Cleaning up the wreckage of my life.

The landlord for my home had granted me an additional month to try and salvage my tenancy here, at Messiah Apartments. 

I was very thankful to my social worker for getting the extra month for me. Prior to this, I had been going through the Kübler-Ross stages of loss (although I'd state, for posterity, that I believe that angst, instead of anger, as it is, according to this current Wikipedia link, stated as such. I don't react as angry unless it's a huge row against me.

It was a difficult time, as I have legitimate procrastination issues, being that I'm schizophrenic; it's been documented - that I have difficulties in cleaning my apartment. I am constantly distracted by persecutions from my former peers from my K-12 school years. The representative from the housing authority didn't have any sympathy for the fact that I experience these voices in my head as stalkings and harassment. 

So much of myself was put in to lost dreams, here, at my apartment. 

I'm still experiencing daily abuses in life from distanced former peers; just but a few, but the psychosis of the depersonalization and passive aggressiveness grates on my capable mood. I was starting to believe that I could begin living life drug-free again; it had not been since 2016 that I was completely drug abstinent.

There was the early morning fanfare of a plausible home exhibition pigeon-extravaganza; minimalist, museum-esque, open front doorway, the madman's closet of strumming through the scuck fluzz of the mess. All of this, except that I truly had visions of this place being much moreso minimalist: simple wall-exhibitions of the illustrations and earlier blog works. It was supposed of as being somewhat an extension of the downtown Los Angeles, California, USA monthly Art Walk.

Then there's the pigeon carnival aspiration of fixing up a prime local brood of pigeons. I haven't given up hope, yet, though. The other day, I sprayed the dirt nearby my home where the pigeons roost by the freeway for ticks.

The nearby pigons' roost by the freeway at 9200 Grand, 90003.

Fast Company recently published a relevant article regarding the distractibility of creative individuals. 

The gist of it is that creative individuals have a lower threshold of sensory input capacity which dictates that the individual will perceive and pay attention to smaller minutiae of sound or sensory input. The study was done on a small control group of individuals; all apparently of a particular sort demographic. 

iPigeon fitness minute - the firehose outlets of a Downtown Los Angeles high-rises' enclave.

Being that it is, that the homeless lifestyle lends itself to physical exertion (in my case, that is);

I sometimes need to blow off some heat and pressure. 

A little-known tip that I've encountered, as an explorer of the metropolis, is that the Fire Department's firehose inlet-outlet fittings 

are commonly of a height and width that suits the standard adult body (mine, that is), in providing a spotting reference point that helps out in cracking the back. 

Some days are rough, keeping the pigeons fed.

Alright, I can own it: the bugs only home are not going to be particularly anything special just because I'm living here.

I had been of the belief that they could or might be; on account of the nuclear watershed environment about the place.

Sometimes the folklorist assertions from the voices in my head catch me suggestible, and not that nurturing environment doesn't count; indeed - particularly for a narcissistic and grandiose mind.

That being said, I've largely overcome many of my histrionics in of grandiosity par narcissisme. It's a difficult road to navigate; looking as I do, with a neuroticism behind the glamour. I wasn't brought up this way. I sometimes fancy the belongings of others, and, as we all know, it is a sin to covet what is rightfully someone else's. 

Sometimes the stories in my head turn me spiraling downwards in to a depressive mood, and I go outside, seeking stimulants for a fix; lately they just haven't been doing the job all that well.

All of that aside, I've realized that, along with my clothing haul from a few days ago, I brought home some ticks, as well. It's the beginning of the month now, and General Relief welfare has come through. I purchased a box of Raid Max concentrated fogger. I tried out staying inside while and after I sprayed, and it definitely works. I was choking on the fumes.

A box of Raid Max spray. I got some for myself, and I realized that the pigeons' roosts likely harbor ticks, as well.

I determined, from last year's iPigeon efforts, that the feces of the pigeons is a mineral-rich substance that attracts parasites. I figure I ought to spray the area nearby my home that features some freeway pigeons, and I'll give them some food, while I'm at it, for the morning, as well. Perhaps milk and cereal?

