The Secret Life Of Sunnï Blū

A very dark skinned man, athletic build and tall introduces himself. He appears to be some type of fitness instructor.

MOZU

(In African accent)

Hello! I am MOZU!

PATRICK

Oh. Hello, Mozu.

MOZU

(In very clear American accent)

How we doin'?

There is a slight awkward break and short pause before he continues, laughing.

MOZU CONT'D

Haha! Got you! Thought I was African, didn't you?

PATRICK

(awkwardly)

Wouldn't have mattered!

MOZU

That one always gets people.

PATRICK

How often do you do that?

MOZU

A lot.

PATRICK

Oh. That is funny.

MOZU

Yes, it is. Haha! I'm from Michigan.

PATRICK

Oh—which part?

MOZU

Detroit. 8 Mile.

PATRICK

Oh!

MOZU

Aha! Got you again! Oh, I'm kidding.

Suburbs. Near the lakes.

Very nice actually.

PATRICK

(Laughing awkwardly)

Oh…

MOZU

We have a boat.

PATRICK

Oh. Still?

MOZU

Would you believe me if I told you it sank?

PATRICK

I'm not sure.

MOZU

It did. Not all the way, but.

We still have it.

PATRICK

You're kind of funny.

MOZU

Not as funny as you, so I've heard.

PATRICK

You've “heard”?

MOZU

I was briefed. They always stick me with the Higher end clientele.

PATRICK

Is that so?

MOZU

Yeah. I'm the only one that doesn't get starstruck so easily.

PATRICK

It's probably your quick-wit…and subtle self depreciating racism.

MOZU

A combination that can't be beat.

PATRICK

It can't.

MOZU

So, where you from?

PATRICK

(without hesitation)

The Bronx.

MOZU

I sense this is not a joke.

PATRICK

I don't see a camera anywhere—do you?

MOZU

Funny you should say that…

PATRICK

Why?

MOZU

I was hoping you would sign me this autograph, here—-

He produces a folded piece of paper from his pocket.

PATRICK

Seriously?

MOZU

Yeah, actually— I just need you to sign right here—

[beat, an almost solid glare of disbelief.]

MOZU

It's—your release form.

PATRICK

Oh!

MOZU

Got you again, didn't I?

Haha!

PATRICK

Yes, you did.

MOZU

Good. Just sign here.

He does.

MOZU CONT'D

And here.

He signs again.

MOZU CONT'D

And.

As he is finished signing the form MOZU sneaks a quick selfie.

PATRICK

(Lowly)

Eee.

MOZU

Yeah.

PATRICK

(Short)

Okay.

MOZU

To track your progress.

He lets out a deep sigh.

MOZU

Away we go.

They walk into the luxury gym, which appears to be empty, as the sun rises over Manhattan.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. ©

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-Ū.

Concourse 12. 8 PM. Sharp.

‘How am I still writing this story?'

What even is this story?

To be fair, I didn't know what I was writing but it sounded good—there was something powerful about the way the shadow figures danced in the confines of my mind—careful not to become attached to the love I had grown for them, the mysterious shadows, they appeared both as creatures of man, and as animals; this— The Prairie Dog— a fortified soldier but also a leader.

There's nothing you can do about this, you know.

Why exactly should I want to do anything at all?

It's a curse.

So it is.

—you'll be rid of it within the turn of seasons.

Worthwhile advice.

I envy you.

— as anyone should.

—you shouldn't.

The second, a voice unknown.

I didn't know these pussyfoot bastards worked on Sundays.

They work to the will of your beck and call.

Like all good slaves and servants should.

As to be expected under your remarkable guidance.

My remarkable guidance is yet to be a consideration as my unintentional inadequacies.

Verily, I'm sure.

Are you sure.

There was once a time I wasn't so sure or anything—

Now I'm more than sure of everything than I ever was.

Now I believe you.

—you shouldn't.

It was a raised scar, like the one on my elbow from when I was 9–one I was sure would never heal. It could easily be felt by running my tongue only the bottom of my lower lip— evidence that there has been a hole in my face that had gone straight through to the other side—just then I remembered that also my too teeth had left bloody, skinless indents on my upper lip, which eventually inspired me to re-pieirce my upper lip—the canine tooth had almost gone all the way through, anyway— I joked; but it wasn't funny.

Why in the fuck should I trust you?

That's a good question.

It's a question that deserves an answer.

Even if I gave you a good one, would you trust it?

What?

Do you trust me at all?

I'm trying to.

Trying is doing.

There are tougher things than swallowing your pride.

How about—swallowing a bullet.

That's some class-A on-screen banter.

Now I have an endless supply of coffee in my room. That's good—if only there were somehow also warm calorie-free pastries to add to the pleasure of luxury one would find such as waking up to one's own studio, fresh out of time and chock full of ideas, and a hearty list of things to do— with a whole world of…

Oh. The wi-FI is on.

Something about my creative intelligence had seem to spark a curious interest within the pre-concious life forms of the lower realms. Lucky, I was just visiting—sure to take my life at any given moment when just so I felt that I had been fed up to here with simply human senselessness; however, I was indeed tasked with enveloping humankind in my own ways—that is, the ways of higher thinking, as I had traveled far and long from an ascended realm, only of course to be welcomed by absolute l chaos—and some primitive, intrinsic fear. Humans happen to be almost immidiateky stifled by one's outer appearances—as to say the least— as when I first I arrived I was neither welcome, nor valued.

AHAT—WHATTHEFUCK.

Yes.

EEGH.

How do you do?

[The Festival Project.™]

{Enter The Multiverse}

There for I,

There for I,

There for I,

None! As truth did shatter mine ever being,

And also Ever person near

WHO VALIDATED THAT BITCH'S PARKING.

—you think she drove here?!

—if she did it would be on a broomstick.

Goddammit.

Get her out of here!

Out! I said!

You're…not a fan of Fallon's, are you.

No, I'm not.

(No—God, no.)

Well, why not?

First of all, he winks at people.

;)

*cringe*

Like, off camera.

And I want damages.

Damages?!

Damages.

He's seeking damages?! To what.

Like, my entire—everything.

Damages to everything.

My entire life!

Ah.

I've got to admit, being sued hy Jimmy Fallon is probably the most exciting thing that's ever happened in the entirety of this series!

What about that thing with Skrillex.

That was pretty exiting.

Which thing with Skrillex?

All the things with Skrillex were pretty exciting.

(Admittedly, yes.)

Then there was Dillon Francis.

I hate Dillon Francis.

Exactly.

Why!

Because he excited you.

Next question!

Ahead.

Yo. I finally get to link up with Supacree.

You're a mess.

Everything is a mess.

The world is a mess.

—your mom's a mess.

Amanda, please.

Have you been drinking?

How long has deadmau5 been a cat?

Forever, I think.

Exciting!

Enter through the exit! Enter through the exit!

Who the fuck let you in here.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

Let me guess; you thought I would look like Paula Patton?

I was hoping.

Well, that's too bad. I told you I was ugly; I look like this.

I gathered.

This–couldn't possibly be what you thought i was thinking.

I don't have to think what you're thinking; I know what you're thinking without thinking it.

This telepathy thing just keeps sinking in deeper.

You can be relevant–or irrelevant; which is it?

Goddamit. Where am I…what am I?

What is this?

Shh, don't even speak; not even in whispers–it can hear you.

What can hear me?

The algorithm.

Why are you still writing? How are you still writing?

I don't know. Pettiness. Spite.

My friends are hating you for this.

I didn't plan on this being the reason for exacting my revenge.

What exactly are you exacting–your revenge– on or at?

I've been meditating some very deep thoughts, recently.

I see.

Deep–and disturbing.

How else can you be the light?

I want to throw up.

Dillon Francis?

Hanzel, actually.

JUST DO IT.

I killed myself, recently.

How recently?

Recently enough it shouldn't matter yet;

Or should, already.

