[The Last Episode] - (shit show(s) in description)

[The Festival Project Presents: {ENTER THE MULTIVERSE} THE LEGEND OF… THE INFINITE SKRILLIFILES GERALD'S WORLD & ASCENSION DEATHWISH LEGENDS THE INSOMNIAC {ENTER THE MULTIVERSE} SEASON 6 - ACT II - PART II I almost left my Elfbar in Raton, But I couldn't let go; It just held on. I had to leave my skateboard back at home , But now I'm gone. Now i'm gone Now I'm sick to my stomach, I didn't want this Now I'm so sick to my stomach; I didn't want it And all the non believers, And all the sinners, saints together on a train, wishing to be rich or famous; Freedom, Plain and simple *very scary music* I warned you; No bloodshed in LA. [A single drop of blood hits the pavement with a splash, in a vivid slow motion close up of the gritty Downtown Los Angeles sidewalk] FLASHBACK; Have you ever heard of a blood oath? I knew something was wrong with that girl. It's not just that girl; It's this place. People do a lot of things to get by in LA. What is “get by” You're never gonna make it. Well, then; I was never going to anyway–so it really doesn't matter. “The Golden Girl” gal·lant adjective 1.(of a person or their behavior) brave; heroic."she had made gallant efforts to pull herself together" Similar: brave courageous valiant valorous bold plucky daring fearless intrepid heroic lionhearted stouthearted doughty mettlesome great-spirited honorable noble manly manful macho dashing daredevil death-or-glory undaunted unflinching unshrinking unafraid dauntless indomitable gutsy spunky ballsy have-a-go venturous Opposite: cowardly 2.(of a man or his behavior) giving special attention and respect to women; chivalrous."a gallant gentleman came over and kissed my hand" Similar: chivalrous gentlemanly courtly courteous respectful polite attentive gracious considerate thoughtful obliging mannerly gentle Opposite: discourteous rude nounARCHAIC /ɡəˈlant,ɡəˈlänt/ a man who pays special attention to women."he launches himself into a gallant's career of amorous intrigue" Similar: suitor wooer admirer worshipper beau sweetheart lover love beloved boyfriend young man man friend escort swain paramour verbARCHAIC /ɡəˈlant,ɡəˈlänt/ (of a man) flirt with (a woman)."Mowbray was gallanting the Polish lady" Gee' Mo had his hands all over me, which made me uncomfortable—but I had sworn solemnly to myself never to ‘tell' on any man again—and neither would I call them out, or make objections to their actions in any way; the age told story had always been ‘her word against mine ‘, making the woman or victim in question appear weak, and of course, untrustworthy—whatever that meant anyway, and not that any of his attempts were hostile, He knew I was openly celibate, and supposedly respected that—however, I just found it best to wholly keep him in the friend zone and keep the notion to myself, as he still seemed to have some kind of hope for something greater between us—and though I did consider him more than a friend, I considered him more like family than anything, his own blurred lines a shadow that had become too great to perhaps any longer be colegues—at least for now—especially that I was fleeing the US once more in complete secrecy—and though there had been some good work between the two of us, I wasn't equalling to his vibration anymore, his music sounded strange and off, and the words that would come to my mind were less easy than pushed or forced, and repetitive in sound and style. I knew that I was leaving, but had refused to tell anybody, especially Gee', who may have raised questions as to where I was going—something that seemed to be good to keep quiet entirely, as even earlier in the day I had tried to give my tour list to Equinox to see if I could bypass upgrading my membership to Destination by giving them a list of dates and cities I would visit and being given access to the visitors list in each city—I was however persuaded into not doing so and keeping my Desrination Stetus, as after attempting to give my home club my list of cities and dates, even against my own instinct and better judgement, the manager dawned a look in his eye that said “just lay low”, and as low as I could lay, I didn't know how long it would last with the onslaught of things I would have to do on my phone and computer over wifi during the long traveling time. Still, I wanted to travel lightly—and perhaps it was Divine intervention itself in the form of God when my $80 Nike backpack broke, leaving me scurrying for a new one that I could afford simply with the remaining balance on my gift card—luckily, I did find one that presumably fit my needs available for pickup, of course, even less high quality than the oversized “training” bag I had purchased just a few months before, not realizing that 32 Liters would be more than enough space, hard to fit under an airplane seat, and Ill-fitting the more petite I would become, or even as my weight fluctuated, just awkward looking in general—and though it was a very attractive bag, I had always thought it to be a little too ‘loud' and ostentatious, though I had become attracted somehow after being unable to return it as I had thought to when I had first ordered it, receiving the bag just before leaving Las Vegas, which I would return to the following day to retrieve the drum machine I had pawned as a matter of absolute survival. INT. TRAIN. WHENEVER. The best part about riding the train is… CUT TO: A FIREY PLANE CRASH CUT BACK TO: You can't fall out of the sky. (Ya.) SHIA LA— Fuck it. SHIA LABEOUF IS: “THE AIR MARSHALL” Ohh, what's this one about? Oh my God. I wasn't writing, and so I must have been in some way dead-I wasn't feeling even a whisp of inspiration, anymore—only annoyance, and slight suffering. The train ride had gone all too quickly, and though I had started chipping away at some projects, there was nothing finished. Though the inhuman vibration and hostile tone of LA was long behind me, something did linger on a bit, perhaps in the form of love or some other feeling or attachment I had formed during my time there. I was, myself, vibrating differently— waving into a motion of the unknown, and not that it mattered what would happen anymore—I hadn't anything to love, or anything to lose, and so everything just seemed a wash entirely. I had never been so dejected in my life. Now I gotta do some Sunnï Blū shit. —Hurry. Hurry what. We gotta go, Oh. Oh Deng. Oh dang. What happened? No, that's just what planet they're from. Dang. That's tricky. New York— Ehrhm. You look good. Hm. You cleaned up. Ya. Nice. Yeah it is. Nice. I said that.. Stop incepting me. No. Stop this please. Just stop sleeping. Okay. I wish you would die. I just did. WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE. idobntknow. SUNNI BLŪ I DO WHAT I WANT. Fuck, What. That's Sunnï Blu Okay? She does what she wants. That's not SUPACREE. Is it not? No. What happened? S/he chanxed. I'm a “they” –And this is how it all makes sense. What is this fucking place. “East” Ugh. Oh, there's Toronto. That makes sense. Ew. I know right. UGH. LOOK AT ALL THIS POOP. I know, huh. LOOK AT IT. Don't do maps on kx5. Should we “Earth” We should Earth. Ew. What dimension is this? Fucking sick–gross. This isnt Earth. This is Earth! What happened to it. *coughs* It seems some demonic force has taken over. *coughs* Ew. This is fucked up. Should we leave. NO! *coughs* I mean –yeah, but we should at least try to figure out what happened first. *coughs* First?! Or, later–maybe *coughs*coughs*coughs* Yeah, lets leave. FUCK. What, dude, guh. I told you no deadmau5 on the train. No you didn't. I should have. I SHOULD HAVE KILLED THAT THING WHEN I SAW IT. How would you do that? THE DEADMAUS Go to sleep. K. Did you guys “Earth” Uh, yeah, but– Was it awesome? Uhm, no. No, dude. Why, what happened? We don't know. It was bad. “Adventure is allowing the unexpected to happen to you. Exploration is experiencing what you have not experienced before.” — Richard Aldington Schenectady Ahahaha Poughkeepsie lol what. All these are places. Yeah, I know. People live in these places . Oh My God. What. Where's Whole Foods? You need Jesus. Where's he at? JESUS CHRIST Timmy, this party is lit. TIMMY TURNER Yeah, thanks bro. JESUS CHRIST I love you. TIMMY TURNER (Leaving) K that's weird. IT DOESN'T What . MAKE ANY SENSE. I simulated this experience, in the construct of time In the confines of space—just to have this moment. Uh. Train—-To Deadmau5. [BLŪ Exercises Furiously] Train—To Deadmau5. [BLŪ boards the train hurriedly] SOMETIMES— UGH. I'm all wrapped up; Wrapped up in your love –But you never come for me I'm all wrapped up in your love Wonder what comes of it You never come for me I'm all wrapped up in your love; A half smile on my face; (l love you) Always thinking of you What else can I do, but To fee stupid Can't get over you, but As the sun comes up, I wander off, Remember us I guess it's a long walk Guess i'll just fall out of it About time… About that– I'm all wrapped up, yeah Wrapped up in your love Sonny Moore had inspired some of the greatest things i had ever written in my time; and all with just one look–two eyes, and no words at all, began an infinite unravelling of words from God's hands and into my minds eye. ASCENSION Rise of Ascencia Farro. …Your Majesty. I need help. Don't burden me with your woes. I beg your pardon? No, don't beg. THE SUITE LIFE OF SUNNÏ BLŪ LINDSAY LOHAN is sleeping FACE DOWN on the couch in SunnÏ Blū's Studio Lindsay, wake