{The Audio Files}

I gotta go watch bad girls club, just to find that comedian that looks straight like a Boov.

I was almost entirely sure they had to have based that animated cartoon off of that guy.

I knew what i was looking at, I just couldn't think of the name.

I took one look at that dude and thought.

“Oh dude, you must be a comedian.”

You couldn't be anything else.

…maybe a writer.

__

On that note.

JLo is literally the most beautiful person ive ever seen in my life–

Like, up close.

You would think its just camera magic, and all that.

No. Its the truth.

She really looks like that.

I used to do background work;

You know, like a paid audience

I hated it, but it was work.

I fucking hated it.

Those studios are always cold,

Effin freezing.

They pay you to fake smile,

fake cheer,

Fake laugh–

Applause.

I thought I was going to clap my hands off.

So I took this job not knowing what it was–

Usually it's that way.

They don't tell you what it is, because

some failing, out-of-work actors

are also super fans:

Imagine that.

And they're going to go tell all their friends about it,

And it's a conflict of interest,

yada -yada–

But also, there are people there who PAY to see the show,

Cause they're like die-hard fans;

And you're not supposed to ruin it for them, or whatever–

So the whole thing is just

Altogether a bad job.

But anyway,

I take this job,

And the highlight, I guess, of this particular job,

Is that I get to be front and center

To Jennifer Lopez, who I find out,

Is a judge on this show–

“Highlight” meaning

“Just kill me.”

I'm like all the other out-of-work actors

In this paid audience gig, like,

“JLO” was what I was initially aiming for

With my career;

This is where I am.

So I'm like

‘Oh lord here it goes',

And they bring her out–

Cause you know,

She's like an actual,

Like a great-big star,

They have to ‘bring her out'

and in all my life I could not have guessed

That her face–

Is actually her face.

I'm astonished.

She just looks like that.

Great scott.

Everybody talks about JLo

And the whole damn thing about JLo

Is always her butt,

But i'm not worried about that–

that's chump change,

Because this is Hollywood, California

On some fucking backlot somewhere

And I can't get over the fact

That she might be the only celebrity

To look like herself,

In person.

I became a fan that day.

Not particularly of JLo–

But her parents.

Genetics is real.

How in the fuck do you look like that?

You're like 106!

I'm mad as hell at my parents, and they did *alright*.

But the older I realize, and the less time I have,

I have realized, I give a fuck about selective breeding.

At this point, i'm like,

“shit , i could have been alright without the trauma and homogonized corn syrup packed into everything and shoved down my throat!”

I could have done without that.

That did not sit well with me,

Or in my gut.

But now, i'm thinking about my future kids like,

“yo...I got no business wasting my time with these scraggly ass motherfuckers…”

“...no more broke motherfuckers…”

“No more lazy, sleeping through the alarm ten times, always whining motherfuckers…”

I have to think about the dynamics of the world having become so visual that it will highly impact the livelihood of my children if they don't look right.

Facts.

I might adopt some ugly ass kids.

–but i'm not gonna be responsible for supplying them!

I will not be held liable for manufacturing the motherfuckers!

I'll raise them, and know, having grown up ugly myself, I can teach them to cope with their shortcomings.

I will know from experience how to handle the world with less love and satisfaction than your average barbie or ken doll. Yes.

Don't get me wrong. My parents did *alright*

They were some good looking people.

In real life.

But the fact is, that good looking people, with bad fucking habits–

Often lead to ugliness

That doesn't always mean you got a fucked up face.

No.

A bad environment can fuck up your thought processes,

your vibrational patterns,

your frequency–

Long before you're even well aware of yourself at all

Of what ‘ugly' is.

All that toxic shit–

that

drinking

And partying

And carrying on and

Smoking too much with the windows rolled all the way up

All that

Not paying so much attention when you needed to

or

Relying on your child for emotional support

From the early age of birth

can offset a child's entire world

Enough so that

Perception becomes reality

All that dysfunction

And chaos

And fighting

And screaming

and slamming doors

and running around

Not knowing what the fuck is going on

later becomes ugly

becomes

Eating too much

Becomes

always seeking security and attention

Becomes

vulnarabikity

that in the adult world,

Reads as ‘ugliness'

Tiredness

Obesity,

and of course

Developing the bad habits

You thought were normal facets

Of actual life,

Untl you reaize

one day–

Whether its too late, or not

Were in fact

not normal

These patterns

which shaped

your entire reality

For years in your upbringing

Had become

Ugliness

I realized, I got no business fucking around with other trauma cases,

because most of the time, instead of it leading to understanding and empowerment,

It becomes a powerstrugle within a relationship

two broken people competing for the need to feed and fuel the emptiness

That a life of being in such a way

Has rampaged.

I realize i've put in the work and the effort

To release myself from this ugliness

To find the truth that one day,

My inner beauty, will shine an outer light

Bright enough for some one worthy and capable of loving my scars–

the still-ugliness left over,

unconditionally

Seeking not someone who can fill in the emptiness

But can realize that on my own,

I have become whole enough

To create the beauty I had once lost

And cherish the filling-in

That i had taken on

As my own responsibility to myself.

