A voice for the elitely privileged: maintaining control in the face of superabundance.

 At some points in time, in life, the literary and well-cultured life tends us towards a subconscious attraction for the overly-superficial and temporarily gainful (albeit wasteful, and unsustainable) feelings of indulgence in to elitism.

We (I’d suppose that it affects me, as well, since I just recently had a near-death experience) sometimes forget our proper selves, and we eschew moral and ethical standards of behavior, for the sake of neglecting more fundamental and truthful pains in life, whereby we tend to a surface-level of superiority, it might seem, over what’s otherwise deemed as inappropriate and “not allowed,” in society. Given the pandemic, and civil disobedience movements of the heraldry of this particular time and place, in life, such as the nationwide riots, and symbolic support and morale for things, enforcement of laws has seemed to have become lax, in the face of preserving the lives of those who are there to protect us. Given this, many unlawful types of behavioral attitudes and portrayals of a common individual have become, by minute instances, more common, more seemingly “acceptable,” for their entertainment and pleasurable flouts of exhibitionistic enjoyment, and for tending to baser, albeit ephemerally pleasant (yet only, for some), social and establishment defilements that place us in a less progressive and supportable demographic, in life, for being unnecessary, of a fundamental nature. 

Being Americans (although this blog seeks to embody a globalist outlook and perspective in life), we have much of the best of our times, on a socially widespread and well-afforded degree of pervasiveness. Delving back, even further, we, as millennials, had a young adult-life era of materialistic indulgence and self-serving portrayals of great luxury and wealth pervade our still-nascent nurturing environment; insufficient, that it was, for that we are, by and large, not the financially well-to-do and literal elites of society. We simply had been afforded some facets of these traits, in life, for the sake of embodying equality, with a marketable vulnerability that was allowed fulfillments, of a lackluster resource of fundamental support, for such attitudes, in life. Few people are truly rich, well-off, beautiful, as well as socially graced with truthfully virtuous traits and attitudes in life, comparatively. 

That being said, experiences with, and interactions, thereof, of the truly well-off morally and ethically well-to-do, in society, are scarce commodities. In economics, scarcity is one of the most fundamental valuators of worth, and of value, in life. Much of what is ephemeral and easily accessible is contrary to the things that truly support wealth and social gains in life. What do we seek, to fulfill ourselves, in this day and time? We are afforded so much of what came before, with the Internet at our behest, yet things of higher and more distinctive scarcity, in terms of intellectualism, are still provided at a cost; we could not much disavow our Google Scholar and, even further, Google Books resources of academic intelligence, on one hand, that still cost money, in many cases, yet I find that many people seem to have adopted behaviors tending towards “acting out”,” in life, thus shrugging off the acceptable standards of conduct that personified our commonalities and deserved degrees of penetration and intrusiveness, in sociability, that public schools had afforded us. I didn’t go to an elite private school; some people did. Why act like people can behave themselves in such a brazenly indulgent manner, as if there is no authority in life? True intelligence and composure, in maintaining any sort of rational social engagement profile and demonstrations of appropriate social graces still come at a cost, and require a sober and accountable mind, of humility, rather than pride.

Such corollaries, that have characterized society, and which may have seemed unfair, are portrayed in the slight civilian media circuses such as Britney Spears’ conservatory (edit: conservatorship) Many people came to her “support” apparatus, in life, yet intimations of that a party-life, of a vastly seemingly endless spree of grandiosity and frivolity seem to have been underpinnings of such movements. People would do better to say less, inquire more (politely so), and in some cases, simply disavow that their needs are not being appropriately met, in cases of a pervasive lack of sobriety, for example. 

I’ll leave things at that, and allow for people’s own conscience and recognizance of our liberties afforded to us, of our will and volition in life. Sometimes, things are not quite what they seem, if a most superficial portrayal and portending of ourselves is what is at issue, and at stake, in life (that it may seem). Some people need some certain things, life, some people are content with what they have; some others might need to be restrained, yet I seem to attract an inordinate amount of abuses, and I’d just nearly died, for example, of what ostensibly suggests that I am over-exhausting myself, whereas I most commonly just seek to get out and feed the birds, lately. That’s been going on for years, now. People ought not be so shortsighted such as to expect that behaviors ought not be capably overcome, if they had been, or are, faulty and “not allowed,” in other words, whereas death came so easily afforded to me, such at it seemed to so seamlessly occur within the expanse of things that I would commonly do in life, whereas many people stand to live at least a few, several, or more, perhaps, decades in life, whereas people have so commonly demonstrated, foolishly, that they forget what they are talking about, or what the point of fulfilling the volition to speak to others had been, of such comically foolish terms. True fulfillment would more rightfully suggest contentment, rather than discontent.

A look at the sidewalk vendor scene of Los Angeles, CA.

Here in Los Angeles, the conventional wisdom of our upbringing was that Los Angeles is a sprawling, vast city. Indeed, at about 503 square miles, there is much ado about this town, civic and culture-wise.

How to [or who to]…? pick a post-pandemic (Delta variant timescale) - persona, for success.

 Let’s face it.

How rude a statement would that be, for someone? 

