| L E G E N D S: ICONS. |

Holy shit, if you want to find the thickest cult of anti-christians, try Quora.

Enough said.

I'm not even a christian, and that place is hooooooorrrrriiiiblllllle.

HORRIBLE.

It made me anti-anti christian.

Okay. Someone hurt you. You grew up in a world of lies and it just so happened to be under the guise of some form of christianity that made you hate it and everybody associated with it.

But goddamn.

(Literally.)

You can't even exist on quora without one of these people coming out of nowhere and being like

It's the CHRISTIANS and their CHRISTIANITY.

“Go pray to YOUR GOD”

Like, holy fuck–

Again, quite literally–

I almost converted BACK to christianity just because these people are so horrible, it gave me the taste of the actual DEVIL in my mouth just reading how hateful it was.

Like.

I deleted quora.

I think it's normal to delete regular social media because of this stuff.

Facebook, Instagram–

You hear this all the time.

“Oh, I deleted my insta”

“I hate facebook”

“I'm not on snapchat anymore”

BUT QUORA?

It's supposed to be a community of enrichment and knowledge.

“GO PRAY TO YOOOUUURRR GOOODDDD”

Woah.

Here's a little tip:

Your lack of belief in God doesn't change my belief in God, just like my belief in God doesn't change your disbelief in God, so–

Technically–My God is also your God and I don't have to go pray to it, you just said the prayer for me–

Yes. Your hatred has re-instituted my faith entirely.

Solidified.

I think God is good…

It's just humanity i'm concerned about.

HUMANS AREN'T REAL.

Next up: Back To The Music

THE WORLDENDERZ are a secret band of superheroes—their secret identities include the various roles on the overnight shift at a popular chain of super-gyms, Las Vegas Athletic Club—

“The Night Shift “

A miniseries

The Night Shift is a mockumentary style miniseries which follows the secret identities of a band of superheroes in their day-to-day working the graveyard shift at LVAC; before forming The a world Enders, they comedicly attempt to mask using their multi dimensional and extraterrestrial superpowers, each unknowing that they are all respectively some of the most powerful beings in the universe, however, after SUPACREE is spotted by a mole from one of the various agencies tracking her, a plan is hatched to turn the unwittingly suspicious and mysterious strangers into an intergalactic multidimensional task force, forming the WORLDENDERS.

It's WORLDENDERZ.

Yeah, that's what I said.

With a Z.

No, that's stupid.

YEAH IT IS.

DO IT.

Alright—

WORLDENDERZ

The World Enders are an elite task force of super-powered extraterrestrial hybrids developed to aid in post-apocalyptic recovery and planetary regeneration after imminent doom in other worlds as well as parallel realms and realities.

They all share a multitude of each other's powers, some carrying variations of respective powers and abilities, which include telepathy, invisibility, teleportation, invisibility, and super speed/strength, but also each have a set of specific special abilities unique to their individual selves. All gifted shapeshifters, they use these skills to cloak their true hidden talents and ulterior motives—though no players intention ever goes against the grain of the greater good.

MELLO

Gift of gab. A demon slayer and chaos magician, who uses her bubbly personality and friendly demeanor to mask her dangerous and destructive rage—which actually summons previously-slayed demons, to use against the enemy in attack. Special Ability/Secret Power: The Power of Jesus Christ.

THE ORANGE JULIUS

Turns junk food into nuclear energy; sometimes glows (bright neon orange) in the dark—he also makes incredible smoothies, which, if consumed, transmits some of his nuclear power to its consumer.

UNC

A demon slayer, who uses his shape shifting ability to appear in his 20s, but is actually 75.

QUASIMODO

Brings inanimate objects made from planetary or organic materials into living form, usually used for repopulating planets where a mass extinction has occurred.

DOCTOR OSBORNE

Doctor Osborne is paying off his medical school debt by secretly working a night job across town at a nearby gymnasium—he spends his other 16 hours as a brain surgeon, using his superpowers to save lives by performing miracles during operations in which the survival rate are slim to none; this accounts for his beyond tired and lackluster behavior during his time at the gym—however his certain onset narcolepsy is often a conviniéndote key to success in many of the world Enders missions.

ORION

“A real nigga”

A world builder and extremely gifted seer with immense telepathic and telekinetic capabilities.

Copyright [The Festival Project] 2022

C.C.S. Monroe

AKLA, Inc.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

Light Up The Night Sky.

