Pigeon-watching hotspots to see around town #5: The USC Dumpster Pigeons.

 This flock of pigeons hadn't always lived here, which is curious, because I could trace back to days of pigeon-feeding that I'd done, where I knew this localized flock of birds, from somewhere else, namely, The Hoover Recreation Center and Public Park. At some point, however, I suppose that the birds possibly were mistreated, or, for some other reason, they found greener pastures - here, at a transit thoroughfare peninsula parking lot, to be succinct. I call them: the USC Dumpster Pigeons, since the spot is within the University's grounds, more or less. 

The USC Dumpster Pigeons (left), alongside the famous dumpsters of the place.

This flock, although slightly out of bounds of Downtown Los Angeles (I figured that these flocks hotspots would perhaps, someday, become more well-populated with people, as well as pigeon watching and feeding sites, along the lines of a tourist day time attraction, which would, in effect, encompass a series of viewing locations, in sequence), is one that I'd known, practically back to the beginning of my pigeon-feeding and pigeon-blogging ventures, which had started around the summer of 2017, at which point, I had decided to try and participate in Tumblr's Inktober annual illustration blog bash and celebration; me, starting out with an ink brush, and some drawing paper.

This flock, itself, is rather charming, in their naivete, being that there's so many young ones, and, for the most part, their daily fare is tack bread crumbs, thrown out, by one of the businesses (I guess that the fact that they are given regular regard, of any sort, by the neighboring businesses, is appreciable). This flock is eager to nibble and munch on some tastier far; soggy fare, as I'd have it, for them, since there's no water source, nearby. 

The USC Dumpster Pigeons, eager to have a tasty, fresh meal served to them, with the thoroughfare parkway in the background. 

The USC Dumpster Pigeons are sort of "young" acting, I'd say. I'm not sure what had happened to them, to see them migrate out here; perhaps it was lack of care, or mistreatment, in which case, perhaps some adults were lost, from the flock.

I had some aspirations to landscape the nearby thoroughfare parkway, since it's currently just weedy grass and hay, with some drought-tolerant freeway-adjacent plants. I'm currently (late May, 2024), sprouting some seedlings, ostensibly to carry out that task, for this growing season (it's a really humbling thing to consider, but there's more rewards in it, if the project is seen through, in this way, and the whole block of parkway could be adopted, and seem regular, as landscaped parkway, at some point, I figure).

The major highlights and takeaways of this flock are that they're so set on taking the first bites of food, over each other, that they're nearly willing to be picked up, and held, by the caretaker / feeder, which is relatively rare. I'd suppose that, since this flock is somewhat remote from other flocks, there's less of the large-scale socialization establishments of fear and timidity that is seen in the DTLA-proper flocks. 

Some notes on this flock: the parking lot is situated east of Figueroa, on Adams, and west of the 23rd Street / Orthopedic Institute for Children Metro Expo E Line Train Station, although the birds are also sometimes found at the 23rd Street at Figueroa gravel peninsula and bus stop / 110 Freeway overpass. 

LA Metro subterranean blasting causes plurisubharmonic seismic vibrations, shaking South LA and West Hollywood.

 Being that I stay up for a long time; days, even (still, at this point in life), I have a keen sense of when things seem to go awry, of slight motions and activities of people around me. 

Today was a particularly strange day, nearly gone by, at this hour - of the “latest” waking period, as I call it, colloquially, in my own estimations. There were significant thunderstorms and rainy activity 😗 umm… yesterday, that is… since I’d not slept last night, as it turns out. <_<…? In any case, there were significant thunderstorms yesterday, and leading up to it, I felt that some sort of barometric pressure was pushing through the locality around me, even affecting me inside of my bedroom. Sometimes I wonder if it’s my ionic mineral supplementation intake, being subsumed by the planes flying overhead, in the jet stream line-of-sight, leading up to LAX Airport’s landing runway. During the day, there’s typically even shadows cast, commonly, over my head, or “in the way” of the sunlight, with the shadows of the planes flickering the light, shining through my window, or sometimes I go out for a cigarette, and I get flashed by the plane’s shadow. It’s enough to cook up some viable paranoia, right? 

