Yoipes! MacOS Versions of iPadOS apps are showing up on the App Store.

The transition in to cross-platform apps [iPadOS to macOS] is happening, right now, on the App Store.

Many of us who have been keeping up with developer.apple.com releases and features know that Mac Catalyst is an exciting new feature that was released with Xcode 11, not very long ago.

Now, just this morning, in fact: I started getting releases on the App Store for apps that I had purchased on my former iOS and iPadOS devices.

My MacBook Air is running the latest beta of macOS 11.0 Big Sur, and now iPadOS apps are showing up in the App Store downloads, as prior purchases.

Fans of productivity and pipe organs will rejoice at the macOS presence of apps such as the Strand and Ott Organ Apps by Markus Sigg, as well as LiquidText, for example.

Perhaps these developers had been amongst some of the first to jump in on the Universal App Quick Start Program, recently offered by Apple; or, perhaps, the current Intel-CPU powered devices, with Mac Catalyst, could create the Universal Apps in and of their own capabilities, since Mac Catalyst had been offered with Xcode since version 11 (Xcode 12 is the current transitional | universal app development platform for producing macOS desktop or laptop [in my case, a gold MacBook Air 2020] binaries out of iOS and iPadOS apps - a somewhat different stake in the story on Apple's decisions to move their product lines' CPUs to ARM-powered processors over the next several months and, perhaps, a couple of years, at most).

July 11th in Los Angeles, CA - Civil Unrest on the Streets Leads to Near Rioting Effects.

Now, granted - I don't particularly know or believe [completely] what truthfully transpires in a location outside of my sensory perception; stark and vigilant that I may be, at times. 

I trust the news organizations and subsequent articles that get fed to me, through articles and media outlets, 

at least as much as they fulfill my inherent fearful primordial mind.

That being said, I couldn't deny the truths: of the significance of the dailies of an actual "about town" trot through the locales, as various as I might, for as fortuitous as my strength and aptitude compels me to: typically, for the duty of feeding the birds, gathering their food supplies from the grocery store, collecting recyclables, and the breadth of how weary and road-worn I've become, leading up to the day that I face. I try to take it one day at a time; for all that it construes and that might be inferred from that saying. I've been trying to form my scheduling around the Grand Central and API 23 Intel crosswalk accessibility standards, be it that I am, commonly, colloquially construed of a multi-threaded and novel suite of minds, about me, as I manage my self as my vehicle - keeping the risk liability factors of scrumming up a misfortunate encounter that would lead to my arrest, for a warrant, for example. Trying to keep up the look of the upright recycling bum; as a minimum.

I couldn't deny that police officers and law enforcement have it rough in Los Angeles, in general rhetorical imaginations of what they face, in opposition; and so much of it mobilized and willingly militant, of the various terrorist cells that they are, in and of: essentially, that they fare brutality and innocent casualties as their modus d'operandi, however generally lacking in intellectual merit and statutory form of reasoning, that it stands to be, given a talking to, nowadays (even still), and for what they sacrifice in public relations for taking such short-sighted approach to their public relations vehicles.

Now, on that note, I sometimes find myself talked in to a vigilant cautious modality of transporting my self, and my carriage, of which, in my most-latest refactoring of consideration (of what I might be, and appear as such, to the public's eye, for scrutiny - this is DTLA and greater Los Angeles, California; that being said. There are sensitive tastes and finicky appetites at stake, on the much-as-for-the-(largely)-unsupposed side of the schtick, for many of us, young ones - particularly as that we had grown up in imperfect settings, and had been subjected to nurturing environmental sleights and abuses, rendering many a sort, out there, predisposed to a mutiny, so to speak, on this ship that is the vehicle of our lives - rhetorically speaking: we live in America. We've known it, from our upbringing, or from hearsay, or propaganda - be it as depravity's siren call, that it might, in becoming - on deeper considerations - some people do take advantage, of a slight and subjective bias foundation, ignoring the bigger picture, of consequences - sometimes: I'd say that sometimes, people simply choose to injure the lesser formidable primitivistic victims, of an opportunistic | misfortunate circumspect in dynamic relation to each other.

Dictionary

cir·cum·spect

/ˈsərkəmˌspekt/

Learn to pronounce

adjective

1. wary and unwilling to take risks.

   "the officials were very circumspect in their statements"

   Similar:

   cautious
   

   wary
   

   careful
   

   chary
   

   guarded
   

   on one's guard
   

That being said, it was the word that had transpired, of the moment that it was. That each one, as the dictaphone transcription had turned out, takes the circumspect outcome, put under duress, and the news media reports on it. 

That's about the degree of viable credibility that could be construed, out of organics in form and foundation, given a spread of days, given months, that the COVID-19 situations and underpinnings have been going on, largely underneath the watchful eye of « someone », I'll acknowledge at minimum that much: I do have to live up to a reputable aspiration seen through to fulfilling [at minimum] admirable deeds and sober words and affect that transpire, of me; improprieties that they might be, of various constraints, given ethics: I do try for at least API 23 accessibility and crosswalk Grand Central in time-threading. Sometimes, the timing is done for me. 

