The invisible man, in Manhattan

The sunglasses matches her madness

The cloud cover looks just like Texas

The suns going down

And it's getting colder

As the winds blows…

03. JIMMY FALLON

All ya'll are all worth bout a dollar;

I am a cyclone, watch me holler

I lived my whole life underwater

I got a dollar;

Jimmy Fallon

All ya'll are only bout a dollar

I work so hard, I guess for nothin

I am not worried bout a dollar

I got a dollar;

Jimmy Fallon

I guess I'll do it on my own (Jimmy Fallon, Jimmy Fallon)

I had to do it all alone (Jimmy Fallon, Jimmy Fallon

I made some soup, all out of stones (I don't know, You do not know)

I am the only one I know

(I'm Jimmy Fallon)

I am not worried bout the sauce

I am so famous, (I'm the boss)

got a stalker

I am so famous

Can't go no where

I got a dollar,

Jimmy Fallon

I'm at the office,

Not my home

No collab I work alone

Opened a business, got a loan

I got a hundred of them passwords

I went frontwards

—I went backwards.

(Jimmy Fallon, Jimmy Fallon)

Went to Manhattan, took a walk

Went to the rock and dropped a rock

Now put your money where your mouth is

I got a thousand Jimmy Fallons

(What's that)

(I'm the host)

What's that, what's that

I work alone

What's that what's that

I dropped a rock into the rock

What's that what's that

I'm the host, I'm Jimmy Fallon.

I'm Jimmy—

KIMMEL!?

AHAHAHAHAH

KIMMEL GET BACK HERE!

{Enter The Multiverse}

Story/ music video

Moderately famous household television Jimmy Fallon suddenly begins appearing everywhere—that is—

on every possible TV screen imaginable—

The Protagonist, in confusion, can't seem to escape, and also amusingly begins finding Pennies in very strange and seemingly random places—

these Pennies then begin opening up portals, breaking the fourth wall and opening worlds to other dimensions—

Have you seen this?

Uhh, hmwhat is it?

Mits m

“Two dumb Jews”, starring Seth Rogen, and some other dude—

Who's the other dude—?

—some Jew, but it's got Adam Sandler in it.

Oh, so three dumb Jews.

So, no, then?

I'd watch the shit out of that, though, tbh.

Why's the synopsis?

Uhh.

[Two Jewish musicians struggling to make it in new York's congested underground music scene hit it off in comedy by complete accident, after being booked as a duo for a comedy club they mistook for a bar.]

Heh. Okay, who does Adam Sandler play?

“The Bookkeeper”

What. Who the fuck is “the book keeper?”

We'll see, I guess.

No?

Okay, what about

“Two Broke hoes”

It's like two broke girls, but actually funny.

What, be nice .

Okay.

“Two Broke Ghosts”

That's better—

—

And marketable.

Are you pale, or just—

No, I'm dead.

I'm dead.

X.X

Be NICE.

Now our musical guests, SWAGGARBOMB.

What in the fuck kind of music is that

It's called

“Dorkstep”

[the doorbell rings]

Great, who the fuck is

I got a train car of your body count

I got way far out to far rock away/Rockaway,

way out

Stop to talk to me, or don't,

Kill your culture

You need some?

I got u—

Probiotics, yo

The truth hurts

Your shit stinks

Must be a mirror over herer

Cause that's me

I'm your hero.

Esha I think McGuiennes?

Or McGregor, after Ewab, maybe

ESHA MCGUINESS

New York wants me to kill myself

Maybe eventually

New York is full of the devil

The devil is money

And everyone wants it

The root of all evil,

Is getting even

The root of all evil

Is people

Beside myself,

But besides that

The ones hurting me,

are soon to be where I am

That's just karma

The gangstalkers are soon to be stalked

Coughed, and shot at

The neighbors are soon to be eaten by their own demons

When I don't clean them

The root of all evil is evil,

And that's all I see here

White power wants me to kill my self

The Caucasians get crazy when the race war is waging

The elections are coming up

And they see us coming up on consciousness

They don't want us

Just being honest

They're hateful,

They washed all the love out

Thanks Karen

But she don't care

White firms just wanna have fun

And they get to

Meanwhile, me and I

Eat shit( bro,

And die

Why's it nice to be white

Even when you're wrong, you're right

All you gotta do is lie,

Open up your big blue eyes real wide and

Decide what you want,

Put us under your foot,

And make us pay for it

Thanks Karen

Caucasians are terrorists

I think it's McGuinness or however you spell it, cause half the names are like plays on