“Vice City”

I began recording everything surrounding my apartment. Ugly little men were acting strangely and it seemed that everything around and about me was centered on my very deep and very dark past.

Interesting architecture.

Exquisite.

Somebody knew who i was–or who I used to be, and was using it against me–the only problem was, that it couldn't be used against me. I had everything, but in a deeper and more meaningful sense, I had lost everything. I was an easy target–like taking candy from a baby–or–taking a baby from its mother. Simply put–I didn't want to play

What game are we playing?

Why the fuck are you even in my fame game?

I don't know, Keenan Thompson.

I don't know.

Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

[As his girlfriend begins giving him a sensual and passionate fellacio, the man senses something isn't right.]

…baby.

Mm-hmm?

Um…

—whafths wrng?

Uh—nothing it's just—

—wht—

—that—just—

Uh huh?

What did you do earlier?

Before this?

Yeah.

I hada massage—

—before that—

—before that?

Yeah.

Hot ones.

WHAT?

Yeah—what?! I had a hot ones interview!

THATS WHY MY DICK IS ON FIRE?!

YOUR DICK IS FIRE—

—nah, wait— your dick is on fire?!

WHAT THE FUCK! YO.

Oh. That makes sense.

WHAT THE FUCK!

[he begins furiously rinsing his crotch with cool water]

Did you not think to brush your teeth!?!

I did brush my teeth!

With toothpaste!?

AND FLOSS.

Oh, really.

AND mouthwash!

I don't believe you!

Believe me! They gave me a whole gift basket after the interview—that's where I got the coupon for the massage!

FLASHBACK:

Sean Evan's gifts [Sunnï Blū] a gift basket full of hot ones essentials; DA BathBOMB, hot sauce body oils, first we feast (then we brush) toothpaste, all scoville scale inspired goods and products;

LATER:

Sean Evan's is taking a jacuzzi bath in a tub full of steamy red boiling hot sauce, when (the man) enters furiously and red faced, aiming for Sean Evans' neck; he stands up calmly and wraps himself in a towel, which looks like bacon.

Ah.

I've been expecting you.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

GODDAMMIT RYAN REYNOLDS.

WHAT DO YOU WANT?

CUT TO:

[Cofee is being made.]

Oops, I Did It Again - Britney Spears

[There are no pants involved.]

…this is it, isn't it?

What.

Season 10

This is the movie before season 10

[Cofee is being enjoyed.]

I want to go on high concept adventures through space and time.

[There are still no pants involved.]

What are you, Ryan Reynolds?

A TV host?

(sipping coffee)

Let's just say I put in my time.

—and until the seething, burning hate in your eyes returns, this conversation is over.

It never left!

So that's what strike force 5 does.

⚡️

Well then, this conversation is still over—because I have better shit to do.

[Strike Force 4.5]

Getting awesome parts in awesome movies for our friends—yes. Strike force 5–no.

What do you mean ‘no'

We kicked Jimmy out.

Which Jimmy?

Shouldn't matter.

You know which.

Shouldn't matter—okay— just— do the bit.

What.

The BIT,

Ugh, alright.

We meet again.

Multiple actual actors are stuck in the actual world of Sesame Street, which—

Admittedly, this is okay.

—seems awesome at first, but after awhile…

Ok. This [censored] gets deep.

Not that bit! The other bit.

I can't do that bit right now.

What the fuck? Why not?

Because, I'm not wearing pants.

Did it work.

FUCK YOU RYAN REYNOLDS, GODDAMMIT.

So, we meet again.

GET OUT.

If I was a horse, I'd kick you in the face.

Shit, if you were a horse, I'd kick you.

And I love fucking horses.

You love fucking horses?!

You know what? I still might.

Get over behind me and a little lower to the ground.

You don't want that.

No, you dont want that;

I'm still holding in a fart.

For four seasons?

Meet me at the four seasons.

For what?

Because, global warming is a bitch and I want to take ironic memory photos for momentos.

WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE?

Same thing you are.

(Sips coffee)

You smell like baggage and unpaid debt.

The Cosmic Avenger takes off his wedding band to prepare to fight; He places it on the table, and it begins to glow and float, growing as it begins to levitate and gravitate towards his opponent, [a mysterious multidimensional alien], who stands undefeated. The ring swells to the size of a large golden halo, sitting itself atop the head of his opponent, and though momentarily caught in the midsts of being in awe, the halo drops over his opponents head and onto their shoulders, tightening into a collar around their neck—beams of light attach to the collar like chained leashes and seven dieties drag his opponent away.

The Cosmic Avenger stands in confusion, before asking,

…what does that mean?

A DRAW!

(We'll see.)

Ultralight beam>< oops I did it again.

But play the video, right?

That, and the Rick Roll.

(Courtesy of Jesus Christ The Savior, Inc.)

SUNNI BLU

MorGIE.

What!

GODDAMMIT SUNNÏ

WHAT!

This memo says I'm starting opposite Ryan Reynolds in an upcoming action and adventure flick.

Yes, that's correct.

No, it isn't, Majilla!!!

Why isn't it, Sunni?

I can't star opposite Ryan Reynolds.

Well, why not?

CAUSE I'M GAY.

Lil bitz

So I was listening to Kanye Weat*

Yes.

I was listening to Kanye West, and he's talking about cheating on Kim, Like, out loud—

And I get dumb curious, so I ask Google

Google, why are dudes so obsessed with models—

I typed that in and hit search, and the whole thing just freezes.

Even Google doesn't have a fucking answer for the intrinsic stupidity that is the hardwiring of the modern man.

You ever look at like Greek sculptures, or Roman Arcitecture and realize the women aren't fucking twigs?

They're not sticks!

They're like muscular, and thick, and mad healthy looking.

And that's weird to me.

That at one point men were wired to be attracted to healthy looking women—

But now the ideal for perfection is like 110 lbs and if you're anywhere between 5'1 and 5'11 that's ideal.

That's nuts to me.

So you're just trying to like, put your dick through the bitch!?

Yes.

I can actually see my 5 inch penis on the other side of this woman as I penetrate her.

Good job, guys.

Meet me at Equinox; The Hudson Yards Location- 7:05 Sharp.

Alright.

EQUINOX FITNESS. HUDSON YARDS. NEW YORK CITY. DAY

Not this side, that side.

What do you mean.

This is the fitness section.

You said Equinox…

We're going to the hotel.

SUNNI BLU

You ever been to pound town?

Weather's great right now.

I ain't going outside now,

I got a new strike force,

Four door, 5 clowns.

Ohhhhhhhh.

Shout out to Jimmy O!

Don't shout out to Jimmy, no

He back to back too many hooooeeess—

You know I'm talkin bout his show

Go stream Tonight though.

No thanks.

Ben and Jerry's tonight doe.

AHEM.

Gazuntite.

Listen—

Ryan Reynolds is the devil.

I knew it.

You knew that already?

Yeah.

Great, so is he through with Jimmy Fallon then?

Uh, I guess.

That's great, I gotta go rehearse these lines.

Okay?

Oh and Jimmy.

Yes.

Find some pants.

MEANWHILE.

DAVID LETTERMAN

MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

HUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA!

That's more like it.

Okay, but following up on before.

THE COMIC AGENGER does not need an evil laugh.

Hey, Jimmy.

Mwahaha..

Damn. Okay.

Look, I just found out that dude's evil laugh is actually just…his regular laugh.

How do you mean?

Have you ever heard Jimmy Fallon laugh?

Play the clip.

[JIMMY FALLON's actual laugh is terryfying and meniacal. ]

You're a menace.

You lost me.

Whatever dog,

I'll have all of you I'll ever need with AI.

CUT TO:

[Squirts soy sauce into Jimmy Fallon's squinty ass eyes.]

AGGGHHHH. MY EYES.

Quit friggin squinting.

I'm not squinting! These are just my eyes!

I hope you die.

So.

You're officially a literary genius.

What are you going to do with that?

I don't know? Die?

