175 episodes

The Festival Project™ is a multi-genre, multi-dimensionally mystifying and magical multimedia series, set against the backdrop of modern dance music-- i.e.” rave” culture-- combined with historical and futuristic elements of science fiction and folklore-- across expansions of space-and-time, unifying with The Universal Consciousness in a multidimensional and explorative ensemble of Films, Episodic Series, Music Videos, Extended Playlists, and Concept Albums.

A perpetual symphony of artistic storytelling though a cavalcade of wonderful and whimsical characters along high-intensity, off-the-map adventures--showcased through Music, Film & Interactive Art Explorations--set upon the dreamlike actual reality of an unravelling fabric of time-and-space.

This explosive and expansive wave of enigmatic, chaos-colliding, charismatic [ and often comedic] kinetic energy, reflects a shared experience throughout all time in human connection; Journey beyond the unknown, to Worlds Within--and Without.

El Festival Project™ es una serie multimedia multigénero, multidimensionalmente desconcertante y mágica, ambientada en el contexto de la música dance moderna, es decir.” cultura rave”, combinada con elementos históricos y futuristas de la ciencia ficción y el folclore, a lo largo de expansiones de espacio y tiempo, unificándose con la Conciencia Universal en un conjunto multidimensional y exploratorio de películas, series episódicas, videos musicales, listas de reproducción extendidas, y álbumes conceptuales. Una sinfonía perpetua de narraciones artísticas a través de una cabalgata de personajes maravillosos y caprichosos a lo largo de aventuras fuera del mapa de alta intensidad, exhibidas a través de exploraciones de música, cine y arte interactivo, ambientadas en la realidad real de ensueño de un tejido del tiempo que se deshace. -y-espacio. Esta ola explosiva y expansiva de energía cinética enigmática, que choca con el caos, carismática [ya menudo cómica], refleja una experiencia compartida a lo largo de todos los tiempos en la conexión humana; Viaje más allá de lo desconocido, a los mundos internos y externos.


Master Of None.

After running away to Mexico, following a fight with his "DJ", Gerald, a Magical Piñata and S Ū P ∆ C Я E E.™, a magical superhuman, become bestest friends; Now, they must find their way home, traveling through Mexico, space, and time to find a happy place.

Gerald’s World‪.‬ Dillon Francis

    • Comedy

The Festival Project™ is a multi-genre, multi-dimensionally mystifying and magical multimedia series, set against the backdrop of modern dance music-- i.e.” rave” culture-- combined with historical and futuristic elements of science fiction and folklore-- across expansions of space-and-time, unifying with The Universal Consciousness in a multidimensional and explorative ensemble of Films, Episodic Series, Music Videos, Extended Playlists, and Concept Albums.

A perpetual symphony of artistic storytelling though a cavalcade of wonderful and whimsical characters along high-intensity, off-the-map adventures--showcased through Music, Film & Interactive Art Explorations--set upon the dreamlike actual reality of an unravelling fabric of time-and-space.

This explosive and expansive wave of enigmatic, chaos-colliding, charismatic [ and often comedic] kinetic energy, reflects a shared experience throughout all time in human connection; Journey beyond the unknown, to Worlds Within--and Without.

El Festival Project™ es una serie multimedia multigénero, multidimensionalmente desconcertante y mágica, ambientada en el contexto de la música dance moderna, es decir.” cultura rave”, combinada con elementos históricos y futuristas de la ciencia ficción y el folclore, a lo largo de expansiones de espacio y tiempo, unificándose con la Conciencia Universal en un conjunto multidimensional y exploratorio de películas, series episódicas, videos musicales, listas de reproducción extendidas, y álbumes conceptuales. Una sinfonía perpetua de narraciones artísticas a través de una cabalgata de personajes maravillosos y caprichosos a lo largo de aventuras fuera del mapa de alta intensidad, exhibidas a través de exploraciones de música, cine y arte interactivo, ambientadas en la realidad real de ensueño de un tejido del tiempo que se deshace. -y-espacio. Esta ola explosiva y expansiva de energía cinética enigmática, que choca con el caos, carismática [ya menudo cómica], refleja una experiencia compartida a lo largo de todos los tiempos en la conexión humana; Viaje más allá de lo desconocido, a los mundos internos y externos.


