A short summer walk's recyclables jaunt pulls in some impressive guano aside and discarded tobacco. [Photos]

I came across a freeway underpass with a particularly rich abundance of pigeon guano,

So I collected it, upon considering that I might otherwise neglect it and it could possibly be cleaned up before I come back to it.

I found several dumps of cheap cigar tobacco and a bone-dry pigeon corpse. I found the corpse compelling for creating and developing towards a future Kunstkamera Museum, perhaps, of pigeon-lore.

I also found a nice 4-tier stacker table to later organize my coconut guano air-curing receptacles with the aim of establishing a special variety Nicotiana tabacum varietal, later on this year, or next planting season.

The guano haul weighs about 10-15 pounds. It's a particularly biologically active, vile mess of guano and fluff, right from underneath a freeway overpass, and I would swear that the disease organisms are ready to infest any living creatures nearby. I'm fortifying with ionic minerals and antibiotics; me and the pigeons. I'm considering perhaps putting the materials through a slow roast right away to kill any living creatures and their eggs.

Some photos in regards to the pigeon guano sweathouse coconut-curing tobacco agriculture .institute establishment.

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The concept is simple enough.

I have slow I/O data connections on my device, and I Can read and functionally take in signifiant contributions of non-volatile web-standards sites,

but then, 

if only 

the site would also jaunt 

side-loading parallèle iPigeon jaunt leisure aside pop-ups,

Par en vous être sont ils símiliaęræsthèsiment

even slightly jauntededAF'ed... 

a bit more bíftęk bonne âmes flame broiled tri-tip shitsicles triste incursion of à late-heraldry dept. 

Of public affairs-socioalètrivsisselesmonts,

which happened to be a trying 25 days or so, much of which was better off in that it was a trash dumpster years-end move outs-academiesiaetiques of the recyclables-bum coverage area,

which I've been looking and feeling alright to jaunt-triste alley-trash dumpster diving-bum, 

yet it doesn't get weird, from my volatility profile fluff. 

Other bums walk on the same streets, why not a garbage recycler clothing enthusiast tech life style blogger standard fluffboy academic dégrée and à load-bearing bum profile kit? Pretty standard to dig through the trash, yet a non-domesticated variety bum.

There were tons of Asian .pharma ad hoc OTCs and some prescribables; tricyclical anti-depressants, 

and I'm not for fluffing pharma nitro butyri smokin' "meth," ... 

Smoking is tobacco and cigars. 

An un-justified jaunt-inclusive Nabisco diet triste would be ... «okay»; they're

1:2:3 

biscuitées compagnie nationelle in a card box; supposedly:

« !...whatever ... » 

I call the ingress monolithiques-historic Nabisco-socialite-bifték 

bonne déjeuner for a sçhweaky peut-être commentaire on the bleeding of gums, méat bits in the teeth, some fleas-smellin' piss, leanAF diet on tech rotary codices in a filthy outdoors environment, 

and then the window-to-street ratio is 

so not Guy who did it himself 

kind of 

fluff-triste animal cruelty thing, and it smells like it, as Well, outside. 

I'm going to follow up GTD on my 

tobacco curing crop Summer gardening project, 

and purchase ionic minerals, gallon of milk, then perhaps [or before], 

workup some mockup linguistics soundex homologies of charset standards of validly jaunt-loading 

bif-coto-proteries-schqueaf-schqueaf, 

à rawr râ rawrr.. 

then I have to encode the resonant-spinners-toy district jaunt to do a makeshift pigeon ciconne-pipe-machine organ, made of spinners, instead, 

«perhaps». 

I have some more un-published blog notebook article to upload, after this one.  

Unicode Typography Library for a Font Design Presentation and Custom Hosted Font Project - to do.

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Reimagining the iPigeon.institute home exhibition.

With the new guests of the establishment,

The pigeons I purchased from 6th at Wall Street, by Skid Row,

I'm thankfully befitted with a quieter outlook; there were some notions that being guilty of cruelty to animals was a knee-jerk obvialty. 

Apart from reestablishing precedence, I'll take what I'm left with and go with perspective. Obviously, the place ought to be wrought with purpose for the pigeons. The place lives for them; they're significantly king and queen of the feral pigeons, in place and in purpose. I could expand upon this stated belief, but I believe I had done so, in previous blogs. 

The significant gist of the matter is that during last month's unseemly revue about the neighborhood corner I occupy, in my section 8 apartment, in which there were unending, relentless, and what I would aught consider to simply be a racial maturity divide, in which I simply couldn't possibly reach them, and I detailed it on twitter.

Link (collection - breakdown of last month on Twitter).

Regardless of anything, it was many things inappropriate. On some level, I had, in effect and in essence, elevated my status-rated universal significance bearing by a lot, on account of my habititude and whereabouts, which landed me a spot suitable, thereupon, to carry out a bevy of historically Wikipedia articles significant fare: of such things as common historical intrigue that had eluded me, previously, in scholarly works, research; investment.

That being the case, I'm very interested in getting started on my French Roll parchment transcription of my blogs, here, on iPigeon.institute, so far: in case some sort of fated disaster might happen, and also to slow the brakes on projected development, to take a step back and to go over the content I'd already produced, which I felt was compelling, at the time I wrote it. 

I've got a vast mess of clothes and kitchen stuff to wrest with; although I feel that, after the long battle and siege of last month, that I've been graced, by God and by virtue, with a wherewithal and wellness that will see me suited quite well enough to clean and organize my place; a task bearer's status claim which I feel was vastly laid claim over, due to my simple entrant's place state-of -in-life: that of a welfare housing recipient. I felt it my place to assert my wellness and buck the trends that apparently were, of those eyes upon me of people who were aught to assist me, who laid more than eyes upon sight, being that I was their client, and that welfare was their job.

Pictured here is the general task I'm forthwith faced with.

I have, in combination with other tobacco growers, produced a fine resinous tobacco cigarette.

The length of the cigarette is as shown. I found the Rolling papers out on the street. The implications of the Rolling papers guidelines is fairly disturbing.

I got some real pigeons; a fantail and an Arabian.

They're a breeding pair,

I walked them most of the way home, to ensure their stability and safety during rush hour traffic. I was notably stalked by at least some individual, who keeps pulling over on the street and talking to me, and meanwhile, the presence of police activity as they showed up, was significantly up and down my specific beat, the windy corridor.

They did fairly well, coming home. I think that they are going to be faced with a significant burden on their stability, being that there's a local roost of pigeons nearby and I've collected their dry poop as guano, which has been curing here, and it has a significant attractive of molecular energies quality to it, as the wild pigeon roost poop is raw materials and wild birds don't notably have a source of water to drink, that I know about, around here; I believe that there will be some significant strain on domestic pigeons such that I've purchased, for the fact that perhaps simple osmosis of energies will take place between this pair and the wild population, outside.

Aside from that, I hope that the birds will herald an opportunity for creating a nice home here, and many pigeon homesteading adventures as a process of learning.