{The Audio Files}

CIRCV5.

Dec 27, 202400:03:42Tap to summarize

…If you haven't seen him at his worst… WHERE'S MY SHIT?! …yo…you are so evil… [*breaks everything*] …Then you don't deserve him at his best. I'm your host, Jimmy Fallon And this— Is TRUTH OR DARE?! ‘ This dude is easily the best villain ever. Easily. {Enter The Multiverse} Blue eyes, it is. I wish, I wish, Be careful what you wish for, Or cook in a Petri dish The world is a stage, The people a plague The magic was gone, The days were the same. [The Festival Project ™] Blonde hair, blue eyes; Live once, lose twice— Brown skin, brown eyes Die inside. (Or just die.) {Rewind} Captain Captain! Oh, Good, come in, Cannon. You've—changed. …as you know, Monday we disembark. Yes, I'm aware. And as you know, the details of the mission have been classified, even to us. Yes. I find that alarming. And so, without anymore thought I've decided to masquerade as my old self. How old are you, anyway? You should never ask a woman her age, LT. Sargent. * or the other way around, I clearly don't know. Sorry. Your recent promotion keeps slipping my mind; I…haven't been myself lately… Obviously not, if you've decided to publicly dress like that. I'm still very much in the privacy of my office. You can consider me the spokesperson on behalf of the public. Never as a woman her age! You're not a woman; you're my captain. We'll see about that after tonight. Being a woman, or being my captain? Both, probably. Hm. By any chance would you be interested in joining me? As your subordinate, or as a man. Both, probably. Or neither… presumably. As my escort. I beg your pardon. I've been known to become rather out of sorts in this condition. —er, your condition, captain? Dead drunk and blind with fear out of my mind. [he ponders for a moment, knowing that the mission could very well be their last.] Consider it done. Great. Get dressed, and meet me with the car out front in half an hour. Half an hour? Sharp. Bonus points for showing up early. We're earning points? We are now. Very well then. What am I wearing? Something sharp. Sharper than the inside of a half hour. On your mark. I'll—see you soon. He exits the captain's office, letting out a sigh of relief otherwise previously congested, he looks around as if not to be caught, regains his composure with the shake of his head, somewhat in disbelief of what he's witnessed. He casually places his hands in his pockets, walking down the hall and passing one of his crew mates, who quickly stops to salute him. Sergeant. Almost forgetting to salute back, mindlessly drifting passed in ‘off' mode, he slowly and squarely, almost still casually, salutes back. Oh. I had glimpsed at a picture of the man once more that had forced me to wonder— “Jesus Christ, is he okay?” It would be odd to think of a man who has spent a better part of the last two decades and most of his careers on camera as unphotogenic, then again—I had been tricked by the media before into thinking a certain way, and therefore was cautious, and still—I began to wonder about the man and his misery, and his mistresses—not out of jealousy or obsession, but simply because I knew he had them. He was old Hollywood, or old New York—or maybe a bit of both, and there was something about it all, perhaps even my own darkness, that danced with the flicker of sinful lust that motioned me towards not a yearning, or the act of doing so—I was at least wise enough to know nothing good could come from doing harm to oneself or another— but with the intensity of burning desire to know the man behind the mask—the actor inside the actor, to whom all the world's a stage. Whatever, though. Doesn't matter. At least I was still somehow youthfully resilient to what might have otherwise been torture, TVP S2- after Esha's promotion to head writer. DAEMON DALLAS, aka “DASH” is a quick witted, fast-talking comic powerhouse— his legendary stand up and acting career has made him a legendary force in movies, film, and television; he has been booked on the show to sit down with his longtime friend Patrick about his new stand up comedy tour. — Who's this beautiful sister. My head writer; don't even think about it. I dont think. I just do. Esha approaches— Dash politely bo s and kisses Esha's hand Should I get tested? —and funny. Against Patrick's wishes, Esha accepts a date with daemon dash, furious Patrick means to interrogate her Why would you even date that asshole Because—Pat. He's a comedian. I'm a comedian! So? So, he's funny. And? And he said things to me— What kind of things Charming, funny things— Okay? Things he wouldnt say to you over dinner— because, I'm —you're a woman. —and your head writer. So naturally. Esh, you're a genius, So is he. We have—some new material to work through. Ahq! Your monologue tonight. Oh yes. Oh yes. You can thank me later. Broken bottles. :9'd one stop her Walkin walking God knows I don't belong here And I don't want to Passover was April 21-30 Global War on Terrorism Aka WWIII Oh, indeed. Don't look left Take a deep breath My heart beats differently I think it might be the end I think it might be I think I might be the enemy. The pushing mechanism When i breath him in I levitate And gravitate to what it meant The sake of the art, The hurt of the heart As sacred as it ever was The turning or the Torah talks of Gestures, since the fall of Rome The toga on the alter Solid hands unwrap us all From falling over Old and awkward No award for wisdom No rest for the wiser No love for the troll Since thunder struck from under us, Delivered all but what we wanted So we talk of karma sutra, Surely we can't talk at all Of what we know As once was bonded Laughed it off To come from what The call to us, Fair serve governors fortress I work up in mentions Carved the scarlet letter out of Cannons, of course MA. WHAT. I'm BUSY. ITS ON. The what? The show we watch! The one that— YES, Oh, my GOD. Yes. YESSSSSSSSS. Usnavi, get your popcorn This is some worth watching Up in arms for forwards Causing sore arms, Numb thumbs From crucifixes Are you wondering what God Would walk about the horned carving A kamazake walk of tall corn— Follow me, dear mantra Your whole house is watching. Sacre. It's happening again isn't it. I do want ice cream. All I need is a divorce And an Amazon woman 10 foot tall To rub me off at the stroke of Nevermind what the clock says In God's house they're all wrong The blsphomoous for Catholics Has begun, So strum your number into the teleprompter And just hope no one gets hurt By the hook on the next song —like the hook of my last surviving bra digs into my back does, Or the skin on my lack of tummy Has rubbed off under the suicide Of the cycle— It's getting tighter A loss of interest is equal to A loss of conciousness And I'm 21 days drunk On the alternate, though— I'm sober and feeling less Loved. The animal I've become is all cardio And karma sutra For karma comes To the weak of heart To use the world as swords To cause harm To the calm artists I thought I told you off once. (Already) You look awful. lol. You look terrible, broh. But my album sound fire. #producerholes [portal] It's coffee time!! It's not coffee time! It's not coffee time. Iiiiits coffee time. Damn. Where's the cat. Gestating. {Enter a the Multiverse} Wake up in a wet bed, sweat pouring engine strikes Disaster, roaring Ranting, raving,, Lunatics, icons Ione, eye color No warning: I want you Adonis New Adonis</p...