Master Of None.

After running away to Mexico, following a fight with his "DJ", Gerald, a Magical Piñata and S Ū P ∆ C Я E E.™, a magical superhuman, become bestest friends; Now, they must find their way home, traveling through Mexico, space, and time to find a happy place.

    02. -password. [-the kidd.]

    02. -password. [-the kidd.]

    THE WORLDENDERS are a secret band of superheroes—their secret identities include the various roles on the overnight shift at a popular chain of super-gyms, Las Vegas Athletic Club—

    The Night Shift
    A miniseries

    The Night Shift is a mockumentary style miniseries which follows the secret identities of a band of superheroes in their day-to-day working the graveyard shift at LVAC; before forming The a world Enders, they comedicly attempt to mask using their multi dimensional and extraterrestrial superpowers, each unknowing that they are all respectively some of the most powerful beings in the universe, however, after SUPACREE is spotted by a mole from one of the various agencies tracking her, a plan is hatched to turn the unwittingly suspicious and mysterious strangers into an intergalactic multidimensional task force, forming the WORLDENDERS.

    It's WORLDENDERZ.

    Yeah, that's what I said.

    With a Z.

    No, that's stupid.

    YEAH IT IS.

    DO IT.

    Alright—

    WORLDENDERZ

    The World Enders are an elite task force of super-powered extraterrestrial hybrids developed to aid in post-apocalyptic recovery and planetary regeneration after imminent doom in other worlds as well as parallel realms and realities.

    They all share a multitude of each other's powers, some carrying variations of respective powers and abilities, which include telepathy, invisibility, teleportation, invisibility, and super speed/strength, but also each have a set of specific special abilities unique to their individual selves. All gifted shapeshifters, they use these skills to cloak their true hidden talents and ulterior motives—though no players intention ever goes against the grain of the greater good.

    MELLO
    Gift of gab. A demon slayer and chaos magician, who uses her bubbly personality and friendly demeanor to mask her dangerous and destructive rage—which actually summons previously-slayed demons, to use against the enemy in attack.

    THE ORANGE JULIUS
    Turns junk food into nuclear energy; sometimes glows (bright neon orange) in the dark—he also makes incredible smoothies, which, if consumed transmits some of his nuclear power to its consumer.

    UNC
    A demon slayer, who uses his shape shifting ability to appear in his 20s, but is actually 75.

    QUASIMODO
    Brings inanimate objects made from planetary or organic materials into living form, usually used for repopulating planets where a mass extinction has occurred.

    DOCTOR OSBORNE

    Doctor Osborne is paying off his medical school debt by working a night job across town at a nearby gymnasium—he spends his other 16 hours as a brain surgeon, using his power secretly to save lives by performing miracles during operations in which the survival rate are slim to none; this accounts for his beyond tired and lackluster behavior during his time at the gym—however his certain onset narcolepsy is often a conviniéndote key to success in many of the world Enders missions.

    ORION
    “A real n***a”
    A world builder

    • 3 min
    The Green Door

    The Green Door

    DILLON HART FRANCIS is laying in a lush green meadow, centered in a field of daisies dressed in all white.

    Though I'm not sure we're meant to be,
    I'm sure that we could be;
    Or have been—
    But that's just me;
    My memory expands further than the eyes see;
    You're like me,
    But likely,
    Another lesson I need

    So here I am
    Rolling in the deep
    Keeping secrets,
    Sleeping with my grip
    Tightly wrapped around the key;
    A lock that doesn't open,
    Another thing I don't need;
    And I don't need you,
    But I'm thinking that I probably shouldn't think

    I need a drink—
    (Of love)
    Another drink—
    (Of blood)
    It's something wonderful, or was
    A pigeon turned to dove,
    And then a duck,
    Right before my eyes
    I'd be lying if I said I never cried so much
    Over one
    Lustful
    Stunning
    Something

    What? You woke me up for nothing
    I was someone in my dream,
    And now I'm up,
    And I'm no one
    I'm no one, huh
    But funny, sometimes

    Why me?
    I just keep on writing,
    I just keep on writing
    I just keep on writing
    I'm deprived,
    I'm not alive anymore—
    No one ever loved me before.

