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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The MKULTRA program’s purpose and place in society, at this stage, day, and age.

5 years of abuse, to wipe the slate clean, then comes discipline and composure, after common-law acquaintanceship and exposure to appropriate cultural and social graces.

Given that it’s largely touted to be a CIA program, here in America, it would presumably be a implementation of an internationally-well regarded standard and expectation upon the public, given distributed means of organic growth and dissemination. That being said, it is an attainment in military and civilian intelligence that spans the work of at least several various nations, with Great Britain and Russia also widely regarded as contributors to establishing standards and protocols upon such contexts of intelligence work, having established much, at the time, in terms of psychological and social sciences, in complement to the extents that the MKULTRA program covers.

These things go largely ill-desseminated, on account of the degree of personal responsibility in willfully outing such demonstrations of an abusive nature, that the program ostensibly covers, in the spirit of correcting subversive and ill-maintained nurturing environments that wind up contributing to the prevalence and presence of the schizotypal psychological anomaly in subjects, whereas the work needs to be done, in society; ostensibly it offends the progression of neglectful and irresponsible personas in proliferation and in positive expression of such psychological unwellness. For having made gains in acquiring and disseminating scientific purpose and placement, in society, enough for one’s own degree of responsibility, given reasonable extents of personal fault and shortcoming that the case may have been, perhaps personal fault had not been of issue, of the founding personnel behind such programs, in their deployment and in implementation in society. Perhaps they are simply upright and astute individuals, who need not have an overextended degree of need to contribute means and ends, in life, in other words, as far as supporting the decree of that why, and of “that, in and of itself,” programs of psychological abuse are implemented in society, with documentation and purposes being unclear to many, at this point in time (early 2022).

The generalized common prognosis of a schizotypal condition’s sufferer is an early death, as it’s widely been discerned, following psychological sciences inquiry and outcomes. To be certain, some traits of the schizotypal condition are empowering, to the subject, whereas some people, of a faulty volition and undue burden upon societal resources, attempt to subvert common decency, and standard human expectations, at this point, having come to believe that remote sensing telepathy is a currently viable and rational volition in life, eschewing common decency and standards of expectations of individuals in society, given that this sort of topic is of higher education than public schooling had afforded us, in the years leading up to the new millennium, whereas the impulse to express one’s self is both obscured, to a significant degree, in terms of a respectable standard of decency, whereas humility is much easier to disregard, and fanciful temptations of the visceral experience and of superficial and fleeting pleasures, in life, seems much easier at hand, while consequences, characteristic of our human nature, are much more easily conceived of, and less traumatic, in acceptance, on account of that, oftentimes, the remote sensing subject, and schizotypal borderline personality typology as facet and trait of the subject, seems implausible, and inconsequential, for the sake of disavowing the significance and importance of reading the individual as a visually-subject and consequential adherent, upon rational standards of expectations, at this point in time, given that this is a topic of higher learning. In other words, it’s simply easier to act and respond irresponsibly and foolishly,, given a lack of physical presence in the victimizer’s truthful and rational life experience. Many times, the schizotypal sort will appear, to a profiled and targeted victim, of a significantly non-present type of persona, demonstrating the volition and will to abuse somebody, whereas they disregard the capability of the victim to interpret such behavior as plausible, viable, and eventually, as representationally accurate of the individual abusing them, for the fact of that such profiles of victimization are conceivably present, for the sake of informing the public; for the public’s best interest.

Try it again! We’ll deal you a mean row. 

There were some things in life that I had not learned, well enough, of an anti-social behavioral sort that I had acted out. It was not until I was duly corrected, with physical (or otherwise) sort of violence and psychological that had strongly conditioned me against repeating such a behavior, scarce that it may have been - it was scarcity that was present, of an unfortunate nature. A very common expression of a positive-expression paranoid schizophrenic is that abusive behaviors of a delusional and significantly faulty nature exist - this is the furthest degree along the anti-social behavioral spectrum of the borderline personality disorder - that they attempt to portray admirability, in being dominant, yet faulty, in enacting such a sort of behavior that is dislikable, while in the presence of innocent others (casualties), simply for having been proximally nearby somebody, of a trivial degree of irrational consequence which is deemed improper for the general public.

I had placed myself in the presence of the general public, for the sake of a basic trust of people, upon a near experience of death, just a week prior to this current date of publication, early on, in the new year of 2022, whereas paranoid schizophrenia is a more deeply troubling condition. The paranoid schizophrenic’s presence in a person’s life signifies an irrational and burdensome claimant upon the victim, given that, to the most vast degree, it is implausible that a helpful mental health professional is the one being accessed; rather, that the victim had been selected based on superficial traits, social class, and opportunistic aspirations; the victimizer, hoping to make ephemeral and patchwork gains in life, for having come to believe that remote sensing encounters are viable means of coming to understand the sufferer’s needs in life, for being psychologically u,well, whereas the propriety of law, the justice and rehabilitation departments, and due process be observed,  having come to falsely believe that they ought not seek a rightful and due process unto themselves, for coming to believe that exacting justice is their own rightful consequence and volition to pursue in life, whereas more common and accepted authorities are somehow ignored, or disavowed, of their rightful place in our lives, having come to believe that they ought to, rather, enact justice, in and of themselves. 