Okay, I lie:

You made a world where I have to

Okay, I steal food

You took everything that I'm after already

Or your ancestors did

Call the luxury apartment reparations

But ain't got no privacy,

and hells angels and the kkk

Ride motorcycles every time I get my eye on the prize

So what's the price for being indigenous, black, and a genius

White supremacy finds sneakier ways to kill you

(Or make you kill yourself.)

The invisible man, in Manhattan

The sunglasses matches her madness

The cloud cover looks just like Texas

The suns going down

And it's getting colder

As the winds blows…

The cosmic avenger has a bright pink bird, and a purple frisbee

—that was the most magical shit I ever saw!

(I almost forgot about that)

Mi was like, in middle school, but for some reason was held back a year and should have “at least been in high school”, but was only in 7th grade.

At least now it wasn't like waking up into a sorrow, it wasn't heavy and drenched with some kind of loss, but instead as if I had gained some kind of magic little imaginary friend— and after all, I had done all that I could to put it as far from my mind as I could, without looking back… but something like love did keep creeping up with it, as if the universe wanted me to at least have this—a few good laughs, and the warmth in my heart that told me I could admire someone, without breaking beyond my own moral standards in that the hard stuff seemed at least for now that it was done.

The dream was mostly informal and weird until the end part, and indeed it was the cosmic avenger who had woken me up with a song that had no words, only notes—at least, until I finally awoke with the rush of a full bladder, and in the concious world the words were simple and quite pure, though I was unsure I could pick out the notes—as it turns out, I could, and though I couldn't wrap my mind around the chords.

I at least had the notes—I had been improving drastically at both guitar and piano, though my passion fur music hadn't truly returned—and I was still mostly out of the game, especially as a DJ, dissociating from my depression nd money troubles by writing, with hopes something would change, but as it turned out, almost nothing really moved me to do much more than besides what it seemed my body would want, or where my soul was almost comfortable at best, that is, almost.

I wished I had a friend like that in real life, that I could justify the kind of nonsense that made me laugh and so happy in waking life, rather than just in my own mind, but— here I was, alone, or only with Oli, and upset that I was awake and may not be tired enough to force myself back to sleep. At least, for the next two weeks, I had Peacock, and I might have even somehow jumped over the hurdle that for some reason had forbade me from watching 30 Rock over, (which I wanted to for some reason), some almost 15 years ago.

I had enjoyed thoroughly, with some intensely organic laughter, the movie Click just the night before, even writing some melodic piano inspired by the plot that might one day become something else, but for now, my Ableton was just as far away from my thoughts as anything else was, besides the other worlds I had created, simply with words and imagination, inspiration from what I would call ‘The Illuminati' ever so lovingly, but others might even just call God, or ‘The Business.' Really, there was no sense in separating the three, besides God itself being what I was sure some kind of divination for the artists that I had thought to be alike myself, in all the ways but one as of yet wealth.

I struggled every day with my inability to dress well, maintain my hair and nails, and how to spend what little I had to benefit me most, however, the dream had procured at least one revelation; that I should budget for vinyl stickers, as I had once gained a cult following that way before—completely by accident, however, the first time—and though I hadn't yet the readiness to return to the public eye with my rants and raves, typically quite literally about rants and raves, I had collected another heap of tapes that I was yet to sort though, but might prove worthy of returning to the realm of Enter The Multiverse, eventually—still I had music to make that wasn't being made, over due bills piling up, and a divorce case that seemed to drag on forever, much longer than it should—and with that, I allowed myself to peer into the world that I hadn't, this time with the help of a little magic, and by a little, it meant a lot.

