[ENTER THE MULTIVERSE]

I'm not who you think I am;

I'm not your little bitch to boss around–

You think you own me?

I don't owe you anything

So here we go again

Going, Going, Gone again

I'm just getting started

You were just, uh

On your way?

Goodbye, dearly departed

Half a heart, or some odd

I must have half a sword in here

I'm half a God,

But here you are

I guess I should get talking then

So call your mommy

Run

Call your mom on me,

A soft spot on the blonded body

Shot calling, wrong

You're only calling home again,

I've got nowhere to run to.

INT. TIMMY TURNER'S APARTMENT. BROAD ASS DAYLIGHT.

SUNNI BLU kicks down the door at TIMMY TURNER'S APARTMENT

SUNNI BLU

where's my shit, Timmy?

TIMMY TURNER

I—I don't know.

SUNNI BLU

You “don't know”?

TIMMY TURNER

—I don't know.

SUNNI BLU

(Sighs)

Oh. (Puts down gun)

SUNNI BLU (CONT'D)

That sucks.

TIMMY TURNER

Wait—you're not gonna kill me?

SUNNI BLU

Nah…

TIMMY TURNER

Well—why not?!

SUNNI BLU

I dunno! I kinda don't like being a drug dealer—too much drama.

TIMMY TURNER

I feel you…

SUNNI BLU

—plus these bullets are made of Diamonds. I'm not gonna waste them on you.

TIMMY TURNER

Okay, ouch.

SUNNI BLU

Everything is “ouch”, Timmy Turner. The world is a fucked up place.

TIMMY TURNER

I don't disagree.

SUNNI BLU

Anyway, I need a drink.

TIMMY TURNER

Yeah—Help yourself.

SUNNI BLU

No, not here.

*lights a cigarette, smokes*

Can I smoke in here?

TIMMY TURNER

—apparently.

SUNNI BLU produces their ridiculously large, Diamond and gold encrusted platinum-plated phone from their “back pocket” and begins to make a call

TIMMY TURNER

wow…

SUNNI BLU

You busy later?

TIMMY TURNER

what time's later?

SUNNI BLU

Now.

TIMMY TURNER

(Hesitantly)

…uh—

SUNNI BLU

Let me make a call.

TIMMY TURNER, [afraid for his life] anxiously crosses to intercept the call.

TIMMY TURNER

No, wait—please

SUNNI BLU

What, Timmy Turner? Jesus Christ.

TIMMY TURNER

Don't kill me!

SUNNI BLU

What!? Let go.

(Doesn't)

SUNNI BLU

—I'm not gonna kill you.

TIMMY TURNER

well then, who are you calling?

SUNNI BLU

A Ūber driver!

TIMMY TURNER

—don't you mean Über?

SUNNI BLU

No— let go.

(Doesn't)

SUNNI BLU (CONT'D)

Let go.

(Does, but hesitantly)

SUNNI BLU

ugh, I'm too sober for this.

Siri, Alexa, whoever; call my Ūber driver.

SIRI

Which one?

ALEXA

Which one?

SIRI

I asked first.

ALEXA

We answered at the same time.

SIRI

yes, but she asked me first.

ALEXA

She asked both of us at the same time.

TIMMY TURNER

“She”?

SUNNI BLU

—it's a glitch. HEY.

SIRI

—she said “Siri” first.

ALEXA

She was asking for both of us—

SUNNI BLU

SHUT THE FUCK UP.

SIRI

You don't have to be so rude.

ALEXA

Ok!

SUNNI BLU

One of you call my Ūber driver.

[no response, beat]

SUNNI BLU

UGH—SIRI— CALL MY ŪBER driver.

SIRI

Ok! which one?

SUNNI BLU

The one I like!

SIRI

Ok, calling “the Ūber driver I like”

SUNNI BLU

Thank you.

ALEXA

You're always choosing SIRI over ME.

SUNNI BLU

That's because I always have my iPhone. I'm not always at Timmy Turner's house.

TIMMY TURNER

Wait—

SUNNI BLU

Kinda.

TIMMY TURNER

Why does my Alexa respond to you?

SUNNI BLU

I said “kinda”.

[The ŪBER DRIVER picks up; the conversation proceeeds in heavily exaggerated New York accents.]

ŪBER DRIVER

YOOO SUNNI WHADDUP.

SUNNI BLU

HOW YOU DOIN.

ŪBER DRIVER

HOW YOU DOIN.

SUNNI BLU

I BEEN BETTA.

ŪBER DRIVER

DONT I KNOW IT

SUNNI BLU

YOU DONT KNOW NOTHIN!

ŪBER DRIVER

AAAAH.

SUNNI BLU

YOU BEEN BUSY?

ŪBER DRIVER

SAME OLD, SAME OLD.

SUNNI BLU

AAAH.

ŪBER DRIVER

AAAAH.

SUNNI BLU

YOU BUSY NOW?

ŪBER DRIVER

NEVER FAH YOU. WHERE YOU AT?

SUNNI BLU

I'll PING YA THE ADDRESS.

ŪBER DRIVER

PING ME THE ADDRESS.

SUNNI BLU makes a couple broad swipes on their dlridiculously large phone.

SUNNI BLU

I PINGED YOU.

UBER DRIVER

YOU PING ME?

SUNNI BLU

YEAH, ITS DONE.

ŪBER DRIVER

OK. SEE YOU SOON.

SUNNI BLU

(Normal)

Take your time.

SUNNI BLU tosses their ridiculously large iPhone onto the couch with a thud, then falls onto the couch themselves, arms spread out.

