JIMMY KIMMEL uses his newfound ability to time shift (not time travel, persay, but to alter many parallels of a given time) to undo joining a college fraternity.
Also in the present nothing appears altered. This invisibly and almost even silently skews several multidimensional parallels into disarray.
Unknowing st all of this, he seems content with his decision.
Then again, he always seems sort of...
JIMMY KIMMEL is quietly enjoying his fishing trip.
Basking in the wonderful allone ness of solitude and silence, he uncaps a bottle of [insert product placement here] and takes a very hearty swig, letting out a super contended sigh.
…content.
It is a pictures and perfect day; however, something seems off; just then, as he admires his first catch, hanging from the line over the bow, a GIANT SHARK appears out of the water, snapping up his catch and retreating into the abyss with a thunderous SPLASH. Dripping with dismay (and lots of water) JIMMY KIMMEL explodes with an equally thunderous rage.
WHAT THE FUCK!
He teeters, sopping wet to the edge of the boat, peering momentarily into the rippling water before he realizes it may not be safe, and in the same glimpse from the side of his squinted unrelentlessly still glistening eyes, realizes that this shark has knocked over and spilled his entire bottle of [insert product placement here]
He confusedly and exasperatedly cries out and upward into the skies—
THIS IS A LAKE!!!
Just a note to remember that I finally perfected my recipe for the absolute best vegan breakfast burrito just previously to writing this.
It was delicious.
Yes, it was.
I—
Oh, my god!
Parallels, remember!
No!
(Suddenly eating a burrito)
Your memory sucks!
It has to.
Isn't it all in the culture?
I don't know what you're all on about
Turned it all on, now i'm off, man
Turned it all off, but I laid here for it–
Tuned it around,
And I payed her for it!
How's
That
Now
For an awful apocalypse
All on the top of the grant
And the ground
And the landmine
The top of the mountain
The tip of the iceberg
the tell of the tails
And tails of the sweet custom made to order
Suits and ties
Of course
don't rock the boat
If you know its yours!
JIMMY KIMMEL stares into the distance as baby shark blares over the common room television screen–he appears to be babysitting, but his look is so far off, you wouldn't know he was in the room. The baby shark song seems to drum up some uncomfortable memories from fishing over the weekend. He squints with disdain over the incident with a weary glean in his eyes; this is not something you discuss with other people.
Isn't it all in the coat tails?
It's toxic, but i've never been a model
Or even wanted, so
What are all the hot blondes at the office on about?
You wanted the host of the talk show,
And woke up to croissants and roses, orange juice
and probable cause for your lawsuit,
But in the moment you loved it
So what's everyone on about?
Isn't it all in the cufflinks?
The stuff you don't tell to your home folks;
The homegrown and midwestern corn folks,
Discussing your show over corn flakes?
So what's everyone on about?
Let us just be honest,
I didn't know how deep it was
Until i opened up pandoras box,
And thought,
“What the fuck,
I've found a horxcrux.”
I've found a goldmine,
I've got the fox and the hare all in one here,
What a show host
What a conundrum,
What a construct,
What a hopeless homonid
What a heart to want nothing but
To put the top
Back on the box
And walk away
Unknowing all
Of what I saw
–Middle Days.
There's no Tonight Show where I'm from
No late night,
And no radio hosts
No television,
no songs
No one to lead us on
And then to no where
No one to cut us off
Before the road opens
No one to
Stop us at the railroad enclosures
And no one at all
named Love
Don't you know that the idea of all of you at all
Is just so comfortable, mountain or a horse?
Capable and strong?
Don't you know the mold of you has sunk into my heart
And formed a hole
Where all the world will go,
When i'm no longer mourning?
Are you sure you want to–
No.
Not at all?
I already did!
But I saw this thing–
Don't tell me about my death.
But you were there.
That's the thing, actually, you're not understanding–
I wasn't.
But–
Quite possibly everyone and everything around me–
Possibly even, or most probably, everything ever–
But I promise, Jimmy, if that is even your name–
It isn't–
exactly. Everything happening–or unhappening in the moment–
was
everything but me.
But–
Goodbye!
But–
Goodbye, I said!
I told you it was a deathtrap.
That lady is crazy.
I'm telling you, have faith! It makes sense.
It doesn't make sense!
It does make sense.
It's just random–gibberish.
Its absolutely ludicrous, Jimmy. She's crazy!
You're youre right; it is ludicrous, actually, but listen to me—
I'm finished listening.
Yeah. I think i've heard about enough.
But you haven't heard anything!
I have now what I needed to know.
But these writings…
We'll take it from here, Jim.
[The suits walk away.]
I hope you're flame retardant.
I ought to be by now, i guess.
Double check your coverage.
How'd that go.
As expected.
At least you expected it.
There isn't anything around here I haven't been expecting lately. I mean.
V.O.
I've been working here for over twenty years…
At least you're not being haunted by ghosts or anything.
