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Showing posts with label Google My Maps. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Google My Maps. Show all posts

Thursday, June 29

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.

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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

Thursday, August 25

iPigeon.institute City Business Tax works project - Plik-plok slabs of Greater Los Angeles, CA, USA.

An updating and follow-up astute job project profile, hosted on Google My Maps.

The project is supported by private corporate sponsorship “potential” (somewhat; I’d rather not disclose details). Much, or “potentially” all of the ongoing and updating job site materials are and or will be provided at iPigeon.institute’s burden of paying fair market value-basis locality (ZIP Code) use tax, which is equivalent to the sales tax rate (currently 9.50% [2022]), which I report and pay quarterly (try to, although I’ve been running behind, because of extraneous distractions). 

The project’s basis is founded upon the concept of supporting accessibility, within public spaces, and sometimes gray-area private property, when necessary - it seems to go over alright, when it’s me showing up and doing the work, on my own. 

Plik-plok slabs are an unfortunate consequence of various possible origins, sometimes they seem to arise out of public dissent and activism displays, such as uncommon traffic flows, both on streets, and on the sidewalks - showing up as fault lines, cracks, and hoisted slabs - for unknown reasons, they simply don’t all get tended to. In a .eco sense, it’s an unkind and exclusionary social ecology, where manufacturing and industrial verticals, as institutions that we all live in, and depend on - coming to a point of failure; many times, these visible markers of instability and troubled minds, perhaps, show up, disappointingly, at the outset of major work projects just within days, having been completed. 👀

In any case, for a pigeon-made man, that I am, on most days, I do a lot of pigeon-checking of the grounds, and, from recently having done cart-life, for a few weeks, or so, I can attest that these cracks are both hazardous fall risks, and the circumstances lend themselves to exclusions of disabled or otherwise burdened individuals, as well as the general public - who could deny that sometimes, even standard pedestrians fall victim to slight uneven surfaces in the pavement of the sidewalk, or for hoisted slabs, etc., causing an uneven grade to persist. 

Being that some of my internalized dramas that I receive as communications, of “some” sort (I at least perceive these things), I reasonably could stand to be the person to fix the faults within the spirit of my .eco umbrella, or within one of iPigeon.institute’s other arms of workflow concepts and formative design (really, this project could be a scrumbwitsies.us project, somewhat categorically proper, would that have been the case, but I can’t currently afford to run email addresses and enterprise features on each of my four websites that I currently (August 2022) manage and administer.

Have a look at some of the various job sites that I’ve caught sight of, and can attend to, and check back for news of the job sites having been satisfactorily repaired, as well as ongoing updates as to how long the repairs persist, as well as some on-the-ground corroboration and analysis as to why the repairs could have possibly failed or have had been thwarted.

For example, just “current moment,” a man with a high-pitched, tense yelling rant profile, commenting on “government” and “mother fuckers,” as red flag signals of someone having come to believe that they’re in control of something, or suitably reaching someone…

Even so, I sometimes try to step in, if I can figure out if there’s some way I could possibly stop the person, in moments like these, yet I’ve commonly fallen short, for the fact of that the person’s type of neurological disorder is conceivably beyond the sufferer’s capable mind’s resource, in accessing rationality, to calm themselves down. 

For now, I’m working on these plik-plok slab job sites - numerous that they are, as people would obviously notice, for the fact that much nicer parts of town feature better slabs, more consistent grading, and newer-looking materials on the sidewalks. I’m not suitable to fix most street-types of problems, so I’m focusing on the sidewalks, just to keep things simple, and since these things seem to have not had any update, and for the fact that I’m capable of doing this stuff. Sometimes, fun things happen along the way.

Saturday, May 30

A methodology of choice in movement patterns within the context of collecting recyclables.

A simple photo-aided workflow of how I « most effectively » "could" establish a search inquiry in to the trash cans around a formative establishment of a recycler's good fortune: a well-traveled and well-patronized gas station establishment, such as the Shell station at Olympic at Grand, in downtown Los Angeles. 

The gas station is placed at an impeccable location - right up the street from the Staples Center, where sporting and entertainment events are common. I'd commonly discover rich caches of discarded recyclables in the trash, for example. Sometimes food. On a couple of occasions, a patron of the gas station would offer me charity. A man, who called himself Baba, had chatted me up, one time. He told me that I seemed like a good person, as I dug through the trash at the gas station. He offered me some change. The Indian Subcontinent people can be endearing, at times, as this man was, in his persona about me. He related to me in a spiritually enlightened sense. 

Here, I had left the gas station, and I set out to do a full survey of the « recyclables » area, as I was intent on seeking out, and discovering - all the recyclables that I might find, and collect, on my outing, for the night. Perhaps I had an endeavor to pursue; a bill to pay, an aspiration for the coming morning, perhaps. 