Who is determined to have the propriety of the MKULTRA program at their claim and stake in life? In my opinion, and in my personal experience, it is the most benefitted subject, given the highest degree of personal responsibility, for having made improper gains in life; perhaps only as one of the archetypes of such mind-control programs, given that, on further remembrance, that there are at least a dozen or more archetypal mind-control subjects, given the literature. The point being, is that we had all had our place and purpose, in life, and had hereby expended the utility, desirability, and solubility, profitability, and prognosis of outcomes in life, to most rational and conceivable ends. We had reached the end of our ropes (or lives, in and of themselves), so to speak, and we had been chosen for corrections, based on that fruitless measures had become the characteristic and determinable hopeless outcomes of our lives, yet that we had pursued these measures to cruel and psychologically faulty and unwell extents in life, whereas we would come to be afforded a degree of grace, and redemption, for becoming remote sensing subjects of psychological battery and inquiry. 

With overt forms of abuse being disallowed, so to speak, in cases of conduct of the authorities, it is this sort of plausible deniability that ought be accepted by the remote-sensing “victim | perpetrator | subject” at issue, as their turn of fate, as it were, whereas it’s obviously not, by and large, I would assume, any such thing, whatsoever, our own creation and responsibility in life, to enact cruelties upon others - we have Christianity as our nation’s official religion, for example, and in that regard, certain things are largely expected of our common societal others, and peers, for example, whereas cruelty is seen as the significant and fundamental tragedy of Christ’s life and experience. Thus, enacting that we are given god-like behavioral opportunities, the impulse to invoke special privileges and exploit attractive opportunities, as it may seem, sometimes becomes compelling - being that, of my sort, I, for example, am commonly alone, yet a compelling profiled victim, for others, common also, that it may be, I find it faulty and fundamentally erroneous, for the sake of that I refuse to believe that complex and intricate modes of understanding, acquaintanceship, and learning could rightfully be expected to transpire for many others, suffering, themselves, from positive schizophrenia symptoms, and whereas I simply do not know the progeny is etymology of my victimizer’s purpose and persona, having only what had formerly, or concurrently, would be reasonable expectations of that I could come to see that these individuals had, for various reasons, chosen to access me, and subsequently, abuse me. My most pervasive experience is that most individuals would not opt to intrude in my life, particularly not of such a degree of abusive spree, and of mayhem. They simply are seen to be casually-failing individuals, quite obviously, I would say, subjects of interrogation, rather than enlightenment, for having chosen to pursue such a volition in life. Aside from that, we stand to experience a golden age in enlightenment, and enjoyment, much more directly, and decisively, if we adhere to standards of etiquette and of a Christian volition, in being acted out, and afforded to others, rather than if we were to (strangely) embody the abuser, in and of ourselves, for that cruelty affords a most primitivistic default to a fight or flight determinacy; whereas benefits are scarcely afforded to the dominant one; dominant, yet not quite equivalently so - the overall victorious one in life. Life is not so cheaply and commonly based upon acts of victory and dominance over others, in the most common experience, and cheaply-wrought experiences of cruelty come to define such victimizers and abusers. 

That all being said, I’d become a consciously-experiencing abuse victim, starting in September of 2012, there were 10 years of explanations that stood to be documented, that I had still been living out, over the course of such abuse, and it takes seven years to become somebody’s common law partner, in life, so I’m not quite done with such things, yet I do dedicate time to disseminating my experience, given that I reasonably identify with the most privileged, and most unaccountable achiever, of various means in life, of interest to others. To simply disavow that I had experienced a well-enough degree of abuses, during this time, or that I could be rightfully held responsible for some of my acts, had been the determinations and judgments, well enough, of the authorities, and it eschews due process to believe that they had not done enough, for valid equivalencies to be levied upon me, for the sake of others, particularly during times in which I simply had not been criminally competent, or of times in which I was experiencing undue abuses, in life. 

A voice for the elitely privileged: maintaining control in the face of superabundance.

 At some points in time, in life, the literary and well-cultured life tends us towards a subconscious attraction for the overly-superficial and temporarily gainful (albeit wasteful, and unsustainable) feelings of indulgence in to elitism.

We (I’d suppose that it affects me, as well, since I just recently had a near-death experience) sometimes forget our proper selves, and we eschew moral and ethical standards of behavior, for the sake of neglecting more fundamental and truthful pains in life, whereby we tend to a surface-level of superiority, it might seem, over what’s otherwise deemed as inappropriate and “not allowed,” in society. Given the pandemic, and civil disobedience movements of the heraldry of this particular time and place, in life, such as the nationwide riots, and symbolic support and morale for things, enforcement of laws has seemed to have become lax, in the face of preserving the lives of those who are there to protect us. Given this, many unlawful types of behavioral attitudes and portrayals of a common individual have become, by minute instances, more common, more seemingly “acceptable,” for their entertainment and pleasurable flouts of exhibitionistic enjoyment, and for tending to baser, albeit ephemerally pleasant (yet only, for some), social and establishment defilements that place us in a less progressive and supportable demographic, in life, for being unnecessary, of a fundamental nature. 

