Checking in: What’s happening, and what’s there to look forward to, at iPigeon.institute.

 I’d been a bit absent, lately, 

in recent months. This has been due to personal difficulties, on account of various things:

• Back and neck pain
• Budgeting challenges
• Poor weather
• Perceived, or actual threats, to my personal security
• Persona developments
• Remote sensing acquisitions of my time

The truth is, I’d become a bit apathetic, and worry-worn, due to constant challenges and negativity surrounding me, essentially drawing a dark cloud over previous years, in which I’d had eccentric bursts of creativity and prolific resource of novelty and humor. These days, I find it difficult to drum up the same personal rapport and morale, being that the situations suppose, even more than I’d experienced, previously, since I began suffering from bouts of hearing persecutors voices, and from then until now - largely, now, have a distinctive dark taint of familiarity, amongst the characters whom present themselves to me, as harassers, which envelops my subconscious mood and fears of ever establishing yet another dysfunctional relationship, that I bring myself in to.

To be sure, it’s mostly guys that do this to me. With women, I’m much more optimistic, of that they could be “fixed,” perhaps, if necessary, or set aright, in some manner, if it came to that - it’s just sort of a feeling, more than that anything’s materialized; encounters with females are scarce, and not much of anything, although I have been feeling sparks of inspiration, in romance, in recent days and weeks, I’d suppose, and I guess that I’ve been working myself up to dipping my toes in the water, once again, so to speak. It’s a raw deal, that I run, being that I’m fraught with such a defensive and secluded personality framework spectrum of “possible” me’s, which I could make available, and secure some kind of workable sociability profile, for a lady, being that I’m picky, I’ve got formative standards and boundaries set for myself - I don’t tolerate much of any kind of conflict, or distaste, or aversion, to something that’s “not right,” or worse, in a relationship setting, being that I’m a very high 99th percentile degree of honest, and forthcoming, in life, I “don’t smoke (any drugs),” I’m very much present, in the moment, when it comes to opportunities to judge people, and on top of that, my neurotic spectrum of tendencies is still of that I’m generally shy, not much really capable of coming up with a right way to casually wedge my way in to some young lady’s life, and circumstances, and, furthermore, I’m somewhat expected to not even try to date, while on the job, for various reasons and rationale:

• I’m a bum
• My clothes are oftentimes messy
• Sometimes I sweat a lot
• I have a bunch of baggage - literal, bum and pigeon-feeding bum sorts of carry-along baggage
• My nose leaks and drips, endlessly
• I feel like crap, as far as limber qualities - I carry a lot of bags, as I’d mentioned
• A lot of people (women) could run circles around me, in socialization standards
• I’m there for the pigeons, and I can’t afford to look like a creep
• It’s a better trade-off, to be silent, keep to myself, and persist, in feeding pigeons
• I run a strictly fairly conservative Christian Protestant profile, of not much talk, or socializing
• I just keep to myself
• I have to protect my iPad Pro
• Sometimes, I feel like people are following me
• I have people making appearances in my mind, all the time
• I feel like some people definitely don’t like me, categorically, and sometimes, they show up, in town
• I feel like it would look funny, or scandalous, if I somehow materialized some kind of idealized female counterpart, at my side
• People put my personal private time at issue, and they criticize ostensible things that I do (or not)
• I have to do a sit-in job, while out and about, of performing licensed talk and behavioral therapist, marriage and family therapist, some sort of amalgamated public and mental health capacity type of fill-in, sort of work profile, lumped in
• Maybe these are just the “toilet can years” of this pigeon-feeding gig’s enterprise

Ask iPigeon.institute: why do my genitals smell like I’m dirty from out of nowhere, lately?

 I’ve been experiencing this phenomenon going on years, at this point, albeit in intervals. The experience of having this sort of debacle befall one’s self is a traumatic and humiliating one, to be certain, because most of us take care to keep ourselves clean. So why does this sort of thing happen? It would nearly seem as though we had somehow had a lapse in consciousness, where somebody had molested us, intentionally wiping their body odor on us, whereas we may have become aware of this; for me, for living out on the streets - it becomes a questionable occurrence, as well: then I clean myself, and it ends up happening all over again, whereas only a short time had passed, and there had been no established belief of that I had had a lapse in consciousness, or a strange encounter. Is it epilepsy? How could the continuity of time have been so seamlessly thwarted? It would, on the surface level, imply that there is a state of warfare, here in The Militarized Zone of DTLA and surrounding localities, of an unimaginable cost. There may be this sort of unspoken, ongoing strife and expenses wrought upon society, from where we stand, and stay, here, while intimations of “perhaps” truths are lobbed at us, some of them, an attempt to evince belief, others, to challenge us, of our beliefs, and some things that seem beyond belief. 

