New Developments in the South Bay (updating)

Since

I haven’t been receiving unemployment deposits on to my CA EDD (California Employment Development Department) debit card, any time recently - perhaps since early spring, this year, or so; I was upright and cautious enough to get through the whirligig of what had been the heyday of Pandemic Unemployment Award benefits, in addition to standard unemployment benefits, as well as Federal Disaster Aid benefits (something like that), which had made mid-2020 through Q3 of 2021, or so, an illustrious gilded pigeon-egg golden (imagined 🤔) phase for fragrance and aroma ingredients procurement and some product development along those lines, for iPigeon.institute as well as IoTpigeons.eco. I had done some bungling preliminary work on branding the fragrance-interested arm of the enterprise, as iPigeon Aroma Company, but so far, it’s not had a foundational establishment to ground ideas, from out of it, or retail-ready product line, to present to testers. I’m a bit overextended, in other words, but I’m working out some of the latent consequences, such as uncanny neck pain (I’ve been developing what’s been described as an expert technique - perhaps quite niche, since I do “oxen” types of hauling labors, lately, and even more so than I might, otherwise, since I’m flat out on the streets, and looking for a new place to call home - a board and care facility, in this instance, rather than a transitional living home (whatever that means, 🙄 it ended poorly, I must say). At any rate, I’ll update the advanced next cracking video series, for the specialization in self-help | pressure point healing that it attends to, in blood circulatory wellness. It’s not quite massage, and it looks pretty jacked, but I’ve been finding it necessary to correct myself in public; strange that I might appear to be, for doing that sort of thing, but nonetheless, it’s not necessarily my fault - the dirt on the topic was that it felt like there was electrical lines running underneath the floor in my room, and I’m not quite all that much paranoid, like, a for real squirrels type of paranoia 🫣, plus, there was marijuana being grown in the garage just below me: my room was ostensibly adjacent to the corner of the ceiling of the garage. Strange developments from out of that sort of thing can be found on my Twitter feed.

Now, 

though, I’m out in the open air, and these charges that I’ve been cracking out, illegal that they’d been called, have been getting normalized, and attenuated, for being pressed out of my joints and connective tissue. I’ve also had the good fortune to be able to try out, for product reviews that I’m hired for, and I feel that they’ve largely been fairly okay, and sometimes better than just imagining that they might be working. It’s been a boon to my enterprise developments, post-Covid-19 gilded age era type of thing. 

So, I got out of town, this evening

and I’m over in the South Bay - a nice diversion from the business and chaotic identities that make DTLA such a hyper-vigilant real squirrels type of reality basis life - I’m out, feeding the pigeons, guys are wondering, this and that, sometimes they want to fight, or catch me sleeping, vulnerable, which sucks, because I really do “have to” sleep outside, and I can’t really accommodate people trying to rob me and ask me questions in my sleep. It’s just rude, and I have to see people when I look at them, and being a stalking victim really makes a superficial me, out of myself, which I’m okay with, for the most part, yet the not okay stuff is still just not okay, at the same time. On one hand, it couldn’t possibly be okay, but I’m also committed to paying my taxes down for running a pigeon-feeding bum enterprise-able lifestyle thing, pigeons that they may be - they do need to eat, and I have been getting a lot of oversight accommodations to the stuff (that I do). Feeding the pigeons, and stuff. 

So, I’m thinking, wow - that’s pretty awrr rawr rough and tough, on a pigeon-feeding bum, but for this past year, being that the Covid-19 pandemic emergency basis had been established, I figure - they got a good assessment on me, some professional person who took a good look at what I do, and what basis for tax code things pertain to me, and I guess I can’t really say that I haven’t been a pigeon-feeding bum, and I made all sorts of claims about things on Twitter, and I can’t afford to look like an idiot, for very long, and try to talk my way around things, over at the finance office front counter, or something. There’s got to be some way I’m worth this money, and the Los Angeles City Office of Finance had arranged to have businesses be allowed to make reasonable offer accommodations of some sort, to get the taxes paid, and get the city running, and stuff. I’m not a complainer, but there could obviously be some improvements done and made done - I figured, in my case, I could keep it kinda bum-basis “looking” kind of thing, and I offered to clean up the streets of south Los Angeles, which are notable for regular, ongoing, and mass site dumps of trash and garbage, all around town, to a large degree. It’s a shoddy notable characteristic of the place, and I run a “clean-up” blog, for that matter, that I hadn’t really updated, for most of all of the year that I’d been keeping it up, as far as last year. The blog got tons of hits, though, relatively. I figured I ought to nurture the clean up thing, on that end. It was really a Trump-era aspiration to fulfill, and I was big on supporting Donald Trump, as President, for the good that I saw and knew of him, from what I could discern, and infer, as far as who he is, or might be - even though it went against the grain, so to speak, as far as most of my Facebook friends were, as opinionated people, at the time. 

