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.

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e·pon·y·mous

/əˈpänəməs/

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adjective

1. (of a person) giving their name to something.

   "the eponymous hero of the novel"

   • (of a thing) named after a particular person.

     "Roseanne's eponymous hit TV series"

I had been here, before. It’s a large meeting place, and the meetings here were fairly standard. It’s a well-attended meeting location. As I’m “supposed to” attend Narcotics Anonymous meetings, as part of my reparations for being cited, and such as to have something to say for myself, as far as other, older issues, such as a warrant that I have hanging over my head, on an assault case, from back in December 2017, I believe (I was driven mad by competitive “tough guys” and seemingly roving crowds of judgmental people, upon me, as a floppy-wopsy bum - it was the heyday of Snapchat; where geolocation hotspots were the thing of the day, and I thought that people had made me an ad hoc geolocation spot of interest, while I was preoccupied with drying off, from a sweat - mind you, this was December, and hypothermia was looming); 

in any case, 

I’ve been slammed, production schedule-wise, and adjunct stand-in behavioral analyst [appropriation] -wise, and I haven’t been able to make it out to meetings, although I do want to have some basis in showing face, and some progress, on paper, because one of my court cases is due for a follow-up, at some point, in October.

Ah, reflection. Preparation. A willingness to change. 

Although I am willing to change, I’m, more truthfully, alongside the “seeking progress, not perfection” statement, of the 12 Steps program. I’ve simply got a vast series of explanations, as far as to why I hadn’t been able to make it out to meetings, although I’m with it, in spirit. I felt like it was due time for a reflection moment, since it had been a long time since I’ve been here, location-wise, that is. This is the end of Melrose (the street). For those of us who aren’t otherwise familiarized with Melrose, it’s an expanse of |West| Hollywood, as a major cultural center of the area, distinct in and unto itself, for its combination of young adult demographics, both in terms of resident locals, as well as tourists; the place itself is rich in tourism, as the east end of Melrose begins off of the 101 freeway (I believe, I recall - it’s been a while since I’ve driven, or ridden in a vehicle around this area, at all) - it begins as a residential zone, and come La Brea, 

it morphs in to a culturally fashion- and restaurant-rich eclectic hotspot, getting more and more upscale, until the street ends, at the crossroads between |other| West Hollywood, and Beverly Hills, marked by Cedars-Sinai Hospital, and the Beverly Center, as part of this |other| West Hollywood. The two other-other West Hollywood destinations are Santa Monica Boulevard, which is largely the gay district of greater Los Angeles, and Sunset Boulevard, which is the club, bar, and rock n’ roll nightlife sort of scene. Melrose is a bit more about fashion and fine dining, at scale - substituent to the east-west location, location, location bitsy I had mentioned, previously. 

Anyhow, I’m a commonly targeted stalking victim, and I’ve been reinforced on the concept of that I’m |here, in this case, as for tonight| the moving, roving targeted stalking victim, of just “perhaps,” even, but yet, I’m game for it, and I’m good, (or, should I say, “well”) for the taking. 

Trying, at least, to catch me unawares, that is. 

With my latest new “thing,” this fragrance ingredients hobby, and perfumed compositions mixing thing, I’ve got several options, with how I can set myself about, in life, as for sleeping, and as for having the resonant worth and character of my fragrances step in, for me, as the guardian and gatekeeper of my sleepful self. It’s not that I don’t quite trust the people, it’s that I’m continuously let down, in not procuring a suitable peer and companion for my evenings, in most cases. For example, I had just passed by someone, a little while ago, who seemed like someone I know, yet from a different area. That, in and of itself, was uncommon. 

Ooo 😛 now I found a pizza. I think I passed by the eccentric girl. Maybe it’s of no paranoid consequence, but … well, I dunno. I have had persecutors and adversarial intimations, in my remote-sensing minds, about me, about her, in the past. Is she stalking me, or something? 💁🏻‍♂️ pic.twitter.com/3PyCxL8UAW

— Jay Ammon, Founding Director at iPigeon.institute (@jay_ammon) September 29, 2021

Alright. That’s my reflection. I ought to keep on hauling this shelf on back home.