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Showing posts with label cleanup. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cleanup. Show all posts

Sunday, August 28

A pigeon platform for the L.A. mayoral race in 2022.

 Original publishing date: 03/08/2022 (updating).

Theme: humor, satire, community voices

I don’t know about you, out there, but I can’t get enough of the news about Los Angeles. 

Staying informed, when it comes to local topics, here in Los Angeles, (at least, for myself) ignites the imagination. Sometimes I believe what I see on the news, and then, on one hand, I feel like I get a taste of a seedy side of investigative journalism. That’s a whole different topic, though, in and of itself. I’m more interested in chiming in on this year’s mayor’s office bid, which is reportedly a hotly contested position (supposedly <_<)… whereas I feel that I get a unique opportunity afforded to me, for being the [un]official DTLA pigeon flocks’ feeder, going on about 5 years, at this point. 

Look at how far we’d come.

Back when I started feeding pigeons, I was a homeless transient, loosely centered around various localities. I recollect that there were “No feeding the birds” signs up, here and there. Upon becoming informed, through looking the subject up, online, I found that it was a civic decency issue, of the birds potentially occupying too much pedestrian-centric sidewalk real estate, whereas there was not quite an orderly and dedicated care regimen for the birds, and their diet (and defecation) was a less (or not at all) managed issue. Regardless, the birds have been here, all along. They exist in every big city, in America, I’d largely suppose, and it’s known that pigeon fancying, bird feeding, and avian sport plays in to some of our deepest recollections on a theme of Americana, and even at that, pigeon care exists as a hobby, the world around - as can be discerned, from Facebook groups, for example. 

What do pigeons have to do with the mayoral race? 

On one hand, not a whole lot. Yet, if we take a more critical approach, looking intently, in to the semiotics and symbolism of what this departure of our long-standing current mayoral figure, Eric Garcetti, implies, it is a timely and serendipitous existential crisis, as for my own take on things, with President Biden’s bid and beck and call for our city’s leader to take on the task of ambassadorship to the nation of India, which, for me, as a mental health client and patient who is served by the County and City of Los Angeles, strikes a personal note; I won’t delve in to further details - discussing mental health and psychiatric issues, without regard for privacy is one of the formative tenets that would constitute a violation of ethics in the profession. Far be it, for me, to make waves in a professional licensure-based occupation, even whereas I have interest in the field, personally; I’m just a hard-liner for that “rules are the rules,” and I can’t breach terms on this Golden Rule tenet feature of the profession, it’s just too controversial. 

Yet, as insightful insiders could come to consider, having taken in this shallow context, and with me, having some informal political notoriety, I take my jibs and jabs, as a mock-up slight take on a public figure, being the pigeon-feeder, as my surface-level persona, as well as a figurative stage for giving voice and life energy to some seeded causes and purpose, in the context of pigeon feeding, and what it means, in a deeper, more considerate sense, in the hearts and minds of the people. On one hand, I’ve won a fair closely-held and dear position, in this by-line, of civic aptitude; at least - in the hearts and minds of the birds. They’ve been shown that they would commonly be seen to reject food that had been thrown out, for them, and rather, they wait, faithfully, for my arrival, largely because I make sure to feed them fresh food, but also on account of that they’d come to know me, for who I am, and for what I look like. It’s truly a heartwarming basis that I’ve established here, and with cameras watching, as my witness, I can attest to that much, about the primacy and virtue of the will and volition to keep the birds fed, in the civic center localities. 

On one hand, it’s a humble blessing, being a figure who is fraught with voices in my head: various personas, identities, and figures from my past, perhaps; and as well - a futuristic side-chained intelligence feed, of variable worth, as far as trust and actionable deeds to come about, if I were to entertain some of these intermittent intrusions, of the mind. Why this sort of thing happens? It’s as variable as people’s dedications are, towards some cause wrought out of my sentiment, and critique, on a subject, whereas some people just don’t like me, and they use dirty politics to edge a means and purpose in, on the dialectical, and the passing of time; the words, the deeds, and the dirt that comes about, being that we were battered creatures, of a common collective sort, some of us - me being amongst them, with some skeletons in my closet, whereas I’ve outlived, and corrected those dark side features about myself, as best that I could, whereas I struggle still, with the jokes, which catch my attention and breach my shortcomings’ threshold of exclusivity, in discernment - although this trait is not uncommon amongst several of my peers; these injured birds, so to speak, that we are, out of the flock of the rest of the population at large. 

