10. {The Divine Comedy}

SUNNI BLU becomes a man. I guess. Golly. You sure do seem intolerant. Are you sure you don't want a Peloton. I want to live in a white neighborhood And make enough money That my white neighbors Actually respect me For whatever it is I do. Working on a Saturday. Calm down, Jew mom. I will not clam down. In this house, we abide by holy law! Hold on. What happened. I got distracted, this girl looks just like Edie Falco. Oh, I love Edie Falco. Right? I realized how bizarre my creative process really was, in that days I would get the most work done musically, I became physically restful, and complacent, not worrying about the gym so much as the energy I would use rather towards the music I was making, or the over all lacsidasical approach I took to everything. Not being an entirely-perfect stepford- divorcee with a bleach clean everything in my median space, I realized it was almost a more natural kind of creature that created my music; one who ate and acted normally, and was overall less of an anally retentive bitch—not to say that my normal self was not an anally retire bitch, I was, but it was that my creative process seemed to require more normalcy and averageness; eating regularly, What the fuck man. Idk. I got bored The wheels start turning The pages in my mind become phenomenon, I almost bought it I almost bought the dream; Another story arc. Trust, or don't trust? I don't know— these guys are like the ultimate fluffers… MEAT CIRCUS. MEAT CIRCUS. Okay, I love them. …did she light the candle? Oh look, a candle. Hm. SHE LIT THE CANDLE. SHE LIT THE CANDLE. THEY ADDED GPS TO EDC so then. How many of us are there. Hey. Everybody sit the fuck down, right now. [drones sit down] There she goes. Dammit. Why are you really this short in person? On God, because I'm really this short, irl. Skrillex. NO. Get over here for a second. Wanna go to Disneyland? On my life, I'm like in Cancun right now, but— But what? I'll catch the next flight. “The Uptopia” I thought about finagling a way to get into EDC for like 5 seconds before I remembered what it was, And that i'm a DJ And that it looks cool and all— But sounds, generally like a total nightmare. Not because it wouldn't be fun or anything- a It just wouldn't be fun— —for me. EDC part III Haven't I been to edc more than 3 times already. (Try like 30 times.) —that's enough times. THATS NOT ENOUGH TIMES GIMMIE MY BOX! DID YOU GET THE MAGNET . I GOT THE MAGNET. GET IN THE— Goddamn, dude. That's a lot of magnets. It's really not. Man, what the fuck would even happen if I fuckin actually focused on this project I don't know. I like, haven't focused on this project and it seems like, possibly, maybe I might have brokered some kind of deal that may or may not include Coca Cola and NBC. This dude might be trying to rule the world. All the dudes might be trying to rule the world, I think. Well, what if we put them all in a group together or something —seems—doable And maybe if they're not trying to kill each other, hey the end of of— Oh, look. World peace. Nice. —it. Hm. Let's just say, Altogether I give a total of actually zero fucks— Ah hah And at the end of the day, I just want some dick. How is that going to help achieve world peace, exactly. Fuck around and find out. Ladies. Here, yo. Guy, what's this. A midlife crisis waiting to happen. Oh no. Don't worry, it's almost over. My midlife crisis? No, the part before that. Jellyfishing. I don't know, Patrick, seems like kind of a strange day to go jellyfishing. Just—relax. Jesus Christ. (Soft telephone voice) This is the messiah speaking. Uh…hi. How may I direct your call? Uh… Hello. …is your dad home? Euh…probably not, but I can get you my mom. …that might work. Okay, hold on. (Not telephone voice—actually atrocious Boston accent) MAAAAA. …Jesus Christ. What? TELEPHONE. ring ring. Bitch! Ring ring ring! —bitch! Ring ring ring. —BITCH! Yo! What!! Answer the phone. The phone is ringing! Why do you keep saying “bitch”?! Cause that's a bitch ass telephone, bitch! This is improv! I know! And the first rule of improv is to not saying no, but I refuse to answer a telephone that just says “ring, ring”; that is not a realistic telephone, and so to that, I would just say—“bitch.” Bitch. That is not how improv works. I'ma aim at your head; you technically lost the game already stopping the scene; you said “ring-ring” I said “bitch”; you lost already, I done my