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Showing posts with label dialects. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dialects. Show all posts

Wednesday, November 3

Some scraped intelligence, from Apple Search, to feed contexts and discovery in to Google Search.

 Is crypto literally simply founded upon illicit drug use and gang affiliations? - as the commonly, albeit slight, popular belief of the masses, had come to the fore? 

Who hadn’t slighted that belief, for staying up on news feeds during the pandemic, etc.? Who hadn’t experienced some sort of detriment, as a result of gang affiliated individuals collectivizing, gathering, creeping, and targeting victims? It’s been a quite blatant context of unknown extents, in my life; partially apparently due to the inclusion of heroin in to the personas - granted, I’m not completely immune from prosecution here, as a regular methamphetamine user, but I am trying to clamp down this notion of drug abstinence, and solace; of contentment in my standard self. I’ve been seeking ways in which I can instill practices, and disciplined formative traits in myself, in rebuilding a resilient and immune identity, where feigned disbelief intersects with the truth, for how much the remote-sensing quadrants operators and engineers could, or might, imbue me with some higher power that exists, out of a more or less faulty persona that could aught be supposed of a drug-abusing individual, for that these things are deemed to be unlawful. (I had a slight notion of starting beyond, at “albeit,” in this moment). 

The screen grab image here features an outlined app, of questionable merit and ethics, given the intimation of “gang” as the prevailing branding and title for an NFT-creating app.

A picture gleaned upon Apple’s Search processes suggests a dark intimation of what construes a highly popularized and centrifugal financial behemoth, given cryptocurrency’s moment in the spotlight, for having been novel, whereas now, the details are under federal government scrutiny and international regulations, constraints, and rebuke, of various issues at context, given cryptocurrency.

These sorts of Nijinsky are scarcely so autocorrected, contextually deeply-dug, such as “I doo-doo,” the claim. Who could remember, beyond the novelty? 

Ah, Nijinsky. Had I not even known - is what’s had had had happened - trying to regain traction, here. These autocorrect things, these days, with the introduction of “actual” improvements, bearing upon contextual intelligences, of machine learning, and of artificial intelligence - Apple and Google both, as big tech awrr rawr rawr rough and tough contenders to the popular titles of achievement and progress upon linguistic and visual perceptual GANs (Generative Adversarial Networks), and ooo… I had a dedicated and obsessive adversary, whereas I was more intent, on the keyboard, upon a “ab” (awkward, but that’s how I projected, in vivo, the sentence ought to be composed, d hoc, and improvisatorily, of an organic discovery and discernment upon the topic, thereof, and for that matter. 

Remembering? Well, that’s a bit tough, when I’m me, of the standards that I’d imposed upon others, whereas I’m a skilled typist, on mobile, and these autocorrect things… fwoppin’ bwopp? Priceless…?! et cie novelty-minded crumbs and knickknacks, of the minded-so aught of, thereupon, of outpacing this detriment - we have the written accord, of the textual nature, and composition’s … umm… there’s some legal term for this sort of dispatch. Not quite disposition, or exposition, butt shittle? … “even better,” it had once come to pass, upon the notion of cruising, at issue, of a legal matter… 

With that sort of GAN at formative construct, in nature, we could just opt to rebuild life, from the bitsies, and the pieces, of what had transpired, of on piss? Muah. 

Just maybe. 

But okay. That was an example of a Generative Adversarial Network, I’d suppose, and it just popped up, out of convenience. I’m the gritty-enough (un-)editorial drafts-type and typist to render that rawr awrr rough and tough little bitsies, crumbs, and knickknacks, fweef! 

And now, who could remember anything, once again? What matters? Who cares? All things had been taken care of, here, butt shittle? It’s all taken care of, here, already. 