I feel that many of these people, similarly afflicted, simply don’t see the part of Downtown LA that I do - having come to [some] familiar faces, on a daily basis (such as the grocery store employees), and, for that matter, I’ve come to find that adult relationships, in particular, for someone such as myself, are hard-won, and few and far between. People are highly industrious, seeking peak-intelligence, measured extents of adventuring in to the ego, and subject to ridicule, quite easily, from entertaining an improper slight - par inelegance, of the mind, even, yet many an occasion occurs, in which a person’s loose tongue will do them in - to ineffable and inalienable consequence - it’s dirty: downtown… and it’s “whose” job to clean it up? My contribution, be it what it may be, in my own mind, and in the eyes and opinions of people who witness it, and might care about the topic, for any sort of basis to come of it, and I have my blogs and social media to attest to any challenge, per se, and I feel that I’m validated in as much, given that I receive healthy and long-standing support, to a variable, yet redeemable pace and degree of observance, that I’ve come to recognize, being that I keep track of my analytics, stats, and hit counts, for example (or, the apps do it for me, that is). 

That being said, in my wildest imaginations, bearing down, somewhat, upon this notion that I, as well as some others, amongst me, friend or foe, are still nascent identities to become our own; to live down our closeted skeletons, shake off these dusty old portrayals of self, and somehow, aspire, and achieve, in fitting in, or of finding a niche, and for seeking that end in life which truly makes us happy - all while balancing so much adventure and leisure, being that we reside in the city of Los Angeles, and for that there is so much to distract us… 

Can’t you guys find some way to wisen up, like the older folks do?

Yesterday, some guy said my name, after I passed him by, and then I turned and looked, and he called me a psychopath. Ha. I was already scurred by that time, for imagining that stuff that seemed odd, out and about, could somehow pertain to my lonesome, and then, some guy says my name, and calls me a psychopath. He was an older gent, for that matter, though, and there was a touch of familiarity, perhaps, about it, and perhaps it was a gesture of graciousness upon me. I’ll have to revisit this route that I took, while making my way home. I had done that, for that matter, on this instance. But how could the people so commonly identify me? I’m not, like… I dunno. I’m not all that popular. These sorts of public shows of tactical superiority over me, the pigeon feeder, really get to me, over time, and I hear all sorts of fantastical flights of diversion from reason and soundness, of the mind’s resolve to become an adult, rather than languish in the follies of various stages or “growing up.” I’m nearly 40, now, and that ought to be a significant and well enough marker for a coming of age, a passing of time, and a ritual, of sorts, tending to a new stage of adulting, professionalism, and career. Somehow, shake this crisis and pandemic stuff off of our shoulders, and become who we would be, under the observation of our leaders, whom our current one, here in Los Angeles, the mayor, I feel, has been doing a fine and well enough job. It’s a tough job, with unseemly demands, and devious delights, in partaking of the human capital that comprises our city, and from what I’ve experienced, personally, it’s sometimes simply too much that’s offered to public figures - there’s much less accountability in the private sector, much more anonymity, and much more… umm, there’s a movie industry Script Supervisor word for it… although I forget… linearity, is not quite it; cohesion - somewhat, yet it would take a true insider to know what the term is, and I’ve got so many other minds of influence about and upon me; I’m not quite skilled, to that effect. What I do know, though, is quite sturdy, in my mind, and I feel like I make some people forget about what a problem was, about me, to begin with, after introducing myself, and this pigeon platform of simple service to the animals, and birds, and sometimes, I offer some charitable donations and deeds to the people, as well (just saying), but my take on this year’s mayoral race, is “does he have to | want to leave office?” and who could really take his place, given this civic uncertainty premise, of a by and large big city, and all of the personae indebted to the already-established networks of communications and community, that it were, that it is? What if somebody gets hurt, out of being neglected, or forgotten, in the course of a new line of duty, and new public officers? 

