Pigeon-watching hotspots to see around town #3: The Central Library High-Flyers Flock.

Downtown Los Angeles architecture is one of the primary lures for tourists and sightseers, and, for bird lovers, the Central Branch of the Los Angeles Public Library has a neat, al fresco pigeon flock, which, just in recent years, discovered a perch, atop the Library's titling signage, on 5th, nearby where the Library's main entrance lies, just up the street. 

The street is lined with young Magnolia trees, of which feature a delightful floral fragrance;

Check out this amazing deal on Amazon, where you can sample the lovely fragrance of the Magnolia tree's summer blooms.

at the time being, the trees flower very sparsely, or not at all, just yet. They're being grown to shape them properly, for their full adult tree form, I figure. There's also some classic street lamps, a former pond (I think), which has been filled up with dirt, and which feature dwarf natal plum shrubbery - it makes for a nice (maybe not the nicest - wood chips?) feeding pen for the birds. 

An exciting meal, with the Central Branch LAPL High-Flying Pigeon Flock.

For people, the ledge surrounding the feeding pen makes for a suitable spot to sit and feed the birds: it's an exciting spot to visit, with gorgeous architecture across the street; various sides of the street - there's the U.S. Bank Building, the Gas Company Lofts, The Millennium Biltmore Hotel, 444 Flower, The Westin Bonaventure Hotel, and, the Library, itself, features notable architecture, itself, for that matter. 

Back when I had my iPad Pro, I caught some great video footage of this flock, from the bird-feeder's perspective, as they spot me, preparing a meal for them. 

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This flock is a somewhat closed form flock of pigeons - the location, despite being quite nearby other flocks of birds, doesn't typically get a lot of newcomers and transient port birds, although there is some mixing and mingling around, of other birds, here and there. I'm not sure where the birds nest, either. 

Check this flock out, when you're in town! They're great birds.

Pigeon-watching hotspots to see around town #2: The Pico Metro Station Parking Lot Refugee Flock

I don't get on (or off) on this Metro train station all that often, but recently, I spotted a refugee flock of pigeons hanging out, here, at the parking lot across the street. Since I was stocked up on bread (some of it was bread with butter), I knew that I couldn't let this flock of birds down; they hadn't always been here, and they may have been on their way in or out of town, to have gathered here. 

The DTLA Pico Metro Station parking lot, featuring a large flock of pigeons. 

Now, I know Downtown Los Angeles' various flocks of pigeons fairly well, to say the least.  I've been coming here to feed the birds, going on 7 years, now. I've spotted some pigeons here, in other recent trips, but nowhere near this many birds have I seen, in this location. It was a notable gathering. I wondered, "are they new? A transplant? (port)? They must be hungry, to be in an unfamiliar spot, gathered like this." I take it upon myself to make sure, (typically), that every bird I come across gets fed, but this was a notable challenge. Most flocks of birds aren't quite this large, in Downtown LA. 

In any case, these birds, some of them a localized flock, whom had been spotted perching atop the luxury highrise buildings across the street, potentially had an advantageous view of the terrain, while they perched, and they could have seen other nearby flocks that had been gathering in other micro-locales of DTLA. Pigeons are made for socialization - the more, the merrier, so to speak. When the flock flies off, sometimes it's a "high-flying" motive about them, where they swoop and swing around, in spirals and in circles, or in figure 8-style, for the sake of quickly drawing attention to themselves, high-flying, as it were, so that nearby and known perching flocks, of a different micro-locale, can catch them high-flying, as a signal of that something exciting is going on, around this commotion, such as meal time. The other nearby flocks would be the ones by the Olympic at Olive Shell Gas Station, the 26th Street / Orthopedic Institute "USC Dumpster Pigeons," and, also, perhaps, some birds from around 7th at Metro Station. There's a chance that these flocks had become neglected, and the newcomers wanted to try out this location, on account of so much foot traffic at the Pico Metro Station. I made sure to look out for this flock again, the next time I rode by, but they weren't there, so I'll have to figure out their schedule, and try to fit them in, sometimes, during the course of a week.

This flock would be an ideal one for sports fans to visit, being that L.A. Live, the Crypto.com Sports Arena, and the Convention Center are all very nearby attractions for pedestrians, which have frequent and regular events happening. 

The birds are a fairly standard flock of Downtown LA: they're not completely shy, and they know that some people will toss them food, if they're visible to passersby. 

The Pico Metro Station Refugee Pigeon Flock, enjoying a meal, on April 19th, 2024, at 3:43 p.m.

