Some predating corroboration that others had found their iDevice, given pigeons, comparatively a fond marriage of affections. (a reblog from Digiday)

Source:

https://digiday.com/marketing/sent-ipigeon-best-agency-email-signatures/

Given that I happened upon (was well-paired, of personal traits, in affinities, thereof [of]), the branding establishment of “iPigeon” that was effected, of my personal happenstance, in seeking a blog publishing domain, for the sake of various developments to be worked out, and worked at, over the formative underlying basis of that the ideas would have website domain statistics and analytics to be measured, of viable popular themes of imaginative endeavor, or of intellectual foundations of new research, through public offering of these ideas and aspirations in article form, I was confronted, upon enthusiasm for happening upon custom domains under the oversight entity of Google’s stability in reputable product delivery of their commonly used applications and services - with coming to terms of that there was a first-off, prior establishment of such similarly organic originality in conceptual branding that had been established of the .com of the iPigeon brand company title; yet the variant flexibility in marketable branding persona was still rich, for the sake of many dozens of viable enterprise pursuits of a disparity contrast of respectable space, such that these contexts would not conceivably violate common ground, and enterprise, given expectations of soundness in decency and competitive ethics. 

Given that, I stalked my branding identity, the other night, and I happened upon another predating occurrence of the origin sightings of the digital iPigeon creature having sprung into existence, on some other Apple mobile device aficionado’s contingently particular quirk of that the individual was obviously fond of birds, on a personal level, as well.

Pretty pigeon, fluffy feathers.

I would term this “kitsch;” (perhaps, - :/ .. ) yet charming: I’d say, for its playful, candid, yet charming and affectionate [that it were, for the sake of the fact that the bird had distinguished itself before me, ahead of the boundaries stayed at by the rest of the flock, as though it were wittingly posing as the pretty bird, and that he’d been brought up of virtuous establishments and charms of his plumage, that he ought demonstrate and appeal upon me, as the morning’s caretaker of the animal’s daily necessity of, and significant life’s formative pursuit [of a pigeon, and it’s companions in the flock] - of discovering food, that he is also a good bird; for me, a personally touching moment, in that I had regularly frequented the Grand Park grounds, in years past, as a homeless person who was, then, and now, and from the time therein, between when I had taken upon myself the promise to nurture the local flocks of sparrows and pigeons, such that were found at the park, and as well, in other areas in DTLA, and outlying localities where I’d come across flocks and establishments of  [somewhat] “homed,” (I estimate, colloquially an amateur of the richer and obvious context of a more well-domesticated and intentionally localized, through nurturing, over years, of effecting a lofted (perhaps) establishment of pigeons), that might be more imaginably relevant, within a personal context, given urban society, of that we acknowledge that people in other urban metropolises have established trained flocks of pigeons, for racing, for show, for messaging, etc. 

In all of the richer context of what might be understood of the charm of the photographic composition, and of the story of that the bird might be seen to have been intelligently attempting to “woo“ me of a more consistent affections and cares to be offered to them, it’s fairly deeply much more tenderly sentimental, in that I’d, at times, have become ineffectual, forgetful, neglectful, detracted from, or thwarted in - various claims, all amounting to that I had neglected to return to the common establishments of the various flocks, around town, that I could regularly and capably fulfill my commitments to them, and that the purpose of such things were that I would expect that the birds would perform slight miracles of animal behavior for people to admire, of them, for having been cared for, and nurtured, of my participatory influence and small acts of attesting to the virtues of perseverance in seeing the promises carried out, on a gradual, and measured basis - attesting to the religious connotation of establishing a serenity amongst the surroundings of nature among us, and of God’s creatures, that the figure of Saint Francis of Assisi is carried forth, in our common societal mind, as classically relevant and emblematic of an unending foundation of what goes to be carried forth, in life, and society, of that we accept Christ and his teachings, and his notable followers, throughout time, as constantly needful identities in and of ourselves, to discover, and praise, for the natural and spiritual truths that the hold in our lives, that we might, in that Saint Francis is a popularly celebrated saint of our nation’s embrace, and understanding. 

