ADDLand.

“Dad Likes Blondes” I must have dropped Joel's stone somewhere in a Columbus Circle, or near Lincoln Center—not that it made any difference—Manhattan was Manhattan, and it was as if all of midtown had something to offer from my everlasting past-present-future, which seemed to crossover from one life to the next, between deaths and all the strange arrangements of interwoven time that happened in between, these instances drawing me to people, places and things I needed to know or see, something like a dream, but with remnices of reality—on this particular day the pain in my ankle from an ear get overworking just the day before—but I was relentless in my quest for the perfect body—or at least, a body that could be truly loved by a proper man, within proper time— of course— I was running out of time in the biological sense. He was my favorite luminaire— a secret I kept even far from myself, as not to develop any attraction towards another man in another realm so far away, in some sort of fantasy that was so far fetched that it would only add to the chaotic and hellish existence I had seemingly always been trapped in. He was, without saying too smart and had awful habits—of course, to me, all the more attractive, in my somewhat adolescent sense that I liked them ‘bad', but I at least kept my own bad habits at bay in some sort of way — marking him as a master in my own inherent apprenciship; he had obtained knowledge and practice that I hadn't, and therefore was of course a defacto target in my edveador to understand this unmasked land— it had become more than a passion… —Tales of A Superstar DJ Lemon zest, the rush The call of your name, for a run The taste of your fingertips, The brush of lust against the trees Again, I call for you I'm better off alone… Oh, I'm better off alone. I'm better off alone, Oh, I'm better off alone Just Leave Me The only thing here Is the kick getting through I couldn't care anymore if I tried I couldn't give a fuck if I wanted to Just one more look at you, I can't hold a candle! No more worries, And no more tear jerkers (and No more hopeful romance, For the ages) No turning pages, For pageants or princesses Fit the agenda! We're all steady aging, Say, Sallie Mae How many more payments I'm just a slave, It's just unpaid wages A careful equivalent No remorse or repent I'm still soft and sacred No regrets, I'm so Shameless Say, Sallie Mae How many more payments? Say, Sallie Mae How many more payments? A new writer's strike But i'm still on a slaveship Here's a soft punch: Only kicks getting through here I don't want to know, How you even got through here To do this Hey, Sallie Mae How many more payments? Hey, Sallie Mae How many more payments Hey, Sallie Mae Hey Sallie Mae Hey Sallie Mae I hate this. *gunshot* “Come for Supper,” {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.