This flock would be a good one for people to patronize during the springtime (now) season, throughout summer and in to fall, I suppose, being that it's light out, and pigeons in this area will, most commonly, stay out until 6:30 p.m., while the sun is still out. I just recently found out that pigeons love peanuts 🥜, by the way, so that's a nice and convenient snack food to have on hand for them (or, if you hadn't prepared, beforehand, there's a CVS right across the street. 

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Pigeon-watching hotspots to see in town - # 1: The 7th at Metro Station Pigeon Family.

Here in Los Angeles, pigeons that frequent Metro rail stations are generally nothing new, but don't these novel and sometimes adventuresome pigeons make the stations something out of a storybook? They get to live in the stations, at all times, even in the off-hours. It's a trade off - of convenience, for being housed, so to speak, for security and warmth, essentially. 

2024's 7th at Metro baby pigeon, out at night, looking for a bite to eat. 

His parents roost nearby, overseeing his safety and progress in development. 

In this case, a (literal) small family of pigeons roosts at what could be considered some of the most illustrious of locales in Downtown Los Angeles, CA, with beautifully crafted skyscrapers and trendy malls, all within a block, or so. It's a great place to start out, as a Downtown visitor, and these pigeons serve as (sometimes) nightly ambassadors. Take, for example, baby pigeon, standing there, on his own, in the middle of the sidewalk. He's waiting to see some breadcrumbs tossed at him, or perhaps, some pieces of sweet pastries, or seeds. Baby pigeon is currently in the "sweet baby" stage, where the baby has not yet been abused, and hopefully that will last. 

The pigeon family, here at the 7th and Metro Station, has the tradition, and tourist attraction feature of being night owls. This feature about this small and peculiar family of birds makes for a great nighttime stop, to check and see if the birds are out on the sidewalk, or perching nearby the escalators, where they roost at night. A night owl showing of pigeons is always an exciting sort of bird to observe, since they'd become comfortable in socializing amongst their human caretakers, at odd hours. Being that this street intersection is such a well-known metropolitan foot traffic hotspot, this pigeon's roost serves as a testament to urban avian wildlife's potential; as ambassadors: for nature and for recreation, both. 

The iPigeon cool public mobile charging spots of greater and Metro Los Angeles, California, USA.

From jay.ammon@iPigeon.institute's Google My Maps custom map compilations:

Web link: cool iPigeon free public charging spots of Metro and greater Los Angeles

Wouldn’t it be cool, if it was like Christmastime all year-round, in terms of being capable of plugging in, while venturing around Los Angeles, CA? In some spots, that is the case. Here in this blog, I’m seeking to cover these public and outdoor electricity plug-in offerings, as I set out in reclaiming my life by enjoying more of life on my mobile devices, free from the constraints and hard times that I encounter as a housed person. 

There’s room for a few more people to set out and enjoy these types of endowments for the public; it’s a great way to clear the mind, establish a more objective basis in life, and to enjoy and appreciate what greater Los Angeles has to offer its residents.

———————————

Check out the Google Web App implementation of what was | is the legacy Play Store App known as My Maps, which is also similarly covered in Google Local Guides local lists, yet I'm not quite sure that the latest Google Maps platform is the way in which this information might reach the requisite user base. It's a bit of a token wish-list of undefinable coding cloud compute parameters, of "stuff that" ... well, hopefully, over time, there'll be a well-enough word-of-mouth or a cloud compute user token trigger established; something along those lines. I am the guy working at it, with well-enough intentions. I must say that I don't personally know the person who would offer better, with no strings attached, for the sake of the particularly slighted acute personal crisis breakout demographic, of perhaps having been discriminated against, bullied, or inappropriately targeted, or unwell amongst crowds, or "something neurotic," I suppose. 

The web app implementation interface covers only two locations off of the Gold Line, yet I'll be covering leads at seasonal homeless shelters, acquiring information, and re-establishing the autonomy of the well-connected subsidized phone subscriber persona | identity - the one who had not traded the phone outright for money for personal [essential] or questionable needs, although I have been that desperate myself, at times, I must say. That's a whole other non-issue to have become needful in being established, perhaps, if I'm to take in inventory about everything that passes through my I/O periphery, of as much of the day as I could make of it, whereas sometimes I just don't understand that people are doing this n' that... I had no idea... Pretty cool, ... cool stuff. 

Alright. That's the latest; I'll keep this as one of the centric hub links for establishing various persona marketing potential mates or marketable lifestyles of tech of the enterprising homelessness "thing," of the overarching slake of how life happens to be, not only for myself, but largely because I don't quite understand some things that are told to me, despite appearances of accommodation, otherwise, which would typically leverage over in to the "notably strange" sorts of happenstance resonance tech-advanced-lifestyle blogging and research aspirations, device-mobile, people stealing my devices, sort of thing, and it's pretty confusing, or it's a Buddha's attainment of some 40% American demographic of affinity, a couple | several years ago, according to Pew Research Foundation, of which I'll pull up the link, just momentarily. 

