[ENTER THE MULTIVERSE]

[The Festival Project.™]

Presents:

{ENTER THE MULTIVERSE}

SEASON 6- ACT II

No, you can't go see Jimmy Fallon.

Aw, C'mon, why not?!

REGISTRATION CLOSED.

What the FUCK.

No, You can't see SUPACREE.

Aw, C'mon, Why Not!?

We need to begin Sequence B Immidiately.

Just ask Jimmy Fallon.

No.

Yo, why not?!

He wants to!

Jimmy will fuck this up.

JIMMY FALLON

Aw, come on!

No, Jimmy.

JIMMY FALLON

C'mon! I got this!

[JIMMY FALLON BREAKING CHARACTER]

[JIMMY FALLON BREAKING FOURTH WALL]

[JIMMY FALLON LAUGHING UNCONTROLLABLY]

NO.

JIMMY FALLON

*mumbles disappointedly*

We need a Master Level Veteran.

*Nobody Raises Hand*

….

…

WHOOPI GOLDBERG

I got this.

WHOOPI GOLDBERG is a MASTER LEVEL VETERAN SORCERER

What the fuck is this.

It's still Legends, I think.

“I think”

WELCOME TO THE CITY THAT NEVER SLEEPS.

Oh no.

What.

Why doesn't it sleep?

Why do you?

Whoopi Goldberg.

It's just “Whoopi”

Whoopi Goldberg.

Or just, “Whoop”

Whoopi Goldberg.

Christ, you're annoying.

I'm not “Christ”. Have you met him? He's annoying.

What is wrong with you?

Only God Knows.

Fuckin Wise Ass.

*coughs*Wise Owl.

*squints*

Who?

I KNEW IT WAS YOU.

Who?

*battle of squints*

—Ah, Fuckit.

Don't-

Don'tyoumove!

WHOOPI GOLDBERG and SUPACREE prepare for battle:

*BATTLESTANCE*

Don't turn into an owl again.

Oh, What!

Fuhckthat!

Are you scared?

–I'm not scared of anything.

WHOOPI GOLDBERG in a whip transforms into a Giant Black Owl, expanding it's extended wingspan above her.

SUPACREE produces a cage from thin air, instantly trapping the owl, whose eyes flicker with a glowing golden haze, as colorful auroras surround the cage, which supacree closes, setting it atop the mantle.

WHOOP!

*sighs*

Sorry, Whoopi Goldberg.

The Owl ruffles its feathers cognizantly.

That's for elbowing me, mostly.

CUT TO: [FLASHBACK: LEGENDS/THE LEGEND OF SUPACREE]

THE BLOC. DOWNTOWN LOS ANGELES. BROAD DAYLIGHT

WHOOPI?!

Thats me, bitch!!

BUT YOURE NEW YORK!

—and this is how you get that way!

WHOOPI GOLDBERG knocks SUPACREE out cold with one elbow.

Damn Whoopi! You ain't have to do her like that!

Puh! Don't tell me what I have to do

[she drags SUPACREE, unconscious, by the ankles]

Come on!

CUT BACK TO:

The Owl Listens Intently.

Are we telepathic?

The Owl Agrees.

Okay, we're telepathic, then. No More Talking.

[The Owl Coos]

Off To Hogwarts;

*hoots*

Okay, Now No Talking.

It was a long red eye—but at least there was Equinox on the other side.

MEANWHILE, BACK IN LOS ANGELES

[A Parallel Dimension]

I come in yesterdays clothes

Soaked in my woes,

And hoping I blow just like smoke

Down below;

A bellowing cry, or a wallow, says

“What am I, honestly?”

Waiting to die at the right time

Turn on the light

And it's up another night

And look, nothing feels right

I could die here

Die here

Turn on the light

Turn me over, goodnight

Nothing feels right

I could die here

Die here

All the women, demons, and

All the men feinds;

I've been begging you

Please god,

For mercy

Oh please

But

My pleads turn to nothing

I'm wasted on my knees,

So for my needs

I could die here

Die here

Turn on the light

And it's up another night

And look, nothing feels right

I could die here

Die here

Turn on the light

Turn me over, goodnight

Nothing feels right

I could die here

Die here

I just stopped wondering why it's All like this

It's nothing but hell here

And heaven on the surface

I tried just to love, once

But it has no purpose

I'm probably sick

I should die here

Die here

So sick of wasting my time here

(But—what else am I to do)

So sick of lying to myself, thinking

I should be with you

Another day, another room

Another bed, another tomb

Unborn, the comfort of the womb

Just waiting to be born

This is horrible

I just can't take it anymore

No honor

No love left

Just dollars,

I'm obsessed with trying to die

Right

Here

I don't want to do this

It's already done, kid

Holy shit, man—

Who the Hell isn't here right now?

Cosmo and Wanda—

Who the fuck is that?

They're my f—

—??

Godparents.

You have God parents?

—I used to.

I didn't even know you had real parents.

Neither did I.

The latchkey kids of the 4th dimension have gathered on a semi-United front.

DORA, KNOCK IT OFF.

sorry. Lol

Who raised you, anyway?

My backpack, mostly.

That—doesn't make any sense.

Whatever. Imma shuffle.

SWIPER, NO SWIPING.

Aw, man…

I just can't believe

In a world

Where a guy like you

Where a girl like me

Could be lovers

Good TV knows

That you deserve better

So I better

Just

Learn how to settle

Whatever

Sometimes I fantasize

That someone might find my eyes

And fall in love,

They way I like

—the way I love you

Sometimes I look up at the sky and wonder why

It's critical, the darkness and gloom

In my eyes why not blue

I felt as if I was being pulled apart— I hadn't slept comfortably and soundly in what felt like forever, but it had only really been a long and harrowing week at the Freehand—it seemed like a curse, pulled from sleep in the very moments when I would first fall, whether it be the flicker of the room lights, an awful, coughing moron, or a certainly and particularly unhygienic individual, it seemed as if I had been attacked; my food stamps stolen, left without sleep and still under the God awful condition od my having-to-do work environment, I was left sprawling for evidence that I had been sent to Los Angeles to do anything other than die; it was a special kind of hell—loveless, without a kitchen, and not a wink of peaceful sleep in eons, Equinox became the only thing worth living for at all, if at all— I was still virtually homeless, penniless, and, certainly friendless, dillusions of grandeour shattered in the merciless depth of mediocrity and immoralous servitude ;I had no other options: i could skew to Mexico, which I hated even the thought of, and though I was pretending to be in anywhere else in my mind— If only just to offset being followed by coughing people no matter where I went, or what I did l—I was just as sick in Los Angeles as ever; and AlthoughI I pretended to stop hating myself, as well, I couldn't—as it seemed my whole goddamn life had been a lie l—the only person who really ever loved me, my mother—who I still refused to talk to—or maybe my father—who had indeed talked my mom out of the abortion, after all.

‘Looks like Donut Friend is the only friend I have'

What I really had wanted was Sprinkles Red Velvet Cupcakes—and though I had called just minutes earlier, they were all sold out by the time I got there

“I don't know what happened!” Said the young woman at the bakery counter

“Someone just put in a huge order.”

And though my mind was unravelling, a glimpse of my imagination sparked up for the story I had begun, but never finished —and with good enough reason both consciously and coincidentally as it were.

CUT TO: [FLASHBACK: SEASON 6 ACT I]

DRAKE BELL

Everything's on fire and I had to run around and get cupcakes!

–And that's where we left off:

Wait, rewind.

DRAKE BELL hurriedly finishes a very long, specific list of tasks and errands for THE COSMIC ALLIANCE, THE BAMPHERAMPHS, and THE ILLUMINATI.

Oh yeah?

Sure.

