{The Legend Continues}

deadmau5

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HUMOUR

{The Legend Continues}

{Enter The Multiverse}

-4 J

07. eye(s).

'I_NY' (The Studio Album) Track 07- eye(s). Uptown A, ft. c o l o r s prod. By Blū Tha Gürū “Tears of a Clown” eye(s) official music video I_NY. (The Studio Album) By Uptown A A Short Film Concept Written and Directed by C'cxell Soleïl [Prod. By Blū Tha Gürū] CONEY ISLAND, circa 1903 A carnival entertainer is swept through time and into an unknown world—as the clown/mime struggles to find something familiar in the new world, the clown soon realizes they may be trapped forever and unable to return to the past. FORWARD TO; CONEY ISLAND— PRESENT DAY Afraid and bewildered, the clown makes his way through the city in an inescapable escapade. SHOOTING DATE: TBD LOCATION: CONEY ISLAND, NY- LUNA PARK AND SURROUNDING AREAS Video will be shot on iPhone to give authenticity to the handheld POV-style of the overall project (I_NY: A Short Folm Concept) Character Analysis: The clown seems out of place to begin with, even in 1903; we do not know where the clown belongs—or even with clarity if the character is even meant to be a clown or a mime; the ill-fitting and off-kilter period dress raises questions to whether this clown has time traveled before—and yet—the general bewilderment and chaotic confusion of the clown is telling to that of the treasurer that he has been uprooted out of place, and transported into an unfamiliar world, unable to communicate with people in the modern era, and deeply upset by his own lack of understanding; the clown may even be mute, unable to speak—limiting his ability further— though appearing to be in some ways, anyhow, a magical l creature, the clown eventually succumbs to the fact that he may become a permanent artifact of the new age—unwilling and unable to continue to search for another portal back from whence he came, he becomes complacent and settles in the new world, nearly seeming to be, in the end Not so entirely out of place after all—another lost soul amongst the masses of modern day New York City; the clown makes himself at home. Fuck man, I need to write a 1990's happy ending movie Well, first of all, it's all in the music. The maid is working overtime, A bloodymary; doctor's order Hollywood's oldest secrets, kept safe Hollywood's oldest martyr; Don't bother. Father comes home early; Don't bother calling, Sorry Father knows best; You know what– Father knows best, You know Hollywood's oldest soul (you sold it) Hollywood's oldest post-mortem award and Hollywood's oldest post-modern art installation. You're on air. Statues and old movies, Like words Colors that move like my Someone other; Simply a color, or bouquet of Card tricks. Beg your pardon. Shut up. Excuse me?! Do you do card tricks?! …what are you asking? Did I stutter? Blue, and pink balloons Cerulean and a meridian of fuchsia Just the undertones of code, If what you wanted was to Discover your own world, Well, welcome, Welcome, Welcome home. Milky rain and thunderstorms, Dramatic music Cue the montage All my heart is hurting Just to not belong on television Tell me, what's it like in a body Or to be wanted I would not know that Tell what is was to be young And beautiful; I will never know now I would never know that. Little white witches and Occultic gestures, pegan rituals and All the knowing even if he did want you The competition is fierce And by that I refer to Black magic; non hermetic, of course But still powerful and often as deadly Despite the consequences Rockstars and show hosts, Musicians and of course –whoever else might rescue you Top of the line, Back of the queue Top of the pile Back of the Harvard I'm police brutality I'm police brutality Police brutality Police brutality Police britality Police brutality Police brutality Police brutality Police brutality Police brutality You wish your heart was A remote control, God A harvard asshole A pinecone, aarvvark Creamy white and plum sugar All your futures, wives and mistresses Lovers and masters, and mistresses, lovers creamy afterwards, Envy, aardvark Envy Jaguar, Envy, hearthrob I only saw your show once, And never breathed outward after Jealousy, awkward Potruding, After, Again, You aardvark Ahgain, You aardvark I'll kill myself on the mark Organized, the blocking I almost admire Beautiful creatures And beautiful creatures And how it burns when it seeps in that i'll never be one It's good to meat you, then leave in a half hour I missed my hard mark I went to birthmark I missed my entrance I miss you, aardvark I miss you aardvark Beat the blonde Freebase the boundless Infinite boundary infinite boundless Classic hollywood breakfast Hard bourbon, Los Angeles Laced tumbler, Long monologue, A second thought And now, Polygamy. Ah, that painting–I love that painting. It hags in my favorite coffee shop in LA; What's that place called, anyway? Don't call it. Why not. Don't call it. Keep your favorite