[Fight Facilities]

I can't fall for this again— Another rich and handsome man— A dream he wants to be my friend A dream he wants to hold my hand Oh look, Another dance for anthem Look, I'm just another fan No, I can't fall for this again —but they would go against the plan A simple programming error, Lips the color of a pomagranite Circle on the palm, And then , of course, We press the center And look, here we are again Another life, Another love A new wife— Another husband Honest? I'm just good with fucking —aha I just want to fuck you I got love, but what it good for Look at me, or look at nothing! Look, I'm just good with fucking Check the news for new engagements Fucking sick and fucking tragic Nothing more than actors, DJs, drinks and addicts Look, I'm just a happy accident— I still hate Dillon Francis And I never wanted Skrillex: That shit never even happened! Have you had enough yet?! Carrot cake does sound good Ten karat long engagement ring— Is that a lot? I'm just a homeless Look, I'm just another DJ Some fake model stole it Some would call it occult Magic —honest? I just want some dick, man Fuck it —aha I just want to fuck you I got love, but what it good for Look at me, or look at nothing! Look, I'm just good with fucking You know why you like me?! Yes, I know why I like you— Cause I'm rich! —no, actually—it's because you're smart. Where in the fuck are you going? I don't know yet. Well, know faster—we have company. Fuck. Destroy every bit of evidence. Ok. —and make sure nobody sees you. Yeah, right! YO. Why the fuck are you here, Timmy? I told you, I'm not Timmy. I don't give a fuck who you are—where's my money? It's— it's on the way, I promise. I'm don't take well tk promises, Timmy. What do you take well to? Money. FUCK. What! FUCK, FUCK, FUCK! What?! We're too late, she's gone! Goddammit. —She was already here! FUCK. FUCK. FUCK! >>> FUCK! How do you know? —there's glitter, everywhere. Is it gone? It's gone? ALL OF IT. TIMMY TRUMPET plays a SKRILLEX. Etto, Timmy?! Oh shit, another Timmy. That's weird. I was just thinking he about Skrillex. Why. Timmy, put a shirt on. That's it. What. You can't be hot and play the trumpet. Why. One thing's gotta go. THE DEVIL takes away Timmy Trumpet's ability to play the trumpet. WHAT. Can't have both. Well, I don't really need both now, do I? When I'm in a tough spot I have to listen to deadmau5 —something about the precision and frequencies out my brain somewhere between auropilot and dead space. I don't know. I've done just about everything you can think of listening to deadmau5. Almost. But, I noticed— Working out to deadmau5 is strange. It puts me in some kind of vibration where people notice me— Not just notice me. People are suddenly “impressed” with whatever it is I'm doing. And it's usually something regular as fuck— I'm just doing it to deadmau5. And for some reason, people are like “Wooooow!!” Okay, whatever. I used to work out to Skrillex. Actually. I used to work out to only Skrillex. I don't know if its just because I was fat, or cause I liked Skrillex. Now its like running a serrated knife up my spine. I started to figure out I was kind of famou— Kind of— When I showed up at the gym and Skrillex songs kept coming on I'm like “This is what I get for doing nothing but free trials” But hey, You try finding a gym in the shitty areas of New York worth paying for. It's very hard. The crazy thing about this story is— There's a lot of crazy things about this story, actually. EXT. BASKETBALL COURT. DAY. Alright— shirts and skins —Shirt—Skin Shirt,Skin— Uhh! Nah. I wanna be “shirts” Why dude?! Your girl's mad hot! So?! So I know you got it goin on! Look at you! I'm mad rich! Yeah—but girls always cheat on flabby rich dudes! With hotter dudes. My girlfriend might be cheating on me! Yeah—She's not, though. How do you know? Cause I tried! Yeah. Take your shirt off. No—uh! How do you know she's just not into you! Because! He tried— HE tried! You sell out. And Andre tried— [ANDRE is tall (about 6'9 dark, and handsome] —you too, bro? [ANDRE shrugs nonchalantly] That's an NBA player— What the FUCK, YO. —and she said NO. ANDRE Yup. Shot me down. Oh really—from all the way up there?! Face it, man! You're fuckin hot! I don't like the way that sounds coming from you— Take your shirt off! Were you this aggressive with my girl?! Don't be like that… Nah— fuck you! Yo! C'mon, man— And you three! You're holding up the game getting mad over nothing. It's Hollywood! It's Beverly Hills! —Exactly my point! You're new here—you'll catch on. You know what! I'm shirts—you're skins—Game on. [SUNNI BLU goes beast mode and plays the dirtiest, most whoopass game in history—out of spite and anger of the toxic masculinity; this of course earns SUNNI BLU even more respect as a “man's man”] Later: as the owner of the clippers, sunni BLU trades “Andre” to the worst basketball team in history. For, As soon as the moon is full, She also begins to wane— And as sure as we are to shine, We also fade away I had one slice of red velvet cake, one slice of cheesecake—which of course only reminded me of Sonny Moore—the decadent, delicious red velvet—and Dillon Francis—the spiced and ecclectic trademark carrot cake—if only not to sooty the pain of joe much I wanted both of them, but probably didn't need them—how I craved them so, but they probably weren't good for me, nor would they last— —but they would both be delicious, anyhow. The seagull said. “To the sea, we go!” Overhead, he flies As the day goes by me Idly, I wait— I could take a ride, But i'd rather be By myself, By my… INT. EMPIRE ENPANADAS. NIGHT You gonna order? What you got? Empanadas. Just empanadas? —Yeah. Okay, that's weird. Lol the only thing funny about this scene is that their New York accents are so atrociously heavy. Right. —weird. INT. SUBWAY STATION. DAY. Sunni BLU is passed out in the subway station. Ew… Yeah, my god. Wait—is that— —sunni?! SUNNI drunkenly groans. Sunni! Get up! Ughhhh. What are you doing?! I'm drunk. I know that. You're always drunk. Yeah. What are you doing here. What. In the subway. I do this sometimes. What. For what?! You never know who you're gonna meet. In the subway On the floor?! YeH! I met R- Kelly down here! What! When was this Not at this station, though, but yeah. To think, It was all just an awful game, to make you write more songs— And in the end, if you don't make the cut They just make you kill yourself, anyway. Love isn't real, but money is; And all men want is money, So they can buy the love— And all women want is love— But it has to come with money Or it all just falls apart It all just falls apart It all just falls apart “Illuminatus”, Open, close Illuminaudio, for starters Cross a crucifix for sons, and wanted daughters What's a brother to a sister— Or a mother to a father? What's a stop sign to a car, If no one's driving? In the end, they kill you off In the end, they kill you off With every cough, they kill you off— But there's always another Who wants to be a star— Or just The mother of his child, Maybe both Genetic lotto luck —the cut off. Agatha… A far cry, out into the distance–a wind, almost a whisper; A lover, long gone and almost since forgotten, unseen since the very dawn of time and first ever glimpse of light– …We Meet Again. FUCK. WHAT IS THIS. I know, man. FUCK. Fuck. Well, are you gonna tell this story or not? This isn't possible. It is possible. This isn't happening. – This dude has a radio tower in his front yard. That's his front yard?! I fucking guess. What is that. That's a satilite. Nice. Yep. Alright, you son of a bitch. Hey! My mom's nice! Not that nice–bringing you here. How do you know that's how I got here? Exactly my point. [cocks pistol slowly.] You're dead, mouse. OH. I GET IT. kill that motherfucker. Wait. Hold up. Hold the phone! Holding. How did we get to this point? I mean– a few ways. What are you watching. SHH. Wedon'tknow. SHHH. OK! SHHHHHHH! IT' getting good. Ya. It's getting deeper. So much deeper. WAit. … Who are you? I'm a fan. No. How did you get in my house? It's my house. It's– –no. No, it's not. YEs. this is my house. No. What. GEt out. SHH. What. DUde– No. Ze show is on and it is getting one deeper. Be quiet. IT's getting two deeper. –like nine deeper. SHHH. Oh, I get it. She really wants to fuck Dillon Francis. #FuckDillonFrancis Uh, no– I already did that. Gross. Excuse me. You are excused! I mean, I beg your pardon. Please, don't beg. Er, uh– Could you repeat that last part? Woah, this gets multidimensional as fuck. I have a time machine. Are there any loopholes? There are loopholes. THere better be loopholes. Sorry, we're out. GodDAMMIT. What. I was really looking forward to those loopholes. Well, they're gone. FUCK. HEre, have some Oh-Noh's. I don't want– Just SHUT UP and EAT YOUR CEREAL. Don't worry–I'm still Team Skrillex. There are TEAMS?! Oh, yeah, bro. Oh, so–it is a love story. I don't think that's what this is. I'M GONNA MURDER YOU. Ok. WITH MY DICK. A-1. There's something I need to tell you. What. But i'm sworn to secrecy Then how am I supposed to– Just–shh– follow my lead. “The Magic Effect.” Did it work? Don't know yet. You nutted to this girl 36 times in the last 20 Calendar days. Ok… 36 Times. One Girl. 20 Days. …What's your point. This is ferocious. I have your entire internet history. All of it? Oh yes. All of it. Welp. Well. THat's it for me. I've had enough. There's no Skrillex Deepfake. Aw. that sux. Why would you look at this? …why not, though? You're a disturbed man. I'm pretty regular. REGULR TO WHO? *shrugs* Me, I guess. TURN THIS OFF. I can't take it anymore. Whatever happened to the– SHHH. Fuck. I'm so wasted. So what do you think is gonna happen? Listen. I have a lot to get through. THis is all just nonsense. I think we're avoiding some heavy subjects, here. Well, there are a lot of discrepancies. Kill yourself. I just did. Kill yourself–again. I–GodDAMMIT. Just do it. NO. Come on. Congratulations, you got the job! Yes! Thank you! …What's the job? I need you to get the fuck out of here in the next five seconds–before I blow my head off, and take you with me. Don't do that. Five… Yo, i'm serious. Four… Jesus Christ, dude. YOu don't think this hits a little close to home. Home? what is home? For the Record, Skrillex, Dillon Francis, and Deadmau5 respectively are all getting their dicks sucked on yachts right now in some foreign exotic country– You're not wrong. That is correct. Standard music business. And People are living in tents under bridges. I'm just saying. If you think this project is reckless and bizarre, check your own simulation. So. So. Where were we? Somewhere between blowing our heads off and getting our dicks sucked? I'm sure there's a striking correlation somewhere. ‘My Candle Burns At Both Ends…' Oh, More Occult Magic God Bless The Illuminati GOD I Am The Illuminati Glad that's settled. Three. Goddamit, don't do this. Two– [cocks pistol] Why just pistols. Cause shotguns are messy– –and for dramatic effect; I love that sound. [the other party quickly removes his handgun from his waistband, shooting the other man and then himself quickly; They now both lay dead.] How do I write this Just write it. I need adderall. You need Jesus. By goD, youre right. [iPhone] What are you doing? Calling on Jesus. Are you serious. He's the plug. Ugh. I need adderall. What did I do?! YOu know what you did. ∆ Well, alright then. ∆ Must be something. ∆ I got it. “The Legend of Supacree” L E G E N D S “Tales of A Superstar DJ” To do: Cut Freaky Friday 001 Cut Throwback Thursday 001 Cut SOM III Part I {God Is God] Part II [Clockwork] –Pull 212 Remix It's far beyond my control I get out of my head and into my soul In one ear, never out the other If the wind blew down your door, How would I call for you? —Through her, I suppose And the silk of her hair, Or the satin of her dress, — Oh, it's almost admissible, Surely admirable, Worth a smile or not, That all the world is words, In the end, As I tear down my worlds, and start over from One And I've already stopped enough once for today, I think Surely, what you'd like is just The time to get it all to nothing (Never had I wanted it or needed it) The phone was ringing, But I'll never be off the hook again, If you look for the proper way to move forward, You'll never find it, Especially looking behind you (Always looking behind you— Head in the past Just like you It's just like me, Too, To sit down and decide a whole song about you While taking it all down. I'm never distraught with the thoughts of a stranger, Oh, on the contrary; You should be mad about battle, But I'm all for the veterans and And never off if we were not at war with one another, but Then again, That's all we've ever done It would be Devastating To even think of Something more clever “Clever and splendiferous confectionary efforts, Just spectacular concessions my dear; I'll have another.” Hadn't I deciphered once or twice the rhyme for riddles down to dollars and cents? I did, I thought, once. I never hindered Heaven from pondering over my shoulder once or twice upon a full lit moon, which under I predicted my own fortune. Once— or twice, but— Nevermind, or nothing; Indifference, for instance, instantly inscessent ancestral insimination incriminating risidual visuals uhh— —From the festival. Right. The festival project. [—Parallels.