part. What? Just—if you're gonna be a phone, be a phone, but don't just say “ring-ring” like that Take me all out of character and shit. What character?! All you said is “bitch!” And all you said was “ring-ring”, hoe—I ain't got time for this— What?! Just be a phone! THAT WAS A PHONE. What phone says ring-ring? Phone ring tone “Ring-ring!” What's that. That's my new ringtone. You're so lame. Well at least we got past the 90's and were clearly into the early two thousands. How do you know? That guy has a ringtone. Who is that guy, anyway—? wait a second! Oh shit. That's him! Get em! Ah, are we bringing back the Italians? I don't think they ever left, they've just been quiet. I want pizza. You're in luck. Goddamn kid! Pizza?! French fries. —I want chocolate cake. AND chocolate cake! Goddamn. You'd better be crafting a goddamn symphony. It's more of like a sonata. “The King Suite” Whatever! Just remember however far you get writing this album is how much more gym time it'll take to be taken seriously promoting it. I'm already promoting it. What, how? LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA DAY. welcome back, kid. Shut up; give me a house. Give me a house song! Okay. OKAY, now downtempo. Downtempo makes me sleepy— but whatever, here. Okay, now techno. Untz-untz—here you are. All it took me was seeing Tiesto's ancient ass plastered all over the place in Brooklyn to realize I don't think it'll ever be “too late” to be a DJ and perhaps I could stand to focus on my other masteries. Whatever. I want chocolate cake . You are gonna get so fat. So? So is she when she pops out three kids— And her music sucks. Sauciness is relative. It sounds like shit in a fucking sandwhich. Just remember tiestos wife is actually like a decade younger than you. Great. I'm looking forward to all my favorite DJ's cradle robbing fashion week for this exact fucking reason. Is that a dig on one of the most legendary dance music DJs of our time? No, it's more of another pondering as to why I wasn't born a 9 foot tall porcelain skin blonde European looking model. I must have done something wrong in a previous existence. Have you tried paddle boarding? That seems /lame Fun! If I start now, maybe by May I can be EDC fit. What's the point of being EDC fit and not going to EDC? Hm. Okay. I can get a peloton, Or EDC tickets— Which should it actually be? What's the point of having a peloton If you're not going to EDC. Correct. But also— Why bother going to EDC at all if you're not going to be mad ripped from riding a peloton all day in your apartment. Also facts. That's what I'm here for Suddenly, I was acting weird. [being weird] Well, weirder than usual. Suddenly, my mind was racing— I was running around my apartment frantically in a halter top that I was certain I looked fabulous in— [looking at least kind of fabulous] — lil bitz. I'm getting to the age where I haven't quite given up, But realizing I'm not going to be the ideal just kind of sits with me in little ways. I haven't let go of myself, I'm not all the way giving up, but I'm more like, settled and secure with myself. A little more self confident in knowing if I wanted just any old dude, I can go out and get one. But I've been saving myself for someone really special. I mean really. And it's been years since I had sex. Actual years, so like— I'm at the point where I can just keep waiting, But sometimes I realize how long it's been, For instance, when I'm shopping, And I'm just kind of, looking around online Figuring out exactly what I want— And I'm scrolling, looking at all the selections And I see this baguette— Like bread, guys. Like a French roll and I think to myself “I'll take that.” I'm getting kind of turned on just looking at it, like Realizing it's bread— I'm like “Ooh, look at this baguette… Oui oui.” lol the fuck is wrong with you. Honestly I'm just looking for vegan chocolate cake without having to make it. Are we a team? …uhhh… kinda depends on who is “we” But since I can hear you faintly in my head, I guess so. Suddenly, I had the feeling that I had written something recently that might at some point become important. Hey. What. I like your five year plan. What fucking five year plan. The one from five years ago. Oh. Wait—what. Let's make it an 8 year plan. You mean 8 years from…from 5 years ago? See, you are good at math. —I—wait, what plan. Okay [chuckles awkwardly] See you later. What. Man, why do like half