The next block over is Olive, I believe. This slight locale features an up-and-coming corporate identity and persona establishment, with the Oakwood corporate housing complex seated next to a Starbucks. The height of developing adults' expression of self-esteem in the confidence of their burgeoning professionalism careers. Here, in this trash can, I'd typically discover nearly-to-wholly-eaten meal packaging, drinks from Starbucks, and hard Seltzer's, which are common recyclables to encounter in the trash, for the fact that drinking alcohol in public is illegal. Do the patrons of the trash can |slight| locality conscientiously disburse of their cans, after drinking them inside? [the car? ... perhaps?]. 

Maybe. I, as a recyclables collector, would hope so. On one hand, for my own benefit, but also to engender the notion that such recycling jaunts are a venture establishment of the overseers of the Grand-Central-|ing| of the schedule rotation of who the up-and-coming aspirational homeless ones are, of the recyclables-collecting sort. It's a semaphore development locality, in this neighborhood; somewhat bordering South Park, and just up the street, on this one, some eclectic and clichey small cottage establishments that made it out of the garage, or apartment complex - in to the relatively walking-distance-capable campus identity that a dedicated walker could suit, for the sake of establishing a local guides locality and persona marketing identity suitable for accommodating some leisure time, of the tech and lifestyle establishment afforded by the Google Maps and Contribute arms of the Google umbrella of companies and entities afforded by Google. Doing local guide "stuff" around town will definitely work the walking muscle, for the square mileage that DTLA is; although I say that it's all walking distance. I figure that I can check this trash can out, on some nights, and in the interim, establish some publishing merit towards a « perhaps » readership and participatory contingency of "people who talk to the Cloud Platform identities - the overseers and administrators of the City Quadrants: in a civic center where 1 or 2 streets "over" could be a completely different vibe, it's important to timely acknowledge and homestead the locale that one lives in, in a place like DTLA. I feel that the USC-large presence that's been establishing itself, through the Keck Medical Center, and the USC-labeled former AT&T highrise, is a demographic that's largely included in the Cloud Platform civic and governmental development prospectuses of the overseeing city controllers, whom a fond former acquaintance had related to me as a significantly impressive technological operation, behind the office doors, somewhere. 


Then, across the street, there's another trash can. This place, next to it, is a kitschy dive bar, or something. It's kind of a dog-poop trash can, but I checked it, on this night, and I was duly rewarded, for my efforts, even in spite of the fact that it's typically a dump and poop trash can. 


There's four trash cans at this intersection. One on each corner. The one at the corner outside this [seeming] city administrative building is largely likely the same story as the last trash can, as far as poop goes. I checked it, and I believe that I found some more riches of recyclables here. 


This is the last trash can, seen for the conquering of the intersection, by the recycling bum, [also a mobility-lifestyle techie-trekker]. This trash can had some wealth of some discarded stuff in it, for sure. 


The point is, is that, in Grand-Central-|ing| the semaphore of the slight locale, here; somewhat subdued, within the context of the recycling bum persona; yet rich, behind the scenes, of the stories of the people who patronize the trash cans of the intersection here - which is a fortunate one to « hotspot » for recycling's sake, in that it's conceivably trying and difficult to search out every trash can of all of DTLA for recyclables, yet it's a reasonably good jump off point of an outset and basis of a recycling bum identity, which reaps the rewards as such, miniscule in fiduciary scale ad it might be - it endows the partaker in a more rugged and well-heeled, more sustainable and pervasive identity of homesteading one's way in to appearing to be a valid local, which is an enviable pursuit to succeed in, in the high-threshold rental basis of the apartment lofts and condos of South Park, DTLA, as well as the furnished corporate housing establishment that is Oakwood (I believe that they are the primary corporate housing establishment, nationwide, last I heard). They do furnished and short-term leasing, on a more choicey budget scale than a well-situated budget, of establishing locale identity in a persona of young-life professionalism, as I'd formerly discovered, and lived out, as a renter of the Marina Del Rey Oakwood apartment complex branch of the company's several offerings throughout the greater Los Angeles area. 

Maid service, too. 


The point is that, in proper methodology, in data-scrumming; here, recyclables from the trash cans, context, basis, intent, and Grand Central semaphore development contingencies, such as seen in more refined establishments, such as cloud computing, are portrayed, in the scope of the trash cans, for the recyclables - for what it's worth, the seeker who goes the distance: here, it's only four corners of an intersection - gets the rewards, at least sometimes. 

In executive and administrative functioning, it's important to viably monetize every moment and movement about and around completing a task. The developers of civic establishment and zoning do the ground work, and corporate enterprise provides the visionary paths through which people live out the meaningful pursuit and outlook of their lives, meanwhile also having the potential to affect others within the locale. 

Neglecting suitable and viable monetizable facets of an archetypal city quadrant, or data set, of a subject-contingency, is sure to suit all of the unlikable facets of neglect, in the first place. 

The recyclables aren't going to collect themselves, after all. 

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