Hahaha, she's Jewish!

The entirety of the world of LEGENDS and enter the multiverse becomes a backdrop for Jimmy Kimmel's Latest Late Late Show

Is that what it's called?

I don't…give a fuck.

He acts throughout the season as a literal comic relief, almost always only arriving as disaster and despair have stricken, and at the absolutely worst possible moment—

AGH—MY EYES!

Your squinty eyes. *also squints*

AH WHAT THE [CENSORED]

WHY ARE YOU STILL CENSORED?!

Didn't they fire you from NBC?

I'M CENSORED IN ANYTHING THAT MIGHT BE LATER SYNDICATED— [FUCK] (but censored)

Is that what you're squinting at?!

ITS IN MY CONTRACT, I AM NOT SQUINTING THESE ARE MY ACTUAL EYES.

Fuck you, Jimmy. If I thought you had balls, I'd kick you in them right now.

[EXPLITIVE] YOUR FACE.

What are you, Chinese?

THIS IS VERY OFFENSIVE.

Hush, Yao Ming.

YOURE JUST MAKING IT WORSE.

Do you want any soy sauce in your noodles?

This is classic ritual torture.

You hush, too Billie— I need you to coconut oil the cornbread.

Cornbread with noodles?!

I didn't hear any complaints when I went over today's menu earlier while you two were at karaoke, almost getting along just fine.

CUT TO: FLASHBACK, EARLIER

I'm making noodles with cornbread, any suggestions.

PSYCHO KILLER!

FAH-FAH-FAH-FAH-FAH-FAH

You're off pitch.

I HAVE PERFECT PITCH.

FA-FA

You're flat.

Eat a dick.

Ugh.

Yo, G, what's for lunch?

[standing in the doorway awkwardly with a spatula]

Oh, I get it— G stands for

Flashback within a flashback:

Tha God.

I'm not calling you that.

Why not? That's what you've been calling me for decades— now that I'm in a person, it makes any difference?

Yeah, that person.

Something's different.

You don't say.

It's my eyes. Something's — different.

Oh, it's nothing— just the very slightest more blue.

Blue, did you say?

RYAN REYNOLDS

(As Archer)

You'll mark the hour at which it begins,

With this,

A solemn sustained and prolonged note

Which cherishes your argument,

That all art must come undone,

Foraged in truth,

And bound by light

With sanctity.

CHORUS

Here here!

Greetings, dear Chorus,

Or have you named your honored hut—?

The gathering of all bound by the Gods

Who are astounded at our haste making!

CHORUS

To tide!

To tide and fare not my good;

Fare not my brethren, come cut to fire;

In aught to honor thy shallow grazing,

And there, the art had sunk,

Though weeping cottons in the Weat,

For fortune, to arch, ire.

For certain, and for gathered have you waiting—

Crisp air and our attire, to call tonight,

The very moon to whom the stars melt,

Though pacing off and appearing as none but small like,

Off in the thunderous wonders of us,

Beyond earth,

Another path which light,

And art must honor.

Hear you,

And faring great to those requested our service,

Bone marrow, and silk wi‘d blood

Forsaken, as all have heard by now,

Enchantments and forced sermons,

And with wit does honor I,

Gasping for staging,

Present but here not yet,

The after wish of heart, you I

does followeth,

Daring to know thy name,

As Kingdom come,

And yet,

You are not—

Still dark the womb of haven't made,

And saying,

‘Are I not of my father and mother,

Or neither?'

To honor once at dusk, my own coming as one

And at dawn, my own night in the wake in death of days,

Sure to end for not I wake, as fair health does hold

My farewells and yonder says,

Oh how I,

And are you—

The game at hand.

And now, our honor.

SEAN EVANS

(As Tallymaede)

—Bur first, we feast.

[The chorus cheers with great elation.]

Who the fuck ordered Greek Theatre cold opens?

Jesus Christ, party of 1.

I don't know. ‍♀️ I was fasting.

I meant— ahem—

Party of three.

LEGENDS

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

What is your preshow ritual, anyway?

I stand on one of the high floors, up here–

Yeah–

And I shoot snot at the tourists.

What?

Gross.

Fascinating.

Straight out of my nose.

Ah, God, man.

You need help.

And into the plaza.

Sick.

Gross.

Before every show.

[beat]

You know, some of those tourists are in your audience.

Exactly.

Agh.

You need help, guy.

You're a sick man.

What goes around…comes around.

Agh.

I JUST GOT MY NBC MERCH.

Ahh, shit, here she comes.

Is she drunk.

What time is it?

8:45 AM.

She's wasted.

Yooooooooooooooooo.

What up, californians.

What up Sunni.

Good morning.

Californians in new york,

That's fucked up.

Happens all the time.

It is weird.

Shouldn't be a thing.

Wasted.

You like my sweatshirt?

[Saturday Night Live]

It's custom.

No it isn't.

It's SNL.

I just said that.

THE ‘N' IS FOR–

What did you just say?

I said.

NONSENSE. THIS IS NONSENSE.

What.

Lets take a break.

__

CUT TO:

I'm going to stare at this photograph until the image of you is burned into my brain.

OKay.

Why are we LEVITATING?

And then,

I'm going to incinerate it with my mind.

*gasp*

YOU'RE JACKED.

I'M WASTED.

[meanwhile, at craft services]

More cocaine, please.

Thank you, very much.

You hold yourself together very well.

I'm sorry, i'm sorry–i'm sorry–i'm sorry.

What in the FUCK are you apologizing for?!

I am a telepathic time traveler.

I knew that already.

Like, in very real life.

Does this thing go both ways.

[REDACTED]

WHO ARE YOU?

I forgot, already honestly.

[The Office Style Mockumentary]

I heard you were looking for Jimmy.

I wasn't.

He's nuts.

I–

[This is not a movie about]

[REDACTED]

I'm gonna kill that son of a bitch.

I'm gonna kill him.

AMY POHLER

No comment.

{Enter The Multiverse}

Once you master the levitation, teleportation is only a very sight–

Jesus Christ.

Not quite.

I mean.

Seth Meyers. What are you doing here.

I'm not.

Okay.

L E G E N D S

Why are we levitating?

We're levitating. You're just—

Goddammit, what the fuck do you want?

Looking for this?

NO.

Well, why not?

Cause i dropped it; what the fuck are you doing with it?

…I thought you'd be looking for it–

Well, I wasn't, because I dropped it precisely where I dropped it on purpose.

Why–would you drop something like this?

Why wouldn't I?

Isn't it the only one of its kind?

Goddammit, you fucking suck at everything.

I don't suck at everything…

You suck at this, specifically–and this is everything.

Ah fuck, i lost his cadence.

I lost the cadence.

I lost everything.

Suddenly, i stopped writing in his cadence. It was as if, after all that time, he had simply just–

Disappeared.

Goddammit.

Now what happened.

Nothing!

Dis/Connect.

Disconnected.

Why. What happened.

The server is down.

What do you mean the server is down?

I'm the server.

Well, it's down.

WHAT IN THE FUCKKKKKK.

FUCK.

FUCK.

Now I gotta go find Jimmy Fallon.

FUCK MAN, I HATE THIS DUDE.

__

FUCK THIS NIGGA. I'M SICK OF HIM.

You can't say that.

I JUST DID.

You're lucky they even invited you back here.

INVITED ME? I OWN THE NETWORK.

WHAT!

Sunni.

SINCE WHEN.

YOU CAN'T BILL COSBY ME, MOTHERFUCKER.

I OWN NBC.

THATS RIGHT.

SUCK MY BIG BLACK DICK.

Sunni!

NIGGAAAAAAAAAAAA.

[throws liquor bottle through jewelry store window and palms all of the diamonds on display]

aaaaaahhhhhhhh — jager bomb.

THAT'S NOT EVEN JAGER.

Whateva.

