[I Love LA.]

Hey, Do you suppose you know the code For doors that open up; I walk a lonely road, But Frog and Toad are old And told me you'd be there to show me (Whatever) Woah Where am I supposed to go from here I'm nowhere, dear I'm Alice lost in wonderland And all her friends— Even the one in red Who wants her head (Where'd that come from) Yo! It's a real bad acid trip, I can't get a grip on reality Can't get off the grid at random, If you're being tracked By the feds and fandom Woah. I may be one of the greatest writers in history But will you remember me? My ex gets Under my skin with Champion fashion; It's in bad taste But I haven't had my own bathroom In half a millennium Im under persenium arches Sniffing cristanthimymums sampling Arsenio Hall Are you ip yet? I'm still enthralled with this story But yo! (Where's Unaavvi at) I haven't been to a show (Where's the party at) I should be gripping a pole (Where is Cardi at) But it takes all day to get back to the Bronx in the snow! Fuck New York when it's cold And it's always cold in New York When you don't know nobody And your only hobby is hobbling around in the hotel lobby Counting the robbers and gobblins A D Whitney's and Bobby's The ghosts and the zombies Everything hurts But everything heals, with time// Whatever that is; And whatever that means, It's means to an end, if you let it be So let it be But, it persists in lettering me; He becomes me in my sleep, In dreams I think I really need him, or something Or anyone, or anybody Anything, or something Anybody, anybody Excerpt From: “DJ AND CC TAKE HOLLYWOOD” Wait, CC—you're a sex addict?! I'm an everything addict! You know this! I didn't know! —Except pills; I hate pills. What? I've seen you take pills before. Case in point! Why didn't you just tell me? It doesn't exactly come up organically in conversation, Dillon. What?! We talk about sex all the time. Like, in general—but not fórreal! What the fuck! What the fuck?! Whats the difference?! If you have to ask, I feel like you're really not gonna like the answer, dog. — “WorstConversationEver” (Bong rips) Remember your dad's friend Tom? Oh my God. You fucked Tom?! NO! okay, cause— I sucked his dick while I pretended to mow the lawn! What the hell?! —and he still paid me. Whatthefuck. Yeah, fucked up. So who mowed the lawn?! He mowed his own lawn! This is the worst conversation ever. The crazy thing about this story is— There's a lot of crazy things about this story, actually. EXT. BASKETBALL COURT. DAY. Alright— shirts and skins —Shirt—Skin Shirt,Skin— Uhh! Nah. I wanna be “shirts” Why dude?! Your girl's mad hot! So?! So I know you got it goin on! Look at you! I'm mad rich! Yeah—but girls always cheat on flabby rich dudes! With hotter dudes. My girlfriend might be cheating on me! Yeah—She's not, though. How do you know? Cause I tried! Yeah. Take your shirt off. No—uh! How do you know she's just not into you! Because! He tried— HE tried! You sell out. And Andre tried— [ANDRE is tall (about 6'9 dark, and handsome] —you too, bro? [ANDRE shrugs nonchalantly] That's an NBA player— What the FUCK, YO. —and she said NO. ANDRE Yup. Shot me down. Oh really—from all the way up there?! Face it, man! You're fuckin hot! I don't like the way that sounds coming from you— Take your shirt off! Were you this aggressive with my girl?! Don't be like that… Nah— fuck you! Yo! C'mon, man— And you three! You're holding up the game getting mad over nothing. It's Hollywood! It's Beverly Hills! —Exactly my point! You're new here—you'll catch on. You know what! I'm shirts—you're skins—Game on. [SUNNI BLU goes beast mode and plays the dirtiest, most whoopass game in history—out of spite and anger of the toxic masculinity; this of course earns SUNNI BLU even more respect as a “man's man”] Later: as the owner of the clippers, sunni BLU trades “Andre” to the worst basketball team in history. SUPACREE buys DIPLO a glass house to replace the one he burned down in a crime of passion.] There, now, you'll stop throwing stones— Huh! AND. Everyone can see when you ugly cry. *humphs* Now, stop it! Is it supacree? Uh? Could be Sunni Blu. Sunni Blu is a dude— Sunni Blu is pretending to be a dude. Oh