An ad hoc public social work service providership offering for establishing and verifying homelessness identity and basis for future housing placements.

It struck me, as an imposition of a potential problem (that people might have about me - here, and there; and continuing on in to the future, if I failed to address it): that some individuals whom I come across, or whom I envision in my “envisagé” mind, yet rarely speak to - might (or do) have an existential crisis about them, imposed on to me, as that I am housed in my Section 8 apartment, while they are not currently receiving services. 

I’ve addressed these, and various surrounding exigent circumstances, and calls-to-action, in an offering of an ad hoc public social work and housing / homelessness status identity verification and needs-validation endpoint communications entity, as it had not gone stated in words, on my part, any time recently; so I made a Google My Business post on it, for individuals who might come across my Google My Business listing on Google, via Google Maps, or by Search discovery.

I'm being thrown out of my apartment for problems.

Given that I've been commonly late on rent, and some windows had been broken,

I'm being thrown out of my apartment. [ Apparently ]

I feel like it's going to be difficult times to come, but I'll avoid an eviction on my record.

Update: - I'm seeing that the Housing Authority of the City of Los Angeles « something; » yet they dominate the SEO for at in to monopolization (*update), and I've got to be a one to rebuke this in:order; perhaps through complaining or by fixing the problem, whatever it might be.

The backdrop was that the notice seemed to have differing import of suggestibility in my mind - which is to say that the letters in the mail seemed to not matter, or that the topics « could not matter » in my mind, as I can portray it.

This would be in addition to a notion of that I might not want to live here anymore; somewhat as well; which becomes a confusing thing. They claim various things, since the apartment had been reported as a complete disaster once the sink flooded over. My mental prioritization to that matter had been a backdrop of [abused] as a poorly-cared for ad-hoc drunken episodes banter « guys stuff <_ alcohol.="" allergic="" font="" i="" m="" to="" whereas="">

Perhaps, though, I'll sign ply have to drop the situation. I'm not sure of which ulterior story plot I might attach to, from day to day, but I can be a bum.  

The Section 8 Housing and Urban Developments initiative is one that is backed by the Federal Government of the United States of America, and; 

It agrees to reasonably accommodate individuals with disabilities. 

Given that I hear voices, and these dictactiphoneurs' trifles had been playing out on social media, as I've recorded them, I would believe, somewhat, that I have a case of discrimination that might need to be examined; as I am a mental health services recipient. 

* Of typing in site:hacla.org in the search bar. 

Some aspects of what I'd written could ostensibly shift meaning; given that I'm not one who works on this housing matters stuff.

Reimagining the iPigeon.institute home exhibition.

With the new guests of the establishment,

The pigeons I purchased from 6th at Wall Street, by Skid Row,

I'm thankfully befitted with a quieter outlook; there were some notions that being guilty of cruelty to animals was a knee-jerk obvialty. 

Apart from reestablishing precedence, I'll take what I'm left with and go with perspective. Obviously, the place ought to be wrought with purpose for the pigeons. The place lives for them; they're significantly king and queen of the feral pigeons, in place and in purpose. I could expand upon this stated belief, but I believe I had done so, in previous blogs. 

The significant gist of the matter is that during last month's unseemly revue about the neighborhood corner I occupy, in my section 8 apartment, in which there were unending, relentless, and what I would aught consider to simply be a racial maturity divide, in which I simply couldn't possibly reach them, and I detailed it on twitter.

Link (collection - breakdown of last month on Twitter).

Regardless of anything, it was many things inappropriate. On some level, I had, in effect and in essence, elevated my status-rated universal significance bearing by a lot, on account of my habititude and whereabouts, which landed me a spot suitable, thereupon, to carry out a bevy of historically Wikipedia articles significant fare: of such things as common historical intrigue that had eluded me, previously, in scholarly works, research; investment.

That being the case, I'm very interested in getting started on my French Roll parchment transcription of my blogs, here, on iPigeon.institute, so far: in case some sort of fated disaster might happen, and also to slow the brakes on projected development, to take a step back and to go over the content I'd already produced, which I felt was compelling, at the time I wrote it. 

I've got a vast mess of clothes and kitchen stuff to wrest with; although I feel that, after the long battle and siege of last month, that I've been graced, by God and by virtue, with a wherewithal and wellness that will see me suited quite well enough to clean and organize my place; a task bearer's status claim which I feel was vastly laid claim over, due to my simple entrant's place state-of -in-life: that of a welfare housing recipient. I felt it my place to assert my wellness and buck the trends that apparently were, of those eyes upon me of people who were aught to assist me, who laid more than eyes upon sight, being that I was their client, and that welfare was their job.

Pictured here is the general task I'm forthwith faced with.