up. Mmfh. [Does not wake up. At all.] Lindsay. Mmf. Tequila. [Suddenly very awake, in fact; she has suddenly perked up with an amazing glow. ] *very serious knocks on the door* Oh shit. [suddenly, more drunk again] –oh shit. *three more knocks* Where's the tequila? SUNNÏ Ah, shit. Is that your lawyer, or your manager? Shit, maybe both. SUNNI. OPEN THE DOOR . –Might even be my agent, too. OPEN THE GODDAMN DOOR. (Both, in cheesy unison, tiny rock concert} I CHIMED IN WITH A HAVENT YOU PEOPLE EVER HEARD OF— [Sunni opens the door.] No, it's “closing the door– not “open the door” “The Goddamn door.” Right, Goddamit. –where's the tequila. Where it is– [Sunni points in a wayward direction; Lindsay stumbles morning-aftery into the booth. Eww–”morning aftery” Not like that. *addendum* [That Is, just to say that this scene takes place in the afterdays haze of a very –Very Holy Shit , God. What. You rule. [Lindsay enters the booth and uncaps a bottle of tequila so effing fancy, it hurts to look at.] So fucking fancy. Was that lindsay lohan? Yeah it is. It's still Linsday Lohan, Morgen– –It's ‘Morgan”; –She's just over there now. Not “was”. Still is Lindsay Lohan. Presently. How are you even friends. FLASHBACK SUNNI BLU sup, Lindsay Lohan! LINDSAY LOHAN sup. Who are you? SUNNI BLU I'm Sunni Blū. LINDSAY LOHAN LIKE—the rapper?! SUNNI BLU Not “like”. Am. LINDSAY LOHAN tight. SUNNI BLU. Sup. LINDSAY LOHAN Sup. SUNNI BLU I heard you like to party. LINDSAY LOHAN I like to party. SUNNI BLU —and, you DJ. LINDSAY LOHAN Oh yeah, huh! I was a DJ once. SUNNI BLU so was I. CUT BACK TO: SUNNI BLU now we're besties. I might be trapped in this hell, here, I figure But it's over when it's over, I cannot live here, Or anywhere Here's my liver; All he needed was a sliver, the silver lizard But I gave him the whole thing The whole thing The whole thing I swallowed the whole world whole, once And now it all happens, Over and over; A simple digestion And I've got no questions left No intuition, either No black characters, No brown eyes; I hate my life I hate my life Blonde is good, And redheads are nice; I hate my life I hate my life ‘Rich white peope are so fucking nasty sometimes' I had the best and the worst of it at Equinox, and while I considered it a miracle that I had even come so far, as to consider luxury fitness a priority and absolute necessity, even forgoing eating what I wanted or other comforts in paying my gym dues, now I had given myself what I thought to be the opportunity of a lifetime—it was on my bucket list, at least last time I checked, to visit Equinox in every city the chain had locations—and having put all my time and every fiber of my being into just ‘staying afloat', my idea of ‘living a little' was to workout as much as possible, while I still could—-as money was well beyond running dry just out or the sheer expense of traveling—or now—“touring”, as I would consider it, using my music as a means of not appearing homeless and destitute, and using my podcast as a medium for its promotion—though, I still didn't know where my listeners or downloads were coming from, and my Spotify, the last I had checked, had “0 monthly listeners” it was beginning again to be clear how much the United States hated black people, for whatever reason— and how privelege and power had overtaken even the best people's better senses. Humanity was slipping away—and so was I; the best I could do was to make my body as comfortable to live in as possible, and for whatever reason, I was drawn to Equinox to do so. Anandar or someone like her had once said, the key to being rich, is to spend money like you're rich, no matter the amount of money you had—knowing that in doing so, your money would multiply tenfold. I had never done so before, but between Equinox and my food stamps being stolen, the amount of money I had been draining myself of did indeed make me feel and look as if I had endless disposable income—and perhaps I did somehow—somewhere in the near future , if I could just convince myself I really was as special as my writing made me seem, or feel, simply reading it myself, or having chosen a carefully select few to read it. I was, indeed, a genius: the problem was, geniuses and writers particularly up to then had been notoriously famous for dying alone, penniless and undiscovered, and very often—by our own hands. Eleven since, I left Hell, and been in Heaven since I'm heaven sent I burn incense —A CROSS DIMENSIONAL PARALLEL REALITY. The taste of bile filled my mouth and sat on the back of my tongue as I tried to avoid the inevitability of swallowing it; it had all been worth it—the train to Hollywood had not altogether been as horrible as it usually was on The Expo—and as I rode 9 stops exactly into my old stomping grounds, I exited the Hollywood and Vine metro station to a nostalgic and familiar territory; this is where my Hollywood story had started, and had apparently yet to end, as I swept the Walk of Fame in a way I supposed I never had, the shadow of my old self following not behind, but directly overhead; I was, indeed, just a ghost. I ended up at Amoeba Music, hair dripping wet, and, though I had yet to eat in a couple of days, not feeling as if I had quite done a proper workout, rushed in the final hour to Hollywood, as the downtown location had been closed; Fine by me, as I was over and done with the downtown atmosphere altogether, and though I wasn't a particular fan of the new Amoeba Music location, I had felt a close calling to go to Hollywood that day, even before I knew I would have to—and ending up there anyway seemed to be another synchronicity indeed. ‘Spend it on something you love.' The voice had said, perhaps just my own—but not sounding anything at all like my own internal dialogue. No, this voice seemed entirely more divine, and so I took it as such, and was careful not to spend any of the carefully collected and specially marked dollar bills on anything I absolutely didn't love—and though I was terrified of the overall outcome of everything—now jobless, or rather, without secured income—my job having become myself in the process of writing, making music, and improving my physique to its peak performance and physical fitness, I had been careful not to spend any money at all on anything I absolutely didn't need. However, I did need music after all, and loved it more than anything, besides my own son—who did at least ask about me, after all, according to my estranged ex, who I had shielded myself from entirely, changing my name, my number, and my location for my own safety and peace of mind, rather than for aesthetic reasons, as anyone might have thought. But really, no one might have thought at all, as I was careful to leave everyone and everything behind that had come with my birth name, besides my father, my son, and my beloved Auntie, who I still allowed to call me “Cree”, though I had at least hinted at at an aycronym of my new name, giving her my address in case of emergency, or any other reason. But, I hadn't enough money to pay my mailbox, and so even that was irrelevant, as everything was. Suicide By Cop. Maybe. Idk. Look: the tinier you are—the bigger my dick seems. I get it. So be tiny. I like cereal. I like cake. I like cookies. I like shakes. So you know what. What. That's okay. REAPER Give me my scythe, Billie. BILLIE ELLISH It's a miniature scythe. REAPER Yeah—my—miniature scythe. BILLIE ELLISH It's mine now. REAPER No, it's not— BILLIE ELLISH But—you gave it to me. REAPER It came with the job. BILLIE ELLISH The job sucked! REAPER I know that! “LIL' BITZ” I'm just mildly concerned that LAPD squad cars are still 1995 crown Vic's. Like: how do you even catch sometime in a mazzerati? The guy who drives a mazzeratti's like: hah. You don't. 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 Amphetamine 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. It's just some Hollywood shit Isn't it fabulous This is some Hollywood shiy Isn't it fabulous 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 (PARIS SHOOT) Hoes look fake, like a blow up doll Harlem shake, i'm bout to blow up ya'll We think we may have found your home planet. Oh, you think? Look at this. [DUFF views the distant soarkling object through the telescope lens, squinting.] Is that it?! I don't know… [Suddenly, as DIFF begins to focus on the planet; a high pitched ring only DUFF seems to hear strikes her away from the telescope, writhing in pain.] Woah, what happened?! Are you okay?! Is she okay?! [DUFF falls into a coma] What, no way. WhT is this. It's a show. WhTs it called. Idk. Shut up. You shut up. I'm watching —shhh! Call the doctor! MEANWHILE, IN HOLLYWOOD Girl. Hm. Look at these motherfuckets* Ooh, keep that. Wow. Huh. The entire reason for turning on my phone was to write about that experience. Which experience? I don't know, I've had like ten experiences since I walked into that door—and I wanted to write about all of them. Uh huh. But I lost it. You lost it? Not all of it. Well. Some of it. Which ones did you keep? The Good ones Oh shit, it's almost coming back to me Uh. First of all. —French people in love are cute. What. That shit is literally the cutest thing ever. French people—in love—speaking French. That shit is sexy Did you see his eyes? That's okay, Cree— I ‘That'll be enough. Ugh. Now, class— It's time for a sonnet, or synonym Senators, gentlemen— Get in your rhythm and trip to this; Cause it's about to get lit again: Call me illiterate, ignorant, negligent; Never irrelevant, disheveled or leveled since, This entrance is Heaven sent Evidence of everlasting natural intelligence That'll do. Okay. Let's break fast, I make gas, And bake snacks; I lay facts I slay slacks I'm maybacks You may ask Questions about the lesson, With a raised hand —okay class? . . . Oh— You forgot it was a lesson? Let me reflect and inspect, Resurrect the message just a bit— I'm the profession, If I ask, They answer “Yessir” I guess, er Thet yur just a jester Dunce hat on your ass Last, and rhe past semester, Ask my sweater: Your girl would probably wear it If I let her Oooh. 