iPigeon.institute blog

Sunday, January 19

Coral - a TensorFlow developer-[high-]end System-On-Module Machine-Learning Computer.

Somewhat that I'm simply taken by the ultra-slick achievement that’s been accomplished by the engineers who made the smart bird feeder, along with other ingenious examples.

I had been a “taker” of Google’s AIY (Artificial Intelligence Yourself) product line, in purchasing their second edition of the Voice Kit, a Google Cardboard kit, aimed at users age 14 and up, and I found it to be a somewhat very entertaining and challenging (hardware accompaniment-wise, as the board used only micro-usb ports and configuring an SSH and VNC remote-device connection [which was my alternative mode of solving the problem] was still a bit confusing, largely; particularly in establishing a clear-cut routine).

Regardless, I was still able to get the small System On Module board to be built, configured, and work with SSH and VNC connections, but I never got around to really getting in to the meat-and potatoes of the device - loading the Google developer repository and full library, language and open source coding behind the gist of the machine could have been - a development module for the Google Assistant with the gRPC source cod libraries loaded, in various language flavors and offerings - I was fixated on trying to get the Java libraries to work, on a note of that I had been reared on Mac OS X, largely, which has Java .jar files as one of their natively supported coding languages and package support features built in to the operating system. I was imagining that I could develop .jar modular instances of pop-up applications of an ad-hoc nature, upon having the applications being invoked by the user. It was a fairly invested many nights of research that I had devoted to the process.

Google's more-advanced (and cutting edge, high-powered) System On Module device and plug-and-play System On Module (bigger-brother) of the AIY retail offerings, which I bought from Target. The Voice Kit is currently available on other online retailers for as little as $5, since the board is a Zero wH Razpberry Pi board, with a single-threaded processor, whereas the Raspberry Pi boards were at the 3rd generation at the time of release of the Voice Kit, and the Raspberry Pi 4 had subsequently been released.

🎯

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Google Voice Kit AIY : Target

Rating: 4 - ‎24 reviews - ‎$49.99

Free shipping on orders of $35+ from Target. Read reviews and buy Google Voice Kit AIY at Target. Get it today with Same Day Delivery, Order Pickup or Drive ...

Being that the film industry is in town, I've been able to resolve some of my interrent crises of happenstance everyday lifestyle

Such as:

I missed the food bank, the other day, on account of exhaustion from hauling a heavy recyclables-laden rolling luggage and, at that, challenging myself, on a suggested notion that I ought to jog-it-on-home, to manage my weight and for sustainability in endurance, to come - in future treks out to DTLA for my daily work needs, of collecting recyclables and feeding the pigeons. I found some great-looking disposed-of food in the alley, where I had serendipitously been lead to, as well as that it was a piss-alley premonition of that I needed to go pee, after getting off of the bus (I have kidney issues due to intricate medical complications due to taking Zyprexa ODT Zydis, which is an expensive and well-executed antipsychotic). I usually try to keep good in my civic conscientiousness by peeing in to a bottle, but the exacerbation of my kidneys issue (due to that I'm extra-fond of [due to my medication] and robustly supported by [due to recycling] had been wearing down on my ethically better resolve, as of the past few weeks. Thankfully, I've been getting more rest, and managing my inflammation better, at the same time. I also procured this new rolling luggage, of an artist's posterboard frame size, out in Echo Park, which has proven itself to be a fortunate common destination for my recyclables-seeking. It fits inside of my current luggage, good for an emergency on-the-spot backup, in case the wheels on my old bag run ragged.

My Nike AirMax shoes (highly recommended) had run worn and flat. I sounded like an air cushion when I would walk. Although they were still walking-functional, I feel that my chronic back pain may have been exaggerated by walking them flat. I discovered some good-enough Nike Airs, as well as a pair of New Balance shoes, also fashionable-athleisure favorites of mine. Although I have the inclination to help dress the homeless as fashionably as I am dressed, for happening upon discarded clothing in charitable Los Angeles districts and locales, I commonly find that many disheveled or otherwise burden-fraught local bums and female-homeless are too conditionally unspeakably-dumb, or acutely neurotic, largely the female homeless, presumably on account of being pursued and taken by the notion of free intoxication of bum-fare, and obviously smoking it, at that. One of them, whom I had been taken by, significantly, because of the fact that she offered me a vent Starbucks, while she was reading the Bible (with the chapters of Jewish influence added to them - the silver edition), was friendly to me, the next time I saw her. Now, she speaks in jibberish tongues [apparently Hijri-mockup dialectical pidgin-petit a'd hoc-ism], which is unfortunate, obviously. She's been of this habit since I once offended her by showing up too commonly where she typically hangs out. It could have been so different between us - now it's barriers of [according to her] Hijri-linguistics mock-up jokes between us, even though I legitimately show up at the park, as a bum.