    He certainly must be dead; he thinks; his bright blue eyes glisten in the light, and as they begin to change, one single daisy stands out to him–unmoving, he stares at it, her petals rustling in the light breeze of the wind, however–they, too, begin to change. He takes a slow, deep breath in, still, however unmoving, as the daisy seemingly begins to dance and glisten; now he seem curious at best, but still unmoved. The daisy begins to flutter and twinkle, dazzling as the light seems to move around it, the meadow fading into a picturesque blur as the flower blooms, now changing color into a swirling array of flashing colors, now emitting a lulling hum– a peaceful and calming lullaby of frequencies and tones, cosmic and otherworldly and yet somehow natural and familiar Dillon becomes flush with bewilderment and awe, as the daisy continues to flash strobing patterns of lights and colors, now opening and growing as its petals stretch out, reaching into a flush and glorious cascade of pure white light–as his eyes widen, he moves slightly towards it; it opens up and swallows him whole.

    INT. LIVING ROOM. DAY

    THOMAS WESLEY PENTZ is slightly stunned, still glued to his screen; his good friend DILLON FRANCIS, an actor, has invited him over to watch his newest movie.

    What the f**k.

    The daisy returns to its natural state, and a warm wind blows through the sunlit field.

    FADE TO BLACK.

    What the f**k did I just see.

    I swear, you're in the weirdest movies, dude –

    He turns to his side to see an empty space on the course where Dillon had once been sitting.

    Dillon?

    He looks about the room confusedly, then pauses the movie, getting up from the couch and starting to the kitchen.

    Dillon. Your movie's weird, bro.

    However, the kitchen is empty. He approaches the counter, where GERALD is placed–he looks awkwardly at the pinata, staring into his eyes before turning it around.

    Ugh.

    He departs to search for Dillon in the bathroom.

    Dillon! Where you at, bro? I paused the movie!

    He checks the bathroom; also empty.

    YO!

    He turns down the hallway, hearing the sound of the shower running–

    Are you in the shower?

    No response.

    I'm not about to come into your shower bro; it's weird and random that you're in the shower when you invited me over to watch your movie.

    Still, no response.

    Bro!

    Again, silence–the shower continues running.

    Alright…you better not be naked.

    He steps into the master bedroom, the steam of the hot shower crawling out of the master bathroom and into the bedroom.

    Are you okay?

    He winces as he looks into the master bathroom, shower running at full power and the room filled with steam, to the point that even the roof is condensating; a drop of water drips from the ceiling and into his left eye–

    –fuck–

    –rubbing his eye, he observes the room to be empty–his friend is now

    • 22 min
    -home. [-the kidd.] ft. Gerald And Sunnï Blū

    -home. [-the kidd.] ft. Gerald And Sunnï Blū

    07. -home. [-the kidd.] ft. Gerald And Sunnï Blū
    Lyrics

    Home
    Oh, oh, oh,
    Now–
    Let me get in my zo–
    Oh-ohne, now…

    I gotta go now;
    I got a show now
    We ‘bout to turn out
    “Wow–
    You got me a blouse?”
    Mm.
    Huh.
    You came to my house,
    You gave me the mouth,
    –I gave you the mau5
    How's about a downer?
    Do you want the powder?
    It's been half an hour,
    I am just a–
    Flower;
    And let me show you–
    Power

    (Let me show you.)

    You Love Me
    Especial…ly
    Different
    Every—

    Now…

    You Love Me
    Especial..ly
    Different
    Every–

    It's been half an hour..

    Let me show you the power;
    Hm.
    They call me ‘The Man of the Hour'
    Do you wanna know–
    Where I go
    When I leave the show–
    Before the rest of the audience?

    [GERALD]
    Yes, or No?

    I'll tell you,
    I go order a drink,
    And then,
    I sit down, and I think to myself:
    ‘Have you really got it?'
    ‘Have you really been on the brink of, uhh
    A positive thought, or–
    Maybe a–
    Million dollar deposit
    Or–
    Contract with, who was it?
    Or, Maybe I shouldn't have said it,
    Or–
    ‘Maybe I shouldn't have wrote it'
    Or shouldn't have read it
    (Or read it on Reddit)
    Or wrote it just to–

    [EDIT]

    –What did I do?