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 10.60 2.94 7.75 Strange things happen when you change your vibration to Skrillex. It had been a fucking disasterous 24 hours l; not that I hadn't expected it to be, with Vegas in mind as the shithole capitol of the world, or at least the US, which was indeed turning to shit. Street after street filled with bodies, nearly dead but not—and not a care in the world at all by anyone who could help for the working class, nearly succumbed to poverty, or the homeless, by the millions in numbers rather than the mere thousands the false media portrayed as still an absolute crisis and state of emergency, however downplaying the numbers by millions, as they had already learned that the docile American public could be persuaded or made to move with numbers by the “pandemic”, a fear mongering new world order which had proved that almost no Americans could do math, or anything besides scroll and take selfies. GUESS WHAT DAY IT IS. Oh no. Not Skrillex Day, is it—? ITS SKRILLRX DAY, BIIITCH. Ugh. Fuck Yeah, you lil bitch. I'm spaced out, listing to Skrillex on sunset No shuffle I forgot about this one: It makes my lips numb This bitch dumb I'. Just a number! I don't really give a fuck ! If I had a Benz and blunt— I'd prob'ly roll my windows up Sunni with da big butt Come and get ya duck sucked I would say sunni blū But then I'd probably get some Crips up Ignorant indigenous ninjer Bendit like bender remember Send er a message when you get here Mister Fuck, I hate this. RULES OF TRAVEL ENTER THE MULTIVERSE SEASON 6 - ACT II I almost left my Elfbar in Raton, But I couldn't let go; It just held on. I had to leave my skateboard back at home , But now I'm gone. Now i'm gone Now I'm sick to my stomach, I didn't want this Now I'm so sick to my stomach; I didn't want it And all the non believers, And all the sinners, saints together on a train, wishing to be rich or famous; Freedom, Plain and simple *very scary music* I warned you; No bloodshed in LA. [A single drop of blood hits the pavement with a splash, in a vivid slow motion close up of the gritty Downto Los Angeles sidewalk] FLASHBACK; Have you ever heard of a blood oath? I knew something was wrong with that girl. It's not just that girl; It's this place. People do a lot of things to get by in LA. What is “get by” You're never gonna make it Well, then; I was never going to anyway–so it really doesn't matter. gal·lant adjective 1.(of a person or their behavior) brave; heroic."she had made gallant efforts to pull herself together" Similar: brave courageous valiant valorous bold plucky daring fearless intrepid heroic lionhearted stouthearted doughty mettlesome great-spirited honorable noble manly manful macho dashing daredevil death-or-glory undaunted unflinching unshrinking unafraid dauntless indomitable gutsy spunky ballsy have-a-go venturous Opposite: cowardly 2.(of a man or his behavior) giving special attention and respect to women; chivalrous."a gallant gentleman came over and kissed my hand" Similar: chivalrous gentlemanly courtly courteous respectful polite attentive gracious considerate thoughtful obliging mannerly gentle Opposite: discourteous rude nounARCHAIC /ɡəˈlant,ɡəˈlänt/ a man who pays special attention to women."he launches himself into a gallant's career of amorous intrigue" Similar: suitor wooer admirer worshipper beau sweetheart lover love beloved boyfriend young man man friend escort swain paramour verbARCHAIC /ɡəˈlant,ɡəˈlänt/ (of a man) flirt with (a woman)."Mowbray was gallanting the Polish lady" Gee' Moo had his hands all over me, which made me uncomfortable—but I had sworn solemnly to myself never to ‘tell' on any man again—and neither would I call them out, or make objections to their actions in any way; the age told story had always been ‘her word against mine ‘, making the woman or victim in question appear weak, and of course, untrustworthy—whatever that meant anyway, and not that any of his attempts were hostile, He knew I was openly celibate, and supposedly respected that—however, I just found it best to wholly keep him in the friend zone and keep the notion to myself, as he still seemed to have some kind of hope for something greater between us—and though I did consider him more than a friend, I considered him more like family than anything, his own blurred lines a shadow that had become too great to perhaps any longer be colegues—at least for now—especially that I was fleeing the US once more in complete secrecy—and though there had been some good work between the two of us, I wasn't equalling to his vibration anymore, his music sounded strange and off, and the words that would come to my mind were less easy than pushed or forced, and repetitive in sound and style. I knew that I was leaving, but had refused to tell anybody, especially Gee', who may have raised questions as to where I was going—something that seemed to be good to keep quiet entirely, as even earlier in the day I had tried to give my tour list to Equinox to see if I could bypass upgrading my membership to Destination by giving them a list of dates and cities I would visit and being given access to the visitors list in each city—I was however persuaded into not doing so and keeping my Desrination Stetus, as after attempting to give my home club my list of cities and dates, even against my own instinct and better judgement, the manager dawned a look in his eye that said “just lay low”, and as low as I could lay, I didn't know how long it would last with the onslaught of things I would have to do on my phone and computer over wifi during the long traveling time. Still, I wanted to travel lightly—and perhaps it was Divine intervention itself in the form of God when my $80 Nike backpack broke, leaving me scurrying for a new one that I could afford simply with the remaining balance on my gift card—luckily, I did find one that presumably fit my needs available for pickup, of course, even less high quality than the oversized “training” bag I had purchased just a few months before, not realizing that 32 Liters would be more than enough space, hard to fit under an airplane seat, and Ill-fitting the more petite I would become, or even as my weight fluctuated, just awkward looking in general—and though it was a very attractive bag, I had always thought it to be a little too ‘loud' and ostentatious, though I had become attracted somehow after being unable to return it as I had thought to when I had first ordered it, receiving the bag just before leaving Las Vegas, which I would return to the following day to retrieve the drum machine I had pawned as a matter of absolute survival. The best part about riding the train is… CUT TO: A firey plane crash CUT BACK TO You can't fall out of the sky. (Ya.) SHIA LA— Fuck it. SHIA IS “THE AIR MARSHALL” Ohh, what's this one about? Oh my God. I wasn't writing, and so I must have been in some way dead-I wasn't feeling even a whisp of inspiration, anymore—only annoyance, and slight suffering. The train to chugs I had gone all too quickly, and though I had started chipping away at some projects, there was nothing finished. Though the inhuman vibration and hostile tone of LA was long behind me, something did linger on a bit, perhaps in the form of love or some other feeling or attachment I had formed during my time there. I was, myself, vibrating differently— waving into a motion of the unknown, and not that it mattered what would happen anymore—I hadn't anything to love, or anything to lose, and so everything just seemed a wash entirely. I had never been so dejected in my life. Now I gotta do some Sunnï Blū shit. —Hurry. Hurry what. We gotta go, Oh. Oh Deng. Oh dang. What happened? No, that's just what planet they're from. Dang. That's tricky. New York— Ehrhm. You look good. Hm. You cleaned up. Ya. Nice. Yeah it is. Nice. I said that.. Stop incepting me. No. Stop this please please. Just stop sleeping. Okay. I wish you would die. I just did. WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE. idobntknow. SUNNI BLŪ I DO WHAT I WANT. Fuck, What. That's sunni Blu Okay? She does what she wants. That's not supacree Is it not? No. What happened? S/he chanxed. I'm a “they” –And this is how it all makes sense. What is this fucking place. “East” Ugh. Oh, there's Toronto. That makes sense. Ew. I know right. UGH. LOOK AT ALL THIS POOP. I know, huh. LOOK AT IT. Don't do maps on kx5. Should we “Earth” We should Earth. Ew. What dimension is this? Fucking sick–gross. This isnt Earth. This is Earth! What happened to it. *coughs* It seems some demonic force has taken over. *coughs* Ew. This is fucked up. Should we leave. NO! *coughs* I mean –yeah, but we should at least try to figure out what happened first. *coughs* First?! Or, later–maybe *coughs*coughs*coughs* Yeah, lets leave. FUCK. What, dude, guh I told you no deadmau5 on the train. No