Oh God, all that on JLo?

She has a nice face.

God!

The rest is alright, I guess.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

The Complex Collective. ©

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-Ū.

As I flirt with suicide, I realize

I am famous and of much importance without being paid for it—

People enter my line of sight just to exist, I.

(lol)

I'm in an existential crisis

And this residential area

Is under surveillance

Psychological violence

And terrorism is technological

I'm a flight risk

But if I die,

The devil inside my child l l

I digress

Will probably profit l l

Cause very n*gg*r is a star

With two consonants at the end,

Okay,

We're gonna kill each other

Okay

The song's almost over

Okay,

I've got a lot to do to day,

Would you throw yourself

At the bus

Or from under my keychain

Okay

I got pain in my heart, you know

Okay,

I'm stuck in the road you know

Okay,

So I left the door I open

To go play darts at the bar

And the dog walked in

Okay

You don't want a bad problem

Okay

I got a trunk full of bodies

Okay,

I need guitar lessons

Okay—

So this table wine calling my name

Or what

OKAY

so we're gonna kill each other

Okay

Alright

Okay

So I left the door open

OKAY

I got a pest problem

OKAY

I don't want no more problems

I don't produce movies

I got 12 dollars.

Okay,

Stop talking

Sunlit spells under midnight moon

You turned your heart on mine

The ocean calls

What realm of hell is this, I walk?

The devils eyes have found

Your world

Made of fractions of illusion

And robbed

Of stardust

The light of the cosmos

Is here upon lost,

With the mark of the crying dollar

For it was I who died high on the cross and

Yet, did not die at all,

So was boarded under rocks,

A bolder and slumped over

{Enter The Multiverse}

Serrated imagery

No response server

Straight at the begging of the seven years,

Was the forager blind, who would become journeyman, Shepard and son of all

Who had witnessed since, the oncoming of her arrival.

Come, now Ishii.

You were a terror.

Aren't I now?

Let's not forget, there are commonplace errors here,

Among the redaction

And in all time,

It could take years,

To find the days

Coming toward tomorrow

I say you should let him out, if ye know what's good fer ye.

I say, you should say less than nessecary, as my patience is shrinking and you, my foul ogre are a lot more pleasant when you're not speaking.

Forget I said anything.

I wish that I could do that.

I used to grant wishes, too, you know. And I'm only part ogre.

Hush, will you.

Yes I will.

[beat]

What's the other part?

—French.

Bitch,

CLEAN YOUR ROOM BEFORE YOU TAKE A SELFIE.

On God—

wtf am I looking at sometimes.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

The Complex Collective. ©

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-Ū.

I gotta go watch bad girls club, just to find that comedian that looks straight like a Boov.

I was almost entirely sure they had to have based that animated cartoon off of that guy.

I knew what i was looking at, I just couldn't think of the name.

I took one look at that dude and thought.

“Oh dude, you must be a comedian.”

You couldn't be anything else.

…maybe a writer.

__

On that note.

JLo is literally the most beautiful person ive ever seen in my life–

Like, up close.

You would think its just camera magic, and all that.

No. Its the truth.

She really looks like that.

I used to do background work;

You know, like a paid audience

I hated it, but it was work.

I fucking hated it.

Those studios are always cold,

Effin freezing.

They pay you to fake smile,

fake cheer,

Fake laugh–

Applause.

I thought I was going to clap my hands off.

So I took this job not knowing what it was–

Usually it's that way.

They don't tell you what it is, because

some failing, out-of-work actors

are also super fans:

Imagine that.

And they're going to go tell all their friends about it,

And it's a conflict of interest,

yada -yada–

But also, there are people there who PAY to see the show,

Cause they're like die-hard fans;

And you're not supposed to ruin it for them, or whatever–

So the whole thing is just

Altogether a bad job.

But anyway,

I take this job,

And the highlight, I guess, of this particular job,

Is that I get to be front and center

To Jennifer Lopez, who I find out,

Is a judge on this show–

“Highlight” meaning

“Just kill me.”

I'm like all the other out-of-work actors

In this paid audience gig, like,

“JLO” was what I was initially aiming for

With my career;

This is where I am.

So I'm like

‘Oh lord here it goes',

And they bring her out–

Cause you know,

She's like an actual,

Like a great-big star,

They have to ‘bring her out'

and in all my life I could not have guessed

That her face–

Is actually her face.

I'm astonished.

She just looks like that.

Great scott.

Everybody talks about JLo

And the whole damn thing about JLo

Is always her butt,

But i'm not worried about that–

that's chump change,

Because this is Hollywood, California

On some fucking backlot somewhere

And I can't get over the fact

That she might be the only celebrity

To look like herself,

In person.

I became a fan that day.

Not particularly of JLo–

But her parents.

Genetics is real.

How in the fuck do you look like that?

You're like 106!

I'm mad as hell at my parents, and they did *alright*.

But the older I realize, and the less time I have,

I have realized, I give a fuck about selective breeding.

At this point, i'm like,

“shit , i could have been alright without the trauma and homogonized corn syrup packed into everything and shoved down my throat!”

I could have done without that.

That did not sit well with me,

Or in my gut.

