Sunday, October 29, 2006

Mind Block

There are many more instances of mind block of late than in my lifetime. Even looking at something doesn't remind me of what I need to do. This too, is a never-before BOH event, and I can assume that the perps have total control over all my ability to make the associations I once did. They are very close to total mind control, but are keeping up the noisestalking action.

Today, another manager/resident "disagreement" stunt broke out in the hallway, with all kind of ructions, and from the sound of it, even the police came afterward. At one point the manager said "don't bother the tenants", though I assume it doesn't apply to Mr Eviction Fiction, as he has kept up the overhead clunking and floorboard squeaking. The latter sound is expectable to a degree, but normal tenancy does not include dumping weights on the floor, or taking a hammer to it. Especially precisely overhead, which is usually the case. Later, the all-quiet order went out, and then it was thus; all part of the familiar pattern.

At breakfast the perps had me in a rage over peanut butter and jam being applied to bread; they modify the physical properties it have it flip and jump about, which is to piss me off, though I suspect my reaction is also governed by them. It is so consistent each morning, which tells me that this brown and red colored food combination is of extreme interest, which it has been for > 4 years now. They even had a brown vehicle drive up beside my room, with the driver eventually exiting to then stand beside his vehicle (wearing a brown coat, peanut butter colored), in an apparent arrangement to talk to Mr. Eviction-Fiction overhead. Then this gangstalker/vehicle combination departed and then made a repeat visit within 20 minutes for my shower (next door) and shaving time.

Anyhow, the perps let me get to sleep last night in a reasonable time, without the enforced restlessness that they have being applying to me. They did wake me up to seen their grainy light show, one that I have seen countless times, though I have no idea why I must be forced to see it. As mentioned before, the lighting conditions are as if one was looking at a very grainy black and white photograph. They are also pulling bed covers and sheets in the night; having me partially covered with sheets only, or covers only. This has been going on since I got here. The ostensible cause is that this single bed doesn't allow for the tidy placement and securement of my double bed size sheets and cover. So, with that excuse, the bedding routinely goes every which way in the night, as its movements are likely another facet of the perps' studies on clothing colors and my energetic interactions. And making the bed serves as the opening piss-off of the day, having me fight their application of graviatic control; e.g. covers drop from my hand, the bedding won't lie as if it were under conventional forces etc..

Anyhow, so far, another shut-in day, even with the extra hour; the usual "disinclination" to set off and get a newspaper has come over me. So more internet time, though it has its limits too as far as a meaningful activity. Though they did let me read some interesting articles on Conrad Black and his matrimonial travails and noisestalked me the entire time. Any subject can be noisestalked; reading his name, financial figures, exceptional activities ($250,000 bathroom modification on his private jet), other well known names, and so it goes. Every dot and comma is of consuming interest to the perps signified by their planted noises while I read.

The incandescent light in the bathroom was taken out, and by some dint of feigned idiocy, the bathroom window is blue plastic covered, and therefore the showering routine was conducted in a blue dinge. When I took my shirt off, the perps planted a red flash of plasma for me to see, all part of the endless experimentation that they are up to, and in no way contrite over their past fuckups that led to their nonstop harassment venality. Or at least, that is the way I read it, chasing me with PVC pipe all over town, and even zapping when I encounter the word itself. Endless and relentless fuckery.

I am back from Feral Family Dinner, having come back with my pack and briefcase and intending to stay there for the night. But I got a ride home as I need to do two bus trips tomorrow for my appointments. And the perps mind-fucked me again when reading the bus timetable, which they have done some five times in succession for the bus to my parents' place. The wrong bus, day of the week, or somehow; they make sure I am hung out to dry at the bus stop for a half hour when I intended it to be 5 minutes. This is another never-before, "misreading" bus timetables. This never happened before the sickos invaded my life, and it all centers around passing more vehicles past me in their color coordinated formations. They essentially create rush-hour traffic conditions on a Sunday afternoon for all the gangstalking vehicles that are on the road.

Then ditto for the bus trip; at least 40 "passengers" on the bus when I got on, an absurd number of passengers for a Sunday, 10 would be more realistic. There was the familiar setup of being only one seat availible, this next to a woman in a light blue coat. They had three cell phoning gangstalkers staked around me, and they were constantly on them. One was East Indian, the other a darker complexion, the latter very close to me in his large white jacket. Anyhow, there was the usual rotation of Asians, some chatting away in their native tongue, and some extra standees who made sure to block my view of the road ahead, even with availible seats. It would seem that they like to close down what I see at first, and then gradually allow me more viewscape. Which is not too different than the games of planting vehicles of particular colors outside my room in the adjacent parking lot. I also got the brown leather jacket in the face in one scenario on the bus, which doesn't surprise me, as leather seems to be a favorite gangstalking garment fabric owing to the metal salts used in the tanning process. Black leather is a gangstalker favorite.

Anyhow, my ex-wife was invited for dinner, and she brought a newly acquired copy of the Reverend John Browns' Self Interpreting Bible, which was first published 1778. As it turns out, it was a “best-seller” throughout the remainder of the 18th century and well into the 19th. The Reverend John Brown is my mother's 4x (?) great grandfather. I had a brief look at it, and it seems to be a very helpful tome in understanding the bible for all those who find the language and terms daunting as it has side panels that explain the stories in plain English. And even more helpful is a very thorough reference section in the latter third of the book which cross references names, stories, themes, alternate names, locations to distill even more meaning. I can understand why it was such an important bible version and wonder why it isn't in use now.

All that infernal wasted time I spent in Sunday School (5 years) with the teachings going over my head, and here is a version of the bible that makes sense in plain English, and even more ironic, written by an ancestor.

And plenty of topic and name dropping at dinner tonight, and even Ms. C got a query as to her whereabouts, as it has been >3 years since I have seen her. Funny that she sent a Halloween card two days ago, as she hadn't sent any for a year. Tonight duck was cooked, and I was the person to cut it up, and like last week, they all got out of the kitchen while I cut the fat off and carved the bird up. And there were some annoting perp stunts in gravity defying meat flicking and hanging chads of skin or meat that resisted being cut. More fucking trial. This did remind me of a time > two decades ago when my parents and I shared a whole fish 35lb halibut, and I did the cutting honors then. Little did I know I was being monitored up the asshole for some energetics properties about which I still have yet to understand.

This time post-dinner tea was metered to one cup each, and the perps mind-fucked me into thinking I had finished my tea when there was still one inch of it remaining. This has never happened before, and has mind-control written all over it. And lo, if there wasn't a tea leaf spilling on the brown kitchen floor before I departed.

More knee torquing torture again, time to go before I get extremely vexed.

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