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Showing posts with label library. Show all posts
Showing posts with label library. Show all posts

Friday, January 17

Chapter 1 of - a look in to the Accounts, Life, and Devices of Jay Ammon (iBook)

The Injured Bird - out on my own                                            in the streets of Los Angeles.
As the old saying goes, “if you can make it here, you can make it anywhere.” In Los Angeles, in our generation, coming in to adulthood amidst a seething somewhat maturity, we’d been hearing that line since we were children. All sorts of lines, in fact. Many of us arrived here from somewhere else, or some happenstance sort of lifestyle such that we were - that our parents were immigrants, or not, or that we were largely fraught with the spectre of a melting-pot metropolis of assimilation, due West, just a bit more than our suburban lifestyles had led us. That’s what I knew of Los Angeles. I was about 25 miles east of the epicenter of town that had (by now - 2020), become DTLA. Back then, it was about Hollywood. That’s where I reared my chops, as the story would go, as a failure of grad school at the University of California at Riverside. My professor told me that my aspirations, given my skillset, simply would not match up to the thesis project I had supposed of myself as being [manically] capable of enabling, in and of my means of creation, being a Music Composition Master of Arts student, in the year of 2005.
Aside from that, my instabilities, as a highly-endowed methamphetamine and cocaine user, in addition to my unbeknownst fallout of my college-years relationship were looming high above me. An iconic failure-to-be, of what my [aside-] entrepreneurial self had taught me were building blocks of character, in entrepreneurialism. That sort of Françoise romanticism was where the promise of the American Dream had hit me. For others, it was other things, of about town. For some, they could get by on cheap kitsch and slapstick maneuvers - a bitsy-step more distant, perhaps a bit more pragmatic, yet somewhat still leaning in to the notion of a narcissistic finery - one feature that delves deep in to the youth-minded psyche of our generation that came to fruition around the turn of the century.
Here, I had been taken in by a lover, (fast-forward a year and a half, given some rest, medication, a boxer’s fracture, yet I still had my car), and my parents’ still-supporting of me; luckily, I landed a girlfriend (to reiterate), and I successfully found a niche in a new marketplace: craigslist. New to me, anyways, for the most part. I felt like it was special. A vast frontier of freedom amidst the lackadaisical responsibilities of a small computers and tech section startup of a self-initiative founding sort - with a girlfriend? I set out to live what would turn out to be a life of ultimate-in-comfort, starting with a craigslist gig with a prominent Los Angeles photographer and filmmaker. Here (in this gig), I edited a photography shoot in to a YouTube video. Originally, with a Rolling Stone’s song as the backdrop, the video got a great deal of initial viewership, which I was proud of (40,000 hits, in about a week, or so). The video was taken down, due to YouTube’s copyright and Digital Rights policies, and the photographer had me come back to make a second and third video of his photography for him. He was also the one to get me in to an apartment on the West Side of Los Angeles, in Century City, just around the corner from the Century City Plaza shopping mall, right next to Ralph’s grocery. I paid $1,400 a month, and I was on my own. The girlfriend thing didn’t last long; we ended up getting in to spats, and we decided to call it quits.
The backdrop to all of this was that I was taken by the street scene that had been developing in the suburbs just off of Abbot Kinney in Venice Beach - the Shoreline Crips and a few other assorted characters were selling crack cocaine on the streets in small-batch pop-ups by night, and I was a most fond client of theirs. Back then, the narrow roads in a small perimeter, where they frequented, were backed up in lines of cars trailing down the streets. My girlfriend had chronic motion sickness, whenever she traveled in vehicles, so she didn’t come along with me. I would drive out, after days where I did my gigs on the computers and tech section.
James (the photographer who hired me for the craigslist gigs) opened up pouring faucets of the imagination, during the time that I knew him. He brought me on to one of his photography gigs, one day, where he had arranged a photoshoot with the (late) David Carradine, of television and motion picture fame.

