| L E G E N D S: ICONS. | Podcast Por Three Initiates arte de portada

| L E G E N D S: ICONS. |

| L E G E N D S: ICONS. |

De: Three Initiates
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The Festival Project, Inc.™ is a multidimensional multimedia platform which encompasses exploratory and artistic social personifications and expressions on cosmic theory, spirituality, growth, health & wellness, philosophy and theoretic dynamics in entertainment such as music, design, film, television, radio, dance and festival culture, art, fashion, literature, and science.

The Festival Project™ and it's subsidiary Non-Profit, The Collective Complex © aims to challenge modern artistic and philosophical ideals, break commonplace barriers, forage new creative mediums, and provoke inspired and reformed thought and actions toward evolution and overall societal improvement and ecological sustenance through a new-wave and post-modern, avant-garde and philanthropic hyperawareness driven by a unique culture of global values mediating global respect and preservation via open consciousness, multi-sensory and synesthetic (multi-preceptory) expansions of sound, language, vibration, movement, color, emotion, and ritual governed conceptually by the aspect(s) of love, truth, unity, understanding, and peace.

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TRIGGER WARNING!

⚠️ VIEWER, LISTENER, and READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. ⚠️

This series contains adult content not suitable for children or under the legal age of majority.

Listener and reader discretion is advised as this publication and / or broadcast and its selected readings and projected writings may contain explicit language, provocative wordplay, profanity, open expression of suicidal ideation, discussion of evolved/ de-institutionalized theories concerning depression and, psycology mental health, race relations and colorism, socio-economic inequality, political injustice and media politicism/ mass media manipulation, unresearched/undocumented scientific hypothesis , modern philosophical ideals and spiritual explorations, crude/ adult humor and may also include and contain pornographic content, references to fictionalized interpretations of celebrities and/or public figures (fan-fiction), caricatures or references to pop culture, modern art, music, science and other entertainment references which may evoke biased emotion, inspire adverse reactions, contemplative thought, discontentment, or discomfort.

The views and opinions expressed by this series and its subsequent editions, additions, chapters, broadcasts, and publications are solely the writers' interpretations as expressed with artistic and entertainment purposes only.

The artist reserves all rights to intellectual property maintained and produced by any and all publications of this series and is thereby protected under any applicable copyright law and/or trademark.

All fictionalizations of persons living or dead are meant to be perceived as characterized and/or fictional (fan-fiction) are for entertainment purposes only, and are not to be perceived as real re-enactments, dramatizations of events past or present, media dialogues or agendas, or factual exchanges pertaining to and surrounding real-life circumstances.

The dialogues and entires expressed in this project are in no way liable for any action, expression, disagreements, entitlements held by the reader at his or her/ their own discretion.

[The Festival Project ™]

The Complex Collective ©

{Enter The Multiverse}

Copyright 2025 by Three Initiates
Episodios
  • Garden of Evil. (Insturmental)