My daily meals and food distribution efforts for the needy who hadn't been as outrigger trekker as I had been, about town, we're exacerbated by missing the food bank this week. I fortunately found a pizza and an Italian plate today, still warm. They also let me sack through their dumpsters and private-party trash cans, without any down-on-bums drama about the disparity looks of a grown-man-(boyish-looks) dumpster-diver amongst them - film industry working types.

Saturday, January 18

I finally resolved the hummingbird image issue, after 4 hours of sleep in the morning.

Thanks, people, for all of the wild and free love expressed for what's been going on, here, and on my social media channels. I love you all back. Hopefully I'll have a girlfriend soon.

But anyways,

Here's my final take and rendition of the hummingbird line art character illustration, with help from imaengine, one of my essential go-to apps for vectorizing and processing images in to my favorite illustrative form: line art.

Friday, January 17

An ultimate chill | post-rock YouTube playlist.

I came across this playlist that I had etched out, one night long ago, while digging through my YouTube accounts for any bitsies or interesty-puff jiggly-pooz that had been a long time buried, back at my old apartment, this past fall, or so. It's super chill, not much on the electronic ambient side, which was refreshing to discover. These are more atmospheric rock ballads and drags, good for when life has become too much to bear, or when it all just had to end, yet here, it ends gracefully, with some smooth riffs and somber melodic tones and vocals.

The decay of literary and illustrative artifacts of on on släbed’en jaunted AF of most of of on of Hibachi AF of on släde.

These artifact, from my earlier blogging years on Tumblr, are from Spring 2017, I believe. They’d been living in my backpack, mostly, since that time, or on the wall, or within a stack of papers. The decay and damage from handling highlights the need for astute development in digitizing significant works of dharmic dictaphone transcription when artistic merit has been ignited, within a user base of a common kitsch.

Oftentimes, the original impetus behind a work is wrought, time and again, in efforts to recapture the inspiration that spun an original work, of a timely and well-attuned gesture, or motive, as it’s known in music theory. In ink brush illustration, as well as in au jour dictaphone renderings of speaking in tongues, or highly-insightful and effectively delivered speech of intelligentsia nature, the stakes at hand are such the same, as they are incidentally (at times) made beautifully (and rarely so) as singular works of spiritually enlightened works.

I happen to not be significantly creatively and technically skilled, of an offhand consideration, well enough to render, by hand and by memory, much of any of a classical sort of work, that would be considered, as such; much, lately. I don’t practice either. Not often, that is, although I do spend a lot of time poring over aesthetically valuable works and various other sorts of offerings of technical, impact marketing, symbolic, or artistic efforts in my studies for the sake of furthering my endeavors of app and enterprise development, and to create gestural finery when I might be able to (very commonly due to stimulation). [I am constantly reminded, by means of my lifestyle, of my relative and humble position in communing and portraying these works]. On some level, there’s stages of threshold glass ceiling in what I could aught be able to achieve, for any foreseeable given span of time.

Hmm. I’ve been working, now, about 5-6 straight shifts, but I’ve made sure to [this morning] take my medications, turn off the hot pot {heater ad hoc}, and attend to all reasonable demands and | or expectations I’d be best suited for, in that the suggestions had been laid in at me like that, for various reasons. At some point, - . . . is always happening, during this course of work scheduling. It’s been an effective mode of productivity. Blog hits are at a sustainably moderate level of ‘more than before,’ and things ‘seem’ sustainable, as long as I remember to keep a well-composed trail of things that reliably portray ‘fluff,’ valuated content, or finery, depending on one’s disposition distinctiveness of perspective, on the portrayal of things. So, some things are simply works of upkeep, such as maintaining my ionic periphery catalysm salts and digitizing works of analogue creation, or re-analogizing digital re-creations of originally digital works by the various means offered, through handmade means. In the digital world, everything is a step-by-step process.