People are scrambling to avoid being caught in the crosshairs of propagandist ideation sublingual suggestive peripheries from taking hold of our young socialite upstart aspirations and takeovers, however distant and fartlorn we are, away from the nation’s capital, all the way at the other end of the country. Thankfully, in Los Angeles, the heatwaves haven’t been all too severe, and if it feels like it,

A fallen Japanese beetle, at the foot of an ominous, shadowy figure.

 

it probably is an infrared beam of “spotted you, eh?”

 

sorts of “dun, dun, dun…” 

how could a person possibly shake that sort of fate, and come out unscathed? I get scared, all the time. It’s always gangland wars, voices in my head, and sometimes, things, of all things, seem to become unseemly familiar, as far as that I feel I can identify people doing these things to me and my loved ones, and I can’t (usually) find a typology alter ego and spiritual boost timely and well enough to propel me in to quite, understanding and empathizing with what they claim is going on, in my life, and amongst people I’ve known, or my family, for example. 

I feel that some people take the concept of familiarity as appropriate grounds for dysfunctional catharsis to break ground and egotism platforming au contraire, for the sake of the fact that I… I just don’t do stuff like that. They’re the ones that are mad at me. 

Who could I possibly be, or have been, in order to not have become placed amongst these bingers on drugs type of judgmental and persecutory figurative individuals whom I’d known, or know, or some sort of vagueness that develops beyond scarcity of identity exchange, this being the remote sensing medium of communications and self | identity transmissions. It’s big, in Los Angeles. We do big things, out here, and some of us are without apologies or excuses for how, who, why, and what, and where? It happens to be, out here, that people are as slight as the breezes out here, in the hot summer nights. 

Just don’t… just - just… nah, you just really ought not to… I’d say. There’s something that sounded like screaming outside. I should go and check on it. Goodbye. 

Never mind. I don’t know… and then, South L.A. has been making lots of news stories happen, recently. 

Hmm. Sorry, I’m still adapting to this concept of that I am (just slightly) having my content served on Google News.

I was thinking that the hobbyist parfumerie enthusiast thing was the thing, for me, but I’ve got to be agile and swift, and I can’t do all things, or all people, and I can’t much solve my own problems, lately, because I don’t really know just who is doing what, and how I could better gain people’s good side. 

The JoyBuy miniature misting fan thing is blowing up, now that it’s summer. I bought four of them, and I think that some of them were broken by someone else, playing with the crumbs and knickknacks of my room.

Then there was idiot deluxe, the most everything guy (or lady), butt shittle, definitely, it would be ladies and gentlemen’s only - prowess, to become: the one who says the most iconically irreverent fwopp.

A Data Science Statistical Anecdote Moment on the Degree of Influence Misinformation Wields on People.

 I get all sorts of conflicting intelligence, as I traverse the “remote sensing” (or, Scientology “Space Drama) ego trips, currently ascending in to the “cult leader” realm, as a mock-up egoiste-epatant:

Updating: the DTLA Pershing Square flocks of pigeons and sparrows - cute! (Photo blog)

 Here’s an updating photo blog documenting the attainments gained, the social developments, and sometimes just the plain cuteness, of the pigeon and sparrow flocks that reside in the Downtown Los Angeles park of Pershing Square. These flocks are perhaps the most prolific and showy flocks in the DTLA civic center area. 

Update: 12/09/2021

Today was a rainy day at Pershing Square. Check out the wet pigeons! 

A Sunday morning’s pwn’ing of a pigeon-feeding bum - a 12-Steps program confessional episode.

As the literature of the 12 Steps addiction recovery program proscribes, we are to admit that we are powerless over our addiction, and that our lives had become unmanageable. 

The practice of confession, in civil society, dates back hundreds of years, perhaps over a millennia and more (I’m not quite sure, off hand), although events such as the Inquisition, which happened in Europe starting around the 12th century, continuing forth for hundreds of years, would perhaps be the most notable historical time period and setting which we would correlate with the preeminence of the Catholic Church. Obviously, confessing is a difficult and humbling thing, to say the least. I’ve not raised a child, personally, but my own imprinting, from my nurturing environment, was a slightly heavy-handed period of discipline upon myself; my father not having been much of an intelligent man, of some sort of faculty of insight and breakthrough, as far as having attained a more perseverant and empathetic affect for us. 

That being said, I spent much of my childhood years, through my young adult life, fraught with dishonest slips of disclosure, characterized by a subconscious fear of being reprimanded cruelly by others, coupled with the inclusion of willingly intended acts of deception, which would correlate with the trait of caring to please others, and appear to be well and upright, in disciplinary terms. Having been an abuse victim, in my younger years, less-efficient and less-productive traits saw their way through in to my developmental maturity paradigm, in other words, and looking back, I would have sought better methodologies of progress and self-representation, whereas the mysteries as to whether or not a person is depraved, as a dishonest person, in this day and age - prior to the brain-computer interfacing adjunct intellectual evolutionary era of development and understanding - in many various social and technological sciences being affected and dependent upon ever-more challenging and demanding standards of understanding and of communication, we face an imminent existential crisis, each unto ourselves, yet, in the age of the mind, to come, a well-minded person would most commonly seek to persist, and to thrive, whereas in keeping with inclusions of “what’s necessary” for survival, being the primary driving impetus in establishing our prescience in … 

Eh. Maybe that’s all. I crashed my definition check basis in implementing prescience, just to be sure of things, and I’m generally sure that it ought to fit appropriately, according to logic, but I was just saying… just remarking on the confessions and admissions that had been going on, for me (in my mind), and it’s obviously a complex set of contexts and issues which could have words put to them, although people are supposed to be afforded their anonymity, in the 12 Steps program. I stopped where I determined that I had been challenged by my own ambitions to have my place stated, appropriately, and accessibly, for including prescience - even though I feel that it was a good enough logical adjunct as for communicating what would have come, from out of that. I figure that if I’d crashed the definition engine, it’s possibly not affording accessibility to the common person. 

