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. 

 

Fitting in, as the paranoid schizophrenic narcissism movement’s poster boy mascot.

People who are adequately properly acquainted with me 

know that I have a hard time getting out of my head, when it comes to sitting down and socializing. I have to admit, I’ve been off, for a good stretch of time, given right now, and the months leading up to this point in time (Summer 2021), and there’d been little hope of seeing a clearing through the Los Angeles, CA “fog.” 

Here, in the militarized zone (TMZ) of Los Angeles, which is tech worker knowledge 101 (or, to be precise, “A+” certification priory of knowledge base, we, for one thing, don’t wake up, per se, in the morning. It just happens, eventually, as the sorry trudge through remaking ourselves, in professionalism, in a world where our Apple devices can’t capably we’ll be self-serviced, for one thing, and nobody much… well, everyone else, let’s say, would care to do the service on their devices for themselves. 

Okay. Actually, it’s not fog. At least, not that I could put my finger on it. Maybe the photo doesn’t capture it all that well, and it seems like a clear photo, above; from here to there, with my plain eyes, in viewing, the half-block, or so, distance from my vantage point, to the buildings nearby, I’ll say, are a bit “not quite” the standard “clear,” as could be said about “seeing things” and what might be expected, based on reasonably good vision. 

It’s easier to see the disparities in clarity, in the short-distance atmosphere of the place (DTLA) at night, through the early morning, lately, and I just happen to receive punishing intimations and suggestions, in my remote sensing assignment, laid upon myself (this started happening in 2012, right around this time of year, in fact) of all sorts of “me, myself (Jay)” types of storylines in my head, and it makes me really neurotic and somewhat casually dismissive of others, if they happen to break form with attending to the present moment, and with a purpose-driven mind about conversation, if anything’s to be said at all, about anything, for that matter, and as for myself, I’m readily one to admit that I’ve problems, and it’s “complicated,” let’s say. 

For example, I met a young lady last night, and she was a fawning courtesan to me, upon passing my way. I was digging through the garbage, trying to find some food, and there was a tasty soft drink in there, which I enjoyed, and she took to me, quite effectively, and I was drawn in to the prospect of making her acquaintanceship. We ended up speaking on friendly terms, well enough, as she acted as though she were enamored by me, but there was something just, perhaps, simply “in the way” of things. For one thing, she wanted to fix my recyclables collecting trait about myself, and she kept telling me that she would hold my bag for me, as we eventually left our initial place of meeting, and we went out for a walk (I wanted to go to the grocery store, for food; perhaps a bit extravagant, given that there was good food in the trash for me, that I hadn’t gotten to investigating and clearing for eats, by the time she met me). I do a standard gentleman, no problem, well enough, when I meet a new acquaintanceship, and I’ve been fortunate enough to have “not really” been an on-site, ITF, misfortunate stalking target, per se, lately; I don’t know what it is. Had they gotten been “talked to” about that sort of thing, or do I just look better? Is it my fragrance that I’m wearing, or is it because I put on some weight and muscle? Maybe it’s a bit of all of those things, although I am commonly troubled by how I look, facially, in the mirror, lately, on account of that I don’t get to sleep as much as I readily aught would sleep, give, how bothered and troubled I am, in my head. 

These developments,

I would say, would trouble anyone. Anyone who’s validly a peer to me, and many-to-most of them had abandoned me, and taken on a purpose about me, of disregarding that I have any decency about me, and all sorts of complaints and claims attesting to some sort of beliefs about me arise, in the dialectical, and I wind up being the center of people’s attention. Granted, it’s nice to be paid attention to, sometimes, and it’s even more delightful to win out, in intelligence, when somebody shows up to insult me, but the public is the greater determiner, I’ll say, of what’s truthfully valid and appropriate up-to-the-minute debriefing and slight course for facing judgment, from others, whereas I simply “hear,” or… 🤔 <_< “perceive,” I’ll put it, to be more appropriate, to the point, these various points of contention from former peers, who show up, in my “privacy” of my attending mind, at issue, and they simply never reach out on Facebook, or whatever, or respond, when I look them up and query them about how they’d been acting, in my head, which I happen to believe that they do, since I took on this schizophrenia sort of burden, back around this time of year, to be precise, tracing back to 2012. 

All sorts of wild stories and painful memories. 

Why not just admit to that you feel that way about me? I can fix it, if it’s a problem.

But the social ladder equivalent of being the gorilla’s silverback male, “given me,” endlessly (since back in 2012), shows back up, and I’m significantly troubled by what’s come of things, of my school days peers, and what they claim about me, or claim is significant topic of issue about me, and sometimes, I make them look truthfully, woefully, foolish (or worse), and I must say, I’ve got quite the penchant for the spoken or written word, and I’ve got a ton of great experiences to talk about, (if only) people would “actually” speak to me, which this girl, (getting back to the thread I had initiated, just a moment ago) was doing, with me. I had to eventually ditch her, though. Once, and then I came across her, again, and I’ve got it awrr rawr rough and tough, sometimes, with how I truly make a practice and discipline about life, to do life as I was brought up to be - a good baptist Christian man, since my boyhood, and stuff; I’ve got to make amends on what I’d been led astray for, in life, and presented of myself; my superficial self, amongst people, although I’d never quite all that much, to be honest, really betrayed my Christian upbringing. 

So I try to tame these wild ones - awrr rawr, rough and tough, with some patience, common sense, British intellect and know-how, of the cultural attainments made, on their part, given my Cantonese mother’s upbringing, and such: 

It’s just… how it is. Look it up. The British managed and ruled over Hong Kong, until 1997, I believe, imparting the early modern period and western traditions upon the Chinese, in Hong Kong - for 150 years (or so), until they returned Hong Kong to the Chinese government, at which time, it became… I dunno, “Chinese,” more so, (again; perhaps), and we happen to live in a Los Angeles, CA, where racial slights and slurs, and awrr rawr - rough and tough insults and “most casual” beliefs and practices of superiority and dominance features significantly, in the common mores and cares of society at large, and I’m one of them - the Cantonese; at least, a half of me. The other half is Lithuanian descent (my father, quite reliably - resembles the recent United States of America’s Vice President, Mike Pence, to be sure). 

Anyways, we all know how slight the Chinese get treated as, out here, and perhaps it’s largely a globalized perceptual basis that’s become familiar to many - the detriment to progress and the establishment of vast achievements and efforts put in to eliminating civil rights abuses, of others, and we’d “supposedly” (at least, in the courts, and in the minds of good Christian types of people, in America) gotten the slights, slurs, and casual insulting beliefs of our people straightened out, about many sorts and types of people that come to exist, in America, and that’s the primary basis of this country, to a large degree, on one hand. 