I had wanted to spend my wedding anniversary anywhere besides my apartment, but I hadn't intended to be gone and lost all day in Manhattan while fasting, which ended up as a literal fucking nightmare, full of reminders of the disgusting and evil person my now estranged ex husband was, and it seemed as though there were cruel enough tricks being played on my psyche that it could have just as well ended on a harsh note, taking an uptown train to the face, after stopping to talk with a man who seemed friendly enough, but might have been Satan himself, as I had been drawn enough to his tattoo to make a remark on it, only to look closer and see that it was a Naruto tattoo, and though the man looked like Aliocha, that moment alone lead to an outburst out loud in which I nearly questioned my faith in God, or the existence in God at all— and yet there was, indeed a God, as just earlier in the day, though for the most part still nightmarish in all the ways spending a day you hated could be in public, surrounded by drones who seemed to mimick the Godlessness of such a person i wish i never would have known, and although perhaps the heavenly gesture was the day we had been married was the day i gave him any power he had, including his power to attempt to destroy me.

It was still an irritant to say the least, that not only my train was out of service, and I only wanted to go one place, anyway (specifically to get sticker paper, on that day, for my project, actually) only to find that it was a difficult and confusing mess to find that station on any other train without going out of my way, which didn't matter.

I was spat out somewhere downtown, actually, near One World Trade, which I had only ever visited once, and though I hated it—how capitalism had turned a literal graveyard into a tourist attraction, though I did like graveyards myself enough to have also happened by St. Paul's cemetery, to happily find that it was open rather than closed, but there was something else drawing me towards the center, perhaps a radio signal of some sort, which almost seemed to pull me closer and forward towards one world trade, and my inability to stay long within the droves of cellphones and robotic animal like people creatures, drew me up onto a staircase to discover a preforming arts center, although its name I hated, with constant reminders of meeting my untimely end in front of my two children with a bloody winding and blinding of my ex husbands fists, to which I dismissed anything and anyone who would support such an awful creature in anyway, though the name had become common enough that it happened often—often enough that I hated anything public, and had mostly felt safer in isolation.

After circling one World Trade Center, counting the cameras to surmise that I had always been caught and captured to have been in those moments and actions, most probably stored somewhere in some place which held all of the world's recorded history, and I wondered exactly which era I might actually belong to—some sort of invinite vision, or a recollection of a person having already lived and recorded, a mere mirror of the person I was having already somehow been, which I already knew, and the person I was indeed had been sent on some kind of mission with divine purpose, though in this day, all that I really wanted was to not ever be reminded of what day it was, or who I had been before, or who I might be at all—and seeking asylum and escape from the center of it all, I crossed the walk and carried along the bike path, in the opposite direction, so that I had less humans around at all, out of sight, out of mind, with some restoration of comfort—then suddenly, I was drawn to a particularly lovely building, and myself an admirer of architecture, couldn't help but to go to it to collect the address, so that I could later research who had designed the building—along the way drawn to a sticker which read Rom Com Tom, that was so literally and figuratively reflective, I could not help but pick it up.

The building seemed to be new, or even unoccupied, at least from street view, though its mirrored iridescent kept me from peering inside, I crept up the perimeter to see if there was a way around off the street level; there wasn't, but I did find something odd, and sort of interesting—a universal remote, or, rather, a remote control that could have been for anything, which I picked up, deciding that it had been some kind of writing prompt, after all, thinking ‘hm, that's odd, I was just thinking about Adam Sandler a lot recently' or more specifically, ‘thinking about that one movie where he has a remote that runs the world', and I had been, very recently, thinking of Adam Sandler enough that I had decided to slip the remote into my pocket, careful enough not to press any buttons, just in case some kind of higher ups were watching—a paranoia of sorts, but at the very least, I had counted almost a hundred cameras on my walk, and even If I wasn't being actually followed, (which I somehow sort of knew I was) I wouldn't want to be caught in the plot of somehow longing even more bizzare than I actually was, harem pants and all, to no suprise that the day had gone not at all as I had hoped, but at least I wasn't in my apartment sulkling.

ESHA MCGUENNES (I thought I figured out how to spell that….

My left side's off

I guess I got

Stuck in the love of the art

I was writing that part

When the life of my love

Fell over me

A lover, huh.