Oh, okay. Update: apparently I’m … 

Well, never mind. It was just a connection glitch on my iPad Pro. I’ll stop, in any case, but here’s the definition of prescience, just for fun. It turns out, it’s actually somewhat just been characterized in the above paragraph.

A vehicle gets pwn’ed in South Los Angeles.

Talk about road rage: this vehicle showed up just around the corner from my home. Man, oh, man. The things that must be going on while I’m out feeding the pigeons, I can’t imagine.

Nourishment, in the time of Radio-Nuclear Evolutionary Establishment.

 According to some reports I’ve heard, of the day, 

Hmm… maybe never mind. But somebody said that we don’t need to eat any more, and that simply… well. I dunno. 

Okay. The premise was that I cooked a meal from stuff I had stored in the freezer, the other day. That was days ago. Now, tonight, (earlier), I heard somebody say that they were fed from the cooking of the food, in and of itself, and that a town nearby here (nearby Los Angeles, that is), got nuked, and everyone is blind, in the area, currently. Now, I’m just about feeding the pigeons, mostly; let’s not forget. I’m a bit fairly traumatized and nerve-wracked about these people seeking some sort of imminent victory of aggression and dominance over others, as if life exists for nothing, but, say: dominance, narcissism, grandiosity, delusions, impetuousness, recalcitrance, and caprice, as some of the primary features. 

Now, I won’t say that somebody else’s home is a different place; by all means. I’m tacitly befuddled by many of the things that get passed off as viable “things” that I hear, and, to be certain, people scarcely speak to me in person, and I doubt that people would take the trouble to encounter me, in person, to tell me such wild fables and vivid lore, in a world where a person is their total and replete self; not some farcical and imaginative play-world that our 2021-version of remote sensing encounters and accountability is, where things of an unsociable nature typically get passed off as pro-adversarial abuses, of oppositional figures, being exhibited to their witting and intentional victims, and whereas these sorts of encounters seem to elicit no long-standing or consequential outcomes, in life, for no matter the magnitudes of depravity and social authority in our civilian culture. 

Is this a game of condescending authority upon us, by our higher power, who manages these remote sensing encounters? I’m so largely wrought up of remote sensing topics and hearsay; I’m quite obviously made strange, so to speak. A person of my age and aptitude, and good-willing Christian nature, ought not be made to be so trivial and trifling a subject. I find that the prominent issue at task, here, which is being disavowed, of primary value and worth - is that higher talents and some of the facets of the various intelligences, of our minds, are being ignored, or overlooked, and certain individuals, myself, as for my personal cares, as for the moment, could do better, much more so, and profitably, if our higher capabilities and talents were being extolled, or at least, not burdened by the belittling of our personage and intrinsic worth, through such defilements and debasement. 

By no means - society has not shifted in to a new defining evolutionary paradigm, and change happens slowly. This is a nation of many, many individuals, and lands, frontiers, and of various geographies and climate subtypes. I feel that some people are forgetting the elementary teachings, of our youth, in public school environments, that we had, of the understanding of, and teachings, thereof, about the diversity, as well as the unity, and defining, formative traits that we uphold, in America, where we celebrate freedom: these entrapping aggressive captors, of the free individual, stand boldly against the grain, in our America, and these people must be held accountable, somehow. I am not the man to conquer all needs, as being fulfilled, or virtuous, for that matter, by any means, and I can only do so much. People would typically understand me as that I commonly feed the pigeons, in the civic center area of town, for example. It is a task that takes much longer, perhaps, than expected, and it does come out of my own personal budget, which is currently quite a menial take, in terms of benefits I receive, from the welfare establishment of the state and local government, as well as funneled down from the federal government, in the larger picture. 

I won’t validate all things that I hear, to hold forth, in the minds, and across the eyes of my literate readership; some things, … well, my take is, is that something of curious notoriety, happenstance, which occurs, that we may come across, if it be a viable social more to have come to comprehend, as an enduring trait, in life, ought be considered, tucked away, and wait for a similar defining occurrence that would happen again, and again, in life, until it could be commonly observed, discerned, and relatable, amongst peers of intelligence and experience. My perspectives upon life are significantly in detriment, for that I am so commonly lied to, going on, so many years, with so much of my experience in remote sensing. 

The put-off slight home exhibition, of the iPigeon.institute art effects and fragrance-making collection: the stand-off days.

 Days and night, on end. 