places sacred. Ah, come on, i flunked fame school. Everyone flunks fame school. What? It's the only way. That doesn't make any sense. I promise not to think of you so adoringly or watch you at all, as long as you also promise Never to show up on any monitor Here or ever after, at random Forever after, Not happily, but at least One without the other …the whole movie was ridiculous, but it was the paint can rolling back and forth that really did it for me. “COME TO MAMA MY LITTLE DIDGITS: LET ME LAY MY 20/20'S ON YA. “ FUCK THIS MOVIE. YOU CAN TELL IT”S THE BLACK VERSION OF THE WIZARD OF OZ, CAUSE THIS SHIT IS FUCKKKED UP. ALL THE WAY FUCKED UP: AND THE ORIGINAL IS FUCKED UP. I'm like, “WHERE”S MICHAEL JACKSON? “I'M READY TO GETTING THE FUCK OUT OF HERE.'“FUCK THIS.” ohh , she's from new york No wonder her concussion dream is f****d up. This is aaaallll f****d up. Not everything needs to be black. They should have kept this white. Give me judy garland And them racist ass midgets Aaaannnyyyy day Over this shit. No. no ‘the wiz' “Where's michael jackson?” I don't like this. “Where he at?” “I gotta pay my respects, and I gotta go.” I gotta GO. BYE. i had to keep watching it. You know why? Cause it kept getting WORSE. I kept watching it, I'm like “How much worse could it be?” WORSE. They added a snorting lion, A womanizer tin man, and a homeless. YES. You got that right. They added an actual homeless To the black ass ghetto ass New york ass version of The wizard of Oz And actually thought Michael Jackson dressed as a scarecrow Was gonna soften this out. It DIDN'T. It just got worse; So i was like “Fuck this. I hate this.” But i just kept watching it, Because i'm like: It can't be WORSE, can it? It CAN They added a homeless But that's not the scary part about this guy So they're in the New York Subway, And they add a homeless, I'm like “that's …accurate” So this homeless like follows them underground and like, traps them And that's scary right? No. This is the scary part: He's not just a regular fuckin underground subway dude He's a fuckin vetriloquist puppeteer homeless. WHAT. You heard that right. THE WORST. So this guy like traps them all underground in the subway station, And they try to escape, And they run up the stairs, And they escape, to like The subway station And I'm like “ what station is this?” “Seems like uptown.” “It's got the gate, that closes– Yeah, that's uptown. That's uptown. But then I was instantly reminded that i was watching a movie, Because they escaped upstairs, And the trash can started moving, The trash cans came alive, and started chasing them– And I'm thinking, “That's how you know this is a movie: that's two trashcans In an uptown subway station. That's unheard of. Not one trash can: But two?! Nah, This a movie. Not to mention the fact that they're alive and chasing these motherfuckers around I'm like “No. that's inaccurate” There are no trashcans in uptown. None at all. Then I'm thinking, Well, this movie is kind of dated: Maybe that's what happened to them! There used to be trash cans, But one too many half-eaten McDonalds cheeseburgers– They went nuclear. They just got up– walked away. Started chasing people. Too much coca cola. Them suckers grew eyes and legs and was like “Ah hell naw” “WE IN UPTOWN?” “we in uptown new york city?!” “AH HELL NAH” We in uptown! Lets get the fuck outta here! They wasn't even chasing them people in the movie They're just like “WHERE'S THE EXIT” “FUCK THIS PLACE” “THIS BETTER NOT BE DA BRONX.” “FUck outta here.” FUck this movie. And the whole time, Dorothy just look terrified. Terrified with a bad afro. Just look terrified; NO range of emotion whatsoever–just 0.0 But with the worst afro i've ever regretted. No. This movie is all wrong. Ain't no lollipop guild in this motherfucker! You know Richard Pryor was high as hell when he thought this one up. I'm assuming it was his idea. Who else would proclaim themselves, As the Wizard of Black Oz?! Of course. The african sweatsshop choreography was phenomenal, however. Yes, i just said that. This joke was pretty much pre-determined; I didn't even have to write it. I was just dictating. Yo. “What the FUCK.' Actually, that last part is inaccurate. I had to look it up I had to fact check myself. I did some digging; And come to find out– a white man wrote it. What in the actual fuck. I'm almost like “No wonder though.” That was fucked up. Come to find out, Dude who wrote is name is “Joel” White dude from new york. He went to Parsons! He went to Parson's school of Design And then wrote “the wiz” Goddamn! What goes on at Parso

5 min
-4 J

10. PWR. (The Great Adventures of Uptown A)

'I_NY.' The Studio Album. track 10. - PWR. (The Great Adventures of Uptown A)Uptown A,-Ū. Prod. by Blū Tha Gürū I also do comedy, and write books. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © You'd be lost with your your girl, I'd be lost without her too. for everything you've done to me, I give the world, the color blu(e).

