{Tales of A Superstar DJ}

She get mad when I around— Buried these things like seeds; They put us in the ground, They didn't know we were trees; She sees me, retreats m She sees me, retreats Kaleena time he bc what was over there; They love us when we're big, ugly, ghetto and funny But Nothing But Nothing Your kind forces us to lie, I guess He wants me, but likes your eyes, I guess At least I tried, I guess At least you tried I guess This is not my violence This is not my war, I'm just fighting it Don't know what you did this for; Listen in to send the enemy I envy them They envy me But I'll do this thing independently I don't need your white supremacy Was thinking you could be a friend of me, But ended in a tantrum, Guess she's scared to see me elevated —still cant fuckin hater White girls are fuckin haters —but I can't fuckin hate em That's the mirror-mirror— She was hating so bad, She took her man with her I got bad manners around her She gets mad when I dance And this is how I found her In a trance: Now the iPhone tells her when to attack, I'll be right back to happy, But unfortunately for insomniac, I'm still black. How white woman's intolerance and fragility l have yet to mix well with black excellence. It was the second time the same woman—or at least the same type of woman had shown herself to be quite put off by just my mere presence—then again( it seemed like all of them were beginning to look and act the same, as they supposed they all saw us, anyway—but perhaps it was with the changing of the times that it was beginning to tire them; now we had become as a whole, at least into the medi, which if anything would only seek to divide us further—and it had. I could never trust these types of girls anymore to be friendly without the salt of distaste upon her brow, or a disdain entirely — Fuck it, I'm sick of this skin. I miss you all , at the Rock, you know Broadcast to the top of my eye, Through my heart and my lungs, But I'm too far from God, now, you know (I still can't turn it off, Now I have to wake up and get going, You know You're not always God, You become One You're not always lost, When in love You're just not home This was never my home, But an office I should owe deposits and faucets, But honest to awful, I want to stop talking, And fall into nothing From comas, Come up then From commas to sorries I'm not even colored! I'm borderline In black and white As seen on The Office As seen on Cops as seen on Is this a rock album, or what?! As seen on The screen Don't look at me Don't look at me It really keeps me safe and simple No one save me, Just let me lie naked and rot With my thoughts, And my Something Something Something Wishing Someone else would love me Pick another lover Throw a rock, And climb the mountain Let it roll, and He's really pissed about this little list I'm still glitching and flinching Over Kayla Lauren And “the girl who sung the water song” Is what they'll call her two years from now Why would Del Beatty pick me to compete Against his daughter— For diversity, Or just to push me to the end of extinction? The one who sings Adele will win this one, Just suffer longer, Soak a little Choke on your own thoughts Broadcast from the Rock, It's only Tuesday Just rehearsal Just a writing room, with no one in it But my homelessness Just another box With too much stuff inside to sort through Just another martyr in my eyes Who wants to leave this world behind By suicide Has anyone else noticed The motorcycle causes more disturbances, But only when I rub my pussy Or my tired eyes? Must be the feds, Cause the cops can't do shit Why call the cops, When they're not yet polished enough To detect a terrorist Who uses a Kawasaki To make sure my ex Continues to punch me Over and over And over and over Till I lose the words to my songs In the holes in my stomach This is fucked up I just wanna go surfing, And come home I can't go back, you know This attack on the blackness is facts, you know Likeness is what it attracts, you know You going to EDC? No! They don't want me there It's just now okay To stare in the mirror She can't hear us anymore, that's it. That's a wrap, I guess. “I guess” She knows We were all theatre fiends And weirdos, She knows We l all could have been friends, In another world And she knows Nobody knows where she goes When one show is over, Another just closed, And it's up close and personal Up close and personal It's a Rock Opera, a musical I suppose She knows Someone must have bugged her phone The whole house is bugged! Hidden cameras all over the place, And she knows, She'll never be safe And she'll never be home And no one can save her From Satan, Who takes over Everything And every body