iPigeon.institute blog: Places

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Showing posts with label Places. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Places. Show all posts

Thursday, June 29

The iPigeon cool public mobile charging spots of greater and Metro Los Angeles, California, USA.

From jay.ammon@iPigeon.institute's Google My Maps custom map compilations:

Web link: cool iPigeon free public charging spots of Metro and greater Los Angeles




Wouldn’t it be cool, if it was like Christmastime all year-round, in terms of being capable of plugging in, while venturing around Los Angeles, CA? In some spots, that is the case. Here in this blog, I’m seeking to cover these public and outdoor electricity plug-in offerings, as I set out in reclaiming my life by enjoying more of life on my mobile devices, free from the constraints and hard times that I encounter as a housed person. 

There’s room for a few more people to set out and enjoy these types of endowments for the public; it’s a great way to clear the mind, establish a more objective basis in life, and to enjoy and appreciate what greater Los Angeles has to offer its residents.

———————————

Check out the Google Web App implementation of what was | is the legacy Play Store App known as My Maps, which is also similarly covered in Google Local Guides local lists, yet I'm not quite sure that the latest Google Maps platform is the way in which this information might reach the requisite user base. It's a bit of a token wish-list of undefinable coding cloud compute parameters, of "stuff that" ... well, hopefully, over time, there'll be a well-enough word-of-mouth or a cloud compute user token trigger established; something along those lines. I am the guy working at it, with well-enough intentions. I must say that I don't personally know the person who would offer better, with no strings attached, for the sake of the particularly slighted acute personal crisis breakout demographic, of perhaps having been discriminated against, bullied, or inappropriately targeted, or unwell amongst crowds, or "something neurotic," I suppose. 

The web app implementation interface covers only two locations off of the Gold Line, yet I'll be covering leads at seasonal homeless shelters, acquiring information, and re-establishing the autonomy of the well-connected subsidized phone subscriber persona | identity - the one who had not traded the phone outright for money for personal [essential] or questionable needs, although I have been that desperate myself, at times, I must say. That's a whole other non-issue to have become needful in being established, perhaps, if I'm to take in inventory about everything that passes through my I/O periphery, of as much of the day as I could make of it, whereas sometimes I just don't understand that people are doing this n' that... I had no idea... Pretty cool, ... cool stuff. 

Alright. That's the latest; I'll keep this as one of the centric hub links for establishing various persona marketing potential mates or marketable lifestyles of tech of the enterprising homelessness "thing," of the overarching slake of how life happens to be, not only for myself, but largely because I don't quite understand some things that are told to me, despite appearances of accommodation, otherwise, which would typically leverage over in to the "notably strange" sorts of happenstance resonance tech-advanced-lifestyle blogging and research aspirations, device-mobile, people stealing my devices, sort of thing, and it's pretty confusing, or it's a Buddha's attainment of some 40% American demographic of affinity, a couple | several years ago, according to Pew Research Foundation, of which I'll pull up the link, just momentarily. 

Okay. I had discovered the publication article, in question, on Facebook, memorably, and the date, at that time, was perhaps no later than 2013. This article, which was preceded by much well-received facets of popular culture burgeoned by a rapid expanse of the interest in personal and home luxury, as well as in essential oils and organics boom culture, of that Whole Foods had been touted as the largest grocer in America, with it's affinity and branding model basis in finery and artisan food, health, beauty, nutrition, and sustainability, not to mention animal rights and wellness facets of their corporate model. 

Yoga pants - the ass-blogging photoblog site offshoots of People of Wal-mart « pre-ish » meme-official entity rights establishment, of that "we" or many of us, of a suitably unprofessional non-development culture had slade'd through youthful adulthood now, and then now was going on, like, all the time. At times, believably, we had had chosen those sorts of media outlets, they were "poppin' pussy" popular, and then, perhaps, sick fascination with the grotesque led to real-trauma medical photography-type stuff, and now | then, people simply block out negative experiences, and prefer that better things would befall them, unsuitably professionally so, of an irony, somewhat suggestive of a Freudian child-life "style" « something, » perhaps. Some people would know, and I've gotten some off-basis "Jewish flack" connotations lobbed at me, quite notably so, of an abnormal psychology establishment, of some other establishment which had got turned to confessionals, etc. "stuff." Which I do, personally, just because it's compellingly (well, okay), I have to admit, I was raised quite mostly appropriately. 

