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

Here, they call with disco balls

Stars in my eyes, but stars do fall

First true love dies hard after all,

No star shines bright as morning comes

—(for) Sonny

Five seconds of poop in my ears.

‘Strange'

I had been listening to the same thing nearly every day for months; All of a sudden, it scraped against my senses in the worst way possible;

‘I don't want to hear this.'

–and, I really didn't. For the first time in a very long while, I didn't want to hear deadmau5–worse than that, I didn't like the way it sounded, all of a sudden—-and it was, very sudden, as I had just been listening to it earlier in the night (and earlier through the week, month, year–so on.) It was astonishing to actually have found something I could listen to with infinite replay value; though I'd decidevely been spending my peaceful moments in silence, or as close to silence as I could possibly ever come, deadmau5 was a close second-to-none wash away of whatever I was thinking or feeling, and into a trance-like state of autonomy, without doing much else than moving in any direction or another, monotonously functioning at minimum capacity. Perhaps it wasn't only that I didn't want to hear anything around me, but perhaps also that I didn't want to think or feel much of anything, and somehow his music was good for that.

Over the PA system at work rang a tune I may or may not have heard before, but was yet somehow familiar–perhaps my sudden onset aversion to deadmau5 was programmed for none other than this, either to quickly jot down my experience, or even this–to have finely focused on the song playing over the loudspeakers in that moment, as I often used my headphones to distract from whatever it was that was playing at the gym–more often than not, either way-too-happy or way-too-sad white girls singing about whatever the result of their circumstances were, and not that the rules were any different for the songs played by boys, but it all always did irritatingly remind me of the out-of-placeness I always felt being myself, excluded from being the muse or the ingenue in any musician's world, and yet also typically offset by the crude and off putting hip-hop or rap which was occasionally played, where black or brown girls were on display as artifacts, rather than women–or perhaps, a combination of the two–which my untraditional body typ forbade me from being, and so was bread a distinct jealousy and bitterness stemming from anything which might have been played besides Beyonce, who I ha begun to admire with a shimmering bedazzlement, or anything which might catch my ears production wise–typically Dj/producer's I'd heard of, but sometimes hadn't–and this particular rift, which gripped me in a different type of way than usual, pulling and persuading me to reach for my phone and hurriedly Shazam it, before it changed back into something less attractive.

Low-an behold, it was finally the angel I had asked for long ago, perhaps a stretch or perhaps a sign because I needed it to be– It was Avicii's collaboration with Imagine Dragons, Heart Upon My Sleeves–which I knew nothing about, but pondered whether it was made before, or after his death–I half-smiled, and as I had just so happened to have finished an entry of The Festival Project outlining a shapeshifting competition throughout the inner-and-outer realms, a gentle nudge to keep moving forward, whether coincidence or not–the next person to walk through the door just so happened to look enough like Tim to force a begrudging nod to my own imagination's power, and whether or not it meant anything in that moment, I knew that my plea into the cosmic heavens to help me make sense of the massive and altogether unprintable, vastly chaotic and seemingly organizable Festival Project as a whole was somehow being answered–somehow, but I knew neither the some or the how, and rather effectively hated the entirety of my existence, which was just to work and workout with no one and nothing of my own as of yet to make anything worth it, in the name of love or otherwise.

The title of itself was reminiscent of the tattoo I still owed myself, for one reason or another, but the biggest reason being something about it was crystalized into my being as was the stone I had forgotten to carry on this very night; It hadn't mattered much in awhile–I didn't need any totems to be constantly reminded of Dillon Francis, or of anyone or anything I loved for that matter– it was a a serious enough affliction that it ad at least crossed the barrier between obsession and into a mere infatuation, though listening to any of his music was out of the question, just as it was so to attend any of his appearances. Gazing into the depths of my Google Documents, however, it was duly noted that he had somehow weaseled his way into my infinite creativity, forever immortalized in the very least sense as a character to the never-ending Saga which was The Festival Project–still, something lurking deep within me glossed and glamored on finding a suitable distraction from having to involuntarily fall prey to my own fantasies, and victim to my own hormones rushing towards peak-fertility and growing in my celibacy and abstinence, ever more painful with each passing day. Without being too attached to the idea of attachment itself, I was on the prowl for anything that was anything, without having to use Tinder as a disastrous medium; I wanted a real-life person, to meet in real-life and have real-sex with–knowing that as soon as I did have a distraction, these lucid fantasies and sexual obsessions would fade away into a laughable, delusional afterthought.