[The irony is in that yes, actually, he is talking to a ghost.]
I get it
(ripped apart)
He's in the music
away
and carrying with it
–you're on!
A signal,
A ghost–
A sacrifice,
A ritual,
you're on again,
Then off again
The pitter patter of the
dismissive members of
Upper society,
High ranking elitists
And businussmen
whom you admire astonishingly
Despite discomfort,
Whom, happen to no doubt
Disapprove of you by nature
And yet,
Are also drawn
To your own power
Circumstance
Judgement
Morals
Traditions
Honors,
Representatives of the establishment
The state
(no longer a democracy)
Repression–
All in writer's room revisions
What happened?
I haven't kept it safe or sacred
One tear over
Only out the left eye
Listen, the marytr
I opened a death trap
I opened my widened mind
To the unknown and impossible,
Swallowed it whole with the lot of you
I died with knowing only the lowest of the totem pole
And yet, low and behold
Now, I rise to the top,
And such is known that without the bottom,
The whole log topples over.
Oh wow. I'm famous.
Yes, and?
It kind of hurts.
Eventually that goes away.
What a sensation.
It's always there. You just stop feeling it.
It lingers in on a sunday night,
And at most on the full moon,
no wolves howling;
It sets in in the bunny ears
atop the chatterbox
In the kitchen, where
It outshines us, from the other room
On the radio tower,
Where in time
the vines have climbed
And now flower bloom
In silent golden era tunes,
The tombs of all our knowledge and our light
To fade with every passing hour here
Goodnight, my son
I do not want to know you
Goodbye, my father,
I do not want to rust
And again I wake in the pain and lure of autumn
To never known a summer song,
And ponder on the dusk
It lingers deep on Sunday evening,
Setting hard on Monday morn,
and though i write so fond of JImmy
I dare often dream of Lorne
Chapter Four
Donovan Arnold was a lover and not a fighter. He never much had too come up against any kind of battle, either, because he was quite prone to always getting exactly what he wanted. Louis Greenworth was not merely a friendly rival—but a challenge, and the two came head to heat in various bouts and brawls in their time at The Summit, where most if not many collide with one another for fortune, and in gratitude that there they had been chosen for greater purpose. Something told me not too far on that Donovan had many to will and ticks up his sleeve without showing it, and in Louis's visions, he cautioned that I should be wary—although, in the rarer and flickering lights of Donovan's knowing and unknown, I should be csrefyl of Louis and his corners. Then, there wasn't a force amongst us which would lightly convey Louis—his doings and his shadows were dark/-which is why I had been fashioned to it, and the powerful man he was beared such a heavy weight on all the world around him that he was nothing less than a storm to weather in total.
Then, Donovan was such the luck and clever, loving sprite, that his wit and charm was assuring to my embark; there was no way of truly ever waning in the way that Donovan had winged his way into the arrangement in his favor, but at the very least— disappointing his approval would gain no absolute pleasure beyond the astonishing dissonance of loyalty. Then, there were keepers surrounding the might and the truth if The force that the shadows could not bare— thee were times and marks and truths beyond the summit that were merely a facet of the things in the beyond, and in the way that The Source rules over its keepers, and its knowings—there was hardly any way for the nicities of pride, judgment most often throwing its way between dear Donovan Arnold and I.
There was no nose that could t smell the stench if the foul odor that the rot of betrayal had done.
The way of Donovan was seeking to know, without keeping or honor of heart—and I could not withstand another deep wound in the pit of my own truth.
They called him Donovan Arnold Palmer because he made a mean Long Island iced tea— which of course he attributed to his affient east coast heritage, hailing from a long line of the posh and uptight standard boys and girls of the fools old days. A clean cut brown nose and absolute stickler for circumstance and dedication, his placement within these sacred places was vanity, first and foremost—and with a sense of tradition and pride he carried on in the way any man would, with great relief that the world didn't rest on his shoulders the way it did on Louis— then, nothing really rested on anyone the way it did in Louis Greenworth.
chapter 5
The gifted saint of revelations
“Did he hurt you?”
I looked away without knowing where to look at all but down, my body aching with the waves of having been pressed and clutched against the spirals of time.
The things I pretend not to know.
“Who?”
Genie seemed disappointed but still, patiently coaxing me with the comfort of his warmth— calling my eyes and looking deeply into the soul. I was petrified
“What happened?”, he persists.
“I don't know what your talking about.” , I mumble guiltily.
He pauses for a moment as if he knows the depth of it— somewhere inside of me I know he knows, and behind me my mind is reeling and screaming, like a desperate unearthed fortune of unknown. Barely breathing, and shallow in the dark of the luminescence of the moonlight night, my loyalty overwhelms my pride and brotherhood.
“What did he say?” Now his eyes fill with the pain and begging for the mercy of truth, as he whispers almost with a whimper, even in his strength and grace.