But now

I’m in the South Bay. Things are a bit more reserved and upscale here, as far as presentation and as far as “the rules” go. Out here, in at least a few of the South Bay cities, a person could (and I had) be stopped and taken in, for example, by the police, for smoking tobacco in public. I got a misdemeanor charge dropped, after attending and participating in supporting 12-steps activities and groups, amongst many uninterested (or otherwise interested - in “other” kinds of stuff - a lot of it stalking-basis kinds of things: fairly distasteful, in my opinion). I’d met the lovely young ladies who’d warned and cautioned me against doing this and that, sort of thing - even though it would seem enticing and like, that things could be like I imagined they were - like, first date night kinda stuff, but back then, to be honest, I was a much different-minded sort of person, and I thought that various more so thing that I’d like to do would wind up being rewarding, whereas I was just setting out on my early illustrious homeless years, speckled with incarcerations, involuntary hospitalizations, and more homelessness. Here and there, I got to (or tried to) grab a boob, and stuff, but even that kind of fluff got further and further away from being likely to have had happen, and, at some point, I just stopped trying. I worked up some self-sufficiency, and resilience, counting on this pigeon-feeding bum thing, and associated blogging efforts - along with the fragrance and cosmetics line developments to come: by all means, appreciable materialism that I’d been fortunate enough to have gained capital in, and hopefully, will continue forth, in maintaining a hold of - there’s been some nasty disputes about my “actual” ownership of my purchased property, and just tonight, in fact, they’re planning to riot in DTLA, and piss on the trees I’d been trying to nurture and fertilize, out there, rather than that they just don’t show up to downtown, at all, by night, to do that, but for some reason, they seem to feel emboldened by that sort of display and destruction - part of it, on at least one person’s mind, having that he’d taken particular issue with me, for personal reasons - reasons of dislike towards me, towards which, I’m like, “…” well, nah. I’m just, like, nah… about it. But he was doing something, not telling me about it, and apparently, my stuff is “gone.” Quite a hostile takeover, but I’m working out the legalities and jurisprudence consequences of the matter, for as much time as I can devote to it. It would be a significantly closely held loss to the enterprise and my productivity. 

Anyways, 

there’s some cool new developments out here, this area being neighbored to the Ballona Creek | Los Angeles River project, which begins at the beginning of Marina del Rey, at the south side edge of Venice Beach, winds through Playa del Rey, and here, in El Segundo, perhaps some groundbreaking work, where the Raytheon establishment had “seemed to” have formerly been (remember the rocket man news articles? (add citation - note), a new commercial hotspot development had popped up, over just short months that it’s been, since I’d been here - I love the Del Amo Fashion Plaza Nordstrom, here - it’s my favorite 😍, and there’s also a huge water main - perhaps some exciting work that’s new, and ground that’s been laid for some new sights to see, and development sites, as well, that pertain to the Los Angeles Watershed development program and progress, thereof - I’ll venture out more, towards the shore, from here, and update with more reports, as I come across new things that I notice, out here.

The El Segundo Golf Course, (I’m not sure of what it had been named, previously), is now a notable TOPGOLF establishment. It looks great! I ought to really try out this spot, since it’s been newly renovated, and make use of my Turnway padded foldable golfing bag, which I had been using for carrying around my gardening tools. It’s available on Amazon for $78.99. It’s got great wheels on it, and it can support at least 15-20 pounds, traveling on even the streets and concrete, for miles at a time, without fading out on the wheel support. 

I overnighted at the El Segundo Plaza. Not much all that new, there, but I did have a penchant for the place, given that there are power outlets available outdoors, with lighted trees, in the parking lot. The lights shut off on me, though, along with the electricity. Perhaps I ought to check on that, moving forward, at some point. Hopefully it wasn’t something that would be a significant fault of mine, but I’ll look in to it. Come morning time, I woke up, and the people in the locality wound up having various appreciable offerings and leave-outs for me, which I detailed on Twitter:

A super-cute look at the famíly behavior of sparrows at feeding time. (Updated)

I'm still out at the Spring Street end of the Grand Park lawn, although earlier, I had gone out for groceries and cigarettes, both for myself, as well as that I had considered others, of the micro-locale of the tent-city thing|s| going on, around the corner, and on blocks nearby, down by the 101 freeway overpass. 

A male sparrow hopped up, out at me, from the edge of my bags, beside me, and he chirped, assertively. It was super cute how he greeted me. It turned out that I had a half-burrito from outside of Atelier.

Why Pigeons?

Why pigeons?

Pigeons are the ostensible accessible, by seasonal means, within reasonable reach of even the most common foray wildcrafted adventurer of from full spectrum of civic environmentalism, from rural to metropolitan bird lover’s take. 

In short, pigeons are conceivably accessible to any and all civic environments. That being said, seeing reasonable gains being made in developing an admirable outdoors daily visiting bird flock, within months, can be reached, within any reasonable locality around; just find out where the pigeons flock, on a day to day basis. All sorts of lifestyle behaviors will come to light for having paid attention to the pigeons life and society, as is notably be aught to discover in discourse, is ostensibly such suitable conversation to have on any notable means, in all sorts of capacities, perhaps gone unnoticed by many, in all sorts of conversational foray, come to considerably forthright aught concomitant foray of negligible commiserate sayings of French fortitude, then check the transnational literate dictionary usage du jour asseoir, and find it ostensibly usage enough to come to determine that you’ve just learned French, well enough, by osmosis.

Something like that. It hearkens back to the old country, and for that matter, why not bring usage of French into the French school américain, le lycée français?