Saturday, March 31, 2007

The Glass Bashing Operative

The seeming "resident" is timing his glass bottle bashing act from 15' away in another room to the precise moments a web page displays, or when I click the mouse button. I also have a muted version of the same overhead, the pounding noise every so often with the usual impeccable timing to the same events as glass bashing.

This is the post-lunch digestion period, and the perps seem to be ramping up the noise, after carrying on with at least 10 sources beforehand. In a rare day-to-day repeat, I was reading the newpaper at the same time as yesterday, a pre-lunchtime session that was heavily noisestalked as to the special words that I would read in the paper, plasma events, page turning (color display), and page re-orienting as the shadows across the page seemed particularly annoying. Naturally there was the usual herding of the operatives, woo-hoos (like what on a Saturday morning), and the yellow extension cord running the length of the hallway. And even room shaking where there was no ostensible reason, another progression into the "no-cover" realm.

I went to collect my prescription at the LD store, though it wasn't as heavily gangstalked as it usually was. Today it was the East Indian woman in front of me, then a Caucasian woman in a blue green anorak plugged up the other till at the Rx counter, and yammered on in a display of being the obstinate customer. More of these verbal feints are erupting around me these days. After some two minutes of waiting, and this yammering act, the East Indian woman had to circle around to another set of counters where the prescriptions are being filled. These are topped by transparent plexiglas panels, and it would seem, this woman was being "demo-ed" in both a direct line of sight (in front of me), and then behind the plexiglas (15' away). A father-like comportment gangstalker was standing around in the center of all this, while the East Indian woman circled around him. And the perps made sure that there was plenty of through the plexiglas viewing of this father-like asshole before the woman moved. The did this by arranging the heads of the pharmacy technicians on either side of this assholes head, framing it in effect, a method noted in a past blog when they did this on a brother look-alike. And as my sister-in-law is East Indian, this woman could well of been a morph-over of her. It gets complicated to some degree, but the golden rule of gangstalking is to place the same individuals who have I interacted with in the past, especially family.

And I am sure that it is no fluke I have a plexiglas window for my room, as it seems that glass gives the perps problems. I suspect if I got a quantity of powdered glass that the perps would have a difficult time with their remote assay activites. And they do like to have fiberglas boats, canopies and other objects around me.

At least the perps let me out of the store without an orchestrated line at the checkouts, and another Big Girl was on duty. This is a first at this store, as they have been adding their gangstalkers in front of me continuously for five years now.

This particular freak show didn't have any outstanding jerkarounds today, nor major stunts. They put on some roadside particle board furniture for their brown color reference purposes, and more ambulatory gangstalkers about, but this usual beat was quieter than usual. The vehicular gangstalking was nuts; four red colored vehicles at a glance at some intersections, and three times that for a full cycle of the traffic controls (lights). And they created a Saturday N. to S. commute by putting strings of 15 to 20 vehicles in file, equi-spaced, with all headlights were on. Some 300 vehicles were put on today by my estimate.

The dogshit stunt was still in play, plastered on the sidewalk outside a dance clothing store, exactly at the corner of the nearest intersection. What was pure blatant mind-fuckery was that it didn't "occur to me" that this would be highly irregular in any normal circumstance. This tells me that all my ability to notice the ongoing fuckery, feints and stunts is controlled by the perps, which is what I have suspected for the past 12 months.

Here is a quote I thought of some relevance, put here for the record. (c) 2005 Kurt Vonnegut Extracted from A Man Without a Country: A Memoir of Life in George W Bush's America, from here
What can be said to our young people, now that psychopathic personalities, which is to say persons without consciences, without senses of pity or shame, have taken all the money in the treasuries of our government and corporations, and made it all their own?
I am being subjected to a fuck around over the margins (re above), and the control buttons have been removed from the blog menu and thereby invoking the classic stunt of no margin control again. All to have wacky margin spacing much like the ROB magazine in Friday's Globe and Mail newspaper.

Another round of noise has started up, and the yellow extension cord has been lying in the hallway for no apparent purpose for the entire day. This has been a common method of attempting to measure more energies from metals which are preferred it seems.

At my tea and chocolate event, I was noisestalked on two sides by a loud nattering woman while eating the substance. They are still on herding operatives out the front door, and slamming the door as the cover story for shaking this room 20' distant. The overhead pounding and squeaking has been going all afternoon, though muted somewhat. As before, the noise is timed for web page changes, selection by mouse click, and the endless Windows select, copy and paste actions. Even the glass bashing act is stepping up to these situationally applied events. As for the mystery as to why he has glass bottles to bash all day and evening long isn't getting attended to. Another of the examples where the cover story is dispensed with. I am now getting coughing and hacking outside my door, as if someone is standing there, as there was no movement of anyone in the proximity of my room.

Masers and plasma activity has been constant, and it looks as if I am in a soup of blackish trails that all move together, save the odd zingers (aka "floaters") that come flying through my field of view.

I am getting something mysteriously jabbing my leg as I type, and of course I cannot see it as the assholes know it is under the keyboard tray as I type this. There seems to be an all-quiet order out, save the woman talking outside my door in the hallway, and jingling her keys.

Earlier this morning before I set off for my trip to the drug store, the perps placed a splinter in my left big toe that required removal before I could comfortably walk. This seemed to be a stunt to have my fight hand fingers touch my left toe for some kind of energetics testing and remote assay.

More glass bottle bashing, and the frequent "users" of the next door bathroom who don't do anything except stand there and then flush the toilet.

Earlier there was a 20 minute set-to between the manager and a woman tenant who is being evicted today. I am somewhat jaded about these as they are arranged to be more loud remonstrative noise designed for my emotional part of the brain, the limbic system, to be activated while the perps learn how to fuck it. And sure enough, they picked the primetime of when I was washing, rinsing and drying the frypan, an object of intense interest to the perps. So much so, that they broke the last frypan and forced the purchase of this new model, as noted in a past blog.

The Saturday night woo-hoos have started up, and presumably some sports game on TV is serving as the deemed rationale. Meanwhile I am getting coughing outbreaks starting up outside my door, and the odd faux puking as well (noise, but no actual outcome). The timing of these, as it is so often, is for page changes, Windows actions, recollections that I might make, or other uncontrolled thoughts the perps cannot yet fuck with. Normally I get multiple actions in the latter case; overhead clunking, hallway gangstalkers who visit the bathroom next door to make yet more noise, and often glass bottle bashing and coughing. The maser activity is constant. And "for tonight only" I am getting some kind of piercing transient pain in my left temple that can get to the annoying level. And the odd maser strike on my lip, nose or eyelid, the usual placements for this sick minded fuckery.

More head pain, but they backed off when I complained out loud, though that can be changed anytime.

Time to call this a posting, and blog off. Another dull day with the masers, noisestalking and the rest of the phenomenon the cast of sickos have arranged.

Friday, March 30, 2007

Furnace Fuckery

For the second time this winter, the furnace stopped working in the night, leading to a chilly sleep which the perps woke me up a number of times to remind me. Then it "got fixed" this morning and came on. This time, there was no snow outside, just new navy blue colored graffiti on the opposite parking lot wall, 30' away. These are exciting events to the perps.

Another new embellishment is to sound the glass bottle bashing noise as if it were a chime to follow any unbidden or uncontrolled thought. When reading book reviews last night, I made a mental association with an recent historical event and how it might have been perp sponsored and where it fit into the objectives that I am familiar with, and immediately following that thought (assuming it was mine), the glass bashing act sounded off, as if it were like a wedding where the glasses are used to egg on another kiss of the bride and groom.

Then again this morning, while blowing my nose in the shower, there was another glass bottle bashing noise that was adroitly created to be overheard the shower and noise blowing noise.

I got the day of the week jerkaround again; the notion was planted from getting up that today was a Saturday. Even seeing the postwoman did not convince me or cause me to question this planted assertion. Only by purchasing the newspaper and comparing its thinner version to that of Saturday was I let in on what I would ordinarily know. As mentioned before, the perps first learned how to do this in late 2004 or early 2005, and had my brother set me up for a test about then. Interestingly, he did not tell me that the day of the week was incorrect after I gave him the planted version. That is why it is the First Feral Family as I see these sick minded abettors.

After getting quite the barrage of forced coughing and hacking from my "neighbors", the assholes are laying it on me. Coughing outbreaks for no reason. And now, at every forced typo and its repair, the same assholes are thudding the ceiling overhead. I reckon the front door slamming and the room shaking have led up to overhead pounding as the thin edge of the wedge, the noise of first resort.

Another pair of coffee break natterers arrived outside my room to chat while I cleaned, rinsed and dried the frypan, the object of intense interest to the perps. Past readers will know that the perps broke the last frypan about four weeks ago, and forced the acquisition of a new one, this time without a layer of copper in the base, aluminum only. Perhaps the increased frequency of copper colored gangstalk vehicles is related to this. Anyhow, I have done plenty of house wiring for the perps to monitor me then, so why now? Likely because they are still sucking wind if creating a dumbshit prank like the ceiling leak in the yoga class is where they are at (yesterday).

I got my usual freak show when walking to the grocery store earlier; it was "do rag" day. There were two such cases when the norm is none, done up in the current gangstalk colors of choice, one in red, the other in white. In both cases they had no head hair, belonging to the very common skinhead contingent of the perps. Other weird sidewalk behavior was having store worker in a green apron and yellow shirt walking toward me some 25' away, and then he stops at 15', turns around, shoots me an extended glance, and then retraces his steps ahead of me. All the while he had a plasterer's scraper in hand, and he had nothing to do with that trade going by his clothes. More absurd bullshit to entertain me I suspect.

At the grocery store they put a stepladder in front of the exit door, forcing me to go through the entrance among the two "plastic bag men" that was arranged around me. It is getting absurd on this account, as they arrive in the store with white no name plastic bags, and then loiter around the exit. One in-store gangstalker who then "happened" to be outside when I was departing had somehow also acquired a white no-name plastic bag for continued ambulatory gangstalking on the sidewalk, doing the dither walk so I would catch up and pass her by.

More pounding and shaking of this room; then hallway sourced squeaking also erupts as the high frequency "dessert" course that is also served by extra squeaky brakes from outside, key jingling, whistling and a few other sources that are common. The other noise that is playing with greater predominance today is motorcycles, both varieties of noise sources, the 2 stroke and the 4 stroke variants. It is fucking absurd. My outside coffee break natterers have arrived just when it is time to put the kettle on. Now that I am allowed chocolate again, this must be a big event, the first 100g bar in a week.

There was an increase in the noisescape during and after tea and chocolate, and it is continuing in a ongoing way during this digestive period. There have been some maser and plasma games as well, some smell jammed into my nose, and few others I cannot recall.

Another recent development is to have the "residents" this putative rooming house engage in grunts, groans, sighs and other short gutteral vocalizations. I suspect the reason is because it takes longer to mentally process these sounds, even if it is all faked for me to hear. Or, it serves as the cover to stop me from immediately discarding this noise type as spurious. Either way, the perps are having their operatives engage in this kind of behavior, as it is being widely practiced of late.

I am been rendered as tired at the moment; the heavy eyelids and dociled cognitive abilities, as if I need any more of that when a lifetime of learning disorders was arranged for me from birth. Meanwhile, the maser trails are flitting about in my vision with the odd "zinger", the fuzzy grey balls that flit about in parallel formation in my central vision. Just what I need, more impairments.

My TI pal from Nanaimo seems to have opted out of the daily emails; she "doesn't understand" that I have to live my life differently given that I am under assault every second. She gets gangstalked in public mostly, though I am sure there a few other games that they might pull on her under the banner of "normal'. Anyhow, the separation of confidences is nothing new, and either by mind control or some other means, this follows the pattern. And as I see it, it is just as well, as it seemed she really didn't make an effort to engage in a new perspective. And the acid test of a true TI (so far) is, do they read this blog? If no, no matter what excuse if they have access to a PC, then they are acting for some other party. Otherwise, they are likely to be a legit TI. And it is most odd that nearly everyone, from health care workers, family and purported TI's do not read any of this blog, and have also ignored other documents I have written that detail this depraved harassment and psychotorture. Nothing new there, but it is amazing that they don't ever want to talk about my experiences and engage in discussing them. There were some other tip-offs, but I will leave it at that. It is likely as bad as the espionage business as to who one trusts.

The post-dinner operative herding has moved out the front door, serial fashion, and most of the noise is from outside now. And while that is going one, the sickos are jerking with my knee and applying some kind of pain into it, with the pain culminating in intensity when the noise is loudest. And if that weren't enough distraction, they are supplying some kind of undefinable cognitive dissonance, the only description is that I feel "odd" and ill at ease. They have ramped this up while I am reading about alien abduction research. And if it is allowed, I will detail some of it here. There is no telling what I am going to recall any more, as some details are immediately lost, yet another event that never happened before all the harassment began.

And as the keyboard moved some, owing to letting both hands off, the self-returning keyboard surface was moving, and then the overhead squeaking noise started for that fraction of a second. It is unbelievable as to how many of my actions, thoughts and observed detail result in instant noisestalking.

More glass bottle bashing; this was timed with a body zap and a mini-blackout where I wasn't allowed to see this LCD display for a second or two, as by then I had clicked on the mouse and something very weird was added into the Firefox Bookmark Manager when I had intended a deletion. Now the water noise has been added into this noise flurry along with a next door bathroom visitor who kicked the shared heating vent, which happens about 50% of the time. The obligatory toilet flushing and then the operative is done. And now, a "loose hair" is dangling in my vision field, a common perp pissaround of late. I routinely get 10+" blonde hairs on my carpet, and I don't quite know what their fascination is with hair, save shaving it off the males for predominant skinhead operatives to be readily identified.

A parade of operatives, this time past my door and into the bathroom, only 3' away or less, on the other side of the wall. As always, they do nothing but stand there in sentry pose (I assume), and then flush the toilet and then bolt out of there. Every so often as I trip across the "noisestalked words du jour", some other noise will also erupt; either the glass bottle bashing act, or an electronic sound of some kind.

And there seems to be some kind of device in the hallway as they often make adjustments to it, making the same noise each time. At a location three residences ago the same noise occured at about the same time of day. I assume if I looked out of my door and into the hallway, the device will just disappear, as this has happened before with actual gangstalkers. Anyhow, some relative quiet for a bit, and then another iteration of noise flurries, masers, plasma display, typo fuckery, smells etc. will erupt.

I am getting more reading interference; the maser "floater" sits exactly where my right side line of sight is, and follows along as I read. This is extremely annoying and essentially ends my activity and forces me to do something else, like more blogging. The perps have also been putting more momentary colors on this mostly black on white web page. My reading content is about abductions by aliens and military, both of which seem to have much in common with the constant harassment experience that I get. I am not sure which is better. I have a fellow TI, James Marino, to thank for the mention of this site.

In the case of Katharina Wilson, author of Alien Jigsaw, she gets many re-visits and some unpleasant experiences, even rape. At one time she was a college level music student, and in her final year, the aliens appeared to have dithered, or deleted her abilities to feel connected to the music. She knew this was done purposely, though there appears to be no certain reason except "other plans', most of which relate to being re-abducted and re-examined in her adult life. Ms. Wilson details her thoughts on the alien/government involvement as well as the associated overarching mind-control research imperative in her Part 6 of Project Open Mind.