It's a classic case

Of Good gone Bad,

I haven't an answer,

And haven't a laugh in the world left

Hey,

I'm just a girl in a loveless world;

But I love men -

That's something it shouldn't have been

And I wouldn't have written this,

If it wasn't infinite;

Of course it is,

Of all curses and Horcuxes I've suffered;

All I've got is words left

Otherwise, I'm worthless

I could not have served less time

Either way,

Aren't we in eternity,

Entirely?

Turns out,

I'm just a schizophrenic Skrillex

Addicted to whippets,

Sick in the infinite businesses interests

With innocent intentions,

Definitely

Reckless,

Effectively impressive excrement

Never present, neglectfully irrelevant

Uninventive, innattentuve, disinterested in

Sentimental fixes, instant riches did this;

Inches just from sleeping with the fishes

Well, I hope you're proud of yourself.

…

Let's see the tape.

Don't watch the tape.

Roll the tape.

Wow.

I know Huh.

This season gets wild

It is

And DEEP.

Wait, where's DillonnFrwncis*

Fuxk Dillokn Francis*

Oh shit, there he is.

Wait.

[The room falls into a near silent heap of gasps and whispers amongst the robed and hooded crowd;

“The Forgotten One”

::||pause.

I do have to say, I am impressed with you, Sir.

…are you really?

I have been to the edge of infinity and beyond—and had yet to see such utter fucklessness.

?

HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND,

Yea.

GOFINDIT.

-_-

Damn.

What.

‘Ugh. ‘

This could have all been bigger than what I thought, or not at all—but it was too far past the point of coincidences to even believe that nothing I was seeing, thinking, or feeling had absolutely no meaning whatsoever—and yet, here I was, still struggling to find it.

Sugar spicy haze;

It's bitter sweet these days,

Existing

The route I always take

Los Angeles is fake,

This city

Not a penny or a pity in the world

To give, to take

—you're welcome

Thank you after thanks,

No regrets or mistakes,

—you're welcome

I pray for everything, these days

I pray for everything, I pray

You're welcome

I got no reason left to stay

No, I don't want to play your game

Thanks

—hey. You're welcome

MILA KUNIS

…what are you doing?

ASHTON KUTCHER

Uh—Fantasy Football.

MILA KUNIS

—since when do you play “fantasy football”?

ASHTON KUTCHER

UH—since always

MILA KUNIS

…what are you hiding?

ASHTON KUTCHER

NOTHIN—JEEZ.

MILA KUNIS

—let me see that.

ASHTON KUTCHER

NO—wait.

MILA KUNIS

—what is this?!

ASHTON KUTCHER

—it's a game—

MILA KUNIS

—IS THIS PORN?!

ASHTON KUTCHER

EW SICK—-NO! Don't be gross.

MILA KUNIS

*hits vape*

ASHTON KUTCHER

—throw that away.

MILA KUNIS

—what is this?

ASHTON KUTCHER

—it's a game, I told you…

MILA KUNIS

“It's fantasy football “

ASHTON KUTCHER

That's—a game.

MILA KUNIS

*hits vape*

ASHTON KUTCHER

That's so gross.

MILA KUNIS

Let me see that—

ASHTON KUTCHER

—no—

MILA KUNIS

—let me see—

ASHTON KUTCHER

No!

I get a lot of work done here, at the Per LaHotel;

There's really only one way in,

And no ways out;

An access point

I am annointed, since,

In inscence,

Annoyances, and nuisances—

This is just a jigsaw puzzle,

I already solved,

To throw you off a bit

I'm lost a bit,

I'm stopping just to talk a bit,

I saw you at or on The Office once,

And lost it

Turn me off, then!

Why Hollywood?

I took a bus to Boston;

Just to throw you off a bit

Why Hollywood?

I said “I haven't got it”

Then run off a bit,

It's toxic

Why Hollywood?

It's sodom and a lot of sauce,

I saved up a deposit once,

Then stopped here,

Toes are cold as blocks,

I walked like seven blocks

To spend 5 dollars on a rock;

Eventually the bus will come—

Or not—

I just don't have a single fuck left

Why Hollywood?

Come on!

I was just trying to write a novel

Why Hollywood,

Come on—

[SUPACREE pops out of a dumpster, like a Jack in the Box, with the enthusiasm and veracity of Sponegebob SquarePants]

GOOD MORNING, LOS ANGELES!

Lol.

Why Hollywood?

I got a lot of awesome in my pocket

Why Hollywood?

I took a bus to Folsom

Why Hollywood?

Eventually the bus will come

Eventually the bus will come

Eventually the bus will come

To Boston

What the fuck, Hollywood.

[MILA snatches the strange device from Ashton's hands, swiftly, like a ninja]

MILA KUNIS

*hits vape with suspiciousness*

…what is this?

[MILA, instantly captivated, begins toggling the controller; ASHTON snatches the Elfbar from her, equally as swiftly; he hits the vape in defeat.]

Meanwhile, in actual life—whatever that is.

[More Multidimensional Shit]

Everything hit too close to home at once, culminating in a catharsis of tears, after an onslaught off too much information— curiosity had killed the cat indeed—but at least, I, the cat in question, had all the information I needed to give somehow even less fucks than I had given before—or somehow more—as the more I leaned into my eggaerated conciousness, even against my will, but with the will of the world—a turning point in my heart, body, mind, and soul occurred all at once.

‘Ugh, this is awful'

I had been up for precisely two days, but still found it increasingly difficult to sleep, even though I had at least been left alone for sometime, which was everything I wanted and more—just to be alone, without another human being, unbothered and untouched—and though I wasn't entirely either thing, a calling had creeped its way into my conciousness; something was not right, and far beyond my means of control, anyway.

Now I have you in my palm,

As in my thoughts,

As in my art,

As in my ark,

As in my arms—

Just as you are,

Yet near, or far

We are you

As striking as ever, of course, the actual man of the muse, of this realm, (wherever I was) had turned out to be more honestly so myself than anything I had occurred as of late—and passing no judgements at all for what I had deciphered at all in this—a mockery of such things in all sorts, from under the microscope, a heaping load of nonsense, Wikipedia an throughway into the depths of unimaginable realism, met with remarks of my own mirage of mediocrity.

Facinating.

Uh huh.

So wait.

Uh huh.

This kid is actually addicted to whippets?

At least, according to Wikipedia.

Well, Goddamnit. Fuck.

Don't worry, Jared, I'm not particularly obsessed with you—at least not entirely; but you have every reason to be afraid of someone like me—however—not exactly ashamed of your circumstancial being.

And

At least you know where your son's at;

Cause I've got no idea where mine is

Pluses, followed by minuses

I am the child engangerment,

Imaginative entanglement,

Creative

EQUINOX SPORTS CLUB. LOS ANGELES

I'm so heavily confused right now.

There are no coincidences.

I actually cried over this shit.

What the fuck's wrong with this town, anyway?!

I found my freedom,

You made me a slave again—

But I'm finally waking up;

I finally know my name,

Today, it's still LA;

But maybe Amsterdam,

Where everything's a rave.

PARIS, FRANCE

Monssour! *

We?!

A message from The Ambassador!!

Sa cra blur!!

Lol. Why is this so stereotypically French?

What do you want—Ebonics?!

“NIGGA(S) IN PARIS”

Lol no. Stop.

Okay.

JIMMY FALLON, THE COSMIC AVENGER APPEARS

You are really bad at this.

Shut up, Jimmy.

You're not making this easy.

I'm not making this anything.

Infinity—

You are a figment of my imagination, Jimmy Fallon.

You think so?

Wait.

We've been waiting.

What did you just call me?

Infinity.

—and who is “we?”

*vanishes*

[beat]

I hate this.

MEANWHILE, IN ASCENCIA

After Petrutheo's mysterious death, the kingdom of Eden is crumbles; a —

Wait.

What, Goddamn it?

This episode has no direction whatsoever.

Neither do I.

Touché.

MAN, FUCK LA.

JEFF BESOS

She quit. I win

ELON MUSK

No, I win.

No one wins. It's a tie

BOTH

A TIE?

A fuckin' tie.