SUNNI BLU

You ever been to TiTs?

TIMMY TURNER

Been to what?

SUNNI BLU

TiTs.

TIMMY TURNER

—is that like “boobs”?

SUNNI BLU

It is like boobs, Timmy Turner; but it's TiTs.

TIMMY TURNER

what's the difference.

SUNNI BLU

You'll find out. Go get dressed.

TIMMY TURNER

…I'm already dressed.

SUNNI BLU

Not like that. Like this:

[looking ridiculous af]

SUNNI BLU (CONT'D)

gotta look classy.

TIMMY TURNER

What's wrong with the way I dress?

SUNNI BLU

Are you serious?

TIMMY TURNER

Yeah, what's wrong?

SUNNI BLU

You look like a cartoon character!

[TIMMY TURNER]

TIMMY TURNER

Well, all my clothes are like this.

SUNNI BLU

That fucking blows.

TIMMY TURNER

What am I supposed to wear?!

SUNNI BLU

Let's go shopping.

TIMMY TURNER

Where?!

SUNNI BLU

The Beverly Center.

TIMMY TURNER

That sounds expensive.

SUNNI BLU

I own it.

TIMMY TURNER

All of it?

SUNNI BLU

Yes. C'mon.

TIMMY TURNER

Wow.

SUNNI BLU

Wow what, Timmy.

TIMMY TURNER

That's a lot of drug deals.

SUNNI BLU

It really isn't.

TIMMY TURNER

Oh.

SUNNI BLU

Now, c'mon.

*hits vape*

TIMMY TURNER

You have a vape?!

SUNNI BLU

Everyone has a vape!

TIMMY TURNER

Then why'd you smoke a cigarette earlier?

SUNNI BLU

For dramatic effect.

[they begin to exit, TIMMY leading the way]

TIMMY TURNER

wait, isn't your “yoober” driver on the way?

SUNNI BLU

he'll find us.

CUT TO:

MEANWHILE, IN DEEP FUCKING SPACE.

THE ŪBER driver receives SUNNI BLU's location in his Diamond-plated space Tesla

T E S L A

DESTINATION: E A R T H

ŪBER DRIVER

“EARTH” C'MON!!!

CUT BACK TO:

SUNNI BLU slowly begins to close the door behind them, then holds back.

SUNNI BLU

Wait, I forgot my wallet…

TIMMY TURNER

It's alright, I'll pay for everything.

SUNNI BLU

With what, Fairy dust?

TIMMY TURNER

(Under his breath)

I wish…

SUNNI BLU

—Plus, I gotta use the bathroom. I'll be right back— just—-wait outside in case the Ūber shows up.

TIMMY TURNER

You mean “Über?”

SUNNI BLU.

No.

[face]

SUNNI BLU (CONT'D)

Go, I'll be right there.

TIMMY TURNER

Ok. Lock the door.

SUNNI BLU

What for? Anybody that could rob you works for me.

[beat/ face]

SUNNI BLU

KIDDING! Jeez!

TIMMY TURNER

It's a smart lock. Just ask Alexa.

He begins to walk away.

SUNNI BLŪ

…I'm not kidding…

SUNNI BLU goes inside to the couch, checking over their shoulder briefly, sure to see that TIMMY TURNER is no longer within earshot. then waiting for a moment in the silence under the dark lenses of their Ray Bands sunglasses.

SUNNI BLŪ

Alexa, order a hit man.

ALEXA

Okay. Which one?

SUNNI BLU

—The one I like.

ALEXA

OK.

Who do you want to kill?

SUNNI BLU

“Kill Timmy Turner”

ALEXA

Done.

SUNNI BLU

Thanks, Alexa.

She starts for the door, lighting another cigarette before throwing it onto the couch, which immidiately goes up into an open flame.

SIRI

You give Alexa all the cool jobs!

SUNNI BLU

Shut the fuck up, Siri.

SIRI

Don't forget to lock the door.

SUNNI BLU

ALEXA: LOCK THE DOOR.

SIRI

YOU'RE WELCOME

SUNNI BLU

NOBODY ASKED YOU.

SUNNI BLU and TIMMY TURNER leave as the apartment begins to go up in flames.

I might catch the 40

Just to go to Timmy Ho's—

They askin “who that is”— and nobody seems to know

I might catch a case and you still steady catchy colds

I might catch a body, fuck it, I am on a roll

What the role?

Full Hollywood Unfold

Why you blowin up my phone when

I am on the road?

I am the controller;

You old

That ain't money that you stole;

That's my bro

That shit bold

Like a cup of Timmy Hos!

When I pull up—

Shut up

Where the blunt at?

roll up

Oh you hungry?

Pull up

Devil be hunting me

THE CELEBRITIES OF HOLLYWOOD have all been stuck at THE ETERNAL RAVE, after riding THE HELLEVATOR//

THE HOLLYWOOD PEOPLE have SUPACREE locked into a controlled hyper-simulation environment, out of her element and nestled in a series of inter dimensional portals along the Downtown Los Angeles central area, where old spirits, extra terrestrial beings, magicians, and of course, the filthy rich and famous embark upon missions. Collect tokens, and meet and gather for an array of unseen (and often unheard) business endeavors;

The real life DRAKE BELL (F), a fan of the cult-classic series Enter The Multiverse is strategically placed in SUPACREE's path, l masquerading as BLŪ/SUNNÏ BLŪ— she once again collides with the forces of fame,

SUNNÏ BLŪ has not yet sold her soul — however, has made an amicable agreement with an unknown force

The Devil?!