the characters in this show look and sound like Dillon Francis. Cause they're Dillon Francis. Might as well be. I had also has realized at a certain point recently that I would probably never get married again, and in my own right had set out to be “The Ultimate Lover!” Get out of here, Skrillex. What in the fuck is with that dude. What's wrong with him anyway. Something. Get out. FUCK, HE'S DEAD. Oh well. Not oh well! Someone's definitely gonna be upset about his. Probably! But that's an entirely seperate demographic. We can't be concerned with that. Not our business, The man is dead! You don't know, maybe he's just in A k-hole! [super duper dead] Whatever man. Just— Can you at least give me a hand with his legs. He's heavy. How can he be taller than he looks on TV— Goddamn, he wreaks! He hasn't even been dead long enough for that. I know, he just wreaks, man. Whatever. Look. Just— Ugh— Let's roll him into that tent over there. What. Just roll him in-/ Agh. And hurry up— Virtual Riot is about to start. Goddamn. The wooks. These aren't any ordinary wooks. They're frat boys Oh, that headdress, though. You remember the headdress! I remember the everything, I'm just— trying to forget. Crimes. Or at least—pretending to. You remember David after the dentist? [David after the dentist] AAAAAGAAGAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH Well, this is James after The Jam. Mm. What kind Of Jam is this! It's—Jelly. Ah. You're dead. It's—really good. You know what— This is Sauerkraut. Happy accidents is getting weird. Man. I like it. Untz untz untz I just found this out, and I'm over the moon like exactic about this— I just found out you can like, totally buy 5 lbs of marijuana Over the internet. For what? I don't know. Sounds like a deal. Sign me up. Anyway, I found this out— Because I found this bread I like Yes— I know Bread to marijuana We are—making connections— Anyway, I found this bread I like From this one place, And I love this place so much That I begin buying this bread regularly— I love it so much that, I'm looking through all their breads in their bakery and I realize, “Holy shit—they just have the most insane bakery, ever.” Like all the breads are sounding phenomenal— They're real bread— Most bread if it's real bread is vegan, So I'm looking through the bread like, “Holy shit, this all sounds fire—“ And when I like a place a lot— Especially in New York, I get weird about it. Like, I want to know the origins of the place. I love history— History—cannabis—and bread, I know. “Whose the lucky guy?!” lol. Nobody, obviously— if this is my life; but I digress. I'm looking at all these breads, All these artisanal, like— Fresh cakes and, Really unique like, Breads of every kind— And I start thinking to myself “I love this place.” “I love this place” So I start thinking about like the origins of this place— You know like, historically— Like, Sometimes you find cool stuff out about a place Macy's or whatever, Has cool history— Like the oldest surviving wooden escalator Being at the flagship department store in midtown Stuff like that. I love history— So I go to look up this place— I type this place into the search bar with absolutely no other specifications than I think, The name— And the first link that comes up Is a fire sale of 5 pounds of “hemp flower” But from the picture I can see that it's evidently really Complete marijuana— Actual cannabis flower; So I look into this matter, and I investigate this link a little further to figure out— “What is this?” And as it turns out, my suspicions are correct, You can now obtain large quantities of marijuana Via a Google search— By complete accident. I'm like, “Woah!” [Bookmark the page and shit.] “Keep that in there for later…” You know, just in case I ever have $2,200 dollars roughly of disposable income and ever feel like upstarting my very own drug enterprise… Er, restarting— But the drug enterprise I had in college was nothing like this— This is next level. Its the internet age now, buddy! Shit is legitimate. Wait, sorry— is the statute of limitations up yet? Whatever. Leave no trace. There—are bigger fish to fry. lol. Bread, man. I love bread. You make me mad, But I'm still in love with you; You might be far, but I'm still in love with you You might do bad, but I'm still in love with you Come back to bed; You know I'm still in love with you You make me mad, But I'm still in love with you; You might be