What say you, Jesus?

…

What are you doing on this planet?

Just looking around.

For what exactly.

Traces of life.

—this entire society.

I mean, intelligent life.

This is what Skrillex wants.

Well, give it to him, then.

All of it?

Yeah.

What the fuck.

I don't care.

Wait, where's the—

All of a sudden, I hated everyone and everything

Oh, all of a sudden, eh?

Shut the fuck up.

Good Morning, Kanye.

SHUTTHEFUCKUP.

Well, it was nice knowing you.

Oh, so you think you know me?

I don't know anything.

Madame President.

Are you serious?

An urgent message.

I am not—

—you must leave Paris immediately.

What! For what?

The capital is under siege.

What?! Which capital?

The World Capital.

The what—

Madame.

What year is it?

LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA

2038

Christ Almighty.

I told you I'd be there.

And I could be expected to believe you?

You've got to believe in something.

As many opportunities as I had to ask where to buy methamphetamine, which might have actually helped me work all three of my jobs while I had them, I was never even tempted; and though I had spent the last few weeks puffing feverishly on nicotine products, been offered (and even found) copious amounts of cocaine, and had finally been deemed attractive enough to be invited to go do whippets— I still hadn't budged, and was the for most part, wholeheartedly sober—still abstaining from alcohol, hard drugs, and most regrettably— sex.

Fuck this whole fucking town.

I promise you, this is the bottom of the ocean floor.

I must have gills, then.

I wanted nothing more than to fade away and dissappear; the entire world was eating me alive. I had no intentions of running away, and neither could I afford to stay—the entirety of the world was out of my price range—and with my food stamps having been stolen, i knew it was indeed a personal attack on my mind, and on my body.

So wait, I'm not in the Illuminati?

What is “Illuminati”?

I'm just schizophrenic?

After a night of listening to Dane Cook and his shenanigans, I had somehow settled on the fact that the relevant laughter I had been endowed was indeed a revelation of sorts.

‘I must have schizophrenia. Shit.'

Unfortunately, however — I had a first handed look at how racially biased LA and the rest of the world actually was—and without a doctor to trust to properly treat whatever had been going on in my head, it seemed I was doomed to die scattered across Skid Row like the thousands of other black individuals in Los Angeles whose mental capacity had been shattered through trauma, addiction, and circumstance.

Well, that solves that.

Just file for disability.

Fuck that shit.

‘I'm not seeking help for any sort of mental illness on Medicaid. Fuck that.'

And whether or not it was black and white, it was certainly rich vs. poor—and I would be so easily discarded into an even worse predicament, just for being black, or poor, or a combination of the two.

‘Nope.'

Hold up.

What.

Go back to the Harry Potter thing.

Uh, okay.

SUPACREE returns to HARRY, HERMINONE, and RON/DANIEL, EMMA, and RUPERT after having left them with the entirety of every single entry from the WIZARDING WORLD OF HARRY POTTER FRANCHISE for an entire week.

They are flabbergasted.

You guys okay?

—?!

*weeping inconsolably*

Oh, shit guys.

Where have you been?!

Living my life.

What's that mean?

Not entirely sure.

AAAAAAAGGGGGHHHHH.

Is s/he okay?

Are you bonkers?!

Lol “bonkers”

I speak American!

MEANWHILE, in LONDON

*super British conversation almost entirely incomprehensible to The American Ear*

—Innit.

Innit.

Aphmetamines,

Acrobatics,

Adrenaline,

And aeromatics,

Arithmetic,

Apprentices,

And Apprehension,

Apparation

Fuck,

I hate this

What's my function?

What's my purpose?

What is earth?

What is this?

The truth is,

(It's just physics)

I don't ever want to wake up again

Not in this,

Or any city—

(Any city, this)

It always happens

So, women are obsessed with being tiny and defying age—

Because men are obsessed with youth, and perfection

And either way, it doesn't matter

Cause we all get cheated on

The whole world is racist—

And I might never be loved again

But at least I can say this:

I love LA,

(And hate it)

And I am what I am,

And I guess I didn't make it

But— I can't go back to Africa,

And I have no home here,

I wish I was never born;

Fuck, I wish I was a foreigner!

I don't want to be the President

I don't want to hate the government—

I don't want to be black,

But fuck it, I'm stuck in it

Fuck wherever Skrillex is

And I hate Dillon Francis

I guess I have to disappear

I guess that's just the plan

God, fuck how fat my ass is

Fuck a mansion;

I just want a shitty ass apartment

I can rap in

“That's a wrap!”

Lights, camera, action!

This is Act II.

—LEGENDS.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.

Ahhh. Oh, my gosh, PoPo…Urghhf.

—Brrrrr!!!—

A DJ

Unhhh…. Who dropped the bass in this bitch?!

A BAMPHERAMPH:

I was just just getting comfortable...

Yes, Yes…

I been at a rave.

I'm on the flooI'm on the floor—at a rave r—at a rave

“Somebody save me!”

Oh that was….Wait,

That was me, right?

Right? Rage? Right?

Yay...

(Ahhh. I guess I gotta go...higher. YEAH.)

I'M NOT A LIAR!

I'M ON FIRE, I'M ON FIRE

No, do not save me!

This is my D—

—Wait—DNA

I am D.N.R

Do not resuscitate me!

I am fine!

I am not an Earthling,

Or Martian

I am from other…

Hmmm.

What is a planet, I don't speak this language

I did not invite you,

Bitch get out my— hmmm.

What is this word?

I don't know what it means:

It's just a thing.

It's just a thing.

It's just a thing.

It's just a thing.

It's just another Christmas Tree;

It's just another Christmas Eve.

It's just another fucking trumpet

‘Nother Trumpet—What is he?

Another trump another mothetfucker

Another presidential

Mmmmmmmm…..

What The- What The- What The- What The--

What the fuck, America?!

What's the fuck America?!

What is up, America?

And you

Twerk-twerk-twerk!

What the fuck, America?!

What's the fuck, America!?

Don't look up, America—

I'm a jerk-jerk-jerk!

Yuh.

And, I'm still on the floor at a rave.

It's okay!

It's okay--

it's okay!

Ahh—and I just like LA, yeah.

I'm not safe.

I'm not a savior!

I'm here to save ya!

Let me show you my

Cape—ya

Rape? Nah.

Rape—charge?

Get lost.

I am not a “God”

I'm just an honest—

What's “a lot”?

I'm not a “law.”

But this is all of it:

I bought it.

No, you're on it!

No, I am it

I'm a Planet , Ohh--

--God damn

God damn

God damn

God damn bitch!!!

And I just start—

And I just start—

And then I just

Go HAM bitch!

But—I guess—? I —I don't eat meat so—-

I just go:

Veggie

Veggie

Veggie

Veggie

Veggie

Veggie

Veggie—Tales.

Veggie

Veggie

Veggie

Veggie

Veggie

Veggie

Veggie—Tales.

Whales.

Yuh.

I speak whale, I am Dory!

Uh.

You cannot ignore me!

Nah.

THIS IS MY STORY:

I am the—

I am the—

I am the—

I am the—

I AM THE GLORY.

Bitch,

“I AM.”

“I AM.”

“I AM.”

I am.

HUH.

GET THE FUCK UP!

I am.

I am

I am!

I am!

(Iambic )

10. Skrillex Sandwiches

I like this part, it's like it's like it's like...

Eyyy

Hey.

Hey.

Heya- Hey!!

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.

Whenever I google or Wiipedia someone, the first thing I look at i the introductory sentence: I'm only looking for one word: Is– or was; as in:

“Are you dead, or alive?”

As in, Am I just creeping on you in your waking days, for whatever reason– “Is”-- or, “was”; has the ghost of your remaining consciousness found your way into my subconscious post-mortem for some disastrous, usually terrifying coincidence that I need to know; “waa a” or “was an” usually indicates some kind of eerily relevant dysfunction, circumstance, or synchronicity I just happened to channel out of the blue.