—] GOD: So you want to be The “Glass Animals” *nods* Glass Animals. That's what I said. Glass Animals There's no “The” Context. Ok. So–”Glass Animals” *nods* Are you sure you don't want to be made of something else? *nods* *shrugs* Okayy. Glas Animals. I'm lost, But don't remind me Running out of time But time can't find me Open up my eye 10 times in 9 days I should probably fall away Back to the bay, No baby, don't cry No baby, don't cry No baby, don't cry [Midnight Request Line.] Sleek black corvette. Not a dent, not a scratch And I am feeling better, Since you asked What a warm and welcome Pleasant, wet suprise What do I owe you the—time I guess it made me smile for awhile, now I'm sad again— Wow, that was quick… Only took a second, but don't mind my arrogance ‘—I play this and it puts me in a trance.' I want to dance with you I hope someone holds my hand like that, one day Where are you taking me? “Away, my dear, away…”, he's saying… I lie awake midday and taking shallow breaths, I drift away A weapon for my empathy, [Midnight Request Line.] I have no idea what happened. ‘Ambiguous Ambitions - The Crossing ‘ A shiver up my spine I don't really mind, I'm still trying to find the word for it— But tongue in cheek it is That's—if it fits You but me once, And I liked it Come bite me twice If you buy it; Alright, Ryan—where is it? Where is what? You know what I'm talking about. I don't know anything! “Ryan Remembers Everything” Goddamn it, wake up. I need silence. GET UP, GODDAMNIT. Okay— Okay— —I just need you to tell me where it is— Where what is?! I don't think this is very funny. This got serious. Ouch. I don't want to watch TV anymore ever again. I really wish you'd tell me Oh, you wish? Watch this. I'm sorry, Ryan. Hello. I—hello. I'll have a tall order of whatever's in that box. You want what's in that box? Yessir. What is happening? I dunno. I'm afraid that's going to be a problem. *gasp* can we have ninjas? *NINJAS* NINJA FIGHT. —oh sht rly. *lmfao* Sometimes i'm set in my ways, Sometimes days go by—days, In the blink of an eye, Ever since I decided, I might have had love with you. I think we have some things to figure out, about it —it being ourselves, And washing my hands never felt so right In my life Somebody told me the stars in the sky were spirit guides, And it stuck, I'm up all night, But i'm the only star I see In New York City Don't look up to see me— Don't look up to me please, kid, really I mean, why, my baby? I mean, Hi lady— You so fly tonight, just my delight I — Like the way I look by you I— You know, If I sit in the city every night like this, And write, It just might Be the end of me Be the end of me Be the end of me You know, If I did get the limelight, Right on time to soothe and Satiate my need to be an idol LC Even this late in life, Like— —fuck ‘8I just want him to like me' I shouldn't even think about Superstardom like that, But I'll be right back, I gotta get the rabbit out the White hat, What a habit to have, huh What an idea that we might all get along Or a lot done Or be better off alone Than just to fuck off And write another song— Because the audience will like it But we're all over it; It's all done, isn't it? “The Running Game” I don't know what you want to hear from me. \ How about, “I'm sorry.” Ok, I'm sorry. You don't do much, do you? I guess I don't. Sabotage//Salvation Idk what this is supposed to mean. This is my demise. You're completely a ticking time bomb. You're not wrong. Salvation, from the doldrums. A sound to soothe my soul, I sink beneath you, South and under smoky water Open mouth, and barely thought of, Although often, Walk or waltz, would I To fall, my love, So becoming of a flower; forth and outward over fountains; Leaps and bounds, Of course– Well, this is dope af. What are you doing. What. What happened. THis is really good. So. So, i gotta turn this one off now– And listen to that one insead. All the time? Yeah. Oh. For, like ever..? Well, no. I gotta put it in the vault. Noooh. Yes. YEs. Yes. Forever. FOrever, no, for now– yes. That could be almost forever. Yeah. Almost. “Almost Invisible.” Take out my eyes, for now (If i could, would you want them) To beg or to barter for, I offer them up, as Ritual sacrifice (it's just a) Ritual Sacrifice. These two eyes. __ He was the boy who owned the world; Hailing from the land of a thousand suns, He said, “I'll give you a dozen roses, honey, If all you ever do is, Smile for me, So, go ahead, Smile for a dozen roses or more,” And the irony is that she did it– Not for the roses, –but for the attention. (Just for the attention.) It was she who birthed the worlds; Building the land of a thousands suns, She said I'll give you a dozen horses, “If you could just– Pick the winning one” And the irony is, that he did it– Because he loved horses, And now he had twelve of them! (--And any one could be the winning one, no matter what she does; He's got a dozen of em, Anyway.) Fuck. What. Well, that went off the deep end. Fuck. Well, this just got dark. This guy comes off your blacklist tonight. No, this person Guy. PErson. Most certainly does not. I promise if I love a=a=A=a What is this That's a making no complese sense equation. Think about it in a multidimensional– Oh, that makes total sense. Just remember, when using this– this has been around for a really long time. It's been A long time. I died in your bed, But woke up in your arms; Oh when you love, love– Love me harder, Love me harder– Oh, baby when you love, love me harder Love me harder Love//Love Me Harder Love//Love Me Harder Love//Love//Love Love Me Harder Love//Love Me Harder Love//Love//Love Love Me Harder I woke up in your bed, And then died in your arms; It was a work of art, I suppose What we were, or are (Or aspire to be.) Please. Give me your iPhone. No! No? (Takes I phone.) Is there a reason you don't want me having this? …no. No? —it's full of stuff. “Stuff.” Yes. It's— “Stuff.” Yes. — —and things. I know. Look. We had a deal. We had no “deal” We had a deal. This train just goes on forever, you know; Whether you're on, or off it— So get off, and back on at the wrong stop Once, if not just for the discovery Of another supermarket, Where you shop for strawberries and Groceries Good flex, God; I got a gang of em I'm gonna explain it as straight as it gets Sometimes, You just got to know where to go If you don't trust your gut, You'll just never get, Never get it right. Alright, alright, I started it Alright, right— I gotta get it right, I gotta get ; I'm the worst at introductions Oh and, So bad at Goodbyes Oh, why'd you have to leave me by my idol Why, Why'd you have to lead me by my eyes By my eyes God, I love the way I love the way, I love the way you Love me God, I love The way you The way you Love me You forgot about me, didn't you? You forgot all about me You forgot all about it— All about it Al about it It's not the same, anymore Since you gave it a name, is it? There's nothing I can do To help me, help you This is all I can do, To help me, love you I have to remove you; I have to remove you In a room— Full of beauty— In a world, Full of woes I lose the last dose of you, on my tongue Nobody ever wanted it, like I do— Like I do I lose the last dose of you on my tongue, And I'm all full of love again; I never saw anything like it, I was a modem, still plugged into the wall An anonymous post partum unremarkable Post-party proclamations and eternal damnation for ordering breakfast Evading transportation authorities Unworried the informant sleeping under me Oh, Now she wants to song— Oh, look— And now, she has a song to sing A point to make, A wrong to ring; The man she brings along Is bad for her Oh, she's gotta work (She loves to work, She's got to work it) What kills her makes her stronger What doesn't kill her makes her stronger All she does is Carry on And Carry on And Carry on. “Mrs Sheffield left flushing queens, for this.” Mrs Sheffield left Flushing, Queens, for this?! Mrs Sheffield left Flushing, Queens for this! Mrs, Sheffield! -1flushing queens, fah ‘dis. Very well worth it, I got all the way to brooklyn And way beyond my means for this It's well outta my means. It's out of my hands, now. That boy called you “grandpa” How is it all over? When I bet to God I was, Just in your lap at this party, And you were under me slippin on some sort of Lager or Something Weren't you? Yeah, I was just there, too I was just there, too— I was just there, too— Oh, now she has a song… All of a sudden.