INTERMISSION.

Thefestivalproject.com Instagram @bluw0rld.tv @codename.Blū Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/artist/3U2n4bcU9peQd2GlKLUsvv?si=sNDgsK3QSgOJcZt5r2XLEQ Spotify (RAP) https://open.spotify.com/artist/2VwxTlBwq6yrZeQzXKxObR?si=iucAXbASSKOk8umIc5qRGA Mixcloud https://m.mixcloud.com/codenameblu/ ENTER THE MULTIVERSE https://www.podserve.fm/series/website/enter-the-multiverse,4609/ What do you feel like watching?' Nothing, really. Something feels wrong in my heart, in my soul. I don't feel good at all. I haven't felt this way in a long time, But homeless always brings it on I don't want to travel; I'm panicking— There's nothing left in my own home country but greed, corruption and poverty. And I, alone, passing no judgements and taking no blame ugh . I was hungry. these are really good. they're vegan. I know. Now I'm in God's hands. They really are trying to kill me. Who is “they” Oh right, i'm “schizophrenic” Maybe you are . Doesn't really matter what I am. All I wanted was to be loved. It starts with the mother. She doesn't love me. What about yours? I was told he didn't need me; Didn't ask about me. Didn't even care. The only thing keeping me from flying off the Brooklyn Bridge was imagining what worse place I might go after this; Actually, there were two–upon investigating my options, sitting in a heap with nearly everything I owned at JFK, I had discovered that interestingly enough, enough jumpers had survived that it was notable, and so, knowing myself, I decided it wouldn't be worth it – I would more than likely survive, especially with all the overtime houris I had clocked in at Equinox, in my mind at least a semi-responsible party in the dwindling down of time that had occurred between first visiting the Hudson Yards Equinox, where I was informed my Destination membership did not deem me worthy for entry–No; Despite what I had been told, there was an even higher, even more expensive membership\; and in order to be allowed into the location at which I was currently standing, I would have to pay a $35 Fee. “It's just two hours”, I said, happily carrying about going towards the Sports Club location, which was a 20-or-so minute venture in the direction from which I had just come, which didn't seem to bother me, considering I had stored my luggage at The Millenium in Times Square; and though t was directly cutting into my workout time, I had calculated that I would make it to the airport right on time. The US had lured me back into its Godless, merciless claws, and I had yet to escape, My music equipment had now been sold, my bridges burned, and I had spent nearly the better pat of the year in my placement in low-tier corporate slavery, still homeless and with nowhere else to run–the american nightmare still in full effect, and I wanted nothing more than to blow my fucking head off. “Fuck this shit.” Some had been thrown in to my face one too many times, interrupting my almost jovial viewing of The Golden Girls, three of whom I had noticed had blue eyes, besides Bea Arthur, of course, whose shiny browns gave me hope for the world– maybe even without me in it. Either way–and though she, too, had brown eyes and sort of almost looked like Barbra Streisand, who I adored, it was irritating, especially on this day. I had realized that my time would have to come soon, in a hostile world, people programmed by their phones, and being constantly attacked. There was no peace, there was no love–and long-lost from LA there was no hope. There was no knight in shining armor, no light at the end of the tunnel, no long lost love, and no happy endings. Just privileged white people running and ruining everything, and not ever around to see what had become of the world they had left behind – or had never been, or never even thought of– as so many of the rich had been born rich, that the rest of the world didn't exist to them. We lived in an impossible world, and the most possible thing that had ever been— love,-- had perished from us all, eaten by greed, capitalism, and whatever else America was made of; A stolen land that keeps on stealing. It had been long since I had ever thought myself to be lovable at all; In fact, I now knew i would never be loved again. Some evil and awful curse had been set on my soul – a mere illusion that it would ever break dangled ever so slightly over my head, just so that I may continue to exist; probably so that could die more slowly and painfully; my life had turned into a dark, cruel, and pitiful realm; a sadists dream; and now there was no doubt in my mind that White Power continued to reign supreme just so that I and anyone else classified as such as decrepit thing as colored would die a slow miserable and loveless death, slaving away at freedom never to be found. Damn, You ARE fucked up. It's cold outside. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.