The invisible man, in Manhattan
The sunglasses matches her madness
The cloud cover looks just like Texas
All ya'll are all worth bout a dollar;
I am a cyclone, watch me holler
I lived my whole life underwater
All ya'll are only bout a dollar
I work so hard, I guess for nothin
I am not worried bout a dollar
I guess I'll do it on my own (Jimmy Fallon, Jimmy Fallon)
I had to do it all alone (Jimmy Fallon, Jimmy Fallon
I made some soup, all out of stones (I don't know, You do not know)
I am not worried bout the sauce
I am so famous, (I'm the boss)
Opened a business, got a loan
I got a hundred of them passwords
(Jimmy Fallon, Jimmy Fallon)
Went to Manhattan, took a walk
Went to the rock and dropped a rock
Now put your money where your mouth is
I got a thousand Jimmy Fallons
I dropped a rock into the rock
I'm the host, I'm Jimmy Fallon.
Moderately famous household television Jimmy Fallon suddenly begins appearing everywhere—that is—
on every possible TV screen imaginable—
The Protagonist, in confusion, can't seem to escape, and also amusingly begins finding Pennies in very strange and seemingly random places—
these Pennies then begin opening up portals, breaking the fourth wall and opening worlds to other dimensions—
“Two dumb Jews”, starring Seth Rogen, and some other dude—
—some Jew, but it's got Adam Sandler in it.
I'd watch the shit out of that, though, tbh.
[Two Jewish musicians struggling to make it in new York's congested underground music scene hit it off in comedy by complete accident, after being booked as a duo for a comedy club they mistook for a bar.]
Heh. Okay, who does Adam Sandler play?
What. Who the fuck is “the book keeper?”
It's like two broke girls, but actually funny.
Now our musical guests, SWAGGARBOMB.
What in the fuck kind of music is that
I got a train car of your body count
I got way far out to far rock away/Rockaway,
Stop to talk to me, or don't,
Must be a mirror over herer
Or McGregor, after Ewab, maybe
New York wants me to kill myself
New York is full of the devil
are soon to be where I am
The gangstalkers are soon to be stalked
The neighbors are soon to be eaten by their own demons
The root of all evil is evil,
And that's all I see here
White power wants me to kill my self
The Caucasians get crazy when the race war is waging
The elections are coming up
And they see us coming up on consciousness
They washed all the love out
White firms just wanna have fun
Why's it nice to be white
Even when you're wrong, you're right
Open up your big blue eyes real wide and
Caucasians are terrorists
I think it's McGuinness or however you spell it, cause half the names are like plays on
You made a world where I have to
You took everything that I'm after already
Call the luxury apartment reparations
But ain't got no privacy,
and hells angels and the kkk
Ride motorcycles every time I get my eye on the prize
So what's the price for being indigenous, black, and a genius
White supremacy finds sneakier ways to kill you
(Or make you kill yourself.)
The invisible man, in Manhattan
The sunglasses matches her madness
The cloud cover looks just like Texas
The cosmic avenger has a bright pink bird, and a purple frisbee
—that was the most magical shit I ever saw!
(I almost forgot about that)
Mi was like, in middle school, but for some reason was held back a year and should have “at least been in high school”, but was only in 7th grade.
At least now it wasn't like waking up into a sorrow, it wasn't heavy and drenched with some kind of loss, but instead as if I had gained some kind of magic little imaginary friend— and after all, I had done all that I could to put it as far from my mind as I could, without looking back… but something like love did keep creeping up with it, as if the universe wanted me to at least have this—a few good laughs, and the warmth in my heart that told me I could admire someone, without breaking beyond my own moral standards in that the hard stuff seemed at least for now that it was done.
The dream was mostly informal and weird until the end part, and indeed it was the cosmic avenger who had woken me up with a song that had no words, only notes—at least, until I finally awoke with the rush of a full bladder, and in the concious world the words were simple and quite pure, though I was unsure I could pick out the notes—as it turns out, I could, and though I couldn't wrap my mind around the chords.
I at least had the notes—I had been improving drastically at both guitar and piano, though my passion fur music hadn't truly returned—and I was still mostly out of the game, especially as a DJ, dissociating from my depression nd money troubles by writing, with hopes something would change, but as it turned out, almost nothing really moved me to do much more than besides what it seemed my body would want, or where my soul was almost comfortable at best, that is, almost.