— But it's not all of a sudden at all It's not all of a sudden There's nothing, is there? Oh, There's something, surely I went to bed late; But I'm getting up early. I see the way he looks at me— —take it easy, baby We could have the whole room waiting Like a stoner at a stop sign My bad, My eyes lie to me All the time Driving me mad Telling me I want you inside me My bad My bad Well, I want you in my bed But I haven't had one yet I'm thinking Purple Mattress; Or is that mids, to you kids Like Timmy ho's Or my mustang civic It's a custom, yeah Nobody has it yet It's a hybrid Like I am —I am a bit off subject, now (My bad) We never had sex in my bathroom (That was your house) I took a mouse to the mountain (My bad) My writing is getting more Acid-centric, Lysergic acid diethylamide; I didn't buy any, But I haven't the need anymore, Really I just wake up like this: That is, when I wake up (I have long nights, kids) My bad I want to see you very briefly Without your briefs, You know what I mean? Me neither— Sexual delinquency in meditated frequencies Repeat this sequence I keep my deepest secrets Where I need it Right up my slime, Where my spleen is— Dreamed it, and I haven't cleaned since (Or dreamed since) In this Endless emission, Ignition sequence begins When The Lean splits Under the blood moon; An eclipse. I drift off a lot— Just thinking of your penis My daydreams are not very safe for the public I think they're X-rated or worse, Even thinking of you as a person, Or worse: As my husband once, as my lover— Lovers have all the fun, anyway Hm All the things that I'd do to you After you put me through— What are you looking for, exactly? A synchronicity. Just any synchronicity? There's no such thing as “just any” synchronicity. Does “laying low” mean nothing to you? I'm laying low! On a city tour?! It's a big city! [From Afar] IS THAT HER? Aw, fuck. Well, well, well–here we go–0 I don't have time for this. Here it is. I don't know what you're doing. We're going on an adventure! NO. I. Cant. Enjoy. Anything. WELCOME TO HOLLYWOOD. I hate this. My creativity had become merciless–inspiration pouring from the world as if all that it wanted wast o be collected and captured in any way I could see fit to create– What do you want? Out of life–or in this store? Out of life. Lets start with this store. A Living Lion; The eyes inside, I smiled, declined to act on impulse He'll admit, She's less complex, cause she's basic Everthemore complacent, blatantly lazy-- and crazy adorable. Whatmore could any man want? Whatmore could any man need? Whatmore could any man have; But the best friend who needed therapy, Several Plastic surgeries, A fading glass menagerie-- If she knew what that means. (Basically, they're both nobodies.) ‘What on God's awful green earth makes you think I would ever want anything to do with either of you two Losers? Beggars can't be choosers. His plan B was Annie; But she was never like me Enough to be Happy with Sonny; Let alone anybody. What is happening? Do you have an explanation of what's happening to me. Every realm of reality and possibility. This is infinity. What is this all supposed to mean to me? You can see everything and nothing; You can be anything. So what would that mean? What does it mean to you? That Love is Love, then. I've been half of a wide-open bleeding heart, Since the Goddamn start of it. He started it, Or someone did I didn't ever ask for it I was only ever always on the dancefloor when it mattered. I was always looking past him, but not ever looking at him. It was always just at random, but i'd never thought to ask him A question, Or to greet him-- I just. Adjust. They're watching us, from above. Adjust. They just don't trust us Adjust. Look what we've done, look what we've done to the planet that gave us all the light that we come from. Look, there. It appears to be ‘shimmering' What exactly is happening. The entirety of its surface is Auquous. Oceana. If i learn all the planets, In the everlasting galaxies-- And learn how to explore it… I just might get to Skrillex. I might fully need a Xanex bar if I ever see this kid in person. He's olden than you. By like, a minute. Still. I mean, really. I don't think this is ever going to work. It might not work, I mean-- What? If you had to actually-- Oh God, no; I'd be far too nervous. So what are you going to do when it comes time for festival season Run. Hide. Run + Hide. Fight or Flight; A Natural Response to Skrillex There is no natural response to Skrillex, because it's unnatural Be civil. I am I ‘m trying to figure out how to protect this species. Oh now, you're acting as if he's not human Of course he is. But i'm not. Of course. All it is, is science, a bit of misunderstanding. Experimental sorcery, possible exploitation. I'm not exploiting Skrillex. No, he's exploiting YOU. No. Wake the fuck up. No. (Stop repeating yourself) Wake up; you're being manipulated. By Skrillex? Cool. By whatever's manipulating Skrillex. Alright. Alright? You're part of a machine. So? “SO?” You're this comfortable having given your soul up to the devil. I haven't done that. Do you know what it takes to achieve that of which you so covet? Money. And? Power. Go on. Fame. So, calculate. It adds up the same either way. Skrillex isn't real. Maybe not, but Sonny Moore is-- Is, what-- Is “who”... “Who…” I love. What? --But that's all I know. That's it? Yes. Elaborate. Can't. What do you mean? Well, it goes like this: This is insanity. I've been through every wormhole, every parallel, every revolutionary subconscious thought, every world, every realm, every lifetime...and at the end of the day--or the beginning, depending-- it's really all the same question, and the same answer--over and over again; From the Beginning to the End. It is infinite. Everything is Everything. Quickly, tell me-- What, now? What goes on a Skrillex Pizza? Nothing, because it's not a thing! It is not. It isn't! Stop arguing at get to work. On what? On building Building What [The] Skrillex. How in the fuck am I supposed to do that? How in the fuck did you get to be a vegetarian? It just happened. So. So… Are you really a vegetarian? ___ Why did you do this? I didn't do this! You did this! I didn't do this! Why would I do this? How could you! I didn't! What the fuck is HE doing here? What the fuck. You need to stop this. I can't stop. What did you DO. Exactly what I had to. Shasta! Who the fuck is that? That's that bitch. I told you it was Shasta. Who the fuck is Shasta. What show is this? Where is Skrillex? FUCK SKR— Wait, what show is this? INT. THE VOID. DAY & NIGHT. I remember the first time I ever realized, I could love anyone in the world, if they needed me to—or, if they just gave me the chance. Or if I got the chance. Or, if there was a chance. And, if there was a chance, and it was supposed to happen, it always would—especially if I wanted it— But definitely, if I needed it. But, what is is “if”? And, what is “supposed”? What is it to “want”? And what's a “need”? Now I know— or at least pretend to. Because, the more it is I think I know, the actual less I feel that I actually do; None the wiser, I am what I always was— And God is, as I am. Sunni Blu becomes a popular androgynous rapper, as as s/he rises to fame is forced to take on a mre masculine persona to monetize thiher music. After releasing a series of Skrillex diss-tracks, and music aimed at OWSLA's top dogs, a feud between Skrillex and Sunni Blu, or rather their ‘teams' breaks out into the media. After Skrillex is hacked and left with his entire music collection missing, it is presumed the attack and disappearance of his hard drives was orchestrated by Sunni; After his unreleased music is leaked and the damage is deemed ‘irreparable' The Skrillex Project is forced to close, and the artist himself disappeared into obscurity-- after hearing one of his unreleased tracks used for one of Sunni Blu's hits, he( ‘*the fictional Skrillex*) secretly attends one of Sunni's concerts; Sunni Blu spots him in a large crowd and the two brawl; Skrillex with the upper hand after Sunni draws back from a bloody nose and retreats; It is revealed that the unreleased Skrillex track which was ‘gifted' to her came from the stolen collection, unbeknownst to Sunni Blu Although Sunni Blu's true identity has yet to be revealed to more than Dillon Francis, beside the publicity and management who have been helping to keep her secret; Dillon Francis and Sunni Blu are cornered by paparazzi, revealing to the public that she is, in fact, a female; As allegations arise that Sunni Blu is a transgender, rumors put a strain on Sunni Blu and Dillon Francis's collaborations… TBC. All of a sudden—or maybe, even, not so suddenly—I was Clark Kent—or whatever Superman's name was. I had been without contacts or glasses for quite some time, and had quite explicitly in one of my many letters to God—or really any holy power in a realm which might have received my charred requests—all the things I needed, and some of the things I very badly wanted—tightly bundled and wax-sealed with intention for nothing besides that of the greater good, or course, for myself or anyone else—set ablaze in the unforgiving streets of New York City, in secrecy at odd hours of the night; it hadn't been my actual intent to have to practice any magic at all, especially under the circumstances, it it seemed that someone nearly unmentionable at all, had hexed a nasty attack on my psyche—a satanic, demonic possession of the weak and feeble bodies around me, and unable to isolate in completion, I became vulnerable to such a wicked curse that it had altered my psychic morality—as one does not practition a counter-curse or attack , in my medicinal expertise, without first being provoked—as one military typically mustn't bomb another, or even it's own enemy without being first considerably attacked—and it was, at this point, indeed a terrible holy war. I pulled the stars into order I put the water to fountains, in mountaintops I don't know who I am either But you call me God, Agree, I'd not— But at least I love you I believe I was you once I'm awful sorry that I broke you I might have put the sun Just to far up and out of reach Believe me, see—I see you Doesn't matter what we try to do Unity is beautiful I live on the 8th floor I don't intend what I'm there for It doesn't feel bad though It doesn't feel bad though I don't know what you're after -Blū Do I scare you? Only a little. Huh. What? Nothing.. I hate you. ihateyou. Eventually, The Ascended Masters will intervene. They already have. Oh, Christ Almighty. He's not coming. [Answering Phone] Jesus Christ Almighty –WHERERU? I TOLD YOU I'D GET THERE GODDAMNIT. Fascinating. Do my eyes deceive me, Or Is there a secret between us: A secret illusion; Should I bury it, Or keep it neatly And unseen, Between my knees, And where you need me? Is there a thing that I should need, But never speak– I'll keep it in my sweet release To dream beliefs of evil Seen, aquamarine revines, And pulsing veins, –and stolen hearts, Not passing judgment, But just passing by To hide, to pass the time To find a high, Align in color Fly, Write another rhyme, Or wire fireflies a transfer of light, Like the eyes reflect to mine. WHY would you write this? WHY. I hate blue eyes. That's racist. No it isn't. Congratulations on making it into my aerospace, unscathed A coincidence, this is not. I have something for you. I don't need anything from you. That's because I gave you everything you need. Right. I have everything. RIght. So you should know whatever you need comes at a high price. What makes you think I need something. You said you have something for me? Yes I do. You don't seem the gift giving type. I'm not. So, what do you want from me? WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME? Oh. it' s another one. What's he need? Probably nothin, really Oh, it's something. This shouldn't be happening. I agree. why is this bothering me. Google it's self had deleted half my entry, which was admittedly sloppily thrown together, at nearly a full episode's length; probably for the best, as I was becoming more intolerant of my societal responsibility by the moment, and increasingly self destructive asa result. It was still chaotic; fame kept coming closer towards me and then leaping away, but not out of reach or out of sight, but rather than chase it, I merely calmly strode forward in a never-changing pace, not rushing and always careful to remain calm, even when filled with fury. I had become unrecognizably fit, chaste, and a remarkably healthy eater; I was all together well, besides in the areas of romance and sexuality of course. I was ready to pounce, but timing would be key, and patience the virtue; UH – “hehe” …I beg your pardon. “Hehe” Um… Fuck. Or “haha” “haha” … Just admit it. … Admit it already! –haha. Admit WHAT. This gets Levels. Nobody thought Patrice O Neal was a woman! I thought Patrice O Neal Was a Woman. Ah, fuck, I'm nobody. “Nobody” Is that Bob Saget? I swiped right on this dude, just cause he looked exactly like Bob