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Showing posts with label updates. Show all posts
Showing posts with label updates. Show all posts

Friday, April 12

iPigeon.institute turns 7, officially.

 Yesterday marked the 7th anniversary of this website's founding. I nearly had it aligned with my readers' 200,000th visit to iPigeon.institute. Thanks for all of the support, throughout the years, and still, on such an ongoing basis. I feel that this year will see some exciting developments in the website's offerings, as I'm learning to manage product developments at scale, and my primary support systems are well in place.  

Thanks again! 🤯🤧🎂

I landed as the 199,177th hit on my blog, here, in anticipation of reaching 200,000 hits, soon.


Monday, May 29

Today, I have a friend.

 For people who see me around town, being that it’s the civic center metropolitan district, I’d suppose that I’m a sore sight, on various counts, for some people. On one hand, for example, I feel like I’m fairly pro-sociable, and that I’m good for “friend status,” and, although it plays out, in truth, in some sort of informal and disjunct fashion, I feel like, even though I’m present, in a cognizant sense - meaning, I could reliably answer questions accurately, in nearly all situations (which, I’d say, is one of the hallmarks of my reputation, nowadays, amongst people who know me), I have some chronic pain and inflammation issues that never seem to go away, being that I’m legitimately fully homeless, and, since town is fairly upscale, in many of the small locales which characterize the areas I frequent - this is Los Angeles, on one hand, and we’d been brought up, in this generation, to have fancy ideals and aspirations to live up to. 

Nowadays, I wonder how the rest of America views this fumbling facade - it’s become a stark contrast - this notion of poverty and the battle for inclusion, in to the American Dream, whereas so many people are mired in judgmental paradigms and sociability-defeatist attitudes of better aspirations (perhaps), whereas I constantly see groups of peers and colleagues, amongst us (youths), of this generation, berating each other, at the slightest notions of escapism, in to some sort of virtuous or fanciful deed, or gesture - essentially crippling the work day, work week, workplace morale, and, in doing so, it undermines so many foundational and essential functions of coworkers, affected demographics, and governmental institutions. My personal, fanciful belief, that I flout, sometimes, is one where I assert that people’s common belief of that we are constantly struggling against budgetary concerns (crises, that it were), is actually shortsighted, and, a more insightful perspective on things is that people would endear to fund us - from whatever means available (yet, only “somewhat,” on that last notion); yet, at the most distributed workforce entity-meets-consumer, as far as social services, public and mental health services, and other relevant institutions, I feel that a limited pool of selectivity in hiring, and extraneous influences upon workplace attitudes has become pervasive and characteristic of unaccountable organizations, where casual unprofessionalism is considered due process, and trite judgmental attitudes and quips, which characterized the abuses that we’d known, and, largely, as young society, back in our early school days, committed against each other. In recent memory, it seems that, over the course of new, and forthcoming presidential administrations, we “repeat” some of the hard-won, progressive policies, which had taken decades, at these points in time, various that they are - yet, it seems that they have to be repeated, for the sake of folks who’d been distracted, or who seclude themselves, as hermits, of some fearful respite over growing up, and facing adulthood, and it’s constituent features, vulnerabilities, responsibilities, accountability, and so forth. 

On one hand, this is an age where science and technology dominates life. I feel that, to deny the preeminence of this facet of society and global commerce, would someday work itself out, for individuals, to inevitably be torn asunder from this sort of privilege that we enjoy, whatever that might be. 

As for myself, I experience several, perhaps, disadvantages, as far as being homeless. I make accommodations for myself, in various forms, yet, all in all, I’m perhaps not all that much different from my “housed” (surreptitious, being that it’s within my memory, and I’d duly “housed” myself, rightly so, as an independent business owner, in previous years) self - on one hand, sure - maybe I was “playing house,” in some cases, yet, in some other cases, I fully supported myself, all on my own. Over time, I learned valuable lessons, over losses, and I take those things in stride, and I expect little, these days, that I’m not already offered, or taught, “had been” taught, already, or, on one hand, I’d been distracted from thinking, perhaps, due to this ongoing exhaustion, which I’d mentioned, earlier. 

