“Why am I a DJ again?” I wasn't quite sure, but here I was m on mh way to yet another open decks, and though I had been given a sense of shame the first two times I had snowed up at the place, I was for some reason still determined to play the techno joint, even if it was destined to be a disaster— I was sort of a disaster, almost as inwardly as I was out, and I had been pushed to ever extreme imaginable in the months and even hears leading up to the times—I had been thoroughly humbled over and over again, to the extreme and extent that it did t make much sense that I was still alive, all the more almost always miserable and fighting for survival without my needs being met, and yet, when I tried to humble myself even further, dumbing myself down to apply for some of the only jobs I was qualified for—minimum wage, entry level jobs, where most of my

Maybe I'm just taking. Much needed stroll

I don't want to be early to a place I've once felt

Unwelcome unwanted

No longer trying to get famous or be somebody

But my love for music goes beyond it

Like my mom said

Another Beyoncé song

Reminds me of what I'm not

and everything I lost

A husband.cl, father, a daughter a son, a lover

I just gotta walk it cf

I don't belong at all l, you know

Nowhere

But especially not in modern day Brooklyn

I just gotta walk it off

Better yet, I've got enough to hold me over

Till the morning

We all want what we can't have

A sister a brother

A mom god says sometimes it's important to get lost— I'm not mad, or that hungry, either;

The humor is, I get lost as often as possible

I didn't mean to to harm anyone, anyhow

I had time to burn off—

A lot of it

Don't wanna show up

Where I'm not loved

And not wanted

Everything and everyone around is just a

Bristle skinny white girl,

With more competitive senses

Than I even care to give attention

And that's it,

It isn't for the attention?

I haven't even a camera, actually,

Never played on this equipment,

Haven't had an adapter since —

Honestly can't even remember, and

I was almost a rapper, but tragically

My roommate's been bed ridden,

And suddenly I'm well enough read in

Aliester Crowley that I should have a mountain of money

Or something to show for it,

Other than tragedy, but perhaps fail would indicate a practical excuse to put my mixer in the pawn shop with my drum machine

And the rest of my hopes and dreams,

You know?

Cupcakes and ice cream;

My ex husband haunting me in dreams

And me believing that I'm destined to be anybody at all

Aw, I lost Whole Foods—

It's alright, the Hot bar's all closed

I'm confused at how I'm supposed to be useful

To another human

Consumed with calorie consumption

Creating definite deficits is detrimental as the gym is,

I recon, cause overnight my roommates turned into the devil,

Fuck

Missed my stop being an artist

It's alright, I've got more time to kill, as always, being homeless

No worries,

I'll get audio technical anyway,

Anyday now,

Maybe on my next paycheck

For now I'll take a rain check

I don't even have a rain coat

Or an umbrella

Now, on the way to Hell Phone

Let's see which 20 pound model

Put my lack of Serato

Into the pawn shop

One for all and all for one and

I only got one Jimmy Fallon, not even on me

I don't worry about shod much,

Except for holding my breath, avoiding the sh. Car with vomit, of course

Why do white people want me to fail?

I just want one man for one night, I decided

I don't worry about God much,

When I fuck up, it's funny to her

And when I win she's honored, so

I know it's not all for nothing

For the most part I'm just a dumb girl

An almost always starving artist lost at Bogary's ln the corner, smelling popcorn

I walked in at exactly 10:10 PM, but I was admittedly nervous, as stated at the door—it was my third time at the venue, and I had always left feeling just a bit nervous or off, the second time missing my slot completely after hurting to leave Equinox, transit delays and my own lack of a gps causing me to arrive even later than I had planned and defaulting on my slot—which actually relieved me—I had never seen or played on record box, and the last CDJs I had touched were so long ago in the beginning of my DJ journey that it was almost as if I had never played on them at all, most of the clubs and small bars I had played for professionally being synced with Serato. I was unfamiliar enough with even my own music that I wasn't sure what I was playing, it had fixed myself to go, almost obstinately? And decided that if I bombed it would be the perfect excuse to put my FLX-6, which I didn't even outright own, into the pawn shop alongside my drum machine— I had enough moral decency not to sell something I didn't yet own, hooking that I in enough time I would be able to upgrade, sell it, and use the sun to pay off what I still owed—but I had been hungry for months, washing my clothes in the sink and, now that winter was settling in hurriedly, had become almost hopeless in that I would ever secure a job

I had almost forgotten that I was a DJ — I danced nervously in the crowed after abandoning my things in the back—my backpack, full of my sweaty gym clothes and shoes, some simple toiletries, and whatever else I was sure I needed—two pairs of headphones— actually even favoring the in ear plugs I had been given by Nick, the drummer who had mysteriously almost ghosted me, and probably would have, had I not left the chord to my flx 6 in the rehearsal space we had been sharing—