In all those prayers not once had I even the ounce of nerve to think that he had uttered my name— now looking into him but huddled under him in heaps and ruins, I could not remember a time more when I wanted to disacknowlege the unknown and send a heap of words into the capes and canyons of his holy ears, though these things I knew for any time but especially this, I could never speak.
“He who?”
I can't wake up,
I'm a rockstar
Can't wash it off
And I'm just so high on drugs
That no matter the cost
I just don't want to come down
Don't want to want you anymore
Relax.
Think about it never or none
And wonder what the world becomes when
Weather tides and moon songs are no more
Remember, then the dolphin
And temperment to want what of course
All of us covet
But still, waking up in a dungeon.
What a curse.
Also, however
What a cure, as you wander up
The slithering road that parts
Los Angeles from all the north of her
Southern coast,
If you want specifics
The Pacific is at most
And much admires
Where you are,
No matter how far you wander
I want
I want
I want
And
I get
I get
I get
I'm a rockstar.
Maybe after all those times
Being just the girl that all might have died to have been
And getting mad over it
You wake up to find yourself
A stalker
Who doesn't
Leave the apartment
And just watches the come up
Of the songbird
Who just wishes
She had've gone
To Harvard
Not for law school
But the arts,
You know
You lost a fortune
That wasn't clever
You wrote a hospital long report
And look what you got!
A suffix
And later on an honorary doctorate
But look at Letterman
Hardly recognizable
And after all
The stopwatch just starts over at one
Doesn't it
Doesn't it?
I'm a rockstar
And what you wanted
Was no subtle front
But a surfboard and a ping pong table
Writing your fables in the quiet of the night
With the ocean steady lapping under the docks
And not
Collapsing her whole structure
What a thunderous wave
If you think it's time
Then you haven't caved yet
I offer all the pleasures of the golden science
And as alchemy concerned
Its really only valuable on this planet
As it stands the liquid gold mines here
Haven't budged an ounce—
There's an overflow of all you've ever wanted
With a pungent odor
Or wrongdoing done
And lemonade
To pucker
And to ponder over
S'mores for supper, anyone?
I thought not
-KR.
{Enter The Multiverse}
[The Festival Project™ ]
{Enter The Multiverse}
L E G E N D S:
ICONS
Tales of A Superstar DJ
The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū
Ascension
Deathwish
-Ū.
Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ |
Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved.
-Ū.
DJ NAMES:
-Ū. | Happy Accidents! [H∆!], c o l o r s, Uptown A
GENRE TAGS:
ACID, ELECTRONIC, EXPERIMENTAL, DANCE, DUBSTEP
DESCRIPTION:
Prepare for sonic seismic activity! "Freaky Fridays" with the enigmatic -Ū. is about to detonate on the airwaves, bringing you the biggest bass explosion since the Big Bang itself!
Climb aboard the mothership every Friday from 11 AM to 1 PM and launch your weekend into orbit with a mind-bending blend of clever soundwaves and subterranean bass frequencies that stretch from infinity and beyond.
Forget the surface – the sound of the underground is pure fire and untamed heat with DJ -Ū. at the helm. This mononymous maestro, sometimes materializing under the mysterious and mesmerizing aliases Happy Accidents, c o l o r s, or even the warehouse tycoon Uptown A, is a sonic enigma.
Though a Californian beach bum at heart, with a soul steeped in ocean vibes and sunshine, this DJ has found a home for her dance-fueled chaos in the industrial heartland of dance music, Brooklyn. Get ready for a swift punch of chaotic wonder as -Ū. seamlessly blends the Hollywood movie magic of her homeland – think swaying palms and suave vibes – with the gritty twists and turns from the bunkers of bass music: dubstep, UK garage, techno, new wave, drum-n-bass, and genre-bending mind-fluxes that defy categorization.
But wait: There's More! -Ū. isn't just about the bass.
This sonic time traveler digs deep into generations of music history, unearthing classic rock anthems, psychedelic soundscapes, trance-inducing rhythms, and those precious b-sides and rarities – forgotten gems from the stage, silver screen, and even the epic realms of fantasy, action, and adventure from blockbuster hits to obscure and insane.
-Ū. is a one-of-a-kind Pandora's record box, unleashing a thrilling mix of sonic atrocities and unexpected delights – the sounds you didn't know you were craving. So, relax, strap in, and prepare for a sweet ride filled with magic, wonder, and jaw-dropping surprises as this time-traveling tycoon hits the radio waves with the freakiest, Friday-est, no-holds-barred, anything-goes sound the world has been waiting to hear!
Tune in every Friday from 11 AM to 1 PM for literally 'whatever, man.' with your affectionate Captain, Blū Tha Gürū (-Ū.), and keep your ears peeled for guest appearances by [Any Alias Whatsoever.]
Peace + Love.
FREAKY FRIDAY 005. LIVE Originally Aired July 11th, 2025 Brooklyn, New York