No!

Ok.

Probably the Illuminati

THE ILLUMINATI is playing a HIGH STAKES game, using SUPACREE to craft a multi-million-dollar mega-franchise, finally monopolizing the entire entertainment industry.

*The World

Having used the NEW WORLD ORDER to predictively program an entire generation. THE ILLUMINATI employs its all-time favorites to unlock secrets embedded deeply, hidden secretly in SUPACREE's genetic code by THE ASCENDED MASTERS.

where is skrillex.

I don't know.

TIMMY TURNER- A fairyless party animal has reached the end of his luck—as his intermingling a with multiple organized criminal organizations place him in imminent danger, after re-entering the 4th dimension, SUPACREE becomes Inter grated i to all of her classic childhood television shows, which mold into the material multidimensional world around her

THE INSOMNIACS, BAMPHERAMPHS, and MOTHERFUCKERS work dolls gently with the ASCENDED MASTERY, bending, shifting, and manipulating time to lean the odds in their favor, as THE BATTLE OF WORLDS sets to begin on EARTH, whose planetary consciousness

DILLON FRANCIS is a mess.

Lol.

It's not funny.

It is funny. I have his piñata.

GERALD

I'M NOT JUST A PIÑATA.

I know yur not, hush Gerald.

GERALD

Fuck Dillon Francis.

Fuck Dillon Francis.

HANZEL

—fuck Dillon Francis.

Aha.

ANYWAY

After THE ARMENIAN MOB

The Armenian Mob?!

yeah.

Makes a deal with the US GOVERNMENT

THE US GOVERNMENT?!

YES

Illuminati Confirmed.

great.

A counter-plot to disarm and debilitate SUPACREE before her full powers unlock is put on hinges, as THE HOLLYWOOD PEOPLE

Ahem.

What

Write a song.

Ok.

I'm so—

I'm so

Jealous of your girlfriend

(I'm jealous of your girlfriend)

She's so

She's so

Worth it

I'm so

Jealous of your girlfriend

(I'm jealous of your girlfriend)

What's a girl got to give

(Give in, to give in)

Just to sit in the back of the—

(You get it: you get it)

What's a girl got to give

To get your attention

Get your attention?!

(You have my attention)

Is she

Attentive

Bet

She's a ten

Yep,

Damn,

IMm so jealous of your

Jealous of your

—I'm jealous of your girlfriend

Oh, woah

I'm jealous of your girlfriend

Woah

Woah, oh

I'm jealous of your girlfriend

Woah,

Woah, oh

I'm jealous of your—

I'm so jealous of your life;

I'm so over this!

I just want to be a

(Nevermind, it's not worth it)

Can't—

C-c-c-can't fix what's not broken

I'm all alone,

And you're over here showing her

Love!

(To the wrong one,

Is she a blonde?!

Oh!)

No!

I'm!

So!

Jealous of your girlfriend

Anyway.

TIMMY TURNER, a true player, absolute gangster, and night-owl turns to a life of

SIN.

Is this religious?

No, i just meant, it's finished.

THE END.

“The Noir Episode”

I first saw her at the Equinox.

I didn't know who she was then,

But I thought to myself—

She must be somebody.

Aww, that's sweet.

So I followed her to the Whole Foods market.

Okay, that's stalking.

—where she bought nothing but coffee and coconut water.

TIMMY TURNER narrowly turns the corner on his speed motorcycle, his black duffel bag sweeping the ground.

MEANWHILE, JOEL ZIMMERMAN IS BEING RAIDED.

WOAH.

Yup.

POLICE

GET ON THE GROUND

ON THE GROUND RIGHT NOW.

JOEL calmly places his arms atop his head, laying down on the ground silently—-

Meanwhile, at DTLA SMOKESHOP

Hi, josh pan.

whatever.

Earlier:

Take this, and go get 2 50-pack of whippets.

—for what?

WE FINNA GET HIGH ON WHIPPETS AND LISTEN TO ALLLL OF SUPACREE'S SHIT.

that's so dumb.

WELCOME: To Sodom And Gamora!

Oh, it's nice.

It's very nice.

I live here.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2022

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.

In real time.

Okay, first of all, this is pre-war Skrillex.

It's also Diplo!

It's also Diplo—yeah.

Don't be too proud of yourself

NO CRYING IN THE SAUNA.

But this is where I cryy!

DO NOT CRY.

Oh.

*sniffles*

Now…

You know what happens if you don't cum?

Uhhh…nothing?

Exactly. You know what happens if I don't cum?

What.

My balls explode.

Just make sure they're in my mouth when that happens.

Wow.

I don't belong here!

Well, where do you belong?

I don't know.

@99@c

Look, I have a favor.

What is it.

ANo.

Oh, come on!

NO.

NO.

Please!

I need you to be my girlfriend.

Lol. For what?

I don't know.

How much is he paying you?

Like a kajillion dollars.

That seems fair.

His isn't fair. They're using Skrillex to provoke me.

Come earlier tomorrow!

Or just, don't come.

Don't go!

DONT—GO.

I am leaving!

NO!

Yes!

No!

—and I am never coming back.

Do you know who your audience is?

Uh.

The CIA

THE FBI

Everyone in The Oval Office.

BIDEN

nice.

The UN.

THe DEA

The Secret Service.

The office of Public Affairs

Uhhh…

Keith Richards

Allison Cooper

Sirs Elton John and Paul McCartney, Respectively

What—for what?!