It just sucks, and I broke my hand, last month, punching the wall, exercising great lengths in patience and non-aggression, whereas I’m bound by the law, and - I’m on probation, on top of things, so if I mess up, again, in allowing physical violence to come of me, as for how others are treated, in life, I’m duly and highly susceptible to becoming remanded, if it gets around to that the police get called to attend to the issue, and I don’t much care to take a chance with that sort of thing. It’s a two year sentence that I was released, on conditional terms, and then, I didn’t follow through with anything, because I’d been bothered, in my mind, (schizophrenia), from back then (2017, or so), till now - fairly constantly, as a chronic and debilitating issue. 

Try it (not really, though <_<…) - breaking your hand against the wall, as an undisciplined fighter; as the angry person. I’ve got  a plate and pin, in my strong hand, and it was a one-two punch, that it was, this time around, but my weaker hand didn’t have all that I thought of myself - turns out. It’s healing up nicely, well enough, now, though. I’m a bit ambivalent about it. On one hand, I like the tough guy, scars, and such, sort of facets and traits about me, although I’m not quite… let’s say, “not disturbed,” of the mind, to attend to my higher purpose, and due diligence, to, like, the gym, or proper exercise, and stuff. I just go out, and I binge on drugs, and that’s obviously not allowed. I just feel that I need it. Not every drug, yet I’m woefully a habitually methamphetamines abuser, although I’m set on the self-maker statement, of my formative self esteem, and aspirations, of that I’m constantly trying to quit, and maybe - this time around, as for today - I’m going to do it properly, since I hear about such horrible things going on, and I don’t really care to elaborate on things, because of the degree of disgust that would be involved, about stuff, if I made it real, by talking about it. 

I feel like, maybe… some people care, and some people… just care “otherwise,” and significantly obsessively and abusively so, and I broke my hand against the wall, because I’ve entrained myself as a significantly astute Christian man, against doing life, of aggression, that. I could, …

but that would just spoil my self-affirming beliefs of that I could really do something in life, and I meet such great people, in my mind, and if only, at that, and violence, as a basis, isn’t all that much an appropriate, or date-worthy sort of topic to even touch upon - I can speak on so many other good and appropriate contexts, such as my feeding the birds thing, and the art associated with it; that’s all good and appropriate, enough - sort of topic that could, perhaps, … hmm. How to say it… I dunno. I’ll let others decide for themselves, and I’ll have things my way, and see how things go. 

I don’t really know what to say… if you don’t talk to me, about anything but abusive sorts of stuff to say about someone, and I know I look bad, lately (facially), sometimes, … and if these people take drugs all the time, … like they “do…” - let’s be real here. This type of behavior must, and could only be explained by drug abuse, and for keeping up with me, and I look so poorly, of the face, and stuff, … but that’s me. I try to do stuff to make up for things. 

I guess that’s all, for now. I’ve got stuff to do today. It’s Monday. Work schedule, and work week, sorts of stuff. 

But the blasting, going on, and the disturbances, and stuff… I dunno. I can’t fix everything - especially if people keep messing with me, and then, if I just couldn’t possibly like you, right now, … like, for reals, then just go away. “I’m gonna leave, now:” sorts of stuff. And that’s okay. 

Being a 'Normie' Guy Amongst the Age of Hormonally-Enhanced Male Subsets.

 Of on Dick Big Now, 

I, personally, could maintain that I'm not quite up to, or for it, given that my underlying psychological sexual affinities draw much closer to extended foreplay and orgasm denial.

Not that I'd been having much opportunities in heterosexual dating arise, any time recently, but I'm banking on that people live longer, in general, over time; I'll improve in my life's circumstances, over time, and I'm [unbeknownst, previously] just a particular someone who's time has come to a generational halt: the ones who enforce these types of upstart cells are jackin' juice, trying to keep up with law enforcement surveillance detail, and sometimes, or for correcting physical abnormalities inherited from birth, or from youth, in their nurturing environment's circumstances. 

I'd casually experimented with Testosterone supplementation, on one occasion, in life, as a dumpster digger treasure-hunting bum, digging through a dumpster. I found a 1/3rd (or so) syringe labeled as testosterone in a dumpster, and I happened to be in the Fairfax district of Mid-City Los Angeles; nice neighborhood, so I figured, "why not?" I took it as that the testosterone was for external and topical use. When I got home, I rubbed some of the creamy substance on to my shoulders and chest, since that was the area in which I would have liked a bit of growth and improvement on. Over the next day, or so, I had developed a somewhat buzzing, electric feel, around the area, and the muscles that I'd applied the cream to had a dull ache about them, as if I'd worked out, which I hadn't, much, besides that I was out collecting recyclables. 

These days, I'm a bit bulky hefty, in my upper body, and I'm significantly muscular in my legs. I go on long walks around town, several times a week. 

Cheap trick shit, of a hooker, or « something like that », a Dick Big Now would commonly have of it. As for myself, I feel that I would be troubled significantly more so, if my penis was getting in the way of my life, in common scenarios, come to pass, as they do, all the time. For that matter, I'm circumcised. I don't have to worry about things in regards to my privates that my parents hadn't taken care of, already, and also based on what's known about health. 

"The human race is in peril because of people who use drugs religiously."

 - unknown male observer, 4:55 p.m., May 20, 2021.

At some point in time, I feel like many of my life's circumstances and problems do, in fact, arise from out of other people in life who take issue with me. The latest was just yesterday, where, the day prior to yesterday, I had serviced a client I'd met through craigslist, and he bore some resemblance to some other guy I'd known, previously. I don't really gossip about people; I try to keep it Christian, but the circumstance was that there was a debate over who was the most handsome tweaker Nazi of downtown L.A., or "something like that," whereas I'd garnered some support for myself, in the run for achievement of that end, in life, "supposedly," based on that women's remote personas were being portrayed as such. 

So, I get pwned sometimes. It's most typically portrayed to me, in my mind, as *some guy." At times, the man is shielded of his identity towards me, yet only for an ephemeral extent of time. Inevitably, the man is ousted of his veil of secrecy, and intimations of that a law enforcement officer, or some sort of surveillance agent, had been figuratively embodying the interlocutor, imitating his affect and formant through means of technology, whereas the person whom I am familiarized with had been, in turn, himself pwned by surveillance, and a drama in which he is presented with me, imminently myself, somewhere else in the world, by most means of imaging (typically). For as much as the portrayal of me is worth, of for « thoughts | imagination | beliefs » sake, the man finds the novelty of me timely, and an adjunct to ascending the ladder of sociable capital and narcissistic supply. 

