January 3rd, 2019 - contemplating the new tri-sept-"something" orthographies of the passing days of the years (only less than one year, so far; yet the Fall and Winter months of October and December are so ostensibly logos about Decimary and hexa-octet number bases of logarithmic counts. (Photo: an ass-sitting slade cloud trawl orthographic slade-cirrus cloud)

For spending an evening out (or something) that happened yesterday, I ended up framing my day's overnight home-based development efforts on trying to provision my latest device purchase acquisition - a Viking ÏÏ RCA 10-inch tablet purchase from Target at USC for $99.95 plus tax and CA electronics recycling fee - $5.00, in trying to wrap my mind around setting up a [free] Wi-Fi tethering notion to get my other devices, yet here, last evening, the Viking ÏÏ tablet, so that I could perhaps get it on to the Google Play Store and set up accounts, get it to be a well-burgeoned tablet device for development, perhaps reading, or something along those lines.

I did notice that the tablet has a great battery life; for being new, and that large format text document reading and page-layout work would do well on the device.

I've been ruining my consumer identity around town by the hopeless drug-addict wakeful days in between taking my Olanzipine and crashing out, comfortably (mostly) during the majority of the past month. My receipts had gotten beat up, in the trawlin' slade of my small space living spot by the bathroom; the front living room is purely trash('ed) former bwammo-stent-catheter artery bleed of what could have been an au jour pigeons illustrative slight exhibition of a clean room open space notion that I had, originally, about the place.

Could I do bake sales on the SprightlySparrowSeedlings.shop notion to burgeon some sort of funding mechanism of rational museum / institute foundry leanings beyond the hapless tweaker trawl and corner "spot" neighborlyness positioning factor of the apartment, amidst the marijuana co-op "whatever;" (sigh) [perhaps] ostensibly they sell hard drugs as well, but I trust my Skid Row people to not be uncommon faces for what I'm shown' up for; plus I'd find it distasteful if I had such a trite leisurely neighborly slade of just peeking groundhog out of my sladeAF bwamm-man-cave [at least I developed - this winter - a valid cheese culture of Eggnog beginnings]; but no.

I did go out and try to get some recyclables collecting hours out on foot, and the hibernation, given the climate disparities from here: 90003.zipcode Los Angeles to DTLA - amidst the trawling slade domestic abuse living room and the self-somewhat responsibility burden that's obvious - yet I'd still say that the mess is not quite fully my own to live up and out from and claim that I'm simply so slade for domestic airtime cold and ghostly notions of what people would consider communicability; it's all very communicable via discourse and reason, considering the reality of that I would obviously consider myself a better person than that, given some words; yet the prospect of being involuntarily hospitalized is an ugly slade shade of shitsicles left unheeded, no asswipe, and there's never nothing to discover, of found-objects, for ass-wiping of an art historian humanities major of at minimum, Bachelor's Degree earning, such as myself.

That being said, I've got what appears to be a uniquely professional (now) take on a case manager for my "case," which is an off-hand strange notion, but I suppose things could be magnitudes more depraved if a person wasn't quite straight in the sladeAF pronz-on hibachi teppan-yaki sweet sauce for his own meat - flossing teeth: sometimes.

I do still feed the birds.

The Wi-Fi and BLE tethering does work; although apparently not quite well enough to outperform my trite locality of the majority of my mobile on-air and thankfully - unlimited, regardless of how slow and legacies broadband Wi-Fi heritage research I'm doing it is has had been, and I don't quite find it so inappropriate. I can hold off most things of a madman's shortcomings, yet ... "Whatever;" - perhaps. On one hand, it is a new year, and the slade of this trawl of mobile web and app development has produced all sorts of scarcely scratching the surface of just how sladeAF and out-of-Gregorian calendar timescale (perhaps particularly a California notion); yet in taking a look at internationalization of ohone number calling code distribution, the United States of America is taking on all sorts of small island Arby's beefy slim slices and pork buns, without any notion of ever needing to spare the hog much, at the end of the lifecycle, etc.

For now, I do SprightlySparrowSeedlings, of farm work, myself, and even at that, it's a returned purchases thing, as it turned out.

I've got to redeem my better notions of myself on app and ccTLDs and gTLDs, so obviously.

Work out some legal Federal Government Entity and EIN and self-sladeAF? Nah, bwam-bwipsicles shirtlessness, no doubt'nif'nin', I'd had to square it away as, as a grants and Federal funding application residual wash-up on last year's development people's funding that it had been - ostensibly, they'll perhaps acknowledge that they were just fucking around and no one did anything museum cultural agriculture Urban appreciable, in the jaunt-slade'd bwammAF slade of the snifflin'ness and a jaunted AF slade look of a real one -

Something like that.

Maybe, though, something for children - completely aside from depravity, unbeknownst.

The reach and spread of the developer documentation libraries of big tech is far burgeoned in to a discrete technical lexicographies dictattaphoneuse of what problems were caused, what presents of them, and solutions of open-source pie-slices of a bake sale, perhaps supposing that people had not jaunted a small-islands slight population Earth's orthographies topographically sladeAF, perhaps by the view of a satellite looking down upon the bwammAF of this one - way jaunted AF slade bwammo that this one's about.

"Suppose?"