Alright. The latest topic is that a man encountered me, the other day; a guy of a common; a more common sort, that I am, I’ll just be upfront about it - at least, of what he presented to me, but at least (once again - the GAN context impetuous underlying developing purpose at stake, of becoming less relevant, here) - at least he had artistic aspirations and offerings about himself. That was decent, I could say. What he said, though, of a different establishment, of the acquaintanceship, was that “it’s easy to hurt people.” Disregarding all else, that was an offensive superficial thing to flout, I felt. Bringing it to the current moment, I’m reminded of that I feed the pigeons, and the sparrows, and I try to sustain life, of these birds, out in the urban wild, as it were. These blogs are supposed to sustain the purpose and prescience of the guy who does that (me), and I happen to be the guy who does that, as me. I’m pinioned, as a guy who thinks of himself, to an unexpected extent, I suppose, and I guess that that makes me one who disregards people. I just feel like it’s appropriate. I did it to the guy, at one point, because he was flouting a certain type of inflection and intimation upon me, of which I find useless and condescending, whereas I had this slight pigeons and friends home art exhibition thing that I use as my sociable ladder, to climb in to casual civic “bed,” as it were, as for someone opening up to a notion of really getting to know me - the birds, the feeding, the art, the blogs, etc. 

Possibly, however, “the guy” has some of that sort of trait to him, in and of his own right, it’s just that I was a bit put off by his casual nature. It’s like, doo-doo comes first, then nobody can remember anything anymore. 

Ha.  

I couldn’t even… I just imagine that likewise, nobody else could, except that sometimes, I have this backing of a transcript dictaphoneur specialties-professionalism, in “somebody’s” higher authority stance, over me, whereas I experience problems, commonly, for enjoying myself, for example, on, like, a work day, and work day hours, for that matter, whereas I try to uphold a definition and reputation of a standard-classed man, for the people, and I let off flouted bitsies of the truth, in my admissions about stuff that I’d otherwise be known to do. 

The point, beyond all else, however, is a bit simple, of a premise. It’s about personal freedoms, somewhat, and it’s somewhat about boundaries. Now, given, I was wearing women’s balloon pants, and a poncho, and I looked a bit uncommon, as for myself. I don’t know what it was, I suppose. Maybe it was the smoking. The smoking in the household thing. I didn’t partake, because it was a pookie (a blown glass pipe used for smoking crystalline or resinous [oils] substances) - I’ve got no taste for that. Maybe that’s the non-pareil of establishment, here, supposing that people think, whatsoever. 

Alright, that was French, I’ll admit. Butt shittle? Not all that much for the better, as it turns out. But I did pull out a Nijinsky, and who could refrain from researching that thread of intelligentsia bitsies… 

*~<°^•>=/* just imagine, though, Nijinsky. Some people know Nijinsky like we were brought up on Lé Coqué-tard. Russian imperial, versus French modernism ex imaginative fwopp-lore. 

I suppose that, in the end, I’m just trying to find my suitable place, in the aesthetic of suitable geometries or placement in serendipity, amongst others, and I didn’t even watch the movie. I don’t, no. I doo-doo. I don’t quite understand… butt shittle? Some people just don’t read my shit, is what’s (I guess), the issue, whereas it’s so seemingly awfully compelling to the lower mindsets of individuals, and of responsibility. 

 

Thursday, July 26

Compto-prot-orthogphiware, via alternate charsets, through Standards of Common Commons.

Functional Design serves not only to serve, but to do nothing at all, really, just done.
A spark of an idea-tomographical leximême photograph of what purports to set out to be a monograph, one for this gig-morning:productivity - competence mockup of some stuff that will power some thrust, perhaps.
1st one-off idea-note-taken:

HardwáreProç'e'čràp bin«ª»ríêt pigęonne sçhweak   HardwareParce to the byte-lengthnqjqjqjqjqj machine binary logoarioctet numerical rhythm, as an attentuated expansion/ compression

Based on some ingress about using "licensed" webpost derivative squat-pwning locality-empowered malicious neglected people, who appear amidst à vast anti-productions-enterprise publications arrête, like I dont notice non-un-standard individuals-behavior: nothing of note. People are playing the "something's srsly:[leave:ignore:lecture] they play off of standard Common psychologies and valid équitable social guilt standards - no bumAF jaunts on the sidewalks, imaginably, for garbage, clothes, and recyclables.

