{Art Imitates Life.}

I hate country music You know why? You all sound like slave owners. Yup. Country music just sounds racist, Well, it is racist. Even that shit was stolen— Country music is derived from the songs slaveowners used to steal from their slaves x Yes. I'm a sovereign submissive, A subtle subordinate Look at wrist Warm winds, SZA First stop, AH, fuck— Well, check this out No such thing as free. No such thing as freedom, either “Just take what you need” Just tear me to pieces, Jesus All we need is A little relief I'm this bitch All we need is A new release, maybe an EP or three Make sure that s/hesees this Do you need me? Do you need this? Please check your subscriptions Or your email Please, pick up this new prescription Fuck dude! I can't just listen to deadmau5 in peace? I gotta do at least three things at once, But right now, I need to focus on crunches Let's not get wasted tonight, eh. Let's go and be racist—- I forget what the name of the game is It's “USA! USA! USA!” The fucked up thing was , the preworkout and the Skrillex hit at just about the same time. Oh, just about? The exact same time. Okay, first of all, this is pre-war Skrillex. It's also Diplo! It's also Diplo—yeah. Don't be too proud of yourself NO CRYING IN THE SAUNA. But this is where I cryy! DO NOT CRY. Oh. *sniffles* Now… You know what happens if you don't cum? Uhhh…nothing? Exactly. You know what happens if I don't cum? What. My balls explode. Just make sure they're in my mouth when that happens. Wow. I don't belong here! Well, where do you belong? I don't know. @99@c Look, I have a favor. What is it. ANo. Oh, come on! NO. NO. Please! I need you to be my girlfriend. Lol. For what? I don't know. How much is he paying you? Like a kajillion dollars. That seems fair. His isn't fair. They're using Skrillex to provoke me. Come earlier tomorrow! Or just, don't come. Don't go! DONT—GO. I am leaving! NO! Yes! No! —and I am never coming back. Do you know who your audience is? Uh. The CIA THE FBI Everyone in The Oval Office. BIDEN nice. The UN. THe DEA The Secret Service. The office of Public Affairs Uhhh… Keith Richards Allison Cooper Sirs Elton John and Paul McCartney, Respectively What—for what?! The President of NBC CBS ACC fox 5, 10, and 13 That's really random. Al Jazeera, al Sharpton And Al Bundy Wait—what Oh, did you just mean, like in this dimension? Uhhh.. This is enter the multiverse YeH WHWRE IS SKRILLEX He died. He's dead. Go away. That's like 3 Skrillex songs already You guys are gonna wake up the devil. What. Stop doing that. Stop doing what. You know what you're doing. You're summoning the devil What are you guys doing? Summoning the devil. In my basement? Yes. Okay. Have fun. Dang, she's so cool. I like her. I love her. What are they up to down there? Summoning the devil. Oh. Cui bono— For whose good or benefit LIL BIIIIIIIITZZZ. I think we can all agree the cringiest trend ever is the crocs trend. The insignia of fucking laziness. I don't care who you are— if I see you wearing fucking crocs I'm going to assume you're stupid; one, cause you follow what everyone else around you is doing--and two because you think it looks acceptable. It looks dumb. It looks stupid “But they're comfortable. You know what? There are other comfortable shoes that are more functional— I wear nikes. They're slip ons, no laces— they're cozy as shit And you know what? I can outrun a dog if it's chasing me, trying to bite my ass. This trend is horrible. And you know what? It's gotten so bad to the point where, if I see someone wearing crocs, and they've actually got the sling on—I respect them for it! Not all the way, but a little more. Like hey—you tried. You tried today. But the fucking crocs the sling over the top— You're fucking lazy. I don't give a fuck what kind of job you work— There's no excuse for fucking lazy. Clean up after yourself! Do your dishes! Wash your ass! Put shoes on! —Real fucking shoes! Unless you're an actual like, nurse or 87 years old, crocs are not acceptable! I don't care! People are lazy now. “Tales of a Superstar DJ” “Strange Dream5” I had been been having very strange dreams and a lot of them happened to have been starring Kurt Sutter which I found strange— but I had been writing a lot lately, which didn't explain anything about Charlie Hunnam also having appeared, or Reese Witherspoon—or Dakota Fanning…and though I was no longer having to listen to deadmau5 just to sleep his counterpart had started appearing on very vivid dreams—which I did not necessarily have to write down to remember, at all, however—this one was surprisingly strange, rather hilarious, and not at all explicit. I awoke craving barbecue ribs and scraping my head, wondering what I might need to do today to move forward and progress…but I was at a loss, for words, at least—but certainly not for music. There was a gathering at Kurt (and Katey's) house celebrating some show or something—there was a big party with dinner and deadmau5 was playing; when deadmau5 came out and hopped on the mic nobody could hear him—the mic wasn't connected—his helmet was also much different, it looked like some sort of ancient incan mouse head carved from stone (but obviously not stone-/ which was rectangular and had green lights for the eyes and mouth—I questioned whether or not it was really Joel and looked at his arms to confirm that it was using his tattoos—I was excited to hear deadmau5–it was an intimate gathering so we were all situated around the decks—Katey (Segal) went up to the decks and adjusted a chord which looked like a jumper cable and the mic turned on, and I thought “aww, thanks, mom” —then someone—either