My baby fever could easily be traded for a passable career in entertainment, working hard enough at anything that I loved that it would seem silly to reproduce in the midsts of any of it–it was a raw and solid fact that the life I truly craved was one that Dillon Francis and any of his romanticized counterparts had already lived, besides what I was sure was a million-mile long list of women in every city on every continent imaginable; I knew by this point in my life, that I would always be startlingly monogamous and prone to falling in love with love itself, wanting really just to be best friends with benefits which would solidify the foundation for a perfect marriage, however–the entertainment industry lifestyle provided endless opportunities for polyamoury and experimentation, none of which I felt like I really wanted, but also hadn't had the chance to experience–while a closed-marriage with children seemed like a priority, I had always been less than ideally attractive, and poor to boot–were I to reach into the realms of actual success and wealth, would I be as unmovable a force as I felt I was? I thought so, but I thought too much– and therefore the infinite fabric of the world I was constantly building up and breaking down around me was just-so crucially-that–infinite–as were any other creative divinity's exploration through time and space that I knew of, and therefore I carefully abandoned the notion of being anybody's ‘One', r my awful ex, who I considerably might end up back with, once whatever dumb girls he was preoccupying time with got the same lesson I had. And while I prayed to find a love as deep and as pure like that as it had been in the beginning, I knew to a certain extent that after all was said and done, it couldn't exist. I was too old, too grown, too broken to believe in fairytales, even if I was living and writing in one–I had to separate myself from the protagonist princess, just as I finally had separated Dillon Francis and Sonny Moore from their respective anti-hero Kings.

He's a beautiful person

(That doesn't exist)

You see:

It erases the picture

All by itself

An etch e sketch

Kalideacope

Ant farm disaster—

If this is what you're after,

Call back next Saturday,

(Or ever after)

After I've said enough

After supper,

After the weather passes,

After the sabbath,

After never collapses,

After an autograph,

I swear to laugh,

I laugh just to forget I ever practiced math,

Or magic,

Never purchased meth for mattresses,

Remember what a pastor is,

But not the taste of

Grass fed—

Brass candle lit dinners or

Tin roofs and Tinder

Or dinosaurs,

Gore at the core,

It's no wonder you're broke

And so miserable

Ah, look; I broke it

Remember the world that you're on;

It revolves all on nothing,

Removing an uncle from cousins or

Curse marks on eyelids or,

Wonder what Billie Ellish did to deserve it ,

Or is it just the white supremacists lasts hurrah,

What a bargain:

The world all at war over dollars and water

I stopped at Applebees frozen and wondered

“How long has it been since this all fell apart?”

After PETRUTHEIO kills FARRO during the triad lover's quarrel, ending its swift and unpredictable categorization as a briefly onceprofezied courtiers quartetC'EET Iin a fit of forceful grief and rage unleashes an undiscovered trasnformation into an omniscient and devastating diety—a Goddorce which unearths the deadly forces of C'esme't's true powers, overruling the ascended mastery and dividing the kingdom of ascensicia from the higher realms of truth and knowledge; the divides the resulting underworlds into The Upper Realms, The Lower Realms, and the outer realms—casting the inhabitants of the kingdom into unknown and unseen dimensions of darkness, and defending the world into chaos; she Binds Gían and Petruthieo together to suffer the tragedy heartbreak and pain of her existence together, before banishing them respectively to the upper and lower realms, then vanishing without a trace into the unknown;

Unbeknownst to the now defended and divided kingdoms, now on the brink of destruction war, famine, and chaos—she journeys into unknown realms in search of Farro, his last words having professed his true and pure love for C'esme't which would allow him to rest peacefully; however, betrayed and deceived by both Petrutheio and Gían, pursues Farro to create and build a new world from their once deeply hidden and newly discovered passionate love for one another.

Woah.

Yeah, I know.

This is what you get writing deadmau5.

I get a lot writing deadmau5;

But this was deadmau5, 4 days with no sleep, 6 hours a day at the gym and roughly 1000MG of caffeine in a 24 hour period.

Trademark.

You doing ok?

NoX.

SometimesC, things get complicated.

Is the C silent in Skrillex?

that was deadmau5.

Is that a language, too?

010000100001000010001

No, I'm just fucking tired.

Where's Dillon Francis?

I—uh—

DILLON FRANCIS IS TRAPPED INSIDE OF A GIANT DISCO BALL.

I nearly forgot about the disco ball piñata.

Was it a piñata?

GERALD

WHOSE THE PIÑATA NOW, BITCH?!

Gerald is the masked banana?!

Idk anymore, I want a houseX.

HOMELESS, USA.

Is this hell?

YesZ.

What did I do?!

You're just—shittyZ

OhZ

And nobody loves youS

Ok.

SOS

911! EMERGENCY.

Shit, is Skrillex ok?

What's that look on his face?

[skrillex]

Oh no.

Hm.

Something is Wong.

Mmm

Sweet tangerine citrus

Cherry mist twist in

He said,

“I'm just a man”

But you're a god, from where I stand

You're. God, from where I'd standing

You're a god, from where I am

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.

“White people suck!”

This is a self-stated fact.

White people are the only ones going around saying that shit.

I mean, everyone else thinks it, it's true. Lots of people say it—just in other ways. Not exactly like that.

“White people suck!” White people say this about themselves, as if they're not getting a little bit of fucking sociopathic joy out of it.

I lived with a white a supremacist that may or may not have known he was a white supremacist.

*may or may not have*

He would say shit bordering on the brink of slight psychological torture.