8 min
-4 J

signed, sealed, delivered.

lol where is this being held? In an auditorium? An auditorium. For acoustics. And also because SO MANH PEOPLE SHOWED UP. Well, let's get this thing going. Are you sure about this ahahahahahahYAYAYSYhhahahahahaha NEXT. No. Certainly not! Great, let's get going. [SETH MCFARLENE enters timidly.] Seth McFarlene— what are you doing here? I—don't know. Well. Have a seat. Are you sure? I'm positive. [he procrastinates] Is this a joke? What do you mean? Trap door, or something? Oh, Seth, how I've missed your outright paranoid tendencies. So you're saying—? Please, sit. [he pulls the chair back from the table, relaxing momentarily before he sits; at the very moment he is comfortable, a trap door opens from below and instantaneously swallows him.] That's nuts. So creepy. Ah, trap door. Classic. {Enter The Multiverse} “Weirder and Deeper” The Rabbit hole can only go up from here. What does that mean? This is not making any sense. It's nonsense. Well, maybe all it is, maybe it's just that— It's just What? Maybe you're too old. *gasps* Have you never thought of that. Not even once. Take a look in the mirror my friend. Egad! Time has not served you well. My GOD! But it has—served you. Say again? Time to pay up. What? I did you a favor; many favors, actually. And now, it's time L E G E N D S —for my arrival. Jesus fucking Christ. JESUS F.N. CHRIST (Sleeping) Huh, what? Who said that?! Nobofdy. The BEYONCE that works retail is no spring chick. —- Excuse me {Enter The Multiverse} ROBOT VACUUM! —vacuum cleaner by day, SUPERHERO BY NIGHT. That is stupid. No it's not. It is, though. Look, I went to Harvard, okay— My expertise is not “sketch writing” What is it! I edited the Harvard Lampoon. So…assholery! Shutup. It's getting warm in here. I'm gonna go get a Twinkie. [he exits the writer's room and approaches the coffee table; pouring himself a cup of coffee, his hand reaches into an empty box.] …hm. [he moves his hand from one side of the empty box, to the other; it is for sure empty.] Are you serious? [a coworker enters the space.] Oh hey, what's wrong? We're out of twinkies. —what. WE'RE OUT OF TWINKIES. [absolute horrific pandemonium] Then why not al caps? Because. If there's anything more horrifying and urgent than al caps, it's all lowercase letters. Noted. WHO TOOK ALL THE TWINKIES! ALL THE GODDAMN TWINKIES. AAAAAAAAAAGGHGHHHHHH. [the alarm has been sounded] Oh no. Idiots. “Requiem for Jimmy Fallon's Nightmares” Push you out the window, Push you out the window, Push you out the window Push you out the window This is not the window This is not the window This is not the window This is not the window It's an innuendo It's an innuendo. It's an innuendo It's an innuendo I'll push you out the window (Push you out the window) Go get some regular girls Go do some regular things Go back regular works. You not scaring nobody. I Rick with ghosts and the comics Souped up cars, delivering groceries You sell drugs, but live in the projects; Nobody got time for your nonsense New bike, but ain't paid it off yet My psychic days your karma up next I promise, the worse that my heart stops— The harder and faster your corpse rots; You'll probably sleep in a coffin— (Tonight) Or no more bike, back to walkin. You wanna keep playing these games, sis? Keep at it, I'll be rich and famous. Go double click on some fake pics Go chase fake girls with the fake lips Go save lunch money to buy fake tits Keep giving em excuses to be racist They hate us All cause you done fuck up niggas Keep folks up, that's why they don't trust n****s Your whole motorcycle a slave boat nigga Your whole Benz, that why they just roast niggas How much you owe for the car note? How much you owe for the car note? Ho How much you owe for the car note? How much is four cups of Starbucks? How much you owe for the car note? Roll up, you'll probably get your throat punched. Loud bikes cause ya'll ain't the smart folks— Ya'll suck, Ya'll autos is slave boats. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © turn the light off then I'll sue the whole word on my irregular heartbeat, and my mama. I don't give a fuuuuuuuuck.