I’ve tried out various looks, of myself - just as a trifling corollary to the situation, and I must say - the close-cropped, well-groomed appearance must be the one that takes the cake, as the most astute look, that portrays the person, and the preeminence of good taste, posterity, and virtue, the best. Some of these corollary side-stories and by-lines, gaining the hopeful inductees, for the position, some notoriety, and in Los Angeles, I couldn’t tell you what anybody else’s storybook identity gets made out to be, and what to make of it, for what it’s made of, and from - I’m just the pigeon feeder, but I feel like even our current mayor had been given some notice about me - feeding the pigeons, and he approved. As to who can solve this homelessness problem? My take on it is - listen to the voices, even though nobody “told” me or you, “officially” - in many cases, they’re simply sober living home runaways, camped out for adventure, and then, they become bold, or scurred, or filthy, for being out in the elements, but finding people work - the ones who are fit and suitable for it: I feel that that should be a priority. For the problem-dealing and problem-solving demographics, they’ve got their work cut out for them - piles of trash, people setting things on fire, trapping pigeons, yelling in the streets - who knows how to solve these problems quick enough, for people’s liking? 

Just some thoughts on and around this topic. Thanks for reading. 

An update: 04/25/2022. A Monday.

A Monday after a week like last week? People were out and about, the night prior, doing all sorts of sporting and competitive things, I’d suppose. I hung out over in a generally desolate part of town, although there seems to be some people who like to park there, and also a wayward traveler, on foot, every now and then. Across the street, things are banging. There’s new upstart nightlife and restaurant fare, and the views can’t much be beat, to a large degree. Up at the top of Bunker Hill is where City Hall begins, as the staging grounds for the City’s workforce and administrators, as well as the legal profession, and the nation’s history and armed forces are also commemorated, in the uphill east-to-west direction. Then there’s the place for culture, and the arts, at the top of the hill, and beyond that, there’s the Department of Water and Power, which seems scarcely populated, but then again, there seems to be little work. 

On one hand, at some point, a while back, I’d gloated over the notion that there was an endlessly boundless capability, of the people’s impetus in seeing unprecedented gains in culture and in intelligence. On that note, I try to keep up with many streams and threads of intelligence, but my argument, in my own bias, is that I get too constantly distracted by people intentionally diverting my mind and body’s resources, in going out to do this labor: the work of feeding the birds. It had been happening regularly, and I’m not quite sure what became of those people, but I feel like I’m being made to live around some of them, as that they’re portrayed as that they can’t do without me - I know, it would tend towards that some graciousness be shown, but I have particular and high standards for the people who would accompany me, along my journeys and for my discoveries in life, but - to pare down the perspective at hand, I simply want to do the pigeon and sparrow feeding thing, and it feels like people either want to take up that space from me, for one thing; they have inordinate and uncultured attitudes and egos, number two, and they fail to apologize for their former transgressions, seeming, instead, to show up with some sort of story built upon a basis of entitlements, or abuses that they’d lobbed at me, from a distance, somewhat “romantically,” they might offer, about the circumstances. 

In any case, I was supposed to comment on this update about how the news is going south, lately, and significantly news-bwopp bwopped, is, like bwopp a bwopper made them that “news person” hungry - awrr 🦖 rawr, awrr rawr rawr: hungry for that gig, just to bwammo people’s expectations, with a care for accountability cast to the wind, and raw deals being struck, here and there, such as that the pigeon feeder ought to be challenged by sporting types, on every day, and things of that nature, in being obvious. It’s been a secluded and neglected feature of on-screen prattle, yet the ones who have to show face, and report on things, intelligibly, are, on one hand, a fair degree more sober and well-heeled in this industry, here in Los Angeles. What does the pigeon feeder have to do with anything? 

It would somewhat pertain, I suppose, drawing some conjectural evocations of common identity and culture, that we have, within the focus context of that the mayor of Los Angeles, was largely touted as that he’d be reassigned, to the Biden Administration, for the sake of doing an “India Ambassador” job, and, in which case, I draw some slight professional insight and expertise, yet I also, here and there, do the misfortunate realist position, of being casually biting, in describing and in speaking on some things, and I’d brought up figures such as a Baba, for perusal’s sake, and somewhat, for dramatic effect. I was queried on the reassignment, which could possibly have seemed to have been tough, and people even seemed to want for me, myself, to do the job, but the real in-person reality of some individuals, is much more an unexpected, somewhat concealed, perhaps fluid, and secretively dynamic sort of encounter, and I felt that I saw this, the other day, last week, in that I saw somebody who looked like our mayor, during a public event, which I sat in on. 