Being Americans (although this blog seeks to embody a globalist outlook and perspective in life), we have much of the best of our times, on a socially widespread and well-afforded degree of pervasiveness. Delving back, even further, we, as millennials, had a young adult-life era of materialistic indulgence and self-serving portrayals of great luxury and wealth pervade our still-nascent nurturing environment; insufficient, that it was, for that we are, by and large, not the financially well-to-do and literal elites of society. We simply had been afforded some facets of these traits, in life, for the sake of embodying equality, with a marketable vulnerability that was allowed fulfillments, of a lackluster resource of fundamental support, for such attitudes, in life. Few people are truly rich, well-off, beautiful, as well as socially graced with truthfully virtuous traits and attitudes in life, comparatively. 

That being said, experiences with, and interactions, thereof, of the truly well-off morally and ethically well-to-do, in society, are scarce commodities. In economics, scarcity is one of the most fundamental valuators of worth, and of value, in life. Much of what is ephemeral and easily accessible is contrary to the things that truly support wealth and social gains in life. What do we seek, to fulfill ourselves, in this day and time? We are afforded so much of what came before, with the Internet at our behest, yet things of higher and more distinctive scarcity, in terms of intellectualism, are still provided at a cost; we could not much disavow our Google Scholar and, even further, Google Books resources of academic intelligence, on one hand, that still cost money, in many cases, yet I find that many people seem to have adopted behaviors tending towards “acting out”,” in life, thus shrugging off the acceptable standards of conduct that personified our commonalities and deserved degrees of penetration and intrusiveness, in sociability, that public schools had afforded us. I didn’t go to an elite private school; some people did. Why act like people can behave themselves in such a brazenly indulgent manner, as if there is no authority in life? True intelligence and composure, in maintaining any sort of rational social engagement profile and demonstrations of appropriate social graces still come at a cost, and require a sober and accountable mind, of humility, rather than pride.

Such corollaries, that have characterized society, and which may have seemed unfair, are portrayed in the slight civilian media circuses such as Britney Spears’ conservatory (edit: conservatorship) Many people came to her “support” apparatus, in life, yet intimations of that a party-life, of a vastly seemingly endless spree of grandiosity and frivolity seem to have been underpinnings of such movements. People would do better to say less, inquire more (politely so), and in some cases, simply disavow that their needs are not being appropriately met, in cases of a pervasive lack of sobriety, for example. 

I’ll leave things at that, and allow for people’s own conscience and recognizance of our liberties afforded to us, of our will and volition in life. Sometimes, things are not quite what they seem, if a most superficial portrayal and portending of ourselves is what is at issue, and at stake, in life (that it may seem). Some people need some certain things, life, some people are content with what they have; some others might need to be restrained, yet I seem to attract an inordinate amount of abuses, and I’d just nearly died, for example, of what ostensibly suggests that I am over-exhausting myself, whereas I most commonly just seek to get out and feed the birds, lately. That’s been going on for years, now. People ought not be so shortsighted such as to expect that behaviors ought not be capably overcome, if they had been, or are, faulty and “not allowed,” in other words, whereas death came so easily afforded to me, such at it seemed to so seamlessly occur within the expanse of things that I would commonly do in life, whereas many people stand to live at least a few, several, or more, perhaps, decades in life, whereas people have so commonly demonstrated, foolishly, that they forget what they are talking about, or what the point of fulfilling the volition to speak to others had been, of such comically foolish terms. True fulfillment would more rightfully suggest contentment, rather than discontent.

A look at the sidewalk vendor scene of Los Angeles, CA.

Here in Los Angeles, the conventional wisdom of our upbringing was that Los Angeles is a sprawling, vast city. Indeed, at about 503 square miles, there is much ado about this town, civic and culture-wise.

How to [or who to]…? pick a post-pandemic (Delta variant timescale) - persona, for success.

 Let’s face it.

How rude a statement would that be, for someone? 

People are scrambling to avoid being caught in the crosshairs of propagandist ideation sublingual suggestive peripheries from taking hold of our young socialite upstart aspirations and takeovers, however distant and fartlorn we are, away from the nation’s capital, all the way at the other end of the country. Thankfully, in Los Angeles, the heatwaves haven’t been all too severe, and if it feels like it,

A fallen Japanese beetle, at the foot of an ominous, shadowy figure.

 

it probably is an infrared beam of “spotted you, eh?”

 

sorts of “dun, dun, dun…” 

how could a person possibly shake that sort of fate, and come out unscathed? I get scared, all the time. It’s always gangland wars, voices in my head, and sometimes, things, of all things, seem to become unseemly familiar, as far as that I feel I can identify people doing these things to me and my loved ones, and I can’t (usually) find a typology alter ego and spiritual boost timely and well enough to propel me in to quite, understanding and empathizing with what they claim is going on, in my life, and amongst people I’ve known, or my family, for example. 

