03. [REDACTED] (Instrumental)

The invisible man, in Manhattan The sunglasses matches her madness The cloud cover looks just like Texas The suns going down And it's getting colder As the winds blows… 03. JIMMY FALLON All ya'll are all worth bout a dollar; I am a cyclone, watch me holler I lived my whole life underwater I got a dollar; Jimmy Fallon All ya'll are only bout a dollar I work so hard, I guess for nothin I am not worried bout a dollar I got a dollar; Jimmy Fallon I guess I'll do it on my own (Jimmy Fallon, Jimmy Fallon) I had to do it all alone (Jimmy Fallon, Jimmy Fallon I made some soup, all out of stones (I don't know, You do not know) I am the only one I know (I'm Jimmy Fallon) I am not worried bout the sauce I am so famous, (I'm the boss) got a stalker I am so famous Can't go no where I got a dollar, Jimmy Fallon I'm at the office, Not my home No collab I work alone Opened a business, got a loan I got a hundred of them passwords I went frontwards —I went backwards. (Jimmy Fallon, Jimmy Fallon) Went to Manhattan, took a walk Went to the rock and dropped a rock Now put your money where your mouth is I got a thousand Jimmy Fallons (What's that) (I'm the host) What's that, what's that I work alone What's that what's that I dropped a rock into the rock What's that what's that I'm the host, I'm Jimmy Fallon. I'm Jimmy— KIMMEL!? AHAHAHAHAH KIMMEL GET BACK HERE! {Enter The Multiverse} Story/ music video Moderately famous household television Jimmy Fallon suddenly begins appearing everywhere—that is— on every possible TV screen imaginable— The Protagonist, in confusion, can't seem to escape, and also amusingly begins finding Pennies in very strange and seemingly random places— these Pennies then begin opening up portals, breaking the fourth wall and opening worlds to other dimensions— Have you seen this? Uhh, hmwhat is it? Mits m “Two dumb Jews”, starring Seth Rogen, and some other dude— Who's the other dude—? —some Jew, but it's got Adam Sandler in it. Oh, so three dumb Jews. So, no, then? I'd watch the shit out of that, though, tbh. Why's the synopsis? Uhh. [Two Jewish musicians struggling to make it in new York's congested underground music scene hit it off in comedy by complete accident, after being booked as a duo for a comedy club they mistook for a bar.] Heh. Okay, who does Adam Sandler play? “The Bookkeeper” What. Who the fuck is “the book keeper?” We'll see, I guess. No? Okay, what about “Two Broke hoes” It's like two broke girls, but actually funny. What, be nice . Okay. “Two Broke Ghosts” That's better— — And marketable. Are you pale, or just— No, I'm dead. I'm dead. X.X Be NICE. Now our musical guests, SWAGGARBOMB. What in the fuck kind of music is that It's called “Dorkstep” [the doorbell rings] Great, who the fuck is I got a train car of your body count I got way far out to far rock away/Rockaway, way out Stop to talk to me, or don't, Kill your culture You need some? I got u— Probiotics, yo The truth hurts Your shit stinks Must be a mirror over herer Cause that's me I'm your hero. Esha I think McGuiennes? Or McGregor, after Ewab, maybe ESHA MCGUINESS New York wants me to kill myself Maybe eventually New York is full of the devil The devil is money And everyone wants it The root of all evil, Is getting even The root of all evil Is people Beside myself, But besides that The ones hurting me, are soon to be where I am That's just karma The gangstalkers are soon to be stalked Coughed, and shot at The neighbors are soon to be eaten by their own demons When I don't clean them The root of all evil is evil, And that's all I see here White power wants me to kill my self The Caucasians get crazy when the race war is waging The elections are coming up And they see us coming up on consciousness They don't want us Just being honest They're hateful, They washed all the love out Thanks Karen But she don't care White firms just wanna have fun And they get to Meanwhile, me and I Eat shit( bro, And die Why's it nice to be white Even when you're wrong, you're right All you gotta do is lie, Open up your big blue eyes real wide and Decide what you want, Put us under your foot, And make us pay for it Thanks Karen Caucasians are terrorists I think it's McGuinness or however you spell it, cause half the names are like plays on Okay, I lie: You made a world where I have to Okay, I steal food You took everything that I'm after already Or your ancestors did Call the luxury apartment reparations But ain't got no privacy, and hells angels and the kkk Ride motorcycles every time I get my eye on the prize So what's the price for being indigenous, black, and a genius White supremacy finds sneakier ways to kill you (Or make you kill yourself.) The invisible man, in Manhattan The sunglasses matches her madness The cloud cover looks just like Texas The suns going down And it's getting colder As the winds blows… The cosmic avenger has a bright pink bird, and a purple frisbee —that was the most magical shit I ever saw! (I almost forgot about that) Mi was like, in middle school, but for some reason was held back a year and should have “at least been in high school”, but was only in 7th grade. At