yeah, huh. Dang. Huh. Well, then. We've gotta consult The Big Book of Dillon Francis. Don't say that like it's some kind of guide book. It is a guidebook. To what?? To Dillon Francis! That's preposterous. Didn't you choose Sonny? Didn't I waste my time writing the great big book of Dillon Francis!? Touché. Might as well do something with it. I got it. THIS IS ENVIRONMENTALLY IRRESPONSIBLE. BURN IT ALL. You're gonna hurt someone's feelings. Yeah, my own. STOP TOUCHING THAT. Wait, where is— Fuck. What? Now I'm “that girl who fell in love with Skrillex” Lol, which one. Hum. The one who wrote a novel about it. Pick your poison. Rum. Not a rum and coke? No, just straight up—you know what? How much is the bottle? Uhhh. Just. [SUPACREE pours the remains of the bottle into a red solo cup.] Ugh. Come on. What! At least you're not “The Black Yoko Ono” How did you even find out about that one. Infinite what the fucks. Now the world's getting mad again, I wrote something damaging; Doors just start slamming at random, And coughing— Sounds of motorists passing, Just scrambling my brain, I'm insane, but at least I have plainly created What may be historical, one day— I've made a whole masterpiece, a symphony that easily outlives me, infinity— My body's just a body Rush a cop just got get off this awful planet; I don't want what comes with poverty and fat, I don't compete with Instagram models, And everyone does that— I'm not a catfish, facts are facts I use my camera just to document the interesting phenomena I happen to walk past; Saw Dillon Francis on a wall, and had to grant the wish he asked— But don't know what it is exactly, I'm just happening, actually— I probably need nap but now Insomniac's been tracking me; I happily allow it; I program myself with beats, So when I finally sleep, I dream in music sequences, or something— I don't know I might delete it upon listening to rampant white supremacy or privelege on repeat, But that's just me, Forgetting I'm the one in trouble, On the run, without a family So perception is reality, and mine is badly damaged— Damn Pasquale again, I had to re-decipher all the messages transmitted from imaginary friends, Collecting images in infrared *gasp* Okay, just—breathe… I can't! I have to wear a mask! It's mandatory—so is being black, I have to! But I'm not a rapper! Maybe I should talk to Chance, Or Marshall Mathers: They might have to answer To the questions that I can't afford to ask This automatic writing might just be the most Goddamned advanced evidence of intelligent inhabitants in other dimensions, or other planets Or all of the above, Or maybe just of Dillon Francis using magic, Which he got from— Oh, no, here it comes SK— Fuck this. Fuck this mother—FAWN. Are we out of F*cks, then? I floppin' guess! I thought you loved him. It is what it is. What is it? INFI— THE END. INFINITI! ...yes, mom? GET IN HERE, Huh? Don't say “huh”. Okay, what? Don't say “what” … … … ...welll, what do you want? What is this? *shrugs* INFINITY [ooh, with a ‘Y' that's how you know mom's angry this time] *COUGHS* Betcha his photographer's in love with him. Which one has the VooDoo Doll? There's a Skrillex VooDoo Doll? It's technically ‘Sonny' Aww. You'd be surprised at the shit these girls will— INFINITY. WHAT. What is THIS?! It's just—Skrillex. AFH. Now you're FUCKED. I thought we were out of FUCKS. That was FAUX. Awww: I see what you did there. Am I done now? What does Dillon Francis want?! —don't answer that. [whispering in ear.] That's not possible So. I shifted a consciousness into this rock. Why would—why? For good luck. Oh, this is a problem, But it turns out. HUH. Damn. I'm on one, I have blue balls, This is not fun. This is not fun. This is not fun. Okay; now you're done. So, that's it--? You really want to ride this Sinking Ship? If that's what this is, then I guess that says it. Says…? Says “I just bought a ticket to Titanic at Bass Canyon.” Is that where you bought it? Is it? Why would you give yourself in, for him? (For Anyone?) In. (Psh) I gave myself out. Out? Look at you. Look at me. I'd rather not. You know what it is You know what it is— You know what it is That's the business Comin in hot, like