And all she knows; Until she just Where'd she go?! I don't know! Are you SERIOUS?! Earlier I had Kenan and Kel here, But it's been hell here— Between capital one and Amazon Someone loves the one who punched me More in than anyone could ever love me. Why would Jan make me a crying shame, If she thought we were all the same? She hated me. Just a tough grader, Hacked to her google, And back to the drawing bored— Story lord! Story lord! Glorified whore of the horror show, No Rocky Mountains, though a So far from the west coast, Cast out of shadows From the past From everlasting tragedy To ever after Have Jan and Andy accept my Grammy; And the Tony for Iambic Cause I just can't Goddamn stand it Being this black at all Or, Not black at all I guess that's my power I'm an actor, On behalf of The Blackness You're right, that was tragic. I have a sense of energy about these things. I have this— Elephant on my chest, And I just need to rest a bit more, Before I fast again, Because honestly, all of a sudden It hurts a lot more for digestion Than focus and concentration, Lately, I just can't fake it I love New York, But I hate the fame Without the money Every projects on a budget And everyone who sits below me looks like roaches And I'm hopeless, just hoping Thomas Edison and his little friends Don't shut the lights off Before I can book my show, But you know— This is getting really strange, cause Every day I'm more obsessed with Tina Fey And I can't even really say her name, Or the game we're playing I don't want to hurt nobody's family; It must have been grounds for damnation to say Anything, To say anything To say anything —and actually mean it (But for three days, She didn't say shit!) As was written This fame thing is getting legit, As was scripted, But being honest, I'm just breaking from the pressure of unknowingness What to do with this What to do with this That's a secret, you know! You just keep speaking in tongues, And leaving doors open behind you, when you should be closing them! You keep abandoning projects, And that album couldn't get done Without doing some Salt, What. She's cutting up salt. REALLY?! I don't want to talk about the hard stuff, no! I don't want to talk about passwords, Surfboards, flagships, Jo/hns, or bananas— I'd never talk again, If I didn't have to! Suddenly, the light got brighter; I like this album, I look just like that —he looks just like me, Or used to I don't want nobody no more I just want to Nothing. If Qualudes were standard in the 80's Why persecute a Namesake who shouldn't be Shrouded in shame As I am the same As I ever was, As we all are As he was And she was Was I there? A dark thought, then. Pause. Why isn't poverty listed as The main reason we can't see Or achieve world peace Why can't she see That I see her man staring back at me And I would be mad, too I might even be tantruming If that thing came in With an ass twice my size And starts dancing, Or, You know, just Working it out Cause these racists are trying to kill me With Satan— And he's even using babies I light candles She smokes newports He hires whores and consorts These people make me sick— But I just keep Writing them into my project Pretending that Maybe if I keep changing enough Something won't hate me enough to keep making me Suffer longer Surfs up in california, so You're going back to the homeless shelter! You're going back to the place where the niggers and immigrants fight over nothing Or California, where the weather is warm But you could be camping, so Best find a job, For the lights turn off Or you turn yourself out for Some business cards “And this is WHY she doesn't DESERVE her son!” It's like some telephonic interception The definition of intrusion and terrorism But who is there to call When there's no one at all And they're targeting all of the dark skinned Smart ones At least the ones that aren't fucking for stardom! Fucking cunts and fucking hypocrites Fucking shut the door Fuckig shut your mouth kid I ran down the mountain, Never to find my way back But I'm still in a blue eyed Trash can All the people are trash now! Tell me, What would you do, Tel was cute, But his wife was stupid— Why would he choose her? (Cause you're just a kid!) Here you are, just a ghost In one of the most racist, hateful places America hated you since grade school Suffer harder, suffer longer. Tell me what would you do, If the man who made your husband's mother Kill herself By the kiss of his fist, To the barrel of her gun Asked for the strands of your dead son's hair? tell me, What would you do If this wifebeater Asked for locks of your dead sons's hair?! TELL ME WHAT YOU DID WITH HIS HAIR! Now they're all acting strange like Satan