you didn't. I should have. I SHOULD HAVE KILLED THAT THING WHEN I SAW IT. How would you do that? THE DEADMAUS Go to sleep. K. Did you guys “Earth” Uh, yeah, but– Was it awesome? Uhm, no. No, dude. Why, what happened? We don't know. It was bad. “Adventure is allowing the unexpected to happen to you. Exploration is experiencing what you have not experienced before.” — Richard Aldington Schenectady Ahahaha Poughkeepsie lol what. All these are places. Yeah, I know. People live in these places . Oh My God. What. Where's Whole Foods? You need Jesus. Where's he at? JESUS CHRIST Timmy, this party is lit. TIMMY TURNER Yeah, thanks bro. JESUS CHRIST I love you. TIMMY TURNER (eaving) K that's weird. IT DOESN”T. What . MAKE ANY SENSE. I simulated this experience, in the construct of time In the confines of time and space—just to have this moment. Uh. Train—-To Deadmau5. [BLŪ Exercises Furiously] Train—To Deadmau5. [BLŪ boards the train hurriedly] SOMETIMES— I'm all wrapped up; Wrapped up in your love –But you never come for me I'm all wrapped up in your love Wonder what comes of it You never come for me I'm all wrapped up in your love; A half smile on my face; (l love you) Always thinking of you What else can I do, but To fee stupid Can't get over you, but As the sun comes up, I wander off, Remember us I guess it's a long walk Guess i'll just fall out of it About time… About that– I'm all wrapped up, yeah Wrapped up in your love Sonny Moore had inspired some of the greatest thing i had ever written in my time; and all with just one look–two eyes, and no words at all, began an infinite unravelling of words from God's hands and into my minds eye. Farro. …Your Majesty. I need help. Don't burden me with your woes. I beg your pardon? No, don't beg. LINDSAY LOHAN is sleeping FACE DOWN on the couch in SunnÏ Blū's Studio Lindsay, wake up. Mmfh. [Does not wake up. At all.] Lindsay. Mmf. Tequila. [Suddenly very awake, in fact; she has suddenly perked up with an amazing glow. ] *very serious knocks on the door* Oh shit. [suddenly, more drunk again] –oh shit. *three more knocks* Where's the tequila? SUNNÏ Ah, shit. Is that your lawyer, or your manager? Shit, maybe both. SUNNI. OPEN THE DOOR . –Might even be my agent, too. OPEN THE GODDAMN DOOR. (Both, in cheesy unison, tiny rock concert} I CHIMED IN WITH A HAVENT YOU PEOPLE EVER HEARD OF [Sunni opens the door. No, it's “closing the door– not “open the door” “The Goddamn door.” Right, Goddamit. –where's the tequila. Where it is– [Sunni points in a wayward direction; Lindsay stumbles morning-aftery into the booth. Eww–”morning aftery” Not like that. *addendum* [That Is, just to say that this scene takes place in the afterdays haze of a very –Very Holy Shit , God. What. You rule. [Lindsay enters the booth and uncaps a bottle of tequila so effing fancy, it hurts to look at.] So fucking fancy. Was that lindsay lohan? Yeah it is. It's still lindsay logan, Morgen– –It's ‘Morgan” –She's just over there now. Not “was” How are you even friends. FLASHBACK SUNNI BLU sup, Lindsay Lohan! LINDSAY LOHAN sup. Who are you? SUNNI BLU I'm Sunni Blū LINDSAY LOHAN LIKE—the rapper. SUNNI BLU Not “like”. Am. LINDSAY LOHAN tight. SUNNI BLU. Sup. LINDSAY LOHAN Sup. SUNNI BLU I heard you like to party. LINDSAY LOHAN I like to party. SUNNI BLU —and, you DJ. LINDSAY LOHAN Oh yeah, huh! I was a DJ once. SUNNI BLU so was I. CUT BACK TO: SUNNI BLU now we're besties. I might be trapped in this hell, here, I figure But it's over when it's over, I cannot live here, Or anywhere Here's my liver; All he needed was a sliver, the silver lizard But I have him the whole thing The whole thing The whole thing I swallowed the whole world whole, once And now it all happens, Over and over; A simple digestion And I've got no questions left No intuition, either No black characters, No brown eyes; I hate my life I hate my life Blonde is good, And redheads are nice; I hate my life I hate my life ‘Rich white peope are so fucking nasty sometimes' I had the best and the worst of it at Equinox, and while I considered it a miracle that I had even come so far, as to consider luxury fitness a priority and absolute necessity, even forgoing eating what I wanted or other comforts in paying my gym dues, now I had given myself what I thought to be the opportunity of a lifetime—it was on my bucket list, at least last time I checked, to visit Equinox in every city the chain had locations—and having put all my time and every fiber of my being into just ‘staying afloat', my idea of ‘living a little' was to workout as much as possible, while I still could—-as money was well beyond running dry just out or the sheer expense of traveling—or now—“touring”, as I would consider it, using my music as a means of not appearing homeless and destitute, and using my podcast as a medium for its promotion—though, I still didn't know where my listeners or downloads were coming from, and my Spotify, the last I had checked, had “0 monthly listeners” it was beginning again to be clear how much the United States hated black people, for whatever reason— and how privelege and power had overtaken even the best people's better senses. Humanity was slipping away—and so was I; the best I could do was to make my body as comfortable to live in as possible, and for whatever reason, I was drawn to Equinox to do so. Anandar or someone like her had once said, the key to being rich, is to spend money like you're rich, no matter the amount of money you had—knowing that in doing so, your money would multiply tenfold. I had never done so before, but between Equinox and my food stamps being stolen, the amount of money I had been draining myself of did indeed make me feel and look as if I had endless disposable income—and perhaps I did somehow—somewhere in the near future , if I could just convince myself I really was as special as my writing made me seem, or feel, simply reading it myself, or having chosen a carefully select few to read it. I was, indeed, a genius: the problem was, geniuses and writers particularly up to then had been notoriously famous for dying alone, penniless and undiscovered, and very often—by our own hands. Eleven since, I left Hell, and been in Heaven since I'm heaven sent I burn incense The taste of bile filled my mouth and sat on the back of my tongue as I tried to avoid the inevitability of swallowing it; it had all been worth it—the train to Hollywood had not altogether been as horrible as it usually was on The Expo—and as I rode 9 stops exactly into my old stomping grounds, I exited the Hollywood and Vine metro station to a nostalgic and familiar territory; this is where my Hollywood story had started, and had apparently yet to end, as I swept the Walk of Fame in a way I supposed I never had, the shadow of my old self following not behind, but directly overhead; I was, indeed, just a ghost. I ended up at Amoeba Music, hair dripping wet, and, though I had yet to eat in a couple of days, not feeling as if I had quite done a proper workout, rushed in the final hour to Hollywood, as the downtown location had been closed; Fine by me, as I was over and done with the downtown atmosphere altogether, and though I wasn't a particular fan of the new Amoeba Music location, I had felt a close calling to go to Hollywood that day, even before I knew I would have to—and ending up there anyway seemed to be another synchronicity indeed. ‘Spend it on something you love.' The voice had said, perhaps just my own—but not sounding anything at all like my own internal dialogue. No, this voice seemed entirely more divine, and so I took it as such, and was careful not to spend any of the carefully collected and specially marked dollar bills on anything I absolutely didn't love—and though I was terrified of the overall outcome of everything—now jobless, or rather, without secured income—my job having become myself in the process of writing, making music, and improving my physique to its peak performance and physical fitness, I had been careful not to spend any money at all on anything I absolutely didn't need. However, I did need music after all, and loved it more than anything, besides my own son—who did at least ask about me, after all, according to my estranged ex, who I had shielded myself from entirely, changing my name, my number, and my location for my own safety and peace of mind, rather than for aesthetic reasons, as anyone might have thought. But really, no one might have thought at all, as I was careful to leave everyone and everything behind that had come with my birth name, besides my father, my son, and my beloved Auntie, who I still allowed to call me “Cree”, though I had at least hinted at at an aycronym of my new name, giving her my address in case of emergency, or any other reason. But, I hadn't enough money to pay my mailbox, and so even that was irrelevant, as everything was. Look: the tinier you are—the bigger my dick seems. I get it. So be tiny. I like cereal. I like cake. I like cookies. I like shakes. So you know what. What. That's okay. REAPER Give me my scythe, Billie. BILLIE ELLISH It's a miniature scythe. REAPER Yeah—my—miniature scythe. BILLIE ELLISH It's mine now. REAPER No, it's not— BILLIE ELLISH But—you gave it to me. REAPER It came with the job. BILLIE ELLISH The job sucked! REAPER I know that! I'm just mildly concerned that LAPD squad cars are still 1995 crown Vic's. Like: how do you even catch sometime in a mazzerati? The guy who drives a mazzeratti's like: hah. You don't. 