This past outing, however, I jaunted my carriage through and up out of Santa Monica, by night. The drops in barometer seemed like trivial concerns, compared to conceit, that I might typically have of myself (I get abused, commonly, in my internalized mind. Autonomy; none, that I expect, of my mind and my framework, most typical, that it turns out, in being). Novelty-ridden bum, as the latest contention of what might and had been construed of me, being the topic consideration, of some, that it had come to pass, to have been laid down, upon me, as the significant delimiting factor in judgment that was being tossed about, in some remote-[unprofessional]-working environment: much of to woes, given tides of the days, as they'd come, recently. This COVID-19 stuff has been going on for months, now. Out in DTLA, things are at a serious pitch, at a whim. 

Today, 

(as it turns out)

Although, yesterday, in truthful actuality 

I had just stayed up all night. Now it's the morning. I'm blogging the report, for the insider prospectus replete and formidable news drop sequester - the final word, on the street, somewhat, as far as the scrum of last night.

That being said, the night went on late, and people had been particularly « nearly » at a rioting whimsical, of my pigeons-carnival [other] as dynamics, in the situation. I tried to, and - 

on some level, okay.

I did do the actually, of an actual day and night in passing.

Typically, I'd have fared worse. But I did take my medication, and I did fall asleep. 

[reblog] A compelling Facebook discrete voice-channeling technology: https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=891082661373559&id=352917404885219

HubSpot has a cool email signature tool.

HubSpot, an online community and marketing resources blog, has a quick and elegant online tool for creating an email signature to give a polished look to online communications. Here's mine:

Jay Ammon Founding Director Publishing | iPigeon.institute 1 (323) 485-7429 jay.ammon@ipigeon.institute https://www.ipigeon.institute DTLA | South

Create Your Own Free Signature

Here's the link to HubSpot's email signature generator.

What's there to be had of Google's latest (mid-June, 2020) SEO reorganization?

It's a significant topic news drop moment, when Google shifts their algorithms for the sake of establishing more meaningful and worthwhile results.

Here's what I've noticed, or drawn inferences on:

For example:

 Well, okay. Here's a peek at my personal account's web browsing stats, here and now, on the 25th of June, 2020 (evening):

On Juneteenth (June 19th, 2020), amidst the media rush, some calm, in the park.

Hmmpf. I'd say that this is a poor time to try to compose a blog, yet I ought to reflect upon the fact that it is a newly endowed holiday upon the internet media masses, and I'd been huge on keeping up to date about news, lately. 

On one hand, it's a bit of a difficult space for me to fulfill, as I've had personal problems laying out broad forefront stuff, of my memorable or reclaimable self and identity. Meanwhile, though, the rallies and gatherings in community that have been showing up, in front of City Hall, [DTLA], as much as I had been, for the birds - suggests that this is a time of needful reform, and of re-affiliation with what makes us, or draws us apart, from one another.

I feel people out with their present and portrayal self - I get scant scud junk, much of the time, as far as voices that persecute me, in my mind. I imagine that they've got no oversight, and no cares towards a sense of authority, and maybe they've got a simply subjective framework of identity, from their look at themselves, and they'd perhaps neglected to know what was being lost, in the eyes of others. 

On some level, I saw it, myself, this morning. I'd tried to work out a standard work week, of a day's shift work, and heading home for the night. I made it through it, with well enough for showing up merits about myself, yet last night I stayed awake, in anticipation of getting my MacBook Air back from Apple Service repair. I had [then] unimaginable resource of capability offered to me on a desktop publishing platform that is the default landscape view of the widescreen - different, most certainly, from the handheld columnar profile of the mobile tablet or, in my case, my cheap Android base model phone.

In any case, I feel like I'd made some ground in attaining some unimagined knowledge and know-how, while scrumming around, on the internet, trying to get my stake and claims in, of the unemployment and worker's benefits programs, that had been distributed en masse, as well, along with developing and ongoing topics, largely of crisis and critical mass, in society. Perhaps some of the folks who are showing up in to town, recently, from elsewhere, had likewise, been disassociated from the latest in developments in what was afforded to society, as far as civil rights, which is a bit more consideration than I typically offer people, of what imaginative forms embellish themselves upon me, in life; whereas that sort of evocative muse ideation was simply a fleeting moment, for me, while in the bathtub, and I'd just got engaged, sort of celebration, type of thing. 

But I leave it alone, it's been known, and reputed of me. I've (sure), I've failed at it, previously, as the formerly known of, as it was - from the talk-ups of which I could now recall, in my memory: "the lost puppy," that I was. A hopeless straggler, of some form of desperate lonesome sort, who'd been abused, in the mind, looking at others, hoping that someone would fulfill some empty facet of self, in personality, through something engaging and life-re-affirming. Something like love. 