Okay. I had discovered the publication article, in question, on Facebook, memorably, and the date, at that time, was perhaps no later than 2013. This article, which was preceded by much well-received facets of popular culture burgeoned by a rapid expanse of the interest in personal and home luxury, as well as in essential oils and organics boom culture, of that Whole Foods had been touted as the largest grocer in America, with it's affinity and branding model basis in finery and artisan food, health, beauty, nutrition, and sustainability, not to mention animal rights and wellness facets of their corporate model. 

Yoga pants - the ass-blogging photoblog site offshoots of People of Wal-mart « pre-ish » meme-official entity rights establishment, of that "we" or many of us, of a suitably unprofessional non-development culture had slade'd through youthful adulthood now, and then now was going on, like, all the time. At times, believably, we had had chosen those sorts of media outlets, they were "poppin' pussy" popular, and then, perhaps, sick fascination with the grotesque led to real-trauma medical photography-type stuff, and now | then, people simply block out negative experiences, and prefer that better things would befall them, unsuitably professionally so, of an irony, somewhat suggestive of a Freudian child-life "style" « something, » perhaps. Some people would know, and I've gotten some off-basis "Jewish flack" connotations lobbed at me, quite notably so, of an abnormal psychology establishment, of some other establishment which had got turned to confessionals, etc. "stuff." Which I do, personally, just because it's compellingly (well, okay), I have to admit, I was raised quite mostly appropriately. 

The stories of others have yet to establish a contextual text-literacy basis of caring enough to twiddle fingers in to words, such as garbage blog basis that commonly comes to pass, yet somewhat as well, somewhat not quite - if it just didn't, and such n' such, Jewish thing? I didn't really have any idea about it, still somewhat unclear, on my end. Maybe it's not even me, not even knowing about it, but I definitely didn't know about, personally. That's how secretive some of these abnormal psychologies developed, in such commonly textbook suitable nurturing environments. 

I wouldbt, though, and I just didn't. Stuff. Garbage, though, I can get by on garbage, well enough. This isn't really that type of blog, though, but it is open public forum for perusal, as a minimum. I do maintain that I establish as linearly cohesive and development models of breakouts in intelligence formatting, and it tends to nothing, really, ... but non-content stuff sometimes slips the fweef, of supposing I'd just fweef and hang out with people like that. 

"Who wouldn't?" 

On one hand. 

Although - I do get tested for memory role-modeling, and for bash shell-scripting Unix commands, for unpacking and deployment of completely suitable admin resources and libs, if necessary, simply... sometimes just imaginably so. But for the factuality of that it doesn't get done on my end, it also tends to somehow become a problem of other other people, of irrelevant issues, according to the strengths I could be using. All garbage, to speak of. But garbage, I run on, and I find it pretty suitable, in fact. Most typically. 

I dunno, ... what other people do. I like good-looking people, though. Other people, this n' that, yip-yappin', and through speaking on these subjects, I somewhat refrain from caring well-enough for myself. I end up a bum. People assume it's a bum, off hand. It's doing some persona marketing thing of a critter sweater, most currently-status-bum. Searchable bum? Bum-searchable, latest thing, though. I could ... check on the checkin' status of "just maybe" stuff, but if it wasn't suitable for even garbage bum blogging regalia dissemination, it most commonly got a fix up of some attention to it, ... Something like that. Stuff just wasn't getting done, quite properly well enough, on my end, as what the issue ended up being.

-------

Alright. A guy came up and started talking to me. He's pretty normal. He gave me a Men's Fitness magazine. Pretty cool stuff. I have to admit, though, that the oppositional | avoidant characteristics of glossing over some of the identities behind what ended up being garbage blogging, back there, a bit, significantly threw me off, about something that was a topic to blog about. 

Okay. It was the same blog, somehow. The My Maps blog. 

Update to the "Normal Guy" thing.

Update: June 28th, 2022: Flintridge | Foothill Gelson’s Market

The DTLA (CA, USA) police administration dog park pigeon flock, having dinner.

This flock is a somewhat special flock, for demonstrating trusting behaviors, up to this point in time, although I’ve the same behaviors, previously, in some of the other flocks in town - it’s that the flocks become subjected to inappropriate human interventions in their populations by drugging them, catching them, and apparently, intentionally torturing and abusing them by tying strings around their feet and legs. It’s a travesty that this sort of behavior, by people, is still happening, but I’m committed to seeing to it, of that the birds continue to be fed and, with time, I expect that people will refrain from victimizing the town’s birds. It’s currently unknown “just who” is factually perpetrating these crimes, and I’m hoping to raise awareness and seek community solidarity, over time, in assisting in protecting the birds from intentional abuses, for observing the birds’ natural beauty, such as I have captured on video, today, and for recognizing their intrinsic worth as a locality attraction and for the potential of birds to touch people’s lives in perhaps unexpected and transformational ways.