a chicken wing This ain't Toy Story—got no friend in me, You feelin me? Cold as Minnesota, I'm the ice queen Nice bling— Hollywood should buy this bitch a wedding ring Amohetemime Trick, you're a half, I'm the whole thing Whole Foods market, gotta own me No mink coat, I'm a vegan, Hocus Pocus, I'm three witches Okay, from the top Hello? This is Hollywood calling; We want the festival project We just wrote up the contract Come get your deposit: You're nominated for an Oscar Your Star On The Walk looks Awesome it's On Us Yeah? That's what's up I'll come up I'll come up I'll come up Say what's up That's my shite; I'm rep in the festival project Ya'll like “what's that?” I'll tel you all about it,—that's Coming up next Oh yeah, Oh yeah Tune in I'm On Welcome to your Hollywood life The good life Good life Welcome to the Hollywood life That's right That's right Welcome to your Hollywood life The good life Good life Welcome to the Hollywood life That's right That's right They call me young Hollywood, They robbed me good in Santa Monica And I so I got no address yet; But I'm coming up like one direction I just checked my reflection like: Mirror mirror on the wall I gotta go Hollywood's callin And I don't do this often Only when o bless the red carpet Comin in hot, like a chicken wing Call me Toy Story— got a friend in me, You feelin me? On the big screen livin out my dreams, I wrote my scenes, the Hollywood life: I neee I ride by On a tomeline I write, I like My nice things. The life I lead, Is ritghteous, I defy my means Applied IT, I might be AI, Fine my me; Cause all I see Is light I like, And I'm liking my Hollywood life, I think. Nice bling— Hollywood should buy this bitch a wedding ring Amohetemime Trick, you're a half, I'm the whole thing Whole Foods market, gotta own me No mink coat, I'm a vegan, Hocus Pocus, I'm three witches It's just some Hollywood shit Isn't it fabulous This is some Hollywood shiy Isn't it fabulous Comin in hot, like a chicken wing This ain't Toy Story—got no friend in me, You feelin me? Cold as Minnesota, I'm the ice queen Nice bling— Hollywood should buy this bitch a wedding ring Amohetemime Trick, you're a half, I'm the whole thing Whole Foods market, gotta own me No mink coat, I'm a vegan, Hocus Pocus, I'm three witches You know what it is You know what it is— You know what it is That's the business One door close. Then another door opens So sick flow, go home with a cold then Woah, Hoe—cold like some snow boots Pants so big, I can parachute PARACHUTE! Hoes look fake, like a blow up doll Harlem shake, i'm bout to blow up ya'll SAM ASH. HOLLYWOOD, CALIFORNIA. DAY. Do you have any Jog Wheels? Beg your pardon? Uh, Jog Wheels. “Jog Wheels” Yeah, you know, like (imitates DJ scratching) Oh, you mean these? (Entire room of DJ controllers) Yeah, but just–this (points to Jog Wheel) Oh, “Jog Wheels…” Yes. Jog Wheels. …Just “Jog Wheels?” …yes. No. [Leaving store with frustrated infuriation] AGH. BEFORE: Oh my God! We've been robbed! WHAT! OH MY GOD! WHAT! WHAT'D THEY TAKE?! – Have you tried Guitar Center? THEY TOOK MY JOG WHEELS. Bitch you mad? Mad at what? I'm still making money; I don't give a fuck Get my bag; Count it up I'm a dog— And you know I like it rough (Ruff ruff ruff) Where you from? Where you hood at? Keep it clsssy But I'm acting like a hood rat I'm a playa I got boss racks Call me north Cause I'm pointed where the moss at (Money) I am from Los Angeles I got all these fans and stuff I smoke on dat tangle I be at PINK buying bras n stuff I still shop at hollister The Bronx ain't got no Rosses Or hot topics But I bought this floss To drop it like a thot n stuff Bitch you mad? Mad at what? I'm still making money; I don't give a fuck Get my bag; Count it up I'm a dog— And you know I like it rough (Ruff ruff ruff) I show up Play some ratchet music I show up Play some ratchet music. In the booth I'm eating waffles. Had to force quit my serato Key: F It's such a wonderful feeling– leaving, release, sweet relief, Slowly bleeding out Dreaming, in peace With no reason to grieve–finallly– Freedom Mm-hmm mm-hmm Mmm-hmmm __ I'm so LA for no reason. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.