I'm so confused.

I'm sorry bro,

But if you're morbidly obese,

But your feet are like a size 6–

You are not BIG BONED.

My doctor said I have a small frame, my feet are size 9, I went from a 10 to an 8.5-9 after losing 200 hundred pounds, I'm like “goddamn! Even my feet were fat! Fuck”

But if you're fat like I was, and your feet are size 6, your feet might be like a size 4!

You're a fat fucking pixie that fucked around and can't do little pixie shit now, cause you like pixie sticks

—Too much!

I'm just the rat in the dumpster

I made this whole world up

I swallowed the doctor

I hearted the surgeon

I locked up the dog catcher;

I cauldron'd the Mormons

I called it a sermon, but

He called them all —

Wait, who is Herman?!

I don't know! Some black guy on that show I'm writing!

what.

I don't know.

You're writing a show?!

I'm on it!

Ugh, I don't know.

No fair,

You really know how to make me cry

When you give me those ocean eyes

Those ocean eyes

Good looking people

In good looking places

Doing good things;

I just want to be Good today

Good looking people

Good looking people

Bye, bye little bird,

Think of the dreams we made

Think of the drummer boy,

Your lover boy,

Then, the other boy

There we go again,

With the drums we played

And the love we made

It just won't make it

Oh I

Just Can't take it

Can I come back yet?

SHUT UP, GAYBRAHAM LINCOLN.

I'm having breakfast at 10 am

Thinking damn this depression is just setting in

There's a chest on my elephant

Chester drawer with hand carved elements

Elephant ok my chest,

Closets with hangers and button ups

I haven't won't yet

What FOR

WHAT FOR.

MY EYES.

For the sake of the art,

I heart ya.

For perhaps if I love,

That's how I lost ya.

So I keep all my love close,

The brothers have found the fountain

How many dollars do tootsie pops cost

For one Jimmy Fallon?

return to the blacklist.

Great. Now I'm Jimmy Fallon.

Well what's fucked up! What happened!

FUCK! I hate being Jimmy Fallon!

Whose dick swings to the right like that?!

Ow.

FUCK.

Fuck this guy.

GODDAMMIT.

-_-

Let me in.

Or I could just leave you out.

No, don't do that.

WHY.

Ahh. Shhhhhh!!! What if someone sees me.

Hmm, let's see.

[rings neighbors doorbell, shuts door]

No!

The neighbor opens the door; now gifted with the ability to see demons, after merging with—

Fast forward

Oh no, when did that thing come into play?

(When this happened)

Liz lemon lives on the ground floor

It don't matter cause she ain't never home l

She's at the rock

That's all the way up

Good talk, Donaghey, Good, Good Talk

Good people

Good show

Good good times

It's good to be long gone from home

Go to work at the plaza

That ones Conan.

Oh, Why?!

Why not, though.

(I swear to God all the late night dudes are like the same guy.)

OH, you mean—

Katt.

What up Snoop.

Ahh,

Look what the pimp limped in.

You think you're clever.

You think you're at least 5 foot—but you're 4 foot 9

I'm STILL

WINNING

[CHARLIE SHEEN relapses on the dance floor.]

Oh shit. Relapses to which habit?

All of them!

10-4.

CALL RUSSEL BRAND.

Csnt.

Why not.

He's blacked out.

What? Another relapse?!

No, he just— passed out

KABLAM.

“The Cockney Thug”

He's just like that now.

God

What is it.

Can I have ham in my spam samwhiches.

—you want ham in your spam sandwhich.

Yes.

Roasted cantaloupe with

Put your notebook

On my throat-Scrotum

I like your poems

So I wrote you this one

Oh. That's.

Welcome—to the' creepy shit fans have done for u's backlogs.

“Backlogs”

Well, I have millions of fans,

It would take me years to look at all this.

[the festival project]

Woah.

Woah.

Ok.

Yo.

Have you seen this.

What is it.

I don't know.

Hm.

Look.

Woah:

Yeah, it's—

Wow

Ok.

It just goes on like this—

For how long—

For like

GOH GOH l

GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

CUT TO: Latest — 1:04

WHAT?