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[Be Careful What You Wish For,]

Dec 27, 202401:09:29Tap to summarize

Did I forget Steve Allen? I don't know, but I definitely almost forgot Sephen Colbert. WHY! Because I can't decipher who you are from the other four of you! There's three of us. Where's number four?! {Enter The Multiverse} Suddenly, not every day was the same—and that was strange, as it seemed the entire year had just been residuals of the same day over and over—but these days we're distinctly different, and perhaps that's because without knowing what I was going to write, things were kept interesting, and even more interesting was what I was writing at all. Music: but was it comfortable? I had put out a single a day which by now amounted to an album all put together, and I might have thought to put it out as a compilation toward the end of it all, but I hadn't gotten that far yet; I was still in the proc de of an actual album, though more complex in reasoning and context—the concept was struggling to come to the surface. It had, after all, been in the realization that a prefixed muse has been envisioned somewhere in the sands of time, that painting of melting clocks merging together into some desert scraped sandstorm, something of illusion and something like a half imagined oasi…a hallucinated woman who might have been me, but actually beautiful—perfect, actually, draped in pearls and diamonds, dripping in them—leading this lost and wandering man—a beautiful man, also, to an oasis. Was the oasis real? I wasn't sure yet, and after the first track Mirage, I was behind by 4 days on what was supposed to have been whatever tracks followed, the list of them now stuck in wax to the base of the candle at the altar, still burning— a black candle for protection , of course—a strong reminder I should keep moving until whatever things and creatures had seemingly been sent after me could not find me, any longer—and however thought it might have been the case, even if just a seed as planted into my mind — it seems at least that one negative had turned positive, in the very least. The woman whom I had shared a room with just the year before— who seemed to be something like demonically possessed and had also just rather disappeared without a trace—left behind just a bit more than her sunglasses. Since I had thought it better safe than sorry to record everything just in case I continued to be attacked, (having been literally pounced on already twice by other roommate)s—a beautiful soundscape emerged from having been cursed out, a rant which had become increasingly hilarious over time, and of course, remembering Ms. Keisha more fondly than not, especially having left her sunglasses behind. Besides, after having by grown up with my mother, even the meanest people sometimes seemed mild by comparison in remembrance of her sometimes bitter and absolute cruelty. It's hard to have imagined that I had grown up under those conditions—and though now understanding that how some others had grown up in roach and rat infested housing projects, and however clean, mostly orderly, and overall class wise my mother was, on her worst days she had been horrible, especially for a child or adolescent to have dealt with alone, and so Ms. Keisha, though at most times, an irritant, had become a buried treasure, as I sifted through the mounds of recordings in order to create something unique, and different. After tipping off the copyright sensors not once, but twice—once having submitted a completely self composed work and still somehow being flagged by the system as copyrighted material, my music became more bizzare and strange, not just bending rules, but completely breaking them. —Tales of a superstar DJ. LINDSAY LOHAN is sleeping FACE DOWN on the couch in SunnÏ Blū's Studio Lindsay, wake up. Mmfh. [Does not wake up. At all.] Lindsay. Mmf. Tequila. [Suddenly very awake, in fact; she has suddenly perked up with an amazing glow. ] *very serious knocks on the door* Oh shit. [suddenly, more drunk again] –oh shit. *three more knocks* Where's the tequila? SUNNÏ Ah, shit. Is that your lawyer, or your manager? Shit, maybe both. SUNNI. OPEN THE DOOR . –Might even be my agent, too. OPEN THE GODDAMN DOOR. (Both, in cheesy unison, tiny rock concert} I CHIMED IN WITH A HAVENT YOU PEOPLE EVER HEARD OF [Sunni opens the door. No, it's “closing the door– not “open the door” “The Goddamn door.” Right, Goddamit. –where's the tequila. Where it is– [Sunni points in a wayward direction; Lindsay stumbles morning-aftery into the booth. Eww–”morning aftery” Not like that. *addendum* [That Is, just to say that this scene takes place in the afterdays haze of a very –Very Holy Shit , God. What. You rule. [Lindsay enters the booth and uncaps a bottle of tequila so effing fancy, it hurts to look at.] So fucking fancy. Was that lindsay lohan? Yeah it is. It's still lindsay logan, Morgen– –It's ‘Morgan” –She's just over there now. Not was How are you even friends. FLASHBACK ‘ I don't want to be the reason, I could never know you— And I don't want to be the reason I could never love you' ‘Weird dreams, bro.' I had woken up with a song in my head I just flat out refused to sing; I knew it wouldn't come out the way it sounded in my head. it was beautiful, but the dream was a sentiment in itself — starring Lindsay Lohan, of course, still a redhead. Apparently we were sisters—same father, different mother; waking up, though, was silly and sounded bizzare— but in the dream it made sense. We were aware of each other, but just now really meeting for the first time— the place at all didn't seem Los Angeles, but the house was large and kind of old. It seemed I wanted to speak to her but was nervous—then, abandoning a music project entirely, had decided to ask Lindsay to go on a walk—she obliged, but seemed like she really wanted to be left alone, which I ignored—I wanted to get to know my sister, but really— I think, it seemed like I just wanted to ask questions about being super famous. ‘What was it like to be loved?' I didn't ask flat out. In fact, I stayed quiet and let her do the talking— eventually she became upset and began crying. Being rich and famous was not all it was chalked up to be; upset and furious— though not irate, and simply in tears, she began to reveal she had a drinking problem—naturally of course, I then took her to have a drink. I made the drinks weaker, but she wanted more, however, I didn't want her to get sick, so she stormed off and started yelling at me again. Now she was drunk and actually yelling— she told me her real Hollywood story, full of struggles, and that everything was a lie. I changed the subject to our paternal bond, telling her none of that mattered and we should just focus on being sisters, but she just kept going on about the Hollywood life—and how fake everything was. She claimed she was a washed up old sham— I refused, stating that she seemed to be doing well, and I quipped— “That's not true, didn't I see you on Fallon?” It was in fact the only Tonight Show segment I had watched all year, after writing the song ‘JIMMY FALLON' in early spring— I did after all, love Lindsay Lohan, who had been written into the festival project as well, ironically as Sunnï Blu's alcoholic celebrity companion—so this dream was probably my fault anyway somehow, considering it was happening in my head. Lol. Her response to the comment about the appearance on Tonight made me laugh—still pirated (pissed, drunk) she goes “Oh please! Have you ever heard him speak a full sentence [on his own]?!” Seemed like a personal dig, but I tried to hold back a snickering giggle. “Okay…” I let her go on, eventually as it seemed returning to the bar. It seemed the fact that we were sisters by blood only kind of mattered to me— Dream ended with a song that happened to be in the key of frankengenie, but I wasn't going to sing it. It was Christmas Day, not that it mattered, and I had been to bed in the early morning after the last release The Glimmer Twins [The Abyss], which was a narrative song for The festivsl Project's Enter The Multiverse collection —which I'd been inspired to write from a book I was reading. Of courses I woke up needing the Peloton, but opted for Christmas Pasta, closer to sitting down to write then not and knowing if i exercised at all it would be hours before diving into Ableton, I ...