far, but I'm still in love with you You might do bad, but I'm still in love with you Come back to bed; You know I'm still in love with you Doesn't matter (You know I'm still in love with you) Cause it doesn't matter (You know I'm still in love with you It doesn't matter (You know I'm still in love with you) I'm still in love with you— You know I'm still in love with you. You know what— Huh— Does lemon raspberry sound better or like, This caramel toffee? You know I love a good lemon ice cream— Lemon custard Posh. Ah, the hedons are back. /*herons (You know Insomniac's making their rounds. ) Getdamoney Getdamoney getda— Woah— hold up, what is this I don't know Looks lucrative Facts Hmmm— Worthwhile investment, perhaps Maybe, maybe Very well Getdamoney Getdamoney Getdamoney Take a look at this young buck, they said. So I did. Turns out, the jokes on me. Me, and all my old friends In all my old lives On all my old world Play games In other words, The world goes on, Then off, Then it goes on, We come home— To laugh with one another Me and my friends, We play games Out of body Mind games In the body Play lives, All for entertainment In the old world, We said “One” Off we run, I said So on, comes dawn again We all talk of old reunion. We all talk of— FUCK, man. It's non dairy. I don't give a fuck about your ice cream! We're all on ice cream. I don't give a fuck about ice cream! On, you don't. No! Alright. Done. You know, it's like one door opens— Another door closes; And that's true— But whatever fucking weird drone robots They're probably paying to just come in one door And out the other Are karma cannons— And by that I mean— Whatever's disturbing me; Will eventually disturb them— And maybe, just maybe— In the same annoying way. So one day somebody wakes up and writes an anthology saga about you. It's not about you, it's about me— That's what I said. And that's probably what happened anyway—is what I'm thinking—and either way, I'm just the protagonist of that series, anyway. That's—logical, I'm thinking. I'm also thinking. Man. It feels so good to just sit in silence. Yeah. It does. Didn't you want kids? Whatever. Abusive relationships suck. My version of our kid is hands down way better then your version of our kid. Hands down. Let's get down to the nitti grotti of things here. Nitty Gritty. 11:30. But that's when Tranwrexk is playing. Who the fuck is teaintwrext. No, it's. Whatever. Nitti gritti Okay, so I'm obviously like, not going to forget the lady beating the shit out of her dog at the Trader Joe's— But I think maybe even the best part about it was the fact that it was like, a pug. I'm not really ready to go out in public or anything-1 I don't know— I'm like traumatized by the disparity of the human race, or whatever. But shout out to the lady beating the shit out of her dog at the Trader Joe's. I don't know what he did. But if you're gonna beat your pug at the Trader Joe's, he probably deserved it. Goddamn you Marc Jacobs! This is what you get for leaving a puddle in produce section! Goddammit! What else are you gonna name a purebred pug that you take everywhere with you— Including Trader Joe's? “This is Marc Jacobs” We thought he was a puggle but it turns out he was a purebreed and we just got so lucky! He gets nervous around people— Sometimes especially at the Trader Joe's He just gets so excited! Bad Marx Jacobs! BAD! On another note why am I just not automatically genetically built like a 6'5 Scandinavian chick. Like, it's cool my legs don't grow any hair at all, but goddamnit I would rather walk fashion week and just— Automatically never be hungry. Imagine giving birth to a supermodel baby and just Here, baby— take this The baby is like: *milks for two seconds* Alright, I'm good. Are you sure, baby. The baby's like “I'm— all full” Are you sure? Baby's like yeah— put me on the treadmill for an hour, would you? I gotta go fast-crawl this all off. Breastmilk, whew. Heavy shit. Just set the incline to all the way up, alright— And make sure I turn up the propane pig to high volume I want to make sure I'm deaf in one ear And only have one brain cell I don't want them to think I talk to much. Mom's like, “Um, okay— are you sure you don't just want like, more breastmilk” Baby's like “No ma, put me on the treadmill and shut the fuck yo you fat cow!” Goddammit, alright. That's— Some kids are just born destined to be— whatever— you know? Me? I was destined to