I chose what had become familiar, and I feel like I'd largely believe of myself, the same that I'd see in others, for what I'd known of people, at that stretch of time-span, that it was, up until my quaternary isolation, for a new web of "all sorts," whereas I was taken by stuff that I was in to, on the web, and that feels like it's so recently familiar for me, although it began happening to me when I turned 30 years old, 8 years ago, from this point in time. From then until now, it's still largely been a mystery, and a jumble of miscommunications, poor timings, and lots of the same ol' stuff substances-seeking behavior, going on, of what I could muster, in life, of what felt like the good life, for a long stretch of time, in my earlier young adult years, when I'd attended university, and paired off with someone. 

During that time, I'd developed upon my earlier youthful culture side-loading ingestions of hip-hop, psychedelia, and black metal music had formed of me, heading in to college with a unique and adventurous optimism over social bonds that had developed quickly, suited to my deeper sense of needfulness, in affection, which was fulfilled through meeting my [then] girlfriend, whom I'd developed a relationship with, over the course of nearly 6 years, from that point. 

That being said, it's a long stretch of time, in terms of young adulthood, even at my age - which is 38, at this point, of conceivable extent of relationship that lasts, and is tolerated, for the mess that we make of it; each to our own, yet, over the years, I'd learned much more significantly to acknowledge my own shortcomings, in recognizing when I was known, most certainly, by others, for what I would hide, of admission - as what would inevitably show itself playing out, in the lives of others, as I traversed around the locales of Los Angeles, as a homeless person, with no particular bond or draw on society; much - not many people much spoke to me, during those years. 

Yet, through much of the fog of what young adult life turns out, in being, for whatever ills that we ingest, and take of and upon ourselves, in knowing that we'd been brought up differently, for one thing; for another thing, we'd largely failed at socialization in life, for choosing to bring others in to our web of internalized problems and fantasies. As I got older, I became much more secure with being left to myself, and then, one day, I faced a reality of that people would deny me my former autonomy, irregardless. 

Even with this, in mind, I [somewhat] have a sense of that I just don't know, off hand, "who" does that to me. I figure, then I think about it, and then I remember, and it's just simply unpleasant, and I dissociate from the occurrence of ‹ some › people's images, in my mind, for what I'd believe that I know about them. 

For me, though, bringing things back in to present-day relevance, I find that the person who causes those problems, for me, has rarely seemed to have been a black compatriot, that I'd known, over the course of the various distinctions and stages in which I was brought up - through my parents themselves, through the teachings of the Bible, from kids who stole me away from that stuff, and from my parents' establishment of a more stable framework, in life, to university, where I had mostly free roam over the choices I had, given responsibilities to fulfill. 

The loving care towards each other, and the burdens that we, as outsiders of what is much more, (for most people of Los Angeles), to bring it into the scope of exploring and living out lifestyle-locales, such as South L.A., which is a vast expanse of territory of segregation by choice, to a large degree, based on fear that's been wrought of our minds, of cultural "others" in society. 

Black people have the kind of devoted and loving kindness towards others, whereas people draw fearful notions of them gathering in large groups - of the sort that sometimes brings tears to my eyes, of a truthful and genuine sort. For me, they carry that kind of needed facet of togetherness, in society, whereas I feel like I can relate, not for my own distinct "otherness," of my various stages of upbringing, but of what black people had, here and there, adopted, of me, for what I could offer, for them, of various things, or for things I was good at, sort of thing. I somewhat largely felt like a tourist, sometimes. 

But one thing I never do is disrespect a man for what's good, or better, about him, for what he could portray of himself, whereas I somewhat walk a thin line, it might seem - yet I'm woefully offered consideration, for publishing stuff, in timely-enough documentation, given that people are - out here, constantly pushing for the ends of structured society, for the types of things that I just don't care to remember, or reiterate. Yet I feel like some people would care to impose upon youth, yet again, the mistakes and transgressions, upon God's word, in the Bible, which some people simply seem to have altogether none of it, whatsoever, when I encounter them, out in the wild. 

These types of things matter. Cock don't matter, color don't matter, it don't matter, much, what some people say - in certain sorts of frames of mind, yet these are still common faulty beliefs of much of society, in to the youthful adults that come shored up, out in California. We get it out of them, in casual inferences, or moreso as unwitting slips of the slight, that comes to transpire, of what people seem to simply feel is themselves, whereas I'd be like, "nah... you just can't... you can't be that, anymore, sort of thing. You'd have to leave town, or something." [sort of thing]. 

The golden era of that sort of dissonant self, in expressing identity - comes to a concrete slab, of patient Christian identity, which, for whatever reason, for what, or whatever, I feel that the Christian identity is also, likewise, strongly represented in the black people, and they'd support a kick to the curb of a person on their way out of town. It goes deep, sometimes, out in Skid Row. It gets of on poo poo moments out in the open, yet people are not quite brought in, for arrest, for having to pare down to their bare and most human self, circus that it might be, aside from all that. 

