Friday, December 15, 2006

Storm in the Room

There are about 250,000 residents or small businesses without power from last night's storm in British Columbia, and some 1.5 million in the same boat in the states of Washington and Oregon. And there was my own variant customized for me, in my room last night, until I closed the window.
The window was open with a 2" space x 24" wide, and sits about 8' off the ground outside in the first story of a two story building. A three story building sits facing me, 12' away.

Into these impossible conditions, the perps decided that the storm had to visit me in my room, through the small 2" x 24" opening of my window. The wind moved around this room, and while also raining, they blew water droplets onto my face from 8' away. That is to say, the water droplets travelled laterally some 8' across the room and onto my face. Never before have I witnessed something so idiotic as this cover story for outside weather to reach me 8' inside a building. Anyhow, I got up and closed the window, and was greeted with an extra intense blast of light from the sodium arc lamp opposite in the adjacent parking lot. Then the perps kept me awake for an hour just to listen to all the noises, including the absurd water dripping noise, the water that was allowed to drop on my window sill and not be "swept" laterally across my room and onto my face.

Apart from that, it is another day of the operative herd, moving in and out of the building in serial fashion, in their noise flurries. Not one person can close the front door without shaking this room some 20' away, this from a door that does not bind or jam in its frame anymore.

The perps put on a blatant show of gangstalking by having their operative waiting outside the bathroom for me to finish my shower this morning. It was following this same operative having a different mission to create knocking and talking noise in the hallway while I was dressing, and lo, if he wasn't there in person lurking in the hallway. How he knew I was to exit is just as mysterious as his presence, and he is a second time lurker. In all likelihood, this asshole is someone I know quite well, and is a morph-over version who I cannot recognize. I have had plenty of roommates, tent mates, office mates and other shared facilities residents over the years to have a huge supply of operatives or shills to draw from. And I am begining to suspect there maybe more to all these consultants in town that what they appear, as that seems to be the favored occupation of many I know, and the government business activity is way down from 10 years ago. (Victoria is the capital city of the province of British Columbia).

Anyhow, the perps have been alternating their noise flurries and the all-quiets, and continue to do so, with room shaking being not optional. The masers and plasma games continue, as does blatantly mind-fucking me into getting the wrong bar of chocolate this morning, as I always run down the existing supply before getting the newer, and that was my intent, but "somehow" that got fucked with, and I wasn't allowed to know that until the chocolate was opened up. For the record, this seems to be mind-control of intent, monitoring and execution, and keeping me out of the loop even though I was actually undertaking the task. Again I repeat, these perturbations of fundamental habits and expressed intent in the form of total obliviousness in doing something contrary are either serious neurological impariments or else mind control from a remote location. To date, no one has served me any notice that there may be other interpretations. As far as I know, neurologists specifically look for habits and routines being different that before as well as physical interactions such as balance, coordination and grasping abilities.

There were the usual white and brown crumb arrivals in the night, and they even planted a white something that "arrived" at my lip after picking off and eating the white cheese melt in the fry pan that escaped from the tortillas when being reheated. This white item then fell from my lip and hand and dropped straight down my front. Another case of needing a outside the body color test as well as that was eaten.

This is post dinner, and before that, post nap. The perps pulled another 1600h to 1700h nap over the dusk onset time, no lights on, and no need for it with a 10.5 hours of sleep last night. Such things never happened before these assholes made themselves known to me.

They got me going at dinner time by sliding the hot fry pan on the burner, and presumably it would of hit the floor if I hadn't grabbed it. Later they tore a dinner plate out of my hand and clattered it onto other dishes and cutlery before I was allowed to contain it. And someone from outside made whistling noise while I was handling the tortilla on the cutting board; given the high siren count today, it was likely another high frequency stunt at a critical juncture for them. The assholes also put on a maser beam projecting from the olive oil after it had been poured into the frypan. I have often seen these straight-line grey beams in the past, but most current maser action is either the fuzzy grey balls or else the moving trails in a veil like scene over my entire vision.

It was the same tortillas tonight, and the perps created a three-fer; a new package of cheese, a new package of tortillas and a new tub of guacamole. I don't really care about those kind of "coincidences" and don't try to thwart them because they can so easlily mind-fuck my intentions anyway. Anyhow, these package opening coincidences are a big deal to the perps as they constantly manage them for the games they play with my food, and that of the packaging being concentrated in the garbage can.

The operatives are cleaning and banging their crockery in the bathroom sink next door. They may do this in shifts all evening like last time, or perhaps my derision will end this particular lunacy.

At least one more lift of dishes arrived for "cleaning" in the adjacent bathroom sink. Post cleaning, the operatives like to bash the same dishes together while further away in their respective rooms.

Now the overhead floor squeaking and clunking is thought stalking me; any unbidden thoughts, usually only those from left field now, are immediately noisestalked as they attempt to get a handle to control these as well.

Now it is back to siren noise and loud mufflered vehicles as I repair the typos and sabotage to this blog that happened in the meantime. I am positive all the typos were not missed, and that the perps sabotaged this file. They have been doing this since my last work days of 2002 when the fuckers would create new file copies with the same file names. Once I printed out the file listing that jerkaround ended real fast.

Another round of sirens, the third in the last 5 minutes, and they stagger the onset such that there is a cascade between each siren source. Most likely this is from their noise projection games, as there was only a 5% correllation between noise and source vehicles at the last residence in the apartment block overlooking the supposed thoroughfare they were travelling on.

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