Stub: The Impending Crisis for Mental Health Patients - Neck Cancer.

 Neck cancer is a relatively new topic for me. I hadn’t heard of it, prior to a couple or so months ago (it’s now mid-October, 2021, at the time of this writing).

Cancer of the neck? I’ve had esophageal tuberculosis (I think it was; the doctors said that it was something else, or … I dunno. They kind of just disregarded it. Anyways, I lost my voice for perhaps a few months. It turns out that there were hard gobs of mucous stuck inside of my vocal cords, and I could get them out with a Q-tip. I surmise that I had contracted the disease through a tuberculosis test which I had been administered while hospitalized for an acute psychiatric emergency, for a month, or so. They denied that the TB test would cause tuberculosis, though. Some doctor had disavowed it, later on, in history. 

Here’s some of the knowledge base on neck cancer, from cancer.gov:

My red mark-up indicator brings to light a corollary topic which pertains to mental health, and remote sensing, as well as persona marketing, counter-intelligence, mind control, and gang stalking contexts. I’ll only get in to it stub, here, for brevity’s sake, and I’ll keep it simple, such as to let the reader’s mind ponder. 

Now, as well, with the advent of the cytokine storm of COVID-19 infections, which is an inflammatory disease, we see some notion of the otherwise common person, pushed too far, perhaps in their digital life, where life seems more compelling to indulge, for some, as that the constraints of the physical become the pains in the neck, whereas some of our hormones are regulated in the thyroids, which are situated right next to our major neck arteries. 

Some quick tips, as for harm reduction:

• Don’t smoke scuzzbwies and drywall. Just… just [fuck…] already. 
• Smoking is for tobacco, as far as lawful behavior is concerned. Becoming casual about “smoking” of other sorts lends itself to increased risk for total recall (full body scans, and transmutability unto others, aka Scientology “gods,” or idols of some sort, out of the subject.
• Remember the lessons of childhood. Don’t speak unless you’re spoken to. Respect your elders. Don’t use the Lord’s name in vain. 
• I’ve got an “advanced neck cracking” instructional video up on YouTube. Check it out. It might be revolutionary for you. Sure, it looks bad, but hey, this is the neck at issue. What kind of donor could offer a suitable adjunct parcel of body form and what kind of treatment protocol could be supposed, in such a situation?
• Just watch the video. I’m shooting for organic hits, here, and I know, it’s significantly niche, but if I do something on camera, and leave it posted, I’d hope that it at least helps some people out of their otherwise misery that they’re living through.

How does neck cancer become removed from the body? 

Neck cancer which is experienced concurrent with chronic inflammatory disease could be a condition which is simply symptomatic of the inflammation condition itself, in conjunction with pre-existing cancerous, or pre-cancerous cells in the body, attempting to release themselves from the body; a condition which could correlate with an ionic mineral cleanse and detoxification regimen, for example. I would estimate that this is the process that I am going through. 

In essence, I felt that my experience of this problem became apparent, after I had some bouts of mild “chomping” down, at the jaws, at which point I incurred a fracture of my premolar tooth, on my upper jaw. I realized that this fracture indicated that it was an opportune and resonantly consistent ulceration that had been opened up, of a seamless opening that bridged my bloodstream in to the outside world, of my mouth. I noticed that I had let out a blood clot; for example, and it was a blackened opening, similar to a cavity, yet a bit uncommon, since it was not at my gum line; rather, it was in the middle of the tooth, as though the tooth had been drilled open. I had various exigent sources of need, in detoxification: for one, I had broken my fist against the wall, a couple of months prior, and my bone marrow had an opportunity to leak out, in to my blood stream. In this case, I felt that I was regulating, and renewing, the bone marrow that had been leaking out, giving my overall bone marrow composition a new signature trait to it, whereas it was locked inside of the bones, prior to my hand break. Aside from this, I am a long-time tobacco smoker, and I have ostensible tar and plaque buildup in my bloodstream; but my broken hand’s scar tissue would probably have been one of the acutely critical things to get out of my bloodstream. At the moment, it’s popping up, in my life, as a deep vein thrombosis, at the back of my knee. I’m working it out, through vigorous exercise, mixed in with intervals of rest, and I suppose that some of it is aerated out of my system through this fractured cavity in my tooth, which will eventually be treated and sealed back up, with a renewed regimen of ionic calcium intake, which I will manage for myself, and perhaps I’ll follow up with a dentist, to have him check on it, and perhaps seal it with a filler, as had been done for me, on my molars, back in my school days. 