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rave gone wrong. (ft. hyperfocus)

Dec 11, 202400:02:43Tap to summarize

Do you hate me? Only a little. Like, really? I hate you. I knew it. Yeah. I knew it, too. At the end of the darkened stage, the two actors sit in matching overalls; red and white plaid shirts tucked underneath and brown work boots; another spotlight stage right opens on a third actor, who crosses the stage; she dawns the same attire. The train is coming! The audience begins to roar with applause as the third actor enters the stage, almost preventing her from delivering her line—she projects over the audience's upheaval. What the fuck is this? Whatever it is. Though we [the audience] are watching a film, this appears to be a staged play in a large upscale theater—a full house. {enter the multiverse} HANZEL HELLO PARTY PEOPLE. … I ZED HELLO PARTY PEOPLE. The boy walks in with 18 shotguns to his head, and I tell ya— he doesn't even blink. The best part. (Well, he does blink.) Well, yeah, but he's not— He didn't wince or anything. I didn't wince or anything, did I? I don't know, did you? Roll the tape. Just do it again. Take 1077. [The Festival Project ™] A man is submerged under the water in an oversized bathtub—the water crystal clear, he opens his eyes before beginning to emerge— as he reaches the surface, gasping for air; everything changes around him; he is no longer in a bathtub, rather in bed, drenched in sweat, and even his hair dripping. The time is 3 AM; he heavily pants and places his hand over his chest, trying to catch his breath for a moment before he grips his head in great distress; absolute silence in peril. The room is dark, a crude antique looking place; a gold framed bed adorned with blue sheets and maroon pillows, a matching taffeta comforter, which matches the drapes and the lace in the curtains, and the lamp, which he flickers on, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and pausing for a moment to collect himself before rising out of bed. He starts a bath, turning the knob for the most intensely hot water possible, and we can see that this place is very old—some type of early 19th century cottage. The water still running, he moves to the kitchen to pour a glass of water, the floorboards appearing as if they should creak but still otherwise silent besides the running tub— without a motion at all, however, nor even simply a shadow, a figure appears behind the man. Hello, Jimmy. The glass falls almost in slow motion to the floor, shattering with the water, though only half full, still in it. Lol what the fuck is going on in this movie. Oh, it's a movie?! Shhhh! I thought this was a show. Yeah, but there's a movie between seasons. How many seasons are there 4. 7. 10. ?! &zwj;♀️ &zwj;♂️ &zwj; L E G E N D S I am an extraordinary artist. Oh. Hey Amanda. “Hey Amanda?!” “Hey Amanda?!” Yeah, hi. I've been trying to contact you for months, and all I get is a “hey Amanda?!” I've been feeling… off. OFF?! Very. I did this for us. …remind me the nature of our relationship exactly. Light and truth! Oh, the Illuminati. I don't know what you're talking about. Just making sure we weren't lesbians. Lesbians! How can we be?! You and I have been submerged in increasingly seperate dimensions entirely. How is that? I heard—you were getting famous. From a seperate dimention entirely? Yes, that. And otherwise! I take it you've been doing some time traveling. Yes, that! Careful of mirrors. You'll have to excuse me, I'm—obviously hallucinating. I'm also hallucinating, decently. That's..a facinating relief. Is it? Better than a diarrheal release. Okay, that's—disgusting. But also a fascinating relief. I'm astounded that out of any connection you could possibly think to be making. I don't think. I just—hallucinate. That's…just how I vibrating. This disasterous apathy is starting to unsettle me? Have you tried tap dancing? What. Works for me. What?! Just try it. [amanda bynes does a short tap number, ending in jazz hands and then pausing briefly] [beat] You know what, you're right. See. I do feel better. Time travel things. It would be you who knows things like these. It is. [she checks the cabinet] Where's the cake? You're baking it. Amanda checks her watch, then peering into the kitchen—it appears a seperate version of herself, perhaps even her future self has (or past self, considering she wonders where the already finished cake might be) read: alternate self— {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

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winter has come.

Dec 9, 202400:04:10Tap to summarize

A very dark skinned man, athletic build and tall introduces himself. He appears to be some type of fitness instructor. MOZU (In African accent) Hello! I am MOZU! PATRICK Oh. Hello, Mozu. MOZU (In very clear American accent) How we doin'? There is a slight awkward break and short pause before he continues, laughing. MOZU CONT'D Haha! Got you! Thought I was African, didn't you? PATRICK (awkwardly) Wouldn't have mattered! MOZU That one always gets people. PATRICK How often do you do that? MOZU A lot. PATRICK Oh. That is funny. MOZU Yes, it is. Haha! I'm from Michigan. PATRICK Oh—which part? MOZU Detroit. 8 Mile. PATRICK Oh! MOZU Aha! Got you again! Oh, I'm kidding. Suburbs. Near the lakes. Very nice actually. PATRICK (Laughing awkwardly) Oh… MOZU We have a boat. PATRICK Oh. Still? MOZU Would you believe me if I told you it sank? PATRICK I'm not sure. MOZU It did. Not all the way, but. We still have it. PATRICK You're kind of funny. MOZU Not as funny as you, so I've heard. PATRICK You've “heard”? MOZU I was briefed. They always stick me with the Higher end clientele. PATRICK Is that so? MOZU Yeah. I'm the only one that doesn't get starstruck so easily. PATRICK It's probably your quick-wit…and subtle self depreciating racism. MOZU A combination that can't be beat. PATRICK It can't. MOZU So, where you from? PATRICK (without hesitation) The Bronx. MOZU I sense this is not a joke. PATRICK I don't see a camera anywhere—do you? MOZU Funny you should say that… PATRICK Why? MOZU I was hoping you would sign me this autograph, here—- He produces a folded piece of paper from his pocket. PATRICK Seriously? MOZU Yeah, actually— I just need you to sign right here— [beat, an almost solid glare of disbelief.] MOZU It's—your release form. PATRICK Oh! MOZU Got you again, didn't I? Haha! PATRICK Yes, you did. MOZU Good. Just sign here. He does. MOZU CONT'D And here. He signs again. MOZU CONT'D And. As he is finished signing the form MOZU sneaks a quick selfie. PATRICK (Lowly) Eee. MOZU Yeah. PATRICK (Short) Okay. MOZU To track your progress. He lets out a deep sigh. MOZU Away we go. They walk into the luxury gym, which appears to be empty, as the sun rises over Manhattan. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū.

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‘The Sad Truth’