So, the barometric pressure is one thing, the storms are another, and the reputation of the area, this being South Los Angeles, makes for a suggestible fable to be run by me, such as that “terrorists” are flexing their might, in opposition to the authorities, and they’re going around, blowing up the water mains, underground. On top of that, the story had gotten so detailed, such as to suggest that much of South Los Angeles was going to be host to a massive sinkhole, like the ones that we hear or read about, sometimes, happening in South America. 

But this evening, as I went out to West Hollywood to do some gig work, I felt a distinct blast; I heard it, as well, and some shockwaves followed the blast, so I reasoned that the blasting must be for the sake of Metro’s subterranean station and terminal outlets, for the private spaces and expanse required to keep the train lines running smoothly, which they do. I must say that hold-ups and delays of the trains are typically trivial in the Los Angeles Metro Train system, and they only last a few minutes, at most. There are two lines being developed, one of them the Crenshaw Line, which would reasonably assume that my area, running parallel to Crenshaw Blvd., would see some shaking, over in my area, of this sort. The other line being developed and worked on, at this point in time, is the expansion of the Purple Line, in to the Westside localities of Beverly Hills and Century City, going up Wilshire. 

So that was it, as far as terrorist plot explosions theories, broken water mains, and sinkholes becoming established. It’s all part of the workweek, in other words. 

The sun sets over rush hour traffic, somewhere in Los Angeles.

AakHh! The forex markets close on the weekends! Now what?

 I slipped in to the concurrency of such a notion, after having spent a day in Maguire Gardens at the Los Angeles Public Library Central Branch, which is a hoisty auger-wracked semi-seismic bwoffle of a hang out spot, for the layperson. Just next to the sidewalk, there is a construction site, of which there are, I believe, two other posts of major subterranean engineering going on - one by the L.A. Times Building, and another by the Little Tokyo Station, all set in place to embody what will be the Metro Regional Connection Project (… something along those lines, of a name). I set my obsessive madness of hawk-watching over my tenuous trades, as 2 p.m.(-ish) hit the mark of the day, which, as a ground-dweller, amongst the plazas of | and [the] high rise office and financial center buildings of Flower Street, there is a sundial-esque feel to the place, as the sun sits off, on the southern-more part of the sky, during this season, and the shadows cast by the buildings, along with the Santa Ana winds of the week, here, had (on my previous outing, and fixture, thereby, that I became, in to the afternoon); made up my mind that I could get about and on with my day, as a pedestrian - standard that the role would aught be, for myself, as a bird’s-flock feeder, around the civic center, of a couple or a few spots, of where the birds gather, I would normally attend to, and sometimes, I would pick up recyclables, and search for food, as well, as part of my daily outings. 

The day trading thing was supposed to be an adjunct and ancillary development of intellectual and interest-based | (novelty) pursuit, since I’m largely assuaged and comforted by simple and nominal trifles, such as finding recyclables, food, drinks, and cigarettes, partially-smoked, as I traverse the paths and locales that I frequent, on my given day outings, of the days in which I make it out. One thing that’s been notable, about spending time in Maguire Gardens, is that the other guys who are regulars there, I’ve notice observed, is that they’d also been feeding the birds, which is a great relief, for me. I don’t have to worry so much about trekking out, quite so often, collecting recyclables, with my medication regimen, and the COVID-19 slight era, in life: somewhat crippling the recyclables collector’s economy of resources and materials to collect. Thankfully, unemployment insurance and Pandemic Unemployment Award money, from the CARES Act, and from other legislative acts and Executive Orders that have been quite timely and compassionate upon the small-guy earner, such that the welfare demographic, gig-jobbers, self-employed, and micro-small business startups, such as my Blogger enterprises and website domain establishments - we’d be unknown, to each other, largely, of my part, of knowing them, as individuals; (I typically deal with the Personality Disorder subtypes, most commonly, of this larger context of [-since] October 2016 until now; with me as a stalking victim, of the remote sensing and surveillance apparatus, whereas my humor and comfort level, about life, had become casually psychopathically a tristé, as it were, much more so, on my Twitter feed, where I cover all things that come in to the foray, in life, and banal that it might be, it made “coverage” thresholds of consideration, in the (-un)slight publication format that is Twitter. I say unslight, because much of my cookies, data science persona, and user feedback (to developers) metrics, intents, and returns, on concurrency-based matters, and institutional responsibility matters, and ethics, that it were, are all accounted for, on my latest version offering of my online Public Relations module, this being Twitter, with my account handle being my only outlet. It’s a scary notion, to the uninitiated, yet I’d become comfortable and adept at making sordid confessions, and the Deus ex Machina Artificial Intelligence adjunct computes-stimulations and suggestive themes and nomenclature derivatives, of situational and contextual awareness imbued me, many a time, with casually deranged and eloquently charismatic one-liners and supporting documentation and testimony, for pleading my case with “whoever” is out there, supervising and overseeing the matters that had transpired, from day-to-day - which had been going on, of an extent of continuity, since October 2016, as I’d mentioned. 