I feel that some people take the concept of familiarity as appropriate grounds for dysfunctional catharsis to break ground and egotism platforming au contraire, for the sake of the fact that I… I just don’t do stuff like that. They’re the ones that are mad at me. 

Who could I possibly be, or have been, in order to not have become placed amongst these bingers on drugs type of judgmental and persecutory figurative individuals whom I’d known, or know, or some sort of vagueness that develops beyond scarcity of identity exchange, this being the remote sensing medium of communications and self | identity transmissions. It’s big, in Los Angeles. We do big things, out here, and some of us are without apologies or excuses for how, who, why, and what, and where? It happens to be, out here, that people are as slight as the breezes out here, in the hot summer nights. 

Just don’t… just - just… nah, you just really ought not to… I’d say. There’s something that sounded like screaming outside. I should go and check on it. Goodbye. 

Never mind. I don’t know… and then, South L.A. has been making lots of news stories happen, recently. 

Hmm. Sorry, I’m still adapting to this concept of that I am (just slightly) having my content served on Google News.

I was thinking that the hobbyist parfumerie enthusiast thing was the thing, for me, but I’ve got to be agile and swift, and I can’t do all things, or all people, and I can’t much solve my own problems, lately, because I don’t really know just who is doing what, and how I could better gain people’s good side. 

The JoyBuy miniature misting fan thing is blowing up, now that it’s summer. I bought four of them, and I think that some of them were broken by someone else, playing with the crumbs and knickknacks of my room.

Then there was idiot deluxe, the most everything guy (or lady), butt shittle, definitely, it would be ladies and gentlemen’s only - prowess, to become: the one who says the most iconically irreverent fwopp.

A Data Science Statistical Anecdote Moment on the Degree of Influence Misinformation Wields on People.

 I get all sorts of conflicting intelligence, as I traverse the “remote sensing” (or, Scientology “Space Drama) ego trips, currently ascending in to the “cult leader” realm, as a mock-up egoiste-epatant:

Updating: the DTLA Pershing Square flocks of pigeons and sparrows - cute! (Photo blog)

 Here’s an updating photo blog documenting the attainments gained, the social developments, and sometimes just the plain cuteness, of the pigeon and sparrow flocks that reside in the Downtown Los Angeles park of Pershing Square. These flocks are perhaps the most prolific and showy flocks in the DTLA civic center area. 

Update: 12/09/2021

Today was a rainy day at Pershing Square. Check out the wet pigeons! 

A Sunday morning’s pwn’ing of a pigeon-feeding bum - a 12-Steps program confessional episode.

As the literature of the 12 Steps addiction recovery program proscribes, we are to admit that we are powerless over our addiction, and that our lives had become unmanageable. 

The practice of confession, in civil society, dates back hundreds of years, perhaps over a millennia and more (I’m not quite sure, off hand), although events such as the Inquisition, which happened in Europe starting around the 12th century, continuing forth for hundreds of years, would perhaps be the most notable historical time period and setting which we would correlate with the preeminence of the Catholic Church. Obviously, confessing is a difficult and humbling thing, to say the least. I’ve not raised a child, personally, but my own imprinting, from my nurturing environment, was a slightly heavy-handed period of discipline upon myself; my father not having been much of an intelligent man, of some sort of faculty of insight and breakthrough, as far as having attained a more perseverant and empathetic affect for us. 

That being said, I spent much of my childhood years, through my young adult life, fraught with dishonest slips of disclosure, characterized by a subconscious fear of being reprimanded cruelly by others, coupled with the inclusion of willingly intended acts of deception, which would correlate with the trait of caring to please others, and appear to be well and upright, in disciplinary terms. Having been an abuse victim, in my younger years, less-efficient and less-productive traits saw their way through in to my developmental maturity paradigm, in other words, and looking back, I would have sought better methodologies of progress and self-representation, whereas the mysteries as to whether or not a person is depraved, as a dishonest person, in this day and age - prior to the brain-computer interfacing adjunct intellectual evolutionary era of development and understanding - in many various social and technological sciences being affected and dependent upon ever-more challenging and demanding standards of understanding and of communication, we face an imminent existential crisis, each unto ourselves, yet, in the age of the mind, to come, a well-minded person would most commonly seek to persist, and to thrive, whereas in keeping with inclusions of “what’s necessary” for survival, being the primary driving impetus in establishing our prescience in … 

Eh. Maybe that’s all. I crashed my definition check basis in implementing prescience, just to be sure of things, and I’m generally sure that it ought to fit appropriately, according to logic, but I was just saying… just remarking on the confessions and admissions that had been going on, for me (in my mind), and it’s obviously a complex set of contexts and issues which could have words put to them, although people are supposed to be afforded their anonymity, in the 12 Steps program. I stopped where I determined that I had been challenged by my own ambitions to have my place stated, appropriately, and accessibly, for including prescience - even though I feel that it was a good enough logical adjunct as for communicating what would have come, from out of that. I figure that if I’d crashed the definition engine, it’s possibly not affording accessibility to the common person. 

Oh, okay. Update: apparently I’m … 

Well, never mind. It was just a connection glitch on my iPad Pro. I’ll stop, in any case, but here’s the definition of prescience, just for fun. It turns out, it’s actually somewhat just been characterized in the above paragraph.