The large cavity fracture on my premolar is evident, here, in this image. 

Take a look at how large my teeth had grown out, and expanded, with ionic mineral calcium supplementation! Perhaps I can grow in to a larger frame, some day, with continued supplementation. 

Future Halloween Costume Aspirations - Chimera Sparrow (via Google AI and Vector Q [imaengine])

 What a concept to bring to the out-doo-doo port-a-potty: doing the best costume ever - here, I assert that, as of 2021, that title couldn’t possibly be aught else than the chimera sparrow, rendered through Vector Q (imaengine), brought to life, thanks to: my choice for local fashion and crafting aspirations: Michael Levine. 

The first run print of the chimera sparrow ex imaengine | Vector Q ex Google AI Chimera Maker Tool

Oops, I guess they’ve shuttered their doors. But I’ll remember the guy, and perhaps I’ll catch him at a future 12 Steps meeting, or something. I spilled milk on his floor, over there, once, but I bought something from there, 3 times. For me, I felt that it was the relatable (for me) fabric store and supplier, of the retail shop sort, within the DTLA fashion district locale. It was cool to see the owner of the brand on the showroom floor on any given workday. 

Where can one catch bird-spotting the chimera sparrow, short of future Halloweens-to-come, of my costume making aspirations to-be (I purchased a $200+ sewing machine, off of Amazon, but I don’t know how to use it, just yet. It’s been sitting pretty, and my chimera sparrow [failed print] is guarding the fashion realm closet micro-space modular portion of my room, as et cie cute as can be). 

My micro-space modular closet features an Epson printer, a many-stitching patterns sewing machine, from Amazon, an aquarium pump au jour eau de (… it’s au jour) aerator and percolator, a black light, a lithium ion batteries bass trap ex large fabric roll ex fashion district DTLA discards haul, a (mostly) Nordstrom set of cold-weather clothes (or, for long-sleeves lovers), crumbs, knick-knacks, and some hummingbird juice. A moth had taken a liking to the stuff, and I don’t mind the moths. Oh, and there’s a chimera sparrow standing guard, off in the back, here.

Anyways, 

I need to learn how to use the sewing machine, and my readers get to be the insiders in to future developments and productivity cycles of iPigeon.institute - to come. 

Where can one view the Pigeons and Friends prints collection? 

I am commonly out at Los Angeles State Historic Park, in the late afternoons and early evenings, and from time to time, I can bring out the prints collection so that passers by can view the prints in person, as I sit and do stuff on my iPad Pro, or something. I can also have small samples of my fragrance creations out, once I finish fixing them, to my satisfaction. 

Virtual Narcotics Anonymous Meeting: Confronting Asymmetrical

It’s an inevitable outcome, for the person who had lived a finery lifestyle, of some sort, as far as eating good food, and exercising regularly goes. I would consider those two things to be primary traits of fine living, even at its most bare, all else considered - finding the pleasure pursuit, and seeking pleasures, instead, to characterize the persona mocked up as of that finery would be considered upon this basis, rather than a more sustainable and natural lifestyle set of traits be extolled. 