Anyways, getting back to my vision, of the rest of America - essentially, “hoping” for a beautiful generation of us, coming from out of this California Dream, so to speak, and, rightfully, as well, I’m sure that they expect it. We read half-hearted news, out here, nowadays. We get untimely late updates about rainy weather, lately, that I experience, for example, and, for me, that’s one thing that really affects me, at least, for a day, but I do a lot of reading, and I encounter, just tangentially, subjects such as weather engineering, which irks me, when the weather is, year over year, uncharacteristic, and seemingly, cruel, at that, and arbitrary. I feel that a proud and foolish man (or woman) would claim superiority over nature, whereas natural sciences are, on one hand, significantly vast, and numerous, in nature; and, as well, for the sake of the fact that a self-made attitude, in part, plays in to this sort of narcissism, and, on another topic at issue, sometimes, people gather together, in the various forms that we gather, nowadays, or are influenced, collectively, perhaps - we may be apt to have been led by suggestion, at a point in time in which we were prone to seek peers, and support, for ourselves, which is natural, and standard, in psychology, whereas cruelty sometimes simply seems, or feels like it’s appropriate, when our emotions and patience are tried. The best of the self-made pool of successful people, as far as articles have reported for us - would (surreptitiously) have a second-hand, non-arbitrary “serving” of their foes’ consequences, for defiance - it’s part of corporate governance structures, I’d come to discern, in far fetched lessons that I glean intelligence and insight from, which seem to rightfully characterize the man or woman whose face seems to be duly their own, and with recognition to boot, for having become the rare public figure who had flouted a poor reputation, notably so, of some sort, which regularly peppers our news feeds, of a Scientology sort of twinge to a story of life 😏. It’s tough, but we all like to laugh, on one hand. 

Wait. While I arrived at this thought, I’d like to dote on a recollection of its significance - of the fact that we all like to laugh, raucous and foul-natured that the humor may be, and despite expectations at maturity and composure, yet, writers have to have a job, and “everyone’s got to matter,” (perhaps, here, inappropriately, that I’d put this last assertion in quotes), and humor is one way to soften the insults that more well-composed, patient, and reserved folks might otherwise duly characterize these sorts of qualms, of occurrences, that get served to us, on our intellectual meal plates. 

Some sort of similar notion got flouted my way, for observation, and for ire, for example, when I’d checked on a selfie porn video that I got talked in to filming, and I looked fwacked and bwammo’d, most surely, facially, which - on one hand, I’d refrained, initially, from posting it, yet, I got talked in to reconsidering it, and, even though - fwacked and bwammo’d, in appearance, to be sure, I relented, and I went ahead and posted the video. It made me consider contingencies of classical virtue, in a philosophical sense, of stuff like, “well, what if it’s just fwacked and bwammo’d on my end, for ethical and moral purposes, like self-restraint, and public relations considerations, et al - considerations?” I’m not all that cognizantly a pornographic narcissistic exhibitionist, via search, so outright and simple. Who is? - I figure. 

Okay. Some people are…, or, uh, I dunno. I don’t really know anybody. Who really knows the real somebody, anymore, these days, enough to truly get to know somebody, for real friends, types of purposes? Some guy gets me, like that, and we’re hanging out, right now. Some notes, I encounter, are that he makes me desire drugs, none whatsoever, while he’s with me, and, by and large, I’d refrained from re-dosing myself, whereas, I’d probably, most surely, have had chosen otherwise, had I been by myself, which is characteristic. I’m always by myself, as a homeless person. I’m always fraught with the presence of others (okay, sometimes, perhaps. I do like people-watching, a bit - but not, like, I’m super-in to it, or by any means, inappropriate) - I’d used pornography, in my personal time, to satisfy that sort of personal aspiration at intrigue. I guess that some people find it creepy, since the reality of creating pornography is sometimes a matter of abuse, from an objective, societal perspective - in common sense, in other words. I know that, well enough, yet the pursuit of capturing the essence of beauty pervades our young minds, regardless of religious underpinnings, reeling against that sort of impulse. But what could possibly be left of childhood, for one thing, if these types of freedoms and expressions of ourselves were so truthful, accessible, and… simple, on one hand? It would easily cheapen the structure of authority, itself, if our nude and sexually vulnerably prone selves were our easily accessible identities, in common encounters. 