Downtown Los Angeles’ new pigeon babies - season by season (Updating: 2022 - *)

In most cases,

A typical pigeon that a person would come across is simply a standard pigeon. Over he years, however, with some dedication, investment, and care, the creatures become slightly diversified, of their physical appearance, in various ways. Here, in this article, I’ll document some of the images of the young, whom I can identify, of the season’s offerings of pigeon and sparrow babies, of some notable distinction in their appearance, compared to the standard varieties of wild pigeons or sparrows that are to be found, as adults - whom may, themselves, be newly homed or released birds, whereas I also attempt to manage the general day-to-day presence and feeding of the birds, within the Downtown Los Angeles area. I’m beginning this documentation at the end of May, 2022, a well-enough point in the season for babies to have hatched, been fed in the nest, by their parents, and now, they’re capable of getting out and about, and they’re capable of feeding themselves. They would also have taken on enough plumage to demonstrate their fully-adult appearances. 

2022 - Doe eyes and soft pastels, and a squirrel pigeon.

During this season, at the end of May, when I began documenting these birds, for the season’s developments, in the birds’ appearance, I noticed that some of the young, whom I could identify as fledgling pigeons or sparrows, had taken on some development around the eyes, as more pronounced, or outlined - in some cases, nearly decorative and cosmetic changes had seemed to have become established. On one hand, my task management capability here in town is somewhat a quite broad and challenging effort to fulfill - I’ve gotten up my daily small-localities visitations up to a definite 5 areas, whereas there are easily perhaps anywhere from 75-200 or so birds that show up to eat. Some breeders and pigeon specialists are capable of establishing very regimented and impressive defined features in their birds, such as alternating feather color on the wings, for example, but I’m not particularly going for that type of establishment, in these birds - mostly just focusing on keeping them fed. One of the challenges is that the birds seem to be getting poached, or targeted, for capture and abuse - I currently had recently taken in “Virgil,” so-called, a pigeon whom I found, out on the street, about a week ago. I found him with string, hair, and a metal spring tied around both of his feet, and fortunately, I was able to win his trust, take him home, and assist him, as best I could, in removing the objects that were binding his feet, although his skin was already very inflamed around the trauma areas, and the string bound the skin deeply, more than I cared to injure the pigeon with, in attempting to remove the string any further. 

June 2022: Cheetah zazzles and more doe-eyed pigeons.

Three doe-eyed pigeons; one, perhaps, a parent.

The DTLA Civic Center | Grand Park | City Hall Black Lives Matter Occupy Activism Event - Some Notes from Up-Close.

The Black Lives Matter Occupy movement is a slight of concurrent popular culture for many young people in the Greater Los Angeles area, who flock to the locale surrounding Downtown Los Angeles' City Hall, where some folks have taken up establishment of an "Occupy" basis, which is supported by various volunteers, and perhaps, through some local tax dollars, as far as keeping them fed.

One thing is for sure: these people are not here, per se, for the sake of seeking housing, such that many people might presume of a homeless demographic. Rather, these folks are here for an historical sit-in, where the popular movement that has become Black Lives Matter, amidst a tepid backdrop of that COVID-19 reports had not quite faded from the common imagination, or news feed, for that matter.

What's become of the Black Lives Matter sit-in Occupy movement out here, on the lawn, is an aggregation of various common popularly received and news-media outlet covered topics, ranging from the recent Supreme Court's decision on LGBTQ individuals receiving equal rights within the context of the workplace establishment, George Floyd's controversial death at the hands of a police officer, and of Breonna Taylor's untimely death. 

The campers, themselves, are quarantined off, loosely, in their perimeter within the Grand Park Event Lawn, by short metal fencing, where artistic renditions of what matters to protesters are hung, for decoration, and for the sake of offering a voice to the otherwise mostly silent tent camp-in community that's established itself out here, on the lawn. Other than that, the park's daily activities that had been in play, prior to this Occupy movement taking reign over some aspects of the park, go on, regardless of the activism installation that is the Black Lives Matter ongoing protests.

Then, inevitably, at some point in the late afternoon, the activism movement's assembling street marchers take to the roads outlining Grand Park, nearby City Hall. They march and chant, under the directorship of a man with a bullhorn, who leads the group in a collective ideation and evocation of what the purpose and credo of this activist assembly confers, unto the public, within earshot of the movement's manpower and social and civic impetus underlying the group's ideology.

