04. THE PROCTOR.

The shock put me into immediate overload, which caused me to power down my phone for the night, only reaching for it once sure It was something I had to write about, and certainly it was, as I hollowed out the nearly extinct cantaploupe in the kitchen sink, sure that I was doomed, after once again some satanic force had ended my only income, possessing my short lived employer with its usual antics—lovebombing, then hating me—and worse making me hate myself, so much so that in had retreated into none other than the likes of binge watching 30 Rock, which was at the very least almost a laugh, in the worst of moods, but at least somewhat high enough spirits, that I could cope—until, that is, I noticed, something particularly odd about Conan O'Brien during his cameo appearance—odd, meaning, surprising, at least, that is—as he seemed to stand a full head over Alec Baldwin, who I always thought seemed particularly large… and so, at best, curiosity began to kill the cat—and kill the cat it did. Google, How Tall Is Conan O'Brien? GOOGLE He's 6'4 Oh, wow, that's ridi— GOOGLE —and [Redacted] is 6'. OH. Fuck. Oops. GOOGLE CON'D I knew you were wondering. FUCK. Thanks alot Google. I had been curious, but wouldn't dare ask, and it had been by complete and total accident that I had gandered at such an atrocity as to what I had already suspected—this [Redacted] person was and had always been, by the hands of God, and exquisitely perfect man. Perfectly ideal, that is, no less of a comforting gesture, in that the sudden onset and rampant attraction which had flattened the collection of scene and stories written in, for and about [Redacted], into an atrocity of parables and incomprehensible anagrams, analogies, and allegories— no such a world I might belong to at all, for if [Redacted] was at all not the man that I had hoped, certainly also I was not the woman I had hoped in any way at all that there would be sense in any of it; The sunken hole in my stomach where my soul used to rest sunk heavily, a gesture which could only mean to move on, and write something else. Perhaps a scene which had been rolling around in my head for some weeks, so incomplete and with consistent interruption that I worked whether or not it could or should be written—but there it is again. ‘Fuck, now I know he has a huge dick' Standard rules and messaging rates may apply: Ū/SUPACREE You're a miserable son of a bitch, do you know that? JIMMY FALLON/THE COSMIC AVENGER I know that. The aliases have been captured, and are handcuffed with their arms above their heads, back to back, as to keep them from using their powers to break free. You're making me nervous. It's not like I'm going to do anything. Here, fishy. Ooh. Don't bite this. ⚠️ … You're a shark, I'm Chum in the water No fat bitches I must have scared you off For certain A Jack o lantern A Jack of all trades A mad hatter An alchemist Some Scientific recollections On The theory of genetic attraction It must be time to find a man The chaos, destruction, and sadness had yet to turn to music yet but I was due at any moment to vanish without a trace into some realm where even the satanic and horrible masses that I had been tied down to could not find me, beyond that of the trolls in the parking lot adjacent to my window and the world below, I was sure that the motorcycles would bellow as I wallowed in my underwhelming polished apartment, which at least now felt somehow more like home after having to go out of it, and with all on pause as I waited to replace the cards from my wallet, seemingly long lost as I was from any hope that I might see my son again. The sadness refused to turn to music at all and instead welled up into tears in my eyes—it had been so long since I had lost something of importance that I knew something was of and wrong—making the judgement that my ex husband had tried to curse me with luck that was damaged, anytime I did well, met someone, or started to become happy without him— but, even if I was broke, I was happy without him, the only traces of him the broken and ugly battered people, racing around on motorcycles to over compensate, and of course, the women I wish I was, but could never be—his demons, also—the kind of woman he always wanted, but could never have—and of course— if there was ever a chance in hell at a perfect man, I would have to somehow become that. I liked the Jimmy Fallon with the mullet the most. Same. He was the best, Why are the rest of them like bald? Idk. Ishii is bald. That's true, but, I think it was something like Kind of in the same way Skrillex can shapeshift into anything but a regular traffic cone, Jimmy Fallon/The cosmic avenger can't clone himself—which is why he usually has like—- No hair?! No, it's like a weird, buzz cut or whatever Yeah. So. Wait. If that's not Jimmy Fallon Is it? I don't know, fuck it. 311-18434268 OOOH—Fallon, you fucked up! I didn't? I what?! I what?! You—you know what you did. I didn't do anything! It wasn't me! IT WAS YOU. I KNOW YOU. You—don't know anything. You idiot, I know EVERYTHINT. The jig is up! Listen, I can explain! No—no explaining, Jimmy Fallon! YOU are NOT FUNNY. I am—a comic. YOU ARE NOT FUNNY. I LAUGHED HARDER AT A SALAMANDAR THAN YOU. [Salamander] That's actually a You know what? That tiny fat Jimmy Fallon almost did it Yeah, almost Almost a laugh, eh? Heeeh. I mean, when it's bad, it's bad and— Okay, I'm Assault with a deadly weapon Stalking Psychological terrorism And My ex had a baby and nobody even told me about it I thought that's what you wanted! I wanted that exactly, but I wanted to at