-complications. -Ū.

I catch songs like butterflies What? What did you want from me? I'm not even from this city; It's just in me Should just end me Warm winds, As I drift down the bridge Almost envious of my Previous intentions with it There's a cradle there, Nestled between the alley, And and walkway Though you'd hate to admit it Just gotta go with it Roll with the punches, You'll love it What about perfect? What about a pair of au-pair (sp?) In Paris with pears on the stairs, Just glaring at each other The dash bus pulls away from olive and 7th eyren in downtown Los Angeles, Blū (CC) just rounding the corner on her skateboard from across the intersection. Well, I guess I have some writing to do. My eyes stares straight forward into an abyss, and though my face was looking at the Perla Hotel, my mind was in another place; everything seemed okay, at least for the moment, and though I hadn't eaten in days I couldn't say that I was hungry, really; but I did need something to keep calm, and probably shouldn't have been fasting at all, though I found it to be strange that though I had tried to eat, even on thanksgiving, I couldn't; I had even selected some homey American favorites from the vegan selection at Whole Foods; and, startlingly with no relation to the massive crowds and lines on the day before thanksgiving— I couldn't bring myself to purchase anything besides water, which had for the most part been keeping me alive for going on two weeks, not that I required anything to give a Fuxk about that required eating, or chewing and swallowing, or processing any sort of literal digestion, though the figurative digestions of the city itself had seemed itself enough to feed on, with reckless abandonment to any intentions besides staying safe and warm in a clean and calm place, which I had been for at least a couple nights, coughing up almost literally close to $60 a night for an almost decent sleep. Atlas, artbat Los Ángeles astounded me with its quick and sensible transit system— busses were either early on time, or ran so frequently that it didn't matter which bus or train I did catch, I was almost always on time, given the occasional lollygagging I would do, or portraiture I would find relating to The Festival Project; indeed, Los Angeles had given me a new canvas—however I was distracted by my insurmountable expenses, and current lack of income—and though I had been offered a job DJing on a rooftop bar in Downtown LA, which sounded boutique—I needed more bookings to really move forward, wherever forward was—and I needed the resources to keep my body and mind intact to find them. It all became a balance of needs and expectations, so fast that sometimes I couldn't bear the recollection of how I had become this, automatically functional semi-decent human being. I needed once and for all to learn how to be calm around a man—or men, at all; there was a sense creeping up within me that nearly couldn't be calmed at all in the présence of one—let alone one I was at all physically attracted to really, would would have required the prerequisite of having seen his face, and especially his eyes—and that was almost nearly impossible that is, catching a glance at my eyes, as I predominately looked at the ground, unless I didn't need to or was certain I wouldn't see or feel anything too overstimulating; this time around I felt at home but no need to be there; Los Angeles speed, which I was capable of, was simply too fast for my current train of thought; I wanted to be dead, of course, more than alive—and rich, of course, rather than poor—and one of those two things would have to happen to anything to make anymore sense than it did—as I felt I had been called to LA simply to be put to rest. I only had 5 days left at Equinox before the cut-off, and no foreseeable way to pay them anytime immediately, besides perhaps taking a DJ gig or two that would pay out in cash and well enough to cover the fee-of course— The ost expensive plan, as I had attempted a manifestation at all, imagining i wouldn't yet be in Los Angeles, planning to put my membership on freeze through December to January, still working at Deaert in Vegas—but, after the not so infathomable fallout with Brandon and family, I was forced to abondon my actual plan which included almost no risks and full, boring, comprehensive adult responsibility—now I was in it for the taking, at full force and without much of a Fuxk to give besides a roof over my head, and keeping my immaculate fitness intact; which also meant double-downs at both locations over the next 5 days; if I could steam, sauna, and protein Fast my way into a more comfortable dimension of reality by the first—I just might be able to keep myself off that bridge off 5th street I had been eying, as I had missed my dash stop twice and been made to walk down the too-steep hill to skate down; I of course did want to attempt the less steep plunge down my route to my “neighborhood” as it had come to be— but hadn't yet been able to safeleh cruise more than half of the way down on my Carver, which was still sturdy even after all this time and all these places, but did need some maintenance and TLC that I couldn't quite afford, only comforted by the other boarders out and about and their worn, tired boards, which of of course were comfortable and broken in enough to still ride as if tip-top. Maintaining any vehicle seemed to be the most expensive human effort, body included—and mine had become extremely sensitive, not to mention entirely expensive to maintain. Now, I was a hardcore vegan; I hadn't had honey or butter, or cheese beyond a year—and not that I missed it, in fact, just looking at food at all gave me some kind of thrill or joy— but the thrill or joy that came with the thought of love at all, as the result of a body which had been built to preform at peak, having evolved itself from an extreme obesity was of a slightly greater pleasure. Should I cancel Gerald's world? (Tongue in cheek: I *could* cancel Gerald's world) You should. Jesus. This show is still on?! What is it? It's Geral's World! Oh my god! Just cancel it!! Renewed again! C'mon!!! Even the writers of this show want this show cancéleled. This is insane. Good morning, Susan. Shut the Fuck up. Good morning, Kanye. Shut the fuck up. KANYE WEST is a serious m*thafuxr. What is this. Enter the multiverse. KANYE WEST is the Executive Producer of an Emmy winning TV series. It has just been renewed for its 5th season. SEASON 6 IS GREENLIT. NO. NO. …Beyoncé? I don't know about this one. This is a— {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2022 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.