Saget. Omg. Bob Saget! Fuck, that's right. EXT. THE W HOTEL, BEVERLY HILLS, DAY/ EXT . PODSHARE WESTWOOD ROOFTOP, DAY OH MY GOD, GUYS, LOOK: IT'S BOB SAGET. No it's not! Oh My God! Yeah IT IS! Fuck, really?! Bob Saget?! BOB SAGET! YO GUYS, IT'S BOB SAGET. It was, in fact, Bob Saget. Bob Saget's dead, right? Oh yeah, bud. That's it guys! No more dead celebrities! I'm coming with you! NO MORE GHOSTS. Look, I have something to tell you. UGH. COME ON. This is a weird superpower. EXT. GRAVEYARD, QUEENS, NY. DAY … … … Having fun yet? Alright! I have a question! What? When do I get to– Get to what? You know. V.O. Things I know about myself… I have a dominant personality, but am sexually submissive— I am monogamous. I know what I like — *Drill beat* Die in your sleep (Hope you die in your sleep) Die in your sleep (Betta die in your sleep) I look like a vacation. But k'm still on the clock (psyche) Countin my rocks And holdin my (unh) crotch You better watch your back —hold on your coughs Don't run in no crocs! (No!) I'm offset Now I'm upset l —I love you. Shut up, foo— I don't even love myself. …you told her?! I—yeah… What did she say?! She said “shut up, fool Been. Long time since I missed my exit HEY! [looks over slowly] I LIKE YOUR BALLS. [beat] [thumbs up] How do I not have “throwing elbows?!” BECAUSE YOURE NOT DOING YOUR JOB! Shut up, Jeff COME TO THE DARK SIDE WE HAVE COOKIES Half of Hollywood shows up at Joel's super nerdy Star Wars party The truth comes in glimpses; A shattered reality Scattered the ashes at malice, insanity— Actress, an actress; She laughs when she has to, l l l And last to leave, actually, After each practice Practice conspicuous, Conspiracy conspiracy Perspiration lyrics, affixed to the rhythms She sleeps at the regency, l Freedom for secrecy Believe, please believe me, my love l It was easy The truth comes in glimpses; A shattered reality Scattered the ashes at malice, insanity— Actress, an actress; She laughs when she has to, l l l And last to leave, actually, After each practice Practice conspicuous, Conspiracy conspiracy Perspiration lyrics, affixed to the rhythms She sleeps at the regency, l Freedom for secrecy Believe, please believe me, my love l It was easy Sunni BLU Tweety bird Mickey Mouse Betty boop I woke up like this But a little different I woke up a star Then became a planet I'm a hummingbird, but I don't like flying I might look alright, But I feel like dying I hate waking up at 5 am Just to be the first one at the gym I don't wanna do that shit again— Well, I might as well just stay up! I hate waking up at 5 am Just to take my goddamn medicine, but If I don't I'll feel like shit— Well, I might as well just stay up! I might as well just stay up! This is a recipe for disaster. No, this is a recipe for Skrillex. Oh. This is the recipe for disaster. Thanks, Dillon Francis. FOR WHAT? I remember the moment I became partially deaf. Or at least, in the synesthetic sense. Dillon Francis is delicious Come on let me lick it on a stick Give it to me like a big Meat popsicle Meat popsicle Meat popsicle Meat popsicle Sample: Willy winks* ITS WILLY WONKA Lol are we still doing the bit where the misspellings are like a, another entirely different dimension? Yeah. Haha. Yeah. —and the chocolate factory “Lick an orange. It tastes like an orange. The strawberries taste like strawberries! The snozzberries taste like snozzberries!” KATT WILLIAMS IS— WILLY WONKA. Oh hell naw! Don't look at me; I'm just a DJ, don't look at me— Shaking my head, but it don't mean nothing Don't know what you mean You don't even see me; I ain't even here! Invisibility, The MVP or VIP. It don't mean nothing Don't look at me! Shaking my head, but it don't mean nothing, Hey, Don't look at me; I'm just a DJ, man, I'. The life of the party I do know what you mean! Shaking my head, but it don't mean nothing I don't know what you mean— Hey, I ain't see nothing, nope Don't look at me I could get some work in; I got 12 minutes, God as my witness I work on my fitness And listen to — Simple Temptations and limited Intervals, Quick algorithmics, And tentative frequencies No more mentions for attention whores Like Kayla Lauren! I promise that's my last one, That bitch is boring, I'm not sorry but I'm soarin on my suorin While you're snoring on my metamorphosis Imm getting sworn in Don't look at me; I'm just a DJ, don't look at me— Shaking my head, but it don't mean nothing Don't know what you mean You don't even see me; I ain't even show up to work this week OG VIP ASAP MVP It don't mean nothing I'm just a DJ Don't look at me —- Hey Mr. wedding ring— I'll buy you a drink, You know, Like an old cream soda. Or a float, You can drink in the bucket seat Tell me, Mr. Wedding ring Do you have everything you need? I don't envy anything besides your energy and symphonies, Please Excuse this phony boner, I don't know if you're alone If this is Homer, I'm a poet, though— And not a poser Hey, Do you suppose you know the code For doors that open up; I walk a lonely road, But Frog and Toad are old And told me you'd be there to show me (Whatever) Woah Where am I supposed to go from here I'm nowhere, dear I'm Alice lost in wonderland And all her friends— Even the one in red Who wants her head (Where'd that come from) Yo! It's a real bad acid trip, I can't get a grip on reality Can't get off the grid at random, If you're being tracked By the feds and fandom Woah. I may be one of the greatest writers in history But will you remember me? My ex gets Under my skin with Champion fashion; It's in bad taste But I haven't had my own bathroom In half a millennium Im under persenium arches Sniffing cristanthimymums sampling Arsenio Hall Are you ip yet? I'm still enthralled with this story But yo! (Where's Unaavvi at) I haven't been to a show (Where's the party at) I should be gripping a pole (Where is Cardi at) But it takes all day to get back to the Bronx in the snow! Fuck New York when it's cold And it's always cold in New York When you don't know nobody And your only hobby is hobbling around in the hotel lobby Counting the robbers and gobblins A D Whitney's and Bobby's The ghosts and the zombies Everything hurts But everything heals, with time// Whatever that is; And whatever that means, It's means to an end, if you let it be So let it be But, it persists in lettering me; He becomes me in my sleep, In dreams I think I really need him, or something Or anyone, or anybody Anything, or something Anybody, anybody Excerpt From: “DJ AND CC TAKE HOLLYWOOD” Wait, CC—you're a sex addict?! I'm an everything addict! You know this! I didn't know! —Except pills; I hate pills. What? I've seen you take pills before. Case in point! Why didn't you just tell me? It doesn't exactly come up organically in conversation, Dillon. What?! We talk about sex all the time. Like, in general—but not fórreal! What the fuck! What the fuck?! Whats the difference?! If you have to ask, I feel like you're really not gonna like the answer, dog. — “WorstConversationEver” (Bong rips) Remember your dad's friend Tom? Oh my God. You fucked Tom?! NO! okay, cause— I sucked his dick while I pretended to mow the lawn! What the hell?! —and he still paid me. Whatthefuck. Yeah, fucked up. So who mowed the lawn?! He mowed his own lawn! This is the worst conversation ever. The crazy thing about this story is— There's a lot of crazy things about this story, actually. EXT. BASKETBALL COURT. DAY. Alright— shirts and skins —Shirt—Skin Shirt,Skin— Uhh! Nah. I wanna be “shirts” Why dude?! Your girl's mad hot! So?! So I know you got it goin on! Look at you! I'm mad rich! Yeah—but girls always cheat on flabby rich dudes! With hotter dudes. My girlfriend might be cheating on me! Yeah—She's not, though. How do you know? Cause I tried! Yeah. Take your shirt off. No—uh! How do you know she's just not into you! Because! He tried— HE tried! You sell out. And Andre tried— [ANDRE is tall (about 6'9 dark, and handsome] —you too, bro? [ANDRE shrugs nonchalantly] That's an NBA player— What the FUCK, YO. —and she said NO. ANDRE Yup. Shot me down. Oh really—from all the way up there?! Face it, man! You're fuckin hot! I don't like the way that sounds coming from you— Take your shirt off! Were you this aggressive with my girl?! Don't be like that… Nah— fuck you! Yo! C'mon, man— And you three! You're holding up the game getting mad over nothing. It's Hollywood! It's Beverly Hills! —Exactly my point! You're new here—you'll catch on. You know what! I'm shirts—you're skins—Game on. [SUNNI BLU goes beast mode and plays the dirtiest, most whoopass game in history—out of spite and anger of the toxic masculinity; this of course earns SUNNI BLU even more respect as a “man's man”] Later: as the owner of the clippers, sunni BLU trades “Andre” to the worst basketball team in history. SUPACREE buys DIPLO a glass house to replace the one he burned down in a crime of passion.] There, now, you'll stop throwing stones— Huh! AND. Everyone can see when you ugly cry. *humphs* Now, stop it! Is it supacree? Uh? Could be Sunni Blu. Sunni Blu is a dude— Sunni Blu is pretending to be a dude. Oh yeah, huh. Dang. Huh. Well, then. We've gotta consult The Big Book of Dillon Francis. Don't say that like it's some kind of guide book. It is a guidebook. To what?? To Dillon Francis! That's preposterous. Didn't you choose Sonny? Didn't I waste my time writing the great big book of Dillon Francis!? Touché. Might as well do something with it. I got it. THIS IS ENVIRONMENTALLY IRRESPONSIBLE. BURN IT ALL. You're gonna hurt someone's feelings. Yeah, my own. STOP TOUCHING THAT. Wait, where is— Fuck. What? Now I'm “that girl who fell in love with Skrillex” Lol, which one. Hum. The one who wrote a novel about it. Pick your poison. Rum. Not a rum and coke? No, just straight up—you know what? How much is the bottle? Uhhh. Just. [SUPACREE pours the remains of the bottle into a red solo cup.] Ugh. Come on. What! At least you're not “The Black Yoko Ono” How did you even find out about that one. Infinite what the fucks. Now the world's getting mad again, I wrote something damaging; Doors just start slamming at random, And coughing— Sounds of motorists passing, Just scrambling my brain, I'm insane, but at least I have plainly created What may be historical, one day— I've made a whole masterpiece, a symphony that easily outlives me, infinity— My body's just a body Rush a cop just got get off this awful planet; I don't want what comes with poverty and fat, I don't compete with Instagram models, And everyone does that— I'm not a catfish, facts are facts I use my camera just to document the interesting phenomena I happen to walk past; Saw Dillon Francis on a wall, and had to grant the wish he asked— But don't know what it is exactly, I'm just happening, actually— I probably need nap but now Insomniac's been tracking me; I happily allow it; I program myself with beats, So when I finally sleep, I dream in music sequences, or something— I don't know I might delete it upon listening to rampant white supremacy or privelege on repeat, But that's just me, Forgetting I'm the one in trouble, On the run, without a family So perception is reality, and mine is badly damaged— Damn Pasquale again, I had to re-decipher all the messages transmitted from imaginary friends, Collecting images in infrared *gasp* Okay, just—breathe… I can't! I have to wear a mask! It's mandatory—so is being black, I have to! But I'm not a rapper! Maybe I should talk to Chance, Or Marshall Mathers: They might have to answer To the questions that I can't afford to ask This automatic writing might just be the most Goddamned advanced evidence of intelligent