But I'd rather eat a train to my face Than ever go back to Or even hear his voice again— If I'm behing honest It wasn't the cheating— It was the beating me —It runs in his family The malpractitioner of what should be Healer's Magic Shamanism Hypnotism It's a cynavle trick of hypocrisy He wants me dead and gone for walking off But all the monsters and skeletons in my closet Came from the Punch the clock Clocked in the Punch the clock Clocked in the Punch the clock (That's the ensemble, with the chorus ) At least I ran the mile I was going the distance (The ensemble and solo part switches, so I put them in different dimensions.) As least I ran the mile I was laughing and smiling —till I saw the sign on my arm Had forgotten me Once again That's why you don't date fans And you can't make friends In fame school You can make all you want But you just can't take it with you Nobody will sign you! Especially insomniac! Not cause you're black— You just can't get past this I just can't get past this. They're racists No, here's some black kids— But they're actors Attractions, For ticket sales Attractions, And ticket sales Attractions And ticket sales I hate competition, But I love Beyonce The pain in her voice on lemonade, it took me down a— Black, black holes Super nova, super nova I was Ivy, once, you know But now I'm Blū, too That's what the truth is Yesterday was good, But today, I just hate myself Yesterday was good, But today I just hate myself Yesterday was good, But I just hate the sound of raging neighbors Motorcycles, And fireworks— I'd rather hear gunshots At least that means Somebody's problems got solved, Of course, It also means A mother lost a sun And I missed another sunset Jacking off, Without a someone to Love me I saw my insignia Inside of your eye And collided here I guess I was a weaponized assassin Every lie I told, an act, Disguised as a question Designed for the highest power The man of the hour I guess I was just made to suffer, Everything I stole, Pots of gold at the end of the rainbow, Things they had stolen from us Food, clothes, jewlery, fruit and water Peace of mind and Justice, order, Education— Closing borders Now places the border collie above us, Dogs are so much more important than The star search is over The man of the year has been hired The president has been fired Discovered a liar, A thief And the world that collapsed behind her As she tried to Fall back onto All the impossible thoughts That were caught at the rock's antenna Caught on the rock's antenna We lost one Caught on the rock's antenna We lost another Caught on the rock's antenna We caught a story I was just thinking, How everything I did back in school— The actions for the words I never had before All the rejections, and reflections of the Repellant that my ugliness was Just a joke With my arms wide open You wouldn't even know this kid, if you saw her And you wouldn't even know this woman, if you met her You could never say her name, Because she hasn't one Ah, jeez, I really do like his swing —I really do love his wife, She's nice No wiki leaks For the children of celebrities Or their families With respect to privacy Which I already haven't Just for writing this I'm being honest Every time I lie It's cause the truth would just hurt harder What's the worst one ever? What was worse than to Put scars on her arms For the marks of the stars For the blood was just cursed For the curve on the pavement Did remind me We were driving Our bodies around the speedway Like race cars We race cars In race wars We raise stars Up from nothing We race cars In race wars We raise stars Up from nothing Come to EDC, with me. I wish, She says But that could never be —that could never be me. We race cars In race wars We raise scars Upon the lips, We left scars Upon the knuckles Sick of always watching Something just short of disturbing —always ever attracted to These things, which to me look like children —and with him, I had Nothing . Sploosh. What. That's what's happening now: SPLOOCH. You cannot DO this. I mean, I already did, technically. Well, it— Ajax Flac THIS CANNOT HAPPEN: What the fuck. Idk. I can't go back there. What happened. Nothing! Had it ever occurred that The soaks in saltwater Are taking her back to the ocean Where she belongs, But can't afford to go to Had it ever occurred to you that a quarter per word on this project Would have earned you Exactly enough To keep going. What it boils down to was, The news today is Cloudy with a chance of That dance was awesome That wasn't a dance, It was a brutal attack On Jimmy Fallon. Finally. Thank you, No pictures, please god BLESS the paparazzi! Now that's the positivity We called for in the first