Then, the pigeons-carnival of that which is the rest of downtown, is a large mix of so many other people. I don't know much of some other cultures I observe, yet I try to keep it upscale, and classy, after leaving Skid Row. But, as I'd offer, in affording someone new, some perspective in, on local culture - take in all of Los Angeles, with an open mind, when you meet me as a local guide, but some people... they're just trying to get out and rob me, for my devices, and stuff. But I feel like it would establish enough controversy, over time, for people to simply know better. Maybe it's my mind, that they rob me of, but some people love me, here and there, and some people seem to just be afraid of affectionate love, from another, whereas the device simply seems to show out, as the more compelling form of moment to gain, whereas the person is largely not there; for what truthfully could establish itself as compelling study in social media account portrayals of one's self. Some people are that blatant, in not otherwise being professional, of an established certification of rational and ethical merit, in life. Once therapy meets them, I'd have hoped that they could have been the fixie that fixed it - I'd done of their self, in identity; or maybe that it was lost, in the words that transpired, yet I'd feel that I'd done it to them - most surely, of spinning their mind some appropriations, in words: words that truthfully have meaning, and the lean, from the meat - or ‹ something › like that. I don't always say everything right. But usually I'm just tryna' take drugs and go feed the pigeons and sparrows, sort of thing. 

That's what some people game out, as a huge stretch of my own, as well as their own, of their life, that they make of my self. I don't know. Black people don't really treat me like that. They seem to understand, as long as I know how to act, and be friendly, and stuff. It's pretty standard not all that scary, yet I feel like some people really develop this alternate self, whereas for me, I've got to show up every day - for the birds, and birds live on rational schedules; they're nature-bound creatures, by all means of God's goodness. On that note, some people simply choose to be evil, for the moment, and it's a rare shame that it happens to a vested local of so many years of Skid Row, in showing up, but if a person simply never starts doing it, then it's not quite simply like I'd believe that they're sober and drug abstinent, to a disturbing degree. Some people could admit it, for others... they're truly disgusted by the rampant drug abuse and humanitarian crisis that comes with the casual neglect of fwaunching identity out in the Skids, shittin' porta-of-potty, of on, and come back when they ass-wipe next time, for that baby doo-doo shitsicle stint, sort of thing, if it ‹ might be ›. Some people would just have none of it, whatsoever, and they end up bloody and filthy as a wrinkled old one, by the time they make it out, in being honest, in life. 

Beyond that, there's so much of the arts, and of culture, that's been forcefully taken from me... sorts of faceted, deep-seated stuff, and some people just would have none of it, whatsoever, which I could somewhat understand, I'd not yet brought a friend out to Skid Row, with me, although I'd like to... I feel like they could pass, perhaps, and it wouldn't be an all-out slaughter of them, (over some reason). Yet on a day like this, I try to remain fairly grounded, and in truth, I'm doing this Scientology thing; here and there, somewhat, and it's vastly simply unfamiliar to many people, and some people just don't care - but to be worse than just "good enough, or better," was never quite, of most-latest, of tech, n' stuf, and then - that's what I've got in my backpack, and my sling bag - that's for my man-purse necessities. Then I'm collecting recyclables, and stuff. 

Pretty tough to wrangle up support against me, for my backpack, and stuff, and then, even walking up to me? Pretty scarce, that they'd last very long, or really like me, for what I could offer to them. 

But the bums, of today? They're somewhat not bums of just anywhere, they're showing up of on casting call basis, of scheduling, for being a stark one ‹ pigeon ›, which I do, which is okay. I'm kind of here, for bums, to walk up and try that on me, sort of thing. Sometimes, though, I just couldn't much have done any better for them, and it just ended like that. At some point - I just leave, somewhat... [in some other configurations of life, going on, sort of thing]. It gets problematic, and then, beyond entertainment - there's collecting recyclables and smoking cigarettes, yet, for the endless transcriptionist - an of on fwopp-mode bwopp, then I'm done.

Apple's au jour banner offering of a COVID-19 infection check up self-service.

Here's my results.

COVID-19 Screening Results 6/8/20, 1:07 AM

 

You Should Self-Isolate

Based on your answers, you should stay home and away from others including those in your household.

Your Next Steps Isolate From Others

You should limit your contact with others including those in your home. If you can, have a room and bathroom that’s just for you.

You should stay away from others for at least 7 days from when your symptoms first appeared. Your isolation can end if your symptoms improve significantly and if you have had no fever for at least 72 hours without the use of medicine.

This can be hard when you’re not feeling well, but it will protect those around you.

Rest and Take Care

You should eat well, drink fluids, and get plenty of rest.

Monitor Symptoms

Monitor your symptoms. If they get significantly worse, contact a doctor or a medical professional.

You May be Eligible for Testing

Check your state’s guidelines to see if you should get tested for COVID-19.

Your Responses

You are between 18 and 64 years old
You are experiencing symptoms
You do not have relevant conditions
You have not traveled internationally
You’re not sure if you’ve been exposed to others who have COVID-19 You do not live in a long-term care facility

You do not work or plan to work in a medical facility
State selected: California
Your anonymous answers will be used to improve this tool and better understand the spread of COVID-19

Completed June 8, 2020, 1:07 AM

https://covid19.apple.com/screening/ Page 1 of 1

Clouds on \Tilt: the mysteries of « beneath the jetstream » [photoblog]

This is clouds on tilt.

These are clouds on tilt.