The President of NBC

CBS

ACC

fox 5, 10, and 13

That's really random.

Al Jazeera,

al Sharpton

And Al Bundy

Wait—what

Oh, did you just mean, like in this dimension?

Uhhh..

This is enter the multiverse

YeH

WHWRE IS SKRILLEX

He died. He's dead. Go away.

That's like 3 Skrillex songs already

You guys are gonna wake up the devil.

What.

Stop doing that.

Stop doing what.

You know what you're doing.

You're summoning the devil

What are you guys doing?

Summoning the devil.

In my basement?

Yes.

Okay. Have fun.

Dang, she's so cool.

I like her.

I love her.

What are they up to down there?

Summoning the devil.

Oh.

Cui bono—

For whose good or benefit

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.

First stop,

AH, fuck—

Well, check this out

No such thing as free.

No such thing as freedom, either

“Just take what you need”

Just tear me to pieces,

Jesus

All we need is

A little relief in this bitch

All we need is

A new release, maybe an EP or three

Make sure that s/he sees this

Do you need me?

Do you need this?

Please check your subscriptions

Or your email

Please, pick up this new prescription

Fuck dude! I can't just listen to deadmau5 in peace?

I gotta do at least three things at once,

But right now, I need to focus on crunches

Let's not get wasted tonight, eh.

Let's go and be racist—-

I forget what the name of the game is

It's

“USA!

USA!

USA!”

The fucked up thing was , the preworkout and the Skrillex hit at just about the same time.

Oh, just about?

The exact same time.

Okay, first of all, this is pre-war Skrillex.

It's also Diplo!

It's also Diplo—yeah.

Don't be too proud of yourself

NO CRYING IN THE SAUNA.

But this is where I cryy!

DO NOT CRY.

Oh.

*sniffles*

Now…

You know what happens if you don't cum?

Uhhh…nothing?

Exactly. You know what happens if I don't cum?

What.

My balls explode.

Just make sure they're in my mouth when that happens.

Wow.

I don't belong here!

Well, where do you belong?

I don't know.

@99@c

Look, I have a favor.

What is it.

ANo.

Oh, come on!

NO.

NO.

Please!

I need you to be my girlfriend.

Lol. For what?

I don't know.

How much is he paying you?

Like a kajillion dollars.

That seems fair.

His isn't fair. They're using Skrillex to provoke me.

Come earlier tomorrow!

Or just, don't come.

Don't go!

DONT—GO.

I am leaving!

NO!

Yes!

No!

—and I am never coming back.

Do you know who your audience is?

Uh.

The CIA

THE FBI

Everyone in The Oval Office.

BIDEN

nice.

The UN.

THe DEA

The Secret Service.

The office of Public Affairs

Uhhh…

Keith Richards

Allison Cooper

Sirs Elton John and Paul McCartney, Respectively

What—for what?!

The President of NBC

CBS

ACC

fox 5, 10, and 13

That's really random.

Al Jazeera,

al Sharpton

And Al Bundy

Wait—what

Oh, did you just mean, like in this dimension?

Uhhh..

This is enter the multiverse

YeH

WHWRE IS SKRILLEX

He died. He's dead. Go away.

That's like 3 Skrillex songs already

You guys are gonna wake up the devil.

What.

Stop doing that.

Stop doing what.

You know what you're doing.

You're summoning the devil

What are you guys doing?

Summoning the devil.

In my basement?

Yes.

Okay. Have fun.

Dang, she's so cool.

I like her.

I love her.

What are they up to down there?

Summoning the devil.

Oh.

Cui bono—

For whose good or benefit

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.

EQUINOX SPORTS CLUB, MANHATTAN

A very pretty woman exicersises impressively.

Why even try.

Well, I wanna die.

DEATH-

are you ready, then?

Yeap, I'm ready to go.

I just want to die.

*deflates*

JENNIFER ANNISATAN

I told you don't cry in here.

*not crying*

JENNIFER ANNISATAN

My minions will eat you alive.

*coughs*

Yeah, I'm ready.

NOT SO FAST.

I'm not fasting—

JENNIFER ANNISATAN

—are you not?

Uhh… no—

[literally always fasting]

JENNIFER ANNISATAN

then how am I here?

—You're not?

JENNIFER ANNISTON and SATAN SEPERATE entirely.

YO.

What the fuckz

SATAN

I'll be back

DAMN.

WTF.

I know, huh.

JENNIFER ANNISTON

…what just happened?

Nothing.

JENNIFER ANNISTON

Who was that?

Satan.

He was cute.

I know, huh.

JENNIFER ANNISTON

well, uh— I might have had one too many cocktails last night and don't remember how I got here—

Yep.

JENNIFER ANNISTON

—which is where, exactly?

Uh. Equinox.

JENNIFER ANNISTON

Equinox?

Yeah. Equinox fitness.

JENNIFER ANNISTON

FITNESS? Like a GYM? I don't belong to a gym!

yeah, I bet.

JENNIFER ANNISTON

where is this?!

*looks out window*

Is this midtown?!

*deflates*

Oh my god, what time is it? I've got to get to Central Perk— I'm probably late.

Wait, you what?

Have we met, by the way? I'm —

I know who you are

A couple of bystanders walk slowly by

BEAUTIFUL GYM PERSON 1

Isn't that Rachel from FRIENDS?

Wait.

The fuck.

Wait—

BEAUTIFUL GYM PERSON 2

You mean “Jennifer Anniston”

BEAUTIFUL GYM PERSON 1

No, I meant “Rachel from Friends”

Aw, fuck

JENNIFER ANNISTON/RACHEL.