Inevitably, when the ruses of transpired suggestibility become played back at me, I'm so commonly simply prepared for the relentless siege upon my freedom and autonomy, being that I am (and "we" are, for all intents and purposes) the same age as these people (I'm currently 39 years old), and I'd obviously grown up, as a child, expecting that I'd be living a family life, dating, settled down, working, more or less: standard stuff in life; I feign existential circumstance as though I'm now babysitting my school days' peers, as an adjunct mental health professional (although I'm unpaid for that task, and I hadn't gone through formal education for it; only personal pursuits in study of psychology and abnormal and antisocial personality disorders, of which subject had been of considerable aspirations, for me, in learning, given that I suffer from bipolar disorder, myself. The difference is, is that I'd had private medical insurance afforded me, through my parents, during my upbringing, and I'd been more situably appropriate for standing in on abnormal psychological stubs of egotistical and grandiose psychology traumas of my former peers, whereas I'd had a streak of wild financial and romantic successes, quite commonly, in my former early adult years. People became sick of it (guys, for the most part). These were guys that knew me as a different person. Don't people leave high school and establish their furtherance in successes in life, for moving forth in education or employment, via some route of expected progression throughout adulthood? 

It's trite, by all means, yet I sometimes emerge as the « graces-bestowed » charismatic self-aggrandizing and condescending narcissist.

Shit as it is, compared to intimacy and affections, we're only as much as handicapped could suppose of the situation, of that the belief of « sight unseen, winner take all », although, upon offering things a second thought, or a few seconds of stepping back, and establishing composure, it's apparent that remote-sensing-initiated encounters levy us handicaps, at best; we're not afforded our imminent concurrency of our physical environment, for one; forgetfulness, listlessness, and glitches in thought processes and memory are common shortfalls in such a developmental environment, where drugs are undoubtedly most commonly involved, and humility is a character trait and virtue that had perhaps not been imbued upon the unfortunate children inside of them, abused of that many of us had been, of some sort, and that it had gone without acknowledgment, or corrections, throughout and up to this point in our early middle professional semi-adult lives. 

Other people are treated differently, by these guys. The entire premise of American values, at their most fundamental, is fraught with abuses and dissidence, through these young men, as if virtue itself was disposable, and extending in to quantum mechanics and communications intelligence industry and productivity means we're somehow on our minds, whatsoever, as children that we had been, as we knew each other, whereas people still find my childhood self relevant, somehow, and I'm left with only supposing that misfortunes had befallen them, as hapless abuse victims of their early developmental and nurturing environment's had been all that they realize and care for; our fathers being faulty, for as much as they could have been afforded in life, whereas now, excuses of merit and attainment are null concomitants in life, and expectations, in intellectual actualisations and capable selves, that we could, and ought be, are falling short of ourselves, whereas the tape roll may or may not have some active attention and oversight | followup, if you will, by some distanced third party objectivity mind about the matter. 

In a more effective, impactful, and well-developed economy and society, intelligence would be expended liberally, as though we could play with the notion, while gaining in merits, for that developments, upon efforts, were the pleasurable pursuit and receipts of our blockchain ledger of harmonic tariffs expenditure that come to pass. At some point, artificial intelligence and machine learning superiority takes precedence over human-naked capable self, where quickness in perceptions to success ratios are commonly measures of intellectual merit, of just one form of merit, in intelligence quotient (IQ), and where cloud compute ephemeralities of remote sensing persona and presence, peering in, upon us, is the inevitable consequence of which we are afforded the liberal freedom of will, as it were, and given of that we are allowed our freedom of will, by our nation's constitutional foundry and formative statements. Surely, as some sort of anti-nationalist coup were to establish itself, we blurry the lines of distinction of identity, place and time, which had been regarded as self-indulgence partitioning of needs-based fulfillments pursuit, and "privacy leisure," such that I commonly end up finding myself commonly still pleasuring myself, watching pornography, whereas I'd had "good enough" relationships and attainments in life, to accept furtherance in needs fulfillment, such that I don't find, as a remote sensing abuse novelty, for men whom I'd used to know, in teenage and childhood years. 

Surveillance causes entropy.

It takes energy (heat, in essence, of some various sorts and forms). Sure, we take drugs; we "need" drugs, for that energy (our neurotransmitters and parasympathetic nervous system) are being actively monitored and interventions are brought forth, of our concurrent selves, given life. The monitoring, in and of itself, requires that energy is lost, in the process of observing and analyzing these slight and subtle broadcast and radar energetic signs, of ourselves. Many of us have personality shortcomings, of our upbringing, such that we find ourselves lacking in attaining the suitable and acceptable selves that we'd like, and remote sensing monitoring is supposed to be for the sake of improvement, not for abuses of others.

People appreciate their own sickness 

in the same manner that a smoker has affections for their own smoke-flavored phlegm, during a bout with pneumonia.

Sure, a guy might have a bigger dick than me, and I simply don't care for it. Who could blame me? I'm fine with my own submissive fantasies; I work these things out, over time, and I learn what truly pleases a woman: being self-sufficient, self-reliant, and non-problematic, whether it be in bed or not, and how much of bedtime relations ought be a focus within the scope of a long-term relationship, anyways? 

I'd shrugged guys off, recently, of a mounting psychic attack regime of on dick big, going on months, now, that it's been relentless like that. Is the threat of my conservative Christian nature aspirations in life seriously that much of a threat to men, of such a large swath of them? There are other men who are employed, for example, looking in on my topic issue remote sensing contextually, and I must say that the standard|-ly| employed demographic fares much better in resilience and self-esteem. 

Let's face it, stalker guys. We're not quite allowed the full freedom and agency support of the authorities, themselves. I don't know what's going on, of on dick big, but I'd suppose that it's something as simple as Freud's plighted child and infant stage dilemmas, whereas I don't know a whole lot about masturbation and sexuality of a time before I became cognizant and linearly-minded, of the world. That happened around age 5. One of my first memorable characteristic knowledge contexts was that I knew how to pleasure myself. I became a classical pianist, and my hands were imbued with extra focus, for example, given the extents of my knowledge base and repertoire of activities I might have, and did - engage in. Musical knowledge is one of the 8 or 9 intelligences, after all, and people otherwise appreciate musicians, and their lives and livelihoods.