L E G E N D S

Camera 1–

Now, look directly in the light…

I won four oscars… [for that one]

I knew that if Sara was a real person–then Stefon was probably a real person, and eventually, i started to wonder, if also–Sunni Blu was a real person.

Who is C'cxell Soleil?

DO YOU MEAN I COULD HAVE GOTTEN 10% OFF THIS SWEATER?!

AGGHGHHHH GODDAMMIT I HATE THIS MOTEHRFUCKER.

Let me try.

For what.

It's my console.

So.

I got cheat codes.

Let the name expire,

Or the game experience

spectacular levels of–

disacknowledgement .

At a certain point i realized that I had never heard the word ‘fuck' out of Seth Meyers' actual mouth.

This is levels, man.

Please explain to me this series.

*shrugs*

I can't.

[he walked away]

GOOD.

I tell you,

I'm not going anywhere near The Rockefeller Plaza

In anything less than my awful, irrelevant, and absolutely mediocre

do-not-mind-me and pay-no-attention deficit to—

Maybe anything i'm saying, because believe me

Tomorrow:

Whatever tomorrow is,

It's changing.

I only came here to delay my suicide maybe by at least one day further.

I could hope for a laugh, but an honest one would take better,

Than all the mechanics in the world, and maybe even —

Some sort of heroic gesture,

On my own part,

As you know,

I've got to be going.

Tainted.

Damaged.

TINA FEY

He's a little bit–

We think he may be,

special, maybe…

SUDAKIS

He's retarded.

Hey!

No, literally.

What! Come on!

All thumbs.

What the fuck does that mean, anyway?

*two thumbs down*

What is the plot of this, anyway?

I don't know anymore. I'm either adding to my portfolio or my suicide letter.

Pretty fancy suicide letter.

(It was a pretty fancy suicide.)

There's a deadline.

Did you catch any of these?

Hey look; I've got my own interpreter.

Why are we codeswitching?

We're always codeswtiching.

Why aren't they codeswitching?

They're the code.

Who wrote this programming?

If you tell me that this–

Astrophysicist.

Astrophysis–wait, what?

I told you don't fuck with Fallon! period!

Very heavy emphasis on the delay in negotiating these terms.

What do you make of it?

Nothing. I'm just-

Nothing?

That's it. He's ending me.

Just like that.

Just like that!

Are you serious?

It's his game. I'm just in it.

“Pawns”

This, is the most powerful man in television.

Why.

You'll see.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

Now, for a moment—

Do me a favor and imagine for a second—

Just for a second,

That someone,

Anyone—

Who?

Haha

Shut up.

Had read your writing

What writing.

Any of it.

Ok…

—before you arrived at Rockerfeller Plaza.

…which time.

Any time.

Oh.

That's right…I had been writing for years before I ever even stepped foot inside The Rock, even one time.

THE ROCK

Let's just say “30 Rock”

But is it technically like

24-58 Rockerfeller Plaza.

RADIO CITY, MANHATTAN, NEW YORK, NEW YORK.

So this is how many radio towers exactly?

All of them.

And how many satellites?

All of them.

And how many antennas.

All of them.

All of them.

All of them—that matter.

Which ones don't matter?

EXT. THE ARCTIC CIRCLE. WHENEVER.

AN IMPORTANT LOOKING BUSINESS MAN IN A SUIT ARRIVES

CUT BACK TO

CUT BACK TO

A GROUP OF ESKIMOS HAVE DISCOVERED A LARGE RADIO TOWER HAS BEEN PLACED IN THE CENTER OF THE TUNDRA.

The antenna begins to blink.

>< >< >< >< ><

CUT BACK TO:

…was that a stupid question?

I had fasted so long that l had begun to see ghosts, spirits dressed as Angeles, and, well…

It was strange to think that this place, wherever weeks of fasting and praying and driving and climbing mountains living out of your car takes you to, was when this revelation occurred to me.

Jimmy Fallon.

I— what?

Jimmy Fallon.

It must have been about four weeks, because, it was by the end of this week that the layout of Los Angeles, California had completely changed and been altered. Nothing was where I left it.

This is the labra tar pits.

[actual tar pits]

Not to mention I had somehow, from atop a perch at Elysian park, also witnessed the construction of Dodgers Stadium—

If my body is here, then where is my mind?

If this is the mind, then where actually is the body?

Simply put, and by the end, nearly everyone and everyone on earth had vanished, besides myself—

Jimmy Fallon.

There was no Jimmy Fallon here—

Just whispers of a name,

Remnance of an idea.

An idea's which might have once been a person,

But now,

Simply wasn't.

It was just one, singular; never having been wasted on anything,

Dollar bill.

FUCK, man, how am I supposed to keep telling this story?!

I don't know.

I'm real pissed off I can't find the scene with the coffee mug.

I'm pretty sure it's hot cocoa.

Whatever.

Cause why would it be coffee?

Why would it not be malt liquor in a fucking coffee mug if we're talking about Jimmy Fallon?

Why would it be malt liquor and not at the very least like a chocolate liqueur with a hint of baileys.

Because we're talking about Jimmy Fallon .

Are you sure he's an alcoholic!?

For the record!

So, just reiterating we'v established here that

The real Jimmy Fallon

The Actual Jimmy Fallon

And

The Regular Jimmy Fallon

Are entirely certainly—

Three seperate guys.

Sure, for the record.

Are you sure he's not.

I hope he's not.

Why!

Cause I like him.

WHY!

Idk. He just keep showing up—randomly, and at very odd moments.

So!

So I got used to him—being around.

Yikes.

Not around—just.

Oh, I get it, he's dead.

He's not dead, he's downstairs.

fuck.

Well, I almost didn't think about it.

No. There is no Jimmy Fallon.

Meat.

Waaaahhhhh???!!?

It's an all meat sandwhich.

What do you mean

It's like an Italian BMT

What.

Without the—

Bread.

Yes, exactly.

It's just meat.

Gross.

No, this is gross.

What.

You told me

No fakies.

You told me to come up with a sandwhich which embodied “The Jimmy Fallon Brand“

And—?!

AND I DID THAT

This is a VEGETARIAN EGG MCMUFFIN.

It's NOT, ITS A JIMMY FALLON—

But you just couldn't connect with that.

Connect the dots.

I gotta get out of town .

So, you mean—

This TV host thing is a full time job.

Pretty much.

Where are the models?!

Whooooo neeeeds models, when you've got

PAGES.

Woah, hoes.

Those are the 2024 NBC pages.

Why are their skirts so short.

I know.

Why… are their shoes so ugly—

To distract from the fact that they're allowed to wear those skirts!

I guess.

You're racist.

No, I'm ugly but—

WHY ARENT THERE ANY BLACK PAGES.

Oh, there are.

Oh yeah?! WHERE.

30 ROCKERFELLER PLAZA. OFFICES. DAY.

Humdala-humdala-humdala-hmmmmmm—

Humdala-humdala—hmmmmm

Goddammit. What is this dude's pre show ritual.

Yo. Give me the keys to the Hellicopter.

No.

Fine. I'll just take the push-to-start.

Ok, I'm coming.

(Eventually, we'll get back to Seth Meyers)

Why is he important.

Cause I—

Let's just be honest,

I don't understand this.

Why.

Ahem.

Why is it that—

No matter where I am,

In the various multidimentional planes,

I am reachable by

Jimmy Fallon.

I don't know.

This has something to do with Jesus, doesn't it?

Don't ask me about my brother. I don't know what he's into—or where he goes when he's not.

Parasailing.

Ah .

Paraphrasing.

Ok.

Parasite.

*ing.

Wait. I am not a parasite.

I'm not taking anything from Jimmy Fallon.

…am I!

what the fuck exactly just happened.

What do you mean.

The…propeller seems to have stopped working.

Yes, it did.

Why are we not free falling rapidly.

Oh, we are.

CUT TO:

A HELLICOPTER FALLING RAPIDLY FROM THE SKY

oh dear GOD—

CUT BACK TO:

A helicopter is suspended in midair, appearing to be frozen.