“The Dead Never Rest!”

Do you really need me for seven days?

Can you handle ir?

No, probably not.

“Can you afford $100”

t, probably nor.

No proper fast begins with a bag of potato chips, and therefore I had to eat; I would probably be reeling by the end of it–but there was no room for error here. Mark my misjudgement, but there had to have been something pulling me away from Los Angeles as there was pushing me out–and although the calling felt like music, it might have been something else entirely. Still, I was so heavily committed to Equinox and The Festival Project that nothing else seemed to matter; I certainly had nothing to lose but weight; no family and no promising opportunities in LA, not that I had entirely tried to make any–and I was completely out of patience for the illusion that there was anything for me in the city in its current state or in my class, or race, except for moral degradation, mental decay, and physical misuse of my own vessel for anything besides the purpose of literal corporate slavery and contribution to the immoral inequality of the systems in place. Los Angeles and the entirety of The United States had made an example of many-thousands of people living in the streets as an example of what happens when one has chosen not to comply; a compliance my own body willfully became incapable of cooperating with any longer, as my physical and mental exhaustion overwhelmed any patience I had to stay in a dead-end, low-wage, dishonorable position–and though I was wholeheartedly grateful from what I had learned with my time at The Smokeshop, the same heart took the plunge into the great unknown; an attempt at freedom even I had not foresaw.

However, what I had foreseen, Once Upon An Audiotistic, was my own self sprawled across the streets of Skid Row; a terrible and nightmarish fate I fought desperately to never see, think, or, feel again– and though, again, with the same heart I felt so deeply and truly a love for my own country, and my own city of Los Angeles, which I had grown from and with–the blatant White Supremacy, Racism, Classism, and all out inhumane and immoral allowance of the human racea ss represented through the United States Homeless, Housing, and Mental Health crisis was enough to scare me straight and running towards nowhere–but somewhere, anyway, that I understood there to be less chances of me ending up destitute, dirty, hopeless, homeless, and sleeping in a puddle of my own piss on a train, bus, or out in the cold, hard streets of the beautifu city of angeles, zombies, and broken dreams.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.

I'm the brand new normal:

It's formal

I guess I'll get a little warmer,

And inform ya that I'm the—

Ugh—

I'm the philosopher they prophesied, I guess

I'm the philosopher they prophesied, I guess

I'm the philosopher they prophesied;

I got my eye on

The prize

I guess

And I do not worship idols,

But I guess I worship eyes

I worship them on walls,

And I worship them as spies

If you look into my eyes

I will probably tell you why

It isn't black it isn't white

And I don't want to be your wife—

I just wanna have one night

And I don't wanna ducking fight

I guess I showed up right on time

And if I'm gonna live a life

I guess I gotta live it twice

I am not sugar, I'm not spice

This isn't men this isn't mice

(Hm)

They call me The Queen of Ice

And I am wronging my rights

My rights

My rights

My rights

My rights

Yeah…

And if I gotta go under the knife

To get it right

“Aye aye!”

Aye aye!

I—I—

I—I—

Aye aye

Aye aye…

And if I gotta live a life

I then I'm gonna live it

right

Right?

You're right

You're right

You're right

You're right

You're right

You're right

You're right

In your eye

In your eye

In your eye

In your eye

In your eye

In your eye

In your life

In your life

In your life

In your eye

In your eye

In your eye

In your light

In your light

In your lie

I—I—I

I—I—I

Aye aye

I—I—I

I—I—I

Eye

—your life

In your life

In your life

In your life

In your life

In your life

In your life

In your life

In your life

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.

https://open.spotify.com/artist/3U2n4bcU9peQd2GlKLUsvv?si=XoDme8e2TuyF9-4ulyw9Aw

ugh , where to begin?

Let's just start with–

LADY GAGA aka GAGA has been tasked with strategically marking the grid with

Various entrance and exit points; a job which she has tak quite seriously, and honorably.

Okay, moving forward .

You're not going to expand on that?

No, next thing.

HARRY POTTER, HERMIONE GRANGER

Wait–

What.

Wouldn't it be

HERMIONE WEASELEY

Did they not get a divorce?

I heard that.

That just sounds dumb, I'm not writing that.

That is dumb..

Anyway.

HARRY POTTER, HERMI–

Fuck it.

HARRY, HERMIONE, AND RON have accidentally shifted dimensions and into the bodies of their real-life counterpart, DANIEL RADCLIFFE, EMMA WATSON, AND RUPERT GRINT

Oh damn. I finally found something cool for Emma Watson to do.

That is cool.

SUPACREE

I need you to read all these, and watch all this.

SUPACREE leaves the three magicless, frightened, and shocked–

–flabbergasted–

what .

They're English, they should be flabbergasted.

[They are Flabbergasted]

Wait, go back.

I can't. I Have a hard time writing action scenes

why ?

Cause i'm not getting any.

Lol :

(Holy shit, that is probably why tho.)

Erase.

WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?

It wasn't good.

HOW DO YOU KNOW?!

*shrugs*

!?!-

::||pause.

ok .

So that dude from Drake and Josh is in all these episodes, but we only get one Harry Potter Episode?

Who, Drake Bell?

I guess.

…He seems less busy.

–Don't forget Jimmy Fallon.

Yeah, I still don't get that.

Neither do I.

Why is he even in this?

[Watching Saturday Night Live}

JIMMY FALLON!

Why Is he even in This?

?

?

Fuck it, next thing.

SKRILLEX has finally found SUPACREE; as it turns out, she was in exactly the first place he checked.

YO!

Why, Hello, little man—Do you represent the lollipop guild?

…

She's so mean.

This bitch extra.

Now what's gonna happen?

I don't know. I think they're gonna fight.

Meanwhile

DILLON FRANCIS

You make me sick.

I make myself sick,

Dillon Francis,

It's a habit,

On the sabbath

I regret each and every single passage

That has you in it

“That's Blū, innit?”

Anandar said—

I had fled to Paris

After all was said,

And shattered—what I had for him;

Wishes and shit.

“It's interesting this”,

The doctor and witch

Out in London, she is

I'm running on empty,

My Equinox membership

Set to Destination

“Fuck LA”, then

Guess that was the message

“I did love him,”

(If you're wondering)

But what's wrong with it was,

It was all just a question

I let it all go in my head,

Left his message on read,

“And I'm better off dead, “

I said,

“Than with deadmau5, or any of them”

Fuck the famous, and rich

Cause they'll never understand this,

I lost it all, left it on the kettle just to boil

“Oh, you're royalty.”

Anandar lit the candle—

Then she watched me turn to vandalism,

Sinners win,

The list was lit,

And In the winner's circle,

I just spin around, remitting every penny

Jimmy Fallon left,

Or Lady Gaga did,

Whatever.

Left the Festival Project Unwritten,

A glitch in The Matrix;

More revenue, for Ever and Skrillex,

The daughter I never had,

And I never will.

I said,

“I put it in my will, Anandar,”

Jesus, take the wheel,

And then Amanda said,

“What have you?”

Meth, adrenaline, and fear—

“What lead you here?”

Offenses, endless cash,

And Ritalin, my dear…

“Just take some Acid,

Never ask—

What's mine is yours,

Until I pass…

Another prophecy, a passage?”

Yes, I've written ten,

And then another, here

“That's half a million on the table,”

Just remember,

Eyes for eyes,

And ears for ears.

Happy New Year.

And Happy Birthday,

Like I've been there, even since the beginning

Are we even?

I haven't even had any fun yet

Even Stevens,

Christy Carlson Romano, on Broadway

And Father Said,

“You'll find me here”

And there I was,

And then I left,

I split my soul into ten different images, and frequencies,

Dimensions, into men that managed mischief in subconscious to make ends meat;

Or make ends, or friends—

Dance with models,

Marry them even—

But me?