It's like, they can't stand the fact that I'm me, and I receive pleasure from up and out of myself, sometimes. It's a sad thing, to be sure; if I wasn't me, and I had to be myself, as well, of some notion, but people are supposed to have something fair enough and decent about themselves, in any case. I worked hard in learning, growing up. As hard as I was capable of; yet people had been doing this "talking at me" thing since my childhood, I'm sure. All of this sort of knowledge base will inevitably become formalized in the future, and acting out in one's "private" time would surely reap additional consequences, once the statistics in communications intelligence become analyzed for cost and casualties incurred, compared to benefits of « other cells » of people who were allowed to operate differently. Keep in mind - affecting me, as a personalized favorite target has very scrum little effect on society in general, whereas common society moved forth, regardless, and despite that abused like this are playing out. Sure, it's a "easy" target to exploit - imagining that "talking at someone" is as good as "actually" speaking with someone, but you guys are mentally and emotionally unwell and immature. I say that there's some dick big and Freud's Penis Envy, or some other genitalia-sordid context underlying the thing. My penis is just standard normal, by any measure of evaluation. It's just standard, but was sexuality simply this much the issue at all times, every day, though? Women are going to learn standard and appropriately proper "stuff," sooner or later, and weirdos will be sorted out and fall short in effecting well and nurturing relationships, for courting abuses and psychosis, inevitably of that these guys smoke or shoot their drugs, whereas I offset the potential for risk and danger by limiting myself to snorting, and I honestly just don't, and can't - [quite] get that high. I don't get as high as these guys, anymore, and I feel that they are getting that high, smoking and shooting their drugs, or whatever, and sexually abusing me, as a false idol, whereas I become the representative of the sexually-abused person, in judgment over them, for the fact that sexuality had been repressed and reprimanded of me, whereas I grew up comfortably, in pleasuring myself, and these guys are trying to boycott and abuse even that, of myself. 

Opinion: What the nationwide uprisings signify, of a sociological and urban evolutionary perspective.

First of all, I'll be succinct about my stance on the Minneapolis crisis over the death of a suspect, in the process of detaining the man. I fully support law enforcement in their protocols. 

I feel that this simple basis, as a perspective in on the issue is largely what's at issue with the crowds of protesters, who are obviously primitively flaunting their suppressed egos and battered self-esteem, in times such as this; not to mention, it's the end of the month (May, 2020), and it's a duly fearsome time for many recipients of welfare. 

Whereas my general disposition imperative, of several to many of recent years, has been to ally myself with the dogmatic spirit of the 12 Steps program, in recovery and rehabilitation from drug abuse (which had just last night wreaked a bit of havoc upon my life's stability - I indulged in a debaucherous night in the Baldwin Hills Motor Inn - a local dive spot that was discretely introduced to me, for it's hourly rates and chintzy mirrored walls and ceilings. 

I couldn't take my eyes off of my new MacBook Air, which I had purchased just earlier in the day. 

... 

Which brings up another point in perspective - I got my Economic Impact Payment, from the U.S. Treasury Department - which I find to be a significant ringer in the debate as to whether or not Donald Trump will be re-elected, as far as the margins leveraged upon his persona and supposed identity, which has been largely exploited and unduly defamed, of reasons and intentions unclear to me, despite the fact that these views are also [had been, and still are]: first hand relations to me, on my Facebook profile. These types of contentious posters are somewhat just casual relations and acquaintanceships, from meeting once, or several times, perhaps, of a superficial sort that had not seen much reciprocity in nurturing a deeper connection. 

Oh well. Such is social media, for me. 

Then, there's the world of shortwave frequency band resonance broadcasts of the futuristic world that began nearly a full century ago, and which was developed through programs such as the MKULTRA intelligence programs, of fabled lore, yet not undocumented, and relevant, at that. 

The force with which a person is being controlled, for the subject (as each individual, of this abnormal psychological assay and surveying battery of diagnostics and tribunals lays it's vast expanse - of the world of psychology, in it's many facets. 

The duly manifold consequentials of that the COVID-19 pandemic are somewhat that the logistical and embedded worlds of the Physical Internet, the internet of Nearby Connections, and the Internet of Things are reachinga state of maturity in technical engineering, of a finery sort, such that devices of a physical circuitry board, and manufacture, are resonantly scalably accommodated, as virtual periphery - what we (I, at minimum, can acknowledge it) experience as remote sensing and remote surveillance; of which, amongst my peer groups, of social media, and former school days, of corroboration - I am a most centralized subject of inquiry, for the sake of efficiency and efficacy of the observants, in and around my periphery and contextual relevance; of indices of influence, of measures by which statistics and logic lay fare of their basis, upon the inquisiting mind, over man, that it might sometimes be. 

That being said, I've also come to a fairly mature stage in my development, of future technologies, within the facet of remote sensing, as well: known as space drama, as inquirers of the internet in to a short-term study in to Scientology, for example, could attest to, as familiar basis. 

That being said, these sorts of engagements are vastly cutting-edge urban and civic evolutionary models of establishment, and of expectations thereupon, and thereof; yet, in professional spheres, such as law enforcement, the psychological contingency of behavioral and forensic analytical skillset are largely at issue, of their formative scientific and civic basis, to begin with.

That being said, [I just recalled, in the non-editorial form of my writing as linear establishment, history would attest]: interestingly, (earlier on, in this text), the statement of "I just received my" was quite intelligently followed by: 

See for yourself:

 

 As you'd observe, let your attention fall upon the livid realization that Gboard, in all it's ubiquity of many libs and resources of development, in to the cutting-edge technologies of contextual DialogFlow, Tensor and Machine Learning, Artificial Intelligence, and more - all part of the host developer's (Google, LLC) significant investment in to establishing transparency in ubiquitous efficacy of user autonomy; ever becoming more [potentially] momentous, in it's small and every day facets of reach in to dynamics far beyond the individual's capability to suppose, and to « correctly » [accurately] intuit and predict the behaviors of others, the goings-on, of the world around us, and at large. 

Imagine that, for many centuries and millennia, thinking back on the topics of scrying, Inquisition, tea-leaf cadtings, fortune telling, and prophecies - these are all antiquated quasi-and-semiologically based interpretive fields of pursuit. 

