N3W W0RLD 0RD3R.

I knew I was being watched at all times, and the more I paid attention to being watched, the less noticeable it would become. I threw up a flare in way of not caring; I ate what I wanted and ran about in an inward frenzy—yet also, in a cool, and outermost calm state. I felt already that I had lost the game; that I wasn't famous yet, and so I wouldn't or couldn't be—I had failed, and so it didn't matter what I did or didn't do. I had no one left to please, however, I couldn't seem to stop writing— and I hadn't been, really. But now, it came about again automatically as it had in the beginning. I wasn't angry, and I wasn't going to be; my feelings were justified, and they had to be, because somehow, they still existed—despite my trying to abolish them as it seemed everyone else had in the way of making and sustaining income. But I was miserable, not doing anything anywhere near what I wanted to, and wasn't making the money I needed to do anything but wake up and exist in a rather unadmirable fashion. @zaexoolin October, deadmau5 I had written galaxies of entries into The Festival Project, and it didn't seem to matter at all— I wasn't making any money from it, and now, I didn't know how to. I hadn't the time or energy to organize the Project into anything understandable to anyone other than myself, and though the whole of it was somewhat complete; if completion was attainable any, in the infinite sense and overall nature of the project itself—but it had not yet been standardized into any format which would even be moderately accepted in the writing world wirh any interest; it wasn't Hollywood formatted and didn't fit the picture for any other adaptable publication—it had its own form and while I very well understood it, it would take a decent amount of explaining to anyone my vision for the massive project. Still, the universe had a way of telling me I was selling myself short and maybe even selling my soul in the exact opposite way as anyone might have chosen to—I wasn't having any fun, experiencing the benefits of actual fame, though The Festival Project's strange cult following had become effective in making itself apparently notable, and I was literally living hand to mouth on borrowed time. Though escaping Vegas by just a hairline, and finding bits and pieces of myself scattered all across Los Ángeles, the notion of becoming homeless and out of my senses loomed over me with every colored person howling and cussing at themselves and at the world—and not that there hadn't been such in Las Vegas—in fact, there were more, as the Nevadan mental health system was far worse than California's healthcare by anyone's standard, and yet— it was more forcibly apparent that rather than by choices, the homeless of Los Ángeles were there by circumstance. Though I hated it, I was willing to work any job that would secure my independent housing, as I had learned to live with very little and stayed content in doing so; a true minimalist, I fancied not what others had as to keep up with the times, but only of things I hadn't. I wanted my own door to shut, my own bed to make—my own kitchen to cook in, and although it came at a cost, the skyrocketing rent in LA was worth it enough, equated to the energy alone in the city. I wasn't anytime soon going to Mexico without a decent amount of money, and more than probably wouldn't be able to keep up the pace of a commission-only job enough to secure a space in LA—but I knew something was coming. After all, there was a coughing demon following me everywhere I went, and so I thought myself to be a pretty important obsession in someone else's mind to put out such a terrible force of energy. It didn't seem to matter much, anything, actually—I wasn't doing anything I wanted, I wasn't getting what I needed, and I was harder working than anyone I met at all. The end of my life could be any day at any time, and so I became reckless in the aftermath of having lost all that I had ever loved. R E C K L E S S Los Ángeles What if I took my heart out? | | | You'd love the taste of my blood, With a Bite of the lip, and a twist of the tongue Pull me under, No wonder— Catch more flies with honey Oh. I didn't know you go here It's below zero where I'm from Cold as the stone you were under, That went unturned until Suddenly, I was at home dear, All alone where All of a sudden you know me; No, Let's not go there— I was in the clear, I was in the clear I was in the air, with you I was in a dream, and then Woke up to care for you Staring at the wall In a cold sweat Oh, there you are again I didn't know you go here Hello, dear Better prepare the proper paperwork Better prepare the proper paperwork Better wear the proper attire; You're said to inspire the choir In your downward spiral Look at my eyes Look at my eyes Look at my eyes, when I lie to you That's just the life of a writer; Live and we die just to love you Then write of it But in spite of it all And everything I stand for; Coming this fall: I could fall for you What if