This is standard marine layer, with the morning summer sun, overhead, to the east, of the off-shore South Bay inland and San Gabriel Valley regions. 

The mysteries of the shortwave radio frequency bandlengths of government-issued private bands, proprietary bands, and public bands of the broadcasting and radio wavelengths bandwidths sometimes feature what seems to be unnaturally-developed cloudSphere, in the day and age of that the surveillance state is long bygone of the marvels and wonderment of the youth culture, here in America. 

Conceivably, under a high-energetic ionosphere sector of sky space, such as the jetstream of landing-staging of planes that are headed for Los Angeles International Airport, otherwise known as LAX, amidst what establishes itself over Air Traffic Control messaging, of the usable radio frequency broadcast bandwidths, the crisis response apparatus, of the remote-sensing and emergency broadcast systems are relentless features of human perceptual experience, devices present, for augmenting the transmitted signals, or not. 

A sober-minded person, here, of a generally organic basis of placement in society, being conceivably generally "good" and law-abiding in nature, is perhaps commonly privy to establishments of outlier identities having been driven to psychosis, whether autonomously, or by design, given the signal-to-noise ratio of becoming cognizant of that actual intervention measures, of the atténding law enforcement and surveillance intelligence partiments, of dispatch measures, have taken to estabishing recognizance and awareness on the ground, in whatever delineation of quadrants of shortwave frequency bandwidth, of the locales, given that the budget and personnel constraints are suitably met. 

Here, I was recalling, and personally attending to: some antisocial personality flare-ups of some unfriendly developments, both at home, and that which may have been seeking to follow me home; parallel by the vile parasitic onslaught that is apparently clothing-scabies; of which I've been largely staying on top of, in dominating the invasive species. (I thought that they were originally ticks, but a doctor suggested that they are, in fact, scabies. 

iPigeon Games that I Play. [development, self-expression, inner child]. Update: I can play spinner.

As I'm out, in our region's civic centers, and pedestrian districts, [or at home, nestling in, for a content publish push and post, on the Internet], in between newsfeed intake, social media rapport and upkeep, and checkin' my face - today, I had sooo embarrassing boogers in my nose, which I discovered after talking to people; and I have to live this life out somehow, still - I play little iPigeon games, as an aside. 

These iPigeon games are cute, darling, and endearing standing attestments to what's commonly otherwise referred to, ‹ in our upbringing › [or, in the former generation], as attending to the figurative context of the "inner child." Everybody can relate to the inner child, I'd say. As we grow and adapt in to adulting, we're, in intervals, fraught with abuse of what's otherwise "not know|in'| well enough, to twang it into context, whereas, as iPigeons-officinalus, of appropriate husbandry and heritage of heraldry, we're brought up as our best-selves, that we [rather, as underlings], are lacking of, given that our ‹ inner-child › had been inured:

A Black Lives Matter Rally. (June 6th, 2020). here, in

I took the trip from Ralph's in DTLA for groceries on foot, rather than via Metro, because I wanted to be sure that I'd catch any errant  and scattered birds that I had feared [had, perhaps] had not gotten a meal for several days, since I'd been here, at the bottom of Grand Park.

The military is in town. A shuttered DTLA.

Thankfully, I'd mostly been gone, or on the other side of town. 

Tryin' to do JSON API | REST calls, cURL commands as an iPigeon amateur - I found the solution for you. [web link].

I know how compelling it seems. The life of a true and fully of on fwappStack developer, 

This is a mushStack, of pigeon mush food, for their daily feedings. Not quite curry, but I can haz, tho ;-p 

who can afford the finest in curry accommodations for a daily meal, and still pull off the blue collar professional look; these types are rare, and lean, perhaps, of the imagination, out in Silicon Beach, Los Angeles, California, of the United States of America. Perhaps they suit themselves more sustainably, up in The City (San Francisco, California, USA). Yet, every now and then, a fanboy passes by, in a fwoppCar, cruisin', and fwammin' the Hyderabad modal scale flop-house four-on-the-floor, and for a moment, the notions of what became of the Asian Subcontinent immigrants, their children; the outsourcing community, Bollywood, etc. - largely still a silent, but pervasive and compelling community, of their coteries, fragrances, religious symbolism and moralistic virtues - which have their facet niche specialty store, here, in Santa Monica, at Thunderbolt Bookstore. If you haven't been there, I highly recommend it, for delving in to the world of aesthetics of the ‹‹ somewhat ›› unfamiliar, although the attraction to investigating first-hand: the cultures of the Hindu and Buddhist people is surely an enjoyable study of the virtues and intelligences of the people - a much more richly developed array of linguistic varietals than we, in the Western Hemisphere, had originally supposed.

A methodology of choice in movement patterns within the context of collecting recyclables.

A simple photo-aided workflow of how I « most effectively » "could" establish a search inquiry in to the trash cans around a formative establishment of a recycler's good fortune: a well-traveled and well-patronized gas station establishment, such as the Shell station at Olympic at Grand, in downtown Los Angeles. 