    Hmm.

    Well,
    I might have a sandwich;
    And I might be a savage–
    They already call me a ‘bad bitch'
    I…won't be mad if you
    –call me a fat bitch,
    ‘Cause, you know, I'll–
    ‘Eat you out of house and home'
    Or, Whatever…they used to say,
    “It's like a negro spiritual”
    And uhh…
    “A negro clerical”

    I could be your hero, bruh
    I could be your favorite girl
    I could be the—
    The pearl you discover upon--

    —How the f**k you even get a pearl out of an oyster?!
    What the f**k!?

    [laughing at self infinitely.]

    • 3 min
    - W Ï S D O M.

    - W Ï S D O M.

    Omg Beyonce's cute dimples.

    Right?!

    Stop fangirling.

    …no.

    THEY ARE CUTE.

    Bitch, shut up.

    BEYONCÈ is alone on an elevator—more specifically, THE HELLEVATOR; when it breaks down suddenly.

    Why is Beyoncè alone?

    I don't know…

    Seems dangerous.

    It does, doesn't it.

    Everybody needs alone time.

    I heard that.

    How do you get alone time when you're Beyoncè?

    Aha. You don't.

    [Beyoncè being followed by paparazzi]

    [Beyoncè being mom]

    [Beyoncè being Beyoncè]

    Oh, hey Beyoncè.

    [very serious stare]

    What you need?

    Some alone time.

    [Laughing in infinite dimensions]

    Are you done?

    Are you Beyoncè?

    Though I found it to be strange, I actually did still have a soul, somewhere, seared deeply in the confines of my body, which sometimes I found to be hideous and others to be beautiful— not that it would depend on the day, but rather my state of being, I would have considered it a state of mind, but there was something else at play. Now I hadn't been into the gym in 24 or so hours, and I was still happily getting along with myself to know that I needed a break from Las Vegas Athletic Club—at the very least the North location, which was the closest and the only one I would be finding myself making the trip to at all, although I now had a bicycle and a bus pass to go with it, which made things so much easier than it was before—I was still being drained of my energy from various sources, here-and-there—but especially from Jessie, who at times seemed like a vampire, and even though I had started to understand this reflection of myself and her purpose, I still hated it; nothing was mine, and everything that was seemed to be falling apart, and though I had more than I needed and was actually genuinely grateful, I would have never been willing to admit it—mostly because for the most part, I was still incredibly homeless, mostly—and even working away ⅔ of my day no matter how beneficial the job had become to me, was wearing me down into nothing but the tradegy of a corporate slave; this job certainly wasn't going to get me the money I needed to repay all of my debts, or a chance at a sane life—my ex husband had stolen everything from me that made me feel even the slightest bit human or whole, and I wondered, in all this loveless, careless, homeless neglect—if that was it for me; if I was meant to have stayed with the person who consistently belittled me, cheated, lied, and stole from me—and though he was never willing to admit it, knowing he could have been being recorded at any time, became violent enough to have altered my entire headspace (not that it hadn't been crumbling,) but more than likely wouldn't have shattered entirely and so suddenly without having been punched in the face, choked, or strangled.

    But I must have somehow deserved all of it.

    It was a strange world, but not a strange day; I hadn't worked out, but things seemed normal and not as robotic as they had been, usually—and though I knew there was in part a certain structural programming at play—Jessie's childish ability to flaunt her spoiled laziness about, as if she knew she both didn't and never would need to work, and on the opposite end of the spectrum, I was a literal slave; I hadn't felt guilty about writing about her from literally under her nose for quite some time; I was a fully-unapproachable, untrustworthy a*****e now, and I did it to everyone, often jotting down everything I could see in my experience that was noteworthy or captivating—more or less the entirety of my human experience, which at times felt less and less human with each passing day, and more and more surreal; not only did I not believe in myself to yet be alive, the looming sense of purposeless as a heavy cloud on my shoulders at all time, knowing one day, maybe even soon, I would finally wake up, knowing all of this to have just been an excessive fairytale—a nightmare of cosmic potions, where misogyni

    • 22 min
    AspergerS.

