Episodios

  • IFeel.

    IFeel.
    May 2 2025

    Enter The Multiverse}

    [The Festival Project ™]

    Fonts get into into it

    Quinta Brunson

    In the box

    Or is your frontin

    He said,

    “I want to hurt you”

    Did you?

    Did you?

    I want to hold you,

    Dissolve you

    Completely disarm you—

    Did you—

    Did you?

    I don't want to feed you to the wolves

    But I absolutely will

    I absolutely will if I have to

    “I wanted to hurt you.”

    Said,

    Did you?

    Did you?

    I wanted to hold you.

    Did you?

    Did you?

    I don't want to harm you;

    Completely disarm you

    Did you?

    Did you?

    A complete totality.

    A complete fatal—

    Did you ask me?

    For what, I wonder

    I was nobody at all

    I'm no one

    I don't want to feed you to the wolves

    But I absolutely will if I have to.

    Problem solved.

    (I Wonder.)

    Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ |

    Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved.

    -Ū.
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    8 m
  • YAYAYA.

    YAYAYA.
    May 2 2025

    Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ |

    Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved.

    -Ū.
    Más Menos
    4 m
  • Boys, And Boys, And Boys.

    Boys, And Boys, And Boys.
    May 2 2025

    For Tinky.

    lyircs and composition by C'cxell Soleïl

    Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ |

    Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved.

    -Ū.

    Excuse the tears
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    7 m
  • [The Unknown.]

    [The Unknown.]
    May 2 2025
    Had no idea I was recording but here's what I got after like 6 minutes of my stomach gurgling and some extremely uncomfortable shallow breathing. Somebody should tell her. Can you walk my dog Before we fuck? My girl's not home. Wanna walk my dog. My neighbor is cheating on his girl but that's not my business. YOU LET HER WALK OUR DOG!!!? BEFORE: V.O. That's not my neighbor… [an evil blonde girl with blue eyes smiles maliciously as she exits the building walking a small black dog] …But that's their dog. LATER THAT NIGHT. V.O. I heard them fucking through the paper thin walls of the apartment. That is definitely not my neighbor. …somebody should tell her. YOU LET HER WALK OUR DOG?! That is not my business. Gee, God, I thought you'd never show up. [ensues Horrible guitar playing with acrylic nails] Self You never employ these two fingers. Also Self Cause they don't work. Try medicating that. They would try! (No thanks, I'll do it myself.) Dumb twat. I don't want to call people that… Thats's just what I am. Yo. Somebody tell her! Somebody tell her! …that's not my business. Maybe she already know. Cabinet slamming is a nasty business! YOU LET THAT BITCH WALK OUR DOOOOOG?! Yo, fuck that dog. Ugly ass chihuahua. [ensues more bad guitar playing with acrylic nails.] [basic ass surf music and some suspicious ass licks] [atrocious traffic noise] Jack went down the rabbit hole Jill came back and asked for more Then she saw that Jack was gone [over all] After all she all, She carried on After all, she carried on After all she carried on After all she carried on. Heheheh. [ghetto people yelling in the street like animals] Jack flew down the wishing well… [car honking that always honks whenever I try to make music and start succeeding (but never actually leaves the lot.)] What happened first? Uh. Jack went down the rabbit hole. Yeah. And then? Auh— [nothing], Jill didn't follow him. She just carried on. Jack flew down the wishing well. [the traffic pics up; the ghetto people start acting a fool. Yes. My windows are closed. My focus is broken by the noise.] Crème filling! Nothing but— crème filling! Oh! I want a croissant. A wonderful croissant with butter And Crème filling. A wonderful croissant With butter! And crème filling especially when— —rare! Especially when! Crème filling. Crème filling. A croissant. What kind of croissant. A delicious croissant. With— butter! —and A — special— No— Delicious— With— Butter And Crème filling. A— Delicious croissant With butter And Crème Filling Where are we from? Obviously this place is hell. Why am I here Why am I here Why am I here A… Fabulous croissant. [mind you, I've still no idea I'm recording. ] V.O. actually, I was assuming I wasn't. Monologue/ talk with God [The noise picks up and I get up to record the evidence that my right to peace and quiet enjoyment of my property have been violated severely— then I realize I've been recording the whole time.[ Oh shit. (Well, there's your answer.) I didn't know I was recording. Well, thats's how this all started. And I guess, how it ends. It's true, I started the series by accident when in my homeless despair, my talking to God out loud began being recorded by my iPhone just turning itself on and recording at random. In this instance, I had probably started the recording for the motorcycles and forgotten about it, but having been sick for days from the motorcycles and noise to no avail, I had begun to exhibit symptoms of extreme stress much akin to the homelessness in which the series started; erratic behaviors such as speaking freely out loud without the intention of being heard— and yet being heard anyway. I wasn't happy in New York, and I still felt homeless. The insanity might have been trademark New York, but it wasn't trademark me. I counted my blessings and all of my change; I knew I would have to leave for my own health, but I didn't know how—and returning to the streets was not an option. I was done playing the victim, and done complaining— my stomach churning with indigestion and my head gnawing with the congestion of a two year long head cold. Something needed to change, and rapidly— New York was turning against my mind, and my mind was turning against my body. This was no game— it was somebody's business. But to me, it was personal. This was my mind and my body being tampered with, and my soul remained at large. Something else entirely was begging to take over; whatever was attempting to destroy me had to be destroyed. Immidiately. This happy accident had to have been the end of the series— the show would come down soon and everything I had written with it. My life and my safety were at stake. I had nothing to ...
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    32 m
  • [closure.]