Over in other parts of town, broken windows and shuttered businesses confer a tale of a more sordid assembly establishment, of that which is the trepidation and untimely failures, for some business and retail establishments, for the sake of being incapable of sustainability and basis foundry of keeping faith in the longer-term outlook for business, which has affected establishments across the spectrum of business economy. 

Now, nearly two years later (mid-April, 2022), 

There are some faint echoes of the as-of-yet still somewhat contentious racial unrest, in the society that comprises the Los Angeles, California, USA landscape. Here and now, at the lawn in front of City Hall, at Grand Park, the park is renewing itself, of its former days of people walking their dogs, there’s birds to be fed, and the park is generally open and being used by the public. I didn’t get a chance to connect with anyone who was part of the park’s occupation movement, mostly on account of that there were barriers to communication, such as “actual” physical barriers, as well as that I’d observed some hostility and in-fighting amongst the occupants of the park, during that time. Race relations are still, in some demographics, quite arcane and rigidly defined, or disregarded, in how racism displays itself, still; rearing it’s ugly head in unexpected ways, that it would. As for myself, I am tasked with the premise of that I’m the pigeon-feeding bum, out here, as my most standard self, of coming out to downtown Los Angeles, from my home, in South Los Angeles, yet I still do - here and there, experience a bout of literal homelessness, even though I am housed. I say: it’s on account of discrimination, yet it’s a seething issue of some other obscure nature (somewhat); I call it a lack of sobriety, or maturity, or cultural exposure and tolerance, perhaps. 

On one hand, out here, I generally tend towards that I “don’t” typically experience acts of discrimination, although my housing situation exploits the concepts of that racism still looms large, in various ways in which I can just “simply infer” that people see me as a simple and slight person, made up of my appearance and cultural heritage, which at times, becomes a trifling subject for the “locals” out in South Los Angeles - which is a place of a different sort, from the bustling big city, small town, that comprises downtown Los Angeles, in that - here and there, at times, archaic attitudes persist, which become visible in prejudiced and discriminatory behaviors that I’ve come to have observed. Today, here in 2022 (this article was originally authored on June 25th, 2020), we’ve been on a long journey - through unrest that had began it’s boil, following the civic unrest of many large cities across America, and later, through the more long-standing effects of the civil decrees that were laid out as part of the plan to combat the COVID-19 pandemic. 

My take on what’s left of the dilemma of failing race relations? Don’t make it about race, per se. Make it a topic for open conversation, if need be, but be equitable and just, in speaking of, or on - the matter of race. Many people, in this enlightened age of access to information and culture, burgeoned by the knowledge base that is the internet - slighter and higher levels of intelligence can be pursued, and attained, while greater opportunities are afforded, even still, after the Federal Pandemic Unemployment Award money had been distributed, as well as the economic stimulus payments - all of those things were a boon, to us, as Americans. We are all Americans, in that sense - I believe that we ought to seek a common identity, rather than define ourselves by what conceived of us, perhaps little more than that, as it would come to be seen, I would surmise, in the current day and age, and in to the future, for the fact that we are creatures, now - capable of intelligent design, rather than natural selection, or selective breeding, per se. Let the distinctions and nuances of knowing each other, and one another, be the measure by which we relate unto ourselves, and thereby forge our identities, while keeping true to our American heritage, for all it stands for, rather than seek to discover what makes us different, and thereby perpetuate the disparities between us, as individuals, and as representatives of our culture.

Ask iPigeon.institute: why do my genitals smell like I’m dirty from out of nowhere, lately?

 I’ve been experiencing this phenomenon going on years, at this point, albeit in intervals. The experience of having this sort of debacle befall one’s self is a traumatic and humiliating one, to be certain, because most of us take care to keep ourselves clean. So why does this sort of thing happen? It would nearly seem as though we had somehow had a lapse in consciousness, where somebody had molested us, intentionally wiping their body odor on us, whereas we may have become aware of this; for me, for living out on the streets - it becomes a questionable occurrence, as well: then I clean myself, and it ends up happening all over again, whereas only a short time had passed, and there had been no established belief of that I had had a lapse in consciousness, or a strange encounter. Is it epilepsy? How could the continuity of time have been so seamlessly thwarted? It would, on the surface level, imply that there is a state of warfare, here in The Militarized Zone of DTLA and surrounding localities, of an unimaginable cost. There may be this sort of unspoken, ongoing strife and expenses wrought upon society, from where we stand, and stay, here, while intimations of “perhaps” truths are lobbed at us, some of them, an attempt to evince belief, others, to challenge us, of our beliefs, and some things that seem beyond belief. 

So, what is the truth? 

