Thursday, November 16, 2006

Only Four Gangstalkers on Laundry

That is, four who "happened" to arrive a minute or so ahead of me extracting the load from the dryer. This time is was a metered extract; first the towels to fold and put into my carrier duffle bag, then the pair of jeans to do likewise, and then everything else that gets piled in and sorted and folded at my place. And they made sure to sweep (walk through) where I was standing, and then the same gangstalker was in his vehicle when I exited the laundromat with headlights aimed on me, and sweeping ahead with his vehicle of where I was to walk (parking lot to sidewalk). And, more than likely, it was someone who knows me, and was morphed over for the event. I had my suspicions, but that is all, though the fact that I was allowed to know (or it may have been planted), does suggest that it may have been who "I" (usual caveat, me or a planted notion) thought it was. Confused? Try living this where someone can read every thought, has better access to your history, and has long followed me in following their games.

There were other gangstalkers coming and going, with brown colored clothing being featured today. There were the usual strings of color coordinated vehicles ordered the same distance apart over the three blocks that I walked, and even a navy blue colored tractor trailer parked on the wrong side of the road blocking the entrance to the home renovations store nearby. Just the normal exercises of rampant harassment inanity. A few ambulatory gangstalkers were in the hot demographics; obesity, black (race), and geriatric. One blonde woman in black clothing on my way to the laundromat, likely as the starting reference energetics benchmark. And did she really have to show me her teeth while waiting at the traffic light to cross the street? In the perp perspectives, the answer is yes, for reasons best known to them.

And my just ahead-of-me rooming house "tenant" was on duty, in the identical set up as yesterday; arriving in his light blue vehicle outside the building and entering about 5 seconds ahead of me. Considering that I went out only once (so far) per day, that is an amazing coincidence. They must be some kind of residual energy remaining on a person from the color of vehicle that they are driving.

Before I departed with my laundry, a mid-blue hatted gangstalker came to hang around as a coffeetime natterer outside my window. She was still there, some 25' away when I left the building, and at the very first road crossing, a same mid-blue color vehicle turned the corner ahead of me crossing the street. And a light blue vehicle in the adjacent parking lot when I got back from the laundromat. Seemingly, the perps are getting some kind of leverage from this color, and are likely attempting to piggyback other colors with it, going through their list of increasing problematic colors; green, red, orange, yellow and then brown. This is my theory as to why the perps are obviously populating blondes (women) around me in conjunction with other less regarded demographics.

But the color black (technically not a color, but an absence of color) is their first choice in difficult or new circumstances; I see that a black raincoat is draped on the stair banister outside the bathroom, only 6' away from my room, and was there last night, and remains undisturbed for all the stated vigilance of the manager in not having unclaimed belongings left in public spaces in this rooming house.

The perps have me in a screaming mad state, and to add to it, they took out my Firefox browser, my all day, every day internet software with 1,000's of my bookmarks. Before this they kept jerking around with the tortilla making, dishes and counter cleaning. Their favorite move was to splash guacamole on every edge they could find; the edge of the plate, tortilla and squeezeout, the spatula, forks etc. And they have my reaction mode to be totally irritable and intolerant of these constant incursions. Anytime I complain they launch spittle out of my mouth and onto food or the counter. They shorted me a tortilla in the package of six, and with an odd amount, one gets tossed out, as I use two for this dish in this modified one burner/hot plate method. About every three months I get one of these games, which would be their method of forcing completion of a new package, or the opening of a new one, to their prescribed timing with other foods.

This is getting fucking insane that I am sabotaged over making the same dish I have been doing every day for over four years. Anyone party to this continued venality is one sick asshole, never mind the ones that plan and execute the mind-fucking that goes on, and all the unconventional gravity games to cause these constant assaults on conventional physicality that I deal with all fucking day, every day. Fucking sick. Give me back my browser you asshole.

And an reboot brings me back my browser, obviously a well coordinated exercise. And it is always interesting to note as to what they have me surf to on the internet during these managed episodes of heightened emotion. It was, the TT Brown Forum, where a keen and articulate group dissect the past life of TT Brown and his accomplishments.

As I have remarked before, my mother's maiden name is Brown, though as far as I can tell, there is no relation as he is a third generation Brown of Zanesville, Ohio. My mother is from Bury St. Edmunds and I am a first generation Canadian. And there doesn't seem to be anything similar in the way of comparative IQ; him, a genius, me with the ADD related learning disorder, very likely created by the assholes grinding my ass all day, before they made themselves overt. These learning diabilities were picked up in testing in 1960 and 1962 and neither parent told me about them. I only discovered this when I was directed to pick up a copy of my school records for my then shrink, though as far as I can tell, she never made any use of them. And that too was likely a planned event; demonstration of parental negligence for no known reasons, save this depravity that sits on my shoulders as I type this.

As if the perps haven't pissed me off enough today, they went right back at it by scripting a fruit fly to bombard me repeatedly while eating chocolate (re perp's brown problem), and to even land on the chocolate itself. Then they scripted me into a rage reaction to then create a cover for the tea that somehow slopped out of the mug and some chocolate crumbs that separated from the rest of the bar. There hadn't been any fruit fly "assaults" for at least two weeks, and this kind of dizzy and unchararcteristic flight pattern is unlike any fruit fly I have ever known, before the perps went overt. And there is no fruit in my place, and no remnants in the garbage either. And in all of that, they let "me" nail it dead, and very likely that too is imbued with significance for the assholes that created the precursor events. All to suggest that sending in a fruit fly to harass someone as a surrogate for an organization large and influential enough to direct governments at the national level, investing billions of dollars in harassing selected victims, and yet won't show up in person and defend their actions. The Supreme Gutless Wonders of Relentless Venality; hopefully a fruit fly serves as their mascot of fortitude on their coat of arms.

And from what I hear in the hallway, that characterization earned me the second hallway "freshening" via spray can, and the smell, which I loathe, will seep into my room is short order and up my nose. (It did).

The game of having a fruit fly morph into a maser image was also played; it is a regular item for the perps it seems. The fruit fly was in front of my LCD panel, then it vanished to be replaced by a squiggly fuzzy trail, the maser image. Anyhow; this is really only a log entry, though I suspect there are some deeper games in all this, say, the neural energetics of one object and how they change when immediately replaced by another.

It is light level fluctuation time; it is nearing dusk and the clouds have moved in and are somehow "causing" the light to fluctuate enough to be very uncharacteristic of any normal weather and diurnal conditions. And it is likely the entire gig is to then force me to turn on the incandescent light to balance it out, and once done as I came to learn, they caused it to be excessively yellow at first. More of the routine banality that passes for normal in this Potemkinic netherworld.

And it gets sillier yet; the >10th siren today (a Thursday note) and this one came with a 1960's siren sound concurrently. And I can only assume that the persps are attempting to map the long-ago associations of that old siren type to the current one. Fucking pathetic that they won't come out of the closet and resort to this juvenility.

It is the hour of overhead floor pounding, like weights were being dropped on the floor above me, and it often "arrives" at this time. Being dispatched to take a pee, put the dishes away no doubt aids in the perp's cause. A gangstalker was on the stairs waiting for me to exit the bathroom, there were no sounds of approach which I would of heard, and this bearded dude then climbs the stairs as I am in the hallway. I turned on the halogen light once I got back to my room, and this is also consistent with what I did yesterday. The halogen light seems to be one of their problems, but as always, whatever it is and no matter who it is attributable (if anyone), it becomes mine.

This must be the moment of intense scrutiny; a siren cascade is on. This is where the noise of two or more emergency vehicles are combined as offsets; as one siren cycle is winding down, another one is starting up. They also put a deep noted exhaust sound into the mix to "round it out" or have it appear authentic. Never mind that there are more emergency sirens today than any Seattle weekend day that I ever knew. At the last location the perps would pull this same act, and there was no apparent source as I could see the thoroughfare street on which the putative emergency vehicles would be travelling.

And as part of this noise flurry, the outside stairway tromping has started up, and the perps are applying some kind of pressure to my forefeet, through my shoes, which is becoming more prevalent this week.

My dinner is eaten and the dishes are done; this is prime gangstalk time as they don't yet understand the energetics of digestion, or mine at least, and haven't the gumption to ask me to cooperate. The next door bathroom noises started up, and they copied the last round in there, before dinner. Slamming the plastic toilet seat with a simutaneous zap to the head wasn't appreciated in the least, but in this ongoing purgatory, they don't care.

I wonder how many of the shills would of cooperated if they knew how venal and sick minded these assholes really are. And if they are the same gang that likes to sponsor and create "natural" disasters, I suspect they would find even less shills to cooperate. Unless it is by threat. The overhead floor pounding is going on as I write this, so this bogging must be very interesting to these sickos. And my voice has morphed into a gravelly croak, and that too spells active jerkarounds in progress.

The minute I put the earmuffs on the perps hit me with some kind of penetrative sound and a simutaneous pulse to the head. Which amply demonstrates that any measures that don't fit their script are immediately deterred with their arsenal of unconventional methods.

A yawning attack it seems, replete with saliva that somehow "pops out" of my mouth. (And as I type this, more yawning with simutaneous vision impairment). The perps have been known to alternate yawning attacks with sneezing attacks. And to add to the within-headspace commotion/noisescape, a series of swallowing noises came on concurrently in between yawnings. It is fucking absurd to be treated this way.

It seems that the perp's interest might be my current 9/11 reading may have inspired the noise, yawning and swallowing activity. It is fascinating, as I never wanted to enjoin in the state sponsored conspiracy story because I had enough crap of theirs to deal with. And yet the perps kept putting notions in mind for me to study this possibility. Eventually "I" succumbed to investigating some of the sites, and it is essentially true, the official story doesn't hang together. It seems it was allowed to happen on many fronts, especially where the FBI had warnings from one of the flight schools as to what their foreign student's intent really was. Anyhow, this is not the place to exhaustively detail why the 9/11 unfolded as it did, but when major evidence, the steel beams, are shipped out of the country in short order, it does make one very suspicious.

The chatty gangstalkers have arrived outside to keep up the banter from my right side. There was some hallway action on the left side, but not of the same duration (10 min.) and volume. This would be in the near dark on the stairway of the opposite building some 12' away. This is the hot spot for all these aggregations, and it seems, nearly anytime now. And to accompany my 9/11 reading that has been prescribed for me. I came to learn that while having the ear muffs on, the regular noises, say vehicle door closures, are coming through louder than if I had them off.

Another adjacent toilet seat slamming and a simutaneous zapping through the earmuffs. Time to end today's venality inanity.

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