Pretty weird stuff, pwning the streets scène and subaural à rawrr-rawrr... sçhweaky schqueaky... with à hot telescoping broadway street-surfaces-amplitude pwn of «at minimum, me». People around me aren't very standard, either, of the fluff-triste transient-stalker crisis-actors of ruining the climate of the windy corridor main functional positioning azimuté strange inconstituency of somehow, particularly hot in this area.

It's unseasonably trash-laden in the streets, and the pwn kiosk drive-up société is jaunting hip-hop tracks.

Thèse were some sources that held some insight and entreaty into developing à reasonably Euclidean-spheres various-harmonic relations-parallel-scripting-parse language breakout arrête, perhaps for an ambient side-loaded accessibility-features novelty processing kit for partite-confīte splotch - of an arbitrarily pwn status jaunt street-living-room mix demographic; it's pretty vulgar, and I hear awful travesties-dramatics in various onsets constantly throughout the day. 

https://html.spec.whatwg.org/#common-microsyntaxes

That, some schema dot org stuff, some microformats stuff, some claims on strange underlying psychologies of the someone involved in getting the re-pub stuff up;

My général take is that if it's Common to any degree, I'll come upon the source as relied-upon needs-to matériel, and then I'll leave it again, since it's not un-standard-no:it's not standard psychology.

Notebook working on a visual-design quatrærtholgmo»omot‹alg«or»g.9řc≥tet byte loading machine language parsing aesthetics standard source material breakout-arrays.


The concept is simple enough. I have a slow I/O data connections on my device, and I Can read and functionally take in signifiant contributions of non-volatile web-standards sites, but then, if only the site would also jaunt side-loading parallèle iPigeon jaunt leisure aside pop-ups, to mimick being even slightly jauntededAF'ed... a bit more better than shitsicles triste incursion of à late-heraldry dept. Of public affairs-socioalètrivsisselesmonts, which happened to be a trying 25 days or so, much of which was better off in that it was a trash dumpster years-end move outs-academiesiaetiques of the recyclables-bum coverage area, which I've been looking and feeling alright to jaunt-triste alley-trash dumpster diving-bum, yet it doesn't get weird, from my volatility profile fluff. Other bums walk on the same streets, why not a garbage recycler clothing enthusiast tech life style blogger standard fluffboy academic dégrée and à load-bearing bum profile kit? Pretty standard to dig through the trash, yet a non-domesticated variety bum. 

Chère were tons of Asian .pharma ad hoc OTCs and some prescribables; tricyclical anti-depressants, and I'm not for fluffing pharma nitro butyri smokin' "meh," ... Smoking is tobacco and cigars. An un-justified jaunt-inclusive Nabisco diet triste would be okay; they're 1:2:3 biscuité compagnie nationelle in a card box; supposedly:« !...whatever ... »

I call the ingress monolithiques-historic Nabisco-socialite-bifték bonne déjeuner for a sçhweaky peut-être commentaire on the bleeding of gums, méat bits in the teeth, some fleas-smellin' piss, leanAF diet on tech rotary codices in a filthy outdoors environment, and then the window-to-street ratio is so not Guy who did it himself kind of fluff-triste animal cruelty thing, and it smells like it, as Well, outside. 

I'm going to follow up GTD on my tobacco curing crop Summer gardening project, and purchase ionic minerals, gallon of milk, then perhaps [or before], workup some mockup linguistics soundex homologies of charset standards of validly jaunt-loading bif-coto-proteries-schqueaf-schqueaf, à rawr râ rawrr.. then I have to encode the resonant-spinners-toy district jaunt to do a makeshift pigeon ciconne-pipe-machine organ, made of spinners, instead, maybe. 

I have some more un-published blog notebook article to upload, after this one.

Latest post.

Pigeon-watching hotspots to see around town #5: The USC Dumpster Pigeons.

  This flock of pigeons hadn't always lived here, which is curious, because I could trace back to days of pigeon-feeding that I'd do...

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