A 12 Steps 9th Step Reflection - What am I supposed to do when people simply can’t be honest with themselves?

 Being a situational minority, [living in South Los Angeles] myself - “visually” (although only “somewhat;” I do sometimes get myself casually mistaken for being Hispanic), I get a lot of flack. 

It’s the kind of thing that would have potentially framed our collective and generalized minds, for having been part of the dragnet downward spiral that so many of us face, for having this faulty, anti-social, mistaken, misfortunate, misgiven, mistreated, maladapted, disregarded, or sometimes, we were simply just the one picked out to be bullied upon, for a long stretch of life. Many of us, in the smallest demographics, here - the 1-4%ers; the silent intelligent minds, the secretive genius, the condescending outperformer, or some sort of spiritual misfit, perhaps. 

As the fungus, for the sake of wood rot - in healing the stuff of nature that consumes us, as the tree of life, perhaps, that we, as intelligent humans are, we tend to a greater sustainability, for having made the sacrifice that signifies and represents our material loss in life - for nature to persist.

I was some sort of combination of these things, to varying degrees. My teachers might commonly have characterized me as an “A” grade mind, but a “B” grade achiever. It would be quite ostensible, as such. I was hit, as a child, and treated cruelly, at times, by my parent authority nurturing environment. Although I was young, I knew, intelligently well enough, that I was being mistreated, and that there was an unreasonable expectation of that I ought have not violated whatever boundary it was that I had pushed too far on, in acting out, or whatever the case might have been. That was back when I was around age 6, or so, when I started to come to understand that I was being held hostage, of sorts, and that life is a cruel endeavor, at times. My happiness and enjoyment was ephemeral, and sadness came as a much more common and ostensible expectation of myself

Now, at age 39, I do broadly superficial gestures towards a mindset of reserved superiority, should that card need to be pulled, in order to one-up myself, in a situation, whereas I’m narcissistic, at times, and I feel that simply accommodating others I come across, superficially and casual that it may be, I do have a somewhat limited basis and “license,” as it were - to engage with, and exchange acquaintanceship with, as far as how I might ever (or, actually) expect to get to know a great many more individuals in the localities in which I frequent. On some level, the diversity of Los Angeles, and surrounding areas, is a beautiful thing - we get a small taste of it, here and there, as children - some of us had interaction-based socialization profiles, some of us had cultural endowments, of our learning and travel experience, in our youthful developing years, and others - well, to be honest, I somewhat simply don’t quite know. There’s not much in terms of disclosure, when it came to so many people. It was bwammo; butt shittle, for sure, and bwopp dick? Plik plok. 

That’s essentially how I do some people. What else am I supposed to do? They seem to realize it, and they truly just go for it, in this slight game of alluding to a secretive shame of non-disclosure of what’s humble and slight about us; each unto ourselves, but as for myself, I feel as though I’m simply capable, in being an honest person, whereas I seem to attract a lot of pent up frustration and aggression towards me, as well as to my personal belongings, possessions, art work - even my right of way and freedom of volition, out in public. Ought I mix it up, a bit more, and get out of town, for that it’s slight localities that I frequent? I’m trying to do something with these pigeons and sparrows, though. I feel that that’s the crux of what separates and distinguishes me from these “others,” casually “majority” that they might be, for as ephemeral and unsustained that it might be, when it comes down to constancy, faith in, and loyalty to a purpose - it’s sometimes that it is quite obvious that people had been talking about me, in some group or networked small and trivial collective or establishment of people - on the other hand, I have the largest demographic of spiritually faithful compatriots that I might believe exists, for being a Christian man; perhaps here and there I entertain discovering various nuances of the faith, and demonizations, but these are simple numbers and statistics that we had all grown up with. 

Somewhere along the way, young people had decided that popular beliefs and establishments were disdainful, and averse to the common man’s wellbeing, whereas true wellness was largely characterized as a shameful “hurt” area; it hurt to have affections for others, to achieve, in the face of others who had not serendipitously found good fortune, well enough for everyone’s attention spans (how commonly does serendipity happen?). People who had achieved some good or gainful new establishment, as for their own take - were seen as the rightfully scapegoated ones. That’s how I feel, in any case. It happens to women, of a certain sort, all the time, and who likes to be incorrect, or improper? It’s a humbling thing, for many - discovering the consequence of “God’s” purpose and judgment in our lives, yet I hear confessionals all the time, and I have my own notions as to how and why these sorts of interrogative processes come to be characterized and fixed in to the mind of an unwell and unstable psychological archetype - ephemeral that it may be, it does happen quite commonly, for the great many amongst the few of us, that there are, in some instances. 

The truth is most commonly a great and celebrated thing; it’s a thing of joy, good humor, and elation - good people can’t imagine something so awful and horrid, such that it ought not have been done. At what point does the unrelenting bold one simply cease to persist in asserting dominance over differences between themselves, and a great many others? People have access to richly developed minds and intelligence forms of much of history and establishment that has been recorded in some form, whether it be visual, artistic, literary, or of the other ways and means in which we communicate and confer symbolism and meanings unto others. 

A practical, real-world corollary to my previous post, on the MKULTRA program. (Update)

In this cutting edge and (as-of-yet) still largely ill-understood context of mind control

and of relevant government and intelligence agency programs and implementations of such, thereof, my previous post seemed to have foreshadowed some requisition and atonement, for that the context of mind control, and its subjects, being myself, and some of those amongst me, having become a needed issue to have been attended to; to my appreciation, what had been a developing and complicated issue, in the context of the subject (my [group home] neighbor): Omar Andrade having, of recent weeks, become a commonplace and recurrent sleepless madman, he thence had, just yesterday, become subject to his more primitivistic, subconscious, and limbic-minded self, in presenting himself as an individual who had lost control of his inhibitions and rational awareness in life, as a relentlessly outspoken and violently hostile and aggressively-willing mind control aberration. 

It was the first thing in the morning; as for myself, not the most astute time in life to wake up and start the day; it was perhaps 9 a.m., or so. I had, in my youth, more commonly had been accustomed to waking up earlier to start my day; yet I would offer that I’m constantly subject to victimizations, of a mental health disparagement, and, as such, I simply have shortcomings about my life, to attest to, and for that matter, I, in turn, am given license and disclosure as to who displays a lack of social and emotional intelligence, in my proximity, in life, for claims (which seem common) of that such shortcomings and presentations of myself “don’t matter,” or come to be disregarded, being that these are complex issues, obviously, to discuss and intelligibly manage. It’s simply what I had been accustomed to encountering, in making my case known to what establishment and personnel are afforded to me, being that I am a mental health services and benefits recipient, in terms of government programs that were offered to me; as such, and rather, though, as these benefits, such as housing and case management, are received - at this point in time, not all of the mental health service establishments - such as housing, in particular, have sufficiently professionally-licensed and appropriate personnel providing the fulfillments of the mental health program: here, in Los Angeles County, under the LACDMH (Department of Mental Health) program known as Full Service Partnership, in which housing, case management, medication, and perhaps some therapy and psychological (or, at least, psychiatric) behavioral services are provided for individuals. In its fulfillment, as for myself, I do receive these basic services, although mental health abuses are still murky territory, in the criminal justice system, as for who, or how, or even that: mental health abuses are properly addressed - that Omar Andrade, for one, had been a developing and ongoing mind-control aberration, most ostensibly, was an issue that was seen to have been “negligible” in needs-to-be addressed [sorts of] priorities, as far as people I could, and did, reach out to, as far as seeking support in attending to this (acute) crisis, that it had come to - yesterday morning (Wednesday, January 2022), that it was.

Omar Andrade had, for weeks leading up to this acute psychiatric emergency, in which he displayed Axis-1 symptoms of psychotic disorder, consequent to substance use disorder; also having displayed a lack of interest in eating, at proper meal times (eating disorder), and of that his behavior was commonly, and increasingly unstable and hostile towards others, sometimes of an unseen nature, of which I would discern to be the mind-control program’s evidenced presence in his mind, whereas he was a difficult individual to reach, due to an Axis-II sort of behavioral disorder portrayal of himself, in (as far as my own attempts to reach him); his incapability in, or refusal to: show a common courtesy to his housemates, and a lack of empathy and intelligence about displaying any sort of rational regard to a person’s sense of dignity and perhaps superiority over himself, that may be the case, in various instances, whereas he would portray a somewhat playful courtesy to someone in an already established position of authority, such as the house manager; whereas, in this acute crisis incident, of yesterday morning, he was physically aggressive and overtly violent to “simply anyone,” including the group home’s manager - it seemed to, upon deeper psychological analysis, of what was visually ostensible, and, of a critical analysis sort of mind about discerning what the nature of the problem could be - it would be surmised, and asserted, I’d suppose of myself, of that he had simply stayed awake, for too many days and nights, on end, of an ongoing, unsustainable, irrational, and, as had developed, increasingly paranoid and hostile nature towards others - in this instance, of a completely baseless premise, in exerting his hostility towards all people he faced, in the home; this being at around 9 a.m. in the morning, and whereas he was blocking access to and from people’s rooms and accommodations of the household, such as the bathroom, with his violently hostile presentation of himself being the overtly irrational and subconsciously troubled mind, having become a criminal or psychiatric issue, for the police to have attended to. 

There was a great degree of administrative caution in approaching Omar, given that he was barricaded in the restroom when the police showed up, and initially, the house manager disregarded and downplayed my appeals to her, for assistance, the case being as that it was early (somewhat) in the morning, and that commonplace disparagements and a rueful disregard of etiquette and propriety is the characteristic and peculiar, as well as particular mode of conduct about herself (the house manager), whereas I “know better,” and expect better, but this occurrence being of somewhat irrelevant nature, given that the issue was resolved to my appreciation, and that she (the house manager) was generally irrelevant to the acute crisis occurrence that had developed, in the subject’s mind, of some sort of responsibility and irrationality that was the subject’s own willful and willing volition and capability to had established, in his own mind. Comparatively, I’m commonly misled, offered suggestions, and lobbed what would amount to a paranoid and suspicious mind, of others in my common proximity, and these experiences do, in truth, come at a challenging cost of a need to expend a great deal of critical and analytical thought, as well as that a disciplined and thorough self-examination of circumstances and accountability are required of a subject such as myself, as common as Omar Andrade could be, as far as substance use is concerned, whereas the perpetrator commonly and repeatedly displayed a lesser accountability and cares towards composure and restraint, given our needs fulfillment common space and placement in life, given that we were both occupants of the same living space. What had taken place in his mind, such that he found fault in others, to the extent that he decided, of at least his wakeful and present self, that morning, there in the hallway? I have some intimations, and summations, of what had been heard of him, leading up to this occurrence, of that he was culturally overtly proud, and needful, it would seem, of presenting himself as an outspoken individual, whereas, in other instances, he was unstable in his overall persona and present self, being “sometimes” superficially courteous, and, at other times, it would have seemed as though he had courted a happenstance, arbitrary, and chaotic - inconsiderate and semiotically cruel and condescending self, perhaps of a symbolic nature, of an evidently “simply present” will and volition of that he would decide to treat me, and, on this occasion, practically anyone present, with hostility, and so - he got arrested.

Another Downtown LA (Though Slight) Occupation and Riot - October 2021 DTLA Folklore.

 Who could deny it, for either living here or ending up here, any time over the past several weeks or so?

The evidence is present for the daytime locals and locality regulars, (such as myself) to come to understand. As pictured here, at the [… insert apartment complex name], property damage is being threatened and waged, lately, by roving waves of seemingly random, yet quite common casually psychotic individuals. It’s a burgeoning mental health crisis, out here. Much of the dissent and “acting out” is based upon some demographic crisis, of which the truth of the matter could ostensibly be difficult, even for professionals, social workers, and mental health outreach teams to effectively understand, in terms of some means of civil service being put in to effect, which could quell the ongoing drama and settle the unease of the citizens who reside here. 

Being on the ground level, out on the streets, here, myself, in particular - for being one of the dedicated bird flocks’ caretakers in the locality, as well as that I happen to patronize Skid Row drug dealers, I get, at a minimum, at least some conjectural intelligence and informed status, in regards to what seems to be going on, within the campus that precludes downtown Los Angeles. 

The mental health system is failing abuse victims, as the prevailing disposition that I’m presented with, for example. I do my best to accommodate my otherwise poor emotional support mechanism, in life, through aesthetic means, whether it be situational, environmental, artistic, and sometimes, I seek the pleasurable. Long days of persecution, of my schizotypal mind, by personas that fall by the wind, during the majority of my life - who truly is in my life, to any appreciable degree? 

My apologies, for making this a personal note, on my blog. It got neglected, of my earlier ambition to cover the greater mental health victims demographic, and I got swept in to a several-hours long remote sensing debacle, largely of forgettable and transient things, lacking in accountability, and yet seething with sadism about it. Apparently, one person cares to see me incarcerated, rather than that I take, for myself, an amount of crystal methamphetamine that drug dealers care to allocate and provide, of my purchasing from them.

Update: 10/17/2021: As it turns out, today would perhaps stand as one in which infamy reigned over personal freedoms and the autonomous mind. I made a report, last night, to the FBI (or tried to; there was an impassable form input error message). Would that have happened to have hijacked my attention span? All in all, I made some off-color jokes last night, and people are in an uproar about this and that, still; people from my past, who harbor a distaste for me, for my penchant for honesty. Today was a day of descent, so to speak, in to the recesses of the prelimbic mind, (which happens to be under review, or subject to < rescind >, “apparently,” as far as autocorrect goes). Yikes. Watch out, there. In any case, I founded this .institute aspiration and enterprise based upon much of what an intelligence and development enterprise ought hold as sacred knowledge; things that must be kept, throughout disaster and peril. 

The disavowal of pre-limbic mind. Mind control. I’m just, at this point in time, (acutely), being offered dissent, in regards to my freedom. It appears to be a home town row and hazing of me; I can tell: the type of demographic is telling, at times. People speaking so freely, and without care, or consideration towards me, and as I’d mentioned, I’m simply largely alone, in life, at this point in time. I suppose that I’ve upset some people. Not everyone, by any means, but quite apparently - some people. 

Essential Urban Survival Technique - Thwarting an Ether Faucet Attempt.

 Any well-traveled trekker | overnighter of the urban landscape knows the feeling well: 

Having happened upon life, as such, as that sleep becomes unfortunately inevitable, at an inopportune time, in an inappropriate locale; that is, might seem as though it’s somewhat the sufferer’s own fault, for grazing in unfamiliar territory. 

 Even so, don’t be afraid, and don’t be discriminatory in where you set foot, about town; simply go about life as a well-prepared individual, well-resourced, well-packed, and you’ll do just fine. 

I’d not done so well, in previous years, but I’m nearing upon age 40, and I’d say that I’d experienced the vast majority of life experiences that I’d possibly come across, in my time, and there’s not much that could be done to me that I hadn’t experienced, previously, as a well-heeled trekker of the Los Angeles urban landscape. Just this past week, in fact, I thwarted a so-called (nicknamed via my own predilections) ether faucet, which is a classic simple petty theft’s criminal’s doing, or perhaps they’d do worse, to a lady, or something like that. 

It happens as misfortunately as described, just prior: a sudden need to fall asleep at an inopportune time, in an inappropriate place; perhaps a poor part of town, infested with tents, cockroaches, trash, rioting going on - that sort of thing. The police are on top of it, or something like that. People have to rest, sometimes, and letting loose an ether faucet will put the freeze on things, so to speak. 

What is ether?

I don’t really know what, or which - (ether) is the particular ether in question, and I’m not going to look it up, either. For my purposes, ether could potentially be a fragrance chemistry industry solvent, (… eh, I won’t elaborate on it - I don’t own any, myself), and ethers are a particular class of chemical compound, aside from that. It’s the sort of thing that could get somebody some unfortunate attention, perhaps, from the authorities, that is. My purpose here isn’t to educate the reader about ether, the drug: the primitive anesthetic that it is, as a basis. I had first learned about it from the drug-lore film, “Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas,” in which one of the guys was playing around with it, and look how Johnny Depp ended up - handsome heartthrob, early on, and well in to his later career, yet he’d been beset with tabloid scandal, in his later years, for living out his acting career roles (ostensibly) to a real-life pitch, in the behind-the-scenes sort of lifestyle that inevitably becomes the duty of the actor, playing the part. The other guy, Guillermo Del Toro, (or something like that; this is all off the top of my head, here), ate more food, throughout life. A bit more innocent, as far as analysis goes. I hadn’t caught wind of any poor press about him. Johnny Depp, on the other hand, had recently hit the scandal headlines, with his breakup from Amber Heard, a model, etc. etc.

Anyways…

An ether faucet. A scum bag tweaker’s crude weapon in assailing a targeted victim who stays out too late, or who ventures off in to an unseemly part of town, without imbibing in drug use (breaking bread) with the locals, who’d like to rob or rape the person being targeted, or perhaps it’s some measure of riot and crowd control, implemented by the authorities, following an outbreak of acute societal unrest, in the civic center area, about town. This was somewhat my experience of things, as I woke myself up, out of the narcoleptic, deadening slumber, which happens to accompany an uncharacteristic chill, to the limbs and body; a noticeably chill wind about the air, and an incapable self, as for getting up, waking up, and getting out of the area, for that criminals could easily thwart the individuals defenses, and gain access to their valuables, or possibly kidnap the person, and commit foul things, for a ransom; for example. 

Fortunately, I was well-equipped with an orange flower absolute spray bottle, 

just large enough to hold several dozen sprays, and yet, orange flower absolute: complex enough, to thwart an aerosol-based attack as crude as an ether faucet. I sprayed one spray, after coming to realize that I ought not sleep it off, and be content, and the tiredness was immediately swept away. 

There were intimations of a mockery of me, coming about, in my misfortune, of “some girl” sitting down, in front of me, where I lay, on the sidewalk, saying stuff like “hey, how’s it going?” 😘

That was my opportunity to get up, and get about, on my way, to my standard haunt, which I won’t disclose. The tiredness came and went, intermittently, throughout various parts of town, but my orange flower absolute reconstitution did the job quite well. I used Poucher’s formulation (Poucher was a noted armed forces scholar, in literature and in photography). Here’s his recipe for orange flower absolute, which can also be further researched through Google Books online. 

  An ether faucet is a horrible thing to burden, but hey, maybe it averted a worser societal outcome, all in all. Being properly prepared, with a complex aromatic aerosol compound is simply part of the technique in appropriately surviving the threat, coming through, with all valuables and reputation intact. It smells great, for that matter, and it’s a unisex sort of fragrance. Take heed, though, certain formulations of an orange flower absolute could be overly simplistic, or detrimental, in the sort of chemistry involved in what ether is, which I don’t quite know, myself, and I don’t really care to investigate it, online, for that matter. Just order some ingredients, and make the stuff yourself. It’ll assist you in embodying a more outgoing and adventurous self, as the cold months to come, ahead, accommodate the sort of robbery tactic that succumbing to an ether faucet would entail. 

Thankfully, people are keeping the birds fed during this public health crisis.

I stopped over in DTLA, after returning an unexpectedly fortunate haul of recyclables to the tune of $7.70 at GP Recycling. 

A passing bike rider observes the Los Angeles Public Library flock of pigeons after they enjoy a meal for the afternoon.

Largely, aside from some scant touristy and locals type of population being outdoors in downtown Los Angeles, there is an obvious larger demographic of homeless individuaos, as well as individuals trekking about, after being released from Los Angeles County Jail. The other night, the depravity population was out in large numbers, many of them looking for trouble. I was fortunate to have some overseer protective status, as a victim of crime asset, of which, there was a vast underpinning allegory being portrayed to my front-of-mind, as the remote theatre of operations of a tactical nature, which had escalated in to Army Corps of Engineers being called out to make sure that the ground water was suffice to manage the ongoing enumeration of Civic individuals, and as well, as a courtesy resource management Target accommodation, in that the ambient temperature of DTLA is sometimes artificially warm, or unseemingly cold, and windy, to help preserve the safety of displaced victims, and to calm the seeking slight criminal nature of the otherwise also displaced, or perhaps gang-affiliate group injunction status of the street-walking demographic, which was rife, out on the streets on Thursday. 

As I sit down for a quick abstract on a more efficacious tobacco smoking method, a received broadcast of that my mother is screaming about her body burning in pain.

Peter Ehrlich, David Yang, and « homies » « bro » « dog » « fool ("foo") »

« [these police officers] » were offhandedly implicated; (contextually, not seemingly so much in deed of fault,

It's supposed as that my parents are being held up as hostage victims within their home. My parents had brought me up in the age of the internet as a believer in the inherent overarching goodness of people in society. 

Resonant harmonic frequency tobacco smoking, which was a sympathetic context to my aims in life, in that I aspire to produce the au jour pigeons carnival of some historic and cultural reputed austerity in life;

It's imaginably a purpose that's been fulfilled in other cultures throughout history, such as that had been achieved in the pipe-organ cathedrals of Europe. 

Given that pipe organs have a cousin in the Calliope, who, referentially, is the muse of Greek mythological lore, a traveling and compact version of the great pipe organs, which were produced most notably (according to my learning, at this point in time) - in the early-mid through late-mid centuries of the second millennium of our Lord, Jesus Christ.

Resonant harmonies, which, in a simpler sense, are easily portrayed as though steel drums might be thought of, as that they are metal cylindrical devices shaped in to various resonant shape-areas of the hammered top surface.

Likewise, various and curious notable pleasurable tobacco smoking experiences might; conceivably, due to the radioactive nature of the tar, smoke, and chemical components of smoke passing through an aluminum can (here, I used a Red Bull 8.4 fluid ounce can) - produce novel and slightly variant smoking experiences (here, I had been graced with discovering a pouch of Backwoods tobacco, which is a well dried and cured cigarillo tobacco with a bright and rich character about it) -

Through aesthetically and mathematically organic, natural forms, representationally; be fashioned on to the aluminum can in some consideration of harmonic resonances which can be produced through poking holes in the can with a regular large (1-1/2 inch, or so);

Perhaps in tetrachordal or isomorphic imaginative form. Various poking-centers in logistically, complementaritively, or through ingenuity - will create various suction-based slight high-frequency harmonics to suit the purpose of creating conceivably-resource for technical analysis or for aesthetic enjoyment.