This was my first introduction to Scientology, aside from having read the headlines on the tabloid newspapers when I was growing up. It was truly a fascinating experience, as the photoshoot took place at the Scientology Celebrity Center in Hollywood. Scientology would eventually weave its way deep in to my mind, once I hit age 30. Here, in the photo, I was in my mid-20’s. At the Scientology Celebrity Center in Hollywood, there had been two main facets of the location, at the time that I revisited it, which was, perhaps, in 2013. One of them is the mental health facet. Scientology is well-reknowned, in online literature, and also on its website, for denouncing anti-social behavioral disorders and abuses in psychiatry, as well as for their personality tests.

These are the results of my personality test from the Scientology website. I was invited to come in to the local Scientology Center to have a personal evaluation on the next morning. That’s my day for tomorrow. It’s out towards the beach, so I suppose I’ll have a beach day of it.


So, I did it. I went to the Inglewood Church of Scientology, and I met with a man named Raymond, who spoke with me about my test results. While I was in the lobby waiting for him, I was introduced, [via television] to the network, and to various shows and clips that the network had produced; apparently available on cable. The stuff was compelling, modern, and flashy, but not gaudy or overtly religious, from what I could remember.

And then I left. I didn’t have any money to purchase the Scientology Dianetics book, although I was strongly urged to. I was automatically scheduled to show up at the Scientology Church, and I felt like it would be a novel and relevant aspect of writing, here, since I was mentioning Scientology in various degrees, and early on, in my writing. At this juncture, of where and when we exist, here, in space and time; the year 2020: our childhood youths happened in the 80’s. Many of us, in Los Angeles, and, ostensibly likely, as well, in any likewise metropolis outskirts suburban surrounding area, thereof, we had the tabloids, where controversial things would happen to and from and of by Scientology and Scientologists.
In our early university years, Scientology was largely framed by figures such as Tom Cruise (of many feature films’ fame, and Katie Holmes (of a popular teen’s weekly show,[Dawson’s Creek]). Here, in the post 2000 era, when a person such as myself had split off from my childhood upbringing, in which my Cantonese mother had shunned these tabloids, popular culture, cable television, and the entire set of lifestyles like it; I had lived that life out, as mostly sheltered from it, yet I found a youthful rebellion in pseudo ‘darkness’ of Norwegian Black Metal, which was somewhat Classical music progressions of a relentless and dramatic theatrics nature.
I was raised Christian (trying to tie it all together, somehow), and innately so. I was not really some portrayal of that which had attracted me about counter and sub-popular cultures. I took a lot of it in, however. The world of psychedelics and speed attracted me, significantly. I had a healthy set of friendships with my counter-culture (for lack of a more modern term) - friends | peers, I would say, at this point, in that I had been reasonably well-socialized: I had a couple of girlfriends during those years prior to university; it was etc. common fare dating of backyard parties and kegger-type partygoers who all had (probably) some likewise similar dynamic of a lifestyle in high school years such that I did, as well.
Not that I mostly ever really found out about stuff like that. I never really caught up with people on Facebook. I somewhat just presumed that people who were patronizing the same scene and hanging out around us had some of our common and base-level behaviors. I would [seem to] discover these things much later in life, as I developed schizophrenia, [still trying to tie it all in together - which these things ostensibly do, in Scientology, which deals with mental health and psychiatry]. On some level, it would rack the mind to try to comprehend the intricacies and, as well, to access the magnitudes and felicitudes

} › felicitude
felicitude - Word in Context
... to those who were in the midst of the sordid round of tasks or the dull, heavy grind of poverty, of a felicitude that knew neither hunger, fear, nor pain; it offered a heaven forever to those who could endure a hell for a ...

Okay. Felicity means ‘intense happiness.’ Kind of like a beautiful Valentine’s Day celebration, when everything goes right. [cue the photo]. - ° | • • • ?  Bwippsy-cat?

Okay. Maybe.

But the photo is pretty compelling, to go with it. I find that novelty [full-stop; insert there] - (as a recycler), I find. . . that novelty is one of the seeking and needful behaviors fulfilled by such-named activity as recyclables collection, out and about, in the metropolis, as it pays, in various locales of America, and it suits it - the lifestyle; the novelty, the degradation of digging in the trash - for a certain type: ‘not so much, so’ - I figure people would say, if they who are them who are ones who are in and about:  of  ‘the business.’