I took my heart out? | | | You'd love the taste of my blood, With a Bite of the lip, and a twist of the tongue Pull me under, No wonder— Catch more flies with honey —Shhh. The brim of my hat, on a pole Where do I get off writing stories? Where do I get off—? Ah Where do I get my glory? Give me my roses, I'm horny Give me more, Moses; I've had it up to here with this nonsense Divine nonchalance and omnipotence God, this is potent You poisoned my apple with acid, I know it Alone in a fortress ‘Four figures is worth it,' I figured Go figure, Addicted to light fixtures, forged as robotix I hope to God i get off of this rocket as polished and Godlike as Ali But nobody gets it, but me and my daughter Who doesn't exist yet Or did, And we're simply reliving the story Instead of just Writing it Riding the bus to the end of the infinite Invisible Infidelity, hell is embellished with heavenly decoratives and eloquent expletives Where the hell is my stop, anyway I stopped paying attention Where the Hell do I get off? —for S— —Ssshhhhhhutthefuckup!!! Watch this Ugh Get it? Stop it, Satan. Stop what? Come on. Stop following me. You like it— —Sometimes it's funny. You're very quick. Could be quicker. I could give you this whole damn city, if you want it. It's already mine. Wouldn't it be nice if everyone else knew it too? Nobody has to know. Oh, but you'd like that. I'd like a lot of things. But not love? What is that? You tell me. Name your price. Are you serious!? How's the weather? I want to make a baby Dhow me that you love me Come inside me, then divide me Bring the joy into my pride Cause I admire you I desire you, Light my fire; I exist to inspire you Dammit. Dammit. —down girl. I told you I'm going to put that dragon to sleep. I'll put it to sleep. Dragons don't sleep! That's a myth! Dragons are a myth! Myths are a myth. If you land that ship here I'm going to make you pay for parking by the minute. Alright. How much? Half a million. Deal. SUPACREE has officially and permanently hijacked Dillon Francis. Where is Dillon Francis? I told you it was cold up here. Don't look at me! Oh what's wrong EVERYTHING. Whats going to happen here? Anything that can. No no! Do t touch it! It's a Tesla! What?! Last year I saw you take a baseball bat to a fucking Beamer! It was Boston! ?! They love baseball Watch this: Satan. I told you— —I wasn't listening. I can be anywhere you are. The US Bank building was indeed high enough to kill you from jumping off of it; I couldn't stop thinking about it, as I stood by the base of it, actually across the street at the library, which I for some reason, had somehow considered as my own. -TAZER- Oh shit. Oh shit. -TAZER- -TAZER- -TAZER- —WOOOOOOOOOO!!! YOU'RE SICK. I love it! One more! WHAT! ONE MORE. (This part is important.) HIT ME BABY, one more time! BRITTNEY SPEARS Hey, shut the fuck up, okay—my kids watch this show! WOOOOOOOOOO. This is nuts. This is out of control. That's a lot of— —Lazers! —Cough syrup. Oh, yeah it is. Wish. what?! Already?! Whats your first wish?! I'm not done yet You have to be— There's a limit?! WISH. OKay, OKAY!! I wish— Oh shit, here she goes. Hide! Ugh! Noorotic, Redman NEW DJ UNLOCKED/ Q-Beet “Q-BEET IS GOD. “ Ok. I had just that very morning imagined myself quitting my shitty job, trading in my business professional clothes for something, anything else—and just finally, once again—being Sunnï Blū. In pondering, looking over my polished and professional appearance, in a collared faux-pearl dress and DKNY boots I actually liked…but it didn't at all feel like me. And while Sunnï Blū also wasn't me, and merely just a character I had created and ended up quite by accident somehow method acting by solid definition—it was still an entirely more enthralling existence, as the character I had created had indeed come into a life of its own and become nothing at all of how I had first imagined, but somehow even better. ‘What would Sunnï Blū even wear?' I had asked myself, probably even too loudly, so much so that the universe with full-throttle intention did respond, in an excitingly timely manner. EXT. WHERE MONSTERS DREAM, DTLA. DAY Oh I love this part. GOOGLE ‘What does Sunnï Blū Wear?' oh my god. what is this. i love it. #lilbitz LA is some shit. Some people in LA are too rich. You're so rich, I can't look at you. You're so rich, you make my eyes hurt. What are you even wearing? lacoste-too-much. Durh. EXT. DTLA FASHION DISTRICT. DAY ‘Can you believe Porter Robinson invented trance? I thought almost too deeply about it for a moment, trying to understand where in my own multidimensionality I was, or where he was, in the grand scheme of things. POOOR-TER ROBINSON. POOR-TER ROBINSON. -lil B. Yes, actually, I do believe that. I could believe that. I invented trance! Uh huh. I am I! Oh shit. I am Porter Robinson. PORTER ROBINSON. Check out my band: Porter and the Robinsons. Yessir. Anywho. The smell of eucalyptus filled my nostrils; someone behind me was annointing themselves with the oil and it sparked up a fire