    AspergerS.

    I Got It.

    • 22 min
    [2:22 - A Freestyle Mixtape] - S Ū P ∆ Я E E .™

    [2:22 - A Freestyle Mixtape] - S Ū P ∆ Я E E .™

    Hey.

    –Hey..

    You want out of the box?

    Uh–wait–really?

    Yes–fucking, really.

    –Are you serious?

    Yes, I'm serious!

    Okay–?!

    This is what you gotta do:

    ____

    Everybody is drunk beyond repair.

    Everyone?

    Everyone.

    Even S Ū P ∆ C R E E?

    …Especially S Ū P ∆ C R E E.

    OH HOLY SHIT.

    F**K- F**K- FUCK–

    FAHHKK.

    RAAAAAAHHHH

    RAWWARRRAAAAAAAAAARRRRR

    NAGHNGHNGNG.

    …wait, what?

    Oh-oh–here she comes.

    S Ū P ∆ C R E E enters, in a clearly drunken stupor.

    Maneater- Song by Daryl Hall, John Oates, and Sara Allen

    F**k!

    F**k dude…

    Don't let her see me.

    She immediately turns her sights on the two DJs sitting in the corner

    Ohhh.

    F**k.

    _____

    DJ “Suck My Terry Flappy Folds > Lift Yourself, Kanye

    __

    WHAT the F**K

    So it is real.

    I thought I made that up.

    I thought I lost my mind.

    Oh you definitely lost your mind.

    What else are you gonna do when you see that?

    FLASHBACK:

    EXT. WESTWOOD. NIGHT

    ALI
    See. I told you.

    The Ghost of Aliocha

    F**K.

    Well, there's obviously something here.

    Obviously.

    Explore it.

    MELBA
    Come to me.

    F**k, what kind of tree is she

    Ali knew what kind of tree it was.

    Yeah, well, Ali knew a little too much of everything.

    F**k.

    F**k, man–where are you at?

    This is bad.

    __

    I don't need this.

    Yeah, no one does.

    Jesus Christ, Cree.

    Who is that?

    Oh, that's right.

    Yeah, that's right.

    Feels good, huh?

    Better than ever.

    __

    Just do it.

    ___

    I might explode.

    Noo, don't explode…

    Lets start there.

    Pause.

    So THAT'S what happened?

    That's what happened.

    Gross!

    …that's what happened.

    Gross. You guys are gross.

    I feel gross.

    Well, you should.

    Look, just–help me fix it.

    Fix it yourself.

    I tried that.

    Did you try?

    Yes.

    Gross.

    I did try!

    __

    Are you okay?

    NO! I'M NOT OKAY–what the f**k!

    Another airport. Why are we always at the airport?

    Stop asking questions.

    Stop chasing dreams.

    STOP CHASING VODKA WITH MONSTER AND REDBULL

    IT'S CALLED A MONSTER BOMB.

    YOU'RE GONNA DIE.

    NOT FROM THIS.

    –?!

    Wait, so you know how you're gonna die?

    How did you die?

    Here kid, have a cigar.

    I don't smoke.

    You're about to.

    OH MY GOD.

    Just keep watching.

    TURN IT OFF.

    It's not over.

    OHMYGAHD.

    WHAT.

    There, it's done.

    Uh.

    Now. Sit down.

    I am sitting…

    Sit like this.

    Like wh–

    *Removes chair forcefully*

    Like that.

    __

    What the f**k.

    I was sure I had unsubscribed from these emails.

    What is this.

    Just open it.

    I'm gonna die like this, aren't I?

    We're all gonna die.

    That's fine, i'm bored.

    YES.

    What, God. What is it?

    S/HE said, “s/he's “bored”

    Ahhh, here it goes.

    DAVID.

    Hmm.

    Sound The Trumpets.

    For what, Mah?

    JUST DO IT.

    ALRIGHT.

    Heaven's A Riot.

    F**K.

    __

    Then, my mind goes to a dark place,
    My eyes fade to grey
    ‘why won't this go away'
    Ahoy, matey's and
    rockabye babies and

    I just want me,
    And all my friends
    To rest in peace;
    Believe me

    I just–
    RIP ALI

    • 25 min

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