I'm just fiending for fetishes,

Radishes, blended with

Lavender and chamomile,

Witchcraft, it is—

And this,

An elixir—

To Skrillex and Dillon,

And deadmau5–whoever he is, or he isn't

Whatever

It ends when it ends;

I just quit my job:

“There ain't shit in here but liquor and whippets!

Suck my DICK, and then

Empty the register, foo—

I want all of it;

That's my last check, minus taxes

—Fuck these crackheads spending it on everything, anyway! FUCK THIS.”

—and then, she left.

“She took a left, on Broadway, officer— “

“What was she wearing?”

“Harem Pants, and an OWSLA Letterman”

“Oh man,” said Fred, or Ahem—

“Officer Rawlings”

“What's wrong?”, said the Sergeant.

“We passed her on the way here—“

“Wait—“

“She was awesome;

I bought the song ::||pause, on Spotify,

I support local artists—“

“Unless they're involved in a robbery!l”

“Honestly, officer—”

“Rawlings”

“Uh— Sargeant”

“It's alright; the money she took off with was marked

“For Motion Picture Purposes Only”

Check. Mate.

GODDAMIT.

Fuck Hollywood, honestly—

Fuck all of it

Fuck getting all this weight off,

Being polished, and wanted like

Kayla Lauren

Fuck,

It's 1 PM in London,

Sunny,

Fuck, my luck is running under cover

From the something

I'm abundance,

I've got everything I need;

I might have won, at Sundance,

But I left the cover of the document

Without my number

I can't remember where I come from,

Nah,

I'm just the runner

Burning flames that flicker whispers

While Anandar sifts through visions,

Granting wishes, shit

I could take this for granted

“Granite countertops in London?

Where'd you find this Flat?”

“On Craigslist.”

I would probably never finish The Infinite Skrillifiles; they were, in fact, infinite…

And it just so happens,

That it's never ending,

It's the infinite and twisted, isn't it?

You brought me in,

And then left me here,

The curse has been lifted;

Every lift comes from the middle of the tension

Less Attention deficit,

A merry go round—

Will you marry me, miss?

He said,

Or, rather asked;

She said

“God is a dancer,”

(Or, rather, choreographer, If you will)

“At your will, then”

Will it end?

I doubt it,

But I guess it all depends

On where and when—

The entrance to the exit is,

My friend?

I'll at least call you that, my phantom

Dressed as shadows

Capture effervescent glimpses

Of this, and whatever

Dimension I drift into next

I miss you, next

It's just a habit

Yes,

I call you friend,

But I've been better since

I haven't had them

Yes, is

The answer to the question,

Pass Little Damage,

Found the passage,

Ask me one more question

I might have to vanish—

Have to vanish

Yes, my friend,

It's never ending

Yes, my friend,

I never let you go

I never left, my friend

I'm here, right now,

I was there right then.

And wow,

I'll have a laugh at how it turned out,

When I have to,

I'm just passed out,

Adding and subtracting hours

From my law of attraction

Yes,

I'll have to love you to the end

I guess I'm better off for that,

And yes, I call you friend

It's never ending: infinite, it is,

My friend, I guess I'll have to

Dance with phantoms, shadows,

Till you get to

Wherever this is

You have my attention,

Yes,

My friend,

He is

My friend

Don't cry again.

What.

If you cry, I'll shoot you in the face.

So either way, I get what I need?

Just shut up.

Screenshot, Jesus

Make believe it isn't evil that I'm seeing

In my dreams,

I wake alone,

I walk alone,

I died alone, against my tree

Keep creeping into,

Seeping into things I needed,

But don't be there,

Never wary, Jesus,

This is all I need to really see

It's make believe

(It's make believe)

It's just another lucid dream

It's make believe

(It's make believe)

I think it's all inside of me

It's make believe

(It's make believe)

I need to keep repeating

Sequences, and sequins,

Blowing leaves into the streets,

Beneath the tree

I need to see you—

Need to see, the end,

At last at least;

I think it's make believe

(It's make believe)

It's make believe

(It's make believe)

https://open.spotify.com/album/4flix5NKGhxDwqpClFhVPD?si=i4YjWh5MSHmYavi7ovKCsA

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.

I solemnly swear I am up to no good.

Did it work?

Fuck—it worked!

It fucking worked!

Alright—

—where is she?

There she is.

Don't leave me here!

Sorry Gerald, I promise it's not for long.

It's always long!

I'm sorry, dude.

Take me with you.

No, I can't.

Yes you can!

Gerald, I can't!

—yes you can!

Don't repeat yourself.

I—just— look, stay here.

Do I have a choice?!

No, not really.

*sighs*

Finally, you're here.

Yes I am.

Welcome back, kid.

It's the future!

It's—yes.

Fuck this shit.

What?

Wake me up.

Already?

Yeah, fuck this.

There's a purpose.

Everything has purpose—

—supposedly.

—supposedly.

[beat]

Where's Dillon Francis?

DILLON FRANCIS, YOU PIECE OF SHIT.

DON'T BLAME ME.

ITS YOUR FAULT.

I feel like we should all take equal responsibility for this

—ITS YOUR FAULT.

Okay, okay.

He plays a mean guitar.

—and it's obvious, that's what she wants

Ominous, even, but

He's a star,

So posh—

And she's awkward,

At work,

All full of nonsense—

It's just imagination, kids

You'd better use it

Before you're older

Oh!

Don't stop now,

The doors open

No!

Don't close it,

You know

You know you got options

Stop, or just pause

It's an awful lot, Hollywood

Gunshots and all,

She's got nothing but God left

Stop, drop, and roll

Or just, pause

Or just hold, kid

We're rolling

‘—I'm on one, ‘

It's awful, you know,

What stardom does

She's not lost,

Not forgotten,

It's just been picked up;

Season One, is, for starters

The end, where it started

‘You're a star, kid'

Oh!

Don't stop now,

The doors open

No!

Don't close it,

You know

You know you got options

Stop, or just pause

It's an awful lot, Hollywood

Gunshots and all,

She's got nothing but God left

He's down on his knees,

She don't know what he needs,

It's just not her—

It's awful, what stardom does

Stop, but don't start it

Pause, if you want, or

Just roll with it

“I'm on one”

I'm lost,

But I'm still on my mark

Ready, set, go—

On your marks,

Here's a hallmark card, for your mom

In the moment, I want him

But oh, I'm so lonely

“We're rolling”

Lifhts, camera, action

I act as if everything's okay,

But Oh!

Son, I worry,

I was once a mother

I've got—

Nothing but God left

(And Equinox)

Lol

KNOCK, KNOCK, BITCH.

Uhh—who's there?

OPEN THE DOOR, TIMMY.

[he nervously does so]

Hey.

(Mockingly)

“Hey”

Uh—

I didn't expect you so soon.

What is “soon”?

Like, not today.

Well, it's today.

What a suprise.

I love suprises.

Oh, you do?

C'mon, pay up.

[he palms a set of crinkled bills out of his pocket and hands them over.]

$81?

Heh—Suprise!

You've got to be shitting me.

Look, I'm sorry.

No apologies, Timmy.

I am sorry…

I gave you a job.

Yeah, I know.

So I expect you to get it done.

I'll get it.

Don't lie, Timmy!

I'm not lying, I—

Who's your friend?

Who—what? —Gerald?

“Gerald?”

That's—just a piñata.

Hm.

What?

I'll take that.

No, you can't!

Yes I can.

Please—

See you, Timmy.

FUCK.

JIMMY FALLON, THE COSMIC AVENGER, lurks in the corner of the SPRING ARCADE BUILDING.

I see Ew.

Are you serious?

MWA-HA-HA.

I don't like you.

Yes you do.

Fuck off, Jimmy.

Watch your language!

Watch yourself, foo!

—we're still waiting.

Waiting On what?

[JIMMY FALLON- THE COSMIC AVENGER HAS VANISHED, Leaving no trace besides a singular, spinning penny.]

FUCK.