Nov 28, 202400:03:22Tap to summarize

GODDAMMIT RYAN REYNOLDS. WHAT DO YOU WANT? CUT TO: [Cofee is being made.] Oops, I Did It Again - Britney Spears [There are no pants involved.] …this is it, isn't it? What. Season 10 This is the movie before season 10 [Cofee is being enjoyed.] I want to go on high concept adventures through space and time. [There are still no pants involved.] What are you, Ryan Reynolds? A TV host? (sipping coffee) Let's just say I put in my time. —and until the seething, burning hate in your eyes returns, this conversation is over. It never left! So that's what strike force 5 does. ⚡️ Well then, this conversation is still over—because I have better shit to do. [Strike Force 4.5] Getting awesome parts in awesome movies for our friends—yes. Strike force 5–no. What do you mean ‘no' We kicked Jimmy out. Which Jimmy? Shouldn't matter. You know which. Shouldn't matter—okay— just— do the bit. What. The BIT, Ugh, alright. We meet again. Multiple actual actors are stuck in the actual world of Sesame Street, which— Admittedly, this is okay. —seems awesome at first, but after awhile… Ok. This [censored] gets deep. Not that bit! The other bit. I can't do that bit right now. What the fuck? Why not? Because, I'm not wearing pants. Did it work. FUCK YOU RYAN REYNOLDS, GODDAMMIT. So, we meet again. GET OUT. If I was a horse, I'd kick you in the face. Shit, if you were a horse, I'd kick you. And I love fucking horses. You love fucking horses?! You know what? I still might. Get over behind me and a little lower to the ground. You don't want that. No, you dont want that; I'm still holding in a fart. For four seasons? Meet me at the four seasons. For what? Because, global warming is a bitch and I want to take ironic memory photos for momentos. WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE? Same thing you are. (Sips coffee) You smell like baggage and unpaid debt. The Cosmic Avenger takes off his wedding band to prepare to fight; He places it on the table, and it begins to glow and float, growing as it begins to levitate and gravitate towards his opponent, [a mysterious multidimensional alien], who stands undefeated. The ring swells to the size of a large golden halo, sitting itself atop the head of his opponent, and though momentarily caught in the midsts of being in awe, the halo drops over his opponents head and onto their shoulders, tightening into a collar around their neck—beams of light attach to the collar like chained leashes and seven dieties drag his opponent away. The Cosmic Avenger stands in confusion, before asking, …what does that mean? A DRAW! (We'll see.) Ultralight beam>< oops I did it again. But play the video, right? That, and the Rick Roll. (Courtesy of Jesus Christ The Savior, Inc.) SUNNI BLU MorGIE. What! GODDAMMIT SUNNÏ WHAT! This memo says I'm starting opposite Ryan Reynolds in an upcoming action and adventure flick. Yes, that's correct. No, it isn't, Majilla!!! Why isn't it, Sunni? I can't star opposite Ryan Reynolds. Well, why not? CAUSE I'M GAY. Lil bitz So I was listening to Kanye Weat* Yes. I was listening to Kanye West, and he's talking about cheating on Kim, Like, out loud— And I get dumb curious, so I ask Google Google, why are dudes so obsessed with models— I typed that in and hit search, and the whole thing just freezes. Even Google doesn't have a fucking answer for the intrinsic stupidity that is the hardwiring of the modern man. You ever look at like Greek sculptures, or Roman Arcitecture and realize the women aren't fucking twigs? They're not sticks! They're like muscular, and thick, and mad healthy looking. And that's weird to me. That at one point men were wired to be attracted to healthy looking women— But now the ideal for perfection is like 110 lbs and if you're anywhere between 5'1 and 5'11 that's ideal. That's nuts to me. So you're just trying to like, put your dick through the bitch!? Yes. I can actually see my 5 inch penis on the other side of this woman as I penetrate her. Good job, guys. Meet me at Equinox; The Hudson Yards Location- 7:05 Sharp. Alright. EQUINOX FITNESS. HUDSON YARDS. NEW YORK CITY. DAY Not this side, that side. What do you mean. This is the fitness section. You said Equinox… We're going to the hotel. SUNNI BLU You ever been to pound town? Weather's great right now. I ain't going outside now, I got a new strike force, Four door, 5 clowns. Ohhhhhhhh. Shout out to Jimmy O! Don't shout out to Jimmy, no He back to back too many hooooeeess— You know I'm talkin bout his show Go stream Tonight though. No thanks. Ben and Jerry's tonight doe. AHEM. Gazuntite. Listen— Ryan Reynolds is the devil. I knew it. You knew that already? Yeah. Great, so is he through with Jimmy Fallon then? Uh, I guess. That's great, I gotta go rehearse these lines. Okay? Oh and Jimmy. Yes. Find some pants. MEANWHILE. DAVID LETTERMAN MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA! That's more like it. Okay, but following up on before. THE COMIC AGENGER does not need an evil laugh. Hey, Jimmy. Mwahaha.. Damn. Okay. Look, I just found out that dude's evil laugh is actually just…his regular laugh. How do you mean? Have you ever heard Jimmy Fallon laugh? Play the clip. [JIMMY FALLON's actual laugh is terryfying and meniacal. ] You're a menace. You lost me. Whatever dog, I'll have all of you I'll ever need with AI. CUT TO: [Squirts soy sauce into Jimmy Fallon's squinty ass eyes.] AGGGHHHH. MY EYES. Quit friggin squinting. I'm not squinting! These are just my eyes! I hope you die. So. You're officially a literary genius. What are you going to do with that? I don't know? Die? Hahaha, she's Jewish! The entirety of the world of LEGENDS and enter the multiverse becomes a backdrop for Jimmy Kimmel's Latest Late Late Show Is that what it's called? I don't…give a fuck. He acts throughout the season as a literal comic relief, almost always only arriving as disaster and despair have stricken, and at the absolutely worst possible moment— AGH—MY EYES! Your squinty eyes. *also squints* AH WHAT THE [CENSORED] WHY ARE YOU STILL CENSORED?! Didn't they fire you from NBC? I'M CENSORED IN ANYTHING THAT MIGHT BE LATER SYNDICATED— [FUCK] (but censored) Is that what you're squinting at?! ITS IN MY CONTRACT, I AM NOT SQUINTING THESE ARE MY ACTUAL EYES. Fuck you, Jimmy. If I thought you had balls, I'd kick you in them right now. [EXPLITIVE] YOUR FACE. What are you, Chinese? THIS IS VERY OFFENSIVE. Hush, Yao Ming. YOURE JUST MAKING IT WORSE. Do you want any soy sauce in your noodles? This is classic ritual torture. You hush, too Billie— I need you to coconut oil the cornbread. Cornbread with noodles?! I didn't hear any complaints when I went over today's menu earlier while you two were at karaoke, almost getting along just fine. CUT TO: FLASHBACK, EARLIER I'm making noodles with cornbread, any suggestions. PSYCHO KILLER! FAH-FAH-FAH-FAH-FAH-FAH You're off pitch. I HAVE PERFECT PITCH. FA-FA You're flat. Eat a dick. Ugh. ...

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[My First Stand-Up.]