No regard, whatsoever, for typical formalities, I’m becoming aware of, of the casual “village idiot” for the crumbs and knickknacks offer of playing around in my closet; this notion-deprecation had instilled itself as permeably “aught could be” more respectable, of a generalized notion, in that the general public might also appreciate patronizing the art collection and collected documents and transcripts of the early days of establishment of my iPigeon.institute pigeon-feeding enterprise, of a story based upon a travails anecdote of a guy who “made it work” in Los Angeles, through dedicating time to taking care of others (the pigeons), while making his (or her) way out of homelessness, and the pitfalls and shortcomings incurred, in establishing sociable currency and relevance, amongst the common people, and their good graces, in the land of fables, of greater Los Angeles, turn of the 3rd millennium. 

Yesterday ended up being a strange standoff kind of day, where I was stuck on pwsshh… fwipp - smashhhhing people with the iPad Pro, busy with it sort of thing that I’d established, while the stranger next door was completely keeping to himself, sort of thing, although I must say, of on pissless shift he must have been pulling, of some sort. There was this notion of a constant threat, of my room’s security being defiled, on consequence of enforcing an of on pissless - the identity and embodiment, thereof - the guy. It’s typically mostly always a guy, except that the bwipsies eccentric girl had murmured some unintelligible notions, of that she finds herself cute, and then - some other stuff, of an intimation of that there’s something that needs to be done out somewhere else, such as at some place that I couldn’t really hear her say, as her defining traits. I figured that she just can’t compose herself as formatively congenial enough, of an impetuous sub-superficial need to be shameless and un-humble towards me; I figure it’s because she’s discovered things about me online, and she doesn’t care to admit it. She’s never give, me her name. She’s kind of borderline like that, and she was framed, towards me, recently, of that she had shown up to play with my fragrance ingredients collections, as the village idiot, for the crumbs and knickknacks notion that I had flouted, although these people constantly flout the rules as dismissible, of that there be some tacit agreement and supervision involved in the village idiot indulging themselves around aerosol-industry sort of slight manufacturing environment, that it is. 

Could they possibly seem just simply better, for skirting the premise of speaking to me about it, whatsoever, for … I dunno. I just see worse of them, and for that matter, it’s not everyone who appears to have been framed in this particular manner, leverages upon this fragrance ingredients thing. It implies  a gross notion of childishness and entitlement, and worser things tend to come snowballing out of that establishment, quite easily.

Sweating it out, after having been a stark schizotypal paranoid one, in a mid-day’s hot water and medicinal oils-infused bath tub.

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). 

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. 

 

Stub: The Impending Crisis for Mental Health Patients - Neck Cancer.

 Neck cancer is a relatively new topic for me. I hadn’t heard of it, prior to a couple or so months ago (it’s now mid-October, 2021, at the time of this writing).

Cancer of the neck? I’ve had esophageal tuberculosis (I think it was; the doctors said that it was something else, or … I dunno. They kind of just disregarded it. Anyways, I lost my voice for perhaps a few months. It turns out that there were hard gobs of mucous stuck inside of my vocal cords, and I could get them out with a Q-tip. I surmise that I had contracted the disease through a tuberculosis test which I had been administered while hospitalized for an acute psychiatric emergency, for a month, or so. They denied that the TB test would cause tuberculosis, though. Some doctor had disavowed it, later on, in history. 

Here’s some of the knowledge base on neck cancer, from cancer.gov:

My red mark-up indicator brings to light a corollary topic which pertains to mental health, and remote sensing, as well as persona marketing, counter-intelligence, mind control, and gang stalking contexts. I’ll only get in to it stub, here, for brevity’s sake, and I’ll keep it simple, such as to let the reader’s mind ponder. 

Now, as well, with the advent of the cytokine storm of COVID-19 infections, which is an inflammatory disease, we see some notion of the otherwise common person, pushed too far, perhaps in their digital life, where life seems more compelling to indulge, for some, as that the constraints of the physical become the pains in the neck, whereas some of our hormones are regulated in the thyroids, which are situated right next to our major neck arteries. 

Some quick tips, as for harm reduction:

• Don’t smoke scuzzbwies and drywall. Just… just [fuck…] already. 
• Smoking is for tobacco, as far as lawful behavior is concerned. Becoming casual about “smoking” of other sorts lends itself to increased risk for total recall (full body scans, and transmutability unto others, aka Scientology “gods,” or idols of some sort, out of the subject.
• Remember the lessons of childhood. Don’t speak unless you’re spoken to. Respect your elders. Don’t use the Lord’s name in vain. 
• I’ve got an “advanced neck cracking” instructional video up on YouTube. Check it out. It might be revolutionary for you. Sure, it looks bad, but hey, this is the neck at issue. What kind of donor could offer a suitable adjunct parcel of body form and what kind of treatment protocol could be supposed, in such a situation?
• Just watch the video. I’m shooting for organic hits, here, and I know, it’s significantly niche, but if I do something on camera, and leave it posted, I’d hope that it at least helps some people out of their otherwise misery that they’re living through.

How does neck cancer become removed from the body? 

Neck cancer which is experienced concurrent with chronic inflammatory disease could be a condition which is simply symptomatic of the inflammation condition itself, in conjunction with pre-existing cancerous, or pre-cancerous cells in the body, attempting to release themselves from the body; a condition which could correlate with an ionic mineral cleanse and detoxification regimen, for example. I would estimate that this is the process that I am going through. 