It is what it is—

It's just money,

It spends, honey

It's just Skrillex

I'm just a menace to society with feelings—

Do you feel it?

Come on,

I've got to get my songs out,

And works published

That's one novel,

And another one;

I still love you

What an honor

I'm sorry, hun

I warned you,

I'll warm up in the long run

It's not funny

I'm not watching it if he's not on

A sift assumption

A hot lunch?

It's my first one,

Since the long holidays

Took a long run this morning

At Equinox

But it's not enough yet

No one loves me

God, I love Long walksin the sun

But don't need a dollar for it

Is this what you wanted, Nickelodeon?

I'm the wrong one;

That's some luck

You fought me on the clock

But now i'm stuck watching it

I give no fucks,

No, not one

You all watched as I wrote psalms

Drove off a bridge cause I want a hug

And still haven't got one

At least not outside of the smoke shop

I'm a broke God,

But not for long.

I might belong to someone

If I get this weight off

And thank Thoth

For the offer, the alter, the snake talk

And I hate croissants, and tater tots

And Walmart—till they pay me off

(Or lay me off! Ha!)

What a sponsor

I'm an alcoholic,

I'm your handsome daughter,

Coughing blood up like Walter

Shake the coke off, but I'll take the water,

If it makes me hot enough to wear a halter top next summer.

Jimmy.

Hmm?

Why is it that you live seated so deeply within my subconscious mind, that I find you wherever I go?

[JIMMY FALLLON looks up from the newspaper, one leg crossed over the other, the blue hues of his 3-piece suit gleaming broadly against the pale and smug look on his face. He sighs deeply, takes a sip of his very hot-cocoa looking Hot Mocha Beverage, looking over the golden rims of his glasses, exhales heavily and peers into her eyes.]

You know why.

AAGGHH—

CUT TO:

what do you do with your life?

This. Pretty much.

Dang.

Yeah.

W0W.

Yeah.

Ah, I see—

A new muse;

If I refuse you,

Who would light the fuse;

If I consume you, then—

Who would spin our world into cartoons;

If I lose you too soon,

Will you review this exposition

That I'm glued to?

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.

[TIMMY TURNER puffs on an extra Long cigarette out the side of his mouth. ]

Yeah, fuck Dillon Francis.

Jeez, Timmy, that sounds personal…

Nothin's personal—it's just business.

Hey, yeah—what is your “business” anyway?

None of your business.

I mean, I feel like it is—

You know, for a piñata, you sure talk a lot.

I'm not just a piñata, man.

Could've fooled me.

Someone had left a gift for me—and for sometime now I had been certain that my impending fame had all been a dillusional hope, now I was certain there was someone following me—or even more certainly, several steps ahead; I found directly in my path, precisely—a shiny penny, a healthy heap of cocaine, and a green piece of paper, accompanied with a folded DT news with a phone number scribbled out onto it—a phone number I wasn't sure I should call or text (and probably wouldn't).

“Oh, it's cocaine!” I exclaimed, laughing, shaking it off and bouncing jovially to whatever song was playing—and whatever it meant, assuring myself that it meant absolutely nothing—I was just happy to be headed to Equinox, even as fat as I had gotten in my time away.

‘Goddammit, I'm lonelier than I thought.'

Equinox was full of bodies—perfect ones, to be precise, as it always was—and here I was, just me, myself—convinced that this was where I needed to be to succeed in fitness. It had been easy coming—or at least, as easy as it was ever going to be— but hard to stay, thoughts of my immidiate needs dancing in my head with my medeocrity. I was hungry and had just finished a hefty fast, but now was running out of money for food—and though I had entirely let go of ever being able to afford my own apartment, thus using my measley savings, which would have taken months to grow into what was needed to move into an apartment on my own, on re-initiating mu Equinox membership; ‘At least”, I thought “I'll be more LA.” Less food, more water, and the will to work much less than even I thought I was worth, somehow sufficing the energy to take in the harsh and sometimes unreasonable circumstances that Downtown LA had to offer. I had given up, for the most part, being a DJ, succeeding in music, and trying at all for anything in the realm of arts and entertainment, but especially music, releasing all the music I could at once, as I had already paid for the distribution—and anything else creatively was coming to a complete standstill, writers block perhaps approaching quickly. It had been long since I had been loved, held, or even thought of in the way any woman would wish—and as it turns out, I was more of a woman than I myself had thought, and probably anyone else.

https://open.spotify.com/album/4flix5NKGhxDwqpClFhVPD?si=i4YjWh5MSHmYavi7ovKCsA

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.

It had been raining for nearly two weeks straight, besides for one day, during which I slept through its entirety; I had not been so seriously, physically ill in years— the combination of undue stress from the job I mostly hated, the crippling depression of working full time and still never having enough money for anything, and sharing my living space with 3 other, typically irritating, messy people with seemingly no home training—or perhaps, as I was learning—a common low standard of cleanliness was almost guaranteed amongst any group of people, but especially men; and I was growing to hate and resent men more and more (not that I fancied women any better, but at least respected them for being women.)

I hated everyone now, but especially myself— the grand illusion of success had been shattered living amongst the lower drudges of society too long, and working too hard—not that anyone else wasn't—in fact, my coworkers were all tired, overworked, and miserable in some way, which empathically aligned with the way I had been feeling—absorbing every toxic thing that happened into my perception for whatever reason and twisting my world into a hellish nightmare once more; at least I was willing to admit it was partly my fault; I had given up on all of my dreams, just about—abandoning them in exchange for hopes of finally having my own apartment. I just wanted to cook again—to walk around perhaps in the nude, to workout regularly enough that I felt like a human, rather than a ticking time bomb—-and I was, a ticking time bomb—forced to believe in time by the simple notion of clocking in and clocking out just to be able to afford my humanity.

It was clear that it wasn't only a homelessness crisis; there seemed to be an honest-to-God race war, blacks littered all over the streets and those of us with any energy left being depleted of it in the trade of modern slavery—most others turning to side hustles, filling in the deficit of the cost of living by selling drugs, or pussy—both of which, by now, I was sure I had no talent for.

In fact, I wasn't sure if I had any talent at all; my mantras sank into unrecognizable, unbelievable chatter in the back of my mind, which seemed more delusional than doable—I hadn't stepped foot inside a gym, even for a moment since the new year; I only felt like crying, trying to either figure out a palpable plan for suicide or escape, and though things still seemed to strangely add up, I was still out of sorts and malaligned; I was willing to admit for the first time in years that I actually needed love, rather than just wanted it—and yet the reigning white supremacy seemed to take pride and joy in knowing I'd rather die alone than to set my standards any lower—with my own circumstances too out of range for any one decent to actually consider.

I wasn't myself—in fact, I was a little bit of every single person I had been forced to be around, for the worse or for the better, and nothing at all was benefiting me besides the sleep that so easily came after sunrise, even on my nights off—Fridays and Saturday's, which I might have enjoyed, or somehow found a way to work myself into the Los Ángeles DJ circuit, which seemed, again, out of my reach and even tinged with an ever slight hint ot racism as well.

A friend of a friend of a friend of Pasquale Rotella, no coincidence, had happened into my midsts by way of joining the night crew at DTLA smoke shop, which ran about 5 other stores in within a one-mile radius of each other and scattered it's ten or so employees, including myself across the locations to fulfill the needs of the business, of course, for a humble 17.00 an hour, placing us all exactly on the poverty line and well-below a living wage, which I had dermined did not exist anywhere in the United States anymore.

I wanted more than anything to leave, but knowing that if I did leave LA again, I would probably never come back; I felt disturbed and disgusted by the lack of humanity in the city alone, but all knowing full well that the globalist state had altered even Mexico to its standards, and Mexico, being as honest as ever, even to former residents—and especially myself, after being accustomed again to climate control and flushing toilets—was pretty crappy.

My stomach pains had crippled me for the last two days, and with the amount of stress and pressure building up I had nothing good left to give the world. At all.