The stories of others have yet to establish a contextual text-literacy basis of caring enough to twiddle fingers in to words, such as garbage blog basis that commonly comes to pass, yet somewhat as well, somewhat not quite - if it just didn't, and such n' such, Jewish thing? I didn't really have any idea about it, still somewhat unclear, on my end. Maybe it's not even me, not even knowing about it, but I definitely didn't know about, personally. That's how secretive some of these abnormal psychologies developed, in such commonly textbook suitable nurturing environments. 

I wouldbt, though, and I just didn't. Stuff. Garbage, though, I can get by on garbage, well enough. This isn't really that type of blog, though, but it is open public forum for perusal, as a minimum. I do maintain that I establish as linearly cohesive and development models of breakouts in intelligence formatting, and it tends to nothing, really, ... but non-content stuff sometimes slips the fweef, of supposing I'd just fweef and hang out with people like that. 

"Who wouldn't?" 

On one hand. 

Although - I do get tested for memory role-modeling, and for bash shell-scripting Unix commands, for unpacking and deployment of completely suitable admin resources and libs, if necessary, simply... sometimes just imaginably so. But for the factuality of that it doesn't get done on my end, it also tends to somehow become a problem of other other people, of irrelevant issues, according to the strengths I could be using. All garbage, to speak of. But garbage, I run on, and I find it pretty suitable, in fact. Most typically. 

I dunno, ... what other people do. I like good-looking people, though. Other people, this n' that, yip-yappin', and through speaking on these subjects, I somewhat refrain from caring well-enough for myself. I end up a bum. People assume it's a bum, off hand. It's doing some persona marketing thing of a critter sweater, most currently-status-bum. Searchable bum? Bum-searchable, latest thing, though. I could ... check on the checkin' status of "just maybe" stuff, but if it wasn't suitable for even garbage bum blogging regalia dissemination, it most commonly got a fix up of some attention to it, ... Something like that. Stuff just wasn't getting done, quite properly well enough, on my end, as what the issue ended up being.

-------

Alright. A guy came up and started talking to me. He's pretty normal. He gave me a Men's Fitness magazine. Pretty cool stuff. I have to admit, though, that the oppositional | avoidant characteristics of glossing over some of the identities behind what ended up being garbage blogging, back there, a bit, significantly threw me off, about something that was a topic to blog about. 

Okay. It was the same blog, somehow. The My Maps blog. 

Update to the "Normal Guy" thing.

Update: June 28th, 2022: Flintridge | Foothill Gelson’s Market

Thursday, July 30

Product Review: the Suorin Vagon Nicotine Inhaler (Vape | Vaporiser). [DTLA Smoke Shop - $40 | 223 1/2 W 6th St, Los Angeles, CA]

Your review

 Photo of Jay Ammon
This smoke shop is pretty cool. I came in looking for a refillable cartridge piece for a push-button THC oil vaporizer that I found in the trash, and the clerk directed me, instead, to a device such as the "Suorin." Having been a Suorin device purchaser and user, in the past, and given that it was within my budget, I took him up on his offer, and purchased the device for $40, and some 55mg/mL nicotine juice for $18.99. Not a bad deal, all-in-all. The nicotine juice is very strong.
 

Sunday, July 12

July 11th in Los Angeles, CA - Civil Unrest on the Streets Leads to Near Rioting Effects.

Now, granted - I don't particularly know or believe [completely] what truthfully transpires in a location outside of my sensory perception; stark and vigilant that I may be, at times. 

I trust the news organizations and subsequent articles that get fed to me, through articles and media outlets, 

at least as much as they fulfill my inherent fearful primordial mind.

That being said, I couldn't deny the truths: of the significance of the dailies of an actual "about town" trot through the locales, as various as I might, for as fortuitous as my strength and aptitude compels me to: typically, for the duty of feeding the birds, gathering their food supplies from the grocery store, collecting recyclables, and the breadth of how weary and road-worn I've become, leading up to the day that I face. I try to take it one day at a time; for all that it construes and that might be inferred from that saying. I've been trying to form my scheduling around the Grand Central and API 23 Intel crosswalk accessibility standards, be it that I am, commonly, colloquially construed of a multi-threaded and novel suite of minds, about me, as I manage my self as my vehicle - keeping the risk liability factors of scrumming up a misfortunate encounter that would lead to my arrest, for a warrant, for example. Trying to keep up the look of the upright recycling bum; as a minimum.

I couldn't deny that police officers and law enforcement have it rough in Los Angeles, in general rhetorical imaginations of what they face, in opposition; and so much of it mobilized and willingly militant, of the various terrorist cells that they are, in and of: essentially, that they fare brutality and innocent casualties as their modus d'operandi, however generally lacking in intellectual merit and statutory form of reasoning, that it stands to be, given a talking to, nowadays (even still), and for what they sacrifice in public relations for taking such short-sighted approach to their public relations vehicles.