I wished I had a friend like that in real life, that I could justify the kind of nonsense that made me laugh and so happy in waking life, rather than just in my own mind, but— here I was, alone, or only with Oli, and upset that I was awake and may not be tired enough to force myself back to sleep. At least, for the next two weeks, I had Peacock, and I might have even somehow jumped over the hurdle that for some reason had forbade me from watching 30 Rock over, (which I wanted to for some reason), some almost 15 years ago.
I had enjoyed thoroughly, with some intensely organic laughter, the movie Click just the night before, even writing some melodic piano inspired by the plot that might one day become something else, but for now, my Ableton was just as far away from my thoughts as anything else was, besides the other worlds I had created, simply with words and imagination, inspiration from what I would call ‘The Illuminati' ever so lovingly, but others might even just call God, or ‘The Business.' Really, there was no sense in separating the three, besides God itself being what I was sure some kind of divination for the artists that I had thought to be alike myself, in all the ways but one as of yet wealth.
I struggled every day with my inability to dress well, maintain my hair and nails, and how to spend what little I had to benefit me most, however, the dream had procured at least one revelation; that I should budget for vinyl stickers, as I had once gained a cult following that way before—completely by accident, however, the first time—and though I hadn't yet the readiness to return to the public eye with my rants and raves, typically quite literally about rants and raves, I had collected another heap of tapes that I was yet to sort though, but might prove worthy of returning to the realm of Enter The Multiverse, eventually—still I had music to make that wasn't being made, over due bills piling up, and a divorce case that seemed to drag on forever, much longer than it should—and with that, I allowed myself to peer into the world that I hadn't, this time with the help of a little magic, and by a little, it meant a lot.
I had wanted to spend my wedding anniversary anywhere besides my apartment, but I hadn't intended to be gone and lost all day in Manhattan while fasting, which ended up as a literal fucking nightmare, full of reminders of the disgusting and evil person my now estranged ex husband was, and it seemed as though there were cruel enough tricks being played on my psyche that it could have just as well ended on a harsh note, taking an uptown train to the face, after stopping to talk with a man who seemed friendly enough, but might have been Satan himself, as I had been drawn enough to his tattoo to make a remark on it, only to look closer and see that it was a Naruto tattoo, and though the man looked like Aliocha, that moment alone lead to an outburst out loud in which I nearly questioned my faith in God, or the existence in God at all— and yet there was, indeed a God, as just earlier in the day, though for the most part still nightmarish in all the ways spending a day you hated could be in public, surrounded by drones who seemed to mimick the Godlessness of such a person i wish i never would have known, and although perhaps the heavenly gesture was the day we had been married was the day i gave him any power he had, including his power to attempt to destroy me.
It was still an irritant to say the least, that not only my train was out of service, and I only wanted to go one place, anyway (specifically to get sticker paper, on that day, for my project, actually) only to find that it was a difficult and confusing mess to find that station on any other train without going out of my way, which didn't matter.
I was spat out somewhere downtown, actually, near One World Trade, which I had only ever visited once, and though I hated it—how capitalism had turned a literal graveyard into a tourist attraction, though I did like graveyards myself enough to have also happened by St. Paul's cemetery, to happily find that it was open rather than closed, but there was something else drawing me towards the center, perhaps a radio signal of some sort, which almost seemed to pull me closer and forward towards one world trade, and my inability to stay long within the droves of cellphones and robotic animal like people creatures, drew me up onto a staircase to discover a preforming arts center, although its name I hated, with constant reminders of meeting my untimely end in front of my two children with a bloody winding and blinding of my ex husbands fists, to which I dismissed anything and anyone who would support such an awful creature in anyway, though the name had become common enough that it happened often—often enough that I hated anything public, and had mostly felt safer in isolation.