6 min
-4 J

Harassment/Terrorstalking.

Push you out the window, Push you out the window, Push you out the window Push you out the window This is not the window This is not the window This is not the window This is not the window It's an innuendo It's an innuendo. It's an innuendo It's an innuendo I'll push you out the window (Push you out the window) Go get some regular girls Go do some regular things Go back regular works. You not scaring nobody. I Rick with ghosts and the comics Souped up cars, delivering groceries You sell drugs, but live in the projects; Nobody got time for your nonsense New bike, but ain't paid it off yet My psychic days your karma up next I promise, the worse that my heart stops— The harder and faster your corpse rots; You'll probably sleep in a coffin— (Tonight) Or no more bike, back to walkin. You wanna keep playing these games, sis? Keep at it, I'll be rich and famous. Go double click on some fake pics Go chase fake girls with the fake lips Go save lunch money to buy fake tits Keep giving em excuses to be racist They hate us All cause you done fuck up niggas Keep folks up, that's why they don't trust n****s Your whole motorcycle a slave boat nigga Your whole Benz, that why they just roast niggas How much you owe for the car note? How much you owe for the car note? Ho How much you owe for the car note? How much is four cups of Starbucks? How much you owe for the car note? Roll up, you'll probably get your throat punched. Loud bikes cause ya'll ain't the smart folks— Ya'll suck, Ya'll autos is slave boats. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © turn the light off then I'll sue the whole word on my irregular heartbeat, and my mama. I don't give a fuuuuuuuuck. i record everything mo'fuckah. let's do this. you'd hurt me you'd hurt your own mother, your own sister.

9 min
-4 J

LEGENDS S10E00 - Preview. [SPOILER]

What's wrong with Conan O'Brian? He's just—taller than he should be. —that's it? Yes. Oh. Johnny Carson in the bathtub, In the long run, I'll need a back rub Long talks with God, I'm in a bad club Can't waste the hate these days On bike racers and man scrubs Yikes Cancel my subscriptions, The price hikes more than miles a minute My whole matrix a Peloton; You woke Satan, The lights is off Again, With the people And the people And the things And the people And the people And the people And the things And the things And the people And the people And the things And the things And the people And the people And the people Let it limit Let it live Let it limit The way you give Protect your energy And then, this Protect your energy And then [Project] your energy Nothing sleeps here, As you've noticed Though you've been unwell (You've been under) Something awaits for you here, The land of the beautiful people Hidden under skrims of Veils and wishes Light and sound and obstacles only to blind, And to bat, and to waken, The Theory l —The Theory V. So far we're Just designated drivers, Long trusted confidants It hasn't got that serious yet; Put the turn signal on So far, It's just designated drivers, Friends and countrymen Wizards and witches Misters and masters, and mistresses It's never as serious as intentioned And so far, We're just captivated wages, Under the influence of ourself Designated drivers, and fortune tellers (Masters and mistetresses) So far, We're just designated drivers, Can't help but control ourselves, When impulses in everyone besides us Just running wild So far So far So far They're bleeding us dry— She wants to be friend We'd better control ourselves Nothing further, No longer just wasted If Designated drivers, Were later medicated— We'd better control ourselves; Sirens behind us, now Capsules taking hold, after (Designated drivers) (So far) Slow release devastation Mastered levitation But we can't control ourselves Look at us now (Goal markers) We're just designated drivers; Almost never getting wasted Nothing to report, (I control myself) So far No false claims, besides The never ending ties (The live wire) So far, We're just designated drivers Functional, but play fair Never taking hold ourselves, A kiss goodnight, But never getting serious, As sanctioned— But so far… —Familiars {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

23 min
-4 J

212.