Now, on that note, I sometimes find myself talked in to a vigilant cautious modality of transporting my self, and my carriage, of which, in my most-latest refactoring of consideration (of what I might be, and appear as such, to the public's eye, for scrutiny - this is DTLA and greater Los Angeles, California; that being said. There are sensitive tastes and finicky appetites at stake, on the much-as-for-the-(largely)-unsupposed side of the schtick, for many of us, young ones - particularly as that we had grown up in imperfect settings, and had been subjected to nurturing environmental sleights and abuses, rendering many a sort, out there, predisposed to a mutiny, so to speak, on this ship that is the vehicle of our lives - rhetorically speaking: we live in America. We've known it, from our upbringing, or from hearsay, or propaganda - be it as depravity's siren call, that it might, in becoming - on deeper considerations - some people do take advantage, of a slight and subjective bias foundation, ignoring the bigger picture, of consequences - sometimes: I'd say that sometimes, people simply choose to injure the lesser formidable primitivistic victims, of an opportunistic | misfortunate circumspect in dynamic relation to each other.


Dictionary
cir·cum·spect
/ˈsərkəmˌspekt/
adjective
  1. wary and unwilling to take risks.
    "the officials were very circumspect in their statements"
    Similar:
    cautious
    wary
    careful
    chary
    guarded
    on one's guard
That being said, it was the word that had transpired, of the moment that it was. That each one, as the dictaphone transcription had turned out, takes the circumspect outcome, put under duress, and the news media reports on it. 

That's about the degree of viable credibility that could be construed, out of organics in form and foundation, given a spread of days, given months, that the COVID-19 situations and underpinnings have been going on, largely underneath the watchful eye of « someone », I'll acknowledge at minimum that much: I do have to live up to a reputable aspiration seen through to fulfilling [at minimum] admirable deeds and sober words and affect that transpire, of me; improprieties that they might be, of various constraints, given ethics: I do try for at least API 23 accessibility and crosswalk Grand Central in time-threading. Sometimes, the timing is done for me. 

This past outing, however, I jaunted my carriage through and up out of Santa Monica, by night. The drops in barometer seemed like trivial concerns, compared to conceit, that I might typically have of myself (I get abused, commonly, in my internalized mind. Autonomy; none, that I expect, of my mind and my framework, most typical, that it turns out, in being). Novelty-ridden bum, as the latest contention of what might and had been construed of me, being the topic consideration, of some, that it had come to pass, to have been laid down, upon me, as the significant delimiting factor in judgment that was being tossed about, in some remote-[unprofessional]-working environment: much of to woes, given tides of the days, as they'd come, recently. This COVID-19 stuff has been going on for months, now. Out in DTLA, things are at a serious pitch, at a whim. 

Today, 

(as it turns out)

Although, yesterday, in truthful actuality 

I had just stayed up all night. Now it's the morning. I'm blogging the report, for the insider prospectus replete and formidable news drop sequester - the final word, on the street, somewhat, as far as the scrum of last night.
That being said, the night went on late, and people had been particularly « nearly » at a rioting whimsical, of my pigeons-carnival [other] as dynamics, in the situation. I tried to, and - 

on some level, okay.

I did do the actually, of an actual day and night in passing.

Typically, I'd have fared worse. But I did take my medication, and I did fall asleep. 


Wednesday, October 24

A Google My Maps walk down through the Arts District after spending the day at the homeless charging spot by Grand Park on Spring Street.

https://www.google.com/maps/d/edit?mid=1xSrMIK0Kc7ARI9O8fRw2FgPFZRlWPPPZ&usp=sharing

Oops, apparently I was being stalked [or something...] as I heard them stalking me, as the young gay admittedly guy from the park from a while ago, undoubtedly, was the cry leader for rent control yes, on proposition 10,out in front of Target, and then a bunch of people came up here uncharacteristically, and Colleen or whatever her name is started making bland confessions of "oh, yeah fuckkk... Yeah, I told them to come out and fuck with you up there, and show up, etc., not much," kind of thing.

Aside from that, I found a bit of food along the way.










I ended up finding some food and a decent thin cigar out by the Starbucks off of Olympic at Hill or Olive



Now I'm getting to sleep for a bit out at Pigeon Island.

I'm trying to keep the LA Superior Court app cached, as well as a pipe organ app (Orgue).

Latest post.

The pigeons eat cheesecake, at the DTLA Central Library (photo blog).

 I captured some photos of the pigeons getting messy, while enjoying some cheesecake, yesterday, at the library. 

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