This Is The Desceiption.

George Washington

John Adams

Thomas Jefferson

James Monroe

Nope, can't for the life of me remember the 5th

Oh shit, I was wrong

Turns out, my memory only can hold three.

That's a good number

I really wish you'd stop just–showing up like this.

I never leave.

Then go away.

I live here.

I know you'd like to think that, but–

Okay, I'm going to tell you something but I need you to remain calm.

What time is it?

I don't care

Are we gonna make a movie?

Depends; is it gonna make me money.

FINE.

I don't need anymore information about anything else: only these three.

Are you serious?

I wish I wasn't.

I need you to do this.

Look, Timmy–I'm not really into grantng wishes anymore. It always blows back on me.

A blowjob.

Uh huh.

That's why you're bothering me.

I–would rather you just pick up the call.

Take a message.

I like ‘em like this.

I like ‘em like that.

I like ‘em like this.

–and I like ‘em like that.

And I like ‘em like this.

–and I like ‘em like that.

Mmm like that.

Like that.

I like ‘em like this.

I like ‘em like that.

I like ‘em like this.

–and I like ‘em like that.

And I like ‘em like this.

–and I like ‘em like that.

Mmm like this

Like that.

Like —

_____

The urge to eat had suddenly left me

I wanted a burrito,

(But I want to eat red meat)

I've gotta stop thinking in sequences and parentheses

Complex lines, and writing in past tense so presently.

I probably should eat

(But probably shouldn't…)

I'm starting to bleed;

As if i'd been fasting

Perhaps, though I had been

But had so indulgently feasted

On calories enough to last me

Till after today

(or even till next week)

PAY ATTENTION.

Woah, to WHAT.

Holy shit, I knew this dude was a psychopath but.

This is real.

ARE YOU SEEING THIS.

I “see” it.

I should stop meditating in public.

You see this? I know everything about you.

Why?

I bought it on the internet.

What is it.

Metadata.

That's…flattering.

Yeah.

Wake up.

Why, where are we going?

Atlanta.

What's in Atlanta?

You see this?

Yes.

Do you know what it is?

Uh, it's a–

What is it?

It's a doll.

It's not a doll.

Oh, it's not.

Gimmie a dollar.

-_-

It's a poppit.

“Dr pimple popper”

Ew that's fucking gross.

I hate this.

Let me see.

Does s/he have backne?

Yes/No.

Great, i'll take it.

Fuckit.

Okay, I got to “whatever”.

You went too far.

What? I thought I was supposed to go past “fuckit”

Yeah, you go past fuckit,

I did that!

But if you get to “whatever”, you've gone too far.

You've gotta go back.

Back to WHAT. There was almost no space between “fuckit” and “whatever”

Oh trust me. There is.

So?

This is how he's been controlling you.

And?

And!?

Has it ever occurred to you that I want to be controlled?

What!

That it just takes the right person to get that kind of permission–

permission to what

Permission to ride.

…

Maybe I gave him the reigns.

What horse “gives” its rider the reigns.

Who said anything about a horse?!

Another Horse Mix.

Nice.

fuck .

FYCK.

I told you.

You know what…
Maybe that's my poppit.

What.

Maybe.

I'm so confused.

Oh, good–the reversal spell worked.

You did a reversal spell on me?

Only after I found out what spell you put on ME–FIRST.

Yeah, except I wasn't the first one to use that spell on you.

EXACTLY. COPY-CAT.

Moo.

Aww.

I'm a cat.

…

*face*

I mean “meow”

That's right. Cat.

…moo.

*face*

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

[When it]

Turns out,

The bottom of your heart

Was the tip of the Ice Berg

And the whole ship has [s]unk[en],

[&] I[t]'s probably ice cold

At the bottom of the ocean;

I'll tell you where i'm from

Why,

I'll tell you anything for

About one dollar

Turns out,

I've already got one eye on you;

One eye'd sad heart

I should probably roll out my art on you

[I probably should not]

One man bought a kiss,

Another, a whole night from her–

One man bought a whole farm

The other, a Whole Foods Market

–and you can't even franchise those

Amazon's got a monopoly

We were playing for corners of earth,

All i got was some kandi,

Subscriptions to candidly,

Actually,

I really liked the tree trial

(I think i'll wait a week, sorry)

When it turns out

The world that you wanted

Was actually hours already

The dollar you got

Was also borrowed

And the money they wanted and got

Was just actually stolen from someone else

They bought all the food up

And sold it for profits

I promise this avocado

Once costs nothing at all

But you wanted that car for your daughter

She's got a mercedes and don't even drive it

My mom, on my honor

Of all the garages in Lost Lands,

I promise the owner of it was

The first to go last,

And the last to come home

Now he's on his own alter

And also the worshiper;

How do you go back?