Nov 28, 202400:09:09Tap to summarize

What is your preshow ritual, anyway? I stand on one of the high floors, up here– Yeah– And I shoot snot at the tourists. What? Gross. Fascinating. Straight out of my nose. Ah, God, man. You need help. And into the plaza. Sick. Gross. Before every show. [beat] You know, some of those tourists are in your audience. Exactly. Agh. You need help, guy. You're a sick man. What goes around…comes around. Agh. I JUST GOT MY NBC MERCH. Ahh, shit, here she comes. Is she drunk. What time is it? 8:45 AM. She's wasted. Yooooooooooooooooo. What up, californians. What up Sunni. Good morning. Californians in new york, That's fucked up. Happens all the time. It is weird. Shouldn't be a thing. Wasted. You like my sweatshirt? [Saturday Night Live] It's custom. No it isn't. It's SNL. I just said that. THE ‘N' IS FOR– What did you just say? I said. NONSENSE. THIS IS NONSENSE. What. Lets take a break. __ CUT TO: I'm going to stare at this photograph until the image of you is burned into my brain. OKay. Why are we LEVITATING? And then, I'm going to incinerate it with my mind. *gasp* YOU'RE JACKED. I'M WASTED. [meanwhile, at craft services] More cocaine, please. Thank you, very much. You hold yourself together very well. I'm sorry, i'm sorry–i'm sorry–i'm sorry. What in the FUCK are you apologizing for?! I am a telepathic time traveler. I knew that already. Like, in very real life. Does this thing go both ways. [REDACTED] WHO ARE YOU? I forgot, already honestly. [The Office Style Mockumentary] I heard you were looking for Jimmy. I wasn't. He's nuts. I– [This is not a movie about] [REDACTED] I'm gonna kill that son of a bitch. I'm gonna kill him. AMY POHLER No comment. {Enter The Multiverse} Once you master the levitation, teleportation is only a very sight– Jesus Christ. Not quite. I mean. Seth Meyers. What are you doing here. I'm not. Okay. L E G E N D S Why are we levitating? We're levitating. You're just— Goddammit, what the fuck do you want? Looking for this? NO. Well, why not? Cause i dropped it; what the fuck are you doing with it? …I thought you'd be looking for it– Well, I wasn't, because I dropped it precisely where I dropped it on purpose. Why–would you drop something like this? Why wouldn't I? Isn't it the only one of its kind? Goddammit, you fucking suck at everything. I don't suck at everything… You suck at this, specifically–and this is everything. Ah fuck, i lost his cadence. I lost the cadence. I lost everything. Suddenly, i stopped writing in his cadence. It was as if, after all that time, he had simply just– Disappeared. Goddammit. Now what happened. Nothing! Dis/Connect. Disconnected. Why. What happened. The server is down. What do you mean the server is down? I'm the server. Well, it's down. WHAT IN THE FUCKKKKKK. FUCK. FUCK. Now I gotta go find Jimmy Fallon. FUCK MAN, I HATE THIS DUDE. __ FUCK THIS NIGGA. I'M SICK OF HIM. You can't say that. I JUST DID. You're lucky they even invited you back here. INVITED ME? I OWN THE NETWORK. WHAT! Sunni. SINCE WHEN. YOU CAN'T BILL COSBY ME, MOTHERFUCKER. I OWN NBC. THATS RIGHT. SUCK MY BIG BLACK DICK. Sunni! NIGGAAAAAAAAAAAA. [throws liquor bottle through jewelry store window and palms all of the diamonds on display] aaaaaahhhhhhhh — jager bomb. THAT'S NOT EVEN JAGER. Whateva. L E G E N D S Camera 1– Now, look directly in the light… I won four oscars… [for that one] I knew that if Sara was a real person–then Stefon was probably a real person, and eventually, i started to wonder, if also–Sunni Blu was a real person. Who is C'cxell Soleil? DO YOU MEAN I COULD HAVE GOTTEN 10% OFF THIS SWEATER?! AGGHGHHHH GODDAMMIT I HATE THIS MOTEHRFUCKER. Let me try. For what. It's my console. So. I got cheat codes. Let the name expire, Or the game experience spectacular levels of– disacknowledgement . At a certain point i realized that I had never heard the word ‘fuck' out of Seth Meyers' actual mouth. This is levels, man. Please explain to me this series. *shrugs* I can't. [he walked away] GOOD. I tell you, I'm not going anywhere near The Rockefeller Plaza In anything less than my awful, irrelevant, and absolutely mediocre do-not-mind-me and pay-no-attention deficit to— Maybe anything i'm saying, because believe me Tomorrow: Whatever tomorrow is, It's changing. I only came here to delay my suicide maybe by at least one day further. I could hope for a laugh, but an honest one would take better, Than all the mechanics in the world, and maybe even — Some sort of heroic gesture, On my own part, As you know, I've got to be going. Tainted. Damaged. TINA FEY He's a little bit– We think he may be, special, maybe… SUDAKIS He's retarded. Hey! No, literally. What! Come on! All thumbs. What the fuck does that mean, anyway? *two thumbs down* What is the plot of this, anyway? I don't know anymore. I'm either adding to my portfolio or my suicide letter. Pretty fancy suicide letter. (It was a pretty fancy suicide.) There's a deadline. Did you catch any of these? Hey look; I've got my own interpreter. Why are we codeswitching? We're always codeswtiching. Why aren't they codeswitching? They're the code. Who wrote this programming? If you tell me that this– Astrophysicist. Astrophysis–wait, what? I told you don't fuck with Fallon! period! Very heavy emphasis on the delay in negotiating these terms. What do you make of it? Nothing. I'm just- Nothing? That's it. He's ending me. Just like that. Just like that! Are you serious? It's his game. I'm just in it. “Pawns” This, is the most powerful man in television. Why. You'll see. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

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‘In The Dark’