On some level, it’s important to simply just not freak out. Just recognize, or look it up: we do live in The Militarized Zone here. I didn’t know it until I started studying for my A+ certification, and I got the big book, for my studies. It seemed a somewhat aside note, yet somehow conceded, here, in this premise, for the techies. For the tech guys to understand. To gloat over it, or to disavow it would suppose that they’d been lying in this book of standard literature that many of us (perhaps mostly guys, this being the tech field and industry) had studied. I never went through with taking the test and certifying, but this inclusion of information was a preeminent and formative small facet of truth that was imbued in to my life. 

To continue, upon “not freaking out,” it simply “makes sense” that we’re here, by our own choice and volition, and many of us had been indulging in the vice industries, here. On some level, it’s somewhat “allowed;” even included, in the list of startup business licenses that are available out here, in the city of Los Angeles (at some point, perhaps I’ll come across this moment, once again, in my own startups pursuits, and I’ll include the link; I feel that it would be a bit of an arcane lore thing to rediscover, and cite, at this point in time. At least the article will have been written, already, though). 

The perhaps more sensible truth, that I’ll offer, being that casual remote sensing acquaintanceships and “portrayals,” I’ll say, are common - particularly for a guy like me, who tries to appear fetching and attractive. For example, an attractive young lady, about my age, or so, passed by me, as I was bummed out on the ground, earlier today. She was walking her dog. The supposition that I’d been attracted to her was gleaned, via intelligence, observing all of my interactions, feelings, thoughts, and emotions, all the time. Just maybe, she was attracted to me, as well. I personally choose to tread carefully, on this sort of context, since I know that I’m a bum. So how does this sort of thing happen? Is she a prostitute, smelling her day’s partner, and it becomes transmutable upon my own personage, for that a compellingly charming flirtation episode unraveled itself, as though she knew that I’m the pigeon-feeding bum? What did she really feel? was one of the suggestions lobbed at me. She was sociably a superior to me, as many women of this sort are: they get at the truth of sociability, in regards to many types of guys, and of girls who are like them, who live out this sort of prostitution-based lifestyle. 

Or am I being stalked by guys who are upset that they’re outside, and there’s a handsomer bum out here, being a narcissist, and they somehow command this capability? I certainly doubt that I had an unbeknownst (and, for that matter), commonplace sort of genitalia-smell exchange sort of sicko molestation sort of quick encounter, of a reputation that I don’t know about, happening to me. That would seem to imply an inordinate demand upon people of a type of cost and primacy basis, of being somewhere at a timely-enough jaunt, such to render me a more humble and hapless man, whereas I don’t really deserve that sort of outcome, in life. Sure, I had once (only once, though), been an ass-grabber, and I’d “somewhat” molested women, and all of these sorts of events were, in fact, consensual activities, and I was just a guy who’d been brought up, in part, of a detrimental nature, to have given me this sort of psychotic abandon and sense of entitlement of inappropriateness. So I did this sort of thing, many years ago, back in my youth. I don’t talk much to guys, so I don’t really know how prevalent this agreement of seeking and discovering a prostitute, for patronage, actually happens. Much of what I hear is conjecture, simply put.

I just feed the sparrows. I won’t deny that resonance warfare tactics exist, and I also wouldn’t quite suppose that people “don’t” commonly hear voices in their head, and I’d somewhat believe that people do establish face to f1ce relationships, perhaps sometimes, only, based on positive affirmations and positive conditioning that occurs, as a consequence of having been coddled, by what amounts to a support mechanism, of the intelligence community, that transpires, whereas I feel that the excuse is that we’re shy around each other, and perhaps not ready to really take the plunge, whereas more bold men, better for it, for a moment, or for a more long-term outset about things, are the ones who gain inroads in to establishing romantic relationships at this point in time, and so far. I feel that it’s well enough if I get people to acknowledge me and smile, perhaps, and it boosts my self esteem a little, when that happens. A truly serendipitous occasion, or opportunity, is a much more rare thing, although it more typically winds up in producing a long-term relationship, more fruitfully, and surely so, whereas I can imagine that it’s difficult to convince someone to not continue forth in life, as a prostitute. It’s awrr rawr rough and tough, not being a prostitute, I imagine. 

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. 

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. 

Fitting in, as the paranoid schizophrenic narcissism movement’s poster boy mascot.

People who are adequately properly acquainted with me 

know that I have a hard time getting out of my head, when it comes to sitting down and socializing. I have to admit, I’ve been off, for a good stretch of time, given right now, and the months leading up to this point in time (Summer 2021), and there’d been little hope of seeing a clearing through the Los Angeles, CA “fog.” 

