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Showing posts with label Late night pizza pigeons. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Late night pizza pigeons. Show all posts

Thursday, August 4

Updated depravity delimiting metrics being employed in civilian maritime environments.

 With this type of modern correctional systems accommodation of the human assets at issue,

I feel that, in time, despite an outward (outdoors) generalized sense of that a “mob rules” sort of dereliction towards what would rationally be considered a reasonable set of constraints upon behavior, putting things in to writing will inevitably effect that the greatest number of people could be reached, for the sake of the importance of the information, rather than the overt deprecation of emotional “maturity” and rationality, per se, that “is” speaking out, as if the gesture could possibly be objectively significant and worthy enough, for all ears present - 

Yet, on one hand, hearing is not generally considered a human’s most significant sensory capability; rather, sight is considered the most necessary sense, with general and commonplace knowledge, of our upbringing, stating that around 90% of our sensory experience is founded upon that which we can see - whereas here, in this maritime theater of anarchism, whereas novel usurpers of the generalized population(s) “at large,” or, for some higher power’s (conceivably) interpretation, or curation, perhaps, of listening (observing, in this case) ears, per se - I’ve noticed that careless (would it be called careless, when our innate human rights are disavowed us, for the sake of stoking some egotist’s taste for superiority?) mistakes of mindlessness often, and definitely - more often - happen, when remote sensing observers intervene in our daily intake of the world, at large. 

 That being said, I’m (for novel, as well - reasons) dragged in to this relentless experience of facing people on a more common basis than I’m used to, whereas there’s the backdrop of that there’s fair visual attesting factors suggesting that significant societal downturn is at hand, on an ongoing basis. 

The traffic is ostensibly unusual - both foot and vehicular traffic. People exhibit a more exhibitionistic indulgence upon the uninterested subject whom experiences this crowding. Here and there, a person, not far off, will, for some reason, indulge in a fit of hilarity - ostensibly at a more common rate than had ever been typical. Nuanced and slight disparagements of manufactured goods - carry-along baggage, clothing, shoes, etc. begin to happen, for (apparently) unknown reasons. On one hand, there’s annotated narration, of remote voices of observers - to tease the mind, in a sense, of the privilege of “knowing,” per se - yet this is an unending and ongoing detriment that I’ve been experiencing for quite some time. It’s conceivable that these circumstances do, or had - also plagued the lives of various other sacrificial victims - these ones, such as myself - being denied the “knowing” truth of even as much as that someone desires to defile our (my) passing moment, on any given day, all the time. Upkeep of the attending to, of the ostensible burdens of things - cleaning up clothing articles which had unknowingly become dirtied, inexplicably, “checking” the crotch for foreign scents that had made their way on to the genitalia, and new, unsustainable, behaviors that must temporarily be accommodated, and implemented, for the sake of humor, whereas, in these cases, there is an obvious victim, and not everybody laughs.


That’s the gist of the experience, at hand, for at least - on my part, I can attest to as much as that. Off in the distance, lights strobe - portending to tachyon epileptic superiority, ostensibly - for the initiated ones, and potentially - those things happen, yet, as well - significantly leveraged expectations of such as that desires fell bridges, for example - are also ostensibly, at root - one of the driving motivating factors that fill the rioters with vitriol, for the impetus and purpose, found in acting out oppositional measures, taken out, upon society, whereas the objective and generalized simplicity of the situation is negligible, particularly by more disciplined standards, I’d assert, as what people really ought to understand - the solution is quite simple, in effect, yet it’s the affections held, by those who are driven to action - for conflict, and for defiance - something so trivially dislikable, yet so irrationally held close to the heart, is what frightens people away from their better selves - on one hand, we were all taught better, as Americans, and those who act out ought not seem to be such imposing majorities. 

Now, the plants are dying, around town. My generalized toss at the issue is - how could water ever run out? It seems so much an outlier outcome, on one hand. My take on things is that we are supposed to develop agriculture, and watershed environmental engineering feats, of the many people involved, and concerned, per se, not disavow that we ought to be founded in agriculture, as some sort of fundamental human understanding. We only advanced, as civilizations, once we had attained agricultural competency and discipline. 