MEANWHILE

….IS THAT A JIMMY FALLON?

LOOKS LIKE ONE.

SHOOT THAT MOTHERFUCKER.

ok , boss.

I told you,

He would play The Devil's Advocate,

If need be

[JIMMY FALLON is shot mercilessly in the shoulder in broad daylight.]

YO. THEY SHOT ME.

He'll be okay. He's Jimmy Fallon.

[LIKE 90,000 Ambulances and a SWAT team roll up.]

See.

DEADMAU5 charges himself in a high speed chamber—a tech-driven coffin via a USB port in his neck.

Lol.

Ok.

(PDA)

Public Displays of Affliction

I've never even see. A. Aston Martin

Sometimes it's worth it,

Getting lost in Manhattan

I just saw the sign

I wouldn't dare entering, anyhow

Not in this outfit

Not in this predicament

(I just left the Whole Foods market)

I got lost and god was happy

Motor cars for music

Force a figure ibto music

Forgive Annie,

Run a mile what's a california smile

In New York

What a garden

Oh, what a garden

Double back.

For a second glance

Oh, don't we all want second chances

Now I've been an Aston Martin

Motorists dot muses now u want her

What a party

I just saw the sign

Now I've been an Aston Martin

All by design

Companion passing through

KAWS

I just bought a Ferrari

I said,

Where the roof is?!

Where the roof is?!

Blū electrico

Roof finished in Nero

Just a hit of magic

A menacing, incredibly ambedextrous submissive

One time I played God,

I was hanging as the sun in Toronto

In my third eye was a camera lense;

My baby daddy,

Lover and my

best friend

My husband

My lover and

My best friend

My brother

And my father

Were my best friends

Once upon a time I never had friends

Now I remember sitting in the backseat,

Has been

I remember when I never had ribs

I remember when I never had meat

Nice to meet you

I already had a coffee

I remember sitting in the front seat

Once upon a time I was anno one

Once upon a dollar, Jimmy Fallon

Once upon a dollar, Jimmy Fallon

Once a bunch of Pennies, lady Gaga

I'm a baby, haha

Once upon a time, I was a no one

A nobody

Once upon a dollar, Jimmy Fallon

I remember penny was a virgin

I remember when you were the third one, l

Once upon a time I was the first one

Once upon a time, I thirst my quench with

Coffee

Body guard!

I remember going on a long run

I remember once there was a

Knock on my door

Now I quench my thirst with smart water

With a hard on

Never was a smart one

Just an artist

I was no one

Once upon a dollar Jimmy Fallon

Once upon a nothing, there was no one

Now I take my coffee on a long ride

No fun

Once upon a dollar,

Jimmy Fallon

Amen

I wish for every dollar I ever had, back

Jimmy Fallon

I wish it was 11:11, every Dillon Francis

I wish for sandwhiches on leavened bread at Passover

I wish this whole world would Passover,

With the the stories in my home

And in my notebook

I wish for the fame and wealth with it,

Jimmy Fallon

I wish I never laughed at Dillon Francis

I wish Skrillex was never a demon,

I take it back

I want the wealth

And not the fame

Just the freedom,

Jimmy Fallon

What do you mean by that?

A dad, an actor

An attack,

The press is back and asking questions

I can't handle that

I can't.