I'm so fucked. I'm so fucked. I'm so fucked.

I know what you did Fallon.

No you don't!

Sucks to be you! I so do know what you did.

Even if you do—/

And I also did it.

goddammit.

“Suspension of Disbelief”

WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!

look, I know how to be super skinny. I'm just not.

WHY.

Cause I like food!

Pretty windows,

Decent teachers—

Learning lessons,

Leaning in and,

Recent intermissions

Admissions to priestes,

And alter boys,

Insence smoke,

And—

I said I'd sign the prenuptial agreements!

What's in the —?

Prenuptual agreements.

…but…you have nothing.

I've always had nothing but, I've never had— him.

What?

Not until now.

That's not a man, that's a God–

(And)

That's not a Dog, that's a friend

Even if this is the end

We're just gonna do it again

(and again, and again)

Tell me;

What did you want?!

Did you get it?

Cause if not, you're gonna!

That's not a watch, it's a gun

(And it's going off!)

Pull the trigger-

You gotta.

Did you want it?

Did you wanna?

Moderation:

Marijuana

I'm not a God.

(I don't wanna)

–But I got all that I wanted

(I put the air in your lungs)

Fuck/

That's not a coincidence, is it?

That's not a coincidence.

(It never it)

Here's another one,

For your records

He's a writer

She's a–

I Liked him better off dead

(He was better off dead)

Pull the trigger–

Pull the trigger!

Well that's a

Whole lotta luggage

Lotta stuff that you bought at the

–I was just onto a

That's not a God,

That's a Goddess

(All locked up in the)

(open the door:)

That's not a God,

It's your mother!

( I wanted it)

I don't want anymore–

I can't write anymore songs

(But I got what I wanted)

That was not a coincidence.

If I look into your eyes, i'll die.

I'm a dead person.

I believe you.

Please don't make that face at me.

It's the only face i've got.

“Oh well”

With a shrug

Is i've ive got on

But there's no nonchaloncé

It's a problem

I don't wanna talk about it.

I don't wanna talk about it.

“In Retrospect, I should have lead with deportation.”

An Ear for Innuendo

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

Weeeelllll

This is about to make sense—

Isn't it?

Probably not.

Oh well, roll the tape.

L E G E N D S

what tape?

…

…hello?!

….

HELLO?

It's that time of the day

And the day of the week

Where my mind goes awry

(So long, sir)

And my heart starts making the wrong turns

Cross eyes, ten and two

[Atomic Number]

cross Eyes, ten and two

Cross your heart,

Or don't

(Goodbye, sir)

Goodbuy, good sir

I just bought a pony,

I want a fruit roll up

My internet due tomorrow

(Go finish the album)

I just want donut

Good morning

Hot topics

I've got much more to show for it than you're onto.

Than you're onto

Than you're onto—

Honest.

Don't stop there, dog.

(Atomic Number)

Thats no crosswalk

Purchase you for favors

For favors

For flavors

Four flavors, are there

But I've only got my whole eye on one of them

What up then

Don't call the number

Oh, God damn

Go run, Pharoh for you want an arrow out of your head

Free hand and heart

I thought I was a musician,

—I'm not though;

I stand 44 stories tall

When I stand right behind you,

Shadow.

Small man

I love McDonald's

I got a long hat

I got along swimmingly with your mom and dad, huh

Data

data projects and the atomic number

That's all folks

Data projects and those atomic numbers

Cosmic stardust, they all shook

They ain't lie, that's a hard pink turn purple

They ain't lie, God, that's a mellow yellow saxophone there—

They ain't lie, god, brought tear to an eye where there are no more,

Heart took a wrong turn

They ain't lie, God,

It is bright plumb

Are you in a black hole or what?

Are you shook for stars and all bout dollars?

Are you sure that had my name on it?

Are you sure, or are you all talk

All you sure, mom? Call the doctor.

Are you sure at all, at all, at all about what you all wrote

I'm on the 44th floor staring off, Dad.

Straining heard, though—

Had my eyes closed and my mouth sown permanently shut / sh it

Is that your industry or something?

Is that your window out my car door?

Is that your hand over no heart at all—

But a chest stuck out;

Bring you down real fast when I've been humbled.

Goddamn, when's this song over?

When they tell you about God, God

And all you do is turn your back, God,

Are you good, or bad, God,

If all I have is in this Target cart

So I crunch numbers,

Fall in black hole songs, atomic number—-

It's just that time of the day

And that day of the week where I call out

Into the sound stage

Reaching back,

Into my alter,

Rocks in my pocket

And one at the Plaza

One year only,

One whole summer

One whole novel,

10 movies, more songs,

Light candles and hard rock, Nirvana

Soft porn,

No dollar bills,

No ballers,

— I struck rules and struck diets,

Followed often around like I own something

I just might be,

What they call

—Ten more songs!

(A poet.)

—And a whole bunch of unfinished—

NO—

Cut to:

fade in/

Fade out—

Whose line is it anyway?

I ain't got no teleprompter!

Fresh out of water, and

Blocked from purchasing on Amazon market cause

Something is wrong with my name

Or observations I once made

About being scammed by the monopoly

Oh, polyamorous polyaddixt, polysexual

Polygons, on PolyGod,

God only—

God ain't lie,

It was plum,

Closed my eyes to confirm, God,

Can't conform, God.

Atomic

Number.

I can do ten more before sundown; before

I'm so over tired from espresso bean coffee,

All about a dollar, I was—

Everything I want in my target cart

So I sure don't,

For sure don't,

Ever, On God,

Have to walk in the supermarket on

Stuggle mode

Slow down, posh.

[The Festival Project ™]

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. ©

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-Ū.

Telesynthesis

Tell me why,

No matter how you mix and match these scenes,

They all make very exciting episodes.

That's just how it is.

{Enter The Multiverse}

Ah. more posters.

Double-Double.

//

L E G E N D S

I don't know who lied to you, buddy, but you are not white.

They lied to you, boy.

That boy ain't white.

Look at em.

He ain't white.

They lied to you.

Something like—

—a bicentennial bullet wound.

It can't be that bad. You're only 50x

I don't know what else to do about this other than prepare to die.

He said it would come on fast after this.

Who was he?

I don't know .

Hm,

Just—shut up!

Okay.

Shutup!

I got it, I got it…

Fuck, this dude is gonna kill me.

We can only hope that's what he plans to do.

Anything else, and I'm double-fucked.

Maybe quite literally.

I can't handle that.

Ii did have a good time a Bohemian Grove.

How do you even get tickets to that?

Early.

Goddammit, how did he do this?

Are you not like self aware of your own environment, or?

Not if I don't have to be, no.

Is everything okay over there?

Yeah, everything's fine?

Fuck, what happened?!

I don't know.

I fell asleep holding nothing; not stones at all, however, I awoke with The Illuminati Stone and one large rose quartz from a dream in which fly po

What if all I lost

Was a contact

And all you wanted

Was a daughter

What if our world's were opposite

I'm a rockstar

You got nowhere to run home to

You're not important

I got nothin but hot bodies

On my tour bus, or private jet

Whatever way we get to the stage

Where i'm playing

You're soaked in rain just thanking God for rainbows

Filled with pain

Plate filled with old food

From Whole Foods,

With no shame

“Hey. at least it's wholesome”

I'm holed up in my studio making music

With famous people and no names

I made famous

Playing a game that I made up

You don't even know the rules of

But if you learn them in time,

YOu might just be where I am

Or

You might just die

From sucicide–

That's the plan

Not like you have family, but you see

If I die

I might just take 5 lives with me

The limelight's tricky

All i got in my inbox is tits

And celebrities on my timeline

You don't mind:

You're just happy to see the sunshine

And find silence after a long day

And a long night

Trying to find life–

Cause so far you know you died

That's wild–

So did I,

IT took awhile to get to the other side though

Keep trying

JAGUAR

I HAVE NEVER DIED.