In essence, I felt that my experience of this problem became apparent, after I had some bouts of mild “chomping” down, at the jaws, at which point I incurred a fracture of my premolar tooth, on my upper jaw. I realized that this fracture indicated that it was an opportune and resonantly consistent ulceration that had been opened up, of a seamless opening that bridged my bloodstream in to the outside world, of my mouth. I noticed that I had let out a blood clot; for example, and it was a blackened opening, similar to a cavity, yet a bit uncommon, since it was not at my gum line; rather, it was in the middle of the tooth, as though the tooth had been drilled open. I had various exigent sources of need, in detoxification: for one, I had broken my fist against the wall, a couple of months prior, and my bone marrow had an opportunity to leak out, in to my blood stream. In this case, I felt that I was regulating, and renewing, the bone marrow that had been leaking out, giving my overall bone marrow composition a new signature trait to it, whereas it was locked inside of the bones, prior to my hand break. Aside from this, I am a long-time tobacco smoker, and I have ostensible tar and plaque buildup in my bloodstream; but my broken hand’s scar tissue would probably have been one of the acutely critical things to get out of my bloodstream. At the moment, it’s popping up, in my life, as a deep vein thrombosis, at the back of my knee. I’m working it out, through vigorous exercise, mixed in with intervals of rest, and I suppose that some of it is aerated out of my system through this fractured cavity in my tooth, which will eventually be treated and sealed back up, with a renewed regimen of ionic calcium intake, which I will manage for myself, and perhaps I’ll follow up with a dentist, to have him check on it, and perhaps seal it with a filler, as had been done for me, on my molars, back in my school days. 

The large cavity fracture on my premolar is evident, here, in this image. 

Take a look at how large my teeth had grown out, and expanded, with ionic mineral calcium supplementation! Perhaps I can grow in to a larger frame, some day, with continued supplementation. 

Future Halloween Costume Aspirations - Chimera Sparrow (via Google AI and Vector Q [imaengine])

 What a concept to bring to the out-doo-doo port-a-potty: doing the best costume ever - here, I assert that, as of 2021, that title couldn’t possibly be aught else than the chimera sparrow, rendered through Vector Q (imaengine), brought to life, thanks to: my choice for local fashion and crafting aspirations: Michael Levine. 

The first run print of the chimera sparrow ex imaengine | Vector Q ex Google AI Chimera Maker Tool

Oops, I guess they’ve shuttered their doors. But I’ll remember the guy, and perhaps I’ll catch him at a future 12 Steps meeting, or something. I spilled milk on his floor, over there, once, but I bought something from there, 3 times. For me, I felt that it was the relatable (for me) fabric store and supplier, of the retail shop sort, within the DTLA fashion district locale. It was cool to see the owner of the brand on the showroom floor on any given workday. 

Where can one catch bird-spotting the chimera sparrow, short of future Halloweens-to-come, of my costume making aspirations to-be (I purchased a $200+ sewing machine, off of Amazon, but I don’t know how to use it, just yet. It’s been sitting pretty, and my chimera sparrow [failed print] is guarding the fashion realm closet micro-space modular portion of my room, as et cie cute as can be). 

My micro-space modular closet features an Epson printer, a many-stitching patterns sewing machine, from Amazon, an aquarium pump au jour eau de (… it’s au jour) aerator and percolator, a black light, a lithium ion batteries bass trap ex large fabric roll ex fashion district DTLA discards haul, a (mostly) Nordstrom set of cold-weather clothes (or, for long-sleeves lovers), crumbs, knick-knacks, and some hummingbird juice. A moth had taken a liking to the stuff, and I don’t mind the moths. Oh, and there’s a chimera sparrow standing guard, off in the back, here.

Anyways, 

I need to learn how to use the sewing machine, and my readers get to be the insiders in to future developments and productivity cycles of iPigeon.institute - to come. 

Where can one view the Pigeons and Friends prints collection? 

I am commonly out at Los Angeles State Historic Park, in the late afternoons and early evenings, and from time to time, I can bring out the prints collection so that passers by can view the prints in person, as I sit and do stuff on my iPad Pro, or something. I can also have small samples of my fragrance creations out, once I finish fixing them, to my satisfaction. 

Virtual Narcotics Anonymous Meeting: Confronting Asymmetrical

It’s an inevitable outcome, for the person who had lived a finery lifestyle, of some sort, as far as eating good food, and exercising regularly goes. I would consider those two things to be primary traits of fine living, even at its most bare, all else considered - finding the pleasure pursuit, and seeking pleasures, instead, to characterize the persona mocked up as of that finery would be considered upon this basis, rather than a more sustainable and natural lifestyle set of traits be extolled. 