    Garden of Evil. (Insturmental)
    Aug 11 2025
    Lil bitz So I'm watching this is it I love Michael Jackson, So I have this movie queued up for a couple days And I finally get to watching it, And it's been a quiet few days So I'm watching this movie in like silence. And it's so eerie to watch Michael Jackson rehearse in this like full stadium for nobody at all— Almost like, telling of the actuality of him impending death— but I'm watching this, and I'm like, really into it, you know, paying attention to all the details, and it gets to the part, one of my favorite songs: And it's showing him rehearsing like Jam, and you know, it's one of my favorite songs so I know all the words, and he's dancing— going like 110% in rehearsal. I trained in dancing for a little bit— most people don't do that. In rehearsal it's usually conserving your energy and just about the mechanics of everything, you know, the rehearsals leading up are like “75-80%” you know the drill, you get it down, but you conserve your energy for the big rehearsals— the dress rehearsals and the opening nights and the entirety of the tour— you don't want to burn our. But not Michael Jackson. This dude is going 400% at rehearsal, everytime you see him, which is why he's the absolute catalyst of professionalism for performance. But I'm watching him rehearse this at full, max-level energy, and he's aiming “Jam! Jam!” And I'm thinking about how literally this is just before he died, and he's really going all-in singing “Jam! It ain't too much for me!” And I can't help thinking about the irony of this, is that… ‘Like, actually, it is.” Like it was too much for him… because he did this— And then died shortly after. So the irony, to me, was like “It ain't too much for me!” I'm like “Yes it is.” It was too much for him. I couldn't help but notice the irony. “It ain't too much for me!” “Yes it is Michael! Sit the fuck down” Or better yet, dawg— Lay down….(mwahaha) Said, Conrad. “Let's take a nap, shall we?” Too soon? Okay, I get that his death was ruled a homicide: But here's my reverse conspiracy theory. I don't think he was murdered. I think he was ‘exited' No, not executed, “exited” Like, after all that, Michael was just like “ok , i'm getting off here. that's…that's enough.” Or like, we already knew he was immortal and wasn't gonna die anyway, of like, just natural causes. “Might as well make it a spectacle.” “This is it!” (lol that joke still works 15 years later, I guess. The movie is on youtube for free right now so, it's relevant. Its relevant.) {Enter The Multiverse} Every time I stick my hand in the middle of a papaya I wish I had a dick so I could warm it up and fuck it. Top Ten Best Fruits of All Time to be fair, I wrote the papaya joke before continuing my obsession with michael jackson in the monumental comic atrocity. Fair. You'd have to warm it up, though. He said, “Don't say shit” To this day it still don't make sense She didn't give a whisper, Slick tongue, six-nine Try dialogue but nothing she could try to find in time, And so, he counts from one to five and with the lies had come down to talk With the conclusion that after all, She couldn't do this And the story once to be told Now was none I dream in beforehand Secrets and premonitions Now you don't need me, I seek to bleed, sequence Ten seconds, initiated in the heartfire Words now? None I never thought of Before now, Now come. lol remember when Skrillex followed me to Brooklyn? Lol. Didn't I hide in a closet? I don't remember. Did I hide in the closet? What made me look that up? Curiosity killed the cat. Where the fuck is my cat, anyway? Atticus Catticus? The truth is, I think Skrillex might just be one cold hard murderer; I think Sonny hides behind his good looks and non subtle genius— I think I hide my eyes, cause I can't find them; The original pair went into the air, With The Rock And The Kite, And with all the despair in the world I like peaches and pears, After all, This is no random circumstances That you might have canned them, Then a penny for a power Just to recind how I did spend My last hour. Don't worry about that! I don't! Don't look and don't touch! I didn't! Don't gawk and don't talk back; I can't. I never quite abandoned anything so quite as badly As my own Cuban sandwhich Back in the cabbana, BRIAN CRANSTON Howdy partner! Goddammit, not right now! BRIAN CRANSTON If not now— WHEN? I don't know when!! Okay?! BRIAN CRANSTON No, not okay! I'm not okay! Well, why? What? BRIAN CRANSTON I'm not okay! BRIAN CRANSTON is not okay . AHHHHJJJJ!!!'nnnnnnnnnn!!!!!!'nnn Why is this map still open?! I don't know! The moderators won't close it. ANNE HATHAWAY harpoons a large subway rat. Guh! Fuck New York! I'm...
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    3 m
  • FR3∆KY FRÏD∆ŸS w/-Ū. - EP. 007 (LIVE)

    FR3∆KY FRÏD∆ŸS w/-Ū. - EP. 007 (LIVE)
    Aug 9 2025
    I was told specifically not to go to that grocery store anymore— but they had the rice noodles I liked. The thing was, actually, this time, they didn't— and so I knew my time was again coming to a close. I knew it would be the last time before I left, and regardless that I was going to leave anyway, but it felt like the last time— there were no rice noodles at all, and with my arms full of essentials, I figure listening to the voice in my head that told me not to do these things was probably for the best.'I can hear that.' But I was beginning to be rebellious in my actions and endeavors, because I simply wasn't making money, and this was making me not just sad, but actually very angry. {Enter The Multiverse} Professor Tannenbaum. Sir. Yikes. I'm sure I'm shown up at the Equinox Just for [someone] to torture me Cause for what? I'm dead broke, and not a [] blonde I'm on another trial Been tryin, but been a while It's too bad I'm too tired to run a mile I been Up all night It ain't right I hate New York I'm so sick of being broke But I still cannot find a job, I'm so certain that it's hell that I'm l surprised It's not on fire, But maybe all hell is for real l Is a cold heart world With no love in it Where you stop being inspired It's murder for hire with motorcycles And corrupt politicians So if I look a little older I'm smart to sue em So y'op wanna walk toward And cut me off Tryna get noticed by a God But I been only in New York So I'm humbled, mumble like i'm nobody But the no ones try to follow me I swallow all my humble cards I want to pick them up But just for once , I leave my garbage on the floor All these skanks Look like Hillary swank Come to thinking they slick tryna take the energy I make They all look like snakes Lazy But never cease to amaze me Walking up in the world I made Still tryna hate me. Thankfully, it's just a think tank to me and when the balance beam turns the tables on em I'm he back in my temple home; Now it's your turn to be homeless, Ya boneless serpent This is just a bonus l Cause I took a wrong turn But it was the right one Cause I got some rhymes done. Ya'll get off of my nuts Look, I got nine Trump cards Welcome to my dump, lards You're non recyclable! What can I say Besides, That I'm always correct Look at the thing that coughs she's gross and she don't have the touch The flight of love. The touch of god, The twist of the hand Or knowing from before But she benefits off of the blood The coughs The sign of the demons and dark ones It was already a done deal. I knew it was sort of a scam, or maybe even sometimes that rich white peoples had the worst demons of all— My fears had been confirmed the moment I walked in, someone coughing in that same disgusting way as I had been used to as soon as I approached the desk to activate my pass— but I knew as soon as I walked in that it was worth it; I would save everything that I had and sell my outdated DJ gear I wasn't using anyway, and I would take advantage of the offer to reinstate my membership; this would serve me so much more than my equipment was anyway. I wasn't getting along in the DJ world, and in fact after the cancellation of REQUISITE, the disrespect at [redacted] , and the techno Jew telling me my clothes and looks made me worthless in the industry, I considered he might have been right; I would be better off back where I started, at Equinox and broke but at least amongst the clean and quiet elite— this would raise my vibration and clear my headspace for something greater, eventually…even if it was just a job in luxury retail–going back to school or figuring out how to get behind the scene. My DJ days seemed to be over; I needed security and longevity, and I needed the opportunity to come back at the price with a one month advance desperately. Perhaps six weeks of training could jumpstart something better; I didn't know. But selling my equipment was worth it, because being a DJ was getting me nowhere but a quickly depleting supply of coconut water. Man wheezy for real And I don't even feel the pain Came a long way to Wayne I took the 2 train, Fell out of the truth Still trying to find 2 chainz But I went the wrong way I been up all day Somethings wrong, I should probably go to a hospital A long time ago I'm hoping that this tissue mass is cancer And it's fatal tho Fee like I'm inflatable Ain't no man is faithful yo I'll probably smoke a big ol bowl When I get back to heaven, man With a rebel yell, she cried: omg, a leg press. Feeling like, a little bit friendless Should probably get a wet wipe Should probably get some leg lifts in Should probably get the leg press in It's been a late one Should probably get some press ons Probably get my press kits done Should probably call it in But then again Don't got a home much longer Do I! Parallels, This shit is real I get it in for a second then ...
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    1 h y 15 m
  • Hiatus #3: Nails, Hair, Hips, Heels.