I just can't with that

Abandon the matrix

Go back to

What's his name

But I can't

Cause I made him up

Call my mother begging to drop the charges

Called my God

Just asking what the pocket watch does

What's an engagement ring like that coat

How much to rug the cameras up

Inside my home

So I don't know about em

That shit's priceless

Like the 9 Dollar's I've got

Marked up, but not to spend them at the Market

Jimmy Fallon

I pray for your family

But not as hard as I pray

For my son

Or God

To take this fat off

So I can look like Jennifer Aniston

Cause that's God to em,

22 year old Adam Sandler

At a brunch

A talk show with my

Least favorite host of all time

Jimmy Fallon

But I love to laugh, huh

I just got back, God

My house is a mess

I want meth like AshGod

If

Method man was drinking up the water

Would there be backwash

It's a horrible, windfall

This awesome art project

My broken heart

The coughing stalkers

Whatever the fuck is going on in New York

I love New York

But not New Yorkers

It hurts to be the worst person

The first person to put reverse curses

On shamans from the 3rd world

And I'm living in the first world,

But I just learned that

Underneath the surface

Is the fourth world

That's some dichotomy

Huh

That's some diabolical plot

The cosmic avenger is stuck in a dimension

Of white pocket tenses

And white bitches who get offended

With this scripture

But listen

I just got up

And I've been privy to

Never sleeping again

Norman Needs you, Mrs. Hotch

But I was never Mrs. Roberts

With all of the hearts and crosses , stars

I give up on love

Where's DimlonnFrancis at

That's a man without a mask,

That's a mannequin m.

Just got up

And I still want breakfast

All I got is

Stuff that's leavening

A hand in my pocket

Just for God to show me

Nobody I want wants me

Jimmy Fallon has a family

That's a tragedy, that

But I laughed so hard in the bathtub

I still haven't come back from that

I feel bad for em, actually

All the husbands

Cause I was the wife that sucks

And he hated me so much

I got punched in the—

Doesn't matter

Stuck in the telling it over and over

Nobody loves me

My new password is

Fuckit

I'm gone galloping horses,

And hornets, I'm just a furniture

Probably should have aborted me, mother

Just like you wanted to

But I'm still in the hospital

On the honor roll

Cause I had them all lined up

The prophets of the

“Impossible, could not be my God!”

That's what they all said,

But they dressed me up like

Some sort of messiah,

So I was, then

It wasn't right, no

That was malpractice

But now

I've got

Camping in Malibu

Crossed off my list forever

Shit

It's some dichotomy

Just hold onto me

I'm the rock,

You're the kite now,

Jimmy Fallon

I was just better off dead,

You know

Better off stuck in my head, you know.

I read your messages, every one of them

Every one of the drugs in my bucket

I threw up from the fan club

Impossible,

Could not have been at that clown

JIMMY FALLON - THE COSMIC AVENGER

JIMMY FALLON THE COSMIC AVENGER is levitating in a hyper-meditative state.

UH – “hehe”

…I beg your pardon.

“Hehe”

Um…

Fuck.

Or “haha” “haha”

…

Just admit it.

…

Admit it already!

–haha.

Admit WHAT.

This gets Levels.

Nobody thought Patrice O Neal was a woman!

I thought Patrice O Neal Was a Woman.

Ah, fuck, I'm nobody.

“Nobody”

Is that Bob Saget?

I swiped right on this dude, just cause he looked exactly like Bob Saget.

Omg. Bob Saget!

Fuck, that's right.

EXT. THE W HOTEL, BEVERLY HILLS, DAY/ EXT . PODSHARE WESTWOOD ROOFTOP, DAY

OH MY GOD, GUYS, LOOK: IT'S BOB SAGET.

No it's not!

Oh My God! Yeah IT IS!

Fuck, really?! Bob Saget?!

BOB SAGET!

YO GUYS, IT'S BOB SAGET.

It was, in fact, Bob Saget.

Bob Saget's dead, right?

Oh yeah, bud.

That's it guys! No more dead celebrities!

I'm coming with you!

NO MORE GHOSTS.

Look, I have something to tell you.

UGH. COME ON.

This is a weird superpower.

EXT. GRAVEYARD, QUEENS, NY. DAY

…

…

…

Having fun yet?

Alright! I have a question!

What?

When do I get to–

Get to what?

You know.

Luckily, I die long beore Jimmy Fallon, and as my time approached, I took all i could absorb from the world within, and without, almost as if any and all of my deathwish had been satiated with the gentle ease, the notion of knowing my imminent death would come long before what those surrounding me would consider my time, and therefore would not be made to lose anymore than I already had–but at least, I did have th strength in knowing, not only would i never grow so old as to see for show most of what I had done, but that I had done most of what I would have at all, and not much longer than my words would form into all that would come to be known as my full body of work, I would perish, even before–long before– those I had studied, admired, and known to love–if only through the fourth wall, at all.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

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