as one significant context. The other, I imagine (having become distracted, for touching upon the more important context of religious significance in our commonly spiritually destitute lives, in urban society - [and doing it long-winded, at that] {hopefully within grasp of comprehension, though} - that this bird was, indeed, one of my ones that I’d cared for, in previous years, and how personally at detriment I’d become, of battling through irreverent and seditious human affairs, to the failure of loving kindness and nurturing, of which the (aside <_ -="" a="" addressing="" all="" and="" as="" asunder="" at="" attesting="" been="" bird="" bitterly="" but="" care="" carrying="" cast="" center="" contexts="" decree="" demand="" diet="" disavowed="" effecting="" end="" environment="" ethical="" fearfully="" field="" finest="" font="" for="" forth="" friends="" go="" gone="" grounds="" had="" have="" i="" in="" is="" issue="" it="" knowledge="" lack="" locales.="" many="" me="" minds="" mouths="" native="" needful="" needs="" not="" nurturing="" obviously="" of="" on="" other="" our="" performance="" perhaps="" pigeons="" positive="" psychology="" reinforcement="" s="" sake="" sciences="" so="" social="" sparrows="" support="" surrounding="" sustainability="" that="" the="" their="" there="" these="" things="" to="" understanding="" unfed="" upon="" urban="" was="" we="" weeks="" well="" would="">

In summary, the bird seemed to intelligently attempt, in a common bird’s psychologically natural manner, in preening himself, in evincing affections upon me, for the promise of returning more regularly for a feeding, of his formerly more consistent expectations that I would have been seen to have fulfilled for them, when I lived amongst them, on a day-to-day basis, as that I lived outdoors, nearby and within the same park, itself, which they’d since have had established some community and charm, of that the sparrows accompany the pigeons, as well - and that they have their own amusing and individual species’ manner of eating the bread, or tucking it away, for collecting, as the little ones do. 

 

Remembering and fulfilling my promise to feed the birds in DTLA, I reconnect with my grounded self.

Personal public relations matters have been a huge and consistent mess, in my personal and private life lately, ever since the approach and passing of Valentine’s Day Weekend this year. 

I’d been coming under personal attacks on a regular basis, within the confines of my personal space and home life; a significant intrusion and invasion of the serenity and stability of my wellbeing and of the development of establishing meaningful relationships to come, based on my outreach efforts I’ve made online, in my social media accounts. 

Even so, with this being the case, there are some glimmers of light that have shown through, in promising ways that I’m looking forward to following through on. It’s been truly a long time since I’ve connected with someone on a deeper personal basis, and I feel like the time is becoming ripe for me to find that sort of opportunity once again. 

As my readers and followers over the years would attest to, my commitment to feeding the local pigeons and sparrows has been one of my long-standing and richly-defining traits that have pervaded the content I publish. Being that my personal life had become a significant detraction from my current life’s aspirations and pursuits, I’d recently been letting the various flocks of pigeons and sparrows down, in that I’d become so significantly exhausted and forlorn, both emotionally and physically. They’d been on my mind, and dearly so, yet I struggled, and failed, thereof, in getting myself up and out for the sake of feeding them their daily bread and other treats that I’d typically regularly have for them. I’d become worried that nobody else in the community had been concerned with their feeding, and that their spirits would be let down, in the scope of a someday promise of that they’d become tame, and more friendly, in years to come, for the sake of this sort of personal nurturing, and for expectations fulfilled; for the rewards that are to be reaped of acts of loving kindness that all sentient and intelligent creatures long for and appreciate. 

That being said, I’ve since rested up significantly, over the past weeks, following Valentine’s Day weekend, and the birds were eagerly hungry and enthusiastic to receive some care, in the form of bread and baked goods that I’d had for them. It feels truly fulfilling, in a spiritual sense, remembering that I had happened upon the Santa Monica hand-tame flock of pigeons one afternoon, next to the Santa Monica Pier.

Today I fed the Manchester at Harbor Freeway underpass pigeon flock, and the Grand Park flocks, as well. Here’s some photos from Grand Park today. 

A rough and tumble Valentine’s Day Weekend.

This had been, undoubtedly, a Valentine’s Day Weekend of much-peaceful rest-seeking to follow that would have been seen. 

That being said, I won’t gloat over the highlights and enumerations; I guess that we all came out of it bruised and sore, like it were an erstwhile trip to Holland, and we were ill-fated of our southern California dress clothing, such that we found ourselves out in the cold. I’m not sure what anyone else, of my peers, did, for the holiday, but I’ll divulge that I was much up for the celebratory part in participation, be it what it may or could be, such that I could make of it, although I ended up not going out in my unicorn cosplay outfit, and I ended up talking our heads off, ending up trying to salvage what I could of some spirit of grounding sensibilities that we could all relate to; that we’d all have had about ourselves, yet the spirit of romanticism, amidst this modern day dirge of materialism, and social status stakes of one-upmanship were highly touted distraction events, and I suppose that, of any of us involved, we were all slight to lose our proper and appropriate selves, in the flurry, and the cold. 