One thing that I imagined, in this moment - fleeting that it seems, for me, since I’d gone off, on contextual and corollary subjects, yet - here, I envisioned that I; within this context of this new friend that I have, for the time being - he’s still somewhat anonymous and new, for me, and a bit lofty, which is fine - my take on things is that reoccurrences, of casual encounters, is a rightful duty that true locals have to bear, for the namesake of being a local. Out here, that could get pretty rough, for a well-traveled person, yet intelligence, in many cases, rises to the task - independently supporting what’s duly right - simply right, as our higher power, as individuals, in a sense. Anyways, I showed the guy some of my old photos, and they were blurry - jittery, so to speak. I considered various things, such as - had “such and such” headquarters got rattled, of their data centers? On one hand, I’m a bit of a sore subject, in big tech c-space circles, imaginably, yet, I’ve encountered, in some instances, old dogs of men just don’t want to look bad, in front of people, if they can help it - something like that. Another thing that I’d been imagining is this “live forever” thing, and the consequences of equitability, and personal responsibility in the matter, sort of thing. It’s a hugely flouted topic, amongst people of my peer group, age-wise, I imagine, or figure. I mean, they see me, and, based on my past, they constantly seek retributions, actively, whereas, as I’d detailed, previously, here, the well-mannered and austere, or even “anonymous” (for not… well, I dunno, I guess, what makes a person anonymous, off-hand, except… well, maybe it’s the adults-only contextuals, or something - so much sexual abuse goes on) amongst the big tech corporate figures - they maintain (forgive the cheap grammar, please; it’s just for ease of usage) composure by long-gone-on standards of ethics, which are enforced, and admired, throughout the millennia, for the inherent, fundamental, and structuralized sustainability within those forms. These types of restraints and restrictions upon our expectations, and our selves - forms some of the suffering and burdens that some people are commonly fond of, or some cultures, for example - as an off handed quip, but I figure that people know what I’m talking about. 

Anyways, ugh. A huge array of annotations and subject and author citations to wrangle out - while I’m shallow-means deep, in this Sticker Time concept, perhaps, which I’d used a one-step (mostly) app, lately, to vectorize and “cute-if-y” my photo images (mostly mine, but I hadn’t foreseen some of these consequences) - such as my old photos becoming jittery, which I can withhold from doting and musing upon - for one thing. I can, as well, get around to these image annotations, T & C’s checkings-on, and making-sure, kinds of stuff, but some of these Sticker Time images, I feel that I couldn’t just do without, as far as handing them out, anonymously, and scarcely - because, on one hand, who could possibly truly be “God,” whatsoever, with absolute expectations and breadth of reach, reliably? Some people just aren’t reached. 

I figure - I’ll Sticker Time some folks, when I can, at random, mostly, and equitably - Sticker Time them.

Now my old photos are jittery. 

🙄

Original photo shared by @a_london_pigeon, on Twitter. Cartoony-look (plain vector) by Vector Q app.


Tuesday, March 21

Checking in: What’s happening, and what’s there to look forward to, at iPigeon.institute.

 I’d been a bit absent, lately, 

in recent months. This has been due to personal difficulties, on account of various things:
  • Back and neck pain
  • Budgeting challenges
  • Poor weather
  • Perceived, or actual threats, to my personal security
  • Persona developments
  • Remote sensing acquisitions of my time
The truth is, I’d become a bit apathetic, and worry-worn, due to constant challenges and negativity surrounding me, essentially drawing a dark cloud over previous years, in which I’d had eccentric bursts of creativity and prolific resource of novelty and humor. These days, I find it difficult to drum up the same personal rapport and morale, being that the situations suppose, even more than I’d experienced, previously, since I began suffering from bouts of hearing persecutors voices, and from then until now - largely, now, have a distinctive dark taint of familiarity, amongst the characters whom present themselves to me, as harassers, which envelops my subconscious mood and fears of ever establishing yet another dysfunctional relationship, that I bring myself in to.