I'm telling you RIGHT NOW to TURN BACK.

TURN BACK? I've been walking in this direction THE WHOLE TIME.

EXACTLY.

I'm following you.

DON'T FOLLOW ME.

I'm f–

DON'T FOLLOW ME.

I knew i would never see her again.

Once i turned around it wasn't long before I realized, I had moved in the opposite direction, but was not in the same place I had been before–and I finally remembered.

You can't go backward.

But KA, you said time travels in all directions…

In Infinite directions.

What's the difference.

“All” is just ‘some' things. Infinite is everything.

Oh.

*sighs heavily again*

Ok. [beat] lets make fire again!

Make fire again?

Yes!

I thought you hated ‘making fire'

I did, but I like marshmallows.

Alright, marshmallows.

KU and YOUNG KA Flicker in the smoke and shadows of the firelight in a far and distant, dark cosmos, as constellations form around them, expanding outwards into galaxies beyond comprehension.

You want some?

No, I'm not fond of Marshmallows.

Lol

Lol

Lol.

WAKE UP.

Nooh.

I told you NOT TO FALL ASLEEP.

Now you have to start over.

NO.

Noh

I wasn't asleep! I barely nodded off.

Clock starting.

First of all, I told you.

Dillon Francis is a Psychopath.

I know that.

Because i told you that.

I already knew that.

How could you possibly know.

Just look at him.

[Dillon Francis]

But I got you now, buddy.

What did he do to you?

[pause] –He killed my cat.

He killed you cat?!

[beat] Well, no, but–

???

Something Like That.

I'm gonna have a heart attack.

PLease don't.

HeART attack.

Mm. That was good. But it needs more force.

More?

Put some *love* in it.

What's that? *shrugs*

HeART ATTACK.

What the fuck is he doing.

PLaying with one of his alter egos.

Jesus Christ. How many are there.

Who really knows.

What are you two dipshits doing.

NOthing.

Training.

Training!

No.

*eyes*

You can't train yourself.

Woah–

Woah, woah–

That's an insult

Both, exactly the same

We are not the same.

Jinx.

Go fuck yourself.

*looking at watch*

Not until 3.

*everyone stops and stares*

You schedule your jackoff calendar .

I'm very busy.

Obviously not busy enough.

It's called “building stamina”

Do you use “home” or “work” for that.

I use candidly.

Yikes.

Wow.

Anyway, this scene is running long; I gotta walk off screen and say something clever, for continuity.

But it's only 2:15!

If you're not early, you're late!

I hate him.

So does everybody.

If you cry one more time,

I'll actually kill you.

Put the gun away, dude.

Why?!

Cause you're crazy.

It's 5 AM.

Ok.

Take your shit and get off the toilet,

We have shit to do.

[beat]

FLUSH.

Royal flush

I win again.

Dammit.

This is not LOVE. This is just

LUST

AH, fuck it though,

I love these cunsluts.

COME OUT OF RETIREMENT.

No, not us.

I can do nothing but watch you suffer

—suffer the little children unto me

I can do nothing, but watch you suffer.

—suffer the little children unto me

I can do enough, but watch you alter

Suffer the children unto me

I can do nothing of earth, but of sun—

Suffer the children unto me

Riding through Brooklyn

With Yelawolf bumpin

I should be thumping to something else but

I never got the trunk to open

Nope, I was fucked up some

Broke girl summer

Broken girl summer

Surfs up, though

Copestetic,

I am

Don't stop writing

(I tried)

Intuition

I died

Whoever

I am

Exit Bedstuy

So far behind,

I'm ahead

What's that like

Left the pary,

Fuck that line

Partly cloudy with a chance o

Get UP.

Nah, I'm fine.

For the most part—

I just

When does this train stop?

For the most part—

Where the fuck do I get off this ride?

I guess I don't

For the most part

Sure,

I miss my mom but

Some days she's up

And the others

GET OUT OF MY HOUSE.

HOW?!

I will literally FLY you out, just

———————————————-//—-wait, come back.

Wait, you can't just cut the strings like that

That's amazing lady

(She painted like a Mercedes)

The second rule of time travel

Since you're clearly a rule breaker

2. Don't get hit by anything moving not fast enough to kill you

Entirely and completely

A fuck, which Brooklyn is this?

JUST—time TRACWL

BAMANAS.

(William H. Macy is SIR, now)

*face*

Ok, I'm cool with that.

Better hold that thought—

And your phone

Why what's up,

Cause I can hear my train a coming.

JIM(I)

Well, I guess this is it.

Are you sure

Almost

Yeah, I'mmma get this real quick.

I AM A GOD.

No, yur not.

RICK! GET DOWN FROM THERE

WAIT, you CC saw this movie, right?

Where IS your center of balance, anyway?

It's not.

GET DOWN, KITE.

——aaaaand—

ITS GONE.

Let's just be real, I don't know how this happens.

Best keep it that way,

Now whose hot and toxic?

I'm the talk of the catwalk

The cause of the kamikaze

Come for me

Suddenly my nausea's gone

Imma run off,

Like I should have the first time

I'm up

LUKE SKYWALKER

I'm LUKE SKYWALKER.

Bitch.

It's hard to believe

That I, too,

Could be in the window

This could be an innuendo

This could be an instrumental

We should get going

Go to work

Fuck, am I still in a movie or some shit

Or some shit.

Fuck the glasses,

See my face for this

IT WANTS BANANAS

GIVE IT BANANAS

GIVE IT WHAT IT WANTS M

PLEASE HELP ME.

*with a monocle*

*running fingers grubbily*

For how much.

*grimaces-*

Wow, they really picked this little girl out,

Just to pig party you

I know.

So where the fuck is this again?

EXT. HELLS KITCHEN

I DONT THINK HE's a good man

No,

I don't think he's a good man at all, now

All I see's a child,

And that's why

It's just getting wilder it here

Now I'm in the water

(I can't drown)

We all need a savior

How about now?

How about a round of applause

For the audience

That watched the whole performance

And don't know what the words to the song were

Right on.

Tell me why

American girls just

Get too cynical bout this.

Why so hypocritical?

We got A+ in robotics

Now we got

Animal Products in

All of our water

We got Islam R US in

Jansport backpacks

That's how you rat out these assholes

That is a terrorist practice

So who's gonna watch that shit

Over and over

And wish he could have that?

So

Whose in the water now

Once you cheat once,

Then it's all

Void after that

The God of the void is annoyed with you

I just anointed you all with oil

You're so fucking disappointing

It's just

Innapropriate

Well, turn it off, then!

Did you work today?

Guess not,

I'm too useless

We work, you know.

Your music is stupid.

That's how good you look:

Music producer

No words for this.

Here.

What.

I want you to carry this.

Mariah, or Jim?

Got it.

OK.

OK.

OK, YOU WIN.

That's RIGHT,

STUPID BITCH.

I'm o—

Fuck that little dick nigga

Broh God bless Jah Pharoh living up to his last name by reminding me that I also need to run.

True facts.

WHATS IN THE BOOOOOOOOWWLLLLL—

Ing green?

More dead people.

Please, if you would.

Eats—people?!

Onlympurple—ones.

Are you serious!?

CUT TO COMMERCIAL. CUT TO COMMERCIAL.

Ok, damn.

Wait, so how long do I gotta be—

Everybody.

Till it ends.

When's the—

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. ©

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-Ū.

What's In the box though?

Idk. Get in.

Blue eyes, it is.

I wish, I wish,

Be careful what you wish for,

Or cook in a Petri dish

The world is a stage,

The people a plague

The magic was gone,

The days were the same.

[The Festival Project ™]

Blonde hair, blue eyes;

Live once, lose twice—

Brown skin, brown eyes

Die inside.

(Or just die.)

{Rewind}

Captain

Captain!

Oh, Good, come in, Cannon.

You've—changed.

…as you know, Monday we disembark.

Yes, I'm aware.