After circling one World Trade Center, counting the cameras to surmise that I had always been caught and captured to have been in those moments and actions, most probably stored somewhere in some place which held all of the world's recorded history, and I wondered exactly which era I might actually belong to—some sort of invinite vision, or a recollection of a person having already lived and recorded, a mere mirror of the person I was having already somehow been, which I already knew, and the person I was indeed had been sent on some kind of mission with divine purpose, though in this day, all that I really wanted was to not ever be reminded of what day it was, or who I had been before, or who I might be at all—and seeking asylum and escape from the center of it all, I crossed the walk and carried along the bike path, in the opposite direction, so that I had less humans around at all, out of sight, out of mind, with some restoration of comfort—then suddenly, I was drawn to a particularly lovely building, and myself an admirer of architecture, couldn't help but to go to it to collect the address, so that I could later research who had designed the building—along the way drawn to a sticker which read Rom Com Tom, that was so literally and figuratively reflective, I could not help but pick it up.
The building seemed to be new, or even unoccupied, at least from street view, though its mirrored iridescent kept me from peering inside, I crept up the perimeter to see if there was a way around off the street level; there wasn't, but I did find something odd, and sort of interesting—a universal remote, or, rather, a remote control that could have been for anything, which I picked up, deciding that it had been some kind of writing prompt, after all, thinking ‘hm, that's odd, I was just thinking about Adam Sandler a lot recently' or more specifically, ‘thinking about that one movie where he has a remote that runs the world', and I had been, very recently, thinking of Adam Sandler enough that I had decided to slip the remote into my pocket, careful enough not to press any buttons, just in case some kind of higher ups were watching—a paranoia of sorts, but at the very least, I had counted almost a hundred cameras on my walk, and even If I wasn't being actually followed, (which I somehow sort of knew I was) I wouldn't want to be caught in the plot of somehow longing even more bizzare than I actually was, harem pants and all, to no suprise that the day had gone not at all as I had hoped, but at least I wasn't in my apartment sulkling.
ESHA MCGUENNES (I thought I figured out how to spell that….
Stuck in the love of the art
But if you're morbidly obese,
But your feet are like a size 6–
My doctor said I have a small frame, my feet are size 9, I went from a 10 to an 8.5-9 after losing 200 hundred pounds, I'm like “goddamn! Even my feet were fat! Fuck”
But if you're fat like I was, and your feet are size 6, your feet might be like a size 4!
You're a fat fucking pixie that fucked around and can't do little pixie shit now, cause you like pixie sticks
I'm just the rat in the dumpster
I made this whole world up
I locked up the dog catcher;
I called it a sermon, but
I don't know! Some black guy on that show I'm writing!
You really know how to make me cry
When you give me those ocean eyes
I just want to be Good today
Think of the dreams we made
Think of the drummer boy,
SHUT UP, GAYBRAHAM LINCOLN.
I'm having breakfast at 10 am
Thinking damn this depression is just setting in
There's a chest on my elephant
Chester drawer with hand carved elements
Closets with hangers and button ups
So I keep all my love close,
The brothers have found the fountain
How many dollars do tootsie pops cost
Great. Now I'm Jimmy Fallon.
Well what's fucked up! What happened!
FUCK! I hate being Jimmy Fallon!
Whose dick swings to the right like that?!
Or I could just leave you out.
Ahh. Shhhhhh!!! What if someone sees me.
[rings neighbors doorbell, shuts door]
The neighbor opens the door; now gifted with the ability to see demons, after merging with—
Oh no, when did that thing come into play?
Liz lemon lives on the ground floor
It don't matter cause she ain't never home l
Good talk, Donaghey, Good, Good Talk
It's good to be long gone from home
(I swear to God all the late night dudes are like the same guy.)
Look what the pimp limped in.
You think you're at least 5 foot—but you're 4 foot 9
[CHARLIE SHEEN relapses on the dance floor.]
Oh shit. Relapses to which habit?
Can I have ham in my spam samwhiches.
—you want ham in your spam sandwhich.
Welcome—to the' creepy shit fans have done for u's backlogs.
Well, I have millions of fans,
It would take me years to look at all this.
It just goes on like this—
….IS THAT A JIMMY FALLON?
He would play The Devil's Advocate,
[JIMMY FALLON is shot mercilessly in the shoulder in broad daylight.]
He'll be okay. He's Jimmy Fallon.
[LIKE 90,000 Ambulances and a SWAT team roll up.]
DEADMAU5 charges himself in a high speed chamber—a tech-driven coffin via a USB port in his neck.