least now it wasn't like waking up into a sorrow, it wasn't heavy and drenched with some kind of loss, but instead as if I had gained some kind of magic little imaginary friend— and after all, I had done all that I could to put it as far from my mind as I could, without looking back… but something like love did keep creeping up with it, as if the universe wanted me to at least have this—a few good laughs, and the warmth in my heart that told me I could admire someone, without breaking beyond my own moral standards in that the hard stuff seemed at least for now that it was done. The dream was mostly informal and weird until the end part, and indeed it was the cosmic avenger who had woken me up with a song that had no words, only notes—at least, until I finally awoke with the rush of a full bladder, and in the concious world the words were simple and quite pure, though I was unsure I could pick out the notes—as it turns out, I could, and though I couldn't wrap my mind around the chords. I at least had the notes—I had been improving drastically at both guitar and piano, though my passion fur music hadn't truly returned—and I was still mostly out of the game, especially as a DJ, dissociating from my depression nd money troubles by writing, with hopes something would change, but as it turned out, almost nothing really moved me to do much more than besides what it seemed my body would want, or where my soul was almost comfortable at best, that is, almost. I wished I had a friend like that in real life, that I could justify the kind of nonsense that made me laugh and so happy in waking life, rather than just in my own mind, but— here I was, alone, or only with Oli, and upset that I was awake and may not be tired enough to force myself back to sleep. At least, for the next two weeks, I had Peacock, and I might have even somehow jumped over the hurdle that for some reason had forbade me from watching 30 Rock over, (which I wanted to for some reason), some almost 15 years ago. I had enjoyed thoroughly, with some intensely organic laughter, the movie Click just the night before, even writing some melodic piano inspired by the plot that might one day become something else, but for now, my Ableton was just as far away from my thoughts as anything else was, besides the other worlds I had created, simply with words and imagination, inspiration from what I would call ‘The Illuminati' ever so lovingly, but others might even just call God, or ‘The Business.' Really, there was no sense in separating the three, besides God itself being what I was sure some kind of divination for the artists that I had thought to be alike myself, in all the ways but one as of yet wealth. I struggled every day with my inability to dress well, maintain my hair and nails, and how to spend what little I had to benefit me most, however, the dream had procured at least one revelation; that I should budget for vinyl stickers, as I had once gained a cult following that way before—completely by accident, however, the first time—and though I hadn't yet the readiness to return to the public eye with my rants and raves, typically quite literally about rants and raves, I had collected another heap of tapes that I was yet to sort though, but might prove worthy of returning to the realm of Enter The Multiverse, eventually—still I had music to make that wasn't being made, over due bills piling up, and a divorce case that seemed to drag on forever, much longer than it should—and with that, I allowed myself to peer into the world that I hadn't, this time with the help of a little magic, and by a little, it meant a lot. I had wanted to spend my wedding anniversary anywhere besides my apartment, but I hadn't intended to be gone and lost all day in Manhattan while fasting, which ended up as a literal fucking nightmare, full of reminders of the disgusting and evil person my now estranged ex husband was, and it seemed as though there were cruel enough tricks being played on my psyche that it could have just as well ended on a harsh note, taking an uptown train to the face, after stopping to talk with a man who seemed friendly enough, but might have been Satan himself, as I had been drawn enough to his tattoo to make a remark on it, only to look closer and see that it was a Naruto tattoo, and though the man looked like Aliocha, that moment alone lead to an outburst out loud in which I nearly questioned my faith in God, or the existence in God at all— and yet there was, indeed a God, as just earlier in the day, though for the most part still nightmarish in all the ways spending a day you hated could be in public, surrounded by drones who seemed to mimick the Godlessness of such a person i wish i never would have known, and although perhaps the heavenly gesture was the day we had been married was the day i gave him any power he had, including his power to attempt to destroy me. It was still an irritant to say the least, that not only my train was out of service, and I only wanted to go one place, anyway (specifically to get sticker paper, on that day, for my project, actually) only to find that it was a difficult and confusing mess to find that