Yellow Shirt Day

1135h
It will be a triple outing/gangstalk day today, likely because I am wearing a yellow-green shirt, one purchased under the auspices of the perps, long before I knew they had an obsession over the color of everything that I wear, touch, see, imagine etc. Yellow is an extreme problem color for the perps, which they make to be mine.

The first event was laundry, and later it will be a downtown trip with my mother to get tea and then lunch, and later, the infamous Chicken Run, the gangstalker extragavanza over purchasing and carrying one whole cooked chicken back to this room/cell.

The laundry was duly gangstalked by some older woman in a strange hat, no hair showing the entire time, who looked like Maggie Smith on prune juice. And of course she swept any locations that I was to walk to about a minute ahead of me. Not only was she a fish out of water, but putting her boot up on the seats of the chairs to "access" the magazines took the prize.

Her involvement included being on duty when the perps dumped some of my laundry detergent on the counter next to the bottle with a very tight lid. When I exclaimed my annoyance, there she was, "just" coursing by. And then a male MIB came to gangstalk my laundry folding activity. But that didn't stop two long blonde hairs from "showing up" in my laundry when I got back to my room/cell.

I got the bright yellow laundry bags gangstalk; they were carried just past me while seated, then the operative comes back in for a without-bags pass. It is not hard to see the patterns; all these "forgets" to serve as a reason for the operative to gangstalk a second time, and they like to do a reverse route if they can, and with minimal delay. Later in the laundromat, the blue bags were passed by me.

And two hours at least to get to sleep last night, with at least three interuptions in the night; all to hear the firecrackers, "residents" and other noisescape augmentations. The carpet was dry again in the morning, though with the window open, the "excuse" was that it was cool in the night, and that's why I awakened.

More of the white haired gangstalkers are getting backlit as "I" happen to encounter them. Sunlight behind them, and some kind of in situ plasmic manipulation of the lighting/shade conditions.

1445h
Back from my outing now, and it turned out to be a combination trip. All day the perps had me thinking that it was going to be a Chicken Run to the local grocery store, but instead it was acquired on the way back from lunch with my mother. This is the Save-On Foods source, my custom until 06-2006 until I sold my vehicle. So it was the pre-06-2006 source with a gangstalking from my mother. Which tells me that the perps are still working on their energetic correlates as to the source of chicken, The Market or Save-On Foods. This suggests that the perps are sucking wind after all the pitched rage battles in four years over chicken preparation, acquisition and sources.

First it was a downtown Victoria trip at noon time to get tea on senoir's day at Murchies for my mother, and then onto a local brewpub called Spinnaker's for lunch. I was duly gangstalked of course, and especially at the brewpub arrival; a grannystalker in her white and grey checkered coat was leading us and her party with her walker. (And the coat was duly displayed in full view some 8' away for the entire meal, so I assume it served as some kind of color reference for the rest of the dining area). That was the gangstalk theme today; arrange the gangstalker parties to split around us or them to walk between us. Fucking constant and obvious swarming. With my mother being a perp abettor, one could be sure her meandering gait and lack of apparent directionality was fully planned to the millimeter. (Arrange two fruit flies to bombard me). And the byword today is to have me repeat past stories in conversation with my mother, usually with some kind of dithering irradiation to cause me to make many more pauses in speech. This for a stories I already know. And of course there are specific loud and transient noises timed for these speech pauses. Been there, done that (for >50 years), why again? That is what I want answered right now.

The perps are putting on a mass of males as gangstalkers in all guises today; blondes (young women) are only for "energetics introductions" it seems. And also red vehicles of all kinds, some 4 at a glance passing through an intersection, and if counted through one traffic control cycle, 10 or more.

And at lunch they put three "reds" (gangstalkers with red clothing on) some 10 to 15' away, one being in pink. They also had slightly differing shades of grey hair on two men aligned in my vision, with the top of one peeking out from behind the other. Then the reds moved on after some 30 minutes, and then the perps put a vile red next to me, a woman with another grey haired male in a darker grey sweater, who gave me a stare at first.

I also got my black (African - Canadian) gangstalk today, two parties on on the street. Nearly every day I get one or two such gangstalk parties, and that is way beyond the norm for this town.

Also of note; at least three Deutschlander (German) gangstalk parties today, one being the waitress at Spinnakers. She with light red hair that looked dyed for the occasion. These "international" gangstalkers have their on days, like any of the demographics of the gangstalk guises, and the perps like them fresh off the boat, speaking their own tongue if there is a cover story, even if a piss poor one. (E.g. "tourists" at this end of town at this time of year; pu..uulease).

The hyperactive male demographic was another featured one today, a role served Mr Passport Tosser one time. Today it was the "commercial painter" act, nowhere near a job, who was beside us crossing the downtown street, and when done, he stands there putting on his looking all over act with head spinning, back twisting etc. The headphones around his neck were another giveaway. (His duty to be the extra obvious one today, and he could of been a slight morphover of a Seattle operative who also resurfaced as a "resident" at my last apartment building).

One of my thought-to-be colleagues from Nelson, BC "happened" to be turning a corner on the downtown sidewalk in front of me; I glared at him and he didn't acknowledge me, which is unusual. All my thought-to-be colleagues have plenty of wrinkle lines since I last saw them, and I have been age regressed as if I was the age when I first met them in 1986. He was one of the many gifted with a transfer to Victoria within the BC government, and there were quite a few who got these benefits then, circa 1990.

A new perp trick is to jab me in the anus; this has happened at least five times today and I don't appreciate it one bit. Ditto while taking a shit yesterday; as if I was unloading undigested hay. Bad enough to have the hallway noises ramp up while taking a crap, have the toilet plugged and then need to take a shower to clean up their mess they plastered on me. Not enough harassment? We will now jab you in the anus at the same time. And don't forget who created the shit/brown problem for themselves and are doing this to extricate their past traumatization damage that does not bother me at all. Another call for justice; I get to desecrate the grave of the supreme depravee who initiated that traumatization stunt and also get to scream in the face of the like asshole who is decided to remediate their problem (in the form of some deep neural condition) without my permission.

Another perp torture; somehow causing me to think that my legs have no sensation, and are somehow disassociated. This one is getting ripe for a raging match in short order. Too bad I don't have my running gear in this cell/room and give them a demo that I want to know that my legs belong to me. Fucking sick as it is weird.