In this day and age, of high technology, as standard, we outdo, by doubling, in speed, and performance; capacity, etc., every two years. Things along those lines, in terms of cutting edge technology offerings of the latest to come off of the production lines, in big tech offerings. For me to be stuck within a [same] framework of being, of some farcical notion of “remote-sensing” dramatics and “pwn’ing” {me}, of just “some” notion - I’d begun to start saying things like, “well, how much is anyone really actually themselves, with this sort of thing going on, in their minds?” The abandonment and use case factors scenario would come to mind, as the topic of dispute - the obsolescence factor, in matters at hand, in rating and scaling importance, in contexts in life, to come, and resume, from then, until now. For whatever that means, for others, as well as myself; yet here: I, and my family, largely, had seemed to become commonly abused, tormented, and slighted people, under the guise of that we weren’t “of on homie” enough, for these various, networked, or fancifully-designed cells of people, who had casual, acquaintanceship, needs-based, industriousness and productivity centered, - these sorts of ties, that could extend into my own understanding, yet the deeper tiers of companionship seemed to be embedded within these oppositional and “mysterious” [ooo… wooo…👐🏻] sorts of cells of individuals (who had become all but use “too trite,” to be blunt; yet I digress. 

That was the backdrop to my life. I’m constantly seeking to embark upon a fresh slate, with accruements of what’s been salvaged, out of an identity that could be wrought, out of what I’d legitimately embodied and intended, of my young and early-mid (slight) adult life, whereas much of this sort of subversion in intelligence, and autonomy, of the socialist (or “whatever,” I don’t really know anything, off-hand) apparatus and activist movement, in life, had been going on since before I’d become superficially aware of these matters, that they are - as Personality Disorder subtypes, which I’d mentioned, previously, which, in turn, have been diligently wrought out, in analysis, and in the literature, such that meaningful and contrite counter-measures could aught be enacted, and embodied, of my own self, and fortitude, with my casual compatriots being the witting - or less - sufferers, of similar rebuke, standard psychology selves and individuals, as reinforcers, thereof. These ones were different, in my understanding of them. These ones had a thirst for economy, in the spoken word, whereas I’d simply been adept, in musical intelligence, of classical learning, early on, in my youth (age 5 is when I started taking piano lessons). 

Then, there’s the world of currency trading, which, as an informal sorts institution, that I fashion of my ipigeon.institute brand and heraldry, (and perhaps I’m misgivings, on those notions, but I learn as I go, and typically only if I look things up (background check) the circumstance and topic at hand, if it’s a philosophical debate, or a meeting of differences, of the mind, that it were, at hand (sometimes I just accept the formative and fitting {enough} intelligence that suits my mind, and to suit, or to boot, at that. I’m fortunate, in that sense; to have a serendipitous outlay prospectus upon life, of that I’d come to have words to say; and let them not be that slight things would come to pass, upon the foray of things that I’d be known, of - as myself, or for myself. On Twitter, it’s a different trawl. It’s a non-edited sort-form, just like much of my writings, over the past several years - which I believe is suitable: the “thing” that had existed, undoubtedly exists. In the currency exchange markets, getting back to the point of things, of this article, what happened is invariably what happened, given the charts, and timelines of the fluctuating values of these currency pairs. Try as we might, as intelligence-validation seeking and needful people, that we might be, in the novelty-seeking subtype, we would like to, much more so, see our aspirations and intentions fulfilled; with currency exchanges, pairs, and valuations, there’s much novelty abound, in all instances of opportunity; at least, on a day like today, on Coinbase.