Because it is a business.

On one hand. There are professional recycling centers that are operated by licensed and certified individuals who form businesses. Then, there are the recyclables collectors, ... etc. etc. various sorts and forms, although the path is ostensibly the same.

- not true.

Even within the sub-form of recyclables collector, there is some room for variety. There’s the ones who pull up at the recycling center, and who could understand where they had gotten all of those recyclables? [not my sort]. Perhaps it was a sporting event. I’d come to discover that some people list these things in the ‘free’ section on craigslist.

Much another forum and meeting place for a discourse on novelty. Of timeliness? That’s forum, short-form, written up. It’s important to incorporate rhythm in to the concept of novelty, sentence structure, regularity, expectation, and resolution of the listener’s expectations.

In this case, though, it’s [perhaps], (and, most likely) [as well] literature, so obv- oh-bee-vee it’s most ostensibly going to be read, although - . .  .

< • ,^ ° >

In these days of turned-up nose-cat, there’s liable to be some people sporting the accessibility feature of text-to-speech reading, which is novelty, in and of its own, that it comes into light, as such that reiterating the point, when a typical becomes particular; novel, sometimes, and for effect, the participle, of a reiterative form [and not even going back, to check grammar], we somewhat just trust that it’s right, and somehow, the money keeps coming.


It’s a psychological tool of novelty - recycling is, and as well, as is thumb-and-thumb 2-finger typing; essentially what aught be a symmetric and viable form, in that it ought be balanced, and well, in its form, in addition to being ostensible;

Just for trivia, I’m using the iPad, going on several pages, for now, in the keyboard of AZERTY, for the sake of my affinities for it, and I find it more elegant.

That sort of thing happens for a recycling (recyclables): ahem, collector. Not that it’s always so elegant, but that’s somewhat the consequence of what and why, but how? That’s somewhat the mystery of the schizophrenic mind, of which, perhaps, Scientology does some sue discourse, thereupon, yet I’ve not discovered it, as of yet. I can but of only just briefly contextualize upon the topic and religion.

Even that was a contextually novel thing to believe, or to say.

On one hand, the fluff of contextualization somewhat bwipps up some fluff about contextually relevant au par truthful, given the span of time that someone could hope to be paying attention to something. Sometimes, a difficult and much-bereaved task to endeavor that someone could muster, in and of their own spatial-consciousness, which typically, on its own, is contextually... I suppose, . . .

Okay. Easily forgettable. But a novelty will stick around for a much more memorable section of time. Such as a cigarette butt. Gross, some people would ostensibly think, but then, it was almost as if everyone had become only some people, for the sake of that the cigarette butt is like, everything - to the novelty seeker.

Actually, it was in Data Science - that I had rehashed, in my imagination, the sake of the word, and its terminology and ostensible rhetoric usage, in commonality, such that a researcher < NAME HERE > had properly mentioned it had been included in a study.

I remember it fondly. It happened on Twitter. One other endless fountain-eous ‘mon-tableau;’ contextually, here, seemingly a luxuriant thing, to consider, but now, in the scope of science, given technology - it’s a much-customizable user profile and interface such that a tableau could be considerably contextual mockup noms-nom of selectively tasty-pidgin selective of dry goods and used | new electronics, given släde.

But then,  . . . some people would, perhaps take issue and continue compounding upon the topic at hand.

[yeah, right],

But then, perhaps, someone would remember the context, given tableau, mockup au française, and the futility of maintaining attention-span, for the sake of  ‘’whatever.’

Okay. Done.

Here's the image muah!

By Jay Ammon
Check out the Valentine’s Day theme on this time lapse!

(I don't have the attribution data for the Twitter reference, yet).

Friday, December 20

For frustrated developers-would-be(s), the definitive Linux and UNIX (macOS) package management and installation toolset for source code files.

This is super important. 