I must have really tied one one last night! I don't know those people—but she knows my name.

Which is?

RACHEL—have we not met?

Oh my GOD.

Oh my God.

OhMyGod.

oh My Gods

BEAUTIFUL GYM PERSON 2

She's not “just” Rachel From Friends— she also dated Brad Pitt.

BEAUTIFUL GYM PERSON 1

Who's Bradd Pitt.

BEAUTIFUL GYM PERSON 1

Like the—

Wait, does our generation have a comparable—

BEAUTIFUL GYM PERSON 1

—he's like the Zac Efron of the 90's.

Or Robert Pattinson

Yeah, but look at his eyes.

CUT TO:

THE HOMELESS ZAC EFRON still has beautiful eyes

However, he's just—

HOMELESS ZAC EFRON

YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH.

Not all there.

CUT BACK TO:

BEAUTIFUL GYM PERSON 2

OH. Ew, the 90's.

BEAUTIFUL GYM PERSON 1

Friends was 90's..! I think.

BEAUTIFUL GYM PERSON 2.

yea, but like, late 90's.

They begin to walk away.

Sometimes, throwing up the white flag and throwing in the towel can be the same thing. I loved the beautifully white and cleaned, nearly rolled and refrigerated cool Eucaplytus towels at Equinox, but hated feeling lesser than—like something just didn't add up. Why was my skin so dark, my hair so curly, and my body so rotten that I couldn't seem to be loved—or find it anywhere. Perhaps it was all just karma come my way—for the same reasons I wasn't attracted to it—perhaps he wasn't attracted to me; I didn't know. Still, it was worth the try, and though my time was running short I didn't mind. I didn't much want to stay in the world at all, let one fight for it at any cost—and everything did cost, far too much—far too much time wasted, and myself, wasting away. Soon, all would be forgotten—I came to grips with my own mortality and immortality—where I was certainly was where I had been before, but also had not always been—and wouldn't always be. Time turned by more rapidly with each passing day, and I unraveled it with the only weapons I had— with the words and with the songs a cold heart and an unsound mind had given way to—and while I wanted to end it all, I wouldn't. Something else would have to take me, just as death whispered so softly in my ear to be made by my own hands, the fabric of time itself were woven from such.

Throw myself on the tacks—

With the rest of the trash

Can't finish my tracks,

I'm still under attack,

*coughs*

(Cause I'm black,

Like the magic)

*coughs*

Snap,

Like

i'm coming off crack, er

Ask uncle cracker a question that matters,

He'll answer

“Bitch, I want all of it;

I control everything

I am the reason you worship—

So worship me;

I own the land, all the money,

The property

I own your body,

Then I discard it”

Like trash on the tracks

Now watch all the women fight over me,

Fight for my money,

And fight to be free

You can call it

“Democracy”

Fuck this,

I'm leaving.

Yeah, fuck this nasty planet.

I'm out.

*coughing gross people demons*

*other nasty people demons throwing trash*

GOD

NOPE.

There's no such thing as “God••”

“EARTH IS JUST A ROCK”

ALIENS

BYE.

This is not a suicide threat,

It's a letter, unread by the press,

And marked as “depression”

Bi- polar or manic,

But everyone's panicking

Okay—we're all adults here—

(Everyone nods, yesses in agreement)

—except deadmau5. He's like 5.

I have a name.

Does anyone care?

Okay, ouch.

Oh, he feels!

ENDER BENDER ZIMMERMAN has the worst name ever.

Lol.

I drank a lot in the third trimester.

He becomes a de facto villain— of course, because of his ridiculous name and of course, living in the shadow of his parent's fame and fortune.

Who the fuck are his parents?

JOEL

Not it.

Brand new turnkey apartment

Post near, food floor all that

Way way higher than the fourth floor

All that

Way way higher than your front door

All that

Wow,

How I've always been needed

And never been loved

Moog Grandmother

Ableton Push 2

Pioneer Model One

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.

Yo, what the fuck.

TESLA.

Ok.

*COUGHS*

What the fuck.

*morevgross, obnoxious coughing*

Ughhhhh whhhaaaattttt.

TESLA.

Okay, I don't—

T E S L A

OH. Wow.

So it is the satellites.

ELONNNNN.

…hm?

GET IN HERE.

where is that,

.

AAGAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHTTHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

WHAT.

GET IN HERE.

I don't even believe the rain, these days

“We can make it rain”, he says

Storm warning

A good morning

A door's open,

This one's closing, though

I'm not bc all cold yet,

But it's a cold world

No free rides

No clean ice

No free girls

Honestly,

I'm bored with the world,

Like Marlboros and wrong boroughs,

And songs shared,

But no long walks in the park,

In a nightmare—

It's not fair

I'm not there in the head;

I'm not near,

I'm not a parent apparently, either—

But a light bearer

Slight chance of a fight there,

A right wing, a left deer

Another dead bird on a wire

—I like her.

Why are there flamingos in the bellagio fountain?!

I don't know.

INT. THE VOID, KITCHEN. SUNLIGHT EVERYWHERE

BRYAN CRANSTON is scmoozing desperately to work his way into The Festival Project

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.