These days, which we live in, technology subverts the unknown, through nurturing intelligence, establishing context and basis in people's lives, and in and of their formative establishment of relationships and social dynamics across a vast remote spectroscopy global endeavor. The linearity of individuality in contextually autonomy, per se, is such that could, ostensibly, have had been established, for the observant remote sensing participant, as well as on behalf of the counterpart observant, participant, overseers, authorities; such as this. 

Keeping in mind, that, in particular, in the field of technology, it's simple to acknowledge that there are authorities on various subjects and issues. Some people are simply better at certain things, at the time we find ourselves fraught with a technological existential crisis, that it oftentimes is. 

That being said, to centralize the contexts a bit, in mind:

Bluetooth Low Energy ephemeral identifications of signal broadcasting strength, par relevance of ostensible proximity of a signal gatherer, within the context of passersby and plotted IoT Nearby Connections, Physical Internet, and Beacon technologies - here, relevant, on account of establishing location and proximity data - are capable of synthesizing resonant mock-ups of physical and manufactured devices - simply through the harmonic resonance of matter itself, at inquiry - lately, the vastly relevant topic, as the Coronavirus testing subject is at issue, and as that Google and Apple had determined that their devices could, and would - with the ingenuity, [at scale] of civic and local governments, put to task: of establishing the localized contact tracing app, of which the whitepapers had been released by Google over the past month or two, in digitally published and distributed form. 

Remote sensing and shortwave and frequency-band spectroscopy is the more intelligent explanation for schizotypal madness. The assumption that we are ever truly "ourselves" within the foray of multiple autonomous intelligences is at issue. Conversely, at that, a lack of significant diversity in intelligences, and perspectives, opinions, morals, ethics, for example, is also an issue that comes in to play, when minorities assemble and become activist - violent. 

On one hand, the violence isn't much really the issue. Just as there are superiors and intelligence hiérarchies in tech, just the same - finding a superior of physically violence-force and willingness to commit - such things are primitivities, in the scale and scope of what civic and urban life entail - that people of many various social strata and structural underpinnings exist together, yet the social distancing prescriptive is something that becomes suddenly more frightening, to the peaceful observant of civic culture - for having been primitively violated - for having been bitten, for feeding a needful one, for example, or for being talked up a bit socially unintelligently, by a filthy homeless person, who was perhaps unaware of his detriment upon others, perhaps intentionally depraved and socially demerit, by decidedly marketing that persona, for whatever drives that person. 

What's the point? 

Perhaps many individuals were simply fraught of a multi-faring several dilemmas in life, and "... Who knows?" 

- just what business owners who shuttered their businesses are, or hàd been doing, during the pandemic, and now, in the reopening phases? Many establishments had significantly drawn back their Enterprise's physically indoor locations' accoutrements and offerings to the public, [through looking through the windows, from the sidewalks], and many other establishments partook of their entrepreneurialism spirit in offering marketable and within ordinance boundaries offerings of take out, and delivery, for example. 

It was a mild ecosphere for the modest entrepreneur to venture a new enterprise, for the outside mask vendors, here in Los Angeles. Some people flaunted a spark of social entrepreneurialism, by couturizing their statement and participation in wearing a mask, or face covering; here, of a decorative sort. 

Some people chose not to wear a mask. 

How things turned violent, in so many distributed locales? 

I'd venture that some of these cultures are languishing behind, in societal and civic evolutionary ecospheres, and appreciations of the magnificence of what technology, today, offers us, of aversion from needing to assemble, through establishing things that are marketable and duly just and fair, for an establishment entrepreneur of modest means and of humble intention; yet some things, of a biased identity basis ring clear, in recent interactions I've had. 

"Everybody knows English in this country." 

It's not [quite] how I was raised, so I'm not a biased one, on that contingency. 

I really don't know. 

... « what some people are saying, sometimes » ... 

But when the higher tiers of social and societal and spiritual support mechanisms are thwarted, the contexts of intent, and of affect, are of issue. 

Some people are simply deprecated, at the time we encounter them, as far as the societal standard goes. 

In civic activism, of a disruptive and violent nature - perhaps ignorance and neglect is at hand. These were ones that couldbt have been reached, in time, over here, in Los Angeles, and maybe some of them are simply not invested in a standardized and accommodable American identity, and through such identity - the lifestyles and promises afforded to Americans, which we had grown up learning about in our public schools. 

I'd say that it ought to take more than a physical identity (of a visceral and visible nature) to truly determine the quality and sustainability of a person, as individual, in this day and age. 

People are capable of adjusting and accommodating; of assimilating, and of evolving. Higher modalities of mindset and of acquaintanceship lead to much more fruitful establishment of identity and fortune in life. 

Over time, the violent threats become standoff talk-downs, from the ledge of leaving establishment, and for venturing off in to a sea, or ocean, of unattractive social identity foray; unsustainable, perhaps. 

For me, I remarked on attractiveness. It's one of the formative tenets of the recovery establishment, which, in and of itself, branches off in to the social psychology spheres of relationships, within the perspective of recovery. 

Handing over abuses and violence is quite simple to establish, and primitive; at that. The simple and primitive life is afforded to all creatures, lest we lose the good graces of what technology establishes, as a much finer engineering and scientific endeavor. 

Contributing user analytics to improve web browsing experiences through engaging with advertisers and developers.

Maybe you've noticed it, here and there, at some point, in the past: while browsing the web, a strangely relevant facet of your recent life and goings-on, in the world, are suddenly brought back in to your forefront through an ad banner, from out of the periphery of pursuing web-browsing stuff. 

I've been there. I'd believe that many people could relate. Perhaps, at some point, the accuracy of the advertisement that caught your attention was too much to bear, and you switched your account and advertising opt-in settings for advertisement content and context, and you shut them all off, in a slight panic. 

While the intricacies of just how these things play out, in the world of advertising agencies, and development, I'd say that a more rational perspective is that we live in a world, where engaging with the retail sector has been one of our favored pasttimes, at least, on some occasions. It stands to consider that the retailers appreciate our patronage of their operation, and, like many self-starting entrepreneurs, we'd established some slight nuances of connectivity, just slightly more up, on the threshold of friendliness, as opposed to professionalism, which is expected of retail operations. 

Nowadays, with so many businesses still shuttered, from the public health crisis still abound, it makes me wonder what caused them to perhaps fail, permanently, or what's holding them together, for such a long stretch of the imagination. I had always lived a month-to-month sort of lifestyle, in my entrepeurial endeavors. 