For many people entering in to the development foray on mobile devices (largely); these are imaginably novices (admittedly) in developing their interests and skills in running and managing a Linux distro on meager resources (although time-scaled duplicity and miniaturization [nano] has produced a leaner showing of some breadwinners of iPigeons tech food diet intake, and two of these operating system and integrated development environment platforms stand at the forefront of popularity and adopt-ed-ness amongst those developing within the aforementioned constraints. 

The first is Alpine Linux,  which (incidentally) also effluently capitulates and encapsulates the second,  which is Debian.  

In essence,  (however), the truth of the matter is that even our own devices (excluding older Microsoft Windows releases, and mobile cellular device manufacturers' mock-up operating systems) had been running a UNIX filesystem fs  all along,  with our folder structures and symbolic relativity folders, users,  and systems structures being based on the fundamentals of the UNIX operating system formats. Even websites see structured on UNIX fs. Many structures of common websites,  at least.  

The licensing files of our devices' settings menus would reveal a vast gamut of historic development libraries indebted to open-source Linux and UNIX programmers and computer science engineers.  

But what about actually that really work?

i.e. apt-get, apk-install, homebrew this, pod file that... 

Let's be real.  For many readers of this article, it could be their first encounter of how of on timeliness the mentioning of the slage of on weather conditions in southern California; whereas many of us on welfare, here in Los Angeles,  CA,  have been running our cellular device localizations (via our service providers) strangely in Texas, or from the Illinois area. Ostensibly, it's broadcast wavelength bandwidth and real estate for servers to be placed in,  and contracted out - for whatever reason, probably on account of ineptitude and mismanagement, of waste, and sustainability being furloughed off into the slage,  but the slage lately deserves some mention,  just as an incidental to the development work that goes on,  on these devices. 

Alright,  diversion done,  now back to business.  I'll keep it quick and simple; it's all that desperate and foundling struggling developer minds struggle on, like its slage of on] Old-English 800, truly malt liquor, strugglin' for that bwapp - of UNIX source code package management downloads get it get it make the installation happen kind of thing.  

But it just doesn't. Ostensibly,  it's a cruelty game of virtualization environments that download the significant features of a platform compiler release, but the functionality fwopps one in to the toilet, of a much unexpectedly needful trip to the toilet of on slage.

It doesn't build the packages. Any of them. They slage powder puff marketing slage bwapp upon users (end-users); ostensibly picking on the most vulnerable and most millennial of on jaunted post-Olde English 800 days; "maybe some day," I figure,  but for now,  the bwamm. 

Such is the internal conflict at the heart of many young minds of this generation, trying to develop on mobile.  

The thing is, is that you need Gnome autotools,  and this iconic life-saving post-slage device-brightness, of how of on jaunt, the slage? I would have denied that the smells are actually coming from me, but strangely (too strange to tell everyone,  all the time) that it's just the slage dendrites ionic bwamm - of a fresh one,  just out of the porta-potty, ready to feed some pigeons.  

Okay.  The pigeons thing is just my thing,  to a large degree. 

But autotools Gnome package manager tools and code language compiler, independent of choice? - still works,  but once you get the stuff of how it works,  it'll slage a way of on bwaff of "nahh, I wouldn't doubt that such and such,  yeah I wear my clothes for weeks on end,  and slage,  but it's totally different for other people." 

Sort of thing. 

Ostensibly,  some homeless encampments down off of Beverly or up Temple, or something - got a dump of clothing charity of more than ostensibly necessary or needed, right now,  but oh? 

For someone out there,  (I took a shower softer I took a sweater from the stuff last night), there's clothes out on the street right now, over there.  

True,  the pleasure of running a Graphical User Interface application that was a la carte built from source is a manifold pleasurable thing,  and skill,  but now you're high-flying, running your Gnome autotools ./configure | make | sudo make install | aclocal.m4 

and stuff...  

It all makes sense,  right on a most-simplistic and easy-reading article post - right here

A look at perfection,  of development work composition for learners. 

Thanks for reading. 

The sh*tsicles of the bwippn'in would be that this is the article that you needed to discover,  and all the other stuff that's discoverable is largely garbage,  of on fwopp. 