    [closure.]
    May 2 2025

    I represent the respectful west coast

    Dressed to reflect my deepest and innermost thoughts

    I just bought some time

    And a plot of land

    I just lost my mind

    But I found the promised lands

    Kick rocks and aim all your trash into waste baskets

    Instagram brats with fake stats and bad habits

    Awake but not woke

    Got cash but still broke

    Suffocating in a choke hold

    New York must think I'm New, too

    But I'm so old.

    Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ |

    Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved.

    -Ū.
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    1 h y 5 m
  • [Tears of A Clown.]

    [Tears of A Clown.]
    Apr 29 2025

    She stole my Rolex!

    Why were you wearing a Rolex!?

    … I wasn't.

    L E G E N D S



    You know I'm you, right?

    Prove it.

    What way.

    How many jellybeans are in this jar.



    406–

    [he sneakily drops one jellybean—]

    —407.

    Unremarkable bitch.

    I pulled the shows off the shelves faster than anyone else could get to them; I was being tortured in my own apartment— and for what reason, I was unsure— but I knew this: everything had to come down and out of the internet. Out of the cloud, and off the grid. Someone was attacking me, and I wasn't safe.

    This wasn't just some paranoid or schizophrenic rampage— someone had used technology to hack into my life and make it a living hell. And for what? I had become nearly not useful at all. I wasn't writing or creating like I used to, I wasn't working out. I was catatonic with depression— but it wasn't just some mental disorder or something happening in my mind— other humans— multiple humans, actually, were being used to suffocate me into nothingness. Snuffing out and squandering my creativity and filling me with panic, thoughts of doom— slamming doors on one end and raving engines on the other, my life had turned into a sonic nightmare.

    Furthermore, I had begun pulling down every instance of recorded history that had been part of the show; the pattern was remarkable. I had been chased around and tortured for years. This was more than just some rouse— this was a political tactic. Perhaps my once ambitions had been taken too seriously, but I was neither of any interest or threat. Those puppets were in their places and in all I didn't care what happened— unless it was directly to me or at me, which it often was. I stayed silent, knowing that everything was at risk. I was certainly being watched and listened to inside of and outside of my apartment and I realized that no matter how I tried to report or rationalize it with anyone else, it all made me sound crazy. Everyone and everything around was programmed to react as if the things were happening were not happening at all, or as if I was struggling with some sort of mental illness or delusions, but by now I was actually starting to struggle, because I had been tampered with an altered and tortured and sabotaged to the point of insanity— and there as no help, there was no one to run to. These were military tactics and strategies of war— anyone I could try to tell was being controlled by the entity that was conducting the system of control. The neighbor girl, the traffic sounds, the property management; it was no curse! It was a system designed to drive me crazy in order to limit my functionality and credibility in case I actually did decide to pursue politics.

    But I was far from it, and closer to actually disappearing than ever because in a certain respect, I kind of could if I wanted.

    What I tell you?

    I'm not stupid.

    I got trackers.

    Fucking crackers.

    What I tell you?

    I got hacked.

    What I tell you?

    It's a trap.

    Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ |

    Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved.

    -Ū.
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    10 m
  • Transcendental Edifice. [Mirrors]

    Transcendental Edifice. [Mirrors]
    Apr 27 2025

    Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ | Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019 ™ All Rights Reserved.

    -Ū.
    Más Menos
    10 m
  • LVL: BOONE.

    LVL: BOONE.
    Apr 27 2025

    Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ | Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019 ™ All Rights Reserved.

    -Ū.
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    7 m
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