A vehicle gets pwn’ed in South Los Angeles.

Talk about road rage: this vehicle showed up just around the corner from my home. Man, oh, man. The things that must be going on while I’m out feeding the pigeons, I can’t imagine.

Ask iPigeon.institute: why do my genitals smell like I’m dirty from out of nowhere, lately?

 I’ve been experiencing this phenomenon going on years, at this point, albeit in intervals. The experience of having this sort of debacle befall one’s self is a traumatic and humiliating one, to be certain, because most of us take care to keep ourselves clean. So why does this sort of thing happen? It would nearly seem as though we had somehow had a lapse in consciousness, where somebody had molested us, intentionally wiping their body odor on us, whereas we may have become aware of this; for me, for living out on the streets - it becomes a questionable occurrence, as well: then I clean myself, and it ends up happening all over again, whereas only a short time had passed, and there had been no established belief of that I had had a lapse in consciousness, or a strange encounter. Is it epilepsy? How could the continuity of time have been so seamlessly thwarted? It would, on the surface level, imply that there is a state of warfare, here in The Militarized Zone of DTLA and surrounding localities, of an unimaginable cost. There may be this sort of unspoken, ongoing strife and expenses wrought upon society, from where we stand, and stay, here, while intimations of “perhaps” truths are lobbed at us, some of them, an attempt to evince belief, others, to challenge us, of our beliefs, and some things that seem beyond belief. 

So, what is the truth? 

On some level, it’s important to simply just not freak out. Just recognize, or look it up: we do live in The Militarized Zone here. I didn’t know it until I started studying for my A+ certification, and I got the big book, for my studies. It seemed a somewhat aside note, yet somehow conceded, here, in this premise, for the techies. For the tech guys to understand. To gloat over it, or to disavow it would suppose that they’d been lying in this book of standard literature that many of us (perhaps mostly guys, this being the tech field and industry) had studied. I never went through with taking the test and certifying, but this inclusion of information was a preeminent and formative small facet of truth that was imbued in to my life. 

To continue, upon “not freaking out,” it simply “makes sense” that we’re here, by our own choice and volition, and many of us had been indulging in the vice industries, here. On some level, it’s somewhat “allowed;” even included, in the list of startup business licenses that are available out here, in the city of Los Angeles (at some point, perhaps I’ll come across this moment, once again, in my own startups pursuits, and I’ll include the link; I feel that it would be a bit of an arcane lore thing to rediscover, and cite, at this point in time. At least the article will have been written, already, though). 

The perhaps more sensible truth, that I’ll offer, being that casual remote sensing acquaintanceships and “portrayals,” I’ll say, are common - particularly for a guy like me, who tries to appear fetching and attractive. For example, an attractive young lady, about my age, or so, passed by me, as I was bummed out on the ground, earlier today. She was walking her dog. The supposition that I’d been attracted to her was gleaned, via intelligence, observing all of my interactions, feelings, thoughts, and emotions, all the time. Just maybe, she was attracted to me, as well. I personally choose to tread carefully, on this sort of context, since I know that I’m a bum. So how does this sort of thing happen? Is she a prostitute, smelling her day’s partner, and it becomes transmutable upon my own personage, for that a compellingly charming flirtation episode unraveled itself, as though she knew that I’m the pigeon-feeding bum? What did she really feel? was one of the suggestions lobbed at me. She was sociably a superior to me, as many women of this sort are: they get at the truth of sociability, in regards to many types of guys, and of girls who are like them, who live out this sort of prostitution-based lifestyle. 

Or am I being stalked by guys who are upset that they’re outside, and there’s a handsomer bum out here, being a narcissist, and they somehow command this capability? I certainly doubt that I had an unbeknownst (and, for that matter), commonplace sort of genitalia-smell exchange sort of sicko molestation sort of quick encounter, of a reputation that I don’t know about, happening to me. That would seem to imply an inordinate demand upon people of a type of cost and primacy basis, of being somewhere at a timely-enough jaunt, such to render me a more humble and hapless man, whereas I don’t really deserve that sort of outcome, in life. Sure, I had once (only once, though), been an ass-grabber, and I’d “somewhat” molested women, and all of these sorts of events were, in fact, consensual activities, and I was just a guy who’d been brought up, in part, of a detrimental nature, to have given me this sort of psychotic abandon and sense of entitlement of inappropriateness. So I did this sort of thing, many years ago, back in my youth. I don’t talk much to guys, so I don’t really know how prevalent this agreement of seeking and discovering a prostitute, for patronage, actually happens. Much of what I hear is conjecture, simply put.