Thursday, July 19

Homesteading pigeon guano as fertilizer for an upcoming cigar tobacco planting and curing cottage industry enterprise for the .institute

I picked up some reading material at the Los Angeles Public Library Central Library Branch; (Google Maps)

Regarding tobacco:

Most of the books there on tobacco cultivation and curing (few in number, yet undoubtedly rich in information), are labeled "R" in the call number, for "Reference," [meaning that they are somewhat valuable and rare titles meant for study and 'reference' explicitly at the library branch where the book is found].

That being said, I had limited spree in diving into my latest iPigeon research and homesteading project: growing a baby pigeon'ed vintage tobacco crop and curing au petít vintägé: a fine cigar tobacco, perhaps years in the making.

There are some lots nearby with empty land, and one of them is definitely a community garden lot. There's a spot on my side of the street that's as of yet gone to weeds and dry hay in between a large home and a church that seems a reasonable aspiration if I talk up the neighbors about it and see what they think. I have a shovel that's been left outside my place here, perhaps it's a serendipitous sign.

I've got to work on homesteading my seller's positioning to pitch the idea to the relevant parties, and I've just yesterday finally fixed my General Relief social welfare benefit money of $221 per month that I receive. I'm planning on making a trip out to a
<<[somewhere]; (a place around greater Los Angeles that retails a fine strain of cigar-leaf tobacco)>> 

  1. gardening shop so I can purchase seeds. 
  2. Whole Foods [undecided, as to "about which one... (?)]. Does the implicit worth of the general periphery and locality of the source of stocked retail ionic minerals play into the as-purchased consumer's worth and value commodity's gain in ionic mineral content?
I've got some celebrant commodity and some dilemma in my homesteading and self-initiative civic care of the local pigeon flock: I've located the roosting de facto (Google Maps) of the local sitting herd pride of pigeons: localized to my couple-of-blocks-proximity. 
  •  I've spotted several dead pigeons recently around the local area. I tried to take some in to preserve them; I found that doing so invites a bevy of unheralded concerns and heaps of responsibility: properly caring for the deceased, and preserving a specimen for taxidermic interest. It's a novel and interest-aside pursuit of where-energies-investigative-research and development claims-investments ought currently be attributable, best practices of a .institute homesteading ad hoc development arc in mind. Perhaps some other time. ([Future link to:] expand on the subject).
  • I hopped the fence onto state property (mea culpa [attr.]) and gathered 4 plastic grocery bags of pigeon guano and shallow underlying dirt. Subsequently, I underwent an acute onslaught of parasitic interest in me, perhaps of significance in delimiting the bounds and extents for within [maintaining par relevance: bounds-pigeons-pertains]: perhaps an insight into how and why so many pigeons are turning up dead locally, so commonly, recently. 
  • I surmised that the pigeon guano (droppings) were a multi-foray crisis to the birds, and to the local area, in general (in human toll). It turns out that pigeon guano has some special considerations, as might any raw material resource / fertilizer-from-scratch. Hordes of mosquitos hounded me for days, and the pestilence definitely put me under as goes for an as-if-anything: so au jour and about town take on conquering the day for several days this past week. Luckily I had my cache of pharma-curative products and luxe accoutrements of toiletries, etc. from the post-year-end USC student apartment dumpster dive foray of a week or two ago (link). The crux of the situation is that the droppings were plentiful, they're rich in mineral raw materials-resource, and it's a science-bounds-it-is <<it-all>> such that the material merits realized and implemented safe handling and storage procedures. ([Link: recipe - home project try-out of an {aromatics: electrolytics-sugars: oxalic acid: plant-and-animal fats: balsamic (wine alcohol, grape must) vinegar: pigeon guano: and salts} slight au jour quant aux données à prendre d'hommes parisienne bonnes des oeuvríer sur les faut cuisinaire provençale:
From Google Translate:
- as to the data to be taken from Parisian men good to work on the needs of Provençal cooking

I'll work on fleshing out the unpublished article-blog content shortly.

  • More on the uses and cautions involved in working with pigeon guano, at forums. 

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