Now, with that I feed the birds, on such a regular basis, keeping in mind that the pigeon is the "homeless person's pet," or so, it goes, I have a keepsake token of opportunity to say that I could see myself doing what I'm doing now, far in to the future, and I'd still have my bird-feeding endeavors as a daily to-do, for my stability's sake, and that I'm doing something that returns fruits to my labors, given that little Mr. Sparrow, of the Grand Park area, has taken a fondness to me, undoubtedly for his family's sake, for recognizing that I'm the one who feeds him the sweet treats, most of the time. He just, earlier in the morning, actually once again visited me. I think he's hanging out on the cellular service delivery antenna. It's a serene little soiree of common fare, out here. Me and the birds. 

In a similar manner, our user identities and facets of our online behavior and habits must be similarly valuable to advertising agencies, who, in this day and age, of a hard sell, for advertisers, facing uncertain economic conditions and social cudtoms, themselves, now coming in to question; particularly in an area such that I live in; yet, with internet data service being patched through, and provided for us, even our autonomy of assuming that we're « somewhere, or other », being put to question. 

My service regularly reports that my location is in Chicago, Illinois, and Texas. I get news articles lobbed at me, from those locations, in many apps and feeds I visit. 

Somehow, though, the relevance of personal and identifying behavior, over time, had become a welcome feature of improving my esteem about my place, in the ecosphere, of the larger identity that my online life turns out to be, and of the richness of the interaction and engagement experiences have been, while observing, here and there, the blunders of people who "just don't care" to compose themselves well, of their outward appearance before others; oftentimes, perhaps - simply a matter of that they just don't realize how unsober they'd become. 

There's several things that are becoming of composure, yet - another facets of modern-day etiquette is that proper sociable consideration for others is typically met with improvements, in life, on many measures, whereas going back to a place of abuse, time and again,with no news as to otherwise, that had developed - is largely quite likely to yield such similar results of abuse, again, inevitably. 

All in all, much of the rough and tumble work of the intricacies of measuring and analyzing bulk swaths of data, had already been carried out, painstakingly, by the scientists and engineers who brought us the internet, and social media - for example, which markets itself towards our desire for rewards, in the form of fulfillment upon expectations. One of the headlines that I came across today, was the old adage - "a failure to plan, is a plan to fail," which becomes a strangely hinged magnet of contingency operators within the mesh of our lives, as various entities wish to market themselves to us, for the sake of fulfilling their own expectations. 

That being said, if you expect poor results, and yet, still maintain the relationship, that's simply a false attachment to courtesy, or for laziness' sake, yet, otherwise known as the Stockholm Syndrome, in psychology - where victims (hostages), rather, over time, tended to - in this historic study - begin to empathize with their captors. I'd say that it were a failing prospect to simply endeavor that there's not simply better people out there, than a person that treats you poorly. In this country (the United States of America), we are given the freedom to leave, while also having the burden of due process, in criminality, to suppose that people are not simply guilty,until proven innocent. 

Given that I hear voices, and many of them, at that, as a person largely of a socially isolated sort, it begs the question, of "should I be narcissistic and grandiose, as a shortcoming?" or believe that damaging the relationship that's establishing itself, from what's developed, out of an overbearing abundance of propriety, incloseness, being that I was made uncomfortable, and with some people, uncommunicative, obviously languishing behind, in the ever-boding ladder of sociable entrepreneurship, that affords itself to the time-honored classics of the bread-winner; the one who brings home the bacon. In this day and age, baser things, such as sexuality, gender, childhood traumas - all of these sorts of things, could potentially simply matter much less, in the perspective of myriads of enterprising endeavors being bestowed upon the one who might simply compose themselves up, as the better man, better woman, the patient child - the sociable little Mr. Sparrow, of the day, for example - these are all simply choices, to the mind's eye, yet when we become arbitrarily uncomfortable, it stands to reason that someone unfamiliar, or uncommon, or even more of an obscurity, in society - I mean, I'm on the bottom scale of sociable endeavors, to a limited perspective. Criminal pettiness attracts itself like the nuclear watershed attracts filth unto water on cloth, for example. It follows a natural pattern, rather than intelligent design, whereas intelligence is happening all the world over. 

Some people simply behave as if "the world is their oyster," yet many people simply fail to reciprocate the oyster, for it's plénitude in seafood gourmet - it is a strong and constant creature, with a closed mind, except as towards survival, as it knows, of life. 

On one hand, it's got an enterprising establishment about it's reputation, yet, in many circumstances, it's simply controversial to suggest so much of oysters, for eating. 

What's the point? 

Criminals generally take and steal from others, as some form of crime, whereas good people make offerings to others. Given one further, an intelligent design, of an iPigeon-made petitude would demand that the offering be ethically and morally sound, and sustainable. Going further up the ladder of the standards in psychology, the social and ecological benefit of the offering ought be good and fruitful, for the betterment of all, and beyond our own reach, as the winds and the waters expanse will flow and churn, unlike the nuclear watershed, which is still and tense, yet calm, over the broad expanse of noisy things, and frequency wavelengths, of disturbance. 

Now, establishing that some things are disturbing one's self could be simply just enough to establish that someone is a criminal, in pursuit of a victim, which it typically seems to be. 

It doesn't take much, for violence to become established, at least on some occasions, out of the fruitulness of having established a good reputation for a sociable endeavor, as the anomaly to the norm. 

Out here, there's several debacles, not only of such, but also of time - the passing of which, is a strange thing to leave, unobserved, or abandoned. I live in the Pacific Daylight Savings Time locality, as a prospective Maps and Timezones Cloud Platform Applications studies and development inquiries enthusiast. Those sorts of things are the types of things that seem to catch my attentions, lately. I simply wonder at what the possibilities are, and then I set out, and endeavor to live out my standard day, to the best of my capability. 

In general, I'd say that our leaders are best spoken for, when it's established that there's been some nuance of professionalism upon persona that's been established, somehow - of what could possibly be surmised about a person, based on what's offered. Sometimes, it takes a lot of words to establish a suitable particular position, in things, whereas some things, in leadership roles, just seem to be compelling, whereas true leaders train the most, in several manifest facets of the word - in and of themselves, and for others, the same, or less. But for someone who asks too much of what's reasonably accommodable of themselves, it's difficult, on the lower levels of achievement-capability, to truly appreciate much. 

Now, ... Even "now," though. It's a completely different topic, from person, to person, except that many people simply establish the standards of a day, as the day goes by, and as far as days go, and come again. 