“Watch out for Pakistani shenanigans,” was my second-hand advice, to the voices in my head. I’d learned that one, back in college. The Pakistanis are perhaps friendly, and yet, there’s a much deeper and more insightful tirade of racial identity and culture which pervades the ‘Stanis, the [x]istans, the Europeans, the Russians, and the Chinese - on one hand, it’s a significantly large expanse of land, to suppose so much context be drawn of them, yet the land mass is one continuous mass of land, and, to digress, for just a moment, the cultures there do, in fact, somewhat seamlessly flow, in the countries that maintain their national identities, yet, take in to consideration that these people are multiply-imbued and endowed with traits of one and the other culture, of the expanse of land that these people are hailing from, as their homeland. I’d covered this phenomenon, previously, but I’m repeating myself, a bit, here, on account of that people are forgetting that I had ever established any real importance in the lives of people, whereas many people, scattered that they may be, are simply disregarded, and abused, of their forthright willingness, otherwise, of that they would potentially socialize with me, rather than someone they find offensive - here, in this peculiar trait, upon life, many people find reason and purpose in discriminating against others, and in making demands. 

Being that homelessness is such a large issue, at context, my other large issues at context, recently, simply to bring folks up to speed, is “xxx on break,” with xxx being a mathematical figure, here, for consideration’s sake, and, for that matter, I’m in the thick of things, making me a “viable” target for victim profiling sorts, and for human traffickers. The thing to keep in mind, though, is the power wielded, just potentially, by another administrative executive, whereas I saw the book, in the library, on the subject - somewhat as simple as her superficial charm would be seen to be. But, to be truthful, there’s a woman online, given a search for fondling girl’s breasts (small tits) kind of relevance and contexts, to draw up, and I truly felt that perhaps the person in this administrative position was willfully accommodating me in becoming a profiled victim and long-term failure account, in the otherwise, to a large degree - lackluster prognosis and outlook, for the individuals concerned with this particular issue, at context - and then, there was the book! And it seemed so slight, of that it was her, but then, I, too was taken by the administrative figure’s charms, and I enjoyed a bit of looksies in to seeing her small titties be fondled, and just maybe, that’s her, as well, but that couldn’t possibly be what the people would, by and large, appreciate of and from me, for example. 

Aside from all that, the culture, in context, here is capable of upward mobility, in some instances, and well-enough assimilation, although “obvious” things, that would be supposed of some people, I’d imagine, could potentially happen, but maybe it would be, like, a train ride and a hike up the road, a bit, from Tinseltown, and who gets all this money? - on one hand, somewhat at issue, and then, I’m being essentially blacklisted, from many things, but that’s only because some people are put at threat, for managing a problem that pops up. I guess that there was some additional inquiry, in to the spot where it goes down, but all things contextually swirling about - do seem to have been going on, over there, and it’s being overrun, potentially, as a problem, but maybe the people inside are scary, or who knows where they get caught, in breaking the law, such that had happened, earlier in the day, yesterday. Maybe it was today. I don’t quite recall, all that well. There are other people who do take my accounts, on things, seriously, and why not? Yet people seem to largely be put in a brinksmanship position, on things, and who would abandon a job that’s needfully fulfilled, well enough, already? 

If I spoke on things, I’d speak like that on what’s going on, and I’d draw some minor relevance, about people, informed, on the issue, but the people who care not, for vertical advancement, in sociable economics, are largely holding people back, somewhat, from enjoying the town, of a safe manner, whereas some people are, for example… awrr…<_< … arrr. 🐕 

Just arrr… that’s good enough, for people. It’s the end of the night. Tomorrow, would wind up being much the same, except that many people will simply fail, in doing what they set out to do, on account of that sleeping feels great, it’s presumed, and then - none of this nonsense going on, that’s still going on, but perhaps I ought to be a bit more adventuresome, and venture some risk, and distribution of my efforts, and I’ve got a great support mechanism, on one hand - it does suit my condition quite equitably, I just have to be capable of paying my quarterly taxes on things, and I really do appreciate things that I get, and people I come across, in general, but sometimes, there’s a type of person whom I just can’t quite get along with, for one reason, or another, but I’m just somewhat being led in to annotating this piece’s update with that information. I wrote it down, I guess that that person is viable, in my life, as well. I’ve got a significant well, uh, I dunno. I just treat it like an NDA. I think that that was somewhat the premise. Alright. Goodbye. 