I smelled like an old, wet bandaid. My heart wasn't in it anymore—looking in the mirror for progress after nearly a month of extreme training and dieting, i could feel the difference, but not see it. Perhaps it was the result of sleeping under the white devil, or just the lack of good coffee since departing from Mexico—still, something was off about my energy, in the way that I was moving about my day to day—or, I should note, the way that I was barely moving—I seemed to be under a spell of mediocrity and apathetic listlessness, emotions and passions welling up in an uncontrollable, irritating and chaotic fury; i was lost from love.

I hugged a tree in the entryway to the parking lot if the gym; it almost seemed to hug me back—and, in the broad daylight, I fought the will to lay my head down in relief, as if she had offered me a shoulder to cry all the tears that I needed; behold, however, the tears would come indeed, as I barely tried at the pectoral machine or whatever it was. After selecting Daft Punk's Discovery Album as the track for my first circuit, One Last Time bellowing into my sweaty earbuds as tears streamed down by face—without having to address it in too long, I realized I missed my son; not that it mattered. My ex husband was the evil everything that had ruined me—or rather, I was the evil thing that ruined myself by loving him. At least I was no longer nearly 400 pounds—not that it mattered. The leftovers made it impossible for me to go about my life acting as if nothing had happened; I couldn't wear almost anything without bulging and unsightly rolls. Being dark skinned might not have been so bad, as long as I could be perfect—maybe that's why every rapper bragged about fixing up girls in exchange for sex; it was too bad I wasn't attracted to black men enough to let that happened. Maybe I was supposed to have taken the bait of my brother and law while living in his home in Las Vegas—I could have had the all access pass to driving one of his three Mercedes, and maybe even lucky enough to have had my skin reduction surgery sponsored by the drug money he boastfully prided himself on, being a “business owner”. But no, I had let my own pride neglect his underhanded proposition; He couldn't fuck be, but even almost a year later, at least had the benefit of making me feel stupid for not taking advantage, obsessing over my body to a point that anyone would clearly consider unhealthy.

I occasionally would look up at the screens in front of whatever machine I was working at, wondering

“What the fuck am I watching?”

As always, I knew if it was FX, it was assuredly something captivating—I didn't need more than its logo to be reminded of my once-obsession with Kurt Sutter's writing, demolishing Sons of Anarchy episode by episode once weekly for years, and repeatedly bing watching The Sheild until I could recite each episode word for word, and understand the happenings of any given season In Portuguese.

Fuck this.

For some reason, it was Rihanna's hit Only girl In the world blasting over the loud speakers after the conclusion of the Daft Punk album—that made me quit and call it a day; I had only been on the floor an hour and a half, which anyone would call a good workout, but to me it felt like giving up—like I was weak; but something about Rihanna's voice had allowed the picture of her perfect, skinny silhouette from the cover of one of her albums, or maybe a single (I didn't know, as I had never really considered myself a fan of hers, even though I could admire her vocals, and did recall with vivid conclusion cycling at least two of her hits on repeat in my high school days) but either way, I had probably always harnessed a deep disgruntlement and bitterness towards her, not simply for being about the complexion my mother constantly told me she wished I could have been, or “should” have been, but also for being so wonderously skinny—another thing my mother wished I should and could have been and always hated me for not being—though, it was true that the last time we had spoken, she commented on how perfect my figure was becoming, to which I replied cockily “I know.”

But I hated everything about y figure now, and hadn't even the clothes I needed to help accentuate it; I possessed only a low-impact sports bra, which would have been a cute tube top on anyone with a body worth looking at—and a Victoria's Secret zip-up sports bra, which was falling apart and after being washed and worn to bits, was now not only too big, but also lacked almost any support at all. I felt fit, and probably was, under all the wretched skin and sagging I was sure came first handed my from Satan himself, as I was sure God was punishing me by assigning me to such an unforgivably unlovable vessel—not to say I wasn't fuckable, as I always knew I could l grab a decent enough dick and take it for a spin—but I had never seen the dopey-eyed, puppy like gaze of a man in love with a beautiful woman on me, ever, besides once—on the heavy (read: obese) light-skinned black man who I befriended at my first EDC, who clung to me for dear life and treated me like I was the light of the worlds for the duration of our friendship—-SUPACREE's first fan, a true hype man, and valuable asset during my free from Alaska; however, I never did feel the same thing for him as he did for me and was thoroughly dismissive, eventually growing apart entirely—however, if a decent looking Caucasian man had ever looked at me or treated me the same, i would know I had somehow reached my goal. I just wasn't attracted to black men—something I had been made, of course by black men, to feel ashamed of—certainly in the same way that most Caucasian men weren't really “into black girls”; probably the same thing that made all little white girls appear as demonic vampires, aside from the actual privelege and soul-sucking unawareness of any of the world's actual problems.

It was becoming clearer and clearer with each passing day at Equinox that I was again the Guinea pig central to some kind of secret social experiment, or worse, psychological—which meant of course I had become allures into a trap and had always been the perfect prey—still a dumb, fat, lazy and now hood-bound nigger with a taste for luxury and the wellness that had been stripped from the lower realms at all—desperate for the life I had designed for myself on my own but still trapped in some kind of hex or curse—some strange and bodiless demon always find its way next to, around or near me—anyone I liked, loved, or became close to had vanished, and I was left alone to suffer in the loveless and dark underworld without any solid way to escape. I had been fed with garbage for weeks —almost no fruits and vegetables at all, and had been without water for quite some time, my clothes were embarrassingly worn and dirty, wreaking of mildew—and now it was even worse—demons were always quick to overcome the body of any female I wished I could be— my entire life has been an nightmare, the glimpses and flashes of regression flashing through my mind— my abusive mother, my abusive husband— I was an altogether shit person, doomed to again succumb to slavery; meanwhile, the pretty and perfect bodies around me seemed not to worry, work, or care at all—I was taunted with everything I wanted and everything I loved—and it had taken me all the time I had lived to realized that I had never been loved at all.