To be sure, it’s mostly guys that do this to me. With women, I’m much more optimistic, of that they could be “fixed,” perhaps, if necessary, or set aright, in some manner, if it came to that - it’s just sort of a feeling, more than that anything’s materialized; encounters with females are scarce, and not much of anything, although I have been feeling sparks of inspiration, in romance, in recent days and weeks, I’d suppose, and I guess that I’ve been working myself up to dipping my toes in the water, once again, so to speak. It’s a raw deal, that I run, being that I’m fraught with such a defensive and secluded personality framework spectrum of “possible” me’s, which I could make available, and secure some kind of workable sociability profile, for a lady, being that I’m picky, I’ve got formative standards and boundaries set for myself - I don’t tolerate much of any kind of conflict, or distaste, or aversion, to something that’s “not right,” or worse, in a relationship setting, being that I’m a very high 99th percentile degree of honest, and forthcoming, in life, I “don’t smoke (any drugs),” I’m very much present, in the moment, when it comes to opportunities to judge people, and on top of that, my neurotic spectrum of tendencies is still of that I’m generally shy, not much really capable of coming up with a right way to casually wedge my way in to some young lady’s life, and circumstances, and, furthermore, I’m somewhat expected to not even try to date, while on the job, for various reasons and rationale:
  • I’m a bum
  • My clothes are oftentimes messy
  • Sometimes I sweat a lot
  • I have a bunch of baggage - literal, bum and pigeon-feeding bum sorts of carry-along baggage
  • My nose leaks and drips, endlessly
  • I feel like crap, as far as limber qualities - I carry a lot of bags, as I’d mentioned
  • A lot of people (women) could run circles around me, in socialization standards
  • I’m there for the pigeons, and I can’t afford to look like a creep
  • It’s a better trade-off, to be silent, keep to myself, and persist, in feeding pigeons
  • I run a strictly fairly conservative Christian Protestant profile, of not much talk, or socializing
  • I just keep to myself
  • I have to protect my iPad Pro
  • Sometimes, I feel like people are following me
  • I have people making appearances in my mind, all the time
  • I feel like some people definitely don’t like me, categorically, and sometimes, they show up, in town
  • I feel like it would look funny, or scandalous, if I somehow materialized some kind of idealized female counterpart, at my side
  • People put my personal private time at issue, and they criticize ostensible things that I do (or not)
  • I have to do a sit-in job, while out and about, of performing licensed talk and behavioral therapist, marriage and family therapist, some sort of amalgamated public and mental health capacity type of fill-in, sort of work profile, lumped in
  • Maybe these are just the “toilet can years” of this pigeon-feeding gig’s enterprise

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.

Friday, April 15

The DTLA Civic Center | Grand Park | City Hall Black Lives Matter Occupy Activism Event - Some Notes from Up-Close.

The Black Lives Matter Occupy movement is a slight of concurrent popular culture for many young people in the Greater Los Angeles area, who flock to the locale surrounding Downtown Los Angeles' City Hall, where some folks have taken up establishment of an "Occupy" basis, which is supported by various volunteers, and perhaps, through some local tax dollars, as far as keeping them fed.


The greeting banner of the DTLA Grand Park | City Hall Black Lives Matter Encampment


One thing is for sure: these people are not here, per se, for the sake of seeking housing, such that many people might presume of a homeless demographic. Rather, these folks are here for an historical sit-in, where the popular movement that has become Black Lives Matter, amidst a tepid backdrop of that COVID-19 reports had not quite faded from the common imagination, or news feed, for that matter.

What's become of the Black Lives Matter sit-in Occupy movement out here, on the lawn, is an aggregation of various common popularly received and news-media outlet covered topics, ranging from the recent Supreme Court's decision on LGBTQ individuals receiving equal rights within the context of the workplace establishment, George Floyd's controversial death at the hands of a police officer, and of Breonna Taylor's untimely death. 

A Black Lives Matter hand-made banner stating "Dismantle Systems of Oppression"

A Black Lives Matter Activist Banner: White Supremacy Out - Diverse Love In Now

BLM and DEFUND LAPD activist slogans.

Some commentary as towards the recent LGBTQ Supreme Court decision protecting worker's rights.

An artistic colorful abstract painting at the Black Lives Matter Encampment in the Civic Center of DTLA.

A banner in memoriam of Breonna Taylor.

An artist's sketch rendering of George Floyd, whose recent death spurred Black Lives Matter in to action


The campers, themselves, are quarantined off, loosely, in their perimeter within the Grand Park Event Lawn, by short metal fencing, where artistic renditions of what matters to protesters are hung, for decoration, and for the sake of offering a voice to the otherwise mostly silent tent camp-in community that's established itself out here, on the lawn. Other than that, the park's daily activities that had been in play, prior to this Occupy movement taking reign over some aspects of the park, go on, regardless of the activism installation that is the Black Lives Matter ongoing protests.