He'd say shit like

“WE made OURSELVES the TOP RACE”

Like, the fact that you're using words like ‘we' and ‘ourselves' indicate that YOU believe yourself to be a member of the so-said “top race”

Not true. White people are not the top race. There are more retarded white people in the world than any other races.

White people have been historically racist to the point that they fucked up their own gene pool imbreeding. Like: yes. They have held a majority of the money ans power on this planet for long enough that the entire world is programmed to think blue eyes are prettier—

People with blue eyes have easier lives, period. Period.

They get away with so much shit.

This is a result of white dominance. It's true.

But this guy. Lol.

This guy would say things like

“WE made ourselves the TOP RACE”

And then further contradict himself by saying things like,

“I don't believe in race”

He was a narcissist.

Yeah.

Only thing worse than a narcissist? A white supremacy narcissist who doesn't know or understand he's either of those things.

FUCK.

I took him to my gym—but only because he let me stay in his spare bedroom for $11. Flex.

More on that later.

I personally think it's because he was a white supremacist trying to physiologically terrorize me by continually bringing up the effects of white power on my entire existence—

BUT.

He would say the most ignorant shit, that wasn't entirely ignorant—like he made decent and factual points, it was just ignorant that he was talking about it at all. To me. A homeless, black woman.

It was like he was rubbing it in my face.

For ten days he pretty much just came up with extremely inventive ways to approach me and be like

“I'M WHITE AND YOURE BLACK AND MY LIFE IS AWESOME AND YOUR LIFE SUCKS BECAUSE I'M A WHITE MAN, AND YOU'RE A BLACK WOMAN!!!!l”

I'm like, dude…shut up.

“WHITE PEOPLE SUCK!”

Okay. You're egging on a race war. I still don't hate white people. At this point I just see they're typically power tripping sadists. It's okay.

Like everything he said or brought up apparently to try to make me feel better—actually made me feel WORSE to the point where I decided he was doing this on purpose.

I'm like,

This is the new white power movent:

We make a majority of them homeless, lure them into our domiciles, and then remind them that hey don't have domiciles. Because of us. Pretend to feel sorry about it, mentally torture and disable them, and then send them back into the streets to squabble and kill each other!

Perfect.

But no, they are not the “top race”

There are more retarded white people than anyone else—

We even had one as President for 8 years!

I'm just kidding.

No, I'm not.

I don't hate trump.

He's just mentally disabled, being politically correct.

I don't hate him! He's hilarious!

When he's not directly effecting my existence—

Hes funny.

But: a perfect example of what the Caucasian's have done to themselves. And the fact that it doesn't matter, because when you have millions of dollars, you can be a literal retard, and rule the world!

Wow!

No, it's okay. I'm not racist.

I went from his place—directly to a homeless shelter, where 99% of women there were black.

I learned to love-hate everybody equally.

Black people love to talk on the fuckin phone.

So come lights out, everybody's on the fuckin phone, I'm like,

SHUT THE FUCK UP.

Everybody's on the phone.

I'm like

“Bro, if you actually have all these people to talk to, you should have somewhere to stay other than this dump.”

I'm like,

“I'm obviously here cause I'm a piece of shit and nobody loves me—

You're on the phone from 11 PM till forever and you can't just go to their house and sleep there?! No! Then get off the phone cause that person ain't SHIT!”

They ain't shit.

But dudes are next level psycopaths. All of them.

Staying at a women's shelter was eye opening. I would overhear conversations like,

“BUT I LOVE YOUuuuuUu”

Dudes be fucking chicks up in the head. All the way up.

BITCH you're in a HOMELESS SHELTER. If he lets you sleep in this bitch even for 5 seconds he ain't SHIT.

Get off the PHONE.

Black people—or really—poor people, they love to talk on the phone. I don't know. I don't get it. I realized at a certain point i talked too much, and I was spending all my talking time talking to toxic people. So I stopped. Kind of.

I talk to myself on my podcasts. Still can't decide if that's toxic or just what god wants so—

I mean the downloads keep going up. Whatever. I should have a house.

Dudes be having females out here homeless, worried about THEM. Woaaaahhhh.

Anyway.

But I realized: people love to talk on the phone. On the bus. At the gym. Wherever. Just

“Talk talk talk/- Yap yap yap” about the dumbest shit.

I realized how non bianary I am because females talk about the dumbest fucking shit.

All dudes talk about is females so -

I'm jaded at this point. Inequality is balls.

This is how I learned the meaning of “no justice no peace”

Like, the perpetual race war in this country has just created this division and unrest and it so fucking chaotic—

But it's not just a race war. Dudes are fucking sick, intolerant. Greedy, destructive creatures. It's MAN WORLD so if you have a tiny dick or are an ugly female—you live at the bottom of the world.

SUCKS TO SUUUUUUCK.

“No justice, no peace”

Colored people love to be loud—they've spent so much time being oppressed, it's apart of the culture to be like,

“FUCK YOU, I'M HERE! WHAT YOU GONNA DO ABOUT IT?!”

I'm like,

I get it. This is the definition of “disturbing the peace”

After a week of this ridiculousness,

I'm like, hey, maybe they're not racist: they just want you to be quiet.