August 27th, 2022, evening

I had come out to feed the pigeons and sparrows for the day, and I missed some of the bird flocks, yet, come evening, at the DTLA Proud Festival, and in neighboring areas, there was some talk and developments that amounted to that it was starting to appear as that I was becoming a popular notion, in unofficial polling efforts which had been going on, along with (I think) select news media markets reporting on me, asking if people felt that the pigeon-feeding bum and public works efforts version of me merited me a chance at becoming mayor, should I have ran, in this year’s race. Perhaps I’ll consider it, for next year, or maybe, for a longer haul type of consideration. On one hand, my good health is always a challenge, in upkeep, and if I’m good for it, on one year, I ought to be good for it for the long run, I feel. 

It’s a challenging premise, leading up to the prospect of supposing that I feel like I could be mayor, unofficially, during the time being, because it’s an obvious shortcoming if I mess up about showing up to feed the pigeons on one day or another. There’s other basic issues about the premise of it, that I’d espoused as part of my values platform, such as that I’d felt that I could contribute to cleanup efforts of the area in which I live, which is South Los Angeles - still part of Los Angeles, the city. My current stance is that I feel that it’s impossible for a single person to make much of a dent in clearing out what amounts to a vast spree of bulk dumping. I’d spotted The L.A. Conservancy Corps out in South Los Angeles doing the work, and there’s another company, with a truck, that does custodial services for the standing trash cans and for the dumping and litter that goes on aside from that work. Some guy threw some litter on the ground, right in front of me, on this day, and my remote sensing “claim” that he’d made, as an unspoken gesture of “believable” or “perhaps” that he’d agree with the thought, should it have “actually” been suggested to him, in his own mind, while he walked away, after tossing the litter out, in front of me, was of a sense of that he’s a “drug dealer” and they have it hard enough, in life, as it is, and ought not someone else pick it up for him? 

It’s a pervasive type of belief, on one hand. On the other hand, it’s a significantly childish and oppositionally-minded attitude, and the armed forces, or law enforcement, apparently, are given the task of correcting those individuals. 

In any case, this “not showing up” issue typically has to do with the amount of inflammation I’d taken on, over the course of the day, or days, that I go out, doing this work. Sometimes it feels like the foundation of the place underneath me, somewhat - wherever I am, is being “jacked up” or “down,” and, I suppose, it affects the degree of inflammation I hold on to, in differing parts of my body. If I don’t get up, it’ll simply become completely “displaced,” rather than it blows off, potentially, if I walk it off, or I sometimes have the option of getting up, if I’m home, in particular, for the sake of taking a hot bath, and I sweat it out - it’s a very uncomfortable thing to do, at times, and there’s cheating shortcuts about the quality of “sweating it out,” for one thing, if I happen to hoist part of myself up out of the bath, and I try to cool off, rather. Twice this week, though, I fell asleep in the bathtub, and I find that to be a good sign, as far as “feeling better” goes, for having taken a bath, for how much better I feel, in general.

Overall, I feel that my own personal markers of success, in achieving some change and progress, in society, is that the birds remain fed, and looking well, acting friendly, and that some of the trees remain green and watered, as well as that it takes feeding of the trees, some of them, with minerals and other nutrients, for their upkeep. There were some other markers of success that need some work, as well, which could perhaps use some work, such as joking around, and sobriety, but circumstances seemed fairly favorable, currently, given all other things considered.

Tuesday, January 21

Today's food-laden outing resources. A trip to the beach.

I'm hoping to catch a clean and fresh ocean air day, out by the beach. There was a light drizzle, last night, and I want to make sure I stay active, so the beach sounds like a nice idea, and I have to return a USB cable to Fry's Electronics. There's been an unfortunate turn of events for the local pigeons - their loft at the Manchester | Harbor Freeway underpass is becoming overrun with a fetid poopy smell. I reached out to the Los Angeles Bureau of Street Services yesterday, and they had washed down the human walkways, but they'd been neglecting to wash down the pigeon loft.

Saturday, August 4

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.



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