Isn’t it inevitable? At least, in Los Angeles, it would seem so. We’re told that we have the capability to live out all of geography’s wonders, within driving distance of less than a day, out here. The larger picture we’re given, is that we live in the finest nation in the world. But how many people end up subsumed by the glamour lifestyle, at some point, or get swept up in the out-do-doo scandal rags of publication literature and media? At some point, people will demand that these scoundrels pull their own weight, in athleticism, for the fact that … well, I don’t know what. I happened to be personally, thankfully, graced with a fitness mentor of the unexpectedly degree of distinction, in my life. The man’s workouts would challenge a dormant heartbeat into a near-faint, within seconds, no doubt. To have not been attending to these things would become apparent, within minutes. Yet, the man is made of these things, perhaps not forever, though, in the land where people start to believe that life lives on, forever. The land of fables, as it were, that we do, here, by tradition, in this town. 

The question: How could you possibly be thought of as heroic, when you’re doing something erotic?

 This was written in complement to a different pornography scene which I filmed, of myself, which I didn’t end up appreciating all that much, so I deleted it, prior to publishing it. I happened upon an individual annotating some recorded comments and questions in regards to my pornographic content, which is up on Xvideos, in any sort of relation to what I do on here, in my blog, iPigeon.institute.

This is just a sample of what I’d consider to be objectively erotic, perhaps for both sexes | genders. I, for example, have previously looked back over my footage, and felt erotically charged, because of it. Other people make demands upon sexuality, for reasons that they fail to communicate to me, but through a personality “complex,” as it were, … an abnormal psychology diagnostic standard, inevitably, of some form; some formative, defining nature about them, which is common, and typical. 

Not that all the men do this sort of thing, I don’t care to pass judgment, but I just don’t take care to observe and pore in to content, online, that I’m not initially compelled by. The tricky thing is, nowadays, is that we’re not always getting the feed, or gallery, that we click on, per se, with the deepfakes thing happening, and each unto our own, of some decided, or determined fate, for some methodology of ethical and practical design upon our sexual desires, whereas, at some points in time, we’re significantly fortunate to have these sorts of moments fulfilled for us. 

My main message is: no problems means that many concerns had been addressed, in order to feign composure, “by this point in time,” I would have said, on a day like, … two days ago, that I’m still awake on, “at this point in time.” Now, that being said, who knows what a deepfake algorithm will determine I ought look like, and for what purposes, or reasons? On one hand, I’m sure that I look fwopped bwopp, facially, of the truth of things, but I’m found, here, to be in a circumstance, and a situation, where I wouldn’t commonly try to interact with somebody else. I choose not to be gay, and to not commit depravities, on account of that I just don’t quite believe all the things that I hear, quite so much. I just don’t know, and I don’t try to venture to explore the world of indulging fetishes, and carnal desires, all that much. I have my own seeded way of doing things, part of it is simply withholding fulfillment, which is part of the trickery that a musician has about themselves, of “some of them,” <_< … I would suppose, whereas, in pornography, it’s a bit questionable as to whether or not we ourselves truly understand, and “even could” receive and attain quite what we’re seeking, from moment to moment. 

My overarching claim, that I would have about myself, is that sound and proper communication, of a literary mind, or of a “literate” mind, proselytizing a sound lectern and discourse unto a pupil, to use some alternative dialect, of my resource of the English language; not that I would find it uncommon, or distasteful, to do so; particularly as I grow older, and more resourceful in my linguistic repertory and more so culturally affixed to a greater aesthetic and purpose, in rectifying, or explaining, at least; come to a pause - the reasons for why I might simply just “do” what had been requested of me, and here it is - my rationale behind these sorts of antics. Now you see me typing, on Notes. A simple format. The iPad Pro does screen recording, to the significant fulfillment of the visual learner. To see it in real time is proof of … of something, at least. 