I just feed the sparrows. I won’t deny that resonance warfare tactics exist, and I also wouldn’t quite suppose that people “don’t” commonly hear voices in their head, and I’d somewhat believe that people do establish face to f1ce relationships, perhaps sometimes, only, based on positive affirmations and positive conditioning that occurs, as a consequence of having been coddled, by what amounts to a support mechanism, of the intelligence community, that transpires, whereas I feel that the excuse is that we’re shy around each other, and perhaps not ready to really take the plunge, whereas more bold men, better for it, for a moment, or for a more long-term outset about things, are the ones who gain inroads in to establishing romantic relationships at this point in time, and so far. I feel that it’s well enough if I get people to acknowledge me and smile, perhaps, and it boosts my self esteem a little, when that happens. A truly serendipitous occasion, or opportunity, is a much more rare thing, although it more typically winds up in producing a long-term relationship, more fruitfully, and surely so, whereas I can imagine that it’s difficult to convince someone to not continue forth in life, as a prostitute. It’s awrr rawr rough and tough, not being a prostitute, I imagine. 

Nourishment, in the time of Radio-Nuclear Evolutionary Establishment.

 According to some reports I’ve heard, of the day, 

Hmm… maybe never mind. But somebody said that we don’t need to eat any more, and that simply… well. I dunno. 

Okay. The premise was that I cooked a meal from stuff I had stored in the freezer, the other day. That was days ago. Now, tonight, (earlier), I heard somebody say that they were fed from the cooking of the food, in and of itself, and that a town nearby here (nearby Los Angeles, that is), got nuked, and everyone is blind, in the area, currently. Now, I’m just about feeding the pigeons, mostly; let’s not forget. I’m a bit fairly traumatized and nerve-wracked about these people seeking some sort of imminent victory of aggression and dominance over others, as if life exists for nothing, but, say: dominance, narcissism, grandiosity, delusions, impetuousness, recalcitrance, and caprice, as some of the primary features. 

Now, I won’t say that somebody else’s home is a different place; by all means. I’m tacitly befuddled by many of the things that get passed off as viable “things” that I hear, and, to be certain, people scarcely speak to me in person, and I doubt that people would take the trouble to encounter me, in person, to tell me such wild fables and vivid lore, in a world where a person is their total and replete self; not some farcical and imaginative play-world that our 2021-version of remote sensing encounters and accountability is, where things of an unsociable nature typically get passed off as pro-adversarial abuses, of oppositional figures, being exhibited to their witting and intentional victims, and whereas these sorts of encounters seem to elicit no long-standing or consequential outcomes, in life, for no matter the magnitudes of depravity and social authority in our civilian culture. 

Is this a game of condescending authority upon us, by our higher power, who manages these remote sensing encounters? I’m so largely wrought up of remote sensing topics and hearsay; I’m quite obviously made strange, so to speak. A person of my age and aptitude, and good-willing Christian nature, ought not be made to be so trivial and trifling a subject. I find that the prominent issue at task, here, which is being disavowed, of primary value and worth - is that higher talents and some of the facets of the various intelligences, of our minds, are being ignored, or overlooked, and certain individuals, myself, as for my personal cares, as for the moment, could do better, much more so, and profitably, if our higher capabilities and talents were being extolled, or at least, not burdened by the belittling of our personage and intrinsic worth, through such defilements and debasement. 

By no means - society has not shifted in to a new defining evolutionary paradigm, and change happens slowly. This is a nation of many, many individuals, and lands, frontiers, and of various geographies and climate subtypes. I feel that some people are forgetting the elementary teachings, of our youth, in public school environments, that we had, of the understanding of, and teachings, thereof, about the diversity, as well as the unity, and defining, formative traits that we uphold, in America, where we celebrate freedom: these entrapping aggressive captors, of the free individual, stand boldly against the grain, in our America, and these people must be held accountable, somehow. I am not the man to conquer all needs, as being fulfilled, or virtuous, for that matter, by any means, and I can only do so much. People would typically understand me as that I commonly feed the pigeons, in the civic center area of town, for example. It is a task that takes much longer, perhaps, than expected, and it does come out of my own personal budget, which is currently quite a menial take, in terms of benefits I receive, from the welfare establishment of the state and local government, as well as funneled down from the federal government, in the larger picture. 

I won’t validate all things that I hear, to hold forth, in the minds, and across the eyes of my literate readership; some things, … well, my take is, is that something of curious notoriety, happenstance, which occurs, that we may come across, if it be a viable social more to have come to comprehend, as an enduring trait, in life, ought be considered, tucked away, and wait for a similar defining occurrence that would happen again, and again, in life, until it could be commonly observed, discerned, and relatable, amongst peers of intelligence and experience. My perspectives upon life are significantly in detriment, for that I am so commonly lied to, going on, so many years, with so much of my experience in remote sensing. 

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.

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. 

 

Stub: The Impending Crisis for Mental Health Patients - Neck Cancer.

 Neck cancer is a relatively new topic for me. I hadn’t heard of it, prior to a couple or so months ago (it’s now mid-October, 2021, at the time of this writing).

Cancer of the neck? I’ve had esophageal tuberculosis (I think it was; the doctors said that it was something else, or … I dunno. They kind of just disregarded it. Anyways, I lost my voice for perhaps a few months. It turns out that there were hard gobs of mucous stuck inside of my vocal cords, and I could get them out with a Q-tip. I surmise that I had contracted the disease through a tuberculosis test which I had been administered while hospitalized for an acute psychiatric emergency, for a month, or so. They denied that the TB test would cause tuberculosis, though. Some doctor had disavowed it, later on, in history. 