I felt like, if I hadn't established some notions of that people had somehow ruined their reputations, for standing against personal freedoms, in life, it would suppose that this entire COVID-19 thing is largely well understood, by and large, for what it might mean, for other people. Other people have been having a huge roil about it, somewhat facetiously; people had gotten away with a lot of garbage behavior, both online, and off - some people planned out criminal activities and victim profiling and targeting, out in society. 

One person's voice said, though, that she hadn't seen anyone "dying," and news reports would affirm that many people who had been reported to have had the coronavirus disease, and died - had comorbid illnesses, on top of coronavirus - to suppose that they had perhaps been targets of some form of nuclear watershed abandonment, neglect, or that they had simply been "nasty" people, whereas I strive to have little of that, as for myself. Even better if I could have none. 

Tobacco, though, and I'll have some, regularly. Feeding the birds, and I'll go to the park. Some other things, I'll simply just not understand, for the moment, and I'd have to leave it, at that.

Fleeing the iPigeon nest of home, once again.

One of my inherited and inlaid tenets of a sound psychology in the context of a home as nurturing environment hinges upon the simple assertion of that individuals deserve to be treated with kindness,  understanding, and respect towards their internal stability and trust capacity for themselves to thrive,  as internalized beings of their own volition and personal fortitude, as well as for the trust to rely well upon others, given the grace of a kind and gentle home nurturing environment. 

I'm of the belief that there is, typically,  no argumentative basis,  upon being formed and expressed,  out of anger,  that could have not been resolved better through simple patience, communication, and kindness.  I recently fled home,  after being significantly berated and yelled at by my sober living home / transitional housing manager. He pulled out significantly faulty and self-righteous claims over me,  and what had been going on with what he saw as faults of myself,  for not cleaning my bed,  and for letting my room and living space come slightly disorganized. 

He made claims of impossibility,  as I had received them - such as that he accused me of not having bought groceries for the place,  whatsoever.  Patently and simply not true.  This stance of a claim over what the truth of the matter was, given that I had been purchasing groceries for the place - left me with the disappointments I'd experienced as a child,  growing up,  and knowing well enough,  what appropriate treatment would look like,  but rather that anger and violence would, instead,  ensue out of the conflict that had developed,  of a child and caretaker (parent) dynamic, which I felt was a sorely wrought wound to uncover,  on the part of the housing manager,  with me as a client.  

That being said,  I went out in to the world, and failed at understanding the dangers that ensued,  as a result of expressing my life,  through my mobile devices,  whereas that my iPad Mini had become an object of targeted desire,  and I discovered it lost,  after finally sleeping,  for having been up for a week.

I woke up,  the next morning - fraught with the trauma of a dramatic complexity of one of Dante's infernal layers of Hell,  yet uniquely my own,  in the context of my own secret and subliminal fears.  

For some reason, beyond conceivable means of understanding,  I could not intuit where I ought to set out,  upon waking - for the sake of finding my way home.  I'd been imbued with the sense that I lived at Apple Computer headquarters,  of which there was a local establishment,  thereof,  in the South Park, DTLA area.  Somehow,  the context and reality of home had been significantly at issue, with the looming architecture,  and reflective glass doors seeming to suggest that there was an identity unknown, and exclusive,  perhaps,  of the institutional use of said architectural design.  

A Trojan Horse cryptic riddle had fully embedded itself,  of my vulnerable station in life,  having been woken up,  of the daylight,  whereas I desperately required significantly more sleep,  and I had been awake in to the early morning hours, posed with matters of ethics and loving-kindness towards others at issue,  for me,  as a challenge to follow up on,  in order of that I maintain my best,  most proper, and respectable self-image within the context of critical analysis of my Scientological worth,  as that fate and my fortunes would recall,  throughout life. More than that,  the micro-climates and gravitational harmonic suspension of stable barometer had been notably upset,  even during the daytime,  leading up to this night, finally ended with sleep. Many automotive vehicles had been notably put to their last legs,  for showing up in my walking vicinities,  that I noticed of them. The integrity of the tires and body suspension, grinding, and squealing, of the weight collapsing upon itself.  It happened to be the Ides of March. The moon, high overhead,  as that it were visible; and hot on this day, that of the weather.  

My personal shopping cart also fell subject to detriment,  as it broke upon itself,  the spokes,  and the axles.  I carried a heavy load of recyclable materials,  as I traveled to and from the recycling center, although I did make it back in to town,  and safe,  well enough,  to purchase another cart. 

I took the loss of my iPad Mini with grace,  having been much of the constitution of speaking on positive reinforcement psychology and well-being,  as well as of Christian virtues and tribulations, and of faith, in deeds,  words, and acts.  The stages of loss were contexts in my mind - very familiar.  

Thankfully, although posed with the context of coming to terms with my loss of material goods,  I had good graces,  aside from the superficiality of being attached,  and emotionally volatile,  as an alternative perspective that could have, I'd have taken on,  otherwise,  given a less stable foundation of support and expectations on me,  being that I'd been linearly conscious and attentive to the higher powers of authority and oversight, over the span of an entire week - my station in life,  one of consequence to live out,  for obviously best circumstances that could conceivably be offered me,  given that my attitudes and personal statements,  and the soundness, thereof,  not impinge upon common expectations and establishments of decency,  of which there was, thankfully, richly well supported,  and hours to come,  and had passed,  of the support of higher intelligence,  and of the rebuke of depravities; we were strong,  together.  

The iPad Mini,  all in all,  would be seen to have been ephemeral,  and a childish thing to publicly bereave. I packed up,  and moved on,  and slept for the days that ensued, until now. 

  

Extended-beyond common wherewithal of commonly held beliefs-given-autonomy

An obscure underpinning of the somehow sure-as towards yet as-of looked-up-as-GTD check done ✅ task management wherewithal, given the valid moment of curiosity check via Google search lookup - beyond being sure, as for myself, that I should trust the sure-as-had-been established through obscure means of commit-stated belief, in and of my own discernment, for whatever as-of-yet unknown significance of such surety; 

« On some night » of weeks leading up to this date, I made it a point to simply look up my self-held belief that I live in zip code 90033, as opposed to the mailing address assertion, (somewhat paranoia battery challenge diagnostic trifle) of where, how and why 90033 would be a more significantly established belief, rather than the written and viable commonly-held belief that the mailing address zip code is the more suitably unquestionable; for all to consider; things, as such as had been brought up to answer for, as towards a need to discern: why I would choose the obscure etiology zip code as held established belief « 90033 » versus the mailing address zip code.