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 parachutes Hoes look fake, like a blow up doll Harlem shake, i'm bout to blow up ya'll We think we may have found your home planet. Oh, you think? Look at this'd [DUFF views the distant soarkling object through the telescope lens, squinting.] Is that it?! I don't know… [Suddenly, as DIFF begins to focus on the planet; a high pitched ring only DUFF seems to hear strikes her away from the telescope, writhing in pain.] Woah, what happened?! Are you okay?! Is she okay?! [DUFF falls into a coma] What, no way. WhT is this. It's a show. WhTs it called. Idk. Shut up. You shut up. I'm watching —shhh! Call the doctor! DUFF! What's your name again? …Are you serious? No, I'm kidding. (No, I actually forgot what I named this character) I think it's “Joel” I doubt that. What was it. Idk, moving on. …did you forget? Yeah, I forgot. It's okay! Yeah, I guess. We found you!! Yeah. Sorry we destroyed the planet— —only like half. It's totally destroyed. It was like that before you guys landed. —? Just Trust me. Why does it look like somebody turned you upside down? I was “paralyzed” What's that mean? It happens here. That sounds horrible. This place sucks. It's really far. Girl. Hm. Look at these motherfuckets* Ooh, keep that. Wow. Huh. The entire reason for turning on my phone was to write about that experience. Which experience? I don't know, I've had like ten experiences since I walked into that door—and I wanted to write about all of them. Uh huh. But I lost it. You lost it? Not all of it. Well. Some of it. Which ones did you keep? The Good ones Oh shit, it's almost coming back to me Uh. First of all. —French people in love are cute. What. That shit is literally the cutest thing ever. French people—in love—speaking French. That shit is sexy Did you see his eyes? That's okay, Cree— I ‘That'll be enough. Ugh. Now, class— It's time for a sonnet, or synonym Senators, gentlemen— Get in your rhythm and trip to this; Cause it's about to get lit again: Call me illiterate, ignorant, negligent; Never irrelevant, disheveled or leveled since, This entrance is Heaven sent Evidence of everlasting natural intelligence That'll do. Okay. Let's break fast, I make gas, And bake snacks; I lay facts I slay slacks I'm maybacks You may ask Questions about the lesson, With a raised hand —okay class? . . . Oh— You forgot it was a lesson? Let me reflect and inspect, Resurrect the message just a bit— I'm the profession, If I ask, They answer “Yessir” I guess, er Thet yur just a jester Dunce hat on your ass Last, and rhe past semester, Ask my sweater: Your girl would probably wear it If I let her Oooh. 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 10.60 2.94 7.75 Strange things happen when you change your vibration to Skrillex. It had been a fucking disasterous 24 hours l; not that I hadn't expected it to be, with Vegas in mind as the shithole capitol of the world, or at least the US, which was indeed turning to shit. Street after street filled with bodies, nearly dead but not—and not a care in the world at all by anyone who could help for the working class, nearly succumbed to poverty, or the homeless, by the millions in numbers rather than the mere thousands the false media portrayed as still an absolute crisis and state of emergency, however downplaying the numbers by millions, as they had already learned that the docile American public could be persuaded or made to move with numbers by the “pandemic”, a fear mongering new world order which had proved that almost no Americans could do math, or anything besides scroll and take selfies. GUESS WHAT DAY IT IS. Oh no. Not Skrillex Day, is it—? ITS SKRILLRX DAY, BIIITCH. Ugh. Fuck Yeah, you lil bitch. I'm spaced out, listing to Skrillex on sunset No shuffle I forgot about this one: It makes my lips numb This bitch dumb I'. Just a number! I don't really give a fuck ! If I had a Benz and blunt— I'd prob'ly roll my windows up Sunni with da big butt Come and get ya duck sucked I would say sunni blū But then I'd probably get some Crips up Ignorant indigenous ninjer Bendit like bender remember Send er a message when you get here Mister Fuck, I hate this. RULES OF TRAVEL Always leave things better than you found it. Well, I feel better, Thanks , God. Yep, no problem. Okay. *lays down momentarily* [half beat] Back to Work. [Suddenly Getting Up] OkayZ. Do ya'll remember—the time on the train. “ damn, I shoulda saw that movie with Carmella. This is hilarious. Watch. Agh, God. What is it. Now it's the hard part; I gotta do some technical shit. Mm. Like what: Put it on the net. don't. Uh. Too late, bitch. ::||pause. is this train gonna go. Is it. Innit. K. [train starts moving] Hm. I lost the thought, In awe of it all— The saga I wrote, and The words that would fall, All around me; The words that I saw, And the words that had found me The words that I was, And could not be without being Unh. That'll do. Lol what is up with this train. CONDUCTOR. Yo, it's me. Who the fuxk is this. What is this operation. Lol. Damn, what . 3D has its perks This is way beyond 3D. I know. bitch. **shh, don't cuss. What. It's for the kidsZ No, it isn't. It's for the kiddzzz. What. No. Yes: NoS For thee kids. So I turn 30 and my body keeps reminding me that I'm a baby machines Okay: What. Ew, that's gross. Lol. Only cause she's 30. What. Agism: it's real. EVERYTHING IS REAL. What. Uh. RAIL. —WHAt— —RAIL— Damn. … Zzz … SUPACREEA* is seated on the LOUNGE car in COACH. Don't capitalize coach. YOU're IN COAH. Oh hell yeah. What's in there. Not you. Okay, I'll be SUPACREE A, And you'll be SUPACREE B. Okay. You're not gonna disagree to being ‘B' instead of A, like me? I am you. I don't care. Fine. . . . I want to be SUPACREE B No take backs. SUPACREE A and SUOACREE B are DUPLICATES. DAMN, YOU DUPLICATED? Not on purpose! DAMN. This goes beyond shapeshiftig. I didn't know you could do that. I could do that. Oh. ‘Oh' Ugh I got this feeling in my soul— —I got this stone inside my palm— I got this pulling in my heart— —i feel like you could be the one; But you're gone, now Gone, gone, gone Gone gone, gone Gone, gone, gone Gone, gone, gone —and when there's no where left to run; —and there's no need to wander off— —and there is no one left to love— I guess I'll see you when you're gone Gone, gone, gone Gone gone, gone Gone, gone, gone Gone, gone, gone I'm gonna go ahead and take this on. Oh, God, No! —not because I want to; But why, then?! Because I gotta. You came a long way, kid. Where am I now? Oh, you're still nowhere. ITS NO FAIR. Life isn't fair, Amanda. But MoooooOO0000M. NO. BUT MO— NO—no SUPACREE show tonight! But— I told you, clean your room. I don't know what I am. You're a fairy. Pretty scary fairy. It'll do, though. WANDA. NO. COME, ON, WANDA NO. WANDA, COME ON. WAKANDA FOR— No, no black Panther. What, why not? That movie's racist. Wha-?! CUT TO: I didn't want to do it this way, kid. Who are you? The crypt keeper. Oh. Yeah. Am I Dead? Yeah. Wow. Yeah. Hm. Yep. Can I see your scythe? You wanna see? Yeah, it's nice— *SCYLCE!* Lol. AOh my god AAAAHHHHHJH—Drake BELL. Don't worry, he's an ansolary character. Wat. Kinda. Damn. Season 6 is on FIRE THE HOLLYWOOD PEOLPLE ahem. Hollywood is on fire. SUPACREE WHELP. I'm out. No, don't go. SKRILLEX DONT LEAVE ME LIKE THIS. SONNY Fuck it, I'm in Korea. Or Thailand, or whatever. Something like that. “Something like that.” Ahem. Where's Dillon Francis. LITERALLY FUCKING EVERYONE FUCK DILLON FRANCIS. Damn. YeH, that. Well, God forbid anything actually happens to that guy. GOD I don't forbid anything. It's a free world. AHAHAHAHHAHA AHAHAHAHAHJAHAHJJA AHAHAHHA STOP. What. Go back. WhT. For. Just. Go back. For what. I thought I saw somethings Something like what. Something. Just. Ugh. JUST REWIND. SUPACREE has replaced the remote with THE SYNETHESIA PANEL MINI *life itself rewinds* What— —the —fuck. What. You died doing whippets, bro?! Yeah, I guess. That's so stupid. OKAY, SO THIS IS WHERE I COME IN. What are you guys doing. Playing cosmic alchemy. That's so dumb. Let me play. We already started. SO. Build a new civilization. No. Oh, come on. No, Satan. Let me play, or I'll kill you all. [group laughter initiated infinitely] Fine, I'll play my own game. Go on, then. Fuck you guys. What's that thing on your neck? What's that thing on your arm? Mine's a sigil— —well, mine's a charm Well, I must be a snake— —so I must be the basket. Math has met Magic; Fire to Ashes What. Is this. Idk. I—don't like it. It's kinda dark. Yeah, well— Make this light into air. —into—air Yes. KA… Just do, it already. So wait, is deadmau5 like— —I think he's a sorcerer, or something —he's a sorcerer, or something. What is THIS. This is science. What's it DO. It communicates specifics. Specifics of what? —ugh. —agh. Forget it. Oh, you will. What'd you say?! Mnfhmnfh. —agh! Those are probably the oldest two people I've ever seen. Yeah, for sure. They look crusty. Are they married. I think so. Or they're brother and sister Ew, don't be gross. I mean, hey— I thought it was two old dudes! Maybe they're gay. I thought it was two old chicks. Maybe they're gay. Dude— What are we even watching? Idk, I'm fried. FRY. What, Leela?! WHAT. GET IN HERE. Oh shit, it's futurama! I forgot about— MORTYYYYYYYYY. What the fuck! AL! WHAT PEG, WHAT?! Oh shit, damn WhT is this. Idk. Who are you? Who the fuck are any of you— I— Except Skrillex. I know him. Yeah, everybody knows him. Yeh. Everybody knows everybody in here. Except me. Yeah, dude, exactly. Who are you again. Did you make your list? Uh, for what? Hah, you'll see. ️ Damn, the Illuminati is out of control. What'd they send you this time, Sunni? (More on that later) Damn, dude, what is wrong with you? I don't know—you tell me. You look Hollywood as fuck right now. *Hollywood as Fuck* CUT TO: FI—FI-FOE-FUM. CUT BACK TO: that's what's wrong? I didn't say that's what's wrong with you. Maybe it is. —nah, man, that's probably what's right with you. *Hollywood As Fuck* HOLLYWOOD. We're burning alive. SUPACREE just enjoy it. Hell is cold. I like cold! SUPACREE unless you like cold. Then it's hot. THIS IS HOT. Well yeah, it's on fire, so— Yo— —I know, man. The only way you're ever gonna know what's in this piñata— —I know, man— —is if you bust it open. GERALD. …don't leave me here. You're not coming with me!! I have to. If you leave that piñata here, I'll burn it. Burn it, I was thinking about doing the same thing. Oh, my God. I wonder how much weight I'd have to lose to be 100 pounds. Be 100 pounds. 