Trailing back, a bit, in the calendar, like we might, in currency trading, to get some further background perspective upon the present moment, and (perhaps) near future, in forecasting duties that we assign, of ourselves, if we take the technical analysis approach, to entering in to a position, in valuation. 

I let the theme of the topic slip, out of the bag, as it were, by mentioning Coinbase. If you’d been following along, and keeping in, with my forex blog articles that I’d been publishing, and you’d come to the same such realization that I had, yesterday afternoon, in Maguire Gardens, that the markets close on the weekend, then you’d similarly be left in need of some sort of sociable effort, or gesture, as it might be, of your own will and becoming, of yourself, of something - something less locked in to the staring at the screen, and the charts, for the money to roll in, even better than it’d not, or it’s not, or that it might be doing, at some point, hopefully soon, in the future. 

You can do the same sorts of things on Coinbase, to start with, in the weekend, off-hours. As well, there are various organizational and institutional underpinnings that have gone through the checkered flags, and made it on to the common cryptocurrency exchange markets that are Coinbase, and Coinbase Pro. (That’s what I’d gotten to, so far, aside from CryptoTab browser ({Pro} - which is required, for iOS Crypto [BitCoin] mining - I think; it’s $3.99, currently; I’m not quite sure that, or if, it definitely does do mining, on iOS | iPadOS). On the Google Pixel 4a 5G, it tells me that the hashes per second rate goes at about 1500/s, more or less, and you can outfit the mining to run in 2 hour increments - a sustainability concept; as hot devices perform less well, and they become ruined, over time. Affections for attentions-paid to the devices. That’s somewhat the rule of hand. If you’re not there to tend, ruefully, to the machine, with your affections, in CryptoTab Browser, then what is the worth of your device simply sitting there? - trying to mine BitCoin? 

At this rate, and, as it seems, as a standard, somewhat, that CryptoTab Browser assigns to high-end mobile devices, such as the Google Pixel 4a 5G, of 1500 hashes completed, per second, the gains are nominal, on standard settings; yet there is an option for cloud mining multiples of hash completions, given user engagement at the device endpoint, in assigning the device to crypto-mining, for two hours at a time, in CryptoTab Browser, as it were - for a cost - I won’t say that certain multiples aren’t worth the money, if the user is a hard core dedicated one, to and for the purpose. On the standard 1x mining ratio, given the current valuation of Bitcoin, I’ve been pulling in $0.01 per 2 hours, and my device gets hot, while it’s assigned to mining. 

Starting from an Android device, that’s appreciable enough, given that I have an off-hours trading platform, in cryptocurrency, which can be stimulating, and rewarding enough, with even as much as a $2 buy-in, to the establishment (users can purchase incremental amounts of cryptocurrency, of a few or several dozen sorts of cryptocurrency offering, and Coinbase also offers some rewarded user engagement opportunities, in the user interface, for newcomers to the platform. There’s an astute trading mechanism endowed to the platform. Price-correlated cryptocurrencies are noted in the bottom on any price detail page, of the Coinbase app.

Like any sort of validated commodity; in Coinbase, as with stocks and forex trading, for example, the timing view pane of the currency being examined offers different expanses of time, for the user to observe.

As I’d said; start simple and slight, in cryptocurrency trading. The Coinbase platform is one based upon garnering intelligence and knowledge base awareness of the utility and underlying functions of what these cryptocurrency items portend, within the ecology and scopes therein, simulating other sorts of fiat currencies that ostend the various global and international currency products of any given nation, or the public offering of a company, as it were, in stock trading and investments. 

All this being said, it seems that the lead-up to Valentine’s Day supposed quite little of our men, of this nation, whereas BitCoin valuation peaked and spiked, at $47,000, and $55,000, within recent weeks. Even so, we, as $2.00 “starting off” investors, can, in fact, still invest in BitCoin, incrementally, as it were, just to dip our feet in the markets. It’s a bit more of a forgiving grounds for tinkering about, as a $2.00 investor, which I hadn’t quite considered, in starting out in forex trading, with a $100 buy-in basis, yet it’s completely viable, as one explores and learns the world of cryptocurrencies, for one’s own self, within the user experience that Coinbase offers. Coinbase Pro offers extended features and cryptocurrency | fiat currency pairs trading; I haven’t gotten in to that app, and it’s features, just yet, for the morning. Perhaps some other day.