After reporting the noisy modified vehicles and motorcycles the targeted attack changed to honking; there is a group responsible for the consistent harassment and purposeful intent to harm by causing residents distress and anxiety with the use of motor vehicles through modified engines, flashing lights, honking horns and other methods of psychological attack. These sounds are instigated repeatedly and are due in no part to “regular traffic”, but rather by individuals in parked cars (parked in specific areas and at specific times, at all times on a 24 hours basis and in no relation to normal traffic and typically in off hours, during quiet hours and after business hours) repetitively revving their engines, honking their horns, and at time, using their tires to burn out or otherwise cause disruption by the use of motor vehicles—imdividuals in strategically placed parked cars will honk repeatedly, sound the alarms, or use their engines to make intimidating noises, pops, and other unacceptable sounds during quiet hours and in residential areas. This continued harassment appears to be the organized attempt at a terror or hate group within the neighborhood; the environmental protection agency has failed to enforce the noise code and though the noise typically occurs during off-hours or quiet hours, and NYPD has failed to enforce the noise code. 311-20936238 311-20936250 311-20943735 A twitch in your left hand could be caused by a number of factors, most commonly stress, fatigue, caffeine intake, dehydration, or minor muscle strain, and is usually not a cause for major concern; however, if the twitching is persistent, accompanied by other symptoms like weakness, numbness, or significant pain, it's important to consult a doctor as it could indicate a more serious underlying condition like carpal tunnel syndrome, neurological disorders like dystonia, or even early signs of a condition like ALS (Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis). Potential causes of a hand twitch: Lifestyle factors: Stress and anxiety: High levels of stress can trigger muscle tension and twitching. Lack of sleep: Fatigue can lead to muscle twitching. Excessive caffeine: Caffeine acts as a stimulant and can cause muscle contractions. Dehydration: Not drinking enough water can disrupt muscle function and cause twitching. Overexertion: Strenuous exercise or repetitive hand movements can lead to muscle strain and twitching. Nutritional deficiencies: Low potassium or magnesium: Deficiencies in these minerals can contribute to muscle spasms. Vitamin B complex deficiency: Vitamin B is crucial for nerve function and muscle health. Yes, you may be able to sue a city for not enforcing noise codes if the city's failure to act caused you harm or damages. However, the process can be complex and challenging. To win a lawsuit, you'll need to prove: The city had a duty to enforce the code The city failed to enforce the code The city's failure directly caused your harm or damages Cities are immune from certain types of lawsuits under the doctrine of sovereign immunity, which means you can't sue a city without its consent. However, there are exceptions to this rule. If you're dealing with a noisy neighbor, you can also try these steps: Make a friendly request, Write a letter, Contact your landlord, File a noise complaint, and Contact the police as a last resort

3 min
-4 J

[Pit of Snakes.]