Oh, you don't

Oh you don't

Oh, you don't wanna know that

But i was of course,

All of your rock bottoms

It's bottoms and tops, and

We don't let the top fall over,

We're counting up crumbs

And this muffin costs $24 dollars

Pour a whole bottle of coconut water out on the sidewalks

For the dead homies

Not dead in the general sense

But just in the head, the heart,

And the soul

The homeless are happier at McDonalds

Than asking at crossroads and crosswalks

For dollars I'd rather spend elsewhere

I'll avoid the power struggle at operations

for about 18 dollars and 56 sense

(Please, keep the pennies)

I'm feeling around in my 6th sense that there's

Something indecent, or decadent

Whichever it is

Cause i'm better of with the memory of it

Than actually dragging it in.

–I'm a cat again.

Ouch.

Shut up.

It HURTS.

Of course it hurts, you just had heart surgery without any anistetics.

YEah, but to be fair–that was a lot of acid.

Yes, but lucily for you–

–or, for him–

Lucily for us, there's no lethal amount of acid.

–Ouch–

–Shut up.

That we know of.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

Might scrap, still learning how to master lvls. Hz/highs/lows whatever I'll figure it out. Wtvs.

I thought running three miles a day would keep her away—and staying away from the toxic lower vibrations—those who gathered in the hallway to socialize and Esther needed one another to survive—would keep her away—

But on that day, though running my typical 5k in under 30 minutes, not to include the mile walk to the bus stop, and the mile walk back from such—which added up to an almost-Madonna—around 5 and a half miles give or take total—only to return to this, yet another body so susceptible to demonic possession that it literally hurt to stand, in the room which I had peacefully inhabited for quite some time, alone—

“I bet you're suprised to see me here, aren't you?”

She said. She had been hiding at the end of the bed, almost invisible—but the vibration of the room itself had changed with her presence—and I knew from the moment I entered the space that someone was there.

“Not really,” I muttered—and I wasn't. I knew it was 50/50, that with the onslaught of new people that had been brought over from the Bronx

Pause

“Lil biiiiiitz”

Dudes are such little bitches at the gym.

Why the fuck are you throwing your weights?

Why—on earth are you tossing those little five pounders across the room.

What the fuck.

And when they're lifting?

The fuck!

The grunting and yelling

“Aaaaaaaagggghhhhh”

Bro. What are you trying to fucking show?

Fucking pussies.

“Aaaaaaaaaaagggggggghhhhhhhhhhhh”

Dude that's like 25 pounds. My left foot weighs as much. Do you see me grunting every time I take a fucking step?

“Aaaagggggggghhhhhh!!!!”

That shit is not cute.

That does not make you more. Strong, I promise.

I'm a whole a female. I promise.

When I see dudes like this at the gym I'm like

“You little bitch.”

“Naaaaaauuuuvhhhhhhhhh!!!!”

Fucking pussy.

I guess that's why at planet fitness they have the “lunk alarm”

That shit made me quit.

Easy.

I was like

“Cancel my shit.” No.

Then dudes who loom at themselves in the mirror too much as their working out.

“Dude, you're gay.”

Fucking stop it.

Dudes be looking at themselves in the mirror at the gym like

“Yeah, yeah.”

I'm like

“Dude, you should just take it in the butt.” That's gay.

Don't get me wrong.

There's nothing wrong with being gay.

I like dudes who take it in the butt.

Makes you more of a man.

But— be private about it.

If you're looking at yourself in the mirror about to bust a nut.

You've got problems, sir.