Here’s some of the knowledge base on neck cancer, from cancer.gov:

My red mark-up indicator brings to light a corollary topic which pertains to mental health, and remote sensing, as well as persona marketing, counter-intelligence, mind control, and gang stalking contexts. I’ll only get in to it stub, here, for brevity’s sake, and I’ll keep it simple, such as to let the reader’s mind ponder. 

Now, as well, with the advent of the cytokine storm of COVID-19 infections, which is an inflammatory disease, we see some notion of the otherwise common person, pushed too far, perhaps in their digital life, where life seems more compelling to indulge, for some, as that the constraints of the physical become the pains in the neck, whereas some of our hormones are regulated in the thyroids, which are situated right next to our major neck arteries. 

Some quick tips, as for harm reduction:

• Don’t smoke scuzzbwies and drywall. Just… just [fuck…] already. 
• Smoking is for tobacco, as far as lawful behavior is concerned. Becoming casual about “smoking” of other sorts lends itself to increased risk for total recall (full body scans, and transmutability unto others, aka Scientology “gods,” or idols of some sort, out of the subject.
• Remember the lessons of childhood. Don’t speak unless you’re spoken to. Respect your elders. Don’t use the Lord’s name in vain. 
• I’ve got an “advanced neck cracking” instructional video up on YouTube. Check it out. It might be revolutionary for you. Sure, it looks bad, but hey, this is the neck at issue. What kind of donor could offer a suitable adjunct parcel of body form and what kind of treatment protocol could be supposed, in such a situation?
• Just watch the video. I’m shooting for organic hits, here, and I know, it’s significantly niche, but if I do something on camera, and leave it posted, I’d hope that it at least helps some people out of their otherwise misery that they’re living through.

How does neck cancer become removed from the body? 

Neck cancer which is experienced concurrent with chronic inflammatory disease could be a condition which is simply symptomatic of the inflammation condition itself, in conjunction with pre-existing cancerous, or pre-cancerous cells in the body, attempting to release themselves from the body; a condition which could correlate with an ionic mineral cleanse and detoxification regimen, for example. I would estimate that this is the process that I am going through. 

In essence, I felt that my experience of this problem became apparent, after I had some bouts of mild “chomping” down, at the jaws, at which point I incurred a fracture of my premolar tooth, on my upper jaw. I realized that this fracture indicated that it was an opportune and resonantly consistent ulceration that had been opened up, of a seamless opening that bridged my bloodstream in to the outside world, of my mouth. I noticed that I had let out a blood clot; for example, and it was a blackened opening, similar to a cavity, yet a bit uncommon, since it was not at my gum line; rather, it was in the middle of the tooth, as though the tooth had been drilled open. I had various exigent sources of need, in detoxification: for one, I had broken my fist against the wall, a couple of months prior, and my bone marrow had an opportunity to leak out, in to my blood stream. In this case, I felt that I was regulating, and renewing, the bone marrow that had been leaking out, giving my overall bone marrow composition a new signature trait to it, whereas it was locked inside of the bones, prior to my hand break. Aside from this, I am a long-time tobacco smoker, and I have ostensible tar and plaque buildup in my bloodstream; but my broken hand’s scar tissue would probably have been one of the acutely critical things to get out of my bloodstream. At the moment, it’s popping up, in my life, as a deep vein thrombosis, at the back of my knee. I’m working it out, through vigorous exercise, mixed in with intervals of rest, and I suppose that some of it is aerated out of my system through this fractured cavity in my tooth, which will eventually be treated and sealed back up, with a renewed regimen of ionic calcium intake, which I will manage for myself, and perhaps I’ll follow up with a dentist, to have him check on it, and perhaps seal it with a filler, as had been done for me, on my molars, back in my school days. 

The large cavity fracture on my premolar is evident, here, in this image. 

Take a look at how large my teeth had grown out, and expanded, with ionic mineral calcium supplementation! Perhaps I can grow in to a larger frame, some day, with continued supplementation. 

Virtual 13th Step 12 Steps Meeting: The Search for Ether Absolute.

 It’s a challenge; discovering life as a circumcised individual, in sobriety contexts. 

On one hand, I didn’t even know that I was circumcised, to begin with. A former friend queried me, one day, during my early teenage years, and he popped the question upon me. I probably said something like, “huh? Oh, well, umm… yeah, it’s like… uh, that, I guess.” He replied, “that’s sick!” For my foreign countries readers, in the last appearance of a society’s generation (this was the time of Generation X; now we are in the Millennial Generation, I would suppose), saying “that’s sick!” could be tantamount to “that’s so awesome | cool!” or it may just be a ruse to implicate analytical sarcasm and disinformation, upon the recipient. The guy has a “sickening” habit of speaking disingenuously, and callously. We’re no longer friends, because he ignores responding to things that I ask him, whereas he seemed to be significantly engaged in torturing my loved ones, as well as myself; as if I could possibly be dumber than he is, in simple remote-sensing perceptions. 