The book was fictional, but a perfect reflection of the treatment I had received since arriving to New York City; nothing was free, and it was almost as if the incessant hazing, entrapment, harassment, and terrorism had been at the cost of my own clarity— no longer could I trust another human being, ever. if these fictional ballerinas could do such horrible things to one another, what could their equally as devious adult counterparts do in order to disarm a potential threat—and if this was the simple and evil way women dealt with one another on a competitive level, how much potentially deadlier could make adults be in targeting potential peers, especially of opposite genders, and particularly—of thr opposite race. I wished race had no impact on anything, but in the United States, as the underlying cause of all conflict, it actually seemed to be at the root of everything. Next was money, and it would be ignorant to say that the two hadn't become so drastically intermingled with each other, the least of it belonging to colored people, and the most of it belonging to the dominant source of global power, the whites. Still, the way that people seemed to move was almost a color coded system in itself, and it seemed as though the pawns most often moved around the map in certain ways were almost always one thing or another, and now, understanding the way that politics were more likely than not conducted in this same way— I had collected, by studying the personal-professional lives of fictional adolecent ballerinas, I kept my head down, and my nose out of it—with no intention at anything besides getting out of New York alive, and put together—knowing that the possibility of my making any real money at all might have been some sort of threat itself, to any opposing party. The whites, as it seemed, would only ever be comfortable in a world where they had more, and better—at all times, and always. Nothing any colored person could ever come close to what they had maintained as their own world; everything was a system kept intricately in place—movement outside of this grid of power was not only forbidden, but nearly impossible. Especially on the grid and especially above ground, which almost everything was. Death of A Superstar DJ. [Hanz brings Gretl into his lair, where he co ducts his experimentation in creating “Ze Deepest Bass” Zis makes ze vierd sounds, yes. Yas, Very vweaird. [He presses a button which activates the system to begin playing the severely awkward sound of a Dillon Francis bass drop; embarrassed, he immediately switches the power completely ‘off'.] Zis is stupid. I'm sorry. Vwat vwere you sthinking? I wvasn't. An entire laboratory of sythezizers, and you've wasted it on this abominable— {Enter The Multiverse} The terror tactics began to become next level; though certain sounds were inaduible by my phone recording, they could still be heard and sensed by vibration within my body; an engine had started and had yet to stop, positioned behind me—and though I knew already that the terrorists were more than likely Americans, the tasks themselves were carried out typically by the black and brown underlings, almost with the intention to hide the fact that these commands were coming from a higher source of power; the illusion however could not be made that these kinds of terror campaigns were of course only carried out by the military itself, or another organization; that the men driving the cars and sent about on motorcycles were following orders and being paid by the military themselves. It was psychological terrorism, but because of its being carried out in New York City, it was almost the easiest thing to hide, masquerading the terrorism as the normal sounds of an only partially gentrified busy intersection—but I knew better. I knew that my phone and documents had been compromised long ago, along with my emails and messages— and I knew that, depending on what I was doing, where I was placed in my apartment, or even what I was writing, the incessant engine reving, the motorcycles racing up and down the block or otherwise just in circles, the cars honking and other sounds made with the direct intention of intercepting my personal frequency—was tactical warfare. Once the recording of these events became frequent enough, the sounds had moved only just further away as to be still audible and to disturb my peace, but just out of the range that my iPhone could continue to gather evidence to take to court against the owners of the garages, the city, or even the property management, for having not maintained the peace in the area surrounding their buildings. Still, it was of no coincidence quite obviously that I had been placed here purposely, and that the carlot, the motorcycle garages, the car garages and their respective car clubs, and the auto repair shops all adjacent and within dysfunctional earshot had been created after the year in the homeless shelter where it had been gathered, my sensitivity to sound and synesthesia could be used as weapons in order to dismantle and disable me. The moral reprocussions of these ugly little men on bikes or the even uglier ones in cars were none more then the soldiers that were just as often placed on the front lines of any war— a tactical betrayal of peace and freedom, I could only gather that this operation perhaps intended to pursuade that I should abandon my creativity and instead pursue with passion the humanitarian interests I was capable of, or maybe even political, however—because these things were being carried out in such an in humanitarian way, I became less interested in anything having to do with it, and it only made them more stupid and dirty, lowly and evil like the snakes they were, now that I had rearranged my furniture to always have my backs facing them. Now, not only were they below me, but behind me; once and for all positioned in such a way of knowing that everything they did on the outside of this apartment was underhanded, cold and treacherous, and against the forces of God and of nature. My right to peace and privacy has been violated, and now, worse, my body had been attacked. They were no better, no smarter, and no more powerful than the weakest men on earth—men who could do nothing themselves, but be made to do by others, subsisting entirely by consumption— the product of the light and enchantment had had been wasted with the minimal effort of having created such as these, otherwise useless creatures. The less I chose to interact with people on this level, the less opportunity it gave them to attempt to penetrate my mind or dismantle it am any way, psychological or otherwise. I had become seemingly erratix and unpredictable, moving about at times and in directions that couldn't necessarily be pinpointed— but the more time I spent away from these hostiles, the less erratic I actually was, able to think with clarity and move with stealth, only appearing at the surface for air every once and awhile, and realizing how remarkably desperate the groups that had been stalking and harassing me for to get my attention. It must have been military, and being stalked particularly by men not just simply smoking cigarettes, but intentionally going out of their way to smoke them and blow the smoke into my face— people almost needing to catch up with me or end up in my line of sight and however, it had become easy to avoid them, finally having realized that at this point, most of the time— even I didn't know where I was going. My dismissiveness made me harder to track, and my indecision had suddenly become an asset. I was always ahead of the people who were sent after me in one way or another, and besides the plants in my own building, making themselves obvious as gangstalkers by their particular way of dress and behavior— it was impossible for anyone to understand my way of thinking anymore, because it wasn't in a straight line, nor was it on any grid of systematic standard. I was almost always offline, and off grid, which meant that the people who were online and on grid were of greater number, and more predictable — instead of being moved around, I was the one moving things. I knew that anybody with a cellphone—almost everybody— had to have been connected to something—something that I wasn't connected to, especially moving about, and so the movement and frequency of these beings differed so greatly from my own it was as if playing a two player game in which the other player is simply a computer. The algorithmic nature of things just as often caused me to think about Joel Zimmerman as it did anything in life, and it was just as likely that the more time I spent thinking of anyone or anything fondly enough, then would appear in public anyone that looked just enough like them to momentarily trick my brain out of reason, and typically even more a tiny blonde girl just beside them to remind me of the pecking order of the evil world. The lightheartedness of being ideal in any must be so attractive to the male psyche that its dominance over the structure of the human species will forever stay unmoving. —Tales of a Superstar DJ. MOOOOOOOAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH! NOW THAT I HAVE THE PELOTON BIKE AND THIS JUICER, THE ENTIRE WORLD WILL BE MINE! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!! You are psychotic. You think I'm psychotic now—just you WAIT. (I also have a pink treadmill) AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA—MOOAAAAHAHAHAHAHA!! Dang girl, chill. I WILL NOT CHILL. YOU CHILL. I'm going to be so devastatingly effing RIIIIIIPED! Srsly. Some.. uh.. Houseplants… Like, a shag rug, Some blackout curtains— Minimal effort here. Uhhhhh. What are you doing? I'm fung shueing. L E G E N D S Last night I slept totally in the nude; Of course, leave it to good old fashioned good timing-/— The return of the hellicoopyer, and whatever's at

1 h 5 min
-4 J

{ETM S10E00- Preview} [THEYAMS.]