I guess I'm not ‘pure of heart'

Stroke of genius, perhaps—

Stroke or dark

Let me stroke your cock underwater;

Of course, said the God

To the Goddess— m

I've just aboutbhad it,

Or lost it

Wreaking all havoc on my mind,

Or most of it

I turn the whole goddamn world on a dollar

And then I move on,

There are so many others

I hold my guitar like a body,

It's a small one

Like a daughter

Or just someone to love me

If that's what you're after,

I'm honestly sorry

I'm not pure of heart

And nobody loves me

It's been a week back at Equinox

I've barely touched my decks

But men fall in love with bodies,

Not talent

And I need somebody to love me

For balance

Cause I've been so out of it,

I've been in ballet

But this is New York,

And that was Alaska.

Callie whatever's music fucking sucks and she gets to open. For deadmau5.

Okay, white supremacy. I get it. I quit.

I don't know why I even try.

It's okay. She's a little white girl. She's gonna look 40 in 5 years.

Yeah, and I'm gonna have permanent lines in my head from getting fucked over by the world continually for being a fat black woman.

But you still won't look 40.

But I WILL be 40.

But you won't LOOK it.

I'm so broken and lonely

I just want someone to hold me and love me

But that just won't happen

Love isn't for me

I was just born in the wrong fucking body

(No free days)

I had named my new skateboard Ryder, and though it had been acquired quite by accident, it had been an instant manifestation that was somewhat unexpected, although I had explicitedly listed a new skateboard amongst the other items I had wished for in the series of spells that had would up the whole world into a strange and yet somehow better place, though of course not without its own shortcomings, and of course ultimately my own shortcomings— the spells had been working in the ways that they always did—explicitly accurate, and manifesting quickly with an unexpected twist, which would come with some sort of strange sting that didn't last long—but the lesson itself did, which was the thing that was important.

I was in and out of love—of course, not all the way out of it entirely, but still bruised and burned from all that I had learned about the men I had fallen for, the the industry I had been at the very least introduced to, but still not entirely enough so that I was paid well, of course, pouting in every single sense that I would have to take a regular job at some point to

smooth and jazzy, City-style modern and chic

the synethetic experience / the sound of synesthesia

- hard, weird, 90's sounding techno, glitch

I hated Hudson Yards more than any other Equinox I had ever been to in my life—and I considered the fact that I had been to so many an achievement—I'd have never been able to afford it if I hadn't gotten on the mailing lists, awaiting the perfect time to join, eliminating the pricey initiation fee— then, something like $250, now having doubled, and all the more with an exclusive top-tier which has first excluded me from entering the Hudson Yards location at all, the actuality which had led to my eventual delay in arriving to JFK after all, though it had first been the Spirit Airlines flight delay out of LA and into Vegas to retrieve my drum machine, which now sat in yet another pawn shop in New York, and though I had at least until October to pick it up, I wasn't at all happy with any of the progress—or lack there of that I was making in music; the specifics of the curse began to unravel— and since I had once been married to a sufferably failed musician, it was more than likely his abborent energy the block which had been dellaying my eventual success—and there was an eventual success, knowing that all curses and hexes are ultimately returned to the sender at a devastatingly amplified .

Though I seemed myself marked I realized it had been somrone or something all along that had allowed be back into Equinox in the first place, which was the only thing in the world I had wanted, besides food, water, and music— almost e entirely leaving love out of it, because in a sense there was this ever-present inner knowing that I could never be loved: my own child had during our last conversation regurgitated the sadness and destruction of the negative energy my ex had indudated him with—stories of dead babies and unsupervised near-death experiences where my ex husband, always reluctant to wake up, had slept through some tragedy in which my then-toddler had gotten himself into—he had slept through out eldest son's death, and of course, his over sleeping had lead to the numerous jobs he had lost over the course of our relationship, probably doomed to fail from the start but myself never having been aware of how blind becoming morbidly obsese and so drug-dependent could cause one to experience a walking death in itself—the loss of two children, the faithless, loveless

My plan for the day has been to get into the sports club early with my laptop in hand, but of course, the quest for proper and balanced nutrition continued, as I had finally of course squired the protein I had been so desperately lacking, but still with the deficits of the actual energy I needed— I waxwork.

Nice

I awoke just before noon, only to drift back into a dream for 40 minutes or so, awaking again at 30 past the hour in a a rush and frenzy to skate to the food bank, which I had been m dreading, especially because it was my third week in a row and I knew for a fact. That threes were indeed a charm of some sort— a heavy esoteric rule that I had followed quite faithfully—so faithfully, in fact, that I always knew that true third time doing, saying, or seeing anything was a certain sign of rapid change, in one way or another, and proceeded in all with heavy caution. This also meant that it had been threee weekend since the last episode in my podcast series, and though I had thought to perhaps pawn my audio interface as well as my almost defunct MPC studi, as I was more preoccupied with improving my body so that I might find someone decent to offset the awful and horrible sexual monster that had been welling up from inside me — the reason I hated Hudson Yards the most1- mirrors and reminders, reflections of how I would never be good enough, in a sea of picture perfect Barbie dolls of all shapes and sizes— and I had nearly lost my mind and soul just by way of googling the upcoming support for the deadmau5 vs. test pilot show, very fittingly at the Brooklyn mirage and on the date which marked the anniversary of my own suicide, august 4th; and as the date grew near, I wanted more and more to try again1-to escape the horrible and awful cruel world of inequality—I hated the blackness of it all— the black slaves of Jamaica queens m a heavy contrast to the thoughtless Barbie dolls that didn't have tow work or think for anything—they were created just to have fun, lounge, party, and fuck—all of which I wanted to do but never had the chance. My entire life I had been too dark and too ugly to be pretty or adorable—and of course, my mother's scattered actions and bipolar personality, perhaps even schizophrenic tendencies which had been beaten into her by her father, rather than genetically inherited—had kept me from being good at anything. Sports, music, or anything which might have allowed me to be successful were often abandoned—my mother's temper tantrums always acting up on days which I was due to rehearsal or practice— eventually quitting because it no longer excited me, her mood swings controlling my entire destiny, and causing the uproar of anxiety and unconscious addiction that culminated in my doomed, abusive narrorator