Public Displays of Affliction
I've never even see. A. Aston Martin
Getting lost in Manhattan
I wouldn't dare entering, anyhow
(I just left the Whole Foods market)
I got lost and god was happy
Force a figure ibto music
Run a mile what's a california smile
Oh, don't we all want second chances
Now I've been an Aston Martin
Motorists dot muses now u want her
Now I've been an Aston Martin
Companion passing through
A menacing, incredibly ambedextrous submissive
I was hanging as the sun in Toronto
In my third eye was a camera lense;
Once upon a time I never had friends
Now I remember sitting in the backseat,
I remember when I never had ribs
I remember when I never had meat
I remember sitting in the front seat
Once upon a time I was anno one
Once upon a dollar, Jimmy Fallon
Once upon a dollar, Jimmy Fallon
Once a bunch of Pennies, lady Gaga
Once upon a time, I was a no one
Once upon a dollar, Jimmy Fallon
I remember penny was a virgin
I remember when you were the third one, l
Once upon a time I was the first one
Once upon a time, I thirst my quench with
I remember going on a long run
I remember once there was a
Now I quench my thirst with smart water
Once upon a dollar Jimmy Fallon
Once upon a nothing, there was no one
Now I take my coffee on a long ride
I wish for every dollar I ever had, back
I wish it was 11:11, every Dillon Francis
I wish for sandwhiches on leavened bread at Passover
I wish this whole world would Passover,
With the the stories in my home
I wish for the fame and wealth with it,
I wish I never laughed at Dillon Francis
I wish Skrillex was never a demon,
What do you mean by that?
The press is back and asking questions
Call my mother begging to drop the charges
Just asking what the pocket watch does
What's an engagement ring like that coat
How much to rug the cameras up
Like the 9 Dollar's I've got
Marked up, but not to spend them at the Market
But not as hard as I pray
So I can look like Jennifer Aniston
Least favorite host of all time
Method man was drinking up the water
It's a horrible, windfall
Whatever the fuck is going on in New York
It hurts to be the worst person
The first person to put reverse curses
On shamans from the 3rd world
And I'm living in the first world,
That's some diabolical plot
The cosmic avenger is stuck in a dimension
And white bitches who get offended
Norman Needs you, Mrs. Hotch
But I was never Mrs. Roberts
With all of the hearts and crosses , stars
Where's DimlonnFrancis at
That's a man without a mask,
And I still want breakfast
Jimmy Fallon has a family
But I laughed so hard in the bathtub
I still haven't come back from that
I feel bad for em, actually
Cause I was the wife that sucks
Stuck in the telling it over and over
I'm gone galloping horses,
And hornets, I'm just a furniture
Probably should have aborted me, mother
But I'm still in the hospital
Cause I had them all lined up
“Impossible, could not be my God!”
That's what they all said,
But they dressed me up like
Crossed off my list forever
I was just better off dead,
Better off stuck in my head, you know.
I read your messages, every one of them
Every one of the drugs in my bucket
I threw up from the fan club
Could not have been at that clown
JIMMY FALLON - THE COSMIC AVENGER
JIMMY FALLON THE COSMIC AVENGER is levitating in a hyper-meditative state.
Nobody thought Patrice O Neal was a woman!
I thought Patrice O Neal Was a Woman.
I swiped right on this dude, just cause he looked exactly like Bob Saget.
EXT. THE W HOTEL, BEVERLY HILLS, DAY/ EXT . PODSHARE WESTWOOD ROOFTOP, DAY
OH MY GOD, GUYS, LOOK: IT'S BOB SAGET.
Fuck, really?! Bob Saget?!
It was, in fact, Bob Saget.
That's it guys! No more dead celebrities!
Look, I have something to tell you.
This is a weird superpower.
EXT. GRAVEYARD, QUEENS, NY. DAY
Alright! I have a question!
Luckily, I die long beore Jimmy Fallon, and as my time approached, I took all i could absorb from the world within, and without, almost as if any and all of my deathwish had been satiated with the gentle ease, the notion of knowing my imminent death would come long before what those surrounding me would consider my time, and therefore would not be made to lose anymore than I already had–but at least, I did have th strength in knowing, not only would i never grow so old as to see for show most of what I had done, but that I had done most of what I would have at all, and not much longer than my words would form into all that would come to be known as my full body of work, I would perish, even before–long before– those I had studied, admired, and known to love–if only through the fourth wall, at all.
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