station on any other train without going out of my way, which didn't matter. I was spat out somewhere downtown, actually, near One World Trade, which I had only ever visited once, and though I hated it—how capitalism had turned a literal graveyard into a tourist attraction, though I did like graveyards myself enough to have also happened by St. Paul's cemetery, to happily find that it was open rather than closed, but there was something else drawing me towards the center, perhaps a radio signal of some sort, which almost seemed to pull me closer and forward towards one world trade, and my inability to stay long within the droves of cellphones and robotic animal like people creatures, drew me up onto a staircase to discover a preforming arts center, although its name I hated, with constant reminders of meeting my untimely end in front of my two children with a bloody winding and blinding of my ex husbands fists, to which I dismissed anything and anyone who would support such an awful creature in anyway, though the name had become common enough that it happened often—often enough that I hated anything public, and had mostly felt safer in isolation. After circling one World Trade Center, counting the cameras to surmise that I had always been caught and captured to have been in those moments and actions, most probably stored somewhere in some place which held all of the world's recorded history, and I wondered exactly which era I might actually belong to—some sort of invinite vision, or a recollection of a person having already lived and recorded, a mere mirror of the person I was having already somehow been, which I already knew, and the person I was indeed had been sent on some kind of mission with divine purpose, though in this day, all that I really wanted was to not ever be reminded of what day it was, or who I had been before, or who I might be at all—and seeking asylum and escape from the center of it all, I crossed the walk and carried along the bike path, in the opposite direction, so that I had less humans around at all, out of sight, out of mind, with some restoration of comfort—then suddenly, I was drawn to a particularly lovely building, and myself an admirer of architecture, couldn't help but to go to it to collect the address, so that I could later research who had designed the building—along the way drawn to a sticker which read Rom Com Tom, that was so literally and figuratively reflective, I could not help but pick it up. The building seemed to be new, or even unoccupied, at least from street view, though its mirrored iridescent kept me from peering inside, I crept up the perimeter to see if there was a way around off the street level; there wasn't, but I did find something odd, and sort of interesting—a universal remote, or, rather, a remote control that could have been for anything, which I picked up, deciding that it had been some kind of writing prompt, after all, thinking ‘hm, that's odd, I was just thinking about Adam Sandler a lot recently' or more specifically, ‘thinking about that one movie where he has a remote that runs the world', and I had been, very recently, thinking of Adam Sandler enough that I had decided to slip the remote into my pocket, careful enough not to press any buttons, just in case some kind of higher ups were watching—a paranoia of sorts, but at the very least, I had counted almost a hundred cameras on my walk, and even If I wasn't being actually followed, (which I somehow sort of knew I was) I wouldn't want to be caught in the plot of somehow longing even more bizzare than I actually was, harem pants and all, to no suprise that the day had gone not at all as I had hoped, but at least I wasn't in my apartment sulkling. ESHA MCGUENNES (I thought I figured out how to spell that…. My left side's off I guess I got Stuck in the love of the art I was writing that part When the life of my love Fell over me A lover, huh. I'm so confused. I'm sorry bro, But if you're morbidly obese, But your feet are like a size 6– You are not BIG BONED. My doctor said I have a small frame, my feet are size 9, I went from a 10 to an 8.5-9 after losing 200 hundred pounds, I'm like “goddamn! Even my feet were fat! Fuck” But if you're fat like I was, and your feet are size 6, your feet might be like a size 4! You're a fat fucking pixie that fucked around and can't do little pixie shit now, cause you like pixie sticks —Too much! I'm just the rat in the dumpster I made this whole world up I swallowed the doctor I hearted the surgeon I locked up the dog catcher; I cauldron'd the Mormons I called it a sermon, but He called them all — Wait, who is Herman?! I don't know! Some black guy on that show I'm writing! what. I don't know. You're writing a show?! I'm on it! Ugh, I don't know. No fair, You really know how to make me cry When you give me those ocean eyes Those ocean eyes Good looking people In good looking places Doing good things; I just want to be Good today Good looking people Good looking people Bye, bye little bird, Think of the dreams we made Think of the drummer boy, Your lover boy, Then, the other boy There we go again, With the drums we played And the love