She's REAL! I'm telling you she is. Sweetie, I know you have had a lot going on lately, but— I'm serious! She was sitting in the audience! She had the same glasses on and everything! Oh, come on. I should be meditating. The likelyhood that I might actually be belonging into a hive mind has recently kept me from furiously masturbating. Bad news for the helicopter making a habit of hovering outside my window. Here's hoping she's dressed this time! [F-f-f-f] Nope. Synopsis “The child within” A frustrated present day Drew Barrymore sees a familiar face in the audience of her hit daytime tv show—formerly thought of as her imaginary friend, from a very young age, Ms. Drew Barrymore has not seen the mysterious figure since her first major film role, after which she mysteriously disappeared— the creature, a time traveling and shapeshifting multidimentional tasked with the duty of bringing future celebrities from one realm into another—and even sometimes perhaps preventing obstacles or adversaries in their path along the way— must meet the future stars and alert them of their unique qualities, nurturing the intrinsic sense of charisma and charm that will supply value to the subject's career and lifetime achievements— In attempting to convince a room full of New York's own fabrication of Hollywood TV People that a figure drew even thought herself to have supposedly re-emerged, she is met with judgement and dismissal, even by “her people”, during which a small piece of her spirit— “The Child Within” angrily breaks away from her adult self; in a sense, they are both invisible—as no one will seriously listen to Drew's rationalizations or theories, and reccomend more intensive mental health care and treatment—and as the child within, unseen and unheard loses her patience in the inevitable invisibility, she separates herself to presume her former mission; finding that ‘very strange lady' whom with she had beforehand seemingly adventures with timelessly. So that's where I left off. Pretty much— Doesn't this lady just— Whatever, I do have more things to do than I thought. I'll have to get back to it later. I wrote this days ago; I didn't write it—but I've been thinking about it, so there it is. Maybe— Whatever. More coffee. I've been starting my days between 6 and 8 PM with very strong cups of coffee— Compliments of the Television people, of course. What about that other storyline— the one where she's like a spy or something? You mean Charlie's Angeles! No, I mean like actual CIA. What was she even doing? I don't know; looking mad serious in a blazer. Posh. So very, {Enter The Multiverse} NO, BILLIE! WHYYYYYYYY! WHYYYYYYYYYYYY. Cause it's shark week. WHAT THE FUCK DOES THIS HAVE TI DO WITH SHARKS?! I Dont know yet. I know better than to Click a photo of you, when I've been thinking of you Too much Aren't you –At least Curious (To say the least, but–( Learned enough The first time Second time Third time Fourth rung don't care Time's up Problem solved I know better (Just a touch.) I know better The world is mad I know better Fingers crossed I know better I'm all alone I know better I know better I heard my neck break at the end of the rope I heard a gunshot in the distance We all wondered which sounded better The rock i'm under (A curse, or a spell?) A blood bond ritual An occult oath, it's Too many simpletons, Singletons, scratch and sniff, motion pictures Who art thou? Who art I not? Very well. No more, if you would remain. As I must. And yet, I have come to end thy reign. Very well. Oh, again? Oh, as always. I've done nothing in my right to mark tirade. Many ears. –and many hearts. Take mine, an honor. Your head, i'd rather. Say again. I'd rather your head. Very well. Dismiss, you. They are as one. A fair right. It's not as bad as you think. It's worse than it was. Now there's stuff all over it. What is this stuff?! Don't worry about it. There are tears. No remains. No remains. None at all? I'd rather burn than buried. And your Kingdom? –I'd rather burn than buried. Or–? Or buried than burned, but gone at all. Gone at once. As with this. So it is. It's not in the blood; You won't find it. –I'll find it. Not that way. __ GODDDAMN. YOu'RE SO DUMB. You're so fucking–stupid. I'm a genius. Not for long! You're a dead man. Your highness! And who is this? His highness's executioner; perhaps also yours. On what charges?! Dismissal at once. On my time! –and tell no others of this. –and you? Steady well in my greeting. And how? A lady upon a throne, not I, but still fair castel And wages of ageless. So it doesn't matter! So it doesn't. So it can't–matter Shouldn't have to. Somebody just kill this poor fuck already. On it. Oh, I get it. It's his face. L E G E N D S - ASCENSION