Isn’t it inevitable? At least, in Los Angeles, it would seem so. We’re told that we have the capability to live out all of geography’s wonders, within driving distance of less than a day, out here. The larger picture we’re given, is that we live in the finest nation in the world. But how many people end up subsumed by the glamour lifestyle, at some point, or get swept up in the out-do-doo scandal rags of publication literature and media? At some point, people will demand that these scoundrels pull their own weight, in athleticism, for the fact that … well, I don’t know what. I happened to be personally, thankfully, graced with a fitness mentor of the unexpectedly degree of distinction, in my life. The man’s workouts would challenge a dormant heartbeat into a near-faint, within seconds, no doubt. To have not been attending to these things would become apparent, within minutes. Yet, the man is made of these things, perhaps not forever, though, in the land where people start to believe that life lives on, forever. The land of fables, as it were, that we do, here, by tradition, in this town. 

The question: How could you possibly be thought of as heroic, when you’re doing something erotic?

 This was written in complement to a different pornography scene which I filmed, of myself, which I didn’t end up appreciating all that much, so I deleted it, prior to publishing it. I happened upon an individual annotating some recorded comments and questions in regards to my pornographic content, which is up on Xvideos, in any sort of relation to what I do on here, in my blog, iPigeon.institute.

This is just a sample of what I’d consider to be objectively erotic, perhaps for both sexes | genders. I, for example, have previously looked back over my footage, and felt erotically charged, because of it. Other people make demands upon sexuality, for reasons that they fail to communicate to me, but through a personality “complex,” as it were, … an abnormal psychology diagnostic standard, inevitably, of some form; some formative, defining nature about them, which is common, and typical. 

Not that all the men do this sort of thing, I don’t care to pass judgment, but I just don’t take care to observe and pore in to content, online, that I’m not initially compelled by. The tricky thing is, nowadays, is that we’re not always getting the feed, or gallery, that we click on, per se, with the deepfakes thing happening, and each unto our own, of some decided, or determined fate, for some methodology of ethical and practical design upon our sexual desires, whereas, at some points in time, we’re significantly fortunate to have these sorts of moments fulfilled for us. 

My main message is: no problems means that many concerns had been addressed, in order to feign composure, “by this point in time,” I would have said, on a day like, … two days ago, that I’m still awake on, “at this point in time.” Now, that being said, who knows what a deepfake algorithm will determine I ought look like, and for what purposes, or reasons? On one hand, I’m sure that I look fwopped bwopp, facially, of the truth of things, but I’m found, here, to be in a circumstance, and a situation, where I wouldn’t commonly try to interact with somebody else. I choose not to be gay, and to not commit depravities, on account of that I just don’t quite believe all the things that I hear, quite so much. I just don’t know, and I don’t try to venture to explore the world of indulging fetishes, and carnal desires, all that much. I have my own seeded way of doing things, part of it is simply withholding fulfillment, which is part of the trickery that a musician has about themselves, of “some of them,” <_< … I would suppose, whereas, in pornography, it’s a bit questionable as to whether or not we ourselves truly understand, and “even could” receive and attain quite what we’re seeking, from moment to moment. 

My overarching claim, that I would have about myself, is that sound and proper communication, of a literary mind, or of a “literate” mind, proselytizing a sound lectern and discourse unto a pupil, to use some alternative dialect, of my resource of the English language; not that I would find it uncommon, or distasteful, to do so; particularly as I grow older, and more resourceful in my linguistic repertory and more so culturally affixed to a greater aesthetic and purpose, in rectifying, or explaining, at least; come to a pause - the reasons for why I might simply just “do” what had been requested of me, and here it is - my rationale behind these sorts of antics. Now you see me typing, on Notes. A simple format. The iPad Pro does screen recording, to the significant fulfillment of the visual learner. To see it in real time is proof of … of something, at least. 

The words, … they still exist, up there; the grammar and usage is right, and at times, I’m being supported by some collective spirit of one or more people, who would perhaps do so, in mentoring me, and for the sake of seeing me proliferate, despite trivial and trite contentions that had been spoken to me, during the course of what had transpired, just prior to me setting about in composing this section of the “get to know somebody” thing; a bit uncommon, for a media outlet such as this, but I would be doing something on my iPad, quite commonly, given many a sort of lifestyle circumstance and outcome that could find it’s way in needing to be documented, annotated, composed, photographed, written about, or perhaps I simply am the subjective dilettante of “everybody else’s” objective reality, which focuses upon me, of a limited scope, in perspective, or, more appropriately - in hindsight. Intellectuals appreciate me, for doing this sort of written (typed) work composition, because of the predictable flow and form about it; it’s known as transliteration. That’s as literally trans as I’m willing to actually bend, whereas I do value masculine characteristics; I’m just not the highest achiever, in various attesting-doings to that aspiration in life, and some of these guys find it suitable purpose and cause to gang up on me, for the fact that they’d had varying and alternate ways, and even of the essential form, and formative self, as it were, of what constitutes a man. 

I say, let a person conquer man, understand women, (come to), and learn to make people laugh, and be at ease, during the course of transliterative nepotism taking place; nepotism, here, being the deed of bestowing, upon a lesser individual, the customs and formulary keep and sorts of the more well-to-do individual. If we couldn’t connect upon the higher sort of interaction that could be had, give, that better and more suitable accompaniments exist, for each one of us, … I’d have to wonder why that suit had not been accommodated for the person, and for the collective people who speak out at me, at least “sometimes,” and I have all sorts of sayings that would characterize my composed and appropriate self; I don’t need to get in to all and everything, like that, just right at this moment. 