Strikingly suicidal, I wanted nothing to do with the with the world around me at all—I wasn't in the right place, I thought, or the right mindset; I had lost all but my last bit of strength and the energy it took to push forward, somehow, still, though, getting out of bed on time and to work early or just on time, but only because my space in a clean warm bed depended on it—just like anyone else in the city.

I was fed up with men, women, and only really ever took pure joy in dogs and children; again, at a breaking point, combing the streets for glass to slit my wrists and rest peacefully, wondering how long it would take anybody in LA to notice I was dead and not just another black woman slewn across the streets to sleep in filth (probably awhile), as sometimes the homeless smelled dead and acted like it, too, which seemed enough of a red flag at the time to speak for the white supremacy's outright hatred for people of color; it wasn't simply a homelessness crisis, income inequality, drugs, or mental health; it was a targeted gentrification as it had always been, by the same proprietors: who brought the ancestors of the modern day African Americans overseas to work, in the midsts of slaughtering the ancestors of the modern day native Americans; and there wasn't a thing you could do to convince me that Beverlywood Becky worked just as hard as anyone else did, as she complained daily over her oat milk latte of HOW HARD THINGS ARE, boasting about the cash and prizes she swept up over the holiday season from mommy, daddy, and family galore, and just looking for “the other flavor Elfbar”

‘Excuse me, while I try not to vomit and wonder what the fuck a Christmas stocking is, while trying to be as invisible to white people as we are to them'

What the Fuck is a family;

Hang me from a tree and cut some turkey

It's too early for this shit

I need to hurl, I think

This lady smells like pee

And wants me to buy her something

But yo, I'm homeless, too—

I mean,

I finally got a room,

But this is what I go through for it:

THE LA CRISIS:

UNLEASHED.

(Ew)

Fuck this,

But don't fuck the government;

They're already trying to kill us over nothing

Nothing's prosperous, no

No political ambitions, actually

I just want to disappear from this

Don't have the energy to work 2 jobs,

I need to rest

I need to sleep

I need to eat more super greens,

And honestly,

I might just be a vegetarian,

Not a vegan, I've been thinking

But I dont know;

(I don't care anymore)

I lost love

(It's just not there anymore)

I never sold my soul;

But for a home alone,

I'd probably sell it,

And roll over—

In the rain, dang

Hey,

I feel your pain,

It's crazy how debilitating

Telepathy and empathy can be

I need a week at least,

Just free from human beings,

But

8 billion and counting, damn

Your racist grampa's still alive, (and voting)

And laws keeps passing,

And employers just don't care,

Cause they're not there

They're somewhere enjoying

Self employment, and business ownership

Damn,

I wish my dad hadn't talked my mom out of the abortion,

I'd have more fun never being born

Than being born this.

Fuck this.

Fuck this.

Fuck this.

But they say,” you are the world, “

So I guess I ain't shit,

I'm racist,

And never on vacation —

Oh wait,

I'm just American,

And not some lucky Caucasian

Or Asian,

With parents who inherited greatness

(Or worked harder, in another generation)

All my parents ever did was

Mix

Go. Be a DJ.

I don't want to be a DJ.

Be a DJ.

I don't want to be a DJ.

Be a DJ.

Das my boss;

She make tha bread—

I just make croutons

Mothsfuckinin genius you could call me Jimmy neutron

Not a rapper. A DJ.

No, I'm black, so I gotta be a rapper.

No, that's not how that works.

Not everything is black and white;

I just keep writing, day and night

I want to blow my brains out,

And my heart is turned to ice,

If Jesus Christ ever arrives,

I really doubt it would be nice.

This place is pretty.

Right?

Alright. Back to the 9-5s

I can't smoke crack, but meth sounds nice

If it'll help me stay alive

And pay my bills on time.

I'm kidding.

No you're not.

Maybe not.

I might be living just the same in any city,

Check-to-check;

I don't need pity—

Just a pistol,

Or a penny

Just remember to remember

Jimmy

When shit gets interesting,

(I pick up every penny, every penny)

JIMMY FALLON:

THE COSMIC SORCERER

Was that it?

Had to be.

Are you sure?

We need a cosmic sorcerer!

There's only one person in the universe who specializes in cosmic soecery!

Are you serious?

I must be a writer or something.

(Or something.)

BE A DJ.

No.

why.

Cause I'd have to be skinny and I really like croissants in the morning.

Welcome to 30.

Cooool. I'm a deadbeat.

[beat]

Fuck! I'm a loser!

Wtf is the world on?

Idk. We're in a matrix simulation thingy.

TWEAKER

Excuse me, do you know how to exit The Scope and The Dome?

…

TWEAKER

I mean—ahem—The Artificial Intelligence Simulation?

…

…

…

…

NO.

It was,

“JIMMY FALLON: THE COSMIC AVENGER@

That makes more sense.

No it doesn't.

Yes it does.

No, it doesn't.

Nothing about Jimmy Fallon makes sense.

SIR.

“Sir!?”

Pause.

What.

It's time for Whole Foods pizza and Rick and Morty.

Ok.

Hot mic. Hot mic—

This shit don't look right,

Look right,

New bike,

New life,

Shoe fits:

Blu twice

I blew through you like cool ice,

It's not nice, it's just life

I roll dice, roll dice like:

“Seven twice, seven twice”

That's right:

It's my homecoming

I got no home, yet,

It's been humbling

I'm crumbling:

Not mentally, but physically—

A different spirituality,

Reality is everything I see,

And keep imagining:

Like blank checks,

At the bank like,

“What's next”

At the bank like,

Big bills only,

Employee bonuses and royalties,

I'm royally offended, with these boys

Too fuckin horny;

Use your girlfriend's Apple Pay,

But she's under 18

So show me your ID:

You fucking nasty,

Firstly and lastly;

I'm happy if you're happy—

Just don't pass me in the street,

Holding hands, she

She just not like me,

But just as likely

Sweet and spicy—

Cause you're a chicken nugget.

Aha.

I got your sauce, right here

I'm in the box,

But you can spend the night here,

This shit ain't right here,

I'm drinking light beer,

They call me “Kike” here,

The rock meets the kite, here,

And I'm just tying it together,

So it's clear,

we're in the clear,

Don't want to hear you,

Stretch my ears,

And so you're always here,

Got your mark right there,

And so you're right there,

I can't sleep at night,

You hear?

Someone's always coughing,

Nothing's nice here

There's no life here,

We all died here

We all died here

We all died here

But I'm,

Feeling a bit better tonight,

I'm better tonight,

I gotta work on my life,

Cause I'm in a crisis,

I'm writing, my rights

And I'm fighting my wrongs,

I'm on a broad spectrum—

Doesn't matter to me—

Brown eyes, blue eyes,

green eyes,

Black eye, on a black girl,

I died

I died

I died

Two birds on a wire,

Two truths, for the liar,

Hell isn't all fire,

Sometimes, the sun shines here,

Sometimes, toilet paper in short supply here

Sometimes, I'm a writer,

Sometimes I'm the man of the hour,

Thats my power:

“Now, I am her”

Let's go,

Mano a Mano

No Hablo,

I'm fact, I am leaving tomorrow,

Sorry Pablo,

I gotta go

I gotta go, go

One door opens,

Another one closes:

Come closer, you fuckin poser

Some yoga poses on a poster,

Now he owns her,

I'm just over it.

I'm not tryin to be your person,

I'm not worth it,

I'm worthless,

It hurts, but,

I'm not even worth a purse,

If the hearse fits,

Ain't no last nail in the coffin

I need my nails did,

But I'd rather play guitar,

Hail Satan,

Or Hail Mary,

Or hail racists:

Raise the flag,

Make it American

Make it a bag of

Whatever this is

Whatever this is

“She don't even call no more”

Gone girl

“She don't even call no more

Gone girl

“She don't even call no more”

Gone girl

Lost in the world, girl

The wrong girl,

Don't belong, girl

I can play the phantom,

Lastly,

I need a laugh, though

So,

Where'd you go,

Where'd you go?