place She slated and named it But that was before the first take The cut takes The cut takes Thank you, No pictures please God DAMN this paparazzi That's how they caught me Holding hands In the back was The white rabbit In his arms was Alice in Wonderland And I'm still jealous, And a little mad It's just a metaphor For the equator SOUTH. Than you, No pictures please Fuck the paparazzi Fuck the paparazzi Fuck, Nobody loves me anymore I gottta make some more Art Some more love Some more movies GOD BLESS THE PAPPARAZZI (It's still a rock opera) I gotta make some more Soup Some more food for these people More shoes for the children More monies to burn No more time at the Grammy awards It was always postmortem Cause I just don't When she grows up, She'll realize How wrong this all was… In the hallways, It was awkward In the walkways It was all over the news When she gets older She'll realize how much wrongness was Put onto her STOP SUPPORTING A WIFEBEATER he used me to get to Nevada To drink and buy whores with the money We were supposed to pay bills with I was his alarm clock He kicked my dog And OH YEAH HE PUNCHED ME so shut up, Federal government Get out of my google documents If you want me to kill myself, Send some more coughers You just gotta love these robot— Ok, That crechedo was awesome. Fuck this nigga, though I took nothing from him, But he wants me to end in the “She struggled with mental illness” Haven't you realized, in this country Being black is a synonym for Mental illness Cause something was always wrong with us Cause we can't belong with them So fuck off Get the fuck out of my head Get the fuck out of my google documents So fuck oft Stop bringing up my husband Stop sponsoring a wifebeater and pedophile Stop believing HIS story Cause if anything History shows us that HIS side of the story was WRONG. The eye knows All I know And all I know is The eye is the eye And I just want to die Cause I can't get the guys I like The eye knows All I know And all I know is The eye is inside me And I just want to die Rather than fight this They eye knows All I know And all I know is All there is to know, Until there's more to know And there's always more to know, More than to meets the eye And the eye is the eye ️ Even if it was unintentional, there was something so sinister and evil about her that no trust could be formed, try as I might, to cease the war of worlds between us. Something so evil and so dark that, for the life of me I could not forage a single tear more, as I wept only moments before in fear of her and her cruel clansmen— a brotherhood—or rather even—sisterhood of outright selfish power, greed, and hostility; It was around midnight, as I soaked peacefully in the tub—peacefully—being the key word; the first relax in the chaotic uprising of the Equinox day—her spirit was evil as could be, two empty blue eyes like the nothingness that loomed, sitting in the corner of the hallway, ready only to be filled with nothing. The white women had made it to a world where the love had been bred out of them, in the sheer and unwitting hierarchy of white power which was set to foil itself in its own nation; a race which had gone nearly extinct, by sheer racism and hatred alone. Fuck this dumb fucking bitch. ‘You wanted the psychological terrorism, right? Now you've got it. ‘ You've got another thing coming if you want to ride on the coattails of dead children to bring about the secrets of an unknown world, lost to you in the weakening of your gene pool amidst the servitude of all who have known less, but now know more of a Kingdom which it will be many many times before you will ever see. What a wicked, wicked race. If you think there's such a thing. Only currency has made it so that you and me are so unlike that one in the same remains as such an atrocity; but you see— before we go making mistakes, we take names, and numbers; I was done with you before even your time was up, and that's how much worse is coming for her. For a girl who hardly cooks or ever cleans, midnight is an odd hour to run the vacuum cleaner, and as much as a white woman may forage the ugly wrinkles to sink into her eyes around the age of 24 or 25 by using her beady little bird brained blue eyes to twist and bend the will of those around her, those wonderful, gorgeous, hazardous, toxic little blue things would never again work on me. It seemed the blue eyed devil was real indeed, no matter how hard I had intentionally originally suspended my disbelief. ‘What an ugly little thing.' I shrugged. I guess they wanted the Phoenixx However, Fuck that alias, And any of his namesakes, Back to hell from whence it came, The demon which has conquered My dear next