“Fuck it, I'm just going to do whatever I want.” I thought to myself—I had been burning myself out, running myself rampant, and though making headway, it was still to no avail— my life was loveless, I was penniless, and surrounded by energy I hated—but rather than making me work harder, as it had at first, it tired me so; I felt drained of my energy, and running three miles a day, even though it was only half of Madonn's standard pre-show 6 I had read about, I much doubted anyone with such beautiful blue eyes or luxurious blonde hair had been against any of at all of the adversity or hardships I had—in fact, I theorized quite often that blue eyed blonde haired people spent so much of their lives surrounded by love and light, that they were able to live and dwell off of this energy. But love was almost nearly rarely found in the ghetto—though lust, codependency, and insequirity flourished, there was almost no love around at all—save for the occasional mothers and this r children—that is, the mothers that actually cared for their children, rather than just supplying the world with them like machines, without giving much of a care. The hundreds of immigrants in the neighborhood often seemed more like cattle than actual human beings—then—most human beings did seem to be somewhat unconscious, and more sheepish than ever—the entire world had been programmed into an unconscious lull.

“I'm not running—for what?” I thought obstinately. “Nobody's paying me.” It was true, and it seemed the Illuminati was playing games with my Monty once again—I had received one out of six of the overdue backpay I had earned—and I found it uncanny the ability for the unemployment agency to act as if the money itself didn't belong to an individual—it had, after all, come out of a paycheck I had worked to earn at some point, and been withheld in the form of taxes or something rather—and, with the new burden of having someone around, especially when I wanted to be alone—I felt it relentlessless draining to keep trying to appease the white supremacy—and they had made it more than apparent that they were in control of everything, and especially the more-than-typically programmable black people who ran the homeless system— as disorganized and irritatingly out of whack as you would expect a mostly-black organization to be. I now understood my mother's own aversion to black culture, and was thankful that I hadn't been raised in the ghetto or in any place with a black majority—but now I was getting my fair share of the black world, or “the black lands” as I called them, where the white supremacy had made sure that the systematic oppression was put into and stayed in effect, not any longer governed by whites, but by blacks themselves—they seemed to even take pride in em parting the oppression on one another, which was no less than sickening, but the reality of it.

Luckily, however, at least from what it looked like, the decision to —

I gave up writing mid-thought, abandoning one idea for another—I had so much to do, and had been drained of my energy, especially lately, and whether it had been intentional or not, tt seemed the longer I spent in lower-vibrational environments, the more the pull of the void would set in.

“I miss Equinox.”

But my money, until I returned to the decks, at least—was in short supply—and I was even more offset than I had been before, in returning to work as a DJ, after waking from a dream in which Sonny had said

“Nobody wants to hire you.”

And since then, I had been almost relentlessly discouraged from even trying, though I thought perhaps that since returning to my ex's care, perhaps I was again being haunted by the curse set on my soul—my son, did in fact—have my eyes, and was probably excusaitiny unhappy with his father—but I had chosen to let go, or at least try to, and though I wasn't entirely devoid of love from it all, I remained detached, and focused on becoming someone, anyone else, besides the ex wife of a fat wifebeater—I had no other thoughts of my ex than this, simply “a wifebeater” he was and would remain in the back of my mind, and with every haunting cough and thought, with every energy that seemed demonic enough that it would follow me, I returned his karma. I wanted it gone, but for that to happen it would be more likely that I would have to kill myaelf again—a fate to which every thought brought me closer to at all.

lil biiiiiiiiitzzzz

People are too social.

I mean, I'm wrong to be on the exact opposite of the spectrum, I'll admit, I'm anti social.

“Don't talk to me.”

The devil used to show up every once in awhile to try to discourage me.

He's like

“Nobody wants to be around you.”

I'm like

“Good, then it's working.”

I put that in my vibration.

“Don't come over here.”

“Stay over there.”

“No.”

The devil was like

“Nobody likes you”

I'm like

“Good. I don't like anybody either.”

“Get. The fuck. Away.”

I don't like people.

But especially—

You know what?

I hate Latin men.

They're fucking horrible.

It's a cultural thing.

They call it “machismo”

But I'll tel you what it is.

Is the most selfish thing ever.

I hate it.

They front as so masculine, it actually comes off as femme.

And—

Go ahead, cancel me.

This is something I don't understand about the Latin culture at all:

Why be obnoxious—on purpose?

Like,

Why do you guys laugh like jackals?

“Hehehehehehehehe”

You sound like a pack of retarded hyenas.

It's—

You haven't heard this?

It's an egg aerated, pitched

-up laugh.

It's a fake laugh.

But they do it on purpose.

It's purposely obnoxious!

“Hehehehehehehe!!!!”

What the fuck. Shut up.

The funny thing is, I actually appreciate a lot of the Latin culture. I really do. I love a lot of it.