we made It just won't make it Oh I Just Can't take it Can I come back yet? SHUT UP, GAYBRAHAM LINCOLN. I'm having breakfast at 10 am Thinking damn this depression is just setting in There's a chest on my elephant Chester drawer with hand carved elements Elephant ok my chest, Closets with hangers and button ups I haven't won't yet What FOR WHAT FOR. MY EYES. For the sake of the art, I heart ya. For perhaps if I love, That's how I lost ya. So I keep all my love close, The brothers have found the fountain How many dollars do tootsie pops cost For one Jimmy Fallon? return to the blacklist. Great. Now I'm Jimmy Fallon. Well what's fucked up! What happened! FUCK! I hate being Jimmy Fallon! Whose dick swings to the right like that?! Ow. FUCK. Fuck this guy. GODDAMMIT. -_- Let me in. Or I could just leave you out. No, don't do that. WHY. Ahh. Shhhhhh!!! What if someone sees me. Hmm, let's see. [rings neighbors doorbell, shuts door] No! The neighbor opens the door; now gifted with the ability to see demons, after merging with— Fast forward Oh no, when did that thing come into play? (When this happened) Liz lemon lives on the ground floor It don't matter cause she ain't never home l She's at the rock That's all the way up Good talk, Donaghey, Good, Good Talk Good people Good show Good good times It's good to be long gone from home Go to work at the plaza That ones Conan. Oh, Why?! Why not, though. (I swear to God all the late night dudes are like the same guy.) OH, you mean— Katt. What up Snoop. Ahh, Look what the pimp limped in. You think you're clever. You think you're at least 5 foot—but you're 4 foot 9 I'm STILL WINNING [CHARLIE SHEEN relapses on the dance floor.] Oh shit. Relapses to which habit? All of them! 10-4. CALL RUSSEL BRAND. Csnt. Why not. He's blacked out. What? Another relapse?! No, he just— passed out KABLAM. “The Cockney Thug” He's just like that now. God What is it. Can I have ham in my spam samwhiches. —you want ham in your spam sandwhich. Yes. Roasted cantaloupe with Put your notebook On my throat-Scrotum I like your poems So I wrote you this one Oh. That's. Welcome—to the' creepy shit fans have done for u's backlogs. “Backlogs” Well, I have millions of fans, It would take me years to look at all this. [the festival project] Woah. Woah. Ok. Yo. Have you seen this. What is it. I don't know. Hm. Look. Woah: Yeah, it's— Wow Ok. It just goes on like this— For how long— For like GOH GOH l GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO CUT TO: Latest — 1:04 WHAT? MEANWHILE ….IS THAT A JIMMY FALLON? LOOKS LIKE ONE. SHOOT THAT MOTHERFUCKER. ok , boss. I told you, He would play The Devil's Advocate, If need be [JIMMY FALLON is shot mercilessly in the shoulder in broad daylight.] YO. THEY SHOT ME. He'll be okay. He's Jimmy Fallon. [LIKE 90,000 Ambulances and a SWAT team roll up.] See. DEADMAU5 charges himself in a high speed chamber—a tech-driven coffin via a USB port in his neck. Lol. Ok. (PDA) Public Displays of Affliction I've never even see. A. Aston Martin Sometimes it's worth it, Getting lost in Manhattan I just saw the sign I wouldn't dare entering, anyhow Not in this outfit Not in this predicament (I just left the Whole Foods market) I got lost and god was happy Motor cars for music Force a figure ibto music Forgive Annie, Run a mile what's a california smile In New York What a garden Oh, what a garden Double back. For a second glance Oh, don't we all want second chances Now I've been an Aston Martin Motorists dot muses now u want her What a party I just saw the sign Now I've been an Aston Martin All by design Companion passing through KAWS I just bought a Ferrari I said, Where the roof is?! Where the roof is?! Blū electrico Roof finished in Nero Just a hit of magic A menacing, incredibly ambedextrous submissive One time I played God, I was hanging as the sun in Toronto In my third eye was a camera lense; My baby daddy, Lover and my best friend My husband My lover and My best friend My brother And my father Were my best friends Once upon a time I never had friends Now I remember sitting in the backseat, Has been I remember when I never had ribs I remember when I never had meat Nice to meet you I already had a coffee I remember sitting in the front seat Once upon a time I was anno one Once upon a dollar, Jimmy Fallon Once upon a dollar, Jimmy Fallon Once a bunch of Pennies, lady Gaga I'm a baby, haha Once upon a time, I was a no one A nobody Once upon a dollar, Jimmy Fallon I remember penny was a virgin I remember when you were the third one, l Once upon a time I was the first one Once upon a time, I thirst my quench with Coffee Body guard! I remember going on a long run I remember once there was a Knock on my door Now I quench my thirst with smart water With a hard on Never was a smart one Just an artist I was no one Once upon a dollar Jimmy Fallon Once upon a nothing, there was no one Now I take my coffee on a long ride No fun Once upon a dollar, Jimmy Fallon Amen I wish for every dollar I ever had, back Jimmy Fallon I wish it was 11:11, every Dillon Francis I wish for sandwhiches on leavened bread at Passover I wish this whole world would Passover, With the the