inhabitants in other dimensions, or other planets Or all of the above, Or maybe just of Dillon Francis using magic, Which he got from— Oh, no, here it comes SK— Fuck this. Fuck this mother—FAWN. Are we out of F*cks, then? I floppin' guess! I thought you loved him. It is what it is. What is it? INFI— THE END. INFINITI! ...yes, mom? GET IN HERE, Huh? Don't say “huh”. Okay, what? Don't say “what” … … … ...welll, what do you want? What is this? *shrugs* INFINITY [ooh, with a ‘Y' that's how you know mom's angry this time] *COUGHS* Betcha his photographer's in love with him. Which one has the VooDoo Doll? There's a Skrillex VooDoo Doll? It's technically ‘Sonny' Aww. You'd be surprised at the shit these girls will— INFINITY. WHAT. What is THIS?! It's just—Skrillex. AFH. Now you're FUCKED. I thought we were out of FUCKS. That was FAUX. Awww: I see what you did there. Am I done now? What does Dillon Francis want?! —don't answer that. [whispering in ear.] That's not possible So. I shifted a consciousness into this rock. Why would—why? For good luck. Oh, this is a problem, But it turns out. HUH. Damn. I'm on one, I have blue balls, This is not fun. This is not fun. This is not fun. Okay; now you're done. So, that's it--? You really want to ride this Sinking Ship? If that's what this is, then I guess that says it. Says…? Says “I just bought a ticket to Titanic at Bass Canyon.” Is that where you bought it? Is it? Why would you give yourself in, for him? (For Anyone?) In. (Psh) I gave myself out. Out? Look at you. Look at me. I'd rather not. You know what it is You know what it is— You know what it is That's the business Comin in hot, like a chicken wing This ain't Toy Story—got no friend in me, You feelin me? Cold as Minnesota, I'm the ice queen Nice bling— Hollywood should buy this bitch a wedding ring Amohetemime Trick, you're a half, I'm the whole thing Whole Foods market, gotta own me No mink coat, I'm a vegan, Hocus Pocus, I'm three witches Okay, from the top Hello? This is Hollywood calling; We want the festival project We just wrote up the contract Come get your deposit: You're nominated for an Oscar Your Star On The Walk looks Awesome it's On Us Yeah? That's what's up I'll come up I'll come up I'll come up Say what's up That's my shite; I'm rep in the festival project Ya'll like “what's that?” I'll tel you all about it,—that's Coming up next Oh yeah, Oh yeah Tune in I'm On Welcome to your Hollywood life The good life Good life Welcome to the Hollywood life That's right That's right Welcome to your Hollywood life The good life Good life Welcome to the Hollywood life That's right That's right They call me young Hollywood, They robbed me good in Santa Monica And I so I got no address yet; But I'm coming up like one direction I just checked my reflection like: Mirror mirror on the wall I gotta go Hollywood's callin And I don't do this often Only when o bless the red carpet Comin in hot, like a chicken wing Call me Toy Story— got a friend in me, You feelin me? On the big screen livin out my dreams, I wrote my scenes, the Hollywood life: I neee I ride by On a tomeline I write, I like My nice things. The life I lead, Is ritghteous, I defy my means Applied IT, I might be AI, Fine my me; Cause all I see Is light I like, And I'm liking my Hollywood life, I think. Nice bling— Hollywood should buy this bitch a wedding ring Amohetemime Trick, you're a half, I'm the whole thing Whole Foods market, gotta own me No mink coat, I'm a vegan, Hocus Pocus, I'm three witches It's just some Hollywood shit Isn't it fabulous This is some Hollywood shiy Isn't it fabulous Comin in hot, like a chicken wing This ain't Toy Story—got no friend in me, You feelin me? Cold as Minnesota, I'm the ice queen Nice bling— Hollywood should buy this bitch a wedding ring Amohetemime Trick, you're a half, I'm the whole thing Whole Foods market, gotta own me No mink coat, I'm a vegan, Hocus Pocus, I'm three witches You know what it is You know what it is— You know what it is That's the business One door close. Then another door opens So sick flow, go home with a cold then Woah, Hoe—cold like some snow boots Pants so big, I can parachute PARACHUTE! Hoes look fake, like a blow up doll Harlem shake, i'm bout to blow up ya'll SAM ASH. HOLLYWOOD, CALIFORNIA. DAY. Do you have any Jog Wheels? Beg your pardon? Uh, Jog Wheels. “Jog Wheels” Yeah, you know, like (imitates DJ scratching) Oh, you mean these? (Entire room of DJ controllers) Yeah, but just–this (points to Jog Wheel) Oh, “Jog Wheels…” Yes. Jog Wheels. …Just “Jog Wheels?” …yes. No. [Leaving store with frustrated infuriation] AGH. BEFORE: Oh my God! We've been robbed! WHAT! OH MY GOD! WHAT! WHAT'D THEY TAKE?! – Have you tried Guitar Center? THEY TOOK MY JOG WHEELS. Bitch you mad? Mad at what? I'm still making money; I don't give a fuck Get my bag; Count it up I'm a dog— And you know I like it rough (Ruff ruff ruff) Where you from? Where you hood at? Keep it clsssy But I'm acting like a hood rat I'm a playa I got boss racks Call me north Cause I'm pointed where the moss at (Money) I am from Los Angeles I got all these fans and stuff I smoke on dat tangle I be at PINK buying bras n stuff I still shop at hollister The Bronx ain't got no Rosses Or hot topics But I bought this floss To drop it like a thot n stuff Bitch you mad? Mad at what? I'm still making money; I don't give a fuck Get my bag; Count it up I'm a dog— And you know I like it rough (Ruff ruff ruff) I show up Play some ratchet music I show up Play some ratchet music. In the booth I'm eating waffles. Had to force quit my serato Key: F It's such a wonderful feeling– leaving, release, sweet relief, Slowly bleeding out Dreaming, in peace With no reason to grieve–finallly– Freedom Mm-hmm mm-hmm Mmm-hmmm __ I'm so LA for no reason. Souls— So long, So gone, Almost The time has come to walk The time has come again to rise, Rise up The time has come to walk, come on The time that's come is ours, From now on Give me time to walk, An Hour or so A trot, the fox Time to run An hour or nothing The founder of the establishment The Tower of Babel Another arrangement The flounder, the fox, the horse Come one, come all, Come one, come now The walk or a run A gallop, or trot— the horse A crown for a gallon of water A gallon of water A gallon of water I know who you are my son; Come one, come all Come mother, come father Come dog, and come brother A sister, another All for a walk in the park I lost it All for a gallon of water A gallon of water Souls— So long, So gone, Almost The time has come to walk The time has come again to rise, Rise up The time has come to walk, come on The time that's come is ours, From now on Sonny left you out in the cold Sonny doesn't know what to do Sonny gotta very old soul, so Sonny's done away with the truth Sonny didn't open any doors Sonny's always sitting in the booth Sonny isn't coming for you, poor Sonny's so in love with Sunni Blu So be Sunni Blu So be Sunni Blu You'll see Sonny soon The universe is split into two, you know Who are you? (I told you) What do you do? (I just want to make music) So you do Don't go assuming you're consumed, dude Just renew You're a renewable Don't be confused if confucius say “Hey, just play to the tune “ Get a mop and a broom And a mic and a boom Rent a room somewhere for a month or two Just don't be stupid Cupid's run out of room So Sonny's just a man that I love Sonny means less, but he does too much Sonny's just human Sonny's got proof that Once you've got money, It's all for amusement Just be Sunni Blu, kid I should have kissed him. Flashback: Montage—Season 6 V.O. I have a massive headache. I can't stop thinking about Dillon Francis. I'm hungry but haven't been to the gym and don't want to risk getting fat; All my extra smalls fit, but my butt is getting bigger. My new job's alright, but I feel like a loser. LA broke is better than regular broke, but it would be nice not to be in debt. I feel like I need a hug or a really good fuck or maybe both and then a cuddle. I can't sleep and I hate all my roommates for just existing. I think I might be getting sick just from being around other people too much. I spent like $200 on protein and left almost all of it in Las Vegas. LA Fitness sucks but it's better than nothing; I really miss Equinox. It doesn't seem like anybody really cares about me. I'm Lonely all of a sudden. I've really been craving pancakes. A lot. Sometimes it seems like everything I've written is just a waste of time. I can't stop thinking about sex. Sometimes I think about sex with Dillon Francis. Skrillex isn't real. Nothing I seem to do adds up. I'm a loser. I keep checking my emails like something is going to change. Sometimes I feel like I'm about to be famous— I'm still hungry and thinking about a late night walk to LA Cafe; I really like their tater tots. I miss being a mom. Still thinking about LA CAFE but I already had Tocya Orgánica because the juice bar was closed when I got off work. I just want someone to love me. I thought I sold my soul but I still need love so I know it's still in there somewhere. I literally spend every day working just to pay for a room to share with four people. I almost had confidence before the Australian man came along. It's weird to think about how everything I've written is just sitting in my Google documents doing nothing. All the jobs I actually want to do are for people with beautiful bodies and mine is disgusting. There's No Rick and Morty with no Justin Roiland. There's No Pirates of The Caribbean with No Johnny Depp. There's no room for reality in Hollywood. {Drill Music Playing} EXT. DOWNTOWN LOS ANGELES. NIGHT DRAKE BELL enters the SMOKE SHOP Enter The Multiverse L E G E N D S The Legend of… “Looking Back” All of a sudden—or maybe, even, not so suddenly—I was Clark Kent—or whatever Superman's name was. I had been without contacts or glasses for quite some time, and had quite explicitly in one of my many letters to God—or really any holy power in a realm which might have received my charred requests—all the things I needed, and some of the things I very badly wanted—tightly bundled and wax-sealed with intention for nothing besides that of the greater good, or course, for myself or anyone else—set ablaze in the unforgiving streets of New York City, in secrecy at odd hours of the night; it hadn't been my actual intent to have to practice any magic at all, especially under the circumstances, and it seemed that someone nearly unmentionable at all, had hexed a nasty attack on my psyche—a satanic, demonic possession of the weak and feeble bodies around me, and unable to isolate in completion, I had become vulnerable to such a wicked curse that it had altered my psychic morality—as one does not practition a counter-curse or attack, in my own medicinal expertise, without first being provoked—as one military typically mustn't bomb another, or even it's own enemy without being first considerably attacked—and it was, at this point, indeed a terrible holy war. I had at the very least been able to return to regular gym sessions, though still not training as thoroughly as before; I had allowed myself to gain quite a bit of weight over the period of just a couple weeks, eating for the most part what I wanted out of comfort, especially having nearly starved and defaulted into severe malnutrition after eating nothing but bananas for a period which lasted something like three weeks—and without adequate protein intake, I had l lost quite a bit of muscle, not that, for the most part, the muscles that I had been building weren't there—in fact, I found myself, at least as of late, looking like any