in my brain; I had been trying to become a member of Equinox fitness for years, and had almost always fallen short just in funding, and though something was telling me I would be coming into some sort of money somehow, I was again falling short—it was almost impossible for me to arrive anywhere on time anywhere I didn't want to be; and I didn't like my new job as much as I thought I needed it… Sonny Moore died of a broken heat; I survived him, but I never was the same. That was they day my eyes had turned go hazel— Now comes the day my eyes will fade to grey My eyes will fade to grey. ‘Ugh.' Rooms>< anything I was almost certain at one point or another that— Fuck this—there's a glitch in the matrix! (I thought this was an article on the secret love affair between Allison Wonderland and Dillon Francis!) ((That's not a secret!)) This is impossible. What am I looking at. (Yes, please try to explain to yourself how this is happening.) (this isn't happeninG.) THIS ISNT REAL —-MWJAY TJE FJCU—- WHAT THE FUCK AM I LOOKING AT (Hush, please, before you send up a sign.) There's a signal. Let's go. Let's go?' Where?! To the planet. To which—planet?! The one with the: ‘—THIS ISN'T HAPPENING— ‘ (now you've done it.) You really sold you soul for this? What'd you sell yours for? Same as you, I guess. x__x God is in the shadows, And yet I rise above, Just to illuminate the picturesque, The life that all of us have left to share To live To love To love one another To love one another I judge not a mother, Nor pity a father; I honor them Once and for all, One becomes of us Not then, or after— Now, Right where we are, Under the stars, Or drawing them; A wish becomes a prayer to God Until you are one Lost wanderers talk in tongues Lost wanderers talk in tongues Lost wanderers talk in tongues, The prophets (Of The profits) All will fall or none All is fair in love, But one must fall, First I smell winter in the air. ‘It has to be a dummy company' , I thought. ‘A front for something. ‘ If I was being set up to fail, there were some broad strikes being taken—but still, I wasn't all the way fooled; something seemed off, and If at the very least I was watching my dreams shatter around me, at least I was doing it in Los Angeles against the backdrop of this historic LA skyline on this iconic coastal Mecca, rather than Vegas's dry and unforgiving desert, which for the most part was also littered with homeless, mentally Ill and unbathed Inhabitants—however, strange and bizzare as it seemed, it was as if Los Angeles had less of them. I sat out in on the Whole Foods patio at 8th and grand, which I had never done and somehow also remembered doing, and though temping, the skinny black girl who stopped herself in front of me just to take a sip of her kombucha wouldn't persuade me to start doingso; in fact, I was in a tailspin—very much so in a panic, such that I was actually eating midday, rather than the end of it. The job I had just started seemed a sham, and though there had initially been something that excited me about it, after being late my first day, I almost believed myself to be in a realm where I was doomed to fail, or stuck in a loop as I had been all the rest of my life; then l, it could have been the fact that I was carrying documents with my old name on them—which I had theorized allowed whoever such was practicing black magic against that name to continue doing so successfully. The passport office had apparently ‘made an error' with my documents, and so had delayed me at least by a day or two from completely shedding any remnince of her, to which I would to happy to forget entirely, and—though somewhere in the pit of my heart that I could no longer speak to anyone from my last, pretending for the time being that it didn't exist and was safer; it had to have been narrowed down to two perpetrators for the dark and awful magic that was being used against me, always there but less present when actually dealing with her belongings, family, or friends—and while it may have been her ex husband who forced her to suicide, it may well have been coughs, the photographer for no other reason than love and love alone, in any facet. A fit man with an attractive tattoo seated himself in front of me; I could tell he was attractive, and thought it best to keep him headless rightly so. Today, all the white girls were evil again, but really they always were, and it was me who just cared to notice them—they just needed attention, and didn't seem to do much other than try to get it—not that they had to try. I had learned that I didn't hate them—however, that we lived in different worlds. They couldn't understand me, or find me as attractive as they thought themselves, and their Caucasian male counterparts were trained for the most part not to find African American features as beautiful, scientifically, I had learned. And, while my heart was forgiving, my soul still crept up just to wince at every reflection of ‘ugly' anyone I might have thought to be attractive thought that I was. Sonny