The gas station is placed at an impeccable location - right up the street from the Staples Center, where sporting and entertainment events are common. I'd commonly discover rich caches of discarded recyclables in the trash, for example. Sometimes food. On a couple of occasions, a patron of the gas station would offer me charity. A man, who called himself Baba, had chatted me up, one time. He told me that I seemed like a good person, as I dug through the trash at the gas station. He offered me some change. The Indian Subcontinent people can be endearing, at times, as this man was, in his persona about me. He related to me in a spiritually enlightened sense. 

Here, I had left the gas station, and I set out to do a full survey of the « recyclables » area, as I was intent on seeking out, and discovering - all the recyclables that I might find, and collect, on my outing, for the night. Perhaps I had an endeavor to pursue; a bill to pay, an aspiration for the coming morning, perhaps. 

The next block over is Olive, I believe. This slight locale features an up-and-coming corporate identity and persona establishment, with the Oakwood corporate housing complex seated next to a Starbucks. The height of developing adults' expression of self-esteem in the confidence of their burgeoning professionalism careers. Here, in this trash can, I'd typically discover nearly-to-wholly-eaten meal packaging, drinks from Starbucks, and hard Seltzer's, which are common recyclables to encounter in the trash, for the fact that drinking alcohol in public is illegal. Do the patrons of the trash can |slight| locality conscientiously disburse of their cans, after drinking them inside? [the car? ... perhaps?]. 

Maybe. I, as a recyclables collector, would hope so. On one hand, for my own benefit, but also to engender the notion that such recycling jaunts are a venture establishment of the overseers of the Grand-Central-|ing| of the schedule rotation of who the up-and-coming aspirational homeless ones are, of the recyclables-collecting sort. It's a semaphore development locality, in this neighborhood; somewhat bordering South Park, and just up the street, on this one, some eclectic and clichey small cottage establishments that made it out of the garage, or apartment complex - in to the relatively walking-distance-capable campus identity that a dedicated walker could suit, for the sake of establishing a local guides locality and persona marketing identity suitable for accommodating some leisure time, of the tech and lifestyle establishment afforded by the Google Maps and Contribute arms of the Google umbrella of companies and entities afforded by Google. Doing local guide "stuff" around town will definitely work the walking muscle, for the square mileage that DTLA is; although I say that it's all walking distance. I figure that I can check this trash can out, on some nights, and in the interim, establish some publishing merit towards a « perhaps » readership and participatory contingency of "people who talk to the Cloud Platform identities - the overseers and administrators of the City Quadrants: in a civic center where 1 or 2 streets "over" could be a completely different vibe, it's important to timely acknowledge and homestead the locale that one lives in, in a place like DTLA. I feel that the USC-large presence that's been establishing itself, through the Keck Medical Center, and the USC-labeled former AT&T highrise, is a demographic that's largely included in the Cloud Platform civic and governmental development prospectuses of the overseeing city controllers, whom a fond former acquaintance had related to me as a significantly impressive technological operation, behind the office doors, somewhere. 

Then, across the street, there's another trash can. This place, next to it, is a kitschy dive bar, or something. It's kind of a dog-poop trash can, but I checked it, on this night, and I was duly rewarded, for my efforts, even in spite of the fact that it's typically a dump and poop trash can. 

There's four trash cans at this intersection. One on each corner. The one at the corner outside this [seeming] city administrative building is largely likely the same story as the last trash can, as far as poop goes. I checked it, and I believe that I found some more riches of recyclables here. 

This is the last trash can, seen for the conquering of the intersection, by the recycling bum, [also a mobility-lifestyle techie-trekker]. This trash can had some wealth of some discarded stuff in it, for sure. 

The point is, is that, in Grand-Central-|ing| the semaphore of the slight locale, here; somewhat subdued, within the context of the recycling bum persona; yet rich, behind the scenes, of the stories of the people who patronize the trash cans of the intersection here - which is a fortunate one to « hotspot » for recycling's sake, in that it's conceivably trying and difficult to search out every trash can of all of DTLA for recyclables, yet it's a reasonably good jump off point of an outset and basis of a recycling bum identity, which reaps the rewards as such, miniscule in fiduciary scale ad it might be - it endows the partaker in a more rugged and well-heeled, more sustainable and pervasive identity of homesteading one's way in to appearing to be a valid local, which is an enviable pursuit to succeed in, in the high-threshold rental basis of the apartment lofts and condos of South Park, DTLA, as well as the furnished corporate housing establishment that is Oakwood (I believe that they are the primary corporate housing establishment, nationwide, last I heard). They do furnished and short-term leasing, on a more choicey budget scale than a well-situated budget, of establishing locale identity in a persona of young-life professionalism, as I'd formerly discovered, and lived out, as a renter of the Marina Del Rey Oakwood apartment complex branch of the company's several offerings throughout the greater Los Angeles area. 

Maid service, too. 

The point is that, in proper methodology, in data-scrumming; here, recyclables from the trash cans, context, basis, intent, and Grand Central semaphore development contingencies, such as seen in more refined establishments, such as cloud computing, are portrayed, in the scope of the trash cans, for the recyclables - for what it's worth, the seeker who goes the distance: here, it's only four corners of an intersection - gets the rewards, at least sometimes. 