retired or untrained athlete that had let themselves gain atop the muscle they had built—fat now sitting on top of my larger muscles and making the weight gain look and feel even more hideous, and after several days of at least regular lifting and sauna, I still didn't feel like running, which would alleviate most of the gain more rapidly. I was still somewhat sort of depressed—my new roommate having obviously been possessed, constantly bringing up things I didn't want to think about or remember—mostly things from my terribly abusive marriage, and of course grinding her teeth, moaning and mumbling all through the night, always specifically having some kind of problem when I seemed to be making any progress at all in music; My miserable, fat, and drunken ex had after all wanted to be a musician, and I considered him probably to be the soul proprietor of the cruel attacks, and though I had forgiven him, at least for the cheating and for the most part for beating my face in—at least as much as I could, it seemed that simply having become an actual working and professional musician myself angered him greatly, making him bitter enough to the point that he would sit and ruminate on my imminent failure enough that I could sense this—not that it mattered, as by now I had gone too far and worked too hard to do anything else—and though he was well aware of Sunnï Blū by now, I was certain he hadn't the slightest clue that Sunni was just a fictional character. I had started creating music under a number of different aliases, which I learned to be common amongst musicians—but I felt it rather to be nessececary, especially sense whatever satanic and demonic force continued to urge me to kill myself (not entirely out of the question, but still the furthest thing from my mind), as in his care our poor little boy had become morbidly obese, which also ate a hole in my heart and my soul; it wasn't fair that through our separation his body had become so grotesque and unsightly—but now, it was out of my control. This Clark Kent was not a mother—I never spoke of my failed marriage or about my son to anyone; I was simply a single woman, business minded and for the most part no-nonsense. I secretly sent care packages to my some 150- pound 6 year old in hopes that he would somehow understand my love for him; I often made mixtapes with him in mind—he loved Daft Punk. I wasn't interested in dating or even socializing beyond the neasesaey network connections, which were far and few between in the area I had been settled in, but not quite comfortable. Black men in the music scene never wanted to collaborate or or facilitate promotions without some gesture of romantic or sexual connection—in an area, music—which I considered now strictly business, and for the most part, had been talking myself down from the fantastical wet-dreamy world of fandom which might have anything to do with seeing myself with anyone in such a realm as to have crafted for themselves a career in the world of music at all—in fact, I had become unmovable from my cellibacy—though the sexual beast that dwelled on the base of my spine flamboyantly crept up into my loins and even sometimes up into my heart, I had learned to swallow it down; there was no man that I wanted or needed so much as the ones I had, and would now rather suffer alone than to struggle to try to find someone that I actually could see as a partner—Creative and emotional intelligence aside, by now I just preferred being alone, and it seemed that even those I had cared for had started to become like my ex husband—probably also overtaken by demons—and so I felt it safe and more valuable to be alone, thinking perhaps having given birth to three of his children, that my body, mind, and soul was ruined—but I'd rather go it alone myself than go back to him, or worse—end up with someone so much like him that I ended up dead, homeless, or a combination of the two—which I already had, not that I saw it as an immovable fate. This new and most astonishing Clark Kent kept to herself, and was quiet; she was observant, and critical, but not too critical—kind, but also not too kind; In New York City of all places, a sucker is a sucker—kindness is considered as weakness, and no good deed does in fact go unpunished. The prescription was perfect, and I could see sharply and clearly now; the world was color coded with shades of dark green and royal blue, with tinges of bright yellow l as if hinting that the wishes I made upon the candles I had burned would come true—and I hoped that they would, though I had done most of my spell work for protection and binding—not to collect such terrible karma for the injustice done, but to dissuade whatever had been following me—attaching its nasty energy into my world and in my realm and urging me to kill myself; everything was evil blue eyes and perfect bodied women, my music unheard and unliked and no notable achievements made. I dreamt of a world where my evil and estranged husband would reproduce with someone else—that all the hatred and darkness and energy of our shared past that he was constantly sending towards me would become a distant memory, his attention set on his new wife and child; I wanted only really to become a non-factor, left alone and loveless, albeit never unhinged or undone by love or in the hands of a man again—at least in that matter. I ran my tongue over the inside of my bottom lip where my teeth had punctured through, all the way to the other side—amazed that even years later the scar was raised, which always made me wonder how bad it really was; I couldn't have known then, even with the remarkable and obvious damage that he had done to my face, how bad it really was—and here, still, six years later, I wondered how I had survived such a gruesome assault—not that about I would have admitted it, as it seemed Hollywood itself even had been overrun with the never ending infinite saga of the he-said-she-said Battle of The Sexes, even my own pitiful self having to side with the men. “I must have deserved that.” I only see your shadow; For you, I kindly waited— My eyes are very open, But my heart is very hated LOOK AT IT. I— JUST-LOOK AT IT. I want to die and I don't know why I want to die and I don't know why I want to die and I don't know why. Why lie about it I Feel like dying I look past everything— Even what I should see I feel like dying I'm constantly out of alignment With my design Don't mind me, I was just l Light at the end of the Nightmare, or just a dream I keep on waking up Crying myself to sleep I want to die and I don't know why I want to die and I don't know why I want to die and I don't know why. Why lie about it I Feel like dying — I love the way your body looks— Please, hold me tight and don't let go I love the way your body looks— Please hold me tight and don't let go Come take a glance At my mammary glands No arms, no hands No legs, no chance Something bout those camouflage pants I Yeah, I'm just a fan, I promise I'm Stan It's that bad It's that bad I run 15 miles an hour down a mountain What you think about that? I forgot a pen and a pad, But look, I found one on the ground— Aren't you proud of me? I turn a mound into a man— I promise, I'm a fan It's that bad It's that bad I'm a fountain Look, I found you Proud family fountaine Yeah, I'm just a black Campaign magnet manager Yeah Everything the prophet Jon said was a code, And yet I was nowhere to be found at all I was Probably still drowning in blood, after all of it Writing my name on the wall Or deposit slips Slitting my wrists at the catacombs, Woah Slow down This is all so uncalled for So much the overachiever And leaver of lovers, The teacher “I loved him so Much” Stockholm, Stockholder Stop go, Stop go red rover, Red rover Send someone right over Cause 911! 911! Hit the ground running, Or duck and find cover (Or better yet, find a revolver) You're calling a four leaf clover Art for the front cover Ah, a world wonder “I should probably call her…” Enough Sir, you remind me of someone You left the door open I probably won't close it A loft, like the apartment I once Grew up in Or whatever my mind was, In the moment Why would someone smell this way I'm just a machine, I'm Irony, irony— Ey! Flock to the crossing, I've never felt so dumb before Just after Loving one star As hard as I could And it all fell apart at the alter Now I'm at the crossroads Sell my soul, sure For certain But I never owned it You'd better talk to my husband He owns it I'm better off drowning in sorrow Than blood now I'd better count all my arrows And bloodhounds Before the sun goes down And before the hunt's getting started A carver, for carving But I couldn't quite catch the words, I was starving I couldn't quite make a song out of stardust I'd better go Just before the war starts up “What did you call this?” “A word,” I said to my father The world that I started, in ruins So I stared it over And over and over So much for luxury— I thought I wanted towel service and saunas But turns out I love Eucapuptus Whatever that does Or something I thought of being discharged Or discarded Like all of the common in poverty Washed up Like mau5 was Before and after the comeback “Commander…” I never liked being captain I warned you; I only practice three out of the Ten Commandments Serve condiments like mustard And never ever wear condoms I warned them, Warranted Now, let me show you where your cock goes (In the ocean) Cous-cous, or Caucasus Persuasion, a caution Caucasians Dark, was the sun when I woke up In all purple armor Better to marry a fighter, prepared for the war that was coming We all won We're all in, But undone Rough, I like a ruffian, I might add But things never add up I would love a muffin Here goes a whole stream of conscious (Or cous cous, or caucus or) I lost the word for it Watching the omnibus roll past Fuck, now was was it Some carbohydrate (Quinoa) You never know what you got Till it's gone I just lost a penny— I'll pick up another one Haven't you suffered enough for the moment? I suffered once, But it's still not over— One for the floor and then One just to follow One for the floor, and then One just to follow I hate losing money, you know. If I cut you off [Now] ⌨️️ ️ , you might lose your tolerance… Hello, again My dear old friend I've missed you How could you leave me After all we've been through That's just what I do now, You know I should have been more thorough With all of my old stuff I couldn't love you enough In her body or another Or all of us INT. PLANET FITNESS. NIGHT survivalism, deadmau5 Wonder, wonder Would you, would you Will I will I Die tonight Wonder wonder If if if I Stay up to the Morning light If I if I. Could find Your eyes again Your eyes again Your eyes again Your eyes your eyes Are mine Thank you, kind stranger No challenge, a charger I was awfully awestruck, But stood there just after Standing on sutphin, No love and no laughter I'll see you tomorrow Cause I'll be here after all No wonder, no wonder A wonderful somethin No standing on sutphin No love, and no laughter There's no code of arms, There's mo alarm, either So unfit for love, so unfit the mother Thank you, kind stranger I couldn't care anymore, if I tried Who loves me or not I was what I was Now I'm gone And I'm off of it I couldn't care for the cause Cause it's all done I couldn't care for a father or mother Who loved me so much all at once I was born from the stardust To stories of Noah and Arks (Or just one boat,) But I stood on sutphin and archer For nothing and no one Here we are, At the turn of the hour Fear for a flower A finder, a follower Folley, you all are