Lol that's not funny.

They're like,

“Ugh, this guy's breaking the law, he's disturbing the peace”

The other cops like,

“Just shoot him; if we arrest him he won't shut up”

Lol that's terrible.

Whatever. Colored people have been so neglected and oppressed now they kill each other.

Whatever. There's no color to that shit. It's just men. Men are killers.

But of course—I'm torn. I love babies—the only way you're gonna get one of them is to love a man—and once he impregnates you he can do whatever else to you he wants. He owns you after that. And you're just—tied to him. Destructive.

Honestly, though—the difference between a good man and a bad man, or even a good woman and a bad woman—is a good mother. You have to have that.

So I fucked up. I'm a whole trash can.

But now I love/hate everybody equally. Everybody's fucked up. I hate myself the most.

What! I'm homeless!

That makes me a piece of shit! I'm shitty.

And I get it.

It's cultural oppression.

This culture has been bred on slavery and neglect and oppression and so now you have to act out and be loud and ridiculous and rowdy. Okay.

I get it.

I do.

But at this point, I'm like

“This is the apocalypse, I'm ready for the world to end.”

I don't give a fuck about whose black whose white what's right what's wrong,

I'm like,

“Nobody pays enough money for me to be miserable for 8-16 hours a day, I don't have a place to sleep or a friend in the world, just end it already, God, “

“Just fucking blow it all up. “

I'm ready for a nuclear fuckin war.

“Drop that nuke directly on my face.”

I want to be ground zero.

Fuck this whole place. Fuck this existence. I'm over it.

I don't care about anything.

My basic needs aren't being met and I'm over it.

I don't even have a fucking HOME.

You need a home just to have a BODY.

The only shit you do In your house is because you have to take care of your BODY for it to work.

You have to shower. You have to eat. You have to sleep,

These are not recommendations!!

These are requirements,

Once I realized that a great enough evil existed in the world to allow this to happen—

I got over it.

I'm like “fuck this race war”

Where's the real one?! Drop some bombs in this bitch.

Humans are fucked up.

Black. White. Everybody in between.

Everybody's fucked up, yo.

Greed fucked up humanity. All of it.

—but I spent some time in this women's shelter and I sterted to realize: maybe it's just because it's a man's world.

Half these femakes are in here talking about being hung up on niggas—

NIGGAS.

And they're in a homeless shelter.

I had been celibate for quite some time at this point; but it seemed like every goddess I met in this place was broken—and that brokenness came from the sacrifice of loving men, and having children.

Men are fucked up!

Needy, greedy, selfish motherfuckers.

I'm not saying there aren't any good ones—

There are.

They're just married.

I respect marriage so much.

I respect marriage so much— to the point where, I ended mine, when I realized

“This is not how marriage is supposed to be.”

It's fucked up.

The good ones are taken, usually.

And the sad thing is,

Sometimes people stay in toxic relationships long enough that they become toxic.

That happened to me.

I stayed with the wrong person just long enough to realize, like,

“Great, now I'm shitty, too—you motherfucker”

FUCK YOU MOTHERFUCKER.

I would rather slit my wrists up and down than ever go back to my ex.

Yep.

I've committed suicide 27 times since I left my marriage.

You know what the first successful suicide attempt was, though?

My fucking marriage.

UGH.

FUCK THESE NIGGAS.

They'll have you fucked up.

They'll have you homeless.

They don't care! They have dicks! They can just fuck you up—then walk away, and fuck somebody else up.

And the thing is: there's always some dumb, useless 18 year old somewhere that's gonna think he's GOD.

She's useless—except in ONE WAY. To him.

Then when he's done with her?

Yep. Trash pile.

Fuck these dudes.

So I'm in this women's shelter, where of course, as if I need more of a reminder that most men ain't shit

*most, not all.

Done offend men. They'll kill you.

They'll worse than kill you.

They'll knock you up; ruin your body; cheat on you—they'll fuck you up—

Then kill you.

So I'm in this shelter, and after the first night, they're like “okay, you have to have a physical, then a psyche assessment, then you'll get a permanent housing assignment”

I'm like “okay”

So I get my appointment, and I look at it, and the appointment for the psychiatric evaluation is like 10 days away—

I'm like,

“Wait a minute:

So you're going to make me wait 10 days in a dirty, chaotic, gross fucking nasty place—10 sleepless nights surrounded by hood rats and garbage all over the place and shitty toilets, where it's freezing fucking cold and even the cops and the staff are fighting all the time—THEN you're going to give me a psyche evaluation?”

“Yeah”

Fuck the system.

I'm just jaded.

I love/hate everything and everyone the same.

You know why?

Cause it's the same fucking emotion.

They're not opposites.

They're just opposite ends of the same spectrum of the same exact emotion.

Passion.

Passionate fury

Passionate love

Passionate rage.

All really the same thing.

The opposite of love isn't hate.

The opposite of love is fear.