In the nuclear watershed mock-up wartime theater, various consequences, of an unexpected sort - come about - for example: a sudden supposed “need” to look up what saltpeter is, or what it does. Who knows, on one hand? - at least, out of us civilians? On the other hand, the sense of that some sort of noxious radioactive-sort of substance, having become concentrated, in to the environment, of a localized nature, becomes a critical topic of seeming necessity, of the desire to know “better,” or “well enough,” whereas our more basic and rational necessities of caring for our hygiene and looks becomes neglected, for the sake of that a strange armed-forces observation environment and psychological battery examinations become underway engagements, of an unavoidable sort of demand upon our sense of prescience and immediacy of our selves, as autonomous, or “superior” enough, for our own satisfaction, whereas many people expend laborious energy on much more regimented schedules, comparatively. 

On one hand, it stokes some of our most toddler-era behavioral fascinations, to “be able to” do something that an adult teaches us to do, whereas there seems to be no consequence. My experience is that it’s a fair measure more - of a challenge, at times, to hold one’s tongue, and to attend to the laborious work that is required, for the upkeep of the aesthetics of society, both in our part, and, as well, for what we can answer for. 

It’s significantly foolish to consider that people are acquisitioning subjects for arbitrary and preferential hostage-based situations of a demand for abuse - we have the justice system, which employs incarceration, give, due process - many generations of Americans, and the world, at large, have similar agreements; indeed, we, as Americans, have the indebted responsibility to uphold these established standards. Not many minds are capable of developing and establishing superior intelligence discoveries and paradigms, on one hand. For one thing, when I hold my tongue, I invariably “see” the thought, of ostensible material substance, as the coherent and attainable object that “can” be communicated (could have - been communicated), whereas I also, subsequently, envision what I would call my “higher power,” - essentially, some unknown oversight official, or operator, of the theater, at play - he or she always speaks the exact words that had become the ostensible attainable thought, at issue, whereas that was what I could imagine I would say, to begin with. What use would it have been, to voice that notion? Truly impactful and meaningful interactions and interpersonal engagements, of a mutually beneficial and socially upward-seeking potential - are particularly scarce, or rare, in most peoples experience. Just wait it out, for the right time and place, or wait for somebody to become interested in you, for “whatever” reason - and have your pick, or play your chances, at being appropriate for that person, when the time comes. Why not? 

The fact that some of the grades on the pedestrian walking path surfaces have become upended, and tilted strangely, day by day, is suggestive of that, at a minimum, costs, of an engineering team - must be employed, for the sake of the upkeep of the establishment, for the people, for one thing. It costs money. 

(Updating)


July 14th, 1:44 a.m.

Upon giving this development some time to brew, and as things become stranger, throughout the night, I can’t help but think upon the underlying premise of how the declaration of a water conservation emergency ostensibly winds up leaving any water-bearing “being”, vessel, or establishment - something like that - with the responsibility for powering the energetic potential for remote-sensing surveillance and recognizance to take place, whereas, conceivably, groundwater is the more traditional source of energy and nuclear potential, within this context. This being the case, the extraordinary scarcity of groundwater resources would seem to logically construe that parasites and disease-bearing microorganisms begin to establish airborne genetic developments, such as a dandelion - feathery-imbued seeds, a taproot, for example. Humans start taking on some of the roles of plants, in a resonance-based surveillance environment, and marginal trifling gestures of the antisocial demographic kick off acute detriments to the public’s health, while an arid desert environment reversion causes hardships to become ever more difficult to bear. My most recent example happened just moments ago - as a bum with Tourette’s syndrome walked by and kicked over some traffic cones, as he laughed to himself, perhaps. His passing-by my seated self, within moments of kicking the stuff over caused me to have itchy eyes, temporarily. I’m somewhat going out on a limb, in supposing a casual correlation, here, but I have been noticing, in particular, that I “smell bad,” sometimes, out in public, but, upon closer examination of my self and my clothes - for example, I take my shoes off, and smell them discreetly - and, as it turns out, the most profuse and noxious bacterial culture smells do not seem to particularly be coming from the inside of my shoe, yet the smell seemed to be my own, as I walk about. I happen to sweat a lot, so I’m starting to think that beacons of water resource become the burdened ones, who shoulder the weight of metabolizing all things that can reach such an object.