    Hiatus #3: Nails, Hair, Hips, Heels.
    Aug 9 2025

    We're running out of time .

    We're Always running out of times.

    Haven't eaten;

    Kesha—Birkin—

    Sorry, Conan,

    Haven't pondered

    (Fight!)

    There you are;

    Equinox mornings

    Getting lost

    (Fun)

    Doesn't shove

    Croissants down the throat

    As long as I'm on the island

    (What?)

    Long day;

    Never money

    Haven't got a

    (Cat!)

    Sanctuary

    (doves)

    Jimmy Fallon?

    Never found him

    (What?)

    Pools of blood,

    Nevermind that.

    I was so sick the night before,

    Even in my sleep that I thought to call out.

    But no,

    “I don't skip freaky friday.”

    I hadn't yet, and so my streak was valid, but I felt like shit, and despite my sponsorship I didn't feel I had any interest in DJing at all.

    The apertment was a mess, and though I'd spent the day before for hours cleaning in all the crevices the cat found that I hadn't, it still wasn't perfect— then, why would I try to make it perfect on the brink of eviction with the dread and depression that came with the noise?

    I wanted to fucking die, and the long hours not spent sorting through my hard drives were instead spent watching Saturday night live and funneling popped corn into my mouth, because indeed— I was actually, finally, chrnically depressed.

    It could be written off as some coincidence or extreme city noise, but I knew in my heart it was instead asassination, the apartment was a trap and I'd been set up to be weakened enough to eventually either kill myself, or back to homelessness to die.

    The least thing I was interested in was music, and apparently, though I'd had thousands of dollars somewhere in unclaimed royalties , I couldn't seem to find my EIN— the business tax ID I needed to file papers, because I didn't use it often enough; I didn't file taxes, because I wasn't making money.

    (At least, I'd thought I hadn't.)

    I couldn't even remember which subway stop was the correct one; and I knew with this I must have been coming to the end of my time in New York; everything seemed strange and faraway, as if I were in a dream.

    L E G E N D S: ICONS

    {Enter The Multiverse}

    He's heaven

    But i'm probably his headache

    What's a medical assessment to lemon merengue

    And I wish to that same heaven that we're all as sick

    As what's disturbed to be described by

    Highest our physicians can abide

    Just the though of him,

    The whispers of prolific;

    Just the sight,

    I get to writing thoughts

    As if the words were mine,

    But still,

    The caves of wells kept secret,

    Pure and water like the thoughts,

    Are just the parallels od subtle secrets

    Kept inside a box

    This could be mine,

    Dammit, a glimpse—

    Who are I?

    Caught in a wince with the glimpse of a notion

    And putting out fires—

    Who are I?

    You call?

    In the midsts of a morning,

    Worlds over,

    Neglected,

    No former recognition, but

    Who are you for?

    Not mine,

    But still a world of sure

    For art mines

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    The Complex Collective ©

    [The Festival Project ™]

    All Rights Reserved

    -Ū.
    Más Menos
    1 h y 21 m
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