Were you hoping for an encore?

I'm so bored,

I'm sober,

I'm sore,

I'm lonely

—I'm no whore, but

I won't hurt you more,

I'll help you, here

My love is free

My love is free

My love is free,

If that's all you need:

I need a body,

Please

The only way,

Any man could love me

This is Hell, In here,

Clearly, the end is near,

It's Lucifer, again

He's a seer:

And I'm a mirror,

I never needed her more than now

I never needed him, but now

All I really want is my guitar back

I don't want to be a star, I'm past that

I hate stars

I hate celebrities

I hate cars,

I don't really need

A puppy—

But I want one

I don't really see any,

But I want love

I don't really see Annie anymore,

But she is cute

I don't blame you,

I don't blame you,

I don't blame you

On a bicycle built

For two

But it's just me here

I love you

But it's just me here

I love you

But it's just me here

Just a mirror,

Do you see, here?

Don't you come near me!

Don't you come near me!

don't you come near me,

Don't you come close to me

Why don't you fear me?

Don't dance so close to me—

I can say anything.

Anything

Do you really love me?

I'm not paranoid,

I'm not avoiding you,

I'm just too suicidal

I know you're just an actor,

Gotta get my bag up

Gotta count my fractions,

Man, it's just a fracture,

A concussion,

And contractions.

A contusion,

I'm confused when

This stupid unusual gloom

Turns to fusions and tunes

I need fumes just to do this

A Flum is my movement

I need to move,

I'm just getting used here

But I was just getting used to it

Dude

Sunni Blū's here

I'm ruthless,

Call me toothless—

I spit toothpicks,

And stupid duces,

I'm two shits,

I'm you, prick

If pickle Rick gets this,

I'll buy a Malibu crib,

To scribble my Skrillex in

Fuck

Still getting mentions in my shit,

I'm a menchies doing crunches

And a mix,

Getting fit again

Fuck fitting in

I'm infinite

I'm lifting Skrillex,

If the shoe fits,

It's probably his

Here's a gauntlet,

For you haunting me,

The hotmixx is awfully SUPACREE

But she's retiring,

And noone's hiring a minor,

For this hierarchy,

Archie Bunker's high and I'm in pieces

Needy, greedy,

A hypocrisy of OxyContin

Not incontinent, (yet)

But intercontinental

Sentimental,

It's a mental thriller,

I'm for real,

If nothing else is

FUCK THIS BUSINESS.

Sunni.

NO. I QUIT.

You're under contract.

YOU'RE UNDER CONTRACT.

it's your contract.

FUCK THIS SHIT.

AGH. SUNNI, DONT.

[Sunni Blū throws an entire Television set out of the 30th floor window]

Nooo.

PAPARAZI.

Yessss.

*snap*snap*snap*

*click*click*click*

*picture*picture*picture*

[Sunni's IPhone Buzzes]

APPLE NEWS:

TMZ:

PITCHFORK:

THIS JUST IN! SUNNI BLŪ THROWS VINTAGE TELEVISION SET OUT OF THEIR APARTMENT WINDOW

SUNNI BLŪ: GUYRL GONE MAD

SUNNI BLŪ LOSES A FUSE

AGGGHHHHH.

You paid $50,000 for that TV.

I DONT GIVE A FUCK, MORGAN:

I PAID $50,000 for SOME DUDE'S LEFT NUT—

—AND WHAT DID I GET? THE RIGHT ONE.

OH MY GOD.

GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!

THIS IS YOUR OFFICE.

Stop yelling at me.

I—

[MORGAN jumps out of the window]

Woah. That's never happened before.

[SUPACREE catches MORGAN midair, cape, flying into the window one story below.]

YOU HAVE GOT TO STOP HER!

*them.

YOU'VE GOT TO STOP—Them—

—stop yelling at me in my office—

— isn't it you?

In a sense.

What—which sense?

I love love,

For what it's worth;

I love love,

I love him,

I love her—

I love peace

I love war

I was her, once—

Hi—

What's your life like?

You just killed me; in a drive by—

I'm sorry,

Don't mind my eyes, miss,

I should go blind

Shine all night —

Your whole life;

I'm trying to end mine.

My, my, my

Must be the end of mh life, life, life

Took my seat,

Always right in front of me,

And I'm always falling behind, hind, hind

What's your life like?

It might be time to fly

(Im in a bind)

I just can't live a lie

I'm colorblind

It might be time to try;

But if I cry again,

I'll die again inside

—-

I know we don't talk no more,

But—

Every other song's about you,

You know, you know

And I really don't open doors,

But I sure know how to close em,

Close em

I'll never be quite ready for my close up,

Hold up;

Should probably put my phone up,

And grow up,

But you know, you know, you know

It never gets old, no

You know, you know, you know

So you're never gonna show up,

So what

So I'm never gonna blow up,

So what

And I should probably go,

But you know;

I'm never really home,

Or alone,

So you know,

You know?

Don't blow it

(Blow a kiss through the window, before it fogs up)

I owe it to you, this one

(It's a real long road, and I don't know where it goes)

It's not All lonely, and hopeless

At least for the moment;

I'll spend it on something I love,

And I love ya

So you're never gonna show up,

So what

So I'm never gonna blow up,

So what

And I should probably go,

But you know;

I'm never really home,

Or alone,

So you know,

You know?

—-

Oh, a rap song.

Fuck, I hate rap

I'm not a rapper;

I'm a trash can-

Blast from the blast, man,

On your candid ass camera

I'm a black man,

Hands up—

I'll take your fuckin

INT. LA CAFE. 11:55 PM.

BLŪ! ORDER FOR BLŪ m.

‘You have to spend it on something you love.'

I had been wondering what it could be that I loved so much that I would actually spend them on, the 24-color coded Jimmy Fallons I had collected—each of them my last dollar at some point, and never spent, as a token of faith — some dumb kind of ritual I had begun with no true intention of anything at all, and without an explanation to even myself as of why. I had entirely abandoned Jimmy Fallon's galaxy; actually, I had abandoned all of my creations almost entirely, and though I continued to write, at least most of the time…

‘Fuck, they forgot my tater tots. ‘

I didn't really need them, but paid the extra $4.50 anyhow, as it was almost magical that my burrito and smoothie (considerably, or so, I thought, with the tater tots) had come to $24 — the exact amount of Jimmy Fallon's I had collected in the months I had been in Los Angeles—not that I wasn't growing a bit tired and weary of the place, however, nor could I afford to do anything else, really—or go anywhere that I actually wanted to.

I really did love tater tots—and had been craving them ferociously, as the Whole Foods Market had so conveniently stopped making them in the mornings, just as I had run out of the time and energy to show up at the gym as regularly as I wanted or needed. Still, as I planned the following week's fast, I dreamed of my return to Equinox; and somewhat of a return to the normalcy I had built for myself—and though I would never quite be as dazzlingly thin or attractive as Kayla Lauren, I'd at least be closer to my own self—whoever that was,

— in the body I was given to work with—or work for; its high maintenance, a handicap well enough worth having—at least, if It meant I might one day be loved again.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.

Hey, babe;

Come and sit at my table—

I'll pay you;

Forget Ableton;

Look what Abel did

In this fable

Fan, or a friend;

Paper and pen,

Here's a friend of a friend,

If you're interested,

I've been listening

Intentions;

Inventive dictation

Creating a masterpiece

That's an actress.

Yeah, I've been sad,

I've been hopeless;

Until the door opens,

It's just customer service,

Honest.

Come have a bite of this servitude,

I like your additude,

Bad and cool—

Try to relax, if you can,

My dude

Cool.

Now I'm in graduate school,

I need tutors and rulers, a few books—

I'll like being blonde, if I have to.

Damn,

I thought I was the master…

You are;

I just had to be candid,

An actress— an Actor:

I am you.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.