The put-off slight home exhibition, of the iPigeon.institute art effects and fragrance-making collection: the stand-off days.

 Days and night, on end. 

No regard, whatsoever, for typical formalities, I’m becoming aware of, of the casual “village idiot” for the crumbs and knickknacks offer of playing around in my closet; this notion-deprecation had instilled itself as permeably “aught could be” more respectable, of a generalized notion, in that the general public might also appreciate patronizing the art collection and collected documents and transcripts of the early days of establishment of my iPigeon.institute pigeon-feeding enterprise, of a story based upon a travails anecdote of a guy who “made it work” in Los Angeles, through dedicating time to taking care of others (the pigeons), while making his (or her) way out of homelessness, and the pitfalls and shortcomings incurred, in establishing sociable currency and relevance, amongst the common people, and their good graces, in the land of fables, of greater Los Angeles, turn of the 3rd millennium. 

Yesterday ended up being a strange standoff kind of day, where I was stuck on pwsshh… fwipp - smashhhhing people with the iPad Pro, busy with it sort of thing that I’d established, while the stranger next door was completely keeping to himself, sort of thing, although I must say, of on pissless shift he must have been pulling, of some sort. There was this notion of a constant threat, of my room’s security being defiled, on consequence of enforcing an of on pissless - the identity and embodiment, thereof - the guy. It’s typically mostly always a guy, except that the bwipsies eccentric girl had murmured some unintelligible notions, of that she finds herself cute, and then - some other stuff, of an intimation of that there’s something that needs to be done out somewhere else, such as at some place that I couldn’t really hear her say, as her defining traits. I figured that she just can’t compose herself as formatively congenial enough, of an impetuous sub-superficial need to be shameless and un-humble towards me; I figure it’s because she’s discovered things about me online, and she doesn’t care to admit it. She’s never give, me her name. She’s kind of borderline like that, and she was framed, towards me, recently, of that she had shown up to play with my fragrance ingredients collections, as the village idiot, for the crumbs and knickknacks notion that I had flouted, although these people constantly flout the rules as dismissible, of that there be some tacit agreement and supervision involved in the village idiot indulging themselves around aerosol-industry sort of slight manufacturing environment, that it is. 

Could they possibly seem just simply better, for skirting the premise of speaking to me about it, whatsoever, for … I dunno. I just see worse of them, and for that matter, it’s not everyone who appears to have been framed in this particular manner, leverages upon this fragrance ingredients thing. It implies  a gross notion of childishness and entitlement, and worser things tend to come snowballing out of that establishment, quite easily.

Sweating it out, after having been a stark schizotypal paranoid one, in a mid-day’s hot water and medicinal oils-infused bath tub.

Top cute romantic (and 🐣 ‘cheep!’ iPigeon Valentine’s Day outings.

For those who are date-able for this Valentine’s Day’s wringing-out of the wheat from the chaff, we look upon notions of romance and ‘what-if?’ from the outside. It’s seething content. It ought be addressed.

A cutesy heartsy-bwippsies Valentine’s Day ‘Becture,’ if I might say so.

Being that I cover lifestyle and tech in this blog, I figure I’d carve my place out, as a stated romantic, in that such notions just [fwiff] get passed along to me, since I travail some of the cool pedestrian locales, see some talk-worthy spots, get some good golden hour (or less-than) photos of such some spots that I feel like we’re great moments, back when I travailed these spots and found them worthy of flopping down, perhaps, and enjoying the scenery and locale, rather than that I continued on, the unending-athleisure-trek for resources and food, as a [real] bum of the Los Angeles [CA, USA] and surrounding areas. 

Here’s one spot that I 

. . . okay. 

The concept...

would be that this is some sort of romantic walk, through some pedestrian districts, and I’ll update this blog, leading up to the big ol’ Valentine’s Day 2020, just in case - people who read this are [some of them] concurrently [/< _ < \] (despite...) yet, also, why not? [for reals] - date-able and matched lovebirds (or something like that). My thing is that I’m hopelessly literate and publishing blogs, and women might [somewhat] find me attractive, but then I’d be such a topic of contention, imaginably, to some notion of people who do contentious topic life. 

Like this ⬆️ staircase, somewhat by the border of where Sunset Boulevard of Echo Park becomes Silverlake. It’s across from the Micheltorena Street School, (I believe), and I haven’t been up the stairs, to venture and see where it goes to, although it’s obviously a beautifully romantic spot, nice and private, and it’s a perfect segway into adventure, on a date. 

Note that I only advocate heterosexual dating, under the strictest of terms. I’m a bit more mature, in some ‘growing up’ aspects, as I’d consider things, but I also have to contend with un-wieldly bold new engagement guys who think that they have to check me out, something like they’re bold and new, some sort of profession, non-official, no-regalia, they like my outfit, [kinda thing]. 

anyways, 💁  

I’ll work that out at some point...

But then, you go somewhere romantic, like Sunset Nursery.

This is a perfect spot to show a date your romantic side, like you’re developing a memento token item of your affection, fondness, and sustainability, as a date-worthy person.

Continuing onwards, and presuming you started the date in the late morning, or early afternoon-ish (otherwise, it won’t work. This plan), continue up Sunset Blvd. You’ll pass by the Scientology Media Productions Center, where you can display your worldliness to your date, and suggest a future outing to the Scientology Center, for a dual personality reading, or something. 

Then, I’d suggest making your way up Sunset, even further, to the Metro Station, on Vermont. There’s fast food, and a Vons, along the way. 

From here, you have variable choices, for picturesque outings. One would be to stop at the Beverly | Vermont Station and trek down Vermont. My suggestion is to frame yourself as a backpacking vagabond persona, and pack yourselves a sit-down park life thing, over (and after making a slight detour, back down Beverly, towards DTLA, to Temple, at the junction of Silverlake at Virgil (I do this one for the Recycling Center there,, right when I take the junction to Temple - you can say that your old buddy who does recycling showed you this route, absent of actually admitting that you read my blog). 

Down several blocks, maybe a couple of miles, or so, of picturesque boulevard surroundings, you’ll come across the edge of Echo Park, again, (down Temple), where there are featured: some tennis courts. There will almost certainly be people playing tennis, there, amidst a nice, nearly dusk-y (almost golden hour - for photography) backdrop, featuring a beautiful skyline of high-rise buildings of DTLA.

My recommendation is to check out the lawn by the freeway - I camped out here, for a few days, once, and it proved to be a peaceful and serene setting. No drama or flex, whatsoever. There’s a nice scenery walkway, behind the tennis ball courts, where it gets a bit narrow, (a bit scary, perhaps), and a guy could secure his place as the bold adventurer / caretaker of the topic issue at hand, by nudging up close to his loved one. Up at the top of the walkway, there are (used-to-be) open restrooms, [theres one bum there, but no harm, I’m sure - he has a palm-frond encampment, and he might not be present]. But the view, at the appropriate timing, is illustrious and beautiful. The tennis players offer a nice, human novelty of distraction and inertia that throws some variety into the day’s end. 

Up at the top of the walkway. Not far - just past the tennis ball courts.

 Spend as long as you care to, here at the park. But for the sake of timing (and it might be cold, make sure you pack multiple layers of sweaters), you’ll want to make it back over to the bustling districts of the civic center, in DTLA. Perhaps you’ll stop by the Music Center and the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, by night, where there are several lighted fountains to check out and gloss over. 

Grand Park will be featuring an event on Valentine’s Day, as well.

Well, that’s the end of this journey’s option. Check back on this post for more future outings, leading up to Valentine’s Day, 2020. 

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?