I suppose that’s enough. Here are the artifacts; this is what they look like, and are left as, after the artistic and development process has laid in through them, of my enterprise.

On the other hand, looking forward, very quick, here - I have two works of inspirational ad hoc discovery: what appears, to me, to be a near-3D rendering of my existing round logo [something more to follow up on; potentially after rest, in a day, or so: and the baby hummingbird in hand, which I handed over to a parentally [directly a parent of a child, already] responsible individual, whereas I was heavy-laden with physical burdens. Hopefully the bird survived the trauma of leaving the nest just fine, in the end, but it is a beautiful thing of folkloric epiphany and inspiration - the bird in the hand, as it makes it way in to line art form.

Trying to figure out which one is better?

Chapter 1 of iPigeon.institute - a look in to the Accounts, Life, and Devices of Jay Ammon (iBook)

The Injured Bird - out on my own in the streets of Los Angeles.
As the old saying goes, “if you can make it here, you can make it anywhere.” In Los Angeles, in our generation, coming in to adulthood amidst a seething somewhat maturity, we’d been hearing that line since we were children. All sorts of lines, in fact. Many of us arrived here from somewhere else, or some happenstance sort of lifestyle such that we were - that our parents were immigrants, or not, or that we were largely fraught with the spectre of a melting-pot metropolis of assimilation, due West, just a bit more than our suburban lifestyles had led us. That’s what I knew of Los Angeles. I was about 25 miles east of the epicenter of town that had (by now - 2020), become DTLA. Back then, it was about Hollywood. That’s where I reared my chops, as the story would go, as a failure of grad school at the University of California at Riverside. My professor told me that my aspirations, given my skillset, simply would not match up to the thesis project I had supposed of myself as being [manically] capable of enabling, in and of my means of creation, being a Music Composition Master of Arts student, in the year of 2005.
Aside from that, my instabilities, as a highly-endowed methamphetamine and cocaine user, in addition to my unbeknownst fallout of my college-years relationship were looming high above me. An iconic failure-to-be, of what my [aside-] entrepreneurial self had taught me were building blocks of character, in entrepreneurialism. That sort of Françoise romanticism was where the promise of the American Dream had hit me. For others, it was other things, of about town. For some, they could get by on cheap kitsch and slapstick maneuvers - a bitsy-step more distant, perhaps a bit more pragmatic, yet somewhat still leaning in to the notion of a narcissistic finery - one feature that delves deep in to the youth-minded psyche of our generation that came to fruition around the turn of the century.
Here, I had been taken in by a lover, (fast-forward a year and a half, given some rest, medication, a boxer’s fracture, yet I still had my car), and my parents’ still-supporting of me; luckily, I landed a girlfriend (to reiterate), and I successfully found a niche in a new marketplace: craigslist. New to me, anyways, for the most part. I felt like it was special. A vast frontier of freedom amidst the lackadaisical responsibilities of a small computers and tech section startup of a self-initiative founding sort - with a girlfriend? I set out to live what would turn out to be a life of ultimate-in-comfort, starting with a craigslist gig with a prominent Los Angeles photographer and filmmaker. Here (in this gig), I edited a photography shoot in to a YouTube video. Originally, with a Rolling Stone’s song as the backdrop, the video got a great deal of initial viewership, which I was proud of (40,000 hits, in about a week, or so). The video was taken down, due to YouTube’s copyright and Digital Rights policies, and the photographer had me come back to make a second and third video of his photography for him. He was also the one to get me in to an apartment on the West Side of Los Angeles, in Century City, just around the corner from the Century City Plaza shopping mall, right next to Ralph’s grocery. I paid $1,400 a month, and I was on my own. The girlfriend thing didn’t last long; we ended up getting in to spats, and we decided to call it quits.
The backdrop to all of this was that I was taken by the street scene that had been developing in the suburbs just off of Abbot Kinney in Venice Beach - the Shoreline Crips and a few other assorted characters were selling crack cocaine on the streets in small-batch pop-ups by night, and I was a most fond client of theirs. Back then, the narrow roads in a small perimeter, where they frequented, were backed up in lines of cars trailing down the streets. My girlfriend had chronic motion sickness, whenever she traveled in vehicles, so she didn’t come along with me. I would drive out, after days where I did my gigs on the computers and tech section.
James (the photographer who hired me for the craigslist gigs) opened up pouring faucets of the imagination, during the time that I knew him. He brought me on to one of his photography gigs, one day, where he had arranged a photoshoot with the (late) David Carradine, of television and motion picture fame.

This was my first introduction to Scientology, aside from having read the headlines on the tabloid newspapers when I was growing up. It was truly a fascinating experience, as the photoshoot took place at the Scientology Celebrity Center in Hollywood. Scientology would eventually weave its way deep in to my mind, once I hit age 30. Here, in the photo, I was in my mid-20’s. At the Scientology Celebrity Center in Hollywood, there had been two main facets of the location, at the time that I revisited it, which was, perhaps, in 2013. One of them is the mental health facet. Scientology is well-reknowned, in online literature, and also on its website, for denouncing anti-social behavioral disorders and abuses in psychiatry, as well as for their personality tests.

These are the results of my personality test from the Scientology website. I was invited to come in to the local Scientology Center to have a personal evaluation on the next morning. That’s my day for tomorrow. It’s out towards the beach, so I suppose I’ll have a beach day of it.

———

So, I did it. I went to the Inglewood Church of Scientology, and I met with a man named Raymond, who spoke with me about my test results. While I was in the lobby waiting for him, I was introduced, [via television] to the Scientology.tv network, and to various shows and clips that the network had produced; apparently available on cable. The stuff was compelling, modern, and flashy, but not gaudy or overtly religious, from what I could remember.

And then I left. I didn’t have any money to purchase the Scientology Dianetics book, although I was strongly urged to. I was automatically scheduled to show up at the Scientology Church, and I felt like it would be a novel and relevant aspect of writing, here, since I was mentioning Scientology in various degrees, and early on, in my writing. At this juncture, of where and when we exist, here, in space and time; the year 2020: our childhood youths happened in the 80’s. Many of us, in Los Angeles, and, ostensibly likely, as well, in any likewise metropolis outskirts suburban surrounding area, thereof, we had the tabloids, where controversial things would happen to and from and of by Scientology and Scientologists.
In our early university years, Scientology was largely framed by figures such as Tom Cruise (of many feature films’ fame, and Katie Holmes (of a popular teen’s weekly show,[Dawson’s Creek]). Here, in the post 2000 era, when a person such as myself had split off from my childhood upbringing, in which my Cantonese mother had shunned these tabloids, popular culture, cable television, and the entire set of lifestyles like it; I had lived that life out, as mostly sheltered from it, yet I found a youthful rebellion in pseudo ‘darkness’ of Norwegian Black Metal, which was somewhat Classical music progressions of a relentless and dramatic theatrics nature.
I was raised Christian (trying to tie it all together, somehow), and innately so. I was not really some portrayal of that which had attracted me about counter and sub-popular cultures. I took a lot of it in, however. The world of psychedelics and speed attracted me, significantly. I had a healthy set of friendships with my counter-culture (for lack of a more modern term) - friends | peers, I would say, at this point, in that I had been reasonably well-socialized: I had a couple of girlfriends during those years prior to university; it was etc. common fare dating of backyard parties and kegger-type partygoers who all had (probably) some likewise similar dynamic of a lifestyle in high school years such that I did, as well.
Not that I mostly ever really found out about stuff like that. I never really caught up with people on Facebook. I somewhat just presumed that people who were patronizing the same scene and hanging out around us had some of our common and base-level behaviors. I would [seem to] discover these things much later in life, as I developed schizophrenia, [still trying to tie it all in together - which these things ostensibly do, in Scientology, which deals with mental health and psychiatry]. On some level, it would rack the mind to try to comprehend the intricacies and, as well, to access the magnitudes and felicitudes

{
https://www.google.com/search?q=define%3Afelicitude&rlz=1C9BKJA_enUS883US883&oq=define%3Afelicitude&aqs=chrome..69i57j69i58.5358j0j4&hl=en-US&sourceid=chrome-mobile&ie=UTF-8
}

Imagewordincontext.com › felicitude
felicitude - Word in Context
... to those who were in the midst of the sordid round of tasks or the dull, heavy grind of poverty, of a felicitude that knew neither hunger, fear, nor pain; it offered a heaven forever to those who could endure a hell for a ...

Okay. Felicity means ‘intense happiness.’ Kind of like a beautiful Valentine’s Day celebration, when everything goes right. [cue the photo]. - ° | • • • ? Bwippsy-cat?

Okay. Maybe.

But the photo is pretty compelling, to go with it. I find that novelty [full-stop; insert there] - (as a recycler), I find. . . that novelty is one of the seeking and needful behaviors fulfilled by such-named activity as recyclables collection, out and about, in the metropolis, as it pays, in various locales of America, and it suits it - the lifestyle; the novelty, the degradation of digging in the trash - for a certain type: ‘not so much, so’ - I figure people would say, if they who are them who are ones who are in and about: of ‘the business.’

Because it is a business.

On one hand. There are professional recycling centers that are operated by licensed and certified individuals who form businesses. Then, there are the recyclables collectors, ... etc. etc. various sorts and forms, although the path is ostensibly the same.

- not true.

Even within the sub-form of recyclables collector, there is some room for variety. There’s the ones who pull up at the recycling center, and who could understand where they had gotten all of those recyclables? [not my sort]. Perhaps it was a sporting event. I’d come to discover that some people list these things in the ‘free’ section on craigslist.

Much another forum and meeting place for a discourse on novelty. Of timeliness? That’s forum, short-form, written up. It’s important to incorporate rhythm in to the concept of novelty, sentence structure, regularity, expectation, and resolution of the listener’s expectations.

In this case, though, it’s [perhaps], (and, most likely) [as well] literature, so obv- oh-bee-vee it’s most ostensibly going to be read, although - . . .

< • ,^ ° >

In these days of turned-up nose-cat, there’s liable to be some people sporting the accessibility feature of text-to-speech reading, which is novelty, in and of its own, that it comes into light, as such that reiterating the point, when a typical becomes particular; novel, sometimes, and for effect, the participle, of a reiterative form [and not even going back, to check grammar], we somewhat just trust that it’s right, and somehow, the money keeps coming.

Eventually.

It’s a psychological tool of novelty - recycling is, and as well, as is thumb-and-thumb 2-finger typing; essentially what aught be a symmetric and viable form, in that it ought be balanced, and well, in its form, in addition to being ostensible;

Just for trivia, I’m using the iPad, going on several pages, for now, in the keyboard of AZERTY, for the sake of my affinities for it, and I find it more elegant.

That sort of thing happens for a recycling (recyclables): ahem, collector. Not that it’s always so elegant, but that’s somewhat the consequence of what and why, but how? That’s somewhat the mystery of the schizophrenic mind, of which, perhaps, Scientology does some sue discourse, thereupon, yet I’ve not discovered it, as of yet. I can but of only just briefly contextualize upon the topic and religion.

Even that was a contextually novel thing to believe, or to say.

On one hand, the fluff of contextualization somewhat bwipps up some fluff about contextually relevant au par truthful, given the span of time that someone could hope to be paying attention to something. Sometimes, a difficult and much-bereaved task to endeavor that someone could muster, in and of their own spatial-consciousness, which typically, on its own, is contextually... I suppose, . . .

Okay. Easily forgettable. But a novelty will stick around for a much more memorable section of time. Such as a cigarette butt. Gross, some people would ostensibly think, but then, it was almost as if everyone had become only some people, for the sake of that the cigarette butt is like, everything - to the novelty seeker.

Actually, it was in Data Science - that I had rehashed, in my imagination, the sake of the word, and its terminology and ostensible rhetoric usage, in commonality, such that a researcher < NAME HERE > had properly mentioned it had been included in a study.

I remember it fondly. It happened on Twitter. One other endless fountain-eous ‘mon-tableau;’ contextually, here, seemingly a luxuriant thing, to consider, but now, in the scope of science, given technology - it’s a much-customizable user profile and interface such that a tableau could be considerably contextual mockup noms-nom of selectively tasty-pidgin selective of dry goods and used | new electronics, given släde.

But then, . . . some people would, perhaps take issue and continue compounding upon the topic at hand.

[yeah, right],

But then, perhaps, someone would remember the context, given tableau, mockup au française, and the futility of maintaining attention-span, for the sake of ‘’whatever.’

Okay. Done.