The whole world, we're rolling We're wrapping up capstones And craping our pants Just like pansies And on we run And on we are And off we're not —but we're off work when the party ends And up at dark And here we are, at once So far ‘That one was hard', i thought loudly to myself, finishing one banana and reaching to quickly peel another–I had been famished, and by force of nature had broken the predominant rule of fast–not to interact with the public, and therefore had been quick to hurry the fast to a finish; now that it had been s long in the understanding of the spiritual connotations of fasting, i knew never to attempt a show–especially a long DJ set, without having eaten, especially well; I needed to maintain focus, and as my career began to shift heavily, I became quite religious to certain superstition and routine of course, never allowing myself to fall prey to anything too ridiculous; I had been thoroughly taken advantage of–and knew certainly by now there was no room for error or mistakes, misjudgement of character– and I myself, perhaps just a canvas–rather than an unfriendly mirror most would be unwilling to face. The last and first thing I had consumed had been coffee– a lightly brewed vanilla bean which had exceeded most of the coffee I had consumed during my time in new york by far –a daily staple and absolute necessity, learning harshly from having spent tolerance breaks and unwilling days without coffee begging God for a glimpse of light; Alas, it had come to the point in my adulthood that certain things were just part of me–and coffee was one of them, a welcome and at least usually warm antidote for what seemed to be more often than not a cold, heartless world. But today, the sun shone and spread light and joy into my heart and mind a I trekked the nearly one mile walk to a nearby asian fusion restaurant that I had avoided before, but now was unwilling to suffer the consequences of a 4-hour set during a fast in which I spent a devoted amount of time and energy in the early morning amidst the miserable and robotic drones of the early morning commute–I was at least happy to have poured through a decent chapter or two of the books that I had finally climbed from the plateau of reading–a book about the rich history of the underground–a well-written journey into the past of a world I loved, but had become so distant from, in my heart and mind, but never in my soul– my own collection of unique and eclectic mixtapes growing daily, my own skill surpassing even my expectations–but it wasn'tmy expectation that I needed to surpass: i had yet to attract the attention of the greats–or even the lower-level promoters and managers which would spark my entry into the dance-club scene, elevating my professional DJ career from playing in parties, bars, and strip clubs and into the actual raves, clubs, and festivals that my soul came from –and called back out to, between the lines and hidden subliminal messages coded deep in the basslines, drops, and 4-to-the-floor anthems I curated with such forceful thought and empathy into my sets and mixes–mixes made of course with love on the mind and deep in my soul but seemingly nowhere to be found, lost in translation and unrequited, reverberated in the emotional undertones of the music I played day in, and day out, sometimes with tears in my eyes, but always with God on my shoulders, most often whispering the next selection into my mind's eye – my music a leap in blind faith. ‘Fuck, I do feel better.' The Pad Thai hadn't been great at all, but it had been enough to soothe the intense waves of dissociative dissolution and disconnect that came with each and every passing fast–and with each one an honorable lesson in gratitude, for all that had come with my sacred journey: Now, I was a true DJ. I don't know why imm looking for Platinum delusions “I have a question”, Well, there goes your l answer l; There goes your skeleton, creeping out the back door— There goes your relevance, An acelance, A metaphor Is that what you asked for? You looked in the wrong mirror today Is this what you wanted or not? Delusions of grandeur Emotions and saw what you bought from the storefront Gobbler it up, and wanted more More important words, for the chauffeur Are you sure, dear On a short order Or a show with a shirt run You saw the short So you order it Abort mission at once— They'll call you up when all the smoke is up In the rooftop of the cathedral Is that what you wanted Is that what your question was? More discoveries, coming right up At water Michael makers in a room full of synthesizers you could only wish you were in It's fittinf, the description for the symptoms of schizophrenia If everything relates, it should be an easy diagnosis— But it isn't It's real as hell, But isn't I just want a feel for who you are So I can stop myself from loving your accomplishments And settle for less Like the rest of the talentless miscreants With financial constraints And too many problems To overcome Into abundance Your works is my music and I just dance to it; Meanwhile imm miserable and you're courting princesses Soon to be queens, co conspirators, aqua rain es And I'm still crying in the door idiots you opened and then left me in To sift though this Infinite Disaster of indifference I found you in the kitchen sink So was bound to drown you in it A katy for your baby again— A calamity of mastery, An actor for your Gem—another character I'd written out of affinity for abandonment Flattened my abdomen for him But still couldn't change my skin color If I wanted Dillon Francis seems more obnoxious than usual [DILLON FRANCIS BEING EXTRA] Mm–I don't think so. This is out of control. It's not out of control I'm in control This is out of control. we're going to play a game. What kind of game. A minigame. What does this game entail. haha. **sidenote: Laidback Luke is not laidback at all. He seems calm. That's just his demeanor. Haha. Okie. Whats wrong with al these guys Nobody sleeps here. What about him. He looks asleep. No. [waves hand gently] See he's– You're on in 5. [Suddenly, Very awake.] Oh wow. See. Superstar DJ. Well, fuck, man. What is this Just stand here What. For what Just– wait here. Wait?! For what?! Just – [Leaves] LAIDBACK LUKE (eyes) I don't like this. (eyes) I don't like this at all. MA, MORE COFFEE. WAAAT? MORE COFFEE, MA!!! Lol these guys again. I love these guys. How did we get here? Technically, we're still in a deadmau5 construct. I dont think he's okay. I Don't think anybody's okay. Are you okay? No. (eyes) … Oh. “Oh” What are you doing here. Whatever I'm doing. You're a madman. I fucking wish. Be careful now—- —careful for what— Don't you know—wishes come true. If that were the case I'd be the richest man in the world. —maybe you are. [A mysterious stone is presented.] What is this? [a myateriius half—smirk] Your fortune, sir. THIS IS OUTRAGEOUS. What—? You know what. The Lakers Won? Don't be smart! —but—I'm a genius! [he launches towards him with fury—a coffee table comes between the two men —now, you're a rational man— —AGHH— —I wouldn't expect you to succumb to such violence. If I don't kill you with my own hands, someone else will. —kill me? With your own hands? Someone else?! AGH!! [he crushes the coffee table] That was redwood! —it's still redwood. [he picks up a pointy table leg] Where is it? Where is what? I'm ugly Nobody loves me Somebody hug me Move over, You need a mother; I'm just your lover— You're lucky And woah I think I want some Timmy hos I catch the 40 Gross Everybody's broke What is this place? —is that still happening? The ashes, falling Almost forgot about the raindrops Something's calling me The bus is coming What day is it? Last summer, I suffered longer Last summer still isn't over Last summer I came back to make money And have none now Last summer, You laughed at me Last summer, I got my hat back Last summer I worked harder Last summer I sold my hatch back I have a whole bachelor's degree waiting for me At my bachelorette party (I never had one) I came to this country last summer With nothing but a gym bag And this hat on Though it might have been another one —I always have a hat on I like the way his legs are crossed And it's just so awful How lost in my thoughts I am I'm simply anonymous, Unworthy of womanhood Stopped in androgynous God, This is all of us calling We're lost again Someone took all of my coffee And poured it on top of my coffin —I'm sad, I've been here a long time Without good money —I'm sad, I've been here a long time I just keep writing —I'm sad I've been all alone, But I'm still made of stardust —I'm sad I've been here a long time I keep falling in lust with my projects I build matrixes— I just— thought you should know that I never had my own show before Why would I go back to Being the most affordable whore in sun valley Or something I've got stars in my eyes— But I guess I deserved that I shot myself in the head I guess this is the blow back A throwback You owe me money But I don't want money— I just want love But nobody loves the impartially ugly Satan said nobody loves me All dressed up as a Japanese lady Who couldn't contain me And tried to control me— But I have a hole in my head, you know It makes everyone quite uncomfortable. When I sat down on the bus, I just lost myself I just keep fighting off lust And biting my fingernail polish, and honestly—god? Just take my life Before I do I'm not suicidal I just can't buy things Right when I like to I just can't find the right guy To go home to So you know (So you know) (So you know) (So you know) I love you Victory, Victory ,Victory!!! Do you want to come with me? Victory, Victory Victory! I'm mobile now, Do you want me to pull up? Victory, Victory, Victory! If I pull up, Do you want to come with me? Victory, Victory, Victory! I just want you with me As I fight feelings of shame and disgust I'm in the window now Robbed of my lust And my last few dollars If only for the moment I'm in the window now Like a puppy I have to wonder If anybody wants me —apparently nobody loves me I'm in the window now Thinking about how Nothing I've ever done matters Not even this What a lovely display it is It is ironic, you know. I would kill myself tonight Just never to be reminded Of —- I would kill muself tonight If I could know that on the other side It was warm and bright And this life Never even happened I might kill myself tonight Or just ride it out And try to write about How I arrived here Something's apparently important Imports and exports Inbreds and ex husbands, wives And Ex doctors Sometimes I'm Michael There's a lot of love in this parking lot I never thought about how right or wrong I was Until I stopped and watched it al on camera Vandalism in a stolen prison The whole world revolves around a blue eyed white man The whole world revolves around his blue eyed children taking all my husbands The whole world revolves around a lousy dollar — All I've got is this flower; What can I buy with that ? The whole world's rotten Just like this Apple It's in my pocket And I'm gonna light it on fire On purpose (Or with purpose) Hello? Which phone did you call from? I don't have this number Excuse my stream of conciousness I was trying to fight off suicidal thoughts not so creatively This is my job, Like this is your job I look at the jaw I want what you want This is my planet we're on This is is my plan, I got lost in it Maybe I'm wrong, but I'm not You just want a nut with a butt I just want a bud [Sample, Dillon Francis: Hey Buddy! (The Coffee Run)] I'm not your buddy. Ah. Look at that car; I'm on a coffee run at McDonald's How much does it