least be TOLD about it This should do the trick Do the trick UGH. THE SNEEPLEZ ARE COMING. THE SNEEPLEZ ARE COMING OK, what the FUCK are SNEEPLEZ?! I don't know but RUN I just found out what a shmeckle was, and now i'm wondering exactly. How many of them is worth what. don't look at me. Okay, that kid is terrifying Who, what—the kidd Wait, go back, why is Fallon infinite all of a sudden. Well, he was, and then… DAMMIT. What. This is your luck. Not mine. I didn't PULL THE PLUG ON I prepared tofu over the sautéed spinach and Brussels sprout kale medley I had made just the night before; I hadn't yet been to the gym, however, I would not go, until my Amazon package, containing the nutritional supplements and workout equipment I had ordered —falling just under a dollar short from being able to afford a new lifting pad—not evening having put together that the awful pain in my neck and shoulders might have come from my thinking that squat lifting two 45s with no protection, as I had seen some others do would do no harm—and although it had been days since I had had a ‘rest' day, it wasn't enough. According to Kylie Jenner, models often worked out 4-8 hours a day, like other athletes, and required to be 90 to 110 lbs—though I was far above age to even imagine a career as a model—I still at least wanted to become as small as possible. First Saint James, And now St Patrick's It's a shame, To play to the candid camera I was framed, like Roger rabbit I was blamed by bad, bad habits It's a sister act, I tip my hat to the fans And have none My numbers dropped As I scrambled at best to blame For half of what I had yet An internet presence Past or present tense The algorithm corrects My Arcadian rhythm hasn't yet I forget as I listen To what always plays in the back of my head, anyway A repetitive silence He's got a good taste in girls, Fascination with words, and immortal preference for dismemberment Embellishments … Interest in cryptocurrency Where were you when I was a punk? Either cuddled up to my mother; Or curled up in a ball, Trying to learn how to walk, Just to run from her— Or under something Forgotten, Had I not the lungs to call for someone to watch me Or even a party, A theology of sorts, As I lost all the world's appeal By the age of four, When school started, Probably Maybe, even The start of a fart, Or the swirl of a thought, Sail away, I'm an unwelcome failure I left [Redacted] alone, On moral obligations, by admissions A standard set for respect, besides my own transgressions Expressions of love of man and animal, Influx of output and perfectly capable of nonchalance, but not Were the works and words of artform, Demolished by cause of a hazard, Wreaking havoc on lost God's Prepare for the apocaplse, Either by train, a fall, or by gun Under all of the money In The Galley The housekeeper dremt of playing piano But could not overcome the rotten body The tree stump of a mother Left to become nothing of Pocahontas Or Pocatello Either one, assumed of such A potato The moral of the story, A new understudy And Marlon Brando Curiosity killed Johnny Depp And what have you got to know Other than to Zoom Or assume that the hat is atop Something or someone you want But these star studded ones Covered in lovers from dawn until dusk Nothing wanted at all, besides love Which could not be done by a man To such a body Summer Allfruit Jam (Trfruit) Come on, Jack, we don't have time for this! I can't! I don't have any blocking for this scene! UGH. Fine, whatever— [Jack Black Follows] WHO! WHO DOES HE FOLLOW? I don't know. Hold on. Dammit. You can tell by this dude's music he just knows how to fuck. Fuck it. I'm in a weird mood anyway, should I I watch mau5's super cringey CNN interview? Probably. It's either that, or Fallon. I'm not watching Fallon, Like fucking ever. Alright, cringey CNN it is. I'm totally okay with feeding this obsession. Tom Hanson What does Because it feeds me back. What if the left and the right got along? What if I showed up at my show, In nothing but a thong? What if I went bright I once thought my aspirations Were delusions of grandeur— Once thought psychic visions as vivid hallucinations Once thought auditory transformations as mutations, Instead of and rather than Musical endeavors Once thought my proclivities As sexual deviance —the defiance of order, as defined by The Order. Worth an incognito Who I've got to know, even The televangelist's anthem has it— What, like a nurse and a psychologist daughter Thought this guy was hot Theory of Genetic Attraction By Doctor CS Monroe Quick, where did I study for my doctorate At Harvard Law I got a doctorate at Harvard Law School?! Doctorate of Law This exists, somehow, I believe Synethetics and Multidimentional Reality: The Algoithm Simulation Theory, Evolved Why! Please don't let my dreams come true. Really, even the dreams about Deadmau5 Well, except those— Except that last one. What was the last one? He was scary. Irish, German, and norweigien, really? Really. Are you sure—not even like hint of Fuck it, it's not your face You're so old It's your soul. Which, notably, might be even older, except. GET OVER HERE, you DUMB MOTHERFUCKER. MOOOOOOORRRRTTTRYYYYYYYYYYY. There he is! Like, Pacific Islander? Nope. Mm. Really. Not indigenous, at all? Not that I know of. BEFORE: COLONIZERS: die. INDIGINOUS: Ok. COLONIZERS: Except you. [insert beautiful Native American woman here]. CONT …you can stay. ok. *dies in childbirth* History successfully erased. WAIT. …Hello. Oh FUCK, What did you do?! I hit “erase” Do me next! {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū.