Tuesday, January 30, 2007

Dropping In

The hallway "air freshener" spraying has erupted, this curious habit of putative housework that occurs outside my room and always (somehow) leaks into my room and up my nose.

This is the post lunch surveillance period and a unique one at that. I went to the "drop in" center as part of my requirements for subsidized housing, and had a lunch after the outing that I went on before that. As a consequence, I am getting a heavier dose of irradiation of this LCD display, akin to the post-hiking sessions before 06-2006

I went with the Government House landscape restoration group, who volunteer to pull invasive weed species from the wildland areas, the Garry Oak (aka Oregon White Oak) meadow areas. As this 20 acre property lies in the heart of a residential area, it is prone to infill from invasive exotic species. So this morning, I joined the crew of 10 or so to participate in the activity. For the most part I got a informative history of the wildland restoration activity, and that of the ecology of this area. Next time, I suspect, I will get to pull weed species. But of course it was an exalted gangstalking event, and with the "mental illness" label attached to this center, it is a continuation of the cast of strange characters that packed around me when I was incarcerated at the hospital.

There were the usual feints and games of walk ahead, then behind, walk between operatives, switch positions, and the background chatter while I was speaking and listening to the group leader, who has an impressive knowledge of the project. And too, there was the color of clothing games, one operative/patient in a crimson red that was kept in constant proximity, the hat show (e.g. bright colors through the glass, then directly, and then hat is taken off for another troll by for each of those two instances.) Other examples were the red hat, the black hat, the day-glo rainbow hat, the plum-pink on a native Indian variation, and a few other combinations that were evident. A blue-grey dressed gangstalker got ahead of us and put on the distance dependent color test for the 10 minute walk back to the drop-in center.

One of the more obvious stalking method changes is that they like to get more stalking time in, and also have them move inside a building, then outside and even through a doorway. The manager of the facility who I met last week in his office was adroitly positioned some 30' away, through the open door, visible from my inside table to him, outside in the gazebo. And the door was partially closed, so I would only see a narrow window of him. All part of the fuckery, and all the time.

Another feint/method was to have the ever present city streetsweeper out again, this time on the walking route to Government House. As mentioned before, it is normal early morning activity, when the streets are free of parked vehicles, and is now "showing" up in the residental areas that I inhabit, and now, those that I walk through.

And more joggers than ever before today; one each of the four legs of my perambulating to the drop-in center and then again, to/from Government House.

Aftwerward, I had lunch there, which is about the only way the perps can get eggs into me, as they have their food/color testing regimen, and they are resuming where they left off about three years ago when I last had egg as a protein source. One sandwich in white bread, the other with brown bread. Lunch time was a real crush, there had to be at least 40 of the "drop-in" patients/operatives when we got back, and this is in a old house living room and dining room area. And I got to aquaint myself with the "weirds", the ones who have half an excuse to stare at me, blabber on without consequence, and the rest of the strange behavoirs that the perps introduced me into early in this 4.5 year and running fuckover.

All to keep me circulating, especially in tight quarters where the "inadvertent" bumping is erupting with an ostensible reason. Though, it seemed to be especially prevalent at lunch, and why the lunch server had a leather backpack on has yet to pass some rationality test. All jolly fun for the perps and their games, and their aerialed highrise HQ (they tell me via thought planting) wasn't very far away in this location. It looks more like a military operation if the rooftop were the only criteria to judge it by.

And with some old house stained glass, there is a cover story to have a reddish splash of light on the floor, not far from me, one of the constant games that goes on, as anytime I close my eyes momentarily, the perps usually introduce a red flash as if it were from the underside of my eyelids.

As I write this the noise flurries have begun; and another fuckover in taking a shit, a three-fer; blocking the toilet, removing the plunger and forcing a shower to clean up. This time, and it is not any consolation, only one plunging was needed, not the 20 minutes or so of the last two times. And I had my noise flurries going on while on the crapper, the same ones that they had on me when in my room beforehand. Seemingly, some kind of noise to neural correlates mapping over two locations and activites. And as "I" typoed that last phrase, the"n" word, the overhead noise maker laid on a few clunks to piss me off and end this under-the-microscope session.

I am getting the post-mealtime gangstalk, overhead clunking and coincident zapping. And the perps make sure to piss me off enough to program my vocalized complaints about this fuckery. And more clunking as I write this.

The operatives are on the move again; egressing in serial fashion, 1/3 minutes, and now adding a squeak into the front door slamming which also "incurs" a room shake (mine), and for an extra bonus, they shake this LCD display for a few seconds longer than the furniture and room. Meanwhile, the overhead clunking thoughtstalks me at any uncontrolled thinking, as well as the tried and true intervals when I bookmark a web page, select a new web page display, decide to mouseclick etc. More of being under the microscope, and they want me to know that. And the typo sabotage is getting intense.

A more recent jerkaround that is incrementally gaining prominence is the touches and/or tickles as if my hand, or other, is touching something when it is not. And when I look to see if there is a real world source of the problem, the perps start slamming a nearby wall. Endless variations on noise and vibrations, all over any minutia that they deem noisestalkable.

More coughing and more ass jabbing plus a few other noises, the regular ones.

Another noise flurry; the pop can bashing and feet scuffing in the hallway have been added to the noise mix with the overhead pounding in there too. Masers are flitting about, especially if I vocalize my annoyance with mind-fuck typos that are dogging every word. One more thought, and another clunk. Time to stop encouraging this idiotic act.

A dull roar of the above mentioned noise flurries and some respite, though with at least two vocalizations over the hammering noise above me. All too repetitive. Time to blog off.

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