The words, … they still exist, up there; the grammar and usage is right, and at times, I’m being supported by some collective spirit of one or more people, who would perhaps do so, in mentoring me, and for the sake of seeing me proliferate, despite trivial and trite contentions that had been spoken to me, during the course of what had transpired, just prior to me setting about in composing this section of the “get to know somebody” thing; a bit uncommon, for a media outlet such as this, but I would be doing something on my iPad, quite commonly, given many a sort of lifestyle circumstance and outcome that could find it’s way in needing to be documented, annotated, composed, photographed, written about, or perhaps I simply am the subjective dilettante of “everybody else’s” objective reality, which focuses upon me, of a limited scope, in perspective, or, more appropriately - in hindsight. Intellectuals appreciate me, for doing this sort of written (typed) work composition, because of the predictable flow and form about it; it’s known as transliteration. That’s as literally trans as I’m willing to actually bend, whereas I do value masculine characteristics; I’m just not the highest achiever, in various attesting-doings to that aspiration in life, and some of these guys find it suitable purpose and cause to gang up on me, for the fact that they’d had varying and alternate ways, and even of the essential form, and formative self, as it were, of what constitutes a man. 

I say, let a person conquer man, understand women, (come to), and learn to make people laugh, and be at ease, during the course of transliterative nepotism taking place; nepotism, here, being the deed of bestowing, upon a lesser individual, the customs and formulary keep and sorts of the more well-to-do individual. If we couldn’t connect upon the higher sort of interaction that could be had, give, that better and more suitable accompaniments exist, for each one of us, … I’d have to wonder why that suit had not been accommodated for the person, and for the collective people who speak out at me, at least “sometimes,” and I have all sorts of sayings that would characterize my composed and appropriate self; I don’t need to get in to all and everything, like that, just right at this moment. 

I wrote the words down; they seem to characterize me, yet I acknowledge my peers, mentors, overseers, authorities, and “higher powers,” that they are, whereas sometimes, people find themselves the invisible “star” of claiming their own stake in my, and “our” lives; if you’re here, you would be following along to this, or thumbing by, in life, getting by… somehow. What could I possibly do? I’m not gay, for one thing. There’s better people about us, to be had, if the guy could just suit that fulfillment,t, well enough. It’s obviously a guy problem. Me? I’ve got a face problem, currently. 

It’s awrr rawr rough and tough n’ shit. I dunno… I figure that a woman, in this day and age, might end up being a bit sort of like me, come down to tastes in sexuality and degrees of indulgence in fetishism. I just do-doo. That’s one of my claims. I do Nike, … the athleisure fashion thing, … bum that I am, and hey, . . . I’m judgmental, at that. I can’t be everyone’s favorite girlfriend, but how many guys suitably accommodate a viable conversational partner, of fulfillment of expectations that society has upon us, for the sake of sustaining ourselves - this sort of thing being an adult context, and me, at age 39. Hmm. I don’t know how much time I’d taken up, composing this thing, butt shittle? On camera - next context to of on fwopp bwopp butt shittle, the … ummm. . . I was just kidding. I won’t do that on camera. There’s a bunch of stuff that I won’t do - hey, <_< … I’m just a victim of crime; a stalking victim, of the remote sensing apparatus, of “whatever” means, by which that happens - I wasn’t brought up on dramatics - I was brought up on intelligence, and in musical understanding, and I went to church, and stuff. 

Okay. I’m done explaining stuff. I feel that that’s suitably enough, if you happened to catch me doing this, and you would sit or stand there, or lay down, etc., and figure that I could be a fuck-mode loon, for playing with myself, with the seeded knowledge of that the camera’s on, but I’m just seeking to fulfill a slight notch in online pornography, that I feel is lacking, at least, at this point in time, whereas I’d care to inspire and arouse people to discover fulfillment, themselves. I’m only good for what I’m good for. Some people try to make me worse than that, and claim that that’s what I | they did, of on. For that matter, it could better come to be understood visually, of the linear form, that is transliterative pidgin English, that it “might” be, yet within the proper grammatical bounds, etc. 

Alright. That’s all. 

Product Review: Alpha Ionone (Natural), from Perfumer’s Apprentice.

 Dedicated botanists, as for backdrop to a fragrance-making and mixing enthusiast “hobbyist” sort of pseudo-professional profile of perfume-maker - not quite a lab chemist, ever, foreseeably, yet not quite an elementary-level “essential oils only” type of fragrance mixer, by moonlight, as it were… would not quite classify the Iris as a notably fragrant flower. No, by it’s formative traits, it is a perennial tuberous root-replicating crop; a rhizome, that is. The flowers? Classic, via our Art History lessons, as Jean Claude Van Damme, though… man, he could kick some ass. 