Kurt or Katey went to the other side and plugged the mic all the way in so we could hear Joel over the mic. He played an anthem sounding song and I thought “nice, new deadmau5 “, but the song sounded old, like pre-2010 deadmau5; either way, I was just happy to listen to new deadmau5. I got on the floor in front of the decks and put my arms behind mu head to rest, then crossed my legs in the shape of a figure-eight and thought “ah, the way I always listen to deadmau5, anyway” (—which is not true…but perhaps I just meant laying on my back? Idk.) I rocked to the music like a pendulum and faded away in my mind—I didn't seem to think it was strange and neither did anyone else; it felt normal. after the show while everybody was eating (I think it was barbecue/soul food) Joel went to smoke a cigarette and indicated I should follow him—which I was weary of, but I did; he went quickly down the 3rd out of 4 stair cases; and I mistakenly went down the second—I realized my mistake and peered at him through the bars; the staircases (which were apparently the entry/exit to Kurt Sutter's house was like the lower level of a pyramid which seemed Mayan or Incan in style; I went down the 3rd staircase and did not see Joel, so went all the way to the bottom and climbed up another set of stairs, frustrated. “Kurt sutter has the worst house ever!” I said or thought, as I approached Joel at the top of another staircase, which was half the length of the others; it appeared I had somehow ended up on the other side—he sat in an opening that was colorful, though the paint was wearing, and moved himself from a colorful patch and said “ew, orange!” I sat on the wall next to him trying not to look at him and he made me so nervous (not because he was famous, but because I found him to be cute; we actually both seemed to be famous throughout the whole dream—as there were other famous people at Kurt and Katey's gathering, which included Charlie hunnam and many cast members from sons of anarchy, who were all shirtless.) anywho. I sat next to Joel and looked up at him; he seemed so tall and as if his head was in a plastic fish bowl, with masking tape at the bottom; I looked down and there were a pair of white baby crocs wrapped individually in plastic— I said “aww”, because they were baby sized—but then “yugh!” And kicked them away, Joel was like “why???” And I said “because they're crocs,” then we had a really weird conversation about the the rubber seal on a bottle of baby soap (that doesn't exist) and the dollar store that didn't make any sense at all—something about using the rubber seal to escape and swim to the other side—but then having to swim back anyway because you forgot something at the dollar store. It did not make sense—at all—but we both agreed that we loved the dollar store for whatever reason. “Joel,” I asked “can I ask you a question?” “Sure”, he said “what's it like to have done what you've done with your music—I mean really.” That's not what I wanted to ask; it was a cover question and he seemed to know it “no.” He said. “Why?” I asked, and he responded “because I'm going to ask you something.” I said “okay…l and I wanted to know what— but I was quiet. “I always go first” he said, slipping off his blue cotton boxers without taking off his shorts—which was impressive. “Okay.” Then, a strange dark skinned boy— approached us, first stopping at Joel, and kissing his hand—then coming to me—the boy had an Afro and was dressed in some tribal getup, and had heavy metal snake earrings, which I didn't like—when he went to kiss my hand, he opened his mouth to bite me instead—I pulled my arm away, which I realized had been covered in some kind of lavish warrior's attire, a colorful arm band that went all the way up my arm; “I'm not gonna fight you!” I said, and as I tried to kick him away the boy reached for my foot to bite it, and I thought “now I'll have a bite mark to match the one on my hand…” but didn't want to be bitten again, so as I kicked him, I suddenly realized I was in a dream, and that Joel was still beside me, but fading away—I was waking up. Joel…Joel…Joel…!!!”, before “FUCK.” I wanted to know what Joel was going to ask, but was suddenly awake, my foot still pointed and stretched as if I were going to kick; I could still feel the imprint of his mouth on my right foot and as I awoke. “Goddammit!” I thought, reaching for my phone to begin to write, and becoming overtaken by the baseline of a song I couldn't quite recall, looping at first in the back, and then, in the front of my mind—- “Hm.” , I thought. Now I was very awake—I rested my foot to a normal position. “WHAT THE FUCK.” I thought. I very rarely dreamt about Joel (and never about deadmau5) but it was a very strange dream. There was nothing sexual about it—and I indeed seemed more impressed that he had taken off his boxers than anything under them, without taking off his basketball shorts—and, as I reflected—it was weird that he was wearing basketball shorts. “What a weird fucking dream.” I was certainly more calm inside the dream, but now, upon waking, was confused, alightly nervous, and very angry at the dark skinned Afro boy for trying to fight and bite me—which of course, reminded me of the fight with my roommate weeks earlier, from which I still did have the half-moon shaped bite marks, even after all that time—and it was, strangely enough a half-Moon outside. The baseline rolled on and became louder in my mind, reaching full form— “This is the Hook.” ‘Oh, yeah…' I thought. ‘It's catchy. You like it.' “Yeah.” I thought. “Okay.” “I guess we'll start there.” {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.