Moore is like candy.. …I really want it, but it's definitely not good for me. Good, go on. lol I do have a sweet tooth. Eugh! So then, what does that make Dillon Francis. MEAT. Ew, gross. …I could eat it, but I probably wouldn't feel very good afterwards. Daww. All I need is a DAW And a Dog; And a friend, And a hug, And a car, And a bed— And you out of my head Cause I gotta get I gotta get I gotta get it all on my own, you know And I gotta get out of here But I owe you for something I know it I'll take out a loan In the morning Slowly but surely, Slowly but surely Slowly but surely I'm waking up Run just to run (Gotta run, gotta hide) I'm picking you up (I'm picking you up at 9) Probably shouldn't be driving Probably shouldn't be driving On all this wine; Took my first sip When I saw you weren't mine, but now I'm Picking you up Picking you up at 9 All I need is your arms, And some love, Some songs, And a hug And a road, And a room to go to with you, PAUSE oh shit. I never seen tiesto before. What? Why not?! Cause fuck tiesto. Anyways “Happy birthday tiesto!!!!” Wait, is that his name?! Yeah that's his name! Like his actual name?! I don't know! What the Fuck! Might be worth knowing. I doubt that. His wife is younger than me! Well, good news is, you're getting older. Okay— Wow! This song IS red! Red music for the win. Red music is balls! What! She's from another realm. — MA. What, Jeff. It's excision. What did you say? My name's excision. Sure it is. Ma. What, Jeff. I made a new song. Of course you did. Wanna hear it? Not before breakfast. But it's past noon. So it is— Can I play it? No. What. Why not. I still haven't had breakfast. FAST FORWARD. NO. UNH. Oh, GOD. What? Don't look at me… No Exsision on an empty stomach. Okay. I SAID— SUPACREE Oh, I get it. This shit smacks. ///UNH. Literally, sometimes— Owie… But you know what? I had a good run. Okay. When do we get the rest of the DJs? Huh? Okay, who wants in? *literally nobody raises a hand* Okay, I'll go. Are you serious? Serious as a heart attack. THAT'S how you got in? Heart attacks are a sure-bet! But no! Well then, what happened? Someone broke his heart. Aw, shit. DONT LOOK AT ME. Aw, fucksauce. Nice Nikes. Wanna fight me? Do you like me? I'll give you a black eye; Yikes Three stripes me, I'm a zebra, no white, see? Psyche — #lilbitz I love LA. Sometimes I can't tell if people are wearing costumes or if that's like—their—themselves. Like their true selves. I can't tell. And it's okay. It's really okay. Cause sometimes I look at myself in the mirror, and I'm like— Fuck. Who is this guy? Yeah. Or I just laugh I'm like *laughs* “You idiot” But it's whatever! That's my true self. Sometimes. Whatever. Maybe I am in costume! I don't know. Sometimes, I think I'm in a movie Sometimes, people come up and tell me I'm in a movie. I'm like “oh no! Whose the main character” Lol. “I better get out of their way!” Haha or I'm like, “Yeah, I'm definitely the villain; get the fuck away from me.” But no. I love LA. I'm at the gym— I saw this dude in faded blue jeans, a jersey, some socks, and some Nike slides. I'm like yeah, I'm home. I'm home. Then I go to get a second look at him and he's got rhinestone facial piercings, I'm like. “Yup.” Fuck. I love LA. And they were oddly placed, at that. He had like, his eye wrinkles and second-dimples pierced Like—who has two sets of dimples, anyway?! LA people. Bet. — ALRIGHT DEADMAU5—TAKE IT AWAY. What? No literally. Take away all the deadmau5. What, you can't do that! But I can. — I love deadmau5. Beepbeepboop. Probably more than I should. Beepbeepboop. Way more than I should. Beepbeepboop. Beepboop. — Yo. Yo. Whatever happened to Pasquale? ? What happened to Pasquale? ? What even originally happened to Pasquale? Let's find out. —NO—NOT THE TIME MACHINE AGAIN. Relax. I WILL NOT RELAX. Relaaaaaax… I WILL NOT RELA— —AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH. Ducks. What the— I told you. DONT DUCK WITH TIME — The thing I knew about Sonny was, I was never going to run into him in public; he was too famous, and too recognizable—and so I didn't have to worry—though, he was always in my mind somewhere, if not in the corner of my eye or somewhere over my shoulder—something like a dry cough that never went away. Might as well have been. — have you ever heard of a blood oath?! No—because they're secret. Turns out that building with my emblem on top is the Los Angeles public library. What a coincidence! No it isn't. I was being facetious. Wow. That should be a spelling bee word. I'm sure it has been. — I got my back up against the wall Why'd I fall for you? We got al the same problems Lack of endorphins, The wrong—a lot of things Maybe nothings wrong with God, after all Fuck, gotta love androgyny. . . . This just got weird. Like it wasn't weird before? No, it's really weird now. WHt is this!! Oh my god! WHAT IS THIS. I don't know. HOW'D THEY DO THIS? Who is “they”? WHOOOIII DID THIS?! Ruffle your feathers a bit? EXT. SOMETHING POETIC. NIGHT for fuck's sake. ffs. Fuck.