Believe me. I do.

But not that.

Not that at all.

“Hehehehehehehehe””

WHY.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

To do:

rigorous study of, or great accomplishment within, a particular field; a long track record of competence in a demanding field; an extensive history of dedication and effort in service to a specific discipline (e.g., medicine or law) or a high degree of accomplishment, training or wisdom within a given field; a high degree of physical discipline.

Bruh. The CIA is wilin'

I know, I honest to God love these guys.

What? You think i'm kidding.

Give me something to shut up about

Come fill up my mouth,

Rather than my mind with doubt

Don't wonder about me;

I'd rather have you come out

(I'll be a lady)

It won't be the talk of the town;

In the pillow face down,

So it muffles the sound

How about that

Holy fuck, i'm depressed, man.

YWH.

WHAT.

He's got beautiful eyes.

Oh my God. What a beautiful baby.

Let's just face it: we're gonna have some funny looking kids.

Funny looking kids have higher moral values.

You're not wrong.

So it's true,

What everybody says about you

I hear what they all say

I wanna hear what they all say

You wanna hear what they all say?

So it's true

What everybody says

Says about you

I want your body on my body

I almost never thought of you

I haven't got to wonder longer

I'll drift off to find you

I think

I love you.

( I certainly love you)

“Lover,”

I called her a lover.

The shaman was never a shaman.

The mother was always a mother.

I love you.

Yo,

What's that like?

‘I thought to myself'

I just wanna know.

I wanna know your story

Well, here I go–

It doesn't take long,

You know

Just stick with the program,

Hope some of it sticks at all

Don't let the tears fall out, at all

Don't let the tears out, no

Don't go

It is in a different order;

A whole different story

But it's getting colder

on this whole half of the globe

It doesn't matter to me,

Because it can't

And

It just happens to be because

It is

There's nothing left between us but the wind

There's nothing left between us but the wind

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

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

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

Even when it don't make sense

I'm not a well woman

I'm envious,

Ingenious, even

Same as it always was

Friends with benefits

My name is Sami

If you ask me

I've got business

In Manhattan

Better run along to make it better, now

If I can

another random dance

Another heart attack,

A mild one

It goes on for miles and miles

Why I had my eyes on

I'll never know

It's hard at the front lines,

You're always on camera

I'll never be good enough

I'll never be worth it

Let it happen

Lift the curse up

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

Bury my head in the sand

As if anything was random,

Rather than calculated

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

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

It's all up in flames, now

Don't be mad

It don't matter to me

I don't care about love

About nothing, and nobody

I surely don't care about me

See

It's all up in flames now

And it's kind of unlikely

That I'll see you this time round

But you know where to find me

Or how

I don't let any tears down

The whole two hours

I'm almost proud of it

I don't care who she is

I'd just rather not be reminded

Out of sight

Out of mind

I've been keeping my eye on

But my mind off

Round and round, gone

Like a fire alarm

At least the last time i heard on

Talking in shapes

But i'd rather not talk at all

The whole world is on fire

I hate girls,

Cause i never was one

I only like white light to quench my thirst

It's a fire alarm

And the black smoke

Goes up

Now, i don't smile a lot

But i talk to God

very often, look

It's a game of luck,

And i've lost some

I've lost

All ive got

I got nothing left

Nothing left to want

I just want a friend

or a plug

But i've got to get off some

I bought a rocket to mars once

I've come back, now

Funny story

I was sorry, but

Now i'm more glorified for it

Guess you caught me

What a number huh

I should call it up

A postpartum stutter

Never a woman i was

Or a girl

but a mother of someone

Who might have forgotten

No, I'm never gonna look like that

I'm never gonna be like her

I'm never gonna sound alike

Like a God

I just worship the front lines

Figure it out

I was never enough for no one

Was never a girl

But was somehow, instead

Born a woman and mother

I mortify man

with my body

How grotesque,

To be dead,

It is

How hazardous,

To put this on

It's just a show

It's just a job

Such a number

I should just shut up

I should wash my hands of obsession

But love's just a body

I rather admire it

Have I done enough

Have I done enough yet

I've been out of my body,

But never like this

If you can make me come once

You can make me come twice

Nevermind, nevermind

Of men and mice

I've been counting my options

And rocks

On the wrong ones

It's only a dolomite

I never promised

I wouldn't promise,

If i had promised to

(What. Ever.)

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©