In executive and administrative functioning, it's important to viably monetize every moment and movement about and around completing a task. The developers of civic establishment and zoning do the ground work, and corporate enterprise provides the visionary paths through which people live out the meaningful pursuit and outlook of their lives, meanwhile also having the potential to affect others within the locale. 

Neglecting suitable and viable monetizable facets of an archetypal city quadrant, or data set, of a subject-contingency, is sure to suit all of the unlikable facets of neglect, in the first place. 

The recyclables aren't going to collect themselves, after all. 

Opinion: What the nationwide uprisings signify, of a sociological and urban evolutionary perspective.

First of all, I'll be succinct about my stance on the Minneapolis crisis over the death of a suspect, in the process of detaining the man. I fully support law enforcement in their protocols. 

I feel that this simple basis, as a perspective in on the issue is largely what's at issue with the crowds of protesters, who are obviously primitively flaunting their suppressed egos and battered self-esteem, in times such as this; not to mention, it's the end of the month (May, 2020), and it's a duly fearsome time for many recipients of welfare. 

Whereas my general disposition imperative, of several to many of recent years, has been to ally myself with the dogmatic spirit of the 12 Steps program, in recovery and rehabilitation from drug abuse (which had just last night wreaked a bit of havoc upon my life's stability - I indulged in a debaucherous night in the Baldwin Hills Motor Inn - a local dive spot that was discretely introduced to me, for it's hourly rates and chintzy mirrored walls and ceilings. 

I couldn't take my eyes off of my new MacBook Air, which I had purchased just earlier in the day. 

... 

Which brings up another point in perspective - I got my Economic Impact Payment, from the U.S. Treasury Department - which I find to be a significant ringer in the debate as to whether or not Donald Trump will be re-elected, as far as the margins leveraged upon his persona and supposed identity, which has been largely exploited and unduly defamed, of reasons and intentions unclear to me, despite the fact that these views are also [had been, and still are]: first hand relations to me, on my Facebook profile. These types of contentious posters are somewhat just casual relations and acquaintanceships, from meeting once, or several times, perhaps, of a superficial sort that had not seen much reciprocity in nurturing a deeper connection. 

Oh well. Such is social media, for me. 

Then, there's the world of shortwave frequency band resonance broadcasts of the futuristic world that began nearly a full century ago, and which was developed through programs such as the MKULTRA intelligence programs, of fabled lore, yet not undocumented, and relevant, at that. 

The force with which a person is being controlled, for the subject (as each individual, of this abnormal psychological assay and surveying battery of diagnostics and tribunals lays it's vast expanse - of the world of psychology, in it's many facets. 

The duly manifold consequentials of that the COVID-19 pandemic are somewhat that the logistical and embedded worlds of the Physical Internet, the internet of Nearby Connections, and the Internet of Things are reachinga state of maturity in technical engineering, of a finery sort, such that devices of a physical circuitry board, and manufacture, are resonantly scalably accommodated, as virtual periphery - what we (I, at minimum, can acknowledge it) experience as remote sensing and remote surveillance; of which, amongst my peer groups, of social media, and former school days, of corroboration - I am a most centralized subject of inquiry, for the sake of efficiency and efficacy of the observants, in and around my periphery and contextual relevance; of indices of influence, of measures by which statistics and logic lay fare of their basis, upon the inquisiting mind, over man, that it might sometimes be. 

That being said, I've also come to a fairly mature stage in my development, of future technologies, within the facet of remote sensing, as well: known as space drama, as inquirers of the internet in to a short-term study in to Scientology, for example, could attest to, as familiar basis. 

That being said, these sorts of engagements are vastly cutting-edge urban and civic evolutionary models of establishment, and of expectations thereupon, and thereof; yet, in professional spheres, such as law enforcement, the psychological contingency of behavioral and forensic analytical skillset are largely at issue, of their formative scientific and civic basis, to begin with.

That being said, [I just recalled, in the non-editorial form of my writing as linear establishment, history would attest]: interestingly, (earlier on, in this text), the statement of "I just received my" was quite intelligently followed by: 

See for yourself:

 

 As you'd observe, let your attention fall upon the livid realization that Gboard, in all it's ubiquity of many libs and resources of development, in to the cutting-edge technologies of contextual DialogFlow, Tensor and Machine Learning, Artificial Intelligence, and more - all part of the host developer's (Google, LLC) significant investment in to establishing transparency in ubiquitous efficacy of user autonomy; ever becoming more [potentially] momentous, in it's small and every day facets of reach in to dynamics far beyond the individual's capability to suppose, and to « correctly » [accurately] intuit and predict the behaviors of others, the goings-on, of the world around us, and at large. 

Imagine that, for many centuries and millennia, thinking back on the topics of scrying, Inquisition, tea-leaf cadtings, fortune telling, and prophecies - these are all antiquated quasi-and-semiologically based interpretive fields of pursuit. 