I’m still on, like, my last blog post’s lingering persona and effects, and attitude. 

Sorry about that. It’s Claude Monet, who did the famous landscapes of the folk-ish peasant pastorale, he, himself, a master of observation, and an indulgent one, when it came to large strokes, and goop, with his impasto technique, with the tube of acrylic, forming some of the characteristic primary favorites of art lovers, of the Early Modern Period; here, Impressionism, as it’s known, along with Van Gogh, who did similar work, stylistically.

Botany enthusiasts ex art lovers-slash-historians would instantly draw a connection, between Claude Monet and his Irises. 

Lately, my Facebook News Feed is a Glorious Cash Cow, of Menial Effort Required.

 The thought of it is obviously compelling - easy cash, for doing “most-simplistic” sorts of tasks, completing surveys, questionnaires, mystery shopping, etc. 

But how does one discover, or happen upon, this sort of chance deal and offer, in one’s own news feed, etc.? 

As I’d noted, in prior blogs, or on my social media newsfeed outputs, themselves, (for me, that would be mostly on my Facebook or one of my various Twitter (okay, mostly - I have 2 Twitter accounts): the point is, is that sometimes, I try to list out, and reiterate - some sort of moralistic aptitude, of life’s fated time-in-passing’s “lore,” as it were, …

Actually, as I hear people whackin’ and smackin’ shit, out over in the background. 

Brian Laundrie just got fwopped bwopp out somewhere, over on the news… “Hey? Huh…?” 

Then, there’s the “try: to remember;” thing - what was it. What is it? The response? 

For how do-doo I did people, out here, out in this implode-cell of lavish indulgence and ego? I did people do-doo. 

Frangipani Absolute - Pure Aroma Ingredients from iPigeon Aroma Ingredients

 A richly fragrant deep, indole | narcotic floral aroma absolute; this product is 100% undiluted extract from freshly-picked plumeria blossoms, otherwise known as Frangipani. The fragrance is loved all the world around, for its powerful and diffuse fragrance.

An [imaginary] day of recognition for iPigeon.institute and for me, Jay Ammon.

 I stayed out for the weekend. It was exhausting, but I got the birds fed, most definitely. 

A couple of notable things happened, both of them in succession to one another. As I was hanging out in Grand Park, taking inventory of my day, and catching up on internet aspirations, and such, a lady came up to me. She somehow intuited that I was the perfumer of the area. I had been cleaning out the spray mechanism of my new tropical perfume spray, Southern Critters Skeet Skeet, and I let out a few spritzes of it. It’s an unexpectedly vastly diffuse spray, and, as such,  it’s suitable for environmental, rather than personal fragrancing. I was sitting by the top of the water fountain when she came up to me, and she kindly commented on the beauty of the perfume that had enveloped the area, and she asked for a sample. I gave her several milliliters in a sample spritzer, and I applied a label on to the spritzer, with my information, so she could follow me, and contact me, in the future, if she was interested in my developments in perfumery, etc.

That was the first thing that happened. After that, I heard a richly-developed remote-sensing episode play out;  both somewhat a social work awards and recognition showcase and a 12-step self-help meeting, all in one. They had gathered to recognize the work I had been involved in doing, as far as keeping the birds fed, around town. It was a dearly heartfelt outpouring of support for me, and while they were at it, they had also reprimanded, publicly, the ones who had been persecuting me, as part and facet of the 12 steps nature of the program, as it were. 

I came home and rested for a few days, and now, my time is up, here. I’ve got to go back out and feed the birds, but the recognition I had received, through this “imaginary” program which had played out, turned out to be very therapeutic, and I feel as though perhaps I can be healed of my drug addiction, at least, for now. Thank you so much, people of social work, in the downtown Los Angeles area, for putting this together for me. It really helps out. 