Listen, Potter; I don't know how you did this! I don't know how I did this! I'm not Harry Potter! My name is Daniel Radcliffe, and– This place should be spotless. It is…spotless. {Enter The Multiverse} When you think you're hearing voices, But you're actually telepathic.; I think it's getting worse now; I wish I was just manic I think I need a manager; I think I need some magic, I think I got a half an oz Just sitting my my backpack That's a lot of cocaine, man. It's not that much. It's more than regular. That's fair. Way, way more. More than usual. I am very wasted. Just let me touch your face And let the age sit in Take in the day The cage sits in a mailbox And it withers with my divedends, Still, I'm writing Heroism, hedonism Circumstance, Frantic as an orgasm, And laughs just as much hard as that I came in color These marginal differences, I've been levitating, Marrying the thought of just l Decapitating every nation. Severed heads as one, To stand the wicked bodies Oaths if over oceans stand as borders Who deserves to sail For failures craving fortunes? Withstand this, I mark true— On your duty of my decaying Stands as justice, and still this You haven't fortuned, For arrogance is the truest of humor And wit to none, wiser thinking He is or are that may Be stronger in the notion that There is no other but himself! And so I pardon! Dear, your honor Fight for festherwate for masterpieces Cherished and forbaroned in the faithless, Wise and withered none, but lying waking Barking tides, wishes foul and ordinary; There you wait for judgement, And call I, Boundless as you found her As one, And I say— There, there; There you are in marked for God, Calls none but I, others Seeking in the wate of judgement. Fair and Farrows of the ache And bound I, still now To causing none but fortune, Still truth waits in the ark you have tied us To, in hundreds number There I wait, And there I come, still Now in time, You are we And I are Together Not tied, But marked as one, As such, this now Is where embarked Dither will you. Whatever the fuck that means. Must mean something. You DJ…magic? I do whatever I want. Awh—oh, well. Why are you so nervous? Just aM. Sit down. I'm already sitting. Lower. Uh, like this? On the floor. Alright… Here's a cushion for your arse; Don't get up. Thank you. I'm going to make tea. —I take cream in mine; two sugars. I didn't ask! [in almost no time, and some heavy clamoring through the beaded entry to the doorway, a teacup appears on the table in front of him; it slowly begins to swirl, filling with tea—it fills nearly to the brim, steaming, and trembles a touch.] Um… [as he raises his finger with a timid objection, the cup of tea plumes with a cloud of cream—and while his eyes widen with amazement, drawing him closer to the cup, two cubes of sugar splash into the tea; two tiny drops of tea ricochet into his right eye, which he palms with a wince, his other eye still wide with awe; the woman re enters the parlor, carrying a traditional tea tray, a decadent silver platter adorned with an assortment of sweets, and a tea set. She places the platter at the center of the table, and the table sets itself; the table is now set for four, and the teapot pours itself at the head of the table, into the woman's teacup. That ought to do it. It worked! Of course it worked; it always works. Very nice. I see you got my message. [still distracted and in a sort of wonder by the whimsical uproar, the man's attention is aimed at the two empty places at the table. ] Are you expecting company? I'm always expecting company… My hands are tied behind my back You solid wasted time for facts; And steady drawing love for oaths To skin we carve The path of ours, Orion's Belt Something seems off about her There is something strange, no doubt. Unwilling to be by (Sacred vows) Distant In the calling for forests— So we wait Tears as raindrops, though drought has fallen Then reflected in words of others, The mind gone, All else rotten Silk ties, my ears There words, soft voices The other seeking, One running Then came and went The summer gone The spring had flowers The over dried The tongue sparked Horror, Forgotten Remembered, Then, valued and weeping for something else Stranger tide, Oceans foreign, And lands unconquered. Heavy rain, Though tears has dried Heavy hearts as service ended Nothing left my ions, clouds Mercury, women, blood drawn Sad strange, headless, gasping Horse drawn outlets, Incapable of telling fortune; Dust, Dust, Dust, Dust— The curse has broken And still there was love there, and then There

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{Enter The Multiverse}

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{The Legend Continues}