Weekend on a Tuesday

R3HQB & Laidback Luke

Love, much like death

Is just an illusion

another contusion, confusion

I'm a loose fuse confusious

Lucius, Lucifer loosens

Two tooth's,

apathetic:

I'm so pathetic,

No sympathy for the devil

No empathy for the dead

SUPACREE//Chak Chel is grocery shopping at stop n shop

Why stop n shop

CAUSE THERES NO WHOLE FOODS IN THE HOOD.

Racist ass motherfuckers.

Supacree.

No, Dude. No.

Okay! Chak Chel!

Mm. -_-

I need to talk to you.

Please. Step away.

Wait!

M—no.

[she moves to the left—he moves to the left—she moves the right right—he moves the the right.]

*sighs*

[she removes a stone from her pouch, and throws it on the ground: it opens up into a black hole like vortex.]

Where does that go.

I don't know.

*she gestures, waving her hand in front of the hole*

Uhh—

She stares into his eyes and steps into the portal, which swallows her into a void.

Oh, my God!

He stares off into the distance worriedly—

Seconds later, just outside the storefront, a portal opens—supacree/CC is set gently at the bus stop; DILLON FRANCIS, still inside the store, stares at her out the window, flabbergasted as she boards the bus, staring back at him through the window. The bus drives away.

Why Dillon Francis

Idk

I died and went to hell and back

and back to hell again

An irrelevant disheveled devil drinking a rebbl in the back of the bus

Full of disgust, looking busted and fucked up

I'm stuck in a nightmare,

I can't wake up

Where's Shia laboeoff?

It's wild and rough

Inspired enough

By being in lust

Pretending it's love

But it's nothing

Jimmy Fallon

FLASHBACK : season 4

ANANDAR has an interesting medallion.

one time I fucked this dude cause he looked just like Skrillex; like that wasn't somehow gonna be a disaster. I mean, my life was already 100% crap—I thought:

Couldn't really be much worse.

Might as well fuck this dude:

Not like I could ever get the real thing.

Turns out I was wrong twice.

FLASHBACK: season 6

SKRILLEX is obsessed with SUPACREE.

Huh.

Oh wow, yeah.

Yeah.

So what does Dillon Francis want out of this?

Figure it out!

Uhhh!!

What about deadmau5?

JOEL ZIMMERMAN

I want nothing to do with this

DEADMAU5

…are you sure.

JOEL

Yes.

KASKADE enters swiftly.

JOEL

Ugh, this dude

DEADMAU5

WHAT UP, HOMIE.

KASKADE

WHAT IS UP.

JOEL

Ugh.

RYAN GARY RADDON enters, nonchalantly.

RYAN

…am I late?

JOEL

You made it!

RYAN

Well, I promised.

DEADMAU5

You are late.

KASKADE

Ugh, this dude.

RYAN

Nobody likes you.

DEADMAU5

Say that to my face.

RYAN

Where is it.

KASKADE

Ooh. Burn.

JOEL

Oh-Kay. Let's go.

Lol. Where are these dudes going.

I guess we'll see.

PASQUALE.

Ahem.

PASQUALE—

Yes?

What are you doing?

Working on something.

Working on what.

Something.

PASQUALE

WHAT.

GET IN HERE.

Fine,

I don't have eyes—

I super sauna

Flora-Fauna

Outer space

And out of stardust

Superstardom

Flawed,

But by design,

Align with all of ‘em

Fine,

I really don't find you

Kind of attractive

Damn, I'm damaged

Do you mind

Or do you plan on dying anytime

Fine

I can't be white,

But can be tiny,

That way, finally,

When I'm someone's wife;

I'm the right weight and height for them to like me

Enough that they might—

I mean just might

Not cheat.

Horrible.

All I want is your attention—

A ten

A ten-tension

I wnant your attention

A ten

A ten-tension

Locker number 87 was taken and though it hadn't immediately bothered me in the same way that it had a few days before, the unsettling feeling in the moments following at least prompted me to write something down. It did bother me to think of him with anyone else—and even sensing it or seeing it had set me off in a way I could neither explain nor describe, first sending me into a whirlwind which culminated in meeting Anandar, and secondly tailspinning me into a fit of fury —and while I still loved Sonny, there was something I felt for Dillon I couldn't entirely explain, and while the world was suddenly full of beautiful people—beautiful white people, to be exacta, I realized I didn't want nor was I truly fit for any of them anyway, not that something like that mattered in my time of desperate need and desperation, unable to accumulate the focus or energy I needed to move up and out from this trench I was in, whatever it meant besides falling prey to the grueling captapilism on which the country I was raised to love was built, without it benefitting me in any way besides aesthetic.

GODDAMMIT, DILLON FRANCISz

WHAT THE FUCK DID I DO—

Yeah, that's right—

I'm gonna throw up.

Don't throw up in my house.

GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!

THIS IS MY HOUSE—

YOU DONT HAVE A HOUSE, BITCH—

Aw, shit, it's on.

KAAAAAHHHHMEEEEE—

Is this dragon ball Z?