Nov 28, 202400:02:32Tap to summarize

Now, for a moment— Do me a favor and imagine for a second— Just for a second, That someone, Anyone— Who? Haha Shut up. Had read your writing What writing. Any of it. Ok… —before you arrived at Rockerfeller Plaza. …which time. Any time. Oh. That's right…I had been writing for years before I ever even stepped foot inside The Rock, even one time. THE ROCK Let's just say “30 Rock” But is it technically like 24-58 Rockerfeller Plaza. RADIO CITY, MANHATTAN, NEW YORK, NEW YORK. So this is how many radio towers exactly? All of them. And how many satellites? All of them. And how many antennas. All of them. All of them. All of them—that matter. Which ones don't matter? EXT. THE ARCTIC CIRCLE. WHENEVER. AN IMPORTANT LOOKING BUSINESS MAN IN A SUIT ARRIVES CUT BACK TO CUT BACK TO A GROUP OF ESKIMOS HAVE DISCOVERED A LARGE RADIO TOWER HAS BEEN PLACED IN THE CENTER OF THE TUNDRA. The antenna begins to blink. >< >< >< >< >< CUT BACK TO: …was that a stupid question? I had fasted so long that l had begun to see ghosts, spirits dressed as Angeles, and, well… It was strange to think that this place, wherever weeks of fasting and praying and driving and climbing mountains living out of your car takes you to, was when this revelation occurred to me. Jimmy Fallon. I— what? Jimmy Fallon. It must have been about four weeks, because, it was by the end of this week that the layout of Los Angeles, California had completely changed and been altered. Nothing was where I left it. This is the labra tar pits. [actual tar pits] Not to mention I had somehow, from atop a perch at Elysian park, also witnessed the construction of Dodgers Stadium— If my body is here, then where is my mind? If this is the mind, then where actually is the body? Simply put, and by the end, nearly everyone and everyone on earth had vanished, besides myself— Jimmy Fallon. There was no Jimmy Fallon here— Just whispers of a name, Remnance of an idea. An idea's which might have once been a person, But now, Simply wasn't. It was just one, singular; never having been wasted on anything, Dollar bill. FUCK, man, how am I supposed to keep telling this story?! I don't know. I'm real pissed off I can't find the scene with the coffee mug. I'm pretty sure it's hot cocoa. Whatever. Cause why would it be coffee? Why would it not be malt liquor in a fucking coffee mug if we're talking about Jimmy Fallon? Why would it be malt liquor and not at the very least like a chocolate liqueur with a hint of baileys. Because we're talking about Jimmy Fallon . Are you sure he's an alcoholic!? For the record! So, just reiterating we'v established here that The real Jimmy Fallon The Actual Jimmy Fallon And The Regular Jimmy Fallon Are entirely certainly— Three seperate guys. Sure, for the record. Are you sure he's not. I hope he's not. Why! Cause I like him. WHY! Idk. He just keep showing up—randomly, and at very odd moments. So! So I got used to him—being around. Yikes. Not around—just. Oh, I get it, he's dead. He's not dead, he's downstairs. fuck. Well, I almost didn't think about it. No. There is no Jimmy Fallon. Meat. Waaaahhhhh???!!? It's an all meat sandwhich. What do you mean It's like an Italian BMT What. Without the— Bread. Yes, exactly. It's just meat. Gross. No, this is gross. What. You told me No fakies. You told me to come up with a sandwhich which embodied “The Jimmy Fallon Brand“ And—?! AND I DID THAT This is a VEGETARIAN EGG MCMUFFIN. It's NOT, ITS A JIMMY FALLON— But you just couldn't connect with that. Connect the dots. I gotta get out of town . So, you mean— This TV host thing is a full time job. Pretty much. Where are the models?! Whooooo neeeeds models, when you've got PAGES. Woah, hoes. Those are the 2024 NBC pages. Why are their skirts so short. I know. Why… are their shoes so ugly— To distract from the fact that they're allowed to wear those skirts! I guess. You're racist. No, I'm ugly but— WHY ARENT THERE ANY BLACK PAGES. Oh, there are. Oh yeah?! WHERE. 30 ROCKERFELLER PLAZA. OFFICES. DAY. Humdala-humdala-humdala-hmmmmmm— Humdala-humdala—hmmmmm Goddammit. What is this dude's pre show ritual. Yo. Give me the keys to the Hellicopter. No. Fine. I'll just take the push-to-start. Ok, I'm coming. (Eventually, we'll get back to Seth Meyers) Why is he important. Cause I— Let's just be honest, I don't understand this. Why. Ahem. Why is it that— No matter where I am, In the various multidimentional planes, I am reachable by Jimmy Fallon. I don't know. This has something to do with Jesus, doesn't it? Don't ask me about my brother. I don't know what he's into—or where he goes when he's not. Parasailing. Ah . Paraphrasing. Ok. Parasite. *ing. Wait. I am not a parasite. I'm not taking anything from Jimmy Fallon. …am I! what the fuck exactly just happened. What do you mean. The…propeller seems to have stopped working. Yes, it did. Why are we not free falling rapidly. Oh, we are. CUT TO: A HELLICOPTER FALLING RAPIDLY FROM THE SKY oh dear GOD— CUT BACK TO: A helicopter is suspended in midair, appearing to be frozen. I'm so fucked. I'm so fucked. I'm so fucked. I know what you did Fallon. No you don't! Sucks to be you! I so do know what you did. Even if you do—/ And I also did it. goddammit. “Suspension of Disbelief” WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?! look, I know how to be super skinny. I'm just not. WHY. Cause I like food! Pretty windows, Decent teachers— Learning lessons, Leaning in and, Recent intermissions Admissions to priestes, And alter boys, Insence smoke, And— I said I'd sign the prenuptial agreements! What's in the —? Prenuptual agreements. …but…you have nothing. I've always had nothing but, I've never had— him. What? Not until now. That's not a man, that's a God– (And) That's not a Dog, that's a friend Even if this is the end We're just gonna do it again (and again, and again) Tell me; What did you want?! Did you get it? Cause if not, you're gonna! That's not a watch, it's a gun (And it's going off!) Pull the trigger- You gotta. Did you want it? Did you wanna? Moderation: Marijuana I'm not a God. (I don't wanna) –But I got all that I wanted (I put the air in your lungs) Fuck/ That's not a coincidence, is it? That's not a coincidence. (It never it) Here's another one, For your r...

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posh.

Oct 11, 202401:42:43Tap to summarize

posh. —tried to record the vocals with it but apparently either my interface or my computer— Whatever —Money. -U. ft, Happy Accidents Dunno when I'm going to be able to do vocals next so here's the instrumental, the lyrics. And whatever else was in my notes when I was in producer mode with my documents open. Amen posh. (Instrumental) Happy Accidents ft. -Ū. Actually I was thinking about using my Srs Blk Alias. [serious black] // srs blk. Whatever there's robots outside my door coughing right now. Here go the lyrics. Fucking robots. This is just a fad Why you mad? What is in my bag (Posh) I am just a fan Why you mad You are not my man This is just a fad, I make dance music cause I can This is just a fad Why you mad (Keep it classy) Posh. I am hella bad Do the math You are not my dad This is just a fad I make dance music cause I can I am just a fan Why you mad You are not my man This is just a fad (Dance) Posh This is just a fad. Facts. {Enter The Multiverse} I don't think I like anybody! That's right, I'm not looking. Mis it possible to be asexual Google? Asexual Asexuality is a lack of sexual attraction or interest in sexual activity with others. Asexual people may also be referred to as "ace" or "Aces". Alright, I've earned that tattoo twice now . Now,where should it go? I don't know if I'd quite cal it asexual, just…disinterested in the general population at large. But you're in the general population, Exactly. I'm in need of a pillow pet. Have you tried toys r us. Do you know how weird it's going to look for a 40 something year old man with zero kids to walk into a toys r us and ask for a pillow pet? So you have thought about it. Are you stupid? Not as stupid as I ought to be Lay on the tarmac. What. Just—lay in the tarmac For what? I'm going to run you over with an airplane. …that might work. “How to Kill An Immortal”. It's that time of the day And the day of the week Where my mind goes awry (So long, sir) And my heart starts making the wrong turns Cross eyes, ten and two [Atomic Number] cross Eyes, ten and two Cross your heart, Or don't (Goodbye, sir) Goodbuy, good sir I just bought a pony, I want a fruit roll up My internet due tomorrow (Go finish the album) I just want donut Good morning Hot topics I've got much more to show for it than you're onto. Than you're onto Than you're onto— Honest. Don't stop there, dog. (Atomic Number) Thats no crosswalk Purchase you for favors For favors For flavors Four flavors, are there But I've only got my whole eye on one of them What up then Don't call the number Oh, God damn Go run, Pharoh for you want an arrow out of your head Free hand and heart I thought I was a musician, —I'm not though; I stand 44 stories tall When I stand right behind you, Shadow. Small man I love McDonald's I got a long hat I got along swimmingly with your mom and dad, huh Data data projects and the atomic number That's all folks Data projects and those atomic numbers Cosmic stardust, they all shook They ain't lie, that's a hard pink turn purple They ain't lie, God, that's a mellow yellow saxophone there— They ain't lie, god, brought tear to an eye where there are no more, Heart took a wrong turn They ain't lie, God, It is bright plumb Are you in a black hole or what? Are you shook for stars and all bout dollars? Are you sure that had my name on it? Are you sure, or are you all talk All you sure, mom? Call the doctor. Are you sure at all, at all, at all about what you all wrote I'm on the 44th floor staring off, Dad. Straining heard, though— Had my eyes closed and my mouth sown permanently shut / sh it Is that your industry or something? Is that your window out my car door? Is that your hand over no heart at all— But a chest stuck out; Bring you down real fast when I've been humbled. Goddamn, when's this song over? When they tell you about God, God And all you do is turn your back, God, Are you good, or bad, God, If all I have is in this Target cart So I crunch numbers, Fall in black hole songs, atomic number—- It's just that time of the day And that day of the week where I call out Into the sound stage Reaching back, Into my alter, Rocks in my pocket And one at the Plaza One year only, One whole summer One whole novel, 10 movies, more songs, Light candles and hard rock, Nirvana Soft porn, No dollar bills, No ballers, — I struck rules and struck diets, Followed often around like I own something I just might be, What they call —Ten more songs! (A poet.) —And a whole bunch of unfinished— NO— Cut to: fade in/ Fade out— Whose line is it anyway? I ain't got no teleprompter! Fresh out of water, and Blocked from purchasing on Amazon market cause Something is wrong with my name Or observations I once made About being scammed by the monopoly Oh, polyamorous polyaddixt, polysexual Polygons, on PolyGod, God only— God ain't lie, It was plum, Closed my eyes to confirm, God, Can't conform, God. Atomic Number. I can do ten more before sundown; before I'm so over tired from espresso bean coffee, All about a dollar, I was— Everything I want in my target cart So I sure don't, For sure don't, Ever, On God, Have to walk in the supermarket on Stuggle mode Slow down, posh. [The Festival Project ™] {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū. Telesynthesis