So, what is the truth? 

On some level, it’s important to simply just not freak out. Just recognize, or look it up: we do live in The Militarized Zone here. I didn’t know it until I started studying for my A+ certification, and I got the big book, for my studies. It seemed a somewhat aside note, yet somehow conceded, here, in this premise, for the techies. For the tech guys to understand. To gloat over it, or to disavow it would suppose that they’d been lying in this book of standard literature that many of us (perhaps mostly guys, this being the tech field and industry) had studied. I never went through with taking the test and certifying, but this inclusion of information was a preeminent and formative small facet of truth that was imbued in to my life. 

To continue, upon “not freaking out,” it simply “makes sense” that we’re here, by our own choice and volition, and many of us had been indulging in the vice industries, here. On some level, it’s somewhat “allowed;” even included, in the list of startup business licenses that are available out here, in the city of Los Angeles (at some point, perhaps I’ll come across this moment, once again, in my own startups pursuits, and I’ll include the link; I feel that it would be a bit of an arcane lore thing to rediscover, and cite, at this point in time. At least the article will have been written, already, though). 

The perhaps more sensible truth, that I’ll offer, being that casual remote sensing acquaintanceships and “portrayals,” I’ll say, are common - particularly for a guy like me, who tries to appear fetching and attractive. For example, an attractive young lady, about my age, or so, passed by me, as I was bummed out on the ground, earlier today. She was walking her dog. The supposition that I’d been attracted to her was gleaned, via intelligence, observing all of my interactions, feelings, thoughts, and emotions, all the time. Just maybe, she was attracted to me, as well. I personally choose to tread carefully, on this sort of context, since I know that I’m a bum. So how does this sort of thing happen? Is she a prostitute, smelling her day’s partner, and it becomes transmutable upon my own personage, for that a compellingly charming flirtation episode unraveled itself, as though she knew that I’m the pigeon-feeding bum? What did she really feel? was one of the suggestions lobbed at me. She was sociably a superior to me, as many women of this sort are: they get at the truth of sociability, in regards to many types of guys, and of girls who are like them, who live out this sort of prostitution-based lifestyle. 

Or am I being stalked by guys who are upset that they’re outside, and there’s a handsomer bum out here, being a narcissist, and they somehow command this capability? I certainly doubt that I had an unbeknownst (and, for that matter), commonplace sort of genitalia-smell exchange sort of sicko molestation sort of quick encounter, of a reputation that I don’t know about, happening to me. That would seem to imply an inordinate demand upon people of a type of cost and primacy basis, of being somewhere at a timely-enough jaunt, such to render me a more humble and hapless man, whereas I don’t really deserve that sort of outcome, in life. Sure, I had once (only once, though), been an ass-grabber, and I’d “somewhat” molested women, and all of these sorts of events were, in fact, consensual activities, and I was just a guy who’d been brought up, in part, of a detrimental nature, to have given me this sort of psychotic abandon and sense of entitlement of inappropriateness. So I did this sort of thing, many years ago, back in my youth. I don’t talk much to guys, so I don’t really know how prevalent this agreement of seeking and discovering a prostitute, for patronage, actually happens. Much of what I hear is conjecture, simply put.

I just feed the sparrows. I won’t deny that resonance warfare tactics exist, and I also wouldn’t quite suppose that people “don’t” commonly hear voices in their head, and I’d somewhat believe that people do establish face to f1ce relationships, perhaps sometimes, only, based on positive affirmations and positive conditioning that occurs, as a consequence of having been coddled, by what amounts to a support mechanism, of the intelligence community, that transpires, whereas I feel that the excuse is that we’re shy around each other, and perhaps not ready to really take the plunge, whereas more bold men, better for it, for a moment, or for a more long-term outset about things, are the ones who gain inroads in to establishing romantic relationships at this point in time, and so far. I feel that it’s well enough if I get people to acknowledge me and smile, perhaps, and it boosts my self esteem a little, when that happens. A truly serendipitous occasion, or opportunity, is a much more rare thing, although it more typically winds up in producing a long-term relationship, more fruitfully, and surely so, whereas I can imagine that it’s difficult to convince someone to not continue forth in life, as a prostitute. It’s awrr rawr rough and tough, not being a prostitute, I imagine. 