like food, but be pretty much allergic to it— Pretty much allergic to all of it. Not in the typical sense of like having a food allergy— Not getting hives or anything Just— Prone to max weight gain after minimal, regular fucking eating— Minimal fucking eating And maximum effort in the gym just equals More muscle Which, then, The excess fat will just sit on top of Sort of like— Just double fucking bad. It's insane. So that's two waist trainers Correct Two sauna suits Oh my God, what if he's actually 6'3? Who's 6'3?! Getawayfromme. Shoot that nigga. You have a nice double chin. Thanks, I got it myself Liz Nice. Comedy Central presents: roast of the hosts The comics of late night tv roast each other l HOw many jokes do I need? A lot. Let's start with the favorite Favorite? Nah. Jimmy Fallon looks constpated. Every time I see that dude, I'm like— —?! What's wrong with him. Also— Why do you look like the off brand version of Justin long? I smell a conspiracy. And aspercreme. What's up with your cheeks, bro? Are you a hippopotamus? — Jay Leno is like God's version of a live action caricature. _____ Why are you all Irish? ____ Kimmel— what kind of bird are you? —- . —- I've heard exchanging insults is like foreplay for comedians; now I'm genuinely starting to wonder how many of these specials have turned over into orgies. I always had a special feeling about Justin Bieber and Martha Stewart. I'm pretty sure we all did. Mama had a shotgun— And daddy hated broken glass I drink out of broken bottles Clasps slip from the hands That can't Grab Shit you're too fucking tall, anyway. The only person who's actually bigger than they look on TV Fuck that. What are you, 6'10? Stay the fuck over there yeo ming. Who drew you, Disney/Pixar? How do you be in a photo from head to toe; full body in the frame and still not be in the picture? This m'fucker's a ghost. Oh look. It's everyone's favorite blow up doll. WHY DO U LOOK ASIAN? WHO TF DID UR DAD KILL IN NAM? –KOREA? EITHER WAY. YOU'RE ASIAN BRO. You seem like that kid that used to walk up on his tiiiy toes and shit. You're weird, bro. That kid that used to walk up— —like this— That's that guy. Devil can't catch me if I don't sit still Still love Run around the world Ring around the Rosie I'm not broke, I jus got. Photo shoot coming up Hang up yo on the fence, Like paint I dry, Simi dinner hard Try hard see the light, go To the light now Go now, my time has come m Go where, how? It's time now for me to depart, my dear Ishii. Why—how?! Because, my boy—the time has come Time not what is! Time be us, you and I! And as we are, my dear boy. I must go. Time nothing but mind is you and I… You are right. Time — is— time. Ishii begins to cry softly, and then weep. Fair for fair and follow for follow— There not are I, And away we went, With wind and time, And the way was one The inside of a year, As the waking of dawn. At dawn, I strike— But was not called To weep, I wake, the tire of tale And yet the sun was in my heart, Yet not in my mind as the sky, And not in the time as the wind, and still, mi follow to love again I always call, And there, the wind where wind does lie, Not I, awake, but I instead as Sunset Again as time had sat upon my should And like bird does cry, The still be wind has shattered my love And in heart lives in such such dusk As pain, my heart, The wicked beauty, Shadowed and stranded Yet I awaken, And here ye, The vow dost took is not aligned— There I was, the call of once The statuesque and haunting Bleeding dry the river's way And almost as such there though of tears With yet had formed all shallow, and none The call of ways I mask misfortunes, There does bear a truth to the tree which bears fruit And give way to time, I am as oceans, Still as steady water's sky, and come what may Of all we have, There nothing lost, And there were fortunes True to shine as gold, And there in no way, Under us. Wax does melt but has not burned, As shadowtimes had set upon us, There, the call was made, and yes The wind had sat upon the waking dawn of eye And there, again the warrior ready for none other than the song of I, The cry of war, does wait unsettled in her wailing As their call had come As of naught, And then came, As does one. Be fair. Daggers! I rot. “Be fair”, says he. Daggers. I rot! Be fair, says I. Nay, The King. True, tis I. —and daggars! I rot. Wary. I find. So then, To have walked among the living and yet are dead— still