Here, in the militarized zone (TMZ) of Los Angeles, which is tech worker knowledge 101 (or, to be precise, “A+” certification priory of knowledge base, we, for one thing, don’t wake up, per se, in the morning. It just happens, eventually, as the sorry trudge through remaking ourselves, in professionalism, in a world where our Apple devices can’t capably we’ll be self-serviced, for one thing, and nobody much… well, everyone else, let’s say, would care to do the service on their devices for themselves. 

Okay. Actually, it’s not fog. At least, not that I could put my finger on it. Maybe the photo doesn’t capture it all that well, and it seems like a clear photo, above; from here to there, with my plain eyes, in viewing, the half-block, or so, distance from my vantage point, to the buildings nearby, I’ll say, are a bit “not quite” the standard “clear,” as could be said about “seeing things” and what might be expected, based on reasonably good vision. 

It’s easier to see the disparities in clarity, in the short-distance atmosphere of the place (DTLA) at night, through the early morning, lately, and I just happen to receive punishing intimations and suggestions, in my remote sensing assignment, laid upon myself (this started happening in 2012, right around this time of year, in fact) of all sorts of “me, myself (Jay)” types of storylines in my head, and it makes me really neurotic and somewhat casually dismissive of others, if they happen to break form with attending to the present moment, and with a purpose-driven mind about conversation, if anything’s to be said at all, about anything, for that matter, and as for myself, I’m readily one to admit that I’ve problems, and it’s “complicated,” let’s say. 

For example, I met a young lady last night, and she was a fawning courtesan to me, upon passing my way. I was digging through the garbage, trying to find some food, and there was a tasty soft drink in there, which I enjoyed, and she took to me, quite effectively, and I was drawn in to the prospect of making her acquaintanceship. We ended up speaking on friendly terms, well enough, as she acted as though she were enamored by me, but there was something just, perhaps, simply “in the way” of things. For one thing, she wanted to fix my recyclables collecting trait about myself, and she kept telling me that she would hold my bag for me, as we eventually left our initial place of meeting, and we went out for a walk (I wanted to go to the grocery store, for food; perhaps a bit extravagant, given that there was good food in the trash for me, that I hadn’t gotten to investigating and clearing for eats, by the time she met me). I do a standard gentleman, no problem, well enough, when I meet a new acquaintanceship, and I’ve been fortunate enough to have “not really” been an on-site, ITF, misfortunate stalking target, per se, lately; I don’t know what it is. Had they gotten been “talked to” about that sort of thing, or do I just look better? Is it my fragrance that I’m wearing, or is it because I put on some weight and muscle? Maybe it’s a bit of all of those things, although I am commonly troubled by how I look, facially, in the mirror, lately, on account of that I don’t get to sleep as much as I readily aught would sleep, give, how bothered and troubled I am, in my head. 

These developments,

I would say, would trouble anyone. Anyone who’s validly a peer to me, and many-to-most of them had abandoned me, and taken on a purpose about me, of disregarding that I have any decency about me, and all sorts of complaints and claims attesting to some sort of beliefs about me arise, in the dialectical, and I wind up being the center of people’s attention. Granted, it’s nice to be paid attention to, sometimes, and it’s even more delightful to win out, in intelligence, when somebody shows up to insult me, but the public is the greater determiner, I’ll say, of what’s truthfully valid and appropriate up-to-the-minute debriefing and slight course for facing judgment, from others, whereas I simply “hear,” or… 🤔 <_< “perceive,” I’ll put it, to be more appropriate, to the point, these various points of contention from former peers, who show up, in my “privacy” of my attending mind, at issue, and they simply never reach out on Facebook, or whatever, or respond, when I look them up and query them about how they’d been acting, in my head, which I happen to believe that they do, since I took on this schizophrenia sort of burden, back around this time of year, to be precise, tracing back to 2012. 

All sorts of wild stories and painful memories. 

Why not just admit to that you feel that way about me? I can fix it, if it’s a problem.

But the social ladder equivalent of being the gorilla’s silverback male, “given me,” endlessly (since back in 2012), shows back up, and I’m significantly troubled by what’s come of things, of my school days peers, and what they claim about me, or claim is significant topic of issue about me, and sometimes, I make them look truthfully, woefully, foolish (or worse), and I must say, I’ve got quite the penchant for the spoken or written word, and I’ve got a ton of great experiences to talk about, (if only) people would “actually” speak to me, which this girl, (getting back to the thread I had initiated, just a moment ago) was doing, with me. I had to eventually ditch her, though. Once, and then I came across her, again, and I’ve got it awrr rawr rough and tough, sometimes, with how I truly make a practice and discipline about life, to do life as I was brought up to be - a good baptist Christian man, since my boyhood, and stuff; I’ve got to make amends on what I’d been led astray for, in life, and presented of myself; my superficial self, amongst people, although I’d never quite all that much, to be honest, really betrayed my Christian upbringing. 