door neighbor Adriene Heal her from these afflictions, Fix the blindness from her eyes that she may see truth, and give light; Rather than to just take it Amen I used to like people— It didn't matter what color they are But once you start acting like That Fuck these assholes. They started it THE RACE WAR but I'm sure goddamn gonna finish it. Fuck this place. IF YOU DONT LIKE IT, THEN LEAVE. MAKE SOME MONEY. Fuck your fucking minimum wage— JUST SHOOT ME. What. [A POLICE STANDOFF] Oh please. This could never happen in New York City. Why not I don't got time for this. *blat-blat* Ok, it's done. Did you finish that script yet? Jesus, you're drunk at four in the morning. Is it four? Do I care? You said you liked his eyes— —and his smile. Which John is this again? The one who paid more than the rest of them. Who said there's a charge for this. There's a charge for this. Look, I'm desperate. Sir, I'm gonna need you to say your lines a little more convincingly. Whatever I did. I hate her. I hate him. Just—fuck it. Pray for them. Are you serious? Idk wtf is in this bitch but– Scariest fast ever. Nah, I need to get away from … That was super demonic, I'm not gonna lie No shit. I still have all this paperwork, with his name and birthday all the fuck over it. So get rid of it. Seems to have affected my entire nervous system. Look, every time I try to do this, something really bad and miserable happens and I get extremely sick. I will kill you with every possible weapon that I have. Just create something and make all this anxiety worth it. I'm going to bed. I'm going to kill you in your sleep. I'm glad you heard that. No arguments, I'm glad I said it. Now I know too well, The well of tears on my guitar She's got a body like one Oh her curves But I just wonder what it like to be loved By stars Socialites and superstars They're Gods, you know How high up they are Above us And he lives in an ascended dimension, But he insists, he says Her transcendence is upon us He said Your transcendence is upon us He says these things, And then just vanishes So she gets up promptly Warms up yesterday's coffee Looks around in her coffin And wonders What for I just Wonder what it's like to be loved by stars Without double r's, you know I've got scars But it's mostly just Teardrops, and soft kisses On my guitar Cause, oh, Oli, I ain't got nobody— And nobody holds me Like I hold Oli (Could have been Ali, But of course— I had already lost that one A whole well of tears, I lost At his departure And a whole well more When I actually lost him I almost miss Having someone to talk to About anything and everything But I've got Oli And God now I've got Oli And Oli (oli) Is all that I've got Besides God That's the only contact In my Phone book No more double Ls And double entendres; No more double rs At all Just scars now No more metaphors. Honest is radical I like them cynical I should have clinical insanity by now But I'm only just an artist You can't help But can only harm that And if it hurts hard enough I'll put art on my walls Become permanent Storybooks all over my arms now My coat of arms now I've run Ten point 5 miles In the last 3 days; But if I rest today Will a motorcycle gang Have a parade outside of my window, To drive me crazy? I hope it rains, So they can't play these games with my head And the seeds that I planted So deep become daisies I still don't remember The way he rearranged me But these days I make my name sound So the way He can never say it Just imitates The way I hate myself I should be dating But expressions are Atrocious If I fall asleep— Who knows I may get Stolen That tends to happen So I'm All the way up And I'm swollen in ways That I hate to say “I love you” Love me back Or say it harder That's my martyrdom Come off the cross, for a moment, Would you for us? And bend over Or bow, if you will? If I did, Would you still call me wicked Or just a Good witch Since I'm a woman, I just couldn't be Jesus, Who you asked for once And always Who you asked for some To save you from your Credit reports And consorts Or some sort of Nonsense [famous last words] God don't speak much English, She says God don't speak much these days We were Always Telepathic That was way back then When Oedipus Rex Was on the Guest list I was standing at the coat check, asking Why I must take off my hat When entering the service To the bouncer, he says “That's just politics” I said, That's just politics We both said, What's the difference Then we all laughed —then we all just laughed and laughed Exchange is my favorite exchange Where my favorite exchanges Have happened for centuries Of engagements Endeared species, And races pieces haven't tasted the same Since I