Then, inevitably, at some point in the late afternoon, the activism movement's assembling street marchers take to the roads outlining Grand Park, nearby City Hall. They march and chant, under the directorship of a man with a bullhorn, who leads the group in a collective ideation and evocation of what the purpose and credo of this activist assembly confers, unto the public, within earshot of the movement's manpower and social and civic impetus underlying the group's ideology.

A march, of a daily occurrence which has been showing face, in recent weeks, in the Civic and Administrative Center locale of DTLA, 90012.


Over in other parts of town, broken windows and shuttered businesses confer a tale of a more sordid assembly establishment, of that which is the trepidation and untimely failures, for some business and retail establishments, for the sake of being incapable of sustainability and basis foundry of keeping faith in the longer-term outlook for business, which has affected establishments across the spectrum of business economy. 

Shuttered windows, up the road from the Occupy and daily protest rallies occurring up the road from here: Millennium Biltmore Hotel

Now, nearly two years later (mid-April, 2022), 



There are some faint echoes of the as-of-yet still somewhat contentious racial unrest, in the society that comprises the Los Angeles, California, USA landscape. Here and now, at the lawn in front of City Hall, at Grand Park, the park is renewing itself, of its former days of people walking their dogs, there’s birds to be fed, and the park is generally open and being used by the public. I didn’t get a chance to connect with anyone who was part of the park’s occupation movement, mostly on account of that there were barriers to communication, such as “actual” physical barriers, as well as that I’d observed some hostility and in-fighting amongst the occupants of the park, during that time. Race relations are still, in some demographics, quite arcane and rigidly defined, or disregarded, in how racism displays itself, still; rearing it’s ugly head in unexpected ways, that it would. As for myself, I am tasked with the premise of that I’m the pigeon-feeding bum, out here, as my most standard self, of coming out to downtown Los Angeles, from my home, in South Los Angeles, yet I still do - here and there, experience a bout of literal homelessness, even though I am housed. I say: it’s on account of discrimination, yet it’s a seething issue of some other obscure nature (somewhat); I call it a lack of sobriety, or maturity, or cultural exposure and tolerance, perhaps. 


On one hand, out here, I generally tend towards that I “don’t” typically experience acts of discrimination, although my housing situation exploits the concepts of that racism still looms large, in various ways in which I can just “simply infer” that people see me as a simple and slight person, made up of my appearance and cultural heritage, which at times, becomes a trifling subject for the “locals” out in South Los Angeles - which is a place of a different sort, from the bustling big city, small town, that comprises downtown Los Angeles, in that - here and there, at times, archaic attitudes persist, which become visible in prejudiced and discriminatory behaviors that I’ve come to have observed. Today, here in 2022 (this article was originally authored on June 25th, 2020), we’ve been on a long journey - through unrest that had began it’s boil, following the civic unrest of many large cities across America, and later, through the more long-standing effects of the civil decrees that were laid out as part of the plan to combat the COVID-19 pandemic. 

My take on what’s left of the dilemma of failing race relations? Don’t make it about race, per se. Make it a topic for open conversation, if need be, but be equitable and just, in speaking of, or on - the matter of race. Many people, in this enlightened age of access to information and culture, burgeoned by the knowledge base that is the internet - slighter and higher levels of intelligence can be pursued, and attained, while greater opportunities are afforded, even still, after the Federal Pandemic Unemployment Award money had been distributed, as well as the economic stimulus payments - all of those things were a boon, to us, as Americans. We are all Americans, in that sense - I believe that we ought to seek a common identity, rather than define ourselves by what conceived of us, perhaps little more than that, as it would come to be seen, I would surmise, in the current day and age, and in to the future, for the fact that we are creatures, now - capable of intelligent design, rather than natural selection, or selective breeding, per se. Let the distinctions and nuances of knowing each other, and one another, be the measure by which we relate unto ourselves, and thereby forge our identities, while keeping true to our American heritage, for all it stands for, rather than seek to discover what makes us different, and thereby perpetuate the disparities between us, as individuals, and as representatives of our culture.

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