And she posits some interesting questions as to the commonality of the abduction experience and that of mind control, and wonders if they are sides of the same coin. Speaking as a subject on the latter topic, she has it exactly right. Mind control is used to docile and decieve the abduction victims, and much of the alien's pre-2006 research likely focussed on bettering their mind-control abilities. There are other objectives being sought as well; she mentions the incident of yellow diarrhea testing that they put her through. Past readers will find a rich level of content related to taking a shit and the commensurate harassment over this. Or, use the search function in this blog to find out more.

I can say now, especially after 2006, that the perps are 0.001% away from total mind control. As mentioned in past blogs, my tip-off is the consistent pattern of being noisestalked, masered, plasma-ed, etc. should any uncontrolled thoughts come to mind. The reality is that I am getting less and less noisestalking and the rest of it, with the flip side being that this blog is now from a total perp script, and they are allowing me to "stay in character", save situational mind-fucking over recall or other short re-directions that they wish to inflict upon me. (An example is above, being mind planted that today was Saturday when it is Friday).

And I found an interesting passage from the above site, detailing the recollections of an abductee named Lisa,

In September of 1995, Lisa reported a "scene" in her journal. She was being shown a blackboard and a "clean-cut, white male" wrote the word "TEHRAN" on the board and above this word he drew a triangle. The man barked at Lisa, "Don't fall asleep -" and Lisa told him that she wasn't falling asleep, that she was listening and paying attention to him. "The man then drew a line from the word 'TEHRAN' toward the left to signify which direction it will go," Lisa said. Then two or three men came into the room "to get me...they were in business was the CIA wanting me to do more work for them. I went blank after this."
All I hope is that the current hostage crisis in Iran, (UK Marines were captured and held), is not the incident that brings the above mentioned possibility to happen. (And it is interesting the noisestalking that erupted as I wrote this last paragraph- perhaps this is a setup).

Another observation of Katharina Wilson's is her prediction that the abduction activity will end;
The alien abductions will not continue in perpetuity. There will come a time when they will stop and I believe it will be sooner rather than later; perhaps even within the next ten years.
I concurr, and in doing so, I am adding in the plight of the Targetted Individuals, those who are harassed mercilessly for the nonconsensual experimentation that I, and many others, are being subjected to. I sense the perps have at least one more year of harassment planned for me, and possibly two. Then they will likely leverage this into surveilling and monitoring others for a more complete picture of the "psi energies" of human experience. This would be another three years, which leads to the question, what are they going to do with all this knowlege?

The assholes are noisestalking me reading literature from the Freedom of Though Foundation, and so I thought it best to cease that and not goad the assholes anymore.

Time to blog off and hit the hay for another day of freak shows, harassment, enragement, vexation and the rest of the usual.

Thursday, March 29, 2007

Pounding and Zapping

I got my overhead pounding with a coincident zapping, the first of the day, and an early one at that. The sickos were on an all-quiet order, and then the overhead hammering started up like a bolt from the blue. It is fucking sick that I am not allowed to have an uncontrolled thought.

The above pounding and zapping was the opening salvo of a noise flurry that has erupted. The operatives are herding in and out of this building, slamming the door (all of them), which is the assigned "cause" to then shake this room, some 20' away. Plus, they are all wearing army boots or something like it, as the tromping noise in the hallway and stairway is nearly identical. I wouldn't be surprised if they were wearing uniforms as well, for color continuity. Added to the noisescape were the ubiquitous banterers outside, maser and plasma action (a constant), and a few others like loud mufflered vehicles trailing off in the distance. That latter item is also becoming ubiquitous, as the have at least one per every five minutes or less, and often in cascades, much like the siren games that have abated some of late.

Yoga was partially sabotaged