A 5 minute walk to the pigeons' roost, where I'm sure some ticks have gathered, to mangle the pigeons with Lyme disease.

Last night's haul - some clothes, some recyclables, and a bunch of Jumbo Jacks.

A slight iPigeon clothing haul-stack, from the USC / Harbor Transitway underpass 

Last night I found lots of Jumbo Jack burgers with fries. I figure it'll be good for the pigeons :)

The pigeons receive their daily bread

Here's what (I believe, over time), the pigeons will come flocking to, given that I'd feed them regularly.

Deal on now at Ralph's for pork loin, only $1.99 a pound.

I've got a great collection of spices and ingredients from a move-out trash dive at one of my pidginHub Landings - an alley behind the SB buildings on 6th at Spring.

It's an Indian sub-continent array of flavors; 

I'm going to cook up this pork loin on a slow roast: 200-275 or so, for several hours. 

A delicious large pork loin (spare ribs) from Downtown Los Angeles Ralph's.

The main theme of the flavor will be a coconut milk wasabi sweetened soy sauce, with a slight curry aspect about it.

This dish should prove to be a very delicious mildly sweet meat, good with white rice.

Update: 

Too soon, but first, too bad. The preheated oven was dialed down upon smelling the dish cook. Then I set the temperature in the oven to near-broil. After about 30 minutes, or so, I have a succulent and tender white meat - placed meat-side down to soak in the liquid broth - it's a good mixture, tasty and healthful, with bone marrow liquids seeping out of the bones and in to the broth.

I cooked the first slab a bit quick, on accident. This pork loin was cooked near broiling for about 30 minutes. The marrow is bloody, still, and it's seeping out. 

Having lifted and inspected what I'd been working on, for the dish, I realized that I would single-handedly be able to finish two racks of pork loin before it goes bad, so I got the second one out of the fridge to cook it.

A vertical view of the bone marrow juices as I throw on another slab of ribs in to the pan

I lit a corn husk and let it smoulder inside of the oven to give this pork rib recipe some authentic smoke flavor.

Mmm... Nice and juicy pork chops with rice.

Thin slices off of the large rack.

The two racks of ribs stayed well in the fridge, (and still juicy) for 5 days. I just finished the meat, now I have bones for pork marrow soup.

I'm being thrown out of my apartment for problems.

Given that I've been commonly late on rent, and some windows had been broken,

I'm being thrown out of my apartment. [ Apparently ]

I feel like it's going to be difficult times to come, but I'll avoid an eviction on my record.

Update: - I'm seeing that the Housing Authority of the City of Los Angeles « something; » yet they dominate the SEO for at in to monopolization (*update), and I've got to be a one to rebuke this in:order; perhaps through complaining or by fixing the problem, whatever it might be.

The backdrop was that the notice seemed to have differing import of suggestibility in my mind - which is to say that the letters in the mail seemed to not matter, or that the topics « could not matter » in my mind, as I can portray it.

This would be in addition to a notion of that I might not want to live here anymore; somewhat as well; which becomes a confusing thing. They claim various things, since the apartment had been reported as a complete disaster once the sink flooded over. My mental prioritization to that matter had been a backdrop of [abused] as a poorly-cared for ad-hoc drunken episodes banter « guys stuff <_ alcohol.="" allergic="" font="" i="" m="" to="" whereas="">

Perhaps, though, I'll sign ply have to drop the situation. I'm not sure of which ulterior story plot I might attach to, from day to day, but I can be a bum.  

The Section 8 Housing and Urban Developments initiative is one that is backed by the Federal Government of the United States of America, and; 

It agrees to reasonably accommodate individuals with disabilities. 

Given that I hear voices, and these dictactiphoneurs' trifles had been playing out on social media, as I've recorded them, I would believe, somewhat, that I have a case of discrimination that might need to be examined; as I am a mental health services recipient. 

* Of typing in site:hacla.org in the search bar. 

Some aspects of what I'd written could ostensibly shift meaning; given that I'm not one who works on this housing matters stuff.