Episode Details

I just want to have sex with you.

At this point, I don't want anything else— but know this, even the most simple, natural, animalistic thing is unattainable—

I'm not even successful enough to know you—

Or beautiful enough—

Or rich enough—

Or whatever it is that gets to sit in that seat next to you—

I'm not enough.

So whatever it is—

Whatever energy won't leave my body—

The racing and obsessive thoughts about you—

The surges of lust and passion through my body—

Wanting you and only you

Needing you and only you

That feeling that no one else will ever measure up — because no one else will ever measure up

I hate it—

And I'm upset as fuck.

Shabbat after sunset II

A spell starts working the very moment you decide to do it.

It works well when you know and understand its direct and exact intention

SHIA LABEOUF and SUNNI BLŪ are easily Hollywood's most obnoxious and cringeworthy couple.

Nothings more cringeworthy than this, though.

SUPACREE and DIPLO go PUBLIC,

Ewwww.

They are gross.

They're so gross.

Ugh.

Okay. We gotta find Skrillex and get back to the dimension where that whole first storyline-

What guest storyline

SCARY MONSTERS AND—

You're not real!

I am real.

No! Go away.

I'm gonna have to ask you to leave.

Get out!

Ok.

You're just a character in my book mothafucka!

Peru firebox fml

AH! THANK MADONNA!

Lol

Tongue in cheek we are—

Around the way we go,

To a place we only know

In my body, in my soul

I should have let out before I left but

Ain't nobody got time for that

I

Just recently learned what a New York minute is—

I don't like minute men,

But I like miniatures

It was the strangest thing—

Just the day,

And the thought of the man,

Had me swoon and nearly fall in love again

Wonder what had become of him,

And remembered for a moment

What love is

I had the rest of Renaissance to finish my quick set—which was only a few songs away— and at least I had made it t had made it to the gym, I thought — but suddenly, or maybe even not so, I was haunted by residual sex dreams of Dillon Frances, tememberqnces of Jon Sennet, and all the things I had said and done up to that point, which had led me to a point of absolute and udder confusion, withdrawal and detest hem t from everything I had learned about reality- at an accelerated pace—

The irony of it was, I was hopping to beyoncè Shazaming what sounded like a familiar friend in death, Kurt Cobain, or at least I thought, and taking everything I could for aampling purposes? If not just for sheer enjoyment—

“You could write a book about me”

Jon had one piped

“Don't” , he followed.

And for years, I listened, unknowing that the collections of poetry, early additions to my song catalogue, and entries in my very intimate auto-biographical timeline would culminate someday to be alone books themselves, let alone entries into the festival project, which now coveted the expanse of what was surely several books, thousands of songs, and an endless collection of poetry that had yet to pay off, but perhaps one day would, even after my death—which I was sure was presently, as nothing seemed at all as it ha