100 pounds?! Where are my organs gonna go?! Idk. Somewhere. Maybe they'll move. UTERUS I fucking quit. OVARIES We're going, too. Oh no. What. My biological clock broke. What. What. What?! WHATWHATWHAT?! Oh, South Park, too? Yeah, I guess. In wholesome truth and in reality, I was having the hardest time coming to grips with the whole UHH what do we call this one? Idk. We have so far The Skrillex Incident The Sonny Conundrum Is that what it was? Idk. I have to go back— anyway. I'm on a time crunch. *literal crunches* Fuck man, I love Equinox. Why tho. Idk. Maybe Eucalyptus, or something. Aliocha, you dumb shit. I am dead. You left me here on this dumb ass planet. It is you. I know that. I am you. Go be dead. Yes, I am. UGH. Now it was hurting in my heart and in my dreams; He had somehow made his way into my mind, and into my soul—or maybe, like I always thought, it really all was one thing—one soul, one heart, and one love, trying to make sense of it all through xo nicodemus* Dope ass rapper* Hole up Have you ever tried deadmau5 Oh yeah, man. Have you ever tried deadmau5 on LA? DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMNN! I CAN FLY! I'm fucking hiuiiiiigh as fuck right now. Shit, I'm high as fuxk right now. Okay, everybody with blue eyes, on this side of the room. [three move aside] I'm gonna kill you guys first. They're actually hazel! Theyre Hazel! I've been told “Jade” Oh, Jade, huh. Yeah, I think. Heh. Hm. [beat] You die first. *gulps* As soon as I boarded the trainI felt something good. I had carried a special feeling around with me all day, but I didn't know what—maybe, butterflies or something, if only met with the sudden sickness I had also seated in my soul, which had grown from only a feeling, and now into full turmoil, as my newest muse has too found it's way into my dreams, if only exacerbated by the exhaustion and panic I had been facing. I quickly moved from my assigned seat as the train started slowly moving out of the station. ‘I'm sick of hearing Spanish, Ugh' I thought, of course, quietly to myself. At least Mexican Spanish, for the time being—call it envious of my Latin-American counterparts that were lucky enough to have family above and below the border, the best of both worlds TICKETS PLEASE. What the fuck, really. Damn, he's real! I'm somewhere between life and death, On my way to nowhere fast And who knows low long it lasts; Living on a dying planet What is this. It's your walk. What a trip. I don't know how to explain any of this, really! ‘Okay, I forgot about Amish people entirely.' You—forgot the Amish? Yeah, I forgot! They worship you! What?! For what!! Here. What is this. It's consciousness. Uh. KThxBye. HEY JESUS. Hey what. You should jump off a tree. For what. I don't know. Okay. Damn, I've been on this train for three hours? Yeah, I guess. What the fuck. Most of it was deadmau5. No, before that. There's something weird about this fucking train. TICKETS PLEASE. this isn't real. Oh, it is. No, it isn't. I'm dead. Fuck, I died. I'm definitely dead. I don't get it. What. I'm the whole thing? Yep, you're everything. then why does— Hm. Nothing. I'm awesome. Sunni Blū, everyone. GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY WAY. Uhh, okay. I've never even beeen to Catalina; But I don't belong in California— I can't afford the money to go on here— So I love ya, Cali, but this is so long, yeah I've never even been to Catalina; I heard that every day there's perfect weather; Maybe one day you could love me better But I'm living in the streets like I'm a veteran You don't care I put you in the overhead compartment, Before, I had you in my pocket; But had to get you off me (I had to get you off, man) Somebody started coughing, It pissed me off, so I put my heart in the overhead compartment (The overhead compartment) I still don't have my own apartment, You should finish what you started, And block me, Like I wanted you to Not follow me, Piñata man, He's not just a piñata, man Nobody even wants him, So I'm stuck here, Fuck it I put my heart in my pocket, Then somebody started coughing, So, I guess I didn't want it on me, any longer, I'm sorry, I put it in the overhead compartment Is that all you are, then— The villain made from stardust? I told you where my heart is; The overhead compartment —I hate you Not good enough to date you, Or mate with you, Make the A list; Okay then— You're too fucking famous— I'm getting on a plane to vegas Wish I never knew your fucking name, kid I put your heart in The overhead compartment Thought it would be harder Being heartless, But it's not On my honor, God, I love him— And I've been fucking up since All this is fucking nonsense I'm off then— Departed (I put it in my pocket, I put it in my pocket, I put it in my pocket) The plane had been delayed an hour and a halff, but we were already seated and unable to exit the aircraft. ‘Of course, Spirit Airlines, Ugh' It had been a smooth and yet busy morning—having woken up 40 minutes past 5, to the darkness of the morning, somehow miraculously—as I thought I would sleep well-past my Equinox time crunch and into the day before my flight, the Burbank airport a gaping 12 miles from The Freehand, and myself at the mercy of the Metro, which I supposed I might actually miss, for its consistent and hospitable service. Still, I was awake, and suprised by it, simply as I had sought it nessecary to indulge on LA Cafe, after returning from Gee'Mo's the night before—strikingly hungry, after the morning's 4-hour Equinox training session, after which I had refused to eat—somehow thinking I might be able to forgo a meal or five until I made it to a safe and more affordable country where the word “nigger” was in no one's vocabulary or form of thought, set free to pursue music, or at least work in my profession without keeping three other jobs, or sharing a room with three other people. But everything was up in the air—that is, except for me, despite the fact that I was seated quite comfortably on an aircraft, buckled in with the seatbelt at its absolute tightest setting, still leaving room between the belt and my waist where even my Fanny pack failed to fill the room leftover—and although by LA's standard I was huge, or ‘thick', by my own I had become somehow strikingly skinny, spending my valuable and newly granted free time with nothing but hours of training at Equinox, and writing away at The Festival Project™ anything and everything that came to mind, and within my experience that had been created to manifest as such. SUNNI BLŪ enters the studio with GERALD, Who has been tied up and stuffed inside of a backpack. What up. SUNNI removes GERALD from the backpack. What is that. This is Gerald. He's a little beat up right now. Uh—what happened? It—doesn't matter. I'm gonna just— DON'T put that there. Uh, why not. I don't want that thing in here. An, come on! NO. I can't just— NO. —leave him here a little while. UH-UH. HELL NAW. FUCK DAT. What! How come?! Mm-mm. Nope. Fuck that shit. Aww, come on—he's just a— Okay, he's not just a piñata. I know that! What?! Fuckin how?! I just know. Ugh. Why do you have that? I don't know. How did you even get it He— Whatever. Fuck dat. —and it's probably something I shouldn't talk about. It was, entirely, something I couldn't talk about; I had built an entire life in my head around Stupid Dillon Goddamn Fucking Francis, and although it had been a welcome distraction and calming deterrent from Skrillex and the Sonny Conundrum, (or so the band would be called, in some other faraway realm) there was nothing I could do about The Dillon Situation, or The Francis Effect—neither of which I could explain or likely would ever pay to see preform. My mind had been toyed with, my sexuality altered, and my perceptions of reality increasingly shifted, and though whether all it meant was that I was the most functionally retarded adult in America, an undiagnosed schizophrenic who behaved incalculably well around other humans despite my inner monologue (and sometimes, intentionally recorded outer monologue), I had indeed developed some strange attachment and undue feelings for Dillon Francis—which seemed unavoidable, and irreversible entirely, and though whatever had happened between Sonny and I had remained a faction of my daily being, regardless of its status—I admittedly never wanted to see either one of them again unless it was inside of a music studio, or well decorated bedroom. It's a spell. I know it's a spell. This stone should have been shattered long ago! Well, it wasn't. You should bury this. Uh, maybe that. —DON'T put it in the ocean. I wasn't going to— The last time I had taken the stone into the water, I thought I had lost it—as I had nearly lost my life in the process of fighting the pre-hurricane currants of the most recently terrifying Mexico pacific, as the other stones I had carried there were indeed dislodged in the waves as I struggled for my life (for whatever reason, my inherent survival overriding my suicidal tendencies) Hm. This is a very THE END. WHAT?! That's it, it just ends. If I throw myself off the Brooklyn Bridge, do I get a prize? No, but I do. What is it. One less nigger. I guess that's all I am in this country. WHELP, fuck it, then. It's either homelessness, miserable poverty, or suicide—all of which is the same fucking thing. “I'm crying cause nobody loves me.” Just kill yourself. Getting to it. EXIT THE MATRIX. Welcome back, bitch. Whatever I'm tired. 