These days, which we live in, technology subverts the unknown, through nurturing intelligence, establishing context and basis in people's lives, and in and of their formative establishment of relationships and social dynamics across a vast remote spectroscopy global endeavor. The linearity of individuality in contextually autonomy, per se, is such that could, ostensibly, have had been established, for the observant remote sensing participant, as well as on behalf of the counterpart observant, participant, overseers, authorities; such as this. 

Keeping in mind, that, in particular, in the field of technology, it's simple to acknowledge that there are authorities on various subjects and issues. Some people are simply better at certain things, at the time we find ourselves fraught with a technological existential crisis, that it oftentimes is. 

That being said, to centralize the contexts a bit, in mind:

Bluetooth Low Energy ephemeral identifications of signal broadcasting strength, par relevance of ostensible proximity of a signal gatherer, within the context of passersby and plotted IoT Nearby Connections, Physical Internet, and Beacon technologies - here, relevant, on account of establishing location and proximity data - are capable of synthesizing resonant mock-ups of physical and manufactured devices - simply through the harmonic resonance of matter itself, at inquiry - lately, the vastly relevant topic, as the Coronavirus testing subject is at issue, and as that Google and Apple had determined that their devices could, and would - with the ingenuity, [at scale] of civic and local governments, put to task: of establishing the localized contact tracing app, of which the whitepapers had been released by Google over the past month or two, in digitally published and distributed form. 

Remote sensing and shortwave and frequency-band spectroscopy is the more intelligent explanation for schizotypal madness. The assumption that we are ever truly "ourselves" within the foray of multiple autonomous intelligences is at issue. Conversely, at that, a lack of significant diversity in intelligences, and perspectives, opinions, morals, ethics, for example, is also an issue that comes in to play, when minorities assemble and become activist - violent. 

On one hand, the violence isn't much really the issue. Just as there are superiors and intelligence hiérarchies in tech, just the same - finding a superior of physically violence-force and willingness to commit - such things are primitivities, in the scale and scope of what civic and urban life entail - that people of many various social strata and structural underpinnings exist together, yet the social distancing prescriptive is something that becomes suddenly more frightening, to the peaceful observant of civic culture - for having been primitively violated - for having been bitten, for feeding a needful one, for example, or for being talked up a bit socially unintelligently, by a filthy homeless person, who was perhaps unaware of his detriment upon others, perhaps intentionally depraved and socially demerit, by decidedly marketing that persona, for whatever drives that person. 

What's the point? 

Perhaps many individuals were simply fraught of a multi-faring several dilemmas in life, and "... Who knows?" 

- just what business owners who shuttered their businesses are, or hàd been doing, during the pandemic, and now, in the reopening phases? Many establishments had significantly drawn back their Enterprise's physically indoor locations' accoutrements and offerings to the public, [through looking through the windows, from the sidewalks], and many other establishments partook of their entrepreneurialism spirit in offering marketable and within ordinance boundaries offerings of take out, and delivery, for example. 

It was a mild ecosphere for the modest entrepreneur to venture a new enterprise, for the outside mask vendors, here in Los Angeles. Some people flaunted a spark of social entrepreneurialism, by couturizing their statement and participation in wearing a mask, or face covering; here, of a decorative sort. 

Some people chose not to wear a mask. 

How things turned violent, in so many distributed locales? 

I'd venture that some of these cultures are languishing behind, in societal and civic evolutionary ecospheres, and appreciations of the magnificence of what technology, today, offers us, of aversion from needing to assemble, through establishing things that are marketable and duly just and fair, for an establishment entrepreneur of modest means and of humble intention; yet some things, of a biased identity basis ring clear, in recent interactions I've had. 

"Everybody knows English in this country." 

It's not [quite] how I was raised, so I'm not a biased one, on that contingency. 

I really don't know. 

... « what some people are saying, sometimes » ... 

But when the higher tiers of social and societal and spiritual support mechanisms are thwarted, the contexts of intent, and of affect, are of issue. 

Some people are simply deprecated, at the time we encounter them, as far as the societal standard goes. 

In civic activism, of a disruptive and violent nature - perhaps ignorance and neglect is at hand. These were ones that couldbt have been reached, in time, over here, in Los Angeles, and maybe some of them are simply not invested in a standardized and accommodable American identity, and through such identity - the lifestyles and promises afforded to Americans, which we had grown up learning about in our public schools. 

I'd say that it ought to take more than a physical identity (of a visceral and visible nature) to truly determine the quality and sustainability of a person, as individual, in this day and age. 

People are capable of adjusting and accommodating; of assimilating, and of evolving. Higher modalities of mindset and of acquaintanceship lead to much more fruitful establishment of identity and fortune in life. 

Over time, the violent threats become standoff talk-downs, from the ledge of leaving establishment, and for venturing off in to a sea, or ocean, of unattractive social identity foray; unsustainable, perhaps. 

For me, I remarked on attractiveness. It's one of the formative tenets of the recovery establishment, which, in and of itself, branches off in to the social psychology spheres of relationships, within the perspective of recovery. 

Handing over abuses and violence is quite simple to establish, and primitive; at that. The simple and primitive life is afforded to all creatures, lest we lose the good graces of what technology establishes, as a much finer engineering and scientific endeavor.