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. 

The DTLA Civil Defense Audible Apparatus Installations (updating)

The downtown Civil Defense Apparatus first caught my eye as an interrent homeless person in DTLA last October.

The device looks as though it might be a flame-heater « au jour » for the civilians to make use of in public (which would be a fortunate thing, at some points in time; being myself: homeless). [revised: originally composed 05/16/2019]

Hill at 8th

Various lores about the need for these installations to have come in to place - namely to the effect of that they were old announcement satellite speakers that would herald some sort of Cold War anomaly going on.

Mid-Wilshire

Update: I happened upon another Civil Defense Audible Apparatus in South Los Angeles, the other day, after having jogged and walked back towards my home, from the Inglewood area. (October 16th, 2021); I’m now housed, thankfully, as an update.

Manchester at Harvard - Happy Fish Market | Ralph’s

Given various critical analysis; it would be obvious that there would ostensibly be a <_ alarms="" aloof="" an="" autonomous="" be="" being="" box="" crane="" dictattaphoneur="" for="" gain="" hoisted="" if="" in="" ladder="" lift="" man="" nbsp="" need="" of="" or="" p="" perhaps="" platform="" some="" sort="" sounded.="" status="" superior="" the="" there="" to="" up="" used="" visually="" was="" were="" while="" yet="">

Given the wear on the objects, and that [I believe]: that these things had been relatively new additions to DTLA and surrounding areas as of this past year, 2018. 

Maybe back then, the things did serve fire and heat

to continue; of that they are rusted, yet not thoroughly; and perhaps they are refurbished and remanufactured with some grit about the outsides of the poles. 

LA Metro subterranean blasting causes plurisubharmonic seismic vibrations, shaking South LA and West Hollywood.

 Being that I stay up for a long time; days, even (still, at this point in life), I have a keen sense of when things seem to go awry, of slight motions and activities of people around me. 

Today was a particularly strange day, nearly gone by, at this hour - of the “latest” waking period, as I call it, colloquially, in my own estimations. There were significant thunderstorms and rainy activity 😗 umm… yesterday, that is… since I’d not slept last night, as it turns out. <_<…? In any case, there were significant thunderstorms yesterday, and leading up to it, I felt that some sort of barometric pressure was pushing through the locality around me, even affecting me inside of my bedroom. Sometimes I wonder if it’s my ionic mineral supplementation intake, being subsumed by the planes flying overhead, in the jet stream line-of-sight, leading up to LAX Airport’s landing runway. During the day, there’s typically even shadows cast, commonly, over my head, or “in the way” of the sunlight, with the shadows of the planes flickering the light, shining through my window, or sometimes I go out for a cigarette, and I get flashed by the plane’s shadow. It’s enough to cook up some viable paranoia, right? 

So, the barometric pressure is one thing, the storms are another, and the reputation of the area, this being South Los Angeles, makes for a suggestible fable to be run by me, such as that “terrorists” are flexing their might, in opposition to the authorities, and they’re going around, blowing up the water mains, underground. On top of that, the story had gotten so detailed, such as to suggest that much of South Los Angeles was going to be host to a massive sinkhole, like the ones that we hear or read about, sometimes, happening in South America. 

But this evening, as I went out to West Hollywood to do some gig work, I felt a distinct blast; I heard it, as well, and some shockwaves followed the blast, so I reasoned that the blasting must be for the sake of Metro’s subterranean station and terminal outlets, for the private spaces and expanse required to keep the train lines running smoothly, which they do. I must say that hold-ups and delays of the trains are typically trivial in the Los Angeles Metro Train system, and they only last a few minutes, at most. There are two lines being developed, one of them the Crenshaw Line, which would reasonably assume that my area, running parallel to Crenshaw Blvd., would see some shaking, over in my area, of this sort. The other line being developed and worked on, at this point in time, is the expansion of the Purple Line, in to the Westside localities of Beverly Hills and Century City, going up Wilshire. 

So that was it, as far as terrorist plot explosions theories, broken water mains, and sinkholes becoming established. It’s all part of the workweek, in other words. 

The sun sets over rush hour traffic, somewhere in Los Angeles.

A 6th Step Meeting of Narcotics Anonymous - Reflection.

 As a former 

attendee of 12-step self-help meetings, I recalled, upon passing by The Lodge, in West Hollywood

(out on a jaunt, hauling my shelf back home, from Century City),

the eponymous “reflection meeting,” apparently characterized as a facet of a 6th step meeting.

It’s nesting time, for the pigeons.

 It’s the end of a balmy summer, out here in South Los Angeles, and the Harbor Freeway (Highway 110) underpasses are a favorite nesting spot for the flocks of pigeons. 

The Manchester underpass of the Harbor Freeway features a stoop for pigeons. I’ve been visiting this brood since 2018. 

Nearby, as I got out of a medical appointment earlier today, I came across a darling pigeon parent moment: the nest-making ritual. Here, the babies had already been born, and they’re growing up, fully feathered, and soon, they’ll be ready to fly. The parents make the nest, over and over, to teach the young some pertinent bird mannerisms, such as the use of the bill, for feeding, and for general use in procuring things that they need. Around town, the birds have the habit of asking for food by pecking around on the sidewalk, and the street. It’s what they know how to do, as a sociable gesture towards their caretakers - us, as humans. 

This busy pigeon parent was witnessed remaking the nest for baby pigeon. It’s exciting to see the pigeons pairing up and having success in breeding. The pigeons had been seen through a faithful series of seasons of regular feedings, and they’d been well supplemented this year, on top of that, so they’re taking care of themselves, and their young, particularly well.