The search led to a various curiosities pursuit and discovery of international standards numerical coding as cardinal concomitant recursive-self recombinant internationally held institutional standards as constituently special, as towards the place-time-means-purpose as-reduction-of-needs-to-explain beyond common logic decryption and all valid psychological fortitude of individualistic means to consider; apparently 💁🏻‍♂️. 

Apparently this was the hidden universe of such things as unique per item bar codes that are particular to the unique identifier and operational expected delivery of autonomous international standards and measures. A fair parable of the forensic profiling mock-up trifle nomenclature aficionado water-cooler morning débriefing beyond coffee organizational fanboy imagination talk-up routine, of people who show up to work as an anything valid demographic, as the recent vast assertions crowd would assert themselves. Serious fluff was trite, to consider: as valid meaty burger to a fuckboy tech-xecutive c-suite stated-as Los Angeles native standard aficionado stereotypical lifestyle fuckboytas-tastic straight faced suitably professional-assertive prior-to-DSM-IV as carbon-dated prescription « supposedly validly; as unspeakable unthought-of stuff to discuss, for concomitant demographic constituents - apparently; particularly on account of drug abuse, of all things - given a dishonest and at minimum: disingenuous disposition « how could you » slight seething resort to constituent « unheard of trifles, unimaginable by identities-as demographically slight as to consider as such » real fluff, serious fluff; but not unslight trifling unsuch strange forays into heretofore discourse, of any as such I’d been accustomed to, for all the valid ways in and of around it; the French did the Canadien Quebec territory a valid abute reputation, what could possibly be worse or better than that take on life? -from a Los Angeles native concessions fanboy cla cla cla Classic LA fanboy stereotypes to live down aficionado personas trifle constituent mock-up coffee-table leisure discourse of post-mornings, past days-on-end, novel calendar mockups talkup job fuck stances all new, bold as the Yukon, and all in between, says a Los Angeles fuckboy t’as tastic cla cla cla cla Classic fresh one, guy or girl, « perhaps ». Valid for blog publication garbage minds endless fuckjob find-had-you joyful aficionados establishment of an assertive American finery, this being the furthest coast of the textbook next-frontiersmen: now, what have you left to conquer?  Coffee shop writer identity text-stated broadcast of a fresh roast bold offering of some considerable horse-racing aficionado husbandry breed? They say, « we tell every coffee shop bum power-squat athleisure jaunted beyond coffee walk up that every bum from all over has the same story abute themselves, at some point in life, but that’s obv. unlikely an emphatically concessions-receivables dépt. email-to: « now, considerably: some Top Level Domains further aficionado developer enterprise discourse, for a real shitty burger meat-made ordeal, now coffee-shops as leisure status identity fuckjobs proliferate identity-valid destinations; that’s supposedly via Seattle’s take on stuff. The LA valid native fuckboy tastastic identity, though, is a serious national had-to support group demographic, untrifling slight aficionados establishment on steam tap like a valid cultured aesthetic food alternative, for even as-yet liquids-consumption considerably beverage and food establishment show-up: its the Norman Rockwell valid-stance standing long-lasting fuck fuckbiytastastic cla cla cla cla Classic: olde English 800 malt liquor discourse: from an outsider’s imagination, perhaps, ... ‘whatever.’ This one’s for coffee-shop writer valid mock-up how-bout-you « bute », as French Canadian Quebec locality trifle seething romantic trifle personality concession, for dating potential, « perhaps ». 

The jibs fidgeting concession to personality sleights shows that the offhanded mock-up jibs, considerably trite personality concession sleight screen-recording, after aesthetics scrum check, second glance; could it be... ?

🧐🤳🏼

Photo-worthy scrum codification aesthetics jibs of personality « maintain » status composure - for a concessions-identity lived-down supposedly lifetime attainment status: beyond jaunted bum demographic; give or take grammatical dash hyphen astute etsy precision, but wait, they say every bum does it this finery? Obviously needs to distinction status male contest destination of valid pursuit. 

But a pigeons-finery-feeding establishment institute-task-GTD check status check waffles establishment? That surely beats out any waffles and poultry establishment slight recent mass shooting something missed-it news fakery fluff job of dendrites-post-serious fluff maidenhead arc-narrative-director’s seat: fuckboy tastastic: cla cla cla cla Classic: looks; you, bams. Valid iconic fluff job pursuits, all everyone did that but this one, the next one. That sort of Los Angeles all-France-to-consider: et cie finery by serious fluff as-yet; unexpected: all variants fuckboy-tastastic, common trifle. 

But holding the validly prepped iPigeon iPad:

A pretty serious jaunted aficionado self-sustainable civic-by-graces obstinate blessed identity: the as-stated publicly available bum depravities-standard-asserted validity to jaunt trifling aesthetic scrum fletch aficionado gutter check search deep foray into checking outdoors corners for precious discarded things: such a trifling Freudian identity fulfillment, how cirque du soleil: iPigeons on Broadway « abute town » - maybe... that was the third knocker concomitant stand-off trifling French, at last, finally - third round such trifling jaunted breadcrumbs breadcrumbs wings wings beak beak beak animal-trained visualizations-ostensible meat eaters, early morning appetite shown-up type: to feed the pigeons, again, finally. That’s serious fluff, non-valid grammatical disputes-to discover, undoubtedly. This one comes with a jibs-fidgeting data-coding scrum-fletch aficionado vast gamma-radians manifold UI obstinate iOS system-wide standards attainment- with accessibility standards athleisure constraints, on tryna act actually had have to discuss as originally olde 800 English 1066 malt liquor, but this one: validly allergic to alcohol. What could only be done? Only post-childhood traumatic émergent identity Freud psychologies I’d be placed best to validly suit me; it’s all sorts of awkward identities to fluff pigeons abute, like a Frenchman, imaginably; suiting up for a millennial ancillary imaginable outpost of establishing sister-city post-location azimuth wherewithal, and notably: Los Angeles at Temple, an ordinance 00-100 cross perpendicular X-Y meeting place of the civic center, as I’d taken a fancy as towards in my Instagram profile @jay.ammon, as one of my first ventures into social media marketing web audience establishment, as a post-incarceration new-hopeful inductee, back into the free-society lifestyle, committed as a dedicated Christian man and a creative professional job path outlook that I had taken on; it’s obviously a tragic loss of celebration mood, to consider that all of that valid intention, for a stated criminal profile type, and mental health demographic, to be in my position, short-handed, and some people: stopped caring about drug-abstinent minds to portray of themselves, of anything else, for definite out of boundaries psychologie