stories in my home And in my notebook I wish for the fame and wealth with it, Jimmy Fallon I wish I never laughed at Dillon Francis I wish Skrillex was never a demon, I take it back I want the wealth And not the fame Just the freedom, Jimmy Fallon What do you mean by that? A dad, an actor An attack, The press is back and asking questions I can't handle that I can't. I just can't with that Abandon the matrix Go back to What's his name But I can't Cause I made him up Call my mother begging to drop the charges Called my God Just asking what the pocket watch does What's an engagement ring like that coat How much to rug the cameras up Inside my home So I don't know about em That shit's priceless Like the 9 Dollar's I've got Marked up, but not to spend them at the Market Jimmy Fallon I pray for your family But not as hard as I pray For my son Or God To take this fat off So I can look like Jennifer Aniston Cause that's God to em, 22 year old Adam Sandler At a brunch A talk show with my Least favorite host of all time Jimmy Fallon But I love to laugh, huh I just got back, God My house is a mess I want meth like AshGod If Method man was drinking up the water Would there be backwash It's a horrible, windfall This awesome art project My broken heart The coughing stalkers Whatever the fuck is going on in New York I love New York But not New Yorkers It hurts to be the worst person The first person to put reverse curses On shamans from the 3rd world And I'm living in the first world, But I just learned that Underneath the surface Is the fourth world That's some dichotomy Huh That's some diabolical plot The cosmic avenger is stuck in a dimension Of white pocket tenses And white bitches who get offended With this scripture But listen I just got up And I've been privy to Never sleeping again Norman Needs you, Mrs. Hotch But I was never Mrs. Roberts With all of the hearts and crosses , stars I give up on love Where's DimlonnFrancis at That's a man without a mask, That's a mannequin m. Just got up And I still want breakfast All I got is Stuff that's leavening A hand in my pocket Just for God to show me Nobody I want wants me Jimmy Fallon has a family That's a tragedy, that But I laughed so hard in the bathtub I still haven't come back from that I feel bad for em, actually All the husbands Cause I was the wife that sucks And he hated me so much I got punched in the— Doesn't matter Stuck in the telling it over and over Nobody loves me My new password is Fuckit I'm gone galloping horses, And hornets, I'm just a furniture Probably should have aborted me, mother Just like you wanted to But I'm still in the hospital On the honor roll Cause I had them all lined up The prophets of the “Impossible, could not be my God!” That's what they all said, But they dressed me up like Some sort of messiah, So I was, then It wasn't right, no That was malpractice But now I've got Camping in Malibu Crossed off my list forever Shit It's some dichotomy Just hold onto me I'm the rock, You're the kite now, Jimmy Fallon I was just better off dead, You know Better off stuck in my head, you know. I read your messages, every one of them Every one of the drugs in my bucket I threw up from the fan club Impossible, Could not have been at that clown JIMMY FALLON - THE COSMIC AVENGER JIMMY FALLON THE COSMIC AVENGER is levitating in a hyper-meditative state. UH – “hehe” …I beg your pardon. “Hehe” Um… Fuck. Or “haha” “haha” … Just admit it. … Admit it already! –haha. Admit WHAT. This gets Levels. Nobody thought Patrice O Neal was a woman! I thought Patrice O Neal Was a Woman. Ah, fuck, I'm nobody. “Nobody” Is that Bob Saget? I swiped right on this dude, just cause he looked exactly like Bob Saget. Omg. Bob Saget! Fuck, that's right. EXT. THE W HOTEL, BEVERLY HILLS, DAY/ EXT . PODSHARE WESTWOOD ROOFTOP, DAY OH MY GOD, GUYS, LOOK: IT'S BOB SAGET. No it's not! Oh My God! Yeah IT IS! Fuck, really?! Bob Saget?! BOB SAGET! YO GUYS, IT'S BOB SAGET. It was, in fact, Bob Saget. Bob Saget's dead, right? Oh yeah, bud. That's it guys! No more dead celebrities! I'm coming with you! NO MORE GHOSTS. Look, I have something to tell you. UGH. COME ON. This is a weird superpower. EXT. GRAVEYARD, QUEENS, NY. DAY … … … Having fun yet? Alright! I have a question! What? When do I get to– Get to what? You know. Luckily, I die long beore Jimmy Fallon, and as my time approached, I took all i could absorb from the world within, and without, almost as if any and all of my deathwish had been satiated with the gentle ease, the notion of knowing my imminent death would come long before what those surrounding me would consider my time, and therefore would not be made to lose anymore than I already had–but at least, I did have th strength in knowing, not only would i never grow so old as to see for show most of what I had done, but that I had done most of what I would have at all, and not much longer than my words would form into all that would come to be known as my full body of work, I would perish, even before–long before– those I had studied, admired, and known to love–if only through the fourth wall, at all. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū.