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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 fai...

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 sta...