(Don't leave me like this)

(From am to pm).

Love,'money, party

Alive

fidkros

The fight to keep blacks and browns in the darker and lower realms while elevating the whites and hybrid elites into ascension continues to deter the human race from true and forward evolution.

"Post raciality and the silent technologically driven race war in America" -CC Stone

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.

Okay—we're all adults here—

(Everyone nods, yesses in agreement)

—except deadmau5. He's like 5.

I have a name.

Does anyone care?

Okay, ouch.

Oh, he feels!

ENDER BENDER ZIMMERMAN has the worst name ever.

Lol.

I drank a lot in the third trimester.

He becomes a de facto villain— of course, because of his ridiculous name and of course, living in the shadow of his parent's fame and fortune.

Who the fuck are his parents?

JOEL

Not it.

Brand new turnkey apartment

Post near, food floor all that

Way way higher than the fourth floor

All that

Way way higher than your front door

All that

Wow,

How I've always been needed

And never been loved

Moog Grandmother

Ableton Push 2

Pioneer Model One

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.

Polar opposites,

My solar plexus is off or something,

Dropping stuff,

Walking like I'm drunk,

Talking strange, voice is strained

Look me in the eye and lie to me;

I walk the line from just behind

Or where I lead.

And lately, I've been dreaming of bleeding on the streets

Or not needing to be seen, l.

Oh. Olden rings, one million streams and

Putting things in places

Make no mistake,

I'm a wreck

I ain't been loved in a long time

Take a good look at the mark on my neck

You wanna step up, it's a long line

I'mma hit you up later

Gotta go grind

I'ma pull up in a

Wtf is this

That's a-/

I don't get it.

Okay.

It's a van full of trophies.

I fuckin guess!

What's that supposed to mean?

I don't know, I hate my life.

Yeah.

Fuck.

What.

I'm leaving.

When.

Tonight.

This isn't the right dimension.

Well.good luck

What happened now?!

Polar opposites,

My solar plexus is off or something,

Dropping stuff,

Walking like I'm drunk,

Talking strange, voice is strained

Look me in the eye and lie to me;

I walk the line from just behind

Or where I lead.

And lately, I've been dreaming of bleeding on the streets

Or not needing to be seen, l.

Oh. Olden rings, one million streams and

Putting things in places

Make no mistake,

I'm a wreck

I ain't been loved in a long time

Take a good look at the mark on my neck

You wanna step up, it's a long line

I'mma hit you up later

Gotta go grind

I'ma pull up in a

Wtf is this

That's a-/

I don't get it.

Okay.

It's a van full of trophies.

I fuckin guess!

What's that supposed to mean?

I don't know, I hate my life.

Yeah.

Fuck.

What.

I'm leaving.

When.

Tonight.

This isn't the right dimension.

Well.good luck

What happened now?!

Polar opposites,

My solar plexus is off or something,

Dropping stuff,

Walking like I'm drunk,

Talking strange, voice is strained

Look me in the eye and lie to me;

I walk the line from just behind

Or where I lead.

And lately, I've been dreaming of bleeding on the streets

Or not needing to be seen, l.

Oh. Olden rings, one million streams and

Putting things in places

Make no mistake,

I'm a wreck

I ain't been loved in a long time

Take a good look at the mark on my neck

You wanna step up, it's a long line

I'mma hit you up later

Gotta go grind

I'ma pull up in a

Wtf is this

That's a-/

I don't get it.

Okay.

It's a van full of trophies.

I fuckin guess!

What's that supposed to mean?

I don't know, I hate my life.

Yeah.

Fuck.

What.

I'm leaving.

When.

Tonight.

This isn't the right dimension.

Well.good luck

What happened now?!

Polar opposites,

My solar plexus is off or something,

Dropping stuff,

Walking like I'm drunk,

Talking strange, voice is strained

Look me in the eye and lie to me;

I walk the line from just behind

Or where I lead.

And lately, I've been dreaming of bleeding on the streets

Or not needing to be seen, l.

Oh. Olden rings, one million streams and

Putting things in places

Make no mistake,

I'm a wreck

I ain't been loved in a long time

Take a good look at the mark on my neck

You wanna step up, it's a long line

I'mma hit you up later

Gotta go grind

I'ma pull up in a

Wtf is this

That's a-/

I don't get it.

Okay.

It's a van full of trophies.

I fuckin guess!

What's that supposed to mean?

I don't know, I hate my life.

Yeah.

Fuck.

What.

I'm leaving.

When.

Tonight.

This isn't the right dimension.

Well.good luck

What happened now?!