It’s slim pickings, at the end of my food supply, for the Figueroa at 4th underpass pigeons, today.

I'm at the end of my food supply for the birds, out here, in Downtown Los Angeles, and it's been a rough patch for this flock,over the past week, in my care and watch over them, which I'd been making sure to get to. I do 4 flock areas, in Downtown Los Angeles, when I come out here.

(Update): I had recalled that I found a container of some sort of rich beef soup, and I gave it to them. This past week, it seemed as that there might have been some people present, in the nearby vicinity, and the birds weren't perching at their regular location, in a notch, under the underpass bridge. The birds were super excited to get some food in them, as this spot is most typically my last stop, in visiting the birds of DTLA.

Another Downtown LA (Though Slight) Occupation and Riot - October 2021 DTLA Folklore.

 Who could deny it, for either living here or ending up here, any time over the past several weeks or so?

The evidence is present for the daytime locals and locality regulars, (such as myself) to come to understand. As pictured here, at the [… insert apartment complex name], property damage is being threatened and waged, lately, by roving waves of seemingly random, yet quite common casually psychotic individuals. It’s a burgeoning mental health crisis, out here. Much of the dissent and “acting out” is based upon some demographic crisis, of which the truth of the matter could ostensibly be difficult, even for professionals, social workers, and mental health outreach teams to effectively understand, in terms of some means of civil service being put in to effect, which could quell the ongoing drama and settle the unease of the citizens who reside here. 

Being on the ground level, out on the streets, here, myself, in particular - for being one of the dedicated bird flocks’ caretakers in the locality, as well as that I happen to patronize Skid Row drug dealers, I get, at a minimum, at least some conjectural intelligence and informed status, in regards to what seems to be going on, within the campus that precludes downtown Los Angeles. 

The mental health system is failing abuse victims, as the prevailing disposition that I’m presented with, for example. I do my best to accommodate my otherwise poor emotional support mechanism, in life, through aesthetic means, whether it be situational, environmental, artistic, and sometimes, I seek the pleasurable. Long days of persecution, of my schizotypal mind, by personas that fall by the wind, during the majority of my life - who truly is in my life, to any appreciable degree? 

My apologies, for making this a personal note, on my blog. It got neglected, of my earlier ambition to cover the greater mental health victims demographic, and I got swept in to a several-hours long remote sensing debacle, largely of forgettable and transient things, lacking in accountability, and yet seething with sadism about it. Apparently, one person cares to see me incarcerated, rather than that I take, for myself, an amount of crystal methamphetamine that drug dealers care to allocate and provide, of my purchasing from them.

Update: 10/17/2021: As it turns out, today would perhaps stand as one in which infamy reigned over personal freedoms and the autonomous mind. I made a report, last night, to the FBI (or tried to; there was an impassable form input error message). Would that have happened to have hijacked my attention span? All in all, I made some off-color jokes last night, and people are in an uproar about this and that, still; people from my past, who harbor a distaste for me, for my penchant for honesty. Today was a day of descent, so to speak, in to the recesses of the prelimbic mind, (which happens to be under review, or subject to < rescind >, “apparently,” as far as autocorrect goes). Yikes. Watch out, there. In any case, I founded this .institute aspiration and enterprise based upon much of what an intelligence and development enterprise ought hold as sacred knowledge; things that must be kept, throughout disaster and peril. 

The disavowal of pre-limbic mind. Mind control. I’m just, at this point in time, (acutely), being offered dissent, in regards to my freedom. It appears to be a home town row and hazing of me; I can tell: the type of demographic is telling, at times. People speaking so freely, and without care, or consideration towards me, and as I’d mentioned, I’m simply largely alone, in life, at this point in time. I suppose that I’ve upset some people. Not everyone, by any means, but quite apparently - some people. 

The DTLA Civil Defense Audible Apparatus Installations (updating)

The downtown Civil Defense Apparatus first caught my eye as an interrent homeless person in DTLA last October.