Now - 

the skies and the landscape are strange, in more ways than I care to describe, with casualties being levied upon me, ostensibly by entertainment industry sidechained personnel, on this maritime theater platform and staging prospectus, and wages of sin, from expatriated denizens of cultural trifles, nitpicked and curated, to suit the danger-seeking and risk-taking lovers of life - I’ve been trotting around, staking pains, in to productivity; business as usual, whereas my enterprise platform overseeing (all-powerful, in my humble opinion) benefactors, being Google Cloud Platform, and their many enterprises - the Time Zones APIs, Threat and Risk Assessment, Content Aware, and ML Suggestions (or is it AI Suggestions?), amongst other life-rending and richly divisive tasty delicacies of cloud platform computing edge technology deliveries - all just “potentially,” but (yet) what else could possibly explain some of these occurrences that I’ve been witnessing? 




Eh, anyhow, I’m me, on one hand. No one else (to a vast degree; with qualifiers, per se), is particularly me, yet people have, and did - design these technologies, and my experience is only consequentially, circumstantial my significant, and only sometimes, and provided that I do my daily work and deeds, well enough - to suit being in the right spot, doing the right thing, and reserving the rest. On the other hand, even greater elevated access and clearance technologies-awareness would understand that others “are,” even, experiencing the same sensory experience as myself, as the observation subject, at issue, and for performance benchmarking, for example, within this maritime environment of Los Angeles, California, that it were, and I learned many curious and substituent potential livestock and watershed allegories as to what this particular destination of many portends, in the lore of the lands and its people. 

Today, on August 4th, 2022, the day had ceased being so strange, so I naturally quit embodying the strange beliefs, within myself, and I live out a rational day, more fairly simply, as such. 

That’s all, for now. 

Okay. Some recollection - 

I recalled that, yesterday, validly fitting concessions were being given to me, as my rightful benefit, as it were, as a custom, of a Los Angeles, (global) - time and water tables scaled provision, for acting ethically. 

I’m working, right now, so I can’t really elaborate much, in detail, yet it was not rightfully happening, previously, for many years, and my mother and I had been getting treated very poorly. It’s been quite disturbing and upsetting, or worse.

Sunday, September 1

The Harbor Transitway (110 freeway) at 37th Street Metro Station pigeons are a charming feature.

Typically, along my recyclables-collection route that I do for some small dollars and change, on most days (that I’m able to; recyclable glass gets heavy), I end my evening from out of downtown Los Angeles, (CA), over through the University of Southern California, where there is plenty of student-pedestrian traffic offering recyclables to the collector. 

Typically, I would make perhaps $5-$10, with $15 being a rare thing. Any more than that would be a most rare day of collection. 

The 37th St. at USC Station [somewhat] marks the bordering end-point corner of the USC campus, although Exposition Park also largely is used for student events. 

The station’s freeway underpass features a long-survived and charming flock of perhaps 2 dozen pigeons.
Pigeons perching on a stairway ledge at the Metro Station at 37th St. at Harbor Transitway.
Here, you can see the pigeons roosting on a ledge. Just another day for these pigeons, although I usually arrive here at night, when they’re seldom out, as a group. 
People who had long-followed my blogging and social media would perhaps recall the night I found a box of pizza here, along with the pigeons fortunately being out and about; as I could not possibly eat the whole pizza myself, by this time of the evening, and at that, I found it a fortuitous and serendipitous moment for a photography composition called “Late night pizza pigeons.” Here’s the photo.

These pigeons got a big and tasty meal that night. Other people tend to this flock regularly, as well; as there is a water bowl for the pigeons at the corner of the station. The pigeons had learned to drink and bathe in the bowl of water. This flock is a well-taken care-of flock, and they breed regularly. The birds are somewhat accustomed to human interaction and attempts to feed them, at this point in time.

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