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{Kill Bill Vol. I}

Oct 9, 202401:07:52Tap to summarize

Tell me why, No matter how you mix and match these scenes, They all make very exciting episodes. That's just how it is. {Enter The Multiverse} Ah. more posters. Double-Double. // L E G E N D S I don't know who lied to you, buddy, but you are not white. They lied to you, boy. That boy ain't white. Look at em. He ain't white. They lied to you. Something like— —a bicentennial bullet wound. It can't be that bad. You're only 50x I don't know what else to do about this other than prepare to die. He said it would come on fast after this. Who was he? I don't know . Hm, Just—shut up! Okay. Shutup! I got it, I got it… Fuck, this dude is gonna kill me. We can only hope that's what he plans to do. Anything else, and I'm double-fucked. Maybe quite literally. I can't handle that. Ii did have a good time a Bohemian Grove. How do you even get tickets to that? Early. Goddammit, how did he do this? Are you not like self aware of your own environment, or? Not if I don't have to be, no. Is everything okay over there? Yeah, everything's fine? Fuck, what happened?! I don't know. I fell asleep holding nothing; not stones at all, however, I awoke with The Illuminati Stone and one large rose quartz from a dream in which fly po What if all I lost Was a contact And all you wanted Was a daughter What if our world's were opposite I'm a rockstar You got nowhere to run home to You're not important I got nothin but hot bodies On my tour bus, or private jet Whatever way we get to the stage Where i'm playing You're soaked in rain just thanking God for rainbows Filled with pain Plate filled with old food From Whole Foods, With no shame “Hey. at least it's wholesome” I'm holed up in my studio making music With famous people and no names I made famous Playing a game that I made up You don't even know the rules of But if you learn them in time, YOu might just be where I am Or You might just die From sucicide– That's the plan Not like you have family, but you see If I die I might just take 5 lives with me The limelight's tricky All i got in my inbox is tits And celebrities on my timeline You don't mind: You're just happy to see the sunshine And find silence after a long day And a long night Trying to find life– Cause so far you know you died That's wild– So did I, IT took awhile to get to the other side though Keep trying JAGUAR I HAVE NEVER DIED. I'm telling you RIGHT NOW to TURN BACK. TURN BACK? I've been walking in this direction THE WHOLE TIME. EXACTLY. I'm following you. DON'T FOLLOW ME. I'm f– DON'T FOLLOW ME. I knew i would never see her again. Once i turned around it wasn't long before I realized, I had moved in the opposite direction, but was not in the same place I had been before–and I finally remembered. You can't go backward. But KA, you said time travels in all directions… In Infinite directions. What's the difference. “All” is just ‘some' things. Infinite is everything. Oh. *sighs heavily again* Ok. [beat] lets make fire again! Make fire again? Yes! I thought you hated ‘making fire' I did, but I like marshmallows. Alright, marshmallows. KU and YOUNG KA Flicker in the smoke and shadows of the firelight in a far and distant, dark cosmos, as constellations form around them, expanding outwards into galaxies beyond comprehension. You want some? No, I'm not fond of Marshmallows. Lol Lol Lol. WAKE UP. Nooh. I told you NOT TO FALL ASLEEP. Now you have to start over. NO. Noh I wasn't asleep! I barely nodded off. Clock starting. First of all, I told you. Dillon Francis is a Psychopath. I know that. Because i told you that. I already knew that. How could you possibly know. Just look at him. [Dillon Francis] But I got you now, buddy. What did he do to you? [pause] –He killed my cat. He killed you cat?! [beat] Well, no, but– ??? Something Like That. I'm gonna have a heart attack. PLease don't. HeART attack. Mm. That was good. But it needs more force. More? Put some *love* in it. What's that? *shrugs* HeART ATTACK. What the fuck is he doing. PLaying with one of his alter egos. Jesus Christ. How many are there. Who really knows. What are you two dipshits doing. NOthing. Training. Training! No. *eyes* You can't train yourself. Woah– Woah, woah– That's an insult Both, exactly the same We are not the same. Jinx. Go fuck yourself. *looking at watch* Not until 3. *everyone stops and stares* You schedule your jackoff calendar . I'm very busy. Obviously not busy enough. It's called “building stamina” Do you use “home” or “work” for that. I use candidly. Yikes. Wow. Anyway, this scene is running long; I gotta walk off screen and say something clever, for continuity. But it's only 2:15! If you're not early, you're late! I hate him. So does everybody. If you cry one more time, I'll actually kill you. Put the gun away, dude. Why?! Cause you're crazy. It's 5 AM. Ok. Take your shit and get off the toilet, We have shit to do. [beat] FLUSH. Royal flush I win again. Dammit. This is not LOVE. This is just LUST AH, fuck it though, I love these cunsluts. COME OUT OF RETIREMENT. No, not us. I can do nothing but watch you suffer —suffer the little children unto me I can do nothing, but watch you suffer. —suffer the little children unto me I can do enough, but watch you alter Suffer the children unto me I can do nothing of earth, but of sun— Suffer the children unto me Riding through Brooklyn With Yelawolf bumpin I should be thumping to something else but I never got the trunk to open Nope, I was fucked up some Broke girl summer Broken girl summer Surfs up, though Copestetic, I am Don't stop writing (I tried) Intuition I died Whoever I am Exit Bedstuy So far behind, I'm ahead What's that like Left the pary, Fuck that line Partly cloudy with a chance o Get UP. Nah, I'm fine. For the most part— I just When does this train stop? For the most part— Where the fuck do I get off this ride? I guess I don't For the most part Sure, I miss my mom but Some days she's up And the others GET OUT OF MY HOUSE. HOW?! I will literally FLY you out, just ———————————————-//—-wait, come back. Wait, you can't just cut the strings like that That's amazing lady (She painted like a Mercedes) The second rule of time travel Since you're clearly a rule breaker 2. Don't get hit by anything moving not fast enough to kill you Entirely and completely A fuck, which Brooklyn is this? JUST—time TRACWL <p...