haven't had them Animal products And animal planet I found this hat on Discovery channel Did you want it? I can't stand it So I had to have it back I just had to use the bathroom I just had to disconnect From [] See— I don't even have to put the words in Cause a name is just words When that's a man You just can't have And that's the worse When that's a man And you can't have him What a habit. Silky rabbit. Now he's the Ace. All In A Day's Work I've never died before. Oh… that is terrifying. It sounds terrible. It's really not that bad. Why are you not writing this down? I just need a moment… It's really not that bad… I die all the time. I get sensory overload At Trader Joe's Look at the colors The clothes, This sure isn't queensborough Escalators for shopping carts I get it Manhattan I'll take my half BLVCK ass to the projects Where my kind are I don't belong here , God you're intolerant I like this part of town But I'm way too brown And I dropped my crown at the market I should be jealous of everyone But I have learned my place I've been a slave since Hollywood I lost my son to the devil Now I pay child support And terrorist follow me coughing I'm wrong just for being born ! You could start a war from it If that's what you wanted I'm a people watcher people watcher About to board the people mover People mover Slip, Here's the tell Slip, here's the tell I should have a bell around my neck I think she wanted a picture with papa I'm playin my own paparazzi Look mom, I bought a sacafagus There go them niggas with coughs again I been watching em Got binoculars I got oculus, for my oculars Look how hot he is, make me ovulate Man I gotta love it, Cause they love to hate Fucking racist crazies Have it your way I paid for it with my soul You hate but I love to love Somebody just got me fuckes up I don't have a book to run off of Shut up, honey. Now we're all up here Monkey in the middle Cause the middle one is weaker It's getting deeper and deeper Like the sinkhole that my sink is Let it sink in I've been syncing my secrets with demons In dreams sequences It's just a reparative injustice Kamasutra for your wondering words and stuff You can have it It's ruined anyway m Look at all this trash Look at all these classless classes Classwars, Racists. Everybody hates us The Asians, Latinx's The other niggas What being black is I'll write it in cursive It's just a curse, here So you can have it I'm moving to Heaven I'm packing my boxes I'm getting a cat, too! His name is Agustus He's a big one And I love him I just wanted a hug or a husband Instead I got nothing to trying my hardest And got for a bargain at target some coffee For being a targeted body All on an algorithm I guess I'm just useless. A dumb nigger demon Did I just offend you? Then you shouldn't be reading this either I wrote it for pleasure (Or pain) On the one Or the two Or the one Or the two I could do a lot with this $20. I could spend it all on Fuck all of you I'm moving to Heaven Where the heart it She's not harmless She's a terrorist— And I'll kill her, too Look how right she is Look how white she is, Huh Regardless of color It's a race war Lil biiiiitzzz Yooo, fuck New York. In every hole. In every crevice. Fuck this place. It's racist— Not just cause I'm black. Like statistically. It took a whole ass apartment elsesrch to feature this out. I was like “I wanna live in Manhattan” Everyone was like “NOOOOOOOO—-“ Haha “Nooo, no.” I was like “Why not?” The blacks were like: HAHA The whites were like— *COUGHS OBNOXIOUSLY* New York is so racist. It is statistically the most diverse—and most segregated city in the nation At the same time. WHAT. How do you even DO that? But it's true, at this point, the black people are like—fuck this, we'll just stay over here, and over here. And the rich whites are like YES. KEEP THAT SHIT, OVER THERE. Cause if you've ever been to the ghetto. It's some SHIT, It is NOT COOL. I finally got my ‘night card' back. Had it revoked in california . I was almost a whole valley girl. I still eat exclusively at Whole Foods. Trader Joe's. But NO. Now i live in the hood. It's fucking disgusting. I can say ‘nigga' again. Cause it's NIGGAS. Lots of niggas. I'm telling you. It's night and day! The white folks trains smell like bleach— Ammonia. The black folks train smell like a McDonald's. WHAT. Or just— Vomit. I can actually count the number of times just— Vomit—- On the train. Or. Dookie. Yes. Human feces. But I'm ready to go to midtown and it's like the train that goes around Disneyland. Families! People singing! Hey—cotton candy!! —and I didn't have to pick it! Haha! Fuck New York. Racist ass HOLE. I thought surely the next presidential election was