you, waiting in quarry, Are now I not as King, As though now dost lie slain. Very. A greeting! Seeing now how such has i, Have passed and still yet waiting in how l My waking This fucker just won't die! Well, he can't. He can! (He should.) He has. Oh. Are you triggered. I knew I just have been getting somewhat important Somewhat. I figured this out when they started having people show up after I get to the gym. I knew they were all the same like people, cause for the the most part, they weren't working out, they would just like, align themselves with me, do a few pumps and then do whatever on their phones This one dude came in, and I was already sick of being followed Hadn't been to the gym in a few days cause these people just fucking bother me. Just fucking blows my mind how stupid people are— And I realized something really wrong with people. Like people are really fucked up inthe head, so, This is what I did, when I realized, they weren't going to stop fucking with me in a certain way, I started fucking with them back. I went upstairs to work out, started doing circuits. Did some pumps up stairs, Run the stairs like laps, Hit the tension machine, Kettlebells, Treadmill, then another circuit— {Enter The Multiverse} And I knew whoever was sending these people We're focused on fucking me up; Cause the people they sent were always like— Some kind of trigger. I knew it was some high level programming; They would send like a pretty girl with long hair To fuck me up Or some fat ugly dude who looked like my ex husband, Fat and shit, And they wouldn't workout much, they would just like, fuck around, then hit the phone— And I realized people were really fucking sick In the head, when I realized, After I psyched the fuck out of this fat dude Just fucking running circles around him and shit, Lifting more than he was struggling to fucking lift This dude is all upper body No fucking cardio No fucking legs Weak dick motherfucker. And I realized how sick people were when he goes up stairs And this is how else I know people are fucking with me They'll always get on the phone, And use their phones as intimidation and shit “Hi, yeah, yeah— I'm checking in. I'm a pussy ass robot and shit. Okay. Bye now. Wait—did you hit my cashapp yet? Okay thanks” How you know it's like an app or some shit. Fucking drones, man. But I could tell they were sick and I was somewhere in my way to wellness when, the dude left, then goes upstairs and gets on the phone, and I'm still downstairs and I'm like “Okay, since they're gonna keep fucking with me—when is the end of this album?” I went to check and I knew the album was an hour long— And I look and the album is on the last track and I thought to myself “I haven't touched my phone in at least an hour…” This dude has been in the gym for half the time and has almost not been off the phone He was on the phone more than working out And that's when I realized, Whether I skip a few days at the gym or not Whether I do what everybody else is doing or not Just that alone is rare. He was in the gym maybe a half hour or less And between every single set, he's on the phone Just like all of the other people who seemed to have been following me— And I realized That maybe they weren't even following me on purpose. Maybe they were being remotely sent in my direction somehow with their phones, without their intention or knowing. That is a possibility— And I knew the world had changed in a way that could possibly become dangerous, after being told for x amount of years we needed a SIM card, I've had my phone for almost 5 years, same model; up until now we “needed” a simcard— Now all of a sudden they're letting us know in one way or another “Hey, no we've always been able to remote control your phone” They've inteoduced the “e sim” which is their subtle way of letting you know They've always been able to turn on your phone signal Without you even knowing. Now they're selling you this technology “Oh, you don't need a sim—e sim” I looked, I didn't think my phone would be clmpatible It's a 5 year old model. “Oh no—it's compatible! Congratulations” Which means even 5 years ago before this technology became consumer, They had the ability to open your phone make calls texts and connect to a network They're just now letting you know This has been around for at least a decade And now they're selling it to you. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©