cost? A dollar, one— It's like putting gas in my car, I don't wanna I don't wanna I don't wanna Call Jimmy Fallon to borrow a dollar. It's a coffe run A coffee run A coffee run; You cough, I run You like? I'm fun The west was won by everything under the Sun, Run it Equinox+ (EP) Love brings me out of my shell; —I could love you, I I could love you, I Could love you, I Could love you, I love you I love you, I This isn't good for my health; If you don't love me,oh well — (I could love you, I) This is just passing the time, Count my dimes and, I'm wealthy, you build me up Shining, I wake you up Diamond of mine, I love you, I Love you I Do what I want most the time, Cause nothing else matters but Making you mine I, so what I want most the time I can't get out Out of my mind, Cause I love you I love you I, Wasting my time, I could love you but Nevermind Drunk, And I'm stumbling up to my apartment for The 30th time this month, My rent's due tomorrow, but I got it, Woah, I've got just enough Just to keep fuxkin up Getting fucked up And filling my cup Like it's something, But it's nothing, Not really Nothing, Not really Be good Work it out Come on Work it odd Be good Shake it off Work it out Come on Be good, Work it off, Work it out— Come on Be good Work it out Shake it off Come on — We all know There's a monster in there And it wants let out; All man, beware— Yeah We all know There's a monster in her— And, Someone will let it go Oh, Someone let it go Oh, no (oh yeah) Oh, no That's no good That's no good Oh no (Oh yeah) Oh no (Oh yeah!) No, no You just had to let it go You just had to let it go Oh, no! — I need time To rationalize my genius I can't write light this Alt right all white nationalists I can fantazize, right? I could die like this It's a damn good life What fucking time is it, anyway? Right? I can't rationalize, this Fascist rats at The Fashion district Bam, I had it— I had to get right, man I had to get God on my Mantras I fucked up tomorrow, I'm off in Toronto with problems And dogma— Who's dog is this Tied up at the Whole Foods market I tried it, I died in the in I can't idolize idols, man Cry, though, Dip my bicoff in Chiapas coffee All pissed off, Woah It's the wrong morning to wallow in Caught me off guard at the offering Sha, there's no mother here, No other one, You're wrong God, I stopped to cross at all of them, I suffered when I swallowed, Rah, What's wrong? I'm feeling solemn on my sodomist Wishes of This centrifugal —‘swimming with the fishes, Get it? Woah, It's a whole open world of Wizards and witches I wish I could ditch this —the center or attention is this city— That's Alex Tribec, for the record Fuck the TriBeCa fest Rest in Los Angeles Rest in peace Barbra Hah— I've got all of em This is an awful lot of mantras, Stars and Stripes. God; I lost it at the Oscar's, Turn me on, or off I'm all of it Or not What was the cost of this? An awful lot of mantras, stars, And crosswalks, To stop dead in the center of “I'm miserable That's Hollywood for you, God, That's Hollywood, That's where we dropped you off — Have you had enough, yet? How was is? Enough! I'm not even fully up yet! Fuck, It was loveless, All up in ashes, I told ya, That “fun is a friend of the devil “ Burn in sense, Just rub out the sense Have my lips on your hips, Just rotate, As the earth did, In difference, she has Impatience is his imperfection “Eventually,” She says, “I'll see him” He tends to agree, Within reason— Winter breezes and freedom, This season Envy leaves, But she's gonna get even Come in threes, And maybe, We'll see then. Come to the surface, Come up— Don't give up yet Give what you've got; Half a lung, And the other is under— Come on, Come up, Come all— Come, you're walking on water! No wonder they call for you On earth — (We've got a Hot One, for you) Have you ever wondered What's wrong with us all? Fuck— Hollywood's calling, I don't have my phone on me Hollywood called, But your voice Mail is full, What? I finally picked up; The message at the tone, Was in Morse code Billy fit the Playbill, I signed it “usnavi” Yo, You look just like me A sacrifice? A sacrifice, I said, I'm red, I'm jealous like I've never been That's right, blue eyes then Next lifetime Fu— They robbed me of all my art As a hobby Worshipped for All I've got Not a god yet, but Gotta be working on something That's all of it, Gotta be knocking it off, Full of gossip and God, I want love But it's not in the cards, huh New Joan Of Ark, Where's the war That you wanted Not enough talk, But I've done enough walking Gosh, Two thumbs up, All applause from the audience That what you wanted? Yeah! “God I want love but it's not in the cards yet” That's what you wanted? Yeah! That's what you wanted Pollen on my lips, I love to kiss you; Missing the elliptical at Equinox A full eclipse And I've never known anything to smell to sweet as this, Just naturally I'd loved to be loved But I'm just getting famous I guess that's the trade, then A sacrifice, as if I'd not already lost my life, —Or slit my wrists Intermittent 5th dimension Tim, or what they used to call him… But he can't remember. This is major Tom, Another psalm Or poem, From Ms. Gypsy Spinning into mixes, Drifting into spiderwebs as a reminder She would write for The Times, Like the power, or a webinar She borrowed the guitar. Which then, became a gift So she dismissed him—the minister. Or who administers the medicine Of the administration Menustration , under stress of course Or as she keeps on fasting For Last Earth Seeing things? Certainly! I've been fasting, and under the influence of Dillon Francis God Dammit Hanzel Did you have to Hold her hand And have the other one Covered in Kandi On that album cover?! I can't stand it Whatever the master plan is Give me the schematics, quick So I can land a man to match with That holds a candle To that piñata Maybe I should shapeshift into Taylor Swift So I can get some dick in The right complexion… Is that too explicit? Or maybe I should just stick to Skrillex The first on my wishlist— Until Kayla Lauren (Or the other ones— And there's a lot of em; The rabbit's always on the run) Hey Allison Or Alex— Yeah, that's it I'm still an insomniac Just trying to forget that I'm black And only mildly attractive With a New New York accent And sudden onset passive aggression From the stress and pressure of synethesia And mastering my tracks Without another expensive subscription And another one Here comes another one The sun just spins in circles and whistles This is the worst I've ever written with indifference ‘Fear nothing' On, the fire burns And nothing more she ever feared It only gets better from here It only get better from here It only gets better from here Still, my love burns Like a smouldering flame Here, a star was born from the ashes, Destined for fame ‘Avarita,' She called, from the caverns of lust— The curse has been broken Come dawn, from the dusk So much for purpose— Gone was the suffering; Sending smoke signals to dieties Laying beneath all the names, The labels so sacred Such secrets and fables, The table of L E G E N D S All worlds collide in collisions of conciousness, space, and time as we travel the ever-infinite multidimensions of existence as we know it… (Or—Don't.) Rules of Time Travel: Don't. My spells began working faster and faster; in fact—this one worked instantly. What are you doing here. Whatever I'm doing. You're a madman. I fucking wish. Be careful now—- —careful for what— Don't you know—wishes come true. If that were the case I'd be the richest man in the world. —maybe you are. [A mysterious stone is presented.] What is this? [a mysterious half—smirk] Your fortune, sir. Better to not dream in color; The better to see you with my dear– I still think about coming over Suddenly, the water's clear And the tide's getting higher It's harder to hide here The heart of the Martyr Is still calling out for her; The sound of her laugher Alarms for the alters And all coming after her Neither or Neither The worse of the wiser Hither or higher, The wish of the Water As it rises And they all lived Ever after Ever after You're a very dead man, mister mouse. I was a dead mouse first. You can have anything in this store. Anything? Anything. How about this? How much is this? You like it? Yeah . Then keep it. It's yours. Wait–you're serious. Help yourself to anything you'd like. The more tha I love you– The more that you do to me But i'll just keep loving you Day in and day out, and… I'll just keep loving you Day in, and, day out and I'll just keep loving you– Day in and day out, and… Man, I be forgetting I'm recording. If it ever looks like I'm just staring off into space— It's because I am. Literally in to space. I'm watching my mixes in full synesthetic color. The way I can't see then, when I'm spinning. Mixing requires focus. For me, anyway. It's not just some mindless, monotonous thing I do on autopilot— It takes effort; Endless, choices The infinite story being told through the turn of a knob The push of a button The twist of my very own fingertips. I had to turn the colors off to mix. Synesthesia and serato are not the same language. But I became bilingual— that's how I learned. In order to tell a good story— You have to use many languages . SUNNI BLU: BALLS BPM: really doe Sample first four bars, pitch down The black Batman doesn't exist. Because The Illuminati would never allow a black man to be THAT rich. Supacree defeated the black Batman in battle before he was acknowledged into existence. Sunni BLU is the richest black man in the world and becomes the black Batman in the new franchise– Great. Now the KKK is going to try to lynch me. I don't know why, but I feel like crying— And on the way here, I felt like dying If I said I was okay, I'd be lying But at least I'm still here, At least I'm still trying It's been a whole hour, I haven't been writing Go somewhere else tonight (Or maybe I am) But I haven't had my hair done in awhile Got no more energy, Can't run the mile So I walk it out, Put on a smile— (Or trying to) Look at the time, Alright Look at where I am Now I know where to begin (It's him again, isn't it) I should be m getting it in (But it's always him, in my head) Or it isn't, And then I'm In trouble with Remind me who I am again I find money in the street, it's uncanny, really. INT. EQUINOX SPORTS CLUB MANHATTAN. SHABAAT [the full circle] ends. Music plays over the sound system. Hmm. What's this? Shazam… Wait, this sounds like— Shazam… Watch it be SHAZAM HEY ITS SKRILLEX BLŪ (Out loud, under breath) ugh, of course. I might have actually rested today if my roommate wasn't possessed by The Calorie Deficit THE NIGHT BEFORE— THE DEVIL LOOK AT ME. I'M FAT AN I EAT PRINGLES . Alright. THE DEVIL I TAKE BIG-STINKY-NON-VEGAN SHITS. SMELL IT! Ugh, shut up. THE DEVIL LISTEN TO MY DUMB MUSIC. NO. THE DEVIL WANNA HEAR WHATS IN MY SOCIAL MEDIA FEED THROUGH MY SHITTY PHONE SPEAKERS?! UGH. THE DEVIL EVERYTHING'S IN SPANISH AND YOURE PAYING WITH IT WITH YOUR TAX DOLLARS. FUCCXXXKKK YOUUUUU. THE DEVIL ok. Goodnight. *turns lights off* BLŪ continues DJing in the dark. Man, fuck this energy. I had no protein, no water, and hadn't had anything green in weeks—I was in short supply of vitamins and minerals alone, but was wearing off in coffee and had absolutely no pre-workout—. But still, it was as if I had somehow opened a portal into the very unknown itself, as if the universe had known that all I really wanted was to return to Equinox—. And I had sworn just days before I would not go to another gym lesser than, no matter how long it took. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.