Monday, November 12, 2018

Harvest Party

11-12-2018
 A Monday off work due to the national holiday yesterday, Rememberance Day. Though in fact, I did work yesterday on the construction site. Nice that there were so few trades around as I could get things done. My regular co-worker was with me for part of the day, but as we ran out of glue to finish the job, only part of it could get completed for the afternoon. Said co-worker is the one who threw a passive-aggressive hissy fit three weeks ago over a big nothing, another one of those "what was that about" experiences that have come on since all this abuse and harassment came down in 04-2002. Said co-worker is a little more friendly and talkative since then, and a two week work separation hiatus might of helped. The day after his ridiculous hissy fit he was re-assigned, hardly a coincidence, though I never told anyone anything and he said he wouldn't either. He has mellowed a little, and isn't so strange as he was before, since I began working with him in 09-2018. A Russian emigre, and true to form, cannot be figured out. Anyhow, we get a lot done together, and that suits each of us just fine as we are both accomplishment minded and like to do things efficiently.

And a hiatus from yoga again, due to today's holiday, and the perps just love to break up regular occurences, no matter the frequency; once per week to once per day etc. No good habit or regular practice goes undisrupted (or unsabotaged). Last week it was a Monday night show, so it will be three weeks since I get back to class unless I somehow join a class this week, a notion that curiously escapes me when these Monday night yoga disruptions come on.

The last class was a repeat of classes some six weeks ago, when the very dark skinned E. Indian arrives in class at the last minute and sits beside me at a spot that was left open. How this particular entrance timing and mat location selection "happens" so many times for this one particular individual cannot be a coincidence. Not only was a prime mat location left open for him while some 15 other yogis filed in beforehand in th preceding 15 minutes, but it the whole thing tells me that everyone else was arriving according to a schedule and in accordance to a seating plan. In seating himself beside me, this E. Indian  male also "happened" to place himself in front of the mirror reflection of this pretty blonde girl I had been checking out for the prior 15 minutes. So, instead of her gorgeous visage in the mirror, I get the fugly E. Indian male, a regular in terms of stalking next to to me. (Another case of bait and switch; babe, and then the fugly dude arrives later in her place). And again liek the last time, the poor fellow got too hot and had to remove his shirt for crissakes. I think they should ban this practice and have everyone keep their shirts on in yoga class. I suppose this whole deal is about exposing me to a whole lot of dark skin from 4' away, something I wouldn't ordinarily be exposed to for any length.

And the E. Indians continue to plague me at the construction site. Anytime I change a floor that I am working on, or re-assigned to a new task, they "happen" to arrive or else already be in place, jabbering away. I am down for three of these events this week, normally at least two more per week. In a stunt of high absurdity, they even parked themselves on ladders immediately outside the elevator doors that I was to exit from. The elevator operator had to ask them to pack it up. Again, more ladder games, this time from a high-prominence stalking ethnic subpopulation.

A good show at The Dream Cafe last week, and although I did not get any protracted staring from the performers, I got a lot of direct looks from one of the threesome. At one point he said, "I truly believe that good will prevail in this world..." and then shot a look at me, some 40' away against the back wall and in the dark. Like WTF: don't look at me for any kind of affirmation on that; all I know is sustained and relentless abuse as a mind controlled subject, and knowing my family was in on it from the get-go and are therefore are a bunch of sick-assed perfidious quislings who should be given the usual war time justice for such ilk.

My vineyard employer had a harvest party this Thursday; "no kids" said the invitational text, and lo, there were at least four of them parading by me with the usual (perp patented) "look-away" countenance. As to why I get kiddie-stalked all the time I have no idea, but I consider it the apogee of mental depravity, to send or bring one's children into stalk a lifetime victim of senseless and relentless abuse. For those parents who send their children on these missions, go fuck yourselves.

Said harvest party was about three hours and I met up with some old faces, my foreman, the owners (employers) and a few others. I met some new winemakers and industry folks, and enjoyed the company. An interesting looking woman I hadn't seen before was across the room, and eventually when she "happened" to look my direction from 15' away, she had this disparaging and nasty look. OK, I get it; you got my attention and then made sure I was roundly disappointed. I know this routine, and don't consider it too different than the occasions at the hair stylist school where I get my hair cut, when a personable and talkative stylist first cuts my hair. Some six weeks later on my return visit the same stylist won't even look at me, and makes a big point of been seen but not being in any way friendly. Same old thing; bait and change, usually for the worse.


And I get the sense that my perceptions of many of the stalking and stunts that so well known to me over these past 16.5 years of this berserk and overt abuse are getting remotely dithered by the perps. That is to say, my identification (or cognition) of the fraught and torturous reality that I have been kept in, (the stunts and incidents and their relationship to past patterns), and which is immediately recognizable and familiar to me, is now being cognitively interfered with. For example, the above mentioned kiddie stalking only "occurred" to me some hours after the event when normally I would of identified it right then and there. Which is to say, the perps have begun a new phase of deleting my knowledge of their abusive methods as they occur. Not a good sign, and likely has more ominous ramifications. Or put another way, the assholes won't allow me to identify their relentless and consitent stunts and supporting routines as they occur.

Anyhow, I should get this one posted for the week so I don't get backed up.