But now, i'm thinking about my future kids like,

“yo...I got no business wasting my time with these scraggly ass motherfuckers…”

“...no more broke motherfuckers…”

“No more lazy, sleeping through the alarm ten times, always whining motherfuckers…”

I have to think about the dynamics of the world having become so visual that it will highly impact the livelihood of my children if they don't look right.

Facts.

I might adopt some ugly ass kids.

–but i'm not gonna be responsible for supplying them!

I will not be held liable for manufacturing the motherfuckers!

I'll raise them, and know, having grown up ugly myself, I can teach them to cope with their shortcomings.

I will know from experience how to handle the world with less love and satisfaction than your average barbie or ken doll. Yes.

Don't get me wrong. My parents did *alright*

They were some good looking people.

In real life.

But the fact is, that good looking people, with bad fucking habits–

Often lead to ugliness

That doesn't always mean you got a fucked up face.

No.

A bad environment can fuck up your thought processes,

your vibrational patterns,

your frequency–

Long before you're even well aware of yourself at all

Of what ‘ugly' is.

All that toxic shit–

that

drinking

And partying

And carrying on and

Smoking too much with the windows rolled all the way up

All that

Not paying so much attention when you needed to

or

Relying on your child for emotional support

From the early age of birth

can offset a child's entire world

Enough so that

Perception becomes reality

All that dysfunction

And chaos

And fighting

And screaming

and slamming doors

and running around

Not knowing what the fuck is going on

later becomes ugly

becomes

Eating too much

Becomes

always seeking security and attention

Becomes

vulnarabikity

that in the adult world,

Reads as ‘ugliness'

Tiredness

Obesity,

and of course

Developing the bad habits

You thought were normal facets

Of actual life,

Untl you reaize

one day–

Whether its too late, or not

Were in fact

not normal

These patterns

which shaped

your entire reality

For years in your upbringing

Had become

Ugliness

I realized, I got no business fucking around with other trauma cases,

because most of the time, instead of it leading to understanding and empowerment,

It becomes a powerstrugle within a relationship

two broken people competing for the need to feed and fuel the emptiness

That a life of being in such a way

Has rampaged.

I realize i've put in the work and the effort

To release myself from this ugliness

To find the truth that one day,

My inner beauty, will shine an outer light

Bright enough for some one worthy and capable of loving my scars–

the still-ugliness left over,

unconditionally

Seeking not someone who can fill in the emptiness

But can realize that on my own,

I have become whole enough

To create the beauty I had once lost

And cherish the filling-in

That i had taken on

As my own responsibility to myself.

Oh God, all that on JLo?

She has a nice face.

God!

The rest is alright, I guess.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

The Complex Collective. ©

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-Ū.

As I flirt with suicide, I realize

I am famous and of much importance without being paid for it—

People enter my line of sight just to exist, I.

(lol)

I'm in an existential crisis

And this residential area

Is under surveillance

Psychological violence

And terrorism is technological

I'm a flight risk

But if I die,

The devil inside my child l l

I digress

Will probably profit l l

Cause very n*gg*r is a star

With two consonants at the end,

Okay,

We're gonna kill each other

Okay

The song's almost over

Okay,

I've got a lot to do to day,

Would you throw yourself

At the bus

Or from under my keychain

Okay

I got pain in my heart, you know

Okay,

I'm stuck in the road you know

Okay,

So I left the door I open

To go play darts at the bar

And the dog walked in

Okay

You don't want a bad problem

Okay

I got a trunk full of bodies

Okay,

I need guitar lessons

Okay—

So this table wine calling my name

Or what

OKAY

so we're gonna kill each other

Okay

Alright

Okay

So I left the door open

OKAY

I got a pest problem

OKAY

I don't want no more problems

I don't produce movies

I got 12 dollars.

Okay,

Stop talking

Sunlit spells under midnight moon

You turned your heart on mine

The ocean calls

What realm of hell is this, I walk?

The devils eyes have found

Your world

Made of fractions of illusion

And robbed

Of stardust

The light of the cosmos

Is here upon lost,

With the mark of the crying dollar

For it was I who died high on the cross and

Yet, did not die at all,

So was boarded under rocks,

A bolder and slumped over

{Enter The Multiverse}

Serrated imagery

No response server

Straight at the begging of the seven years,

Was the forager blind, who would become journeyman, Shepard and son of all

Who had witnessed since, the oncoming of her arrival.

Come, now Ishii.

You were a terror.

Aren't I now?

Let's not forget, there are commonplace errors here,

Among the redaction

And in all time,

It could take years,

To find the days

Coming toward tomorrow

I say you should let him out, if ye know what's good fer ye.

I say, you should say less than nessecary, as my patience is shrinking and you, my foul ogre are a lot more pleasant when you're not speaking.

Forget I said anything.

I wish that I could do that.

I used to grant wishes, too, you know. And I'm only part ogre.

Hush, will you.

Yes I will.

[beat]

What's the other part?

—French.

Bitch,

CLEAN YOUR ROOM BEFORE YOU TAKE A SELFIE.

On God—

wtf am I looking at sometimes.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

The Complex Collective. ©

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-Ū.