No, it's

FUCK YOU, YOU RUINED EVERYTHING

If I hear Renaissance one more time,

I might just—

I might just

You're right

It's white power, it's alt right,

I can't fight it

It's alright

It's just another night

In the heights

In the no flight list

I'm on hiatus,

I'm high, thanks plankton

I'm pinapple, might just wine

Or whinehouse,

If I had my own house, despite this

Whatever

This records all hype,

Supply and Demand

I'm a Diamond

For your demon

Indegenous genetics yet

I'm homeless, on stolen land

I'm hopeless, once again

I stole this l, I am Sam

I'm alone in this—

Here's your quest for fire, ya dumbass,

It's bombastic, I'm so past it

Just wanna throw a bomb at it;

Used to cetalogue albums

Bow I'm analog, all bad,

I'm so mad

I wanna take it all back

Like all that

This is Allllllll, that this is—

Is she coming back?

Maybe.

MAYBE?!

Look, just give me my 10 bands, bro.

10 bands?!

‘Ukrainian Ballerina Finds Solace In Dancing.'

Oh man, they hate us

Why God, do they hate us

Light skinned ballerinas—

Life is what you make it

Raise up from this hatred

Make my grave

With raising canes and gravy

Make the best of what you gave me

Questions in my mind arising

Or are rasing

I'm erasing pain but gazing at the TV

thinking

God,

Why do they hate us

Why do they hate us?

USA

Why do they hate us

Why

Why why

Why do they hate us

A master hypnotist;

Why waste a wish on this—

The fog, or mist obscured my vision

Interest in

THIS DOESNT MAKE ANY SENSE.

Now, wake up.

OH MY GOD.

What do you want?

I want to wake up from this nightmare,

I want to be white, with blue eyes and long blonde hair

I want to go to Long Island on the ferry,

I want to be there,

But clearly,

I'm here, and I'm sorry

But I'm growing wary

That God's even aware of me

I hate this.

Oh shit.

What, man.

I just realized— we're all gonna get really old.

Maybe…

—or we're gonna die.

Yeah, that's why I said “maybe”

That's fucking terrifying.

Dude, you're like 40–how are you just coming to grips with your mortality?

…I don't know.

*hits bong worriedly*

I'M GONNA BE ALONE FOREVER.

I'M GONNA BE ALONE FOREVER!!!

Damn, Drake Bell;

I didn't really think this would carry over into the 7th season, but—I gotta hand it to you;

You stay fucking up.

Dammit.

What.

I fucked up.

You just stay fucking up

And I stay fucking up

And I say I'm over it,

But I'm a stray puppy;

A squirrel that's in search of a nut

And you are what you eat

So I guess I'm a butt

Or bananas

I'be had it

I almost miss my hammock

I take that back

I ________ Manhattan

Hey, you gotta stay stateside.

What. For what.

NEWS: WORLD WAR III

Ah, fucking shit.

So, what am I supposed to do for mon—

MILITARY:

Get over here—

No.

Look, it's SkrillexZ.

No.

How about—

No.

Believe it or not,

I want what you want, m

I love what you love,

and then some;

Gone for a walk in the park,

With my heart in my pocket,

I hope she shows up soon

I hope that she's all that you've always wanted

Since I'm not,

And when I'm gone

My songs remind you of what

Love was,

The love that I had,

And the love that I loved just to love

And the love that I wrote in the songs that

You offered

I hope she shows up

And she's all that you wanted;

I want what you want,

And I love what you love,

I promise l

I hope she shows up soon

She's all that you wanted;

I wanted to love you,

But want what you want, hun

I promise;

I'm just coming off a long one

I love you for the long haul,

And then some

//

I keep on forgetting

That I'm not that pretty to,

Or around you

So I'll just—

Do what I do,

And move into the room

Where my room meets you,

In the vacuum of time and—

Collisions, and splinters

Unseasonable winters and

Missed kindergarten graduations,

I'm assuming at least

I can't move,

Or can't focus,

Can't write many words,

Or recite all my poems

There's just not enough time left

That I have

Imm mindless

I might have to find

A flight

To the homeland, and

I don't want to fight, in this war

I was drafted;

I wrote that before,

Now I'm captain

Disasterous…

Has it begun yet?

It hasn't been fun yet,

Just tragic

I haven't forggtten the traffic

I still have the hat.

I just might not be black

But I'm back on the blacklist , I guess

Sending signals, distress

Matching sigmas,

And sigils,

Invested in candle light vigils

Twisted like pretzels;

The rest of the West is in shambles

And I'm steady rambling,

Scrambling

What's the preamble, pastor?

Last again firstly,

And first again last;

How's that feel?

How's dinner after a hot meal,

2 days of cornmeal,

I'm horny,

But still won't eat honey

All out of money l l

Submitting to your said supremacy

This, I'll remember—

It's cinders and embers and ashes l

The fire you search for

Went out in the rain that I called for

The dance that I managed to salvage

From out of the past,

Like the misters and masters

I asked for the land that I am back

And we're all just grains of sand

And we're all just grains of sand

And we're all just grains of sand

I should want for nothing,

But I find you at the forefront,

Sniffing cocaine

Yelling my name

In the most profane way

Ah, down the alley, she goes

But—

WHY ARE WE RUNNING

YOU DID THIS, TIMMY, DON'T ASK ME STUPID QUESTIONS

WHY DO YOU KEEP CALLING ME TIMMY

CAUSE YOU'RE TIMMY, SHUTTHEFUCKUP!