I wrote the words down; they seem to characterize me, yet I acknowledge my peers, mentors, overseers, authorities, and “higher powers,” that they are, whereas sometimes, people find themselves the invisible “star” of claiming their own stake in my, and “our” lives; if you’re here, you would be following along to this, or thumbing by, in life, getting by… somehow. What could I possibly do? I’m not gay, for one thing. There’s better people about us, to be had, if the guy could just suit that fulfillment,t, well enough. It’s obviously a guy problem. Me? I’ve got a face problem, currently. 

It’s awrr rawr rough and tough n’ shit. I dunno… I figure that a woman, in this day and age, might end up being a bit sort of like me, come down to tastes in sexuality and degrees of indulgence in fetishism. I just do-doo. That’s one of my claims. I do Nike, … the athleisure fashion thing, … bum that I am, and hey, . . . I’m judgmental, at that. I can’t be everyone’s favorite girlfriend, but how many guys suitably accommodate a viable conversational partner, of fulfillment of expectations that society has upon us, for the sake of sustaining ourselves - this sort of thing being an adult context, and me, at age 39. Hmm. I don’t know how much time I’d taken up, composing this thing, butt shittle? On camera - next context to of on fwopp bwopp butt shittle, the … ummm. . . I was just kidding. I won’t do that on camera. There’s a bunch of stuff that I won’t do - hey, <_< … I’m just a victim of crime; a stalking victim, of the remote sensing apparatus, of “whatever” means, by which that happens - I wasn’t brought up on dramatics - I was brought up on intelligence, and in musical understanding, and I went to church, and stuff. 

Okay. I’m done explaining stuff. I feel that that’s suitably enough, if you happened to catch me doing this, and you would sit or stand there, or lay down, etc., and figure that I could be a fuck-mode loon, for playing with myself, with the seeded knowledge of that the camera’s on, but I’m just seeking to fulfill a slight notch in online pornography, that I feel is lacking, at least, at this point in time, whereas I’d care to inspire and arouse people to discover fulfillment, themselves. I’m only good for what I’m good for. Some people try to make me worse than that, and claim that that’s what I | they did, of on. For that matter, it could better come to be understood visually, of the linear form, that is transliterative pidgin English, that it “might” be, yet within the proper grammatical bounds, etc. 

Alright. That’s all. 

Product Review: Alpha Ionone (Natural), from Perfumer’s Apprentice.

 Dedicated botanists, as for backdrop to a fragrance-making and mixing enthusiast “hobbyist” sort of pseudo-professional profile of perfume-maker - not quite a lab chemist, ever, foreseeably, yet not quite an elementary-level “essential oils only” type of fragrance mixer, by moonlight, as it were… would not quite classify the Iris as a notably fragrant flower. No, by it’s formative traits, it is a perennial tuberous root-replicating crop; a rhizome, that is. The flowers? Classic, via our Art History lessons, as Jean Claude Van Damme, though… man, he could kick some ass. 

I’m still on, like, my last blog post’s lingering persona and effects, and attitude. 

Sorry about that. It’s Claude Monet, who did the famous landscapes of the folk-ish peasant pastorale, he, himself, a master of observation, and an indulgent one, when it came to large strokes, and goop, with his impasto technique, with the tube of acrylic, forming some of the characteristic primary favorites of art lovers, of the Early Modern Period; here, Impressionism, as it’s known, along with Van Gogh, who did similar work, stylistically.

Botany enthusiasts ex art lovers-slash-historians would instantly draw a connection, between Claude Monet and his Irises. 

Lately, my Facebook News Feed is a Glorious Cash Cow, of Menial Effort Required.

 The thought of it is obviously compelling - easy cash, for doing “most-simplistic” sorts of tasks, completing surveys, questionnaires, mystery shopping, etc. 

But how does one discover, or happen upon, this sort of chance deal and offer, in one’s own news feed, etc.? 

As I’d noted, in prior blogs, or on my social media newsfeed outputs, themselves, (for me, that would be mostly on my Facebook or one of my various Twitter (okay, mostly - I have 2 Twitter accounts): the point is, is that sometimes, I try to list out, and reiterate - some sort of moralistic aptitude, of life’s fated time-in-passing’s “lore,” as it were, …

Actually, as I hear people whackin’ and smackin’ shit, out over in the background. 

Brian Laundrie just got fwopped bwopp out somewhere, over on the news… “Hey? Huh…?” 

Then, there’s the “try: to remember;” thing - what was it. What is it? The response? 

For how do-doo I did people, out here, out in this implode-cell of lavish indulgence and ego? I did people do-doo. 

Frangipani Absolute - Pure Aroma Ingredients from iPigeon Aroma Ingredients

 A richly fragrant deep, indole | narcotic floral aroma absolute; this product is 100% undiluted extract from freshly-picked plumeria blossoms, otherwise known as Frangipani. The fragrance is loved all the world around, for its powerful and diffuse fragrance.

An [imaginary] day of recognition for iPigeon.institute and for me, Jay Ammon.

 I stayed out for the weekend. It was exhausting, but I got the birds fed, most definitely. 