Hopefully the spirit of what transpired is not lost in what carries forth, from here on out. In essence, we all desire significantly similar things in life, given a common ground aptitude and shared lineage of upbringing that we had. In that, I managed to bring up, for consideration, some moments which I found to be compelling, in their plainness and simplicity. We were not so much of a quarrelsome and disagreeing basis of identity, and genuine authenticity in character, back in our early years, when we were all children, and we found ourselves fraught with a traumatic separation from each other. 

The weekend, for me, ended up being a labor of dedication and wonderment, as I spoke on voluminous various contexts, trying to manage the scope and coherence of maintaining a public face, and composing a linear contextually relevant basis; a common understanding, for all of those observing, while addressing much-neglected and needful aspects of ourselves, within a limited and containerized context, which seemed to be the overarching story that brought us together, over the course of the days and nights of the weekend, forget the commercial and traditional context of Valentine’s Day, or any truthful establishment that had been violated - we were all in a similar boat, without any uncertainty - all single men, this time around. 

I ended up sleeping outside, and waiting an entire day to recoup my belongings, and start off towards home - a disheveled and obvious failure, though I took pains to win some for the common ground participants and observers at hand. All in all, I couldn’t complain, and I didn’t ravage my living stability status, or reputation, all that much. Hopefully we all got through it well enough. 

Here’s to spring! To new beginnings, through the warmth of the seasons, bringing us some simple satisfaction as through natural cycles of the year. Let it bring us the simple promise of renewal, and rebirth. Thanks for being here along with me, all along. 

Where to go for the best breads in Los Angeles.

Anyone who follows along with my daily outings to feed the pigeons would know that I’m a huge fan of bread. Check out these tasty breakfast bread baking-restaurant retail locations from the Los Angeles Times. It’s hard to go wrong on good bread.



The best breakfast breads in Los Angeles

The iPad Mini (5th Generation) from Target proves to be a speedy [11.1] model iPad versus the [7.5] 7th Generation 10.2 iPad. (2019)

Those of you who follow me here, from my Twitter feed, would know that I was in need of replacing my iPigeon (iPad) status with a new one; thankfully Target Circle came through with a most timely email notice that, once again, the online and national chain store retailer would be offering its iPad stock up for sale. I returned to the trough like a boarish hog; this, my third one this side of summer. (It's winter). 

Regardless, I got (always) some good and well-wrought developlent, of a best-so-far blogging month or January (hits-wise), and in general, I've been able to manage the [otherwise] debilitating stalking (in-my-head) sort of oppositional slake on what I ought to reasonably be thinking about, and commenting on. 

炊口 剪水 欲死問成今刀代慢咋，玩鹽層卜— 剪水序禮间中 兆閑序土 對覆萊嚟句食成次弓 剪水 iPad— mini（5剪Generation）（ 句食梁玩， 玩分靚廣友口剪門戈嚟錯片禮， 今剪水7剪Generation鹽門柏哋iPad。  

The pigeons at Santa Monica Beach showed out as a huge, yet tame (some of them) flock.

I'm very tired,  after staying out in the cold, and attending to many things out at the beach (including exercise). I'm hoping that the efforts I've been making, in jogging, and starting (hopefully) an upper-body workout regimen, will afford me a sturdier line of progress in stabilizing my outlook; I've become disturbed, once again, by identities from my past bothering me through remote broadcast means. 

Here, in addition to Dennis Bachmann,  the enterprise manager, as I'd known of him,  however - Christian high school pastor, David Yang, Anna Nguyen, and others, perhaps as an installment at the beach,  as well - participated willfully in harassing and interrogating me.  The authorities currently have little will, or perhaps resource in serving justice for the abuses lodged at me. Birth identity, drug abuse,  sexual identity,  and racial heritage were largely the explanation and stated purpose of the stalking I've been experiencing. They were attempting to woo adherents to the enterprise by flaunting promises of drugs and Supplemental Security Income government benefits - causally tied in to the Full Service Partnership mental health program allotted to me though the judicial system,  back in 2016. Some partnerings and romances, and as well,  infiltration of my private contacts had been stated as deception and mockery tactics used to denigrate and psychologically demean perhaps otherwise good,  better,  or worse demographics of women, who were significantly at issue,  of partnering with men amongst the group, as with dating as the basis, and crystal methamphetamine, somewhat as the decree. 

Aside from that,  there exists a large hand tame flock of pigeons that I  fed some pie and sandwiches to.