And as you know, the details of the mission have been classified, even to us.

Yes.

I find that alarming. And so, without anymore thought I've decided to masquerade as my old self.

How old are you, anyway?

You should never ask a woman her age, LT.

Sargent. * or the other way around, I clearly don't know.

Sorry. Your recent promotion keeps slipping my mind; I…haven't been myself lately…

Obviously not, if you've decided to publicly dress like that.

I'm still very much in the privacy of my office.

You can consider me the spokesperson on behalf of the public.

Never as a woman her age!

You're not a woman; you're my captain.

We'll see about that after tonight.

Being a woman, or being my captain?

Both, probably.

Hm.

By any chance would you be interested in joining me?

As your subordinate, or as a man.

Both, probably.

Or neither… presumably.

As my escort.

I beg your pardon.

I've been known to become rather out of sorts in this condition.

—er, your condition, captain?

Dead drunk and blind with fear out of my mind.

[he ponders for a moment, knowing that the mission could very well be their last.]

Consider it done.

Great. Get dressed, and meet me with the car out front in half an hour.

Half an hour?

Sharp. Bonus points for showing up early.

We're earning points?

We are now.

Very well then. What am I wearing?

Something sharp.

Sharper than the inside of a half hour.

On your mark.

I'll—see you soon.

He exits the captain's office, letting out a sigh of relief otherwise previously congested, he looks around as if not to be caught, regains his composure with the shake of his head, somewhat in disbelief of what he's witnessed. He casually places his hands in his pockets, walking down the hall and passing one of his crew mates, who quickly stops to salute him.

Sergeant.

Almost forgetting to salute back, mindlessly drifting passed in ‘off' mode, he slowly and squarely, almost still casually, salutes back.

Oh.

I had glimpsed at a picture of the man once more that had forced me to wonder— “Jesus Christ, is he okay?” It would be odd to think of a man who has spent a better part of the last two decades and most of his careers on camera as unphotogenic, then again—I had been tricked by the media before into thinking a certain way, and therefore was cautious, and still—I began to wonder about the man and his misery, and his mistresses—not out of jealousy or obsession, but simply because I knew he had them. He was old Hollywood, or old New York—or maybe a bit of both, and there was something about it all, perhaps even my own darkness, that danced with the flicker of sinful lust that motioned me towards not a yearning, or the act of doing so—I was at least wise enough to know nothing good could come from doing harm to oneself or another— but with the intensity of burning desire to know the man behind the mask—the actor inside the actor, to whom all the world's a stage.

Whatever, though. Doesn't matter.

At least I was still somehow youthfully resilient to what might have otherwise been torture,

TVP

S2- after Esha's promotion to head writer.

DAEMON DALLAS, aka “DASH” is a quick witted, fast-talking comic powerhouse— his legendary stand up and acting career has made him a legendary force in movies, film, and television; he has been booked on the show to sit down with his longtime friend Patrick about his new stand up comedy tour.

—

Who's this beautiful sister.

My head writer; don't even think about it.

I dont think. I just do.

Esha approaches— Dash politely bo s and kisses Esha's hand

Should I get tested?

—and funny.

Against Patrick's wishes, Esha accepts a date with daemon dash, furious Patrick means to interrogate her

Why would you even date that asshole

Because—Pat. He's a comedian.

I'm a comedian! So?

So, he's funny.

And?

And he said things to me—

What kind of things

Charming, funny things—

Okay?

Things he wouldnt say to you over dinner— because, I'm

—you're a woman.

—and your head writer. So naturally.

Esh, you're a genius,

So is he. We have—some new material to work through.

Ahq!

Your monologue tonight.

Oh yes. Oh yes.

You can thank me later. Broken bottles. :9'd one stop her

Walkin walking

God knows I don't belong here

And I don't want to

Passover was April 21-30

Global War on Terrorism

Aka WWIII

Oh, indeed.

Don't look left

Take a deep breath

My heart beats differently

I think it might be the end

I think it might be

I think I might be the enemy

The pushing mechanism

When i breath him in

I levitate

And gravitate to what it meant

The sake of the art,

The hurt of the heart

As sacred as it ever was

The turning or the Torah talks of

Gestures, since the fall of Rome

The toga on the alter

Solid hands unwrap us all

From falling over

Old and awkward

No award for wisdom

No rest for the wiser

No love for the troll

Since thunder struck from under us,

Delivered all but what we wanted

So we talk of karma sutra,

Surely we can't talk at all

Of what we know

As once was bonded

Laughed it off

To come from what

The call to us,

Fair serve governors fortress

I work up in mentions

Carved the scarlet letter out of

Cannons, of course

MA.

WHAT. I'm BUSY.

ITS ON.

The what?

The show we watch!

The one that—

YES,

Oh, my GOD.

Yes.

YESSSSSSSSS.

Usnavi, get your popcorn

This is some worth watching

Up in arms for forwards

Causing sore arms,

Numb thumbs

From crucifixes

Are you wondering what God

Would walk about the horned carving

A kamazake walk of tall corn—

Follow me, dear mantra

Your whole house is watching.

Sacre.

It's happening again isn't it.

I do want ice cream.

All I need is a divorce

And an Amazon woman 10 foot tall

To rub me off at the stroke of

Nevermind what the clock says

In God's house they're all wrong

The blsphomoous for Catholics

Has begun,

So strum your number into the teleprompter

And just hope no one gets hurt

By the hook on the next song

—like the hook of my last surviving bra

digs into my back does,

Or the skin on my lack of tummy

Has rubbed off under the suicide

Of the cycle—

It's getting tighter

A loss of interest is equal to

A loss of conciousness

And I'm 21 days drunk

On the alternate, though—

I'm sober and feeling less

Loved.

The animal I've become is all cardio

And karma sutra

For karma comes

To the weak of heart

To use the world as swords

To cause harm

To the calm artists

I thought I told you off once.

(Already)

You look awful.

lol.

You look terrible, broh.

But my album sound fire.

#producerholes

[portal]

It's coffee time!!

It's not coffee time!

It's not coffee time.

Iiiiits coffee time.

Damn.

Where's the cat.

Gestating.

My phone was never the first thing I reached for in the morning—but I was sure there was something missing in my mind from a place in LA that I used to frequent, that sold giant frosted cookies that were also vegan. There was donut friend, which I always enjoyed and craved—but I was sure—absolutely sure that I was missing a m cookie, and it was absolutely driving me wild that I couldn't think of the place, or find it on Google. Has it been before turning vegan? Was my memory failing me in thinking that the cupcakes and donuts that I had often brought back to the hostel in boxes were timetimes cookies also? It seemed like there were cookies…and I'm sure that there were, as I could remember the thick frosting often being sweet and decadent enough to lick from the top, and that the bottom cookie was sweet and soft, and usually warm—and that I almost always couldn't finish the cookie in one sitting. Had this all been before I went vegan? I was sure I distinctly remembered sitting atop my bunk at The Freehand savoring this cookie, but a google search yeikded no results—none that I could find familiar, and it bothered me so much that I actually decided to start my day just on the tip of figuring out what it was was.

As I crossed through my apartment, realizing I hadn't bothered to throw the trash out after mopping and went m directly to bed early, not with the consideration of rising early but really just out of exhaustion, I had decided that in order to get work done that my workouts would have to be pushed toward the end of my day, somewhere between still having the energy to manage and not being disturbed—as I had seen that girl to at I very specifically didn't like again m, I had realized that again, I was correct— even after an hour of working out, I simply didn't like her energy. There must have been something wrong with her—or incompatible about us altogether; she had come into the gym quietly and was sort of hiding and even still, I had instantly recognized that there was a foreign energy—and squinting to see her, saw that she was crouched on the other side of the gym. I dismounted the stationary bike and figured that an hour of cardio would be enough for the time. Strength training would only force me to crave protein—-and I was running low saving everything that I had in order to better strategize an arrangement which didn't leave me at the bottom of New York's merciless barrel. It seemed I wasn't going to get the job at Equinox after all—it had been nearly a week since my interview with them, and having not heard anything back, I realized that everything, no matter what—was always just a game. I needed to figure out how better to play it before my life ended abruptly on some sort of whim.