The device looks as though it might be a flame-heater « au jour » for the civilians to make use of in public (which would be a fortunate thing, at some points in time; being myself: homeless). [revised: originally composed 05/16/2019]

Hill at 8th

Various lores about the need for these installations to have come in to place - namely to the effect of that they were old announcement satellite speakers that would herald some sort of Cold War anomaly going on.

Mid-Wilshire

Update: I happened upon another Civil Defense Audible Apparatus in South Los Angeles, the other day, after having jogged and walked back towards my home, from the Inglewood area. (October 16th, 2021); I’m now housed, thankfully, as an update.

Manchester at Harvard - Happy Fish Market | Ralph’s

Given various critical analysis; it would be obvious that there would ostensibly be a <_ alarms="" aloof="" an="" autonomous="" be="" being="" box="" crane="" dictattaphoneur="" for="" gain="" hoisted="" if="" in="" ladder="" lift="" man="" nbsp="" need="" of="" or="" p="" perhaps="" platform="" some="" sort="" sounded.="" status="" superior="" the="" there="" to="" up="" used="" visually="" was="" were="" while="" yet="">

Given the wear on the objects, and that [I believe]: that these things had been relatively new additions to DTLA and surrounding areas as of this past year, 2018. 

Maybe back then, the things did serve fire and heat

to continue; of that they are rusted, yet not thoroughly; and perhaps they are refurbished and remanufactured with some grit about the outsides of the poles. 

LA Metro subterranean blasting causes plurisubharmonic seismic vibrations, shaking South LA and West Hollywood.

 Being that I stay up for a long time; days, even (still, at this point in life), I have a keen sense of when things seem to go awry, of slight motions and activities of people around me. 

Today was a particularly strange day, nearly gone by, at this hour - of the “latest” waking period, as I call it, colloquially, in my own estimations. There were significant thunderstorms and rainy activity 😗 umm… yesterday, that is… since I’d not slept last night, as it turns out. <_<…? In any case, there were significant thunderstorms yesterday, and leading up to it, I felt that some sort of barometric pressure was pushing through the locality around me, even affecting me inside of my bedroom. Sometimes I wonder if it’s my ionic mineral supplementation intake, being subsumed by the planes flying overhead, in the jet stream line-of-sight, leading up to LAX Airport’s landing runway. During the day, there’s typically even shadows cast, commonly, over my head, or “in the way” of the sunlight, with the shadows of the planes flickering the light, shining through my window, or sometimes I go out for a cigarette, and I get flashed by the plane’s shadow. It’s enough to cook up some viable paranoia, right? 

So, the barometric pressure is one thing, the storms are another, and the reputation of the area, this being South Los Angeles, makes for a suggestible fable to be run by me, such as that “terrorists” are flexing their might, in opposition to the authorities, and they’re going around, blowing up the water mains, underground. On top of that, the story had gotten so detailed, such as to suggest that much of South Los Angeles was going to be host to a massive sinkhole, like the ones that we hear or read about, sometimes, happening in South America. 

But this evening, as I went out to West Hollywood to do some gig work, I felt a distinct blast; I heard it, as well, and some shockwaves followed the blast, so I reasoned that the blasting must be for the sake of Metro’s subterranean station and terminal outlets, for the private spaces and expanse required to keep the train lines running smoothly, which they do. I must say that hold-ups and delays of the trains are typically trivial in the Los Angeles Metro Train system, and they only last a few minutes, at most. There are two lines being developed, one of them the Crenshaw Line, which would reasonably assume that my area, running parallel to Crenshaw Blvd., would see some shaking, over in my area, of this sort. The other line being developed and worked on, at this point in time, is the expansion of the Purple Line, in to the Westside localities of Beverly Hills and Century City, going up Wilshire. 

So that was it, as far as terrorist plot explosions theories, broken water mains, and sinkholes becoming established. It’s all part of the workweek, in other words. 

The sun sets over rush hour traffic, somewhere in Los Angeles.