So I try to tame these wild ones - awrr rawr, rough and tough, with some patience, common sense, British intellect and know-how, of the cultural attainments made, on their part, given my Cantonese mother’s upbringing, and such: 

It’s just… how it is. Look it up. The British managed and ruled over Hong Kong, until 1997, I believe, imparting the early modern period and western traditions upon the Chinese, in Hong Kong - for 150 years (or so), until they returned Hong Kong to the Chinese government, at which time, it became… I dunno, “Chinese,” more so, (again; perhaps), and we happen to live in a Los Angeles, CA, where racial slights and slurs, and awrr rawr - rough and tough insults and “most casual” beliefs and practices of superiority and dominance features significantly, in the common mores and cares of society at large, and I’m one of them - the Cantonese; at least, a half of me. The other half is Lithuanian descent (my father, quite reliably - resembles the recent United States of America’s Vice President, Mike Pence, to be sure). 

Anyways, we all know how slight the Chinese get treated as, out here, and perhaps it’s largely a globalized perceptual basis that’s become familiar to many - the detriment to progress and the establishment of vast achievements and efforts put in to eliminating civil rights abuses, of others, and we’d “supposedly” (at least, in the courts, and in the minds of good Christian types of people, in America) gotten the slights, slurs, and casual insulting beliefs of our people straightened out, about many sorts and types of people that come to exist, in America, and that’s the primary basis of this country, to a large degree, on one hand. 

It just sucks, and I broke my hand, last month, punching the wall, exercising great lengths in patience and non-aggression, whereas I’m bound by the law, and - I’m on probation, on top of things, so if I mess up, again, in allowing physical violence to come of me, as for how others are treated, in life, I’m duly and highly susceptible to becoming remanded, if it gets around to that the police get called to attend to the issue, and I don’t much care to take a chance with that sort of thing. It’s a two year sentence that I was released, on conditional terms, and then, I didn’t follow through with anything, because I’d been bothered, in my mind, (schizophrenia), from back then (2017, or so), till now - fairly constantly, as a chronic and debilitating issue. 

Try it (not really, though <_<…) - breaking your hand against the wall, as an undisciplined fighter; as the angry person. I’ve got  a plate and pin, in my strong hand, and it was a one-two punch, that it was, this time around, but my weaker hand didn’t have all that I thought of myself - turns out. It’s healing up nicely, well enough, now, though. I’m a bit ambivalent about it. On one hand, I like the tough guy, scars, and such, sort of facets and traits about me, although I’m not quite… let’s say, “not disturbed,” of the mind, to attend to my higher purpose, and due diligence, to, like, the gym, or proper exercise, and stuff. I just go out, and I binge on drugs, and that’s obviously not allowed. I just feel that I need it. Not every drug, yet I’m woefully a habitually methamphetamines abuser, although I’m set on the self-maker statement, of my formative self esteem, and aspirations, of that I’m constantly trying to quit, and maybe - this time around, as for today - I’m going to do it properly, since I hear about such horrible things going on, and I don’t really care to elaborate on things, because of the degree of disgust that would be involved, about stuff, if I made it real, by talking about it. 

I feel like, maybe… some people care, and some people… just care “otherwise,” and significantly obsessively and abusively so, and I broke my hand against the wall, because I’ve entrained myself as a significantly astute Christian man, against doing life, of aggression, that. I could, …

but that would just spoil my self-affirming beliefs of that I could really do something in life, and I meet such great people, in my mind, and if only, at that, and violence, as a basis, isn’t all that much an appropriate, or date-worthy sort of topic to even touch upon - I can speak on so many other good and appropriate contexts, such as my feeding the birds thing, and the art associated with it; that’s all good and appropriate, enough - sort of topic that could, perhaps, … hmm. How to say it… I dunno. I’ll let others decide for themselves, and I’ll have things my way, and see how things go. 

I don’t really know what to say… if you don’t talk to me, about anything but abusive sorts of stuff to say about someone, and I know I look bad, lately (facially), sometimes, … and if these people take drugs all the time, … like they “do…” - let’s be real here. This type of behavior must, and could only be explained by drug abuse, and for keeping up with me, and I look so poorly, of the face, and stuff, … but that’s me. I try to do stuff to make up for things. 

I guess that’s all, for now. I’ve got stuff to do today. It’s Monday. Work schedule, and work week, sorts of stuff. 

But the blasting, going on, and the disturbances, and stuff… I dunno. I can’t fix everything - especially if people keep messing with me, and then, if I just couldn’t possibly like you, right now, … like, for reals, then just go away. “I’m gonna leave, now:” sorts of stuff. And that’s okay.