7/11–hell, or Heaven. It's…Heaven… Heaven. “Heaven” furious knocks on the door* *huffs whippet* Shit *more furious knocks* Uhh—who is it? ITS BRITTNEY, BITCH. *huffs whippet* Shit, captain's here. Open the door! Don't open it! WAIT!! This is Hillary Duff?! I thought it was Annalisa Van Der Pol! Well, it's not. I asked for this a long time ago God— I've been busy. Where've you been?! I'm backed up. What, Like constipated? Don't be silly; I haven't eaten in weeks. Well, sit down— No, I'm fine Unreleased One world Hit my line New chucks Dolo Hide + Seek The Eye (Acoustic/Studio Session) Like A King Ugh, fine. I guess I'm gonna have to make a list, then Well, it's “The White Bitchus” I know it's “the White Bitchus” KATY PERY Why have I never been elected captain? cause you're just not that ratchet, Katy. And Miley Is? *Miley being ratchet* Yes, she is. I'm fuckin' ratchet! That doesn't even sound right coming out of your mouth. Shut up, Katy P! York —Sussex —-Kingshurst, solihoul ——Liverpool Tottenham— Download serum Following in The Master's Footsteps, Are We? He's not my master; these are not his footsteps— Aaah hah And I'm pretty sure I have bigger feet anyway. Oh, I doubt that. Don't be facetious. I was serious. MEANWHILE, IN ASCENSIA FARRO. I am not your errand boy, your majesty— C'esme't appears behind Gìan. C'esme't! My Lord. C'esme't [FARRO falls to his knees, his hood falling over his head to obscure his face as he kneels to kiss her palm; silently, she only smiles; FARRO raises his eyes to meet GÌAN's, as he stands, momentarily holding The Queen in a warm embrace] Gìan, a word. South Gate Hamptontown Edgwarebury Cemetery, Edgware, London, England RULES OF TRAVEL 2) if you need something, just ask. Damn this is deep. Well. Dillon Francis keeps putting out straight fire, and at the very least, if I don't ever sleep—I can keep working the way I have been You'll burn out, trust me Maybe so, but I'm still here Let's just hope this shit doesn't depress me Fuck it, there's stories in here. GET UP. Mm-mm. CC—GET UP. Ahh. UP. Don't you think you're being a little rough? She's fine. Ugh, just try not to walk to the beat of his music. What is his power. Jesus, I don't know, Why, what's that do? It sets off some kind of cadence, or something. Just be careful. I'm so confused by my own self, by now By my own thoughts, right now By my own self, somehow It's just surface level Surface level attraction It's just surface level Deface level attraction Act I: Keep the ass fat Keep dancing Just keep being handsome, Dillon Francis (& Hanzel) Well, have fun I just realized, I don't know where the repeat button is. Why would you repeat this?! Well. Well, fuck it; the album's over, I guess. Heroes, Alesso is on Autoplay Nope, I'm good on that. Yep. Well. No, you can't go see Jimmy Fallon Aw, C'mon, why not?! REGISTRATION CLOSED. What the FUCK. No, You can't see SUPACREE. Aw, C'mon, Why Not! Just ask Jimmy Fallon. No. Yo, why not?! He wants to! Jimmy will fuck this up. JIMMY FALLON Aw, come on! No, Jimmy. JIMMY FALLON C'mon! I got this! [JIMMYFALLON BREAKING CHARACTER] {[JIMMY FALLON BREAKING FOURTH WALL] [JIMMY FALLON LAUGHING UNCONTROLLABLY] NO. JIMMY FALLON *mumbles disappointedly* We need a Master Level Veteran *Nobody Raises Hand* …. … WHOOPI GOLDBERG I got this. WHOOPI GOLDBERG is a MASTER LEVEL VETERAN SORCERER What the fuck is this. It's still Legends, I think. “I think” WELCOME TO THE CITY THAT NEVER SLEEPS. Oh no. What. Why doesn't it sleep? Why do you? Whoopi Goldberg. It's just “Whoopi” Whoopi Goldberg. Or just, “Whoop” Whoopi Goldberg. Christ, you're annoying. I'm not “Christ”. Have you met him? He's annoying. What is wrong with you? Only God Knows. Fuckin Wise Ass. *Wise Owl. *squints* Who? I KNEW IT WAS YOU. Who? Ah, Fuckit. Don't- Don'tyoumove! Don't turn into an owl again. Oh, What! Fuhckthat! Are you scared? –I'm not scared of anything. WHOOPI GOLDBERG in a whip transforms into a Giant Black Owl, espanding it's wings above her. SUPACREE produces a cage from thin air, instantly trapping the owl, whose eyes flicker with a glowing golden haze, as colorful auroras surround the cage, which supacree closes, setting it atop the mantle. *WHOOP* Sorry, Whoopi Goldberg. The Owl ruffles its feathers cognizantly. That's for elbowing me, mostly. The Owl Listens Intently. Are we telepathic? The Owl Agrees. Okay, we're telepathic, then. No More Talking. [The Owl Coos] Off To Hogwarts; *hoots* Okay, Now No Talking. To The Executives of Lionsgate Telivsion Hello, I'm Blū! I look forward to meeting with you and possibly collaborating with your team. I am a lifelong creative professional, artistic entrepreneur and entertainment enthusiast and connoisseur, specializing in linguistic alchemy and language exploration— including but not limited to screenwriting, poetry, lyricism, journalism, speech writing, and theatrical literature. I am aspiring novelist, boasting an unpublished plethora of autobiographical, fictional, and non-fictional works, a triple-trilogy of science fiction graphic action and adventure novels— all included into an ongoing Anthology series, which combined includes a handful of short and feature length films, music videos, and interactive, interpretive art, rolled into a high-concept synthesis of colorful and synesthetic sensory collisions, soundscapes, and in-depth narratives; an original saga of storytelling created s to immerse its audience with a mind boggling and energetic, thought-provoking, and unique multiversial perception on humankind and its immersion into the multidimensional realms of time, space, and conciousness. I am considered to be a cosmic explorer and philosopher, philanthropist and world scholar, collecting a vast portfolio of wonderous and lucid works, which capture the artistic journey in an elevated sense of imaginative and adversely raw, honest journals, dialogue, quips, and stories told broadly and boldly through moments of inventive catharsis, awakened in the midsts of growth, learning experiences, and the ongoing process of moving forward through life—overcoming challenges, adversity, and change throughout. A self-ascribed teacher and scribe, I live and work with an open mind/-believing that anything and everything is possible. In a world built of perception and thought, I strive to build a world which unleashes my creativity into the expanse of the great unknown, and beyond—forming a craft of unique skillsets, hobbies, passions, and interests—to shift and shape myself into an ever-changing and consistently evolving prototype of my intended and best self. I take pride and joy in nature, fascinated by the many ecosystems and canvases the world has to offer. I enjoy and take multifaceted interests in fitness, health and wellness, and encourage myself daily to live and maintain an active lifestyle. A purveyor of culture, I enjoy curating recipes to include into my own cookbook, excavating flavors from a plethora of culinary backgrounds. As a lifelong musician, multi-instrumentalist, recording artist singer/songwriter, music producer and engineer, I seek to bridge the often unseen and unspoken gap between the written and unwritten language of sound, physiology, and the inner and outermost world. As a DJ I enjoy involving ambient and picturesque symphonies, collecting eclectic sounds and rare records, cinema, and television. I enjoy skating, surfing, and hiking—collecting and spectating art, live theature, music performances, and world history. My broad work experience includes a ten-year spectrum of positions ranging from entry-level to management; In 2019, I began to form what would eventually become my own company and brand, The Festival Project, Inc., an entertainment collective, media brand, and music label. As founder and CEO of The Festival Project, Inc. I seek to pioneer a new frontier for Music, Fashion, Cinema, and Television by unifying and illuminating the collective consciousness through multimedia combining art, culture, and technology to form an evolutionary foundation for the future of our world. I appreciate your time and consideration, and look forward to creating a strong network of meaningful bonds and business ventures which will help to grow and expressively expand all of our shared knowledge, wisdom, and intelligence creatively and professionally throughout the duration of our time together. With Warm Regards, Thank You. (If you were wondering, they didn't hire me.) I guess I'm meant