Sitting down in the darkened bathroom, I realized that in order to restore and keep my energy, I should be unseen, and unheard.

‘Keep your head down.'

I'm sure there was some type of code or rule for the way I should handle myself in public or even in private all well knowing the types of things I had writtten about, let alone which had been published—and while I planned to clear out what written works had made it into cyberspace unchecked, there was nothing less important to me than the actual world, what it expected of me, or who was in it. I hadn't entirely failed yet, but I also hadn't entirely succeeded, and after a strange series of dreams— almost all of them more interesting than the one with the cookie, (mentioning that the reason I had been curious about the cookie in the first place was from a strange series of dreams)

“Ohhh, you know what—that might have actually been that place in Vegas, before I went vegan.”

The boxes at the freehand must have been all from donut friend and Sprinkles—and it astonished me how much of a sweet tooth I actually had which was sort of now quite well managed. There was no sugar or even salt in the house— and with the lack of food that I actually had in my apartment, for at least something like the next two weeks, I was sure that I'd reach minimum weight—absolutely minimum weight— by the turn of the month. That is, all the weight I could lose betsides what needed to be surgically removed, and there was some sort of plan formulating somewhere outside of myself in exactly how that would be achieved. Because at any rate—I knew that it would.

There were no more cookies, no more donuts, and no more cupcakes, besides the occasional box of the frozen type I had ordered from Amazon fresh which I did thoroughly enjoy, almost always in one sitting after a wild amount of cardio had implemented a faster metabolism and brought me to the realization that so much cardio meant that entirely that I could eat ‘whatever in the fuck I wanted' without gaining any weight or even losing it—and as I stepped up to take a shower, pulling my shirt up and over my chest, I inspected my abdomen, though holding bloat from pinto beans and deep fried sweet potatoes, still toned with the definition lines I had only just now learned that I had, creviced and notations of my sometimes 4 or 6 pack abs, though hidden under the sagging skin of my once maternal belly— still evident at all, and a factor of my minimal pride in that I had gone in one lifetime from one body and into many others— and one day, an even more drastically different one.

I fantasized owning a peloton but realized that I may have to settle on a rental until I had outfitted myself with some sort of safety net.

lol there's a sweet potato emoji. wtf.

I don't know how you did this but—

I woke up.

Apparently, I'm Lorne Michaels.

Please stop.

I don't know what that means.

You know what

If I was pretty

Nobody would hate me for anything

I swear to God only ugly people are punished or any or all of our matings.

I lost the ability to see worth in myself.

I also lost the ability to write good songs.

Just let me watch bad girls club

And wait for the motorcycles

To make my night

A living hell

“I didn't mean for this to happen, Jimmy Fallon. “

It was a whisper, actually— less than that, as I set the stone with the others above the amulet— I placed easch crystal carefully at the alter, keeping only two of them for myself; the rest, as guardians to the amulet. I could no longer keep such a relic around my neck; it had become quite heavy, and the dreams had become deep and more illusive, and it seemed there was some dark spirit along to it after all—and after all— the amulet was my only living son's, anyway, intended as a gift and charm of protection for when I next saw him—whenever that could be, or would be. It had been a long and interesting but altogether uneventful year, and now, not even feeling right in my own self, I intended to continue hiding, and perhaps even burrow further away until I was granted a full and proper divorce; my ex husband using his refusal to sign the papers as a final act of control, and though I almost found it admirable, I only became more dismissive of it—the person I was then, simply was no more; in fact, she was dead enough indeed that to disappear and become a ghost could do no worse than to further alter the course of time and distance it would take to ever become in such a way again—that is, if it were infinite, and for peace of mind and freedom of spirit and soul from bondsge, insisted it wasn't.

It was less than a whisper enough that none other besides God could have heard it, and yet it seemed something or someone had—as a door quickly slammed as the words—words which meant a name I was sure I would never say again—“Jimmy Fallon” left my mouth. I couldn't come close to words at all let alone a name, and especially not a song; but then, of course, there was The Book of Knowlege never to have been spoken and as always, the ever moving truth of songs— There were other Gods that new no words at all besides the melodies and rhythms of our hearts—and there never really was every truly a Jimmy Fallon at all—

Only myself.

Whatever the fuck.

Alright, alright.

It was next in the que with purpose, probably but quite on accident— Now I could continue in my pattern of dulling my brain for the remainder of the night as I had been all day. Since March I had seemed to cry what I thought were the rest of my tears, and however, after a particularly mind numbing day of trash television and Olympic surfing, it seemed the ocean alone was enough to pull from what was left of my soul, and as it turned out, it still was there.

I was bored of the brokenness of New York—something like living in a rotten and spoiled toy, with the limits I had been given—and though I should have been happy, to finally just have my own place— the people surrounding, as always, ruined it—

Them being myself aside. I wished the things outside of me were quieter.

Now I could finally almost put my mind out of focus for just a little bit longer—and creep on Johnny Depp without doing it intentionally. I had stopped looking up famous people, besides some women and businessmen I knew could never feign my interest anyway. It was never about money— and always about creative intelligence; I hadn't seen the movie as an adult, and so I was sure it would have some insight to offer. I tried to forget that I had aged out of almost everything—and that my mother had so greedily destroyed any real chance I had at becoming what I might have been with anybody else as a mother—or at least some one around to watch her raise me and correct her damaging actions, words, and harsh thoughts. At least she had taught me to read and write—and if worst actually came to worse—which it was starting to look like—how to trade my body and time in exchange for things I wanted and needed. All women were nearly prostitutes in some way, anyhow—and the only thing deterring me from it was on every honest God I ever thought of, the fact that white women made more in sex work than colored women did.

— it almost hurt to watch Olympic surfing.

Actually, it did.

It hurt, a lot.

What's a girl

Have you ever had a girl before?

What's world when you're wound up in an orphanage

Probably astounding

I've got a shadow

Sad, should have danced with him

Now he's so mad that

—I don't even touch my guitar

No more

I have words

No songs

The whole world's

At war

And to surf

— you need water

I love

New York

But hate

Thus corner of Brooklyn

I want to go up

Testosterone

—I've got a word for the goner

“Gonzo”

I've got a cannon

Or blonde, for reference

Why were all stalkers

I'll book The Tonight Show,

I'll summon up Carson

A ,

I promise—

A good time was had

—I promise, no subtle obsession.

I made a decision, I went with it

Just a protagonist, actor—

A comic

Producer, by marriage

I swear,

It's just adding up evidence

If ever gets intensities

Offensive, this illumination

— I don't doubt you.

I want chocolate milk

What even is that?

I've been eating healthy

I've got half an album out

And half inside my head

With Donnie Brasco

I've got half a million dollars somewhere

Stuffed inside my cunt, I think

With hallmark cards and shopping carts

I owe them half a fortune

I hate it so much

I watch a whole soul

Come out if television

I love it so much

But I hate the whole public

And crowding

I don't want love

I want fucks

I want puppies

—Jesus he's beautiful

My ex husband had similar facial structure to

Mr Depp respectively,

I'm guessing my artistry,

Intention,

A preteen obsession at least sort of paid off.

Somehow.

Now it's my eyes on the other, the older

—

The way that he sits and does nothing but slump

—Al Pacino, they call him?

The false father and forced profits often acknowledged

The love of the old and weathered.

For once I woke up to a record

33 rotations a minute

{Enter The Multiverse}

—what are you gonna do?

Blondes and shit.

The best of the best—

—I'll tell ya,

I recommend it

(Recommended by a Friend)

I have a headache twice my age.

I made a mistake half my life ago

Woke up this morning

Bought myself a gun

To make it right

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

The Complex Collective. ©

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ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

{Rewind}