Once, I got talked in to (in my head) sending the guy a photo of me, with my pants down. Nowadays, I have an xvideos quick take on myself, contextually xvideos… <_<, and anyone is free to discover that stuff. From then until now, I had, (or would) hardly conjure up, in my mind, just as I had been, as a youth, as an adolescent - I’d been unaware of this “difference” about me. I’d been flashed pee-pees of other guys, and they were “different,” too, but different from me, (I only really saw one of them, the other was inside of pool water, and the guy tried to make a deal of that we both do it, together, but I wasn’t really in to it, because I was taught not to do that sort of thing). What had become of some of these guys? A Dick Big Now? out of them, or something? Back then, a Dick Bigg would have been the ultimate. Nowadays, given some years in to adulthood, and some private time, left alone, who could claim that they hadn’t indulged all sorts of sexual fetishization amusement and erotic moments, based upon seedy-seeming niches? - whereas the Dick Bigs were a youthful transgression, and imperative demand, upon a future lover, of that their dick big now status would consummate of that they were over, and not possibly made of a little dickie fetishization, of their “still” pornography-indulgent minds - that’s what I figure: a dick bigg now kind of guy couldn’t possibly, over a large average of individuals, comparatively, be all that much better off, in abstaining from temptation, given certain circumstances, such as having no partner, incurring internalized criticism, rebuke, and humiliation, at the hands of peers or authorities, or, even within the structure of a heterosexual romantic relationship, of that the female leaves, while the male is still consummately a drug addict, and abuser, and he, in turn, in moments such as this, would inevitably, at least sometimes, still turn to pornography, for his satiety. 

I never got a requited dick photo from these guys, in return. 

Nowadays, in dick-centric circles, a bwopp-dick faggot sort of profile gets a lot of fluff, and respite, from the participants, who imagine, and live down - vastly illegal and intoxicated sorts of mindsets about “outing” the guy with an uncircumcised penis, sort of thing, going on (goes on). The hazing, drunken groups gathering, the remote-sensing stalking, the interrogations and accusations (witch hunting), the targeting of connections to the individual (isolation and casualties), the threats of public strangers, who show up to target the individual (gang stalking), and the disavowal and threatening of victims of the opposite sex (human trafficking, sexism, and bullying) - all of these things, and even at that, perhaps it’s not all and everything said, on the matter. It’s upsetting stuff, at issue, here, and the depravities are stacked one upon the other, quite richly. The guys establish an entire lifestyle basis of a claim, in superiority, of that, and this; this and that, and they decide, collectively, amongst themselves, that their claims, demands, and all-extents considerable - courses of action, are justified, of an un-Christian decree, and basis, whereas they had done themselves a dick bigg, through hormonal and supplemental augmentation. I had not known about any such stuff, whatsoever, until I became schizophrenic at age 30, and the angry confessions, after years of having been veiled, under abuses that I burdened, and at some point, I became aware of the fact that these individuals really are - at least, in some, or many instances, conceivably, and believably - certainly doing these things to me; to my figurative and imaginary self. They found themselves a sort of no rebuke to be seen, nor consequence. 

Sometimes, these players, in life, circle themselves amongst the psychiatric community, or the local fire station, and they demand the material resources of anesthesia, or some sort of carbon monoxide concentrate; as a perfumer, such concentration and specialty is otherwise known as an absolute: in this case, it would colloquially be known as ether absolute, from an etymology bearing upon Johnny Depp and Guillermo Del Toro, in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, based on the writings of Hunter S. Thompson. Sometimes, in a downwind position, in life, an ether faucet would be unfurled, or some sort of strange, sadistic, ritualistic establishment, of strangeness, under the care of a strange-minded person (reiterative, but I could speak worser names upon people) - I’ve come to understand this sort of passive-aggressive intent unto dominance, over me, as a relegation and rebuke of the fact that I happen to have been circumcised, as a child. I simply have the mind of that I just “didn’t know” any different, and by the time I figured out that people had been abusing me over the matter, in private and collusive groups, and of a callous and calculating mind, that it were, half of a lifetime, or “most” of a lifetime, perhaps, so to speak, had passed - age 14 when I discovered that I was different, and age 30, or later, when I had begun hearing voices, and years gone on, after that, that I had discerned that this sort of penis envy issue - which is supposed to be a female’s plight, in early childhood, according to the literature, was significantly, and commonly an issue of dissent, and of attrition towards me. 

What more could I offer the people? Aside from my pornography, when I became good enough and ready to do it? Hmmpf. The demands of people for whom all of pornography is not, had not been - not been good enough for them, or that they had begun to claim that they cannot satisfy themselves - me, as simply just different, yet I scarcely receive “valid” (forensically analyzed) claims, of merit, of that women are displeased with my manner and attitudes, as well as my behavior, potentially being at issue. I figure that the ones who do complain, had been taken in, by the men, of the abusive clarion call decree, in society, and they act out, in a Stockholm Syndrome manner, within this context at issue. 

I’m not sure what else to say. Sometimes the words simply fail to have any meaning, and people enter in to abusive and inferior types of relationships possible, with such a person as that would do such a thing to me.