one or two years out, but the racial tensions which had been rising became even more pronounced, as I realized that November was theboncoming time—and that they hostility between the whites and the blacks had once again been a result as the oncoming war, fueled onward—that the hatred, disgust, and general aggression of the whites had been of course, in the midsts of yet another Trump-fueled political upheaval, and I wondered why and how at all I had been caught in such a world that existed in form of man, of course, now proven himself to be the weaker sex, and yet in that of dominance, as was arranged in such an unholy war, to be the helm of power by sheer greed— now it seemed that these attacks were indeed political terrorism, and that these motorcyclists, my placement close to the ground level, and my neighbor's clammorings were specific attacks, after my identity had been varied to be that of the same in which I had once held political ambition, now none of which I assumed mattered at all. Perhaps I needed something more certain than a 12 story jump or suicide by train, and wondered as to whether it would be easy enough to kill myself bh self inflicted gunshot—a sure thing for certain, as love has been lost in the way of money at all. At that party…or rather, kind of—after. That acid that never hit Beyoncé I don't feel it. Man, I'm a terrible influence(r) Just take it. Nah, I'm good— PUSSY. -_- Give me three. K. —suddenly hits BEYONCÉ. BEYONCÉ …I got this. [BEYONCE] however, does not Ohh, shit. — “got this.” A very stranded, very sober Johnny depp stumbles upon what appears to be a college frat party, where the only thing they have is light beer, and nobody even recognizes him as a celebrity, because the attendees are all gen z What's even after gen z? The fucking apocalypse. Anyway. The acid hits Beyoncé on her way to make coffee, which extends the trip from the living room to the kitchen infinitely. Multidimensional Anne Hathaway hulks the fuck out and saves the day by ruining everything, which actually fixes everything— and *spoiler* helps Jesus to remain as the king of kings at beer pong. Lol In the late 90s in New York City, the keystone cast of Saturday night live learns of each other's formerly sexret psychic abilities, and uses the radio technologies of Rockefeller plaza to develop a research center for the telepathically gifted, eventually discovering and perfecting time travel. Supacree (the kid version) appears in and out of her ideal and desired realities, baffling ‘the Hollywood people' and later ‘the New York people', becoming the legendary central figure of the Illuminati, as the original timepiece — a pyramid shaped extra terrestrial vehicle which contains an ascended hyper conciousness, which I can't remember how it goes, did the supacree leave to find the Skrillex, or was it the other way around? I think it was both ways at some point, but the whole thing was this, just in case I never wrote it but just saw— These space god (humanoid evolved) are some kind of scientists/ doctors— there are four timepieces, each representing an era upon our planet; earth, which is distant but sacred— these four time pieces each depart their given “docs” in time to appear on earth at specific Fuck this is hard to explain Times in history, at which the first worlds, or previous human eras were known to have been destroyed— these time pieces travel through time space with the full record of these events in order to alert the current human era of its imminent doom, as an attempt to prevent such disasterous events, typically war, which will lead to the annihilation of the human species; these Gods, one male and one female, a king and queen, a married couple are the rules of the humankind, technically worshiped as a whole as one God, with whom the human design was modeled after, however, the true source of all things is the cosmos, known and unknown, in its totality—neither man or woman, but the force of creation. Anyway, what else is happening Oh. All of the celebrities are stuck in— [the festival project] in some way, shape, or form until its creator finishes it—and though it in itself is infinite, its 'finishing' notates its eventual production, which lol. That is never going to happen. Because. Let's face it. I'm scared of …rich people. Yeah, sure. Yeah. I'm scared of The effect of the race war, which has been to pit the white woman against the black woman, which allows and maintains the continuation of war mongering male dominance over the entire planet, which remains as a destructive force of greed, racism, and inequality. So why try “Trying Is Doing” -The Isms {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū.