I finally got an iPad Pro back in my life.

 I probably vaguely covered the topic, as well as that I vaguely disappeared from updating this blog - I'm referring to last year (2023) around the beginning of July, which was when I woke up in a nurse's dorm, completely naked; I was the victim of an overdose (apparently). 

I struggle to recall the precise details of where I went wrong, leading up to this occurrence, after the fact, and I swear that I had identified that my personal belongings were somewhere in the nurse's dorm, yet I was too much out of it, at the time that I was transported to the main part of the hospital by the emergency medical transport personnel, to make certain that my belongings weren't lost in the shuffle, being that these were items most surely attached to my body (I wore my iPad Pro, at the time, inside a bag that I never took off). I can recall that I found a fentanyl-tainted methamphetamine sample inside a  silicone container, nearby where I slept, back then, as a homeless person, but I recall that I consumed it without issue, at the time, and that I went about my day just fine, at the time - not quite in fine form, as I had to resort to shopping-carting around, since my baby stroller broke down (I used the stroller to transport my items around town). The reason I reported to the shopping cart was, ironically, related to my iPad Pro, of back then, to begin with - I had a delinquent bill, with AT&T, and, as I was, at the time, I could only imagine making payments for the device, and for my service, with recycling money (collecting and redeeming recyclable bottles and cans). 

Nowadays, things are different from all of that, lifestyle-wise, and to my benefit - this model iPad Pro is the latest model; it had been a while, since I was out on my own, without an iPad Pro to prop me and my project aspirations up, and make things presentable. My financial situation, on top of my housing circumstances, are much more well-supported, at this point. On one hand, looking at my own iPad Pro, after experiencing, first hand, an Apple Vision Pro, which is fantastic, and a heap of fun to play around in - it's challenging to portray the experience to somebody else, but, in short, it is a truly immersive augmented, camera assisted, operating system, run primarily on eye-tracking technology, whereas the controls of the device (keyboard, scrolling, etc.), unless the user implements the Dwell option, which means, essentially, that the user's gaze, and a certain amount of time afterwards, upon a single object, such as a link, the corner of an app window, a menu list of items(s), basically any individual selectable item within the operating system and apps is gaze-able. The cool thing about the Vision Pro, though, is the augmented reality feature of resizing screens, such as video screens, as can be imagined, I fancy, by referencing my iPad Pro, in my room.

The Christmas season 2 episode of Ted Lasso, a show I came to be fond of, after trying out the Vision Pro.

Now, imagine that the iPad Pro screen is resizable, up to virtually the entire visual field, and all of it (apps and VisionOS) is controllable by camera-tracked fingertip pinches. The resizing feature of it would amount to that there is now a 100-inch projection screen in front of the viewer, all done virtually, with some simple finger gestures, done in thin air. It's quite fantastic, and it makes watching media on smaller devices a bit dull, although the iPad Pro does have a gorgeous color profile to it, and great apps, which aren't matched by other platforms - that's what I really missed about my lost iPad Pro - the accessibility and the diversity of activities that I could achieve in the iPadOS platform, with an iCloud backup installation of an iPadOS that dated back several or more years, which I had been building upon. I lost access to my backup, this time around - I guess that I was fooling around with tightening up the security of my device, out of paranoia, I'm sure; I became convinced that somehow, people were tunneling in, or had peeked over my shoulder, on the bus or train, for example, and I changed my password in to something hopelessly complex, prior to losing my device, due to the hospitalization. 

Anyways, here's to a new season of better photo captures and high-resolution video, as well as advanced graphic and image creation, for the Sticker Time collection. Who knows what'll be next?

Anyways, I purchased up the iPad Pro in-store on Cyber Monday, and it arrived near the end of the week, and I picked it up. I was expecting to slip right in to my trusty old iPadOS installation and configuration, with over 700 apps neatly organized in to folders, if I remember correctly, but I apparently did some screwy stuff with my iPad Pro that I had previously, right before I had my misfortune last year, when I lost my device, and I locked myself out of getting the configuration, itself, (which amounts to a lot of work - the configuration of the apps in to folders). I must have changed the password on myself, or something like that, because I couldn’t sign in with my previous iPad password, for my old device; hence, I lost that section of the work I put in to the device, but it amounts to only the encrypted information on the device, itself, not iCloud-stored information. So, I’ve got to make out a new, or makeshift, configuration with a new set of folders, but I’m definitely glad to have the device back in my hands - this one’s thinner than ever: Apple calls it “impossibly thin,” and it’s practically true, yet it’s a very sturdy device. One of the first things that I did was LiDAR-scan my room and port over my video game accounts, that I started playing on my other, Android devices, and, as luck would have it, the progression ended up being a passing of the torch, completely, from an Android tablet experience - not a bad one, with this Yatiom model tablet, “for kids,” it had been marketed as, yet, it came with 10 GB of RAM: pretty competitive, as well as intelligently put, although my new device has 16 GB of RAM. There were some processes that I was running, in audio, on my old device, that pushed the limits of throughput and available memory (apparently), and I encountered an app crash, from out of running those processes on my old iPad Pro, which only had 8 GB of RAM. In any case, somehow, serendipitously, my Yatiom Android tablet got it’s screen broken, the next time I looked at it, after receiving the iPad Pro, so I’m lucky to not have had a lapse in tablet format and a higher-RAM-running operating system.

R.I.P. to my broken YATIOM Android tablet, which gave out, just as soon as I received my new iPad Pro.

Lifestyles of the group home (transitional) transients - freon-huffing, post-cloudz 🤯

 Man, oh, man, these housemates of mine really pop off, for the start of a day - a workweek Monday, for that matter.

Having spent some years in transitional living homes, after doing some time, immemorable, of some form, around the time I was evicted from my Section 8 apartment, for excessive crumbs and knickknacks crumbs and knickknacks awrr rawr rawr, I’d (fearfully so) had become acquainted with some transient group home types, much more down to home and in-my-face, err, (some other) mental health detriment, some other personality disorder. 

That being said, I do have some reasonably good and well-read psychology chops, so I commonly moonlight as a public health operative, out in the field, or, at home, much the same - that is, to say, that these demographics are much like common folk who are out and about, and I hear that many of them are equitably to be found in sober living home settings; it’s a certain branch off-shoot of that lifestyle and placement, by public and mental health, as well as social service and local government organizations. 

This is transitional living.

I’ll keep it short, and to the point - these folks share their knowledge base and resources, however well-resourced, somewhat fairly freely, amongst each other, and, in my case, they find me the “gay” one - the one to pick on, for being well-groomed, well-dressed, clean cut, etc., so they direct a significant amount of inappropriate attention towards me, once I leave home, to head out, and feed the pigeons, for my work day, or, perhaps, they do it somewhere off in the periphery. 

But anyways, this is the memo. The drama, of an ongoing nature, I’ve come to (re-)discover, through “hearing” stuff - something along these lines, I’ll say, tantamount to a strong air-pressure leakage, from a holding tank, perhaps of a commercial, rather than personal, -sized tank, such as for Freon tank refilling, or installation. 

Essentially, it seems to allow for the users to become exotically more so euphorically intoxicated, with blissful renditions upon life, at a strange hour, in life, (comparatively), such as perhaps just prior to 8 a.m., through 9:30 a.m., or so. I did “similarly,” yet not “huffing” stuff(-ly) so, types of things, back in college, when I had a girlfriend, but I was, comparatively, embarrassed, when I realized that my neighbor could hear me, from across the way. 

Some scraped intelligence, from Apple Search, to feed contexts and discovery in to Google Search.

 Is crypto literally simply founded upon illicit drug use and gang affiliations? - as the commonly, albeit slight, popular belief of the masses, had come to the fore? 

Who hadn’t slighted that belief, for staying up on news feeds during the pandemic, etc.? Who hadn’t experienced some sort of detriment, as a result of gang affiliated individuals collectivizing, gathering, creeping, and targeting victims? It’s been a quite blatant context of unknown extents, in my life; partially apparently due to the inclusion of heroin in to the personas - granted, I’m not completely immune from prosecution here, as a regular methamphetamine user, but I am trying to clamp down this notion of drug abstinence, and solace; of contentment in my standard self. I’ve been seeking ways in which I can instill practices, and disciplined formative traits in myself, in rebuilding a resilient and immune identity, where feigned disbelief intersects with the truth, for how much the remote-sensing quadrants operators and engineers could, or might, imbue me with some higher power that exists, out of a more or less faulty persona that could aught be supposed of a drug-abusing individual, for that these things are deemed to be unlawful. (I had a slight notion of starting beyond, at “albeit,” in this moment). 

A picture gleaned upon Apple’s Search processes suggests a dark intimation of what construes a highly popularized and centrifugal financial behemoth, given cryptocurrency’s moment in the spotlight, for having been novel, whereas now, the details are under federal government scrutiny and international regulations, constraints, and rebuke, of various issues at context, given cryptocurrency.

These sorts of Nijinsky are scarcely so autocorrected, contextually deeply-dug, such as “I doo-doo,” the claim. Who could remember, beyond the novelty? 

Ah, Nijinsky. Had I not even known - is what’s had had had happened - trying to regain traction, here. These autocorrect things, these days, with the introduction of “actual” improvements, bearing upon contextual intelligences, of machine learning, and of artificial intelligence - Apple and Google both, as big tech awrr rawr rawr rough and tough contenders to the popular titles of achievement and progress upon linguistic and visual perceptual GANs (Generative Adversarial Networks), and ooo… I had a dedicated and obsessive adversary, whereas I was more intent, on the keyboard, upon a “ab” (awkward, but that’s how I projected, in vivo, the sentence ought to be composed, d hoc, and improvisatorily, of an organic discovery and discernment upon the topic, thereof, and for that matter. 

Remembering? Well, that’s a bit tough, when I’m me, of the standards that I’d imposed upon others, whereas I’m a skilled typist, on mobile, and these autocorrect things… fwoppin’ bwopp? Priceless…?! et cie novelty-minded crumbs and knickknacks, of the minded-so aught of, thereupon, of outpacing this detriment - we have the written accord, of the textual nature, and composition’s … umm… there’s some legal term for this sort of dispatch. Not quite disposition, or exposition, butt shittle? … “even better,” it had once come to pass, upon the notion of cruising, at issue, of a legal matter… 

With that sort of GAN at formative construct, in nature, we could just opt to rebuild life, from the bitsies, and the pieces, of what had transpired, of on piss? Muah. 

Just maybe. 

But okay. That was an example of a Generative Adversarial Network, I’d suppose, and it just popped up, out of convenience. I’m the gritty-enough (un-)editorial drafts-type and typist to render that rawr awrr rough and tough little bitsies, crumbs, and knickknacks, fweef! 

And now, who could remember anything, once again? What matters? Who cares? All things had been taken care of, here, butt shittle? It’s all taken care of, here, already. 

Alright. The latest topic is that a man encountered me, the other day; a guy of a common; a more common sort, that I am, I’ll just be upfront about it - at least, of what he presented to me, but at least (once again - the GAN context impetuous underlying developing purpose at stake, of becoming less relevant, here) - at least he had artistic aspirations and offerings about himself. That was decent, I could say. What he said, though, of a different establishment, of the acquaintanceship, was that “it’s easy to hurt people.” Disregarding all else, that was an offensive superficial thing to flout, I felt. Bringing it to the current moment, I’m reminded of that I feed the pigeons, and the sparrows, and I try to sustain life, of these birds, out in the urban wild, as it were. These blogs are supposed to sustain the purpose and prescience of the guy who does that (me), and I happen to be the guy who does that, as me. I’m pinioned, as a guy who thinks of himself, to an unexpected extent, I suppose, and I guess that that makes me one who disregards people. I just feel like it’s appropriate. I did it to the guy, at one point, because he was flouting a certain type of inflection and intimation upon me, of which I find useless and condescending, whereas I had this slight pigeons and friends home art exhibition thing that I use as my sociable ladder, to climb in to casual civic “bed,” as it were, as for someone opening up to a notion of really getting to know me - the birds, the feeding, the art, the blogs, etc. 

Possibly, however, “the guy” has some of that sort of trait to him, in and of his own right, it’s just that I was a bit put off by his casual nature. It’s like, doo-doo comes first, then nobody can remember anything anymore. 

Ha.  

I couldn’t even… I just imagine that likewise, nobody else could, except that sometimes, I have this backing of a transcript dictaphoneur specialties-professionalism, in “somebody’s” higher authority stance, over me, whereas I experience problems, commonly, for enjoying myself, for example, on, like, a work day, and work day hours, for that matter, whereas I try to uphold a definition and reputation of a standard-classed man, for the people, and I let off flouted bitsies of the truth, in my admissions about stuff that I’d otherwise be known to do. 

The point, beyond all else, however, is a bit simple, of a premise. It’s about personal freedoms, somewhat, and it’s somewhat about boundaries. Now, given, I was wearing women’s balloon pants, and a poncho, and I looked a bit uncommon, as for myself. I don’t know what it was, I suppose. Maybe it was the smoking. The smoking in the household thing. I didn’t partake, because it was a pookie (a blown glass pipe used for smoking crystalline or resinous [oils] substances) - I’ve got no taste for that. Maybe that’s the non-pareil of establishment, here, supposing that people think, whatsoever. 

Alright, that was French, I’ll admit. Butt shittle? Not all that much for the better, as it turns out. But I did pull out a Nijinsky, and who could refrain from researching that thread of intelligentsia bitsies… 

*~<°^•>=/* just imagine, though, Nijinsky. Some people know Nijinsky like we were brought up on Lé Coqué-tard. Russian imperial, versus French modernism ex imaginative fwopp-lore. 

I suppose that, in the end, I’m just trying to find my suitable place, in the aesthetic of suitable geometries or placement in serendipity, amongst others, and I didn’t even watch the movie. I don’t, no. I doo-doo. I don’t quite understand… butt shittle? Some people just don’t read my shit, is what’s (I guess), the issue, whereas it’s so seemingly awfully compelling to the lower mindsets of individuals, and of responsibility. 

 

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.