I had 22 hours on my flash drives, more than enough, but even probably too much— I had attempted to l key the selection before leaving, but between the storage issues on my computer I had practically failed at even synchronizing my library at all— I had destroyed one of my last remaining pairs of headphones, attempting to watch tutorials for the equipment which would be used for the performance— both of the DJs had displayed the shapes of stars in their insignias as it seemed almost purposefully, causing me to storm from my hotel in a fit of rage, throwing my headphones as I once had enraged by the outright lack of actual talent a chosen DJ working for insomniac, or the fakest DJ I had ever seen up to that point, DJ Soda , fed up with the Asian financiers pollution of the dance music industry. By way do promoting talentless

Virgo

Heaven can wait

Wiggle Room

The flower shop

Kind regards

Mood ring

Bossa Nova

I left with exquisite sensory overload and again a sense of relief—I hadn't played at all, as my files were for some reaosjnincompatible—and I hadn't even in the slightest sense with any recollection of what I had done wrong, besides not having spent hundreds of dollars—which seemed to be the game, and now I only wanted and needed to understand one thing: where would my money come from?

It indeed, also is me—

A parallelogram,

a hypnocurrent,

A synchronistic symmetry

What's to become of us

12:12

What's to become of us

12:13

+1 always equals the other,

Always just one off

11:12

Another hypnotist

Ever since it's

43 is

10:11 is

12:13 is

just a little Off

So pretty I could never touch

Yo,

What's that like?

‘I thought to myself'

I just wanna know.

I wanna know your story

Well, here I go–

It doesn't take long,

You know

Just stick with the program,

Hope some of it sticks at all

Don't let the tears fall out, at all

Don't let the tears out, no

Don't go

It is in a different order;

A whole different story

But it's getting colder

on this whole half of the globe

It doesn't matter to me,

Because it can't

And

It just happens to be because

It is

There's nothing left between us but the wind

There's nothing left between us but the wind

It's been a while since i've been injured this badly

My heart is so broken, I wonder if it was ever whole

I hadn't quite captured that monster
I tend to get jealous

Even when it don't make sense

I'm not a well woman

I'm envious,

Ingenious, even

Same as it always was

Friends with benefits

My name is Sami

If you ask me

I've got business

In Manhattan

Better run along to make it better, now

If I can

another random dance

Another heart attack,

A mild one

It goes on for miles and miles

Why I had my eyes on

I'll never know

It's hard at the front lines,

You're always on camera

I'll never be good enough

I'll never be worth it

Let it happen

Lift the curse up

I miss having the nerve just to swallow it all down at once

Bury my head in the sand

As if anything was random,

Rather than calculated

If i could rest for a second and take it all in

That i might as well say I won't make it

It's all up in flames, now

Don't be mad

It don't matter to me

I don't care about love

About nothing, and nobody

I surely don't care about me

See

It's all up in flames now

And it's kind of unlikely

That I'll see you this time round

But you know where to find me

Or how

I don't let any tears down

The whole two hours

I'm almost proud of it

I don't care who she is

I'd just rather not be reminded

Out of sight

Out of mind

I've been keeping my eye on

But my mind off

Round and round, gone

Like a fire alarm

At least the last time i heard on

Talking in shapes

But i'd rather not talk at all

The whole world is on fire

I hate girls,

Cause i never was one

I only like white light to quench my thirst

It's a fire alarm

And the black smoke

Goes up

Now, i don't smile a lot

But i talk to God

very often, look

It's a game of luck,

And i've lost some

I've lost

All ive got

I got nothing left

Nothing left to want

I just want a friend

or a plug

But i've got to get off some

I bought a rocket to mars once

I've come back, now

Funny story

I was sorry, but

Now i'm more glorified for it

Guess you caught me

What a number huh

I should call it up

A postpartum stutter

Never a woman i was

Or a girl

but a mother of someone

Who might have forgotten

No, I'm never gonna look like that

I'm never gonna be like her

I'm never gonna sound alike

Like a God

I just worship the front lines

Figure it out

I was never enough for no one

Was never a girl

But was somehow, instead

Born a woman and mother

I mortify man

with my body

How grotesque,

To be dead,

It is

How hazardous,

To put this on

It's just a show

It's just a job

Such a number

I should just shut up

I should wash my hands of obsession

But love's just a body

I rather admire it

Have I done enough

Have I done enough yet

I've been out of my body,

But never like this

If you can make me come once

You can make me come twice

Nevermind, nevermind

Of men and mice

I've been counting my options

And rocks

On the wrong ones

It's only a dolomite

I never promised

I wouldn't promise,

If i had promised to

(What. Ever.)

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

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