I'm losing control, now

I can't get out of it

Or into it

I'm on a roll now;

The role of my life,

It turns out,

Was just my life

Now I'm lifeless inside

“Yeah right”

*sigh*

“Like anybody loves me”

*crying*

“Like anybody likes me”

Yeah, that's right

Just lay down and die;

Lay down in the street like a dog,

“If you like”

Attack on my psyche

The love of my life was just like me

He might be

Are we even?

What do you believe in?

A seething scar on my iris.

Dine in and drive ins.

I'm meant to die now, that was my life, it seems;

It's over for me,

The American dream turned nightmare;

I haven't seen this stream,

I should lie here,

I haven't been myself in a while,

I'm liable to set the whole ass world on fire—

Like I'm on a fire escape,

Trying to tape my mistake

At the brokenshaker;

Makes sense in LA,

But it's just another day here

How's the weather?

It's awful

That's what I heard at the office tomorrow,

I'll probably drown in my sorrows,

A crown on and borrowed objects

In my honor,

No, dont't stop here

This is bat country

Now some Sunni blū shit

Or SUPACREE, whoever she is:

Nonexistent.

Here's a spaghetti and shit sandwhich,

Dillon Francis,

I believe in magic,

I swear, I just can't stand it

I hate this planet;

Might be nice if I could manage to—

goddamnit.

Captain.

Where's she at?

Off the map…

There is no “off the map”

Off the grid.

Well, there's that.

THE LEGEND OF SUPACREE

We've been collecting data about this woman for a number of years.

It's a woman?

CUT TO:

SUNNÏ BLŪ is not a woman.

*gross stupid rapper shit*

Very much so.

Senator, a word.

How many words?

At least three.

Why is it always three?

MEANWHILE

*in a deep meditative state VIA DILLON FRANCIS*

*no, it's Hanzel*

Shutthefuckup.

Listen.

This is a lot.

Breathe.

[stops breathing]

I've got burning questions.

That's just syphilis.

I—

It only stings a little;

It only burns a lot—

You were my love, I thought

Lost, lost, at once

But here you are,

And not often have I wanted

To imagine you a star

Another catharsis

Another conundrum

The world is at war,

And the source that we come from,

Abolished,

So long lost and gone from our thoughts

Now,

Think fondly of lust,

As she fondled the heart that she clutches

From dawn until dusk,

After sunset,

Once buried but polished, recovered

And thought of more often,

Than spawned in the rust of the under and all of the marvelous—

What was it?

What?

“The Jimmy Fallon Conspiracy”

That is a good band name!

What was the other one?

“Bad with Matches”

I like that.

There was one more…

Uh…

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.

THE LEGEND OF SUPACREE: VIDEO GAME

>>Trashcan

Dumpster

Hobo

Scavenger

Peasant

Slave

Influencer

Investor

Entertainer

>>>

Employer (Slave Owner w/ 10+ Employees)

Landlord

CFO

CEO

Ambassador

Diety

Fallen

Descendant

???

Ascended

Magician

Alchemist

Creator

Genius

God

To start the game, you must die.

There are several various ways to enter “DEATH” upon starting the game; Each death will result in a separate possibility and ability to affect the outcome and mode of the game.

Accidental Death will result in lowest ability gained

Homocide Results in medium-level power upgrade/ability

Suicide and mode of suicide will result in highest award of capabilities to begin the game

Pick Up Items for RP, XP & Bonuses; Items like supplies, clothing, or other necessary items will provide player “PP” or Personality Points; Other items such as gems, crystals, stickers, may be collected as trophies, or used as currency and/or grant KP, or Karma Points; Items such as Vintage Furniture or Records, Artifacts, Art, Vinyl Records, Hats, Sunglasses, or Rare Pants/T-Shirts will gain Player additional points towards leveling toward ascension status

Collect songs— pair them by ear (by key or beat matching for extra points — remix, cover, remaster, or sample tracks for extra RP, XP, EP, PP, and LP.

Create Original Songs and content to open portals,

Music + Time + Travel Forward/Backward by learning to use magical elements to manipulate musical energy

Earn Star Power by completing missions in Hollywood Area of Map

Gather Tools & Needed Supplies around map

Increase Fitness, Stamina, Charisma by becoming more attractive; Running, Gym Routines, Dancing, Marshal Arts, and Surfing (after West Side of Map Opens)

Rave Weapons

Rave Weapons are earned through completing various missions, series of mini games, tasks, and treasure hunts within the map as it becomes available to the player. Once Instant Manifestation has been acquired, the player must use The Mastery of Cosmic Alchemy to level up each individual rave weapon.