A couple of notable things happened, both of them in succession to one another. As I was hanging out in Grand Park, taking inventory of my day, and catching up on internet aspirations, and such, a lady came up to me. She somehow intuited that I was the perfumer of the area. I had been cleaning out the spray mechanism of my new tropical perfume spray, Southern Critters Skeet Skeet, and I let out a few spritzes of it. It’s an unexpectedly vastly diffuse spray, and, as such,  it’s suitable for environmental, rather than personal fragrancing. I was sitting by the top of the water fountain when she came up to me, and she kindly commented on the beauty of the perfume that had enveloped the area, and she asked for a sample. I gave her several milliliters in a sample spritzer, and I applied a label on to the spritzer, with my information, so she could follow me, and contact me, in the future, if she was interested in my developments in perfumery, etc.

That was the first thing that happened. After that, I heard a richly-developed remote-sensing episode play out;  both somewhat a social work awards and recognition showcase and a 12-step self-help meeting, all in one. They had gathered to recognize the work I had been involved in doing, as far as keeping the birds fed, around town. It was a dearly heartfelt outpouring of support for me, and while they were at it, they had also reprimanded, publicly, the ones who had been persecuting me, as part and facet of the 12 steps nature of the program, as it were. 

I came home and rested for a few days, and now, my time is up, here. I’ve got to go back out and feed the birds, but the recognition I had received, through this “imaginary” program which had played out, turned out to be very therapeutic, and I feel as though perhaps I can be healed of my drug addiction, at least, for now. Thank you so much, people of social work, in the downtown Los Angeles area, for putting this together for me. It really helps out. 

It’s slim pickings, at the end of my food supply, for the Figueroa at 4th underpass pigeons, today.

I'm at the end of my food supply for the birds, out here, in Downtown Los Angeles, and it's been a rough patch for this flock,over the past week, in my care and watch over them, which I'd been making sure to get to. I do 4 flock areas, in Downtown Los Angeles, when I come out here.

(Update): I had recalled that I found a container of some sort of rich beef soup, and I gave it to them. This past week, it seemed as that there might have been some people present, in the nearby vicinity, and the birds weren't perching at their regular location, in a notch, under the underpass bridge. The birds were super excited to get some food in them, as this spot is most typically my last stop, in visiting the birds of DTLA.

Another Downtown LA (Though Slight) Occupation and Riot - October 2021 DTLA Folklore.

 Who could deny it, for either living here or ending up here, any time over the past several weeks or so?

The evidence is present for the daytime locals and locality regulars, (such as myself) to come to understand. As pictured here, at the [… insert apartment complex name], property damage is being threatened and waged, lately, by roving waves of seemingly random, yet quite common casually psychotic individuals. It’s a burgeoning mental health crisis, out here. Much of the dissent and “acting out” is based upon some demographic crisis, of which the truth of the matter could ostensibly be difficult, even for professionals, social workers, and mental health outreach teams to effectively understand, in terms of some means of civil service being put in to effect, which could quell the ongoing drama and settle the unease of the citizens who reside here. 

Being on the ground level, out on the streets, here, myself, in particular - for being one of the dedicated bird flocks’ caretakers in the locality, as well as that I happen to patronize Skid Row drug dealers, I get, at a minimum, at least some conjectural intelligence and informed status, in regards to what seems to be going on, within the campus that precludes downtown Los Angeles. 

The mental health system is failing abuse victims, as the prevailing disposition that I’m presented with, for example. I do my best to accommodate my otherwise poor emotional support mechanism, in life, through aesthetic means, whether it be situational, environmental, artistic, and sometimes, I seek the pleasurable. Long days of persecution, of my schizotypal mind, by personas that fall by the wind, during the majority of my life - who truly is in my life, to any appreciable degree? 

My apologies, for making this a personal note, on my blog. It got neglected, of my earlier ambition to cover the greater mental health victims demographic, and I got swept in to a several-hours long remote sensing debacle, largely of forgettable and transient things, lacking in accountability, and yet seething with sadism about it. Apparently, one person cares to see me incarcerated, rather than that I take, for myself, an amount of crystal methamphetamine that drug dealers care to allocate and provide, of my purchasing from them.

Update: 10/17/2021: As it turns out, today would perhaps stand as one in which infamy reigned over personal freedoms and the autonomous mind. I made a report, last night, to the FBI (or tried to; there was an impassable form input error message). Would that have happened to have hijacked my attention span? All in all, I made some off-color jokes last night, and people are in an uproar about this and that, still; people from my past, who harbor a distaste for me, for my penchant for honesty. Today was a day of descent, so to speak, in to the recesses of the prelimbic mind, (which happens to be under review, or subject to < rescind >, “apparently,” as far as autocorrect goes). Yikes. Watch out, there. In any case, I founded this .institute aspiration and enterprise based upon much of what an intelligence and development enterprise ought hold as sacred knowledge; things that must be kept, throughout disaster and peril. 

The disavowal of pre-limbic mind. Mind control. I’m just, at this point in time, (acutely), being offered dissent, in regards to my freedom. It appears to be a home town row and hazing of me; I can tell: the type of demographic is telling, at times. People speaking so freely, and without care, or consideration towards me, and as I’d mentioned, I’m simply largely alone, in life, at this point in time. I suppose that I’ve upset some people. Not everyone, by any means, but quite apparently - some people.