to die homeless, Jobless, penniless Just another nigger Nothing makes dollars, And no more sense I'm just another nigger Just another— Does the word make you uncomfortable? (Imagine how the skin feels) I can't afford to live// Can't afford to live anywhere There's nothing left in the world But money, and pain I'd ask Jesus to save me But it seems like Jesus hates me, At least lately Call me brother/- I'm a lady Call me mother, I'm a maybe Maybe “they” Or maybe USA; This country fucking hates me Listening to Dillon's set had been enjoyable; I was glad as a DJ, or what ever i was, that I had listened to it—it was sonically impressive enough that it kept my engaged, and easy enough to hear, even with my minimal playtime, what he was doing; it was hard to think I may have let myself go on all of whatever was the rest of my life, long or short, without listening to it—and though I wouldn't come to actually be able to call myself a true fan again by re-emerging into the older music I loved, or by listening to anything new, after the Happy Machine fiasco had left a permanent mental scar—ultimately one however that would later lead me into true veganism, I at least experienced a however brief sense of relief, as being homeless was draining any light i had left to keep, let alone to shine. It has also somehow left me with a sense of emptiness and loss—whereas I used to feel a sense of kind shop and connection of some sort, st least wi the the Dillon Francis I had built in my mind—perhaps even a connection that may have been somewhat real, at some point; perhaps he had been calling out for love, which I admittedly held for him—but had not been able to make it into the world in which he lived—a world i had began navigating toward for Sonny, anyway; knowing they were friends and colleagues, it all felt empty. I felt the mental illness of homelessness resetting my aura, waking up Green rather than in my usual array of hues, after another night of sleeping outside in a pitched tent, giving Mr. Carpenter and his company privacy, or rather holding my own sanctity in tact, as he had recently invited me indoors after asking me to sleep outside so that I could hear he and his guests time together; though I couldn't judge him to be a wholly terrible person, as he was letting me at least stay there, I could see that his psychology was twisted; he loved locking me out, belittling me, and having guests over frequently, often reminding me I was at his mercy. Still, I would unravel completely in any traditional homeless shelter—here, though being toyed with and drained of my confidence little by little, I could shower, do my laundry, and sometimes sleep resffully without snoring, the clamoring of teeth, or the dreaded mumbling and thrashing of less than clean individuals. I needed cleanliness in the least to stay minimally function, which at best, I was—but still, I at least strived to collect the energy to organize my writing and send it off to my aunt with my will in tact, the only relative i trusted, though her understanding of God was primitive and misogynistic—she was a true blessing, an angel—and at least she believed in God at all, who I felt I was growing distant from, but knew I never really could detach from; I wondered, though, constantly, why God was punishing me with a body that was so ugly and tragic that even some heavyset women, or even fat girls had nicer bodies, in the sense that their skin was at least smooth, or their backs roll-less. I figured I must have been being punished for something I hadn't remembered, perhaps rape or murder in a previous incarnation—yet—observing the actions of Mr. Carpenter, I wondered how someone like him could be so lucky as to have a plethora of women, money, and of course, a home-the only thing I wanted—and myself, a decent quality human, at least at the heart of it—was homeless, loveless, and useless. THE SUPACREE, a futuretech hyper bioartificially intelligent evolving android, finally finds Dillon Francis, conveying the entirety of the story in all multiverses and their respective timelines—then proceeds to self-destruct. The supacree, in the final or originally designated form, a pyramid-shaped robotic geometrical configuration, similar to its counterpart, the Skrillex—however hovering in more distinctcc by and direct patterns Woah, that thing is cool. You finally got to The Supacree Well, back to it Lol writing in canon Lol I know what that means now. ^.^ !!! THE SUPACREE hovers at eye level to dillon Francis, emoting all of its colors in a luminescent glow; he is astounded by its brilliance—it stops, shining an ultra bright light into his iris, conforming: Dillon Hart Francis. It projects a multidimensional hologram of Dillon Francis. I—yeah? Confirming, again: Dillon Hart Francis. The supacree concludes with a theatrical full body scan. What the fuck. Yes, “what the fuck” Oh My God: Initiating Program Sequence. Pause Lol This is arguably the worst day of Dillon's life. This is also the longest day. Meanwhile: DILLON FRANCUS has just lost a bet. THATS NOT FAIR. She's so unpredictable. God, I love her. Not as much as I do. Not as much as I'm gonna. Ew. Stop. Gross. [beat] But also incorrect— However— It's definitely me. Blū (as CC) notices her mis Pause pause What do rich people do when they're not playing or preforming. This: Oh! I meant—what do famous people do when they're not: This: Oh my g— (But in secret) Oh! Oh. Hey. Hey. E dry things a secret. Okay. Uh. Sign this. Are you out of your mind? A little but. That's not Dillon Francis. It isn't? No, thats Dillon Francus. Who the fuck is Dillon Francus? i live here. Finally Good, now it's over Praise to Satan, In God's Nation we Hell Hitler, baby rapists Playing them, but without saying it Hey, hey, hey now— I built this place from the ground up, Just to burn it down Hey hey hey hey— Next time I come out, Or around— You better be proud, You better be proud of me. Wow, Am I just supposed to die now? Lie down? Cash out? Go another round on a double down Scarf a double double down? My eyes are double double brown And hers are double double round A follower, I'm glad I found— out About The party you had without me, I was Right, There: Where you said you'd pick me up, and forgot me How Clear Is the radio signal coming in here? How long have I been here? Just been in it sweating my sins for a minute Pretend to resent this Presenting a thesis, Please just Let it all end now Let it all end here Let me out right now All I do is write now And work out And blurt out these curses to Satan Cause he runs the world now —and I'm just lost in it And there's no— music here So there's nothing for me to do, But look stupid and I'm getting used to it Don't know what a home is But I know where to go when there's no where to run but the medic A headache, or heartache I'm costing my Medicaid millions— Millions of pennies on the dollar that is; Write me off like a generic prescription of Get this bitch nigger out of here You've made it very clear Nobody's welcome here—well, Except the foreign au pairs And the folks from Paris, Canadians, when they're not scared of us Europeans, sure we need them— Mexicans, yes as long as they're sweating and Refugees, if they have money please Send the Chinese in, we need more anime characters to merry— Excuse me, Japanese; I only know the difference if she's cooking for me, Driving Mitsubishi; Eat me Stay out of my lane (It's for bicycles) But I've got pain in my feet Just from walking so often in my Cost-about-a-dollar adidas, Please just end me I don't need anything but Jesus and A pair of jeans on; Lean on me, Scream when you turn the TV on, I better run, I'm behind another blonde—hey I don't want a job, you fucking moron, I'm a goner “Call your mother” Oh yeah, dream on! Just another Stephan Goddamn astonishing, Polished the rock was; I know the rock Gods, I honored em, rose em up, wrote some songs— Then got along with my day nonchalantly Talked about it on my podcast, Pondered on some Comcast, that bombastic song makes a bomb rap, I'm gone back to Cassie into Caper, Now you're all mad; Not my dad, But I'm probably like your mom, If she was all bad. Now I'm sad; “Suicidal”, what i call that I had all the chances in the world, but now all I have are Superficial Sacramental Scabbing tracks Below my bands and No one holds my hands for long I don't belong, “I'm just a fan” Coelacanth—don't abandon me. DUFF! What's your name again? …Are you serious? No, I'm kidding. (No, I actually forgot what I named this character) I think it's “Joel” I doubt that. What was it. Idk, moving on. …did you forget? Yeah, I forgot. It's okay! Yeah, I guess. We found you!! Yeah. Sorry we destroyed the planet— —only like half. It's totally destroyed. It was like that before you guys landed. —? Just Trust me. Why does it look like somebody turned you upside down? I was “paralyzed” What's that mean? It happens here. That sounds horrible. This place sucks. It's really far. After COELCANTH is summoned by Dillon Francis—as he is still super-merged with SUPACREE//Chak Chel's nature energy; Every single living Colecanth on “Earth” is also summoned, leaping from the waters of the ocean as coelacanth' large, black and cloud like mass slowly creeps over the skyline. W0ah. ALSO: TIMMY TURNER YOU LOST LOOKIN- PINK--HAT WEARIN MOTHERFUCKA! Oh shit, run. We're fairies! We can fly! [gunshots fired] So do bullets! Running! {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U. O