Synesthetic Telekinesis

Energy Manipulation

Time Weaving// Time Traveling// Time Bending

Multidimensional Vision

“dreamgirl”

A surreal and daunting recurring dream becomes a living nightmare scenario, when the mysterious woman from his dream world turns up in his waking life.

After a chaotic merry-go-round of “coincidences” in which the man continues to run into the woman from his dreams throughout his day to to day activities,

I'm just--

Trapped in this body

A nobody

In-N-Out,

Out of Body,
But I already forgot about it

I already forgot about it;

I'm Just--

Punching the clock,

Might purchase a glock,

Just to pick myself off;

I think about it often-

Every time I take my bra off;

Caught,

Two toddler brawlin,

Saw the whole future this morning

Through two brown eyes,

And about 5 white liars,

conspiring to kill me

I'm

Nobody, in a bathing suit

Under a 4/3/2

4-3-2-1

Here comes the train,

Jump on:

and,

Jump off,

When you start going fast enough to jump

And fall right to sleep

I'm just--

Another slave, in a bathing suit;

Jesus saves,

But he's being a crazy lady

Lazy Suzi, (or, Sami, actually)

Sits, but not peacefully

She's living my dream, yeah

Somebody's dream girl, and i'm just

Barely Alive,

Barely Breathing,

Barely Human,

Maybe,

Not even

Barely Alive,

Barely Breathing,

Barely Human,

Maybe,

Not even

No, i'm not the same

All I got from my mom was

My name,

All My shame,

And the need to be famous

I'm just,

Wasting my time,

Being a slave,

Cause I don't get paid to write

I'm not black,

I'm not white,

I'm not gray,

but hey

“Hey!”

Thank you for saving me

I might survive.

Got a couple more good years left in your baby

Couple more good years, playing the field

Got a couple good years left, for the best

Get the cream of the crop, baby,

‘Fore you get here;

You'll never need, no,

Never need a girl like me, no

You're looking for a queen,

Between you and me; I see it

Do your thing,

Do your thing--

I'll always be watching,

But now I'm not hungry,

You're a fiend

Believe me,

It's easy;

I know what you need

My eyes are progressing to brown.

Up from green, ‘cause

I see you,

(I see you, I see you)

You don't need me,

But I need you;

I see you

(I see you, I see you)

So,

Do your thing

Do your thing

Do your thing

If that's what you need

‘Cause, that's what you need

Find you a Queen;

Be a King

I believe it,

I see.

I'll just be here -

Whenever, you never

I don't do enough

I don't care enough

I don't know enough

I don't really care

I don't see enough
I don't dream enough

I'll never be enough

I'm not really there

Are you with me?

Are you with me?

Are you in it?

Are you in (it)?

Do you miss me?

Do you miss me?

Never been it

(Never been it)

But, now it's like

Tag: You're it

(youre it)

You're it

(You're it)

You're it

(you're it)

Never been it

(Never been it)

Then, I got hit:

“Ow!”

Now it's like

Tag: you're it
(Youre it)

You're it

(You're it)

(You're it)

Never been it,

But then, I got hit

Now i'm it

Are you with me?

Are you with me?

Are you in it?

Are you in (it)?

I don't do enough

I don't care enough

I don't know enough

I don't really care

I don't see enough
I don't dream enough

I'll never be enough

I'm not really there

You see, my dear;

Love Left,

And Love Lied

And Love Lived,

And Love Died,

And Love,

Time after time,

Love stood by,

And Stood By

Love is, and

Love was,

And Love wil be,

All of us,

When all of us are One,

Once One becomes None,

It is said,

It is done.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.

WELCOME TO:

THE DILLOn FRANCIS EMPORIUM OF STUFF AND THINGS

ohh, what's in here?

Just remember, Sonny,

You were first

You were my first

Just remember

If I'm sorry,

You'd be sorry first

So just remember, Sonny

Just remember Sonny

I fell in love with ya;

Now I'll always be in love with ya

I'll always be in love with ya

Ya,

I like it rough enough

Until it hurts

Until it hurts

Huh

Ya

I like it rough enough

Enough until it hurts

I like it rough enough

I Kike it rough enough

It hurts

Just remember you weee first

Just remember, you were first

God,

The curves of a woman

(a woman)

The curse of giving birth

Then being worthless

Life is rough

I like it rough, until it hurts

Stupid stuff until it's all done

Till it's numb,

It doesn't hurt no more

I wish I was your girl;

But I don't wanna be a girl no more

Woah

Ya,

I like it rough enough

Until it hurts

Until it hurts

Huh

Ya

I like it rough enough

Enough until it hurts

I like it rough enough

I like it rough enough

It hurts

Just remember you weee first

Just remember, you were first

What should I feed the trolls today?

Deadmau5.

I said the trolls, not the snakes.

I'll give you a snake…

Ah, finally.

What.

The season of dick jokes is upon us.

This is not a joke.

What's not a joke.

M A S S S I V E

Do you ever stop to think “I'm being a dick.”?

No.

Oh really.

Sometimes I pause momentarily to laugh and state aloud, “i'm being a dick!”

{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.

{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.

{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.