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XXX. (Uptown A Remix)

Oct 5, 202400:05:42Tap to summarize

XXX. ft Kendrick Lamar (Uptown A Remix) [Bootleg] Uptown A The Complex Collective Original Track: XXX. (DAMN, Kendrick Lamar, 2017) “The Rescue” This hearty soup uses tumeric, garlic, and beetroot to help boost the immune system and ward off oncoming attacks. This is not a simple soup to throw together once you've already come down with a full-on cold or flu, as you may not have the energy to gather the ingredients and for preparation, however— this soup is more meant for helping to boost the immune system in the beginning stages of coming down with a seasonal bug, or as a preventative booster. This recipe's complex blend of vitamins and minerals from greens and root vegetables keeps its ingredients' wholesome nutritional value high by first oven roasting the vegetables in a medley before adding them to the pot rather than boiling them; the prep time for this recipe is about 2 hours, with an additional 1-2 hours of cook time to simmer for flavor and for the raw chickpeas to reach the ideal texture before serving— the blend of herbs and root vegetables will add a layer of immunity and protection against any oncoming disruption to your normal level of health, and is hearty enough to be served alone, or with a side dish of salad or even a half sandwich, if you're feeling up to it. You will need: ½ medium size had of cauliflower ½ medium to large yellow onion ½ red onion of the same size ½ white onion, per reference 1 whole celery heart One fresh turmeric root 1-3 beets worth of beet root and leafy greens— you will only use the root for this recipe and can save the beets for later 1 stalk baby boo choy 3-4 medium sized carrots ¼ green bell pepper ⅓ pasilla or Anaheim pepper, per preference (one is milder than the other, but for heavy sinus congestion I suggest the Pasilla pepper, which is a bit spicier and will decongest easily, especially when including some of the seeds into the medley) ⅓ red bell pepper ⅓ yellow bell pepper ⅓ orange bell pepper ½ can stewed tomatoes with onion ½ can stewed tomatoes with garlic (This is for broth flavor) One whole vine ripened tomato 5-8 cloves of garlic (per preference) About 3 tablespoons of fresh ginger root (a thumb tip's worth) 3 cups chickpeas, pre rinsed and soaked overnight ½ cup finely chopped fresh dill ½ cup finely chopped fresh cilantro ¼ cup finely chopped freshoregano ½ lime ½ lemon Crushed red pepper Sea salt Thyme Black pepper Part II Spirit says music was first, then words, and after actions—and then all of time is just acting out the stories that were told in the beginning as art and… Something tells me Something's not all the way right with my head I'm Lost in my mind, I'm All the way here, But I'm still Somewhere off a bit Velvet, the skin, I'm just as sick in my head as I ever, Recovered sex addict, and by definition of nutrition —this handsome nigga smells like red licorice. (It's actually cherry ludens with pectin.) Zeroing in and away, heroing hard For your heroine, Heroin veins, Pigs on the wing, Singing your song Hearing your cry out Fly out my miles, my son Come into my arms, mine oath The love, some trouble Heavy was her heart, Lied to cover Still shattered, Ravine ions, cosmos farm And Wanda's black eye Timmy's wishes and SpongeBob's shallow grave, Oh, how high I got That Arnold's lost love Was actually Strangely enough Also his narcissist, Probably also practicing witchcraft And exorcisms of him. Scissorman, Scissorman— Get a load of this one; Frog and toad, a couple laughs Behind the masks, For this world. Would you honor? Give your blessing, butter Different wages paying, Listen, shallow author: You would write but then not follow up About the actors? The actors! The actors have had it. I'm Just As Badly Damaged As I ever was And listen, Awesome told me Your story I chuckled All the way Up until The literal punchline Now, Go home; Go hike Runyon. For a few hours, we can pretend. That old haunts Don't boil up They always have, of course But you know Nothing quite as pungent as What's become of yours [I love my son.] There it is again, As if something had called her, There, more words But less of them than the tongue could offer Swear you, listener, Past this message sits the wilted thumbs of wilderness, and weary travelers, Song pigeons and mismatched audience appearances For pleasantries And of course, Dessert trays. Cause I wear— —We all know. If anything happens these days, It's because I'm a comic. (At some point) Sunglasses before the sun's up; Eat candies before it all melts Warm something as download comes To fight or fold, To win or die To live or lose Whatever then First time flying And I've got My mind blinding me out Deciding for once That I'm not the whole world Just to have the experience If being surrounded by others In some way. The runway lights up all blue, and I'm in love with you. The subway cars opposite collide, I wish I died already. I should give some time between myself and my writing, I think. I really shouldn't end things the way I'm thinking of ending things— But I'm thinking of ending things. How selfish of me. First time flying Sunglasses before the sun comes up Halls on my tongue And vitamins in my pocket, I shuffle over and over in my mind, The millions of dollars And all that I go through Just to skip post, And go home to no one. But—hello there No one's looking over your shoulder quite so hard as This poster is, So aware of what's there, and near you You've begun to fear it Well, then, Hands in my pocket and down Dawn to dusk, Shaking my head, Drunkenly, but stone sober Really no one told me about the poetry, But a whole world opened, Inside of your notebook— Which I stand holding. Pleasentries, sick dissent, Indecent exposure. And body odor this early in the morning; Gotta love country folk Supposedly no judgements, but as I grow I older, The slower toad I become, and discover my bird eye— Here's to hopes The Hellicopter is all I know From here to Hell and back Westward bound, The Sun rise behind us Sunglasses and no sun yet My eyes reminders of times I remember Sure you did, sir I been there Suffered the whole coast And I'm still not sure You realize you're face down, ass up at an international airport right now. They say this airport is known for its art installations. You don't say. Grandiose to escape the algorithm, Tapped in with the captains hats Fit six of my guieapigs in the business 1 transsexual, And 6 women 3 biracial non-bianaries Some accused extra terrestrials You left me home, but — Nobody washes the whites without me. It's OWSLA again. [The Festival Project ™] It's mid week in midtown I fell asleep at a business meeting, Thinking in sequences, Drinking in increments, Sweet, sweet music, Death and television Television Celebritism, star power And no wonder Early October vacations From power fortunes tied to us We want Redbones, Resonated chambers, Thankless sacraments of disaster Are you archived? Damaged and the flatline Comes at such a heavy decibel Your arms grow numb and Start to stiffen; No wonder you're not paranoid Inside of our religion The Eye See i, Excuse me miss— Did I miss it ? Plea, I Give thanks, Again for —this is our tradition Me, I, Seek I —-meaning to make sense of it but, The might, She died, I guess The center of my kitchen Distressed from attention deficit disorder Sure, Marsh —Whatever doctor . He was just the type I like Milky silky white Sunglasses Slicked back hair Thick round thighs High fashion—( l) Su...

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All episodes

CIRCV5.

[Be Careful What You Wish For,]

rave gone wrong. (ft. hyperfocus)

winter has come.

‘The Sad Truth’

[My First Stand-Up.]

‘In The Dark’

posh.

{Kill Bill Vol. I}

XXX. (Uptown A Remix)