Finding a date on Thanksgiving weekend in Los Angeles, CA.

Everybody goes through it.

Well, okay. Maybe not everyone, but it seems like it's a commonly recurrent theme, whereas the chances of actually finding a workable spot or locale to find a date in from amidst the various street scenes, here in Los Angeles, are many, while it's become woefully obvious to me that many people I know, personally, have let their dating game wither at the cusp of middle-young adulthood - (It seems to me, that this age-era in life features several sorts of people who are still latching on to their youth, in terms of relating to people; that's why I'd still include the disclaimer of youthfulness here).

A person ought to know, by Thanksgiving's Eve, of what they intend to do and where to go, out here in Silicon City (Los Angeles). So what are the major options? Let me run through my memories, as a homeless person, of Thanksgiving holidays past. 

      Hmmm...

First of all, don't go to the beach. That would be the equivalent of having a Wikipedia romp on a topic subject of something of viable academic merit. It's going to be raining, and people at the beach are typically formed of cliques and groups of people. Being a loner amongst such vast amounts of people walking by leaves little room or opportunity for sparking a conversation through some organic and viable means. I've spent several to many Thanksgiving holidays out in Venice, as a beach bum, and the older I get, the less tolerant I am for hanging out with random bums; many of them had turned homosexual, at this age, and with me commonly dressing myself like a woman, I find that here and there, I'd simply have opened up an uncomfortable can of worms, in regards to discovering that some guy is now interested in me for unexpected reasons. I really do intend not to be cast-typed and set off for another year as an HIV risk, for the sake of a night of shameless pleasure and lingering regrets. As if. 

       Second of all,

Don't start checking craigslist for a date. It's lost the Long Term Relationships section, as far as personals, while the remaining one dating section, out of the formerly four sections dating lists is Missed Connections, which has turned succinctly in to a vast trawl of guys in search of someone to smoke meth with and become sexually active, without much long-standing potential to boost one's public status persona. I've known these kinds of people. They do the most inordinate sorts of things to a person, post-date night, as far as aftershocks. There's no... none at all, to little, (just some) chance of securing any type of viable romance on a chance encounter over craigslist. 

      Third, 

Downtown LA will likely be banging, except that it's going to rain on Thanksgiving Day,

Update location

Los Angeles, CA 90003

Thu, Rain

55

°F|°C

Precip: 90%

Humidity: 79%

Wind: 7 mph

2 AM

7 AM

12 PM

5 PM

10 PM

TUE

70°

53°

WED

59°

51°

THU

55°

46°

FRI

58°

45°

SAT

59°

49°

SUN

63°

49°

MON

67°

52°

TUE

68°

52°

WED

68°

51°

THU

67°

50°

 and the street scene  / bum population out there is largely guys who are leaning some-to-big-lots creepy. Whereas I wouldn't just outright disrespect a person's hard-life circumstances, it ends up amounting to that I myself become targeted and mobbed (sometimes) by some strange and unsociable demographic of people out in downtown LA. Regardless, the most common scenario is to not find a date on an outing in DTLA, at least for a guy like myself, who doesn't go and hit the bar scene. I'm covering the {actual} streets and sidewalks "street scenes" localities of Los Angeles where somebody with a budget as lean as mine could viably find something fun and worthwhile to do, considering that scraping up a date off the street could conceivably happen here, although with vastly short-term prospects.

       Lastly,

Echo Park is one of the richest cultural nightlife hot spots, running along Sunset Boulevard, near Chinatown. The streets are vibrant with bar and restaurant patrons spilling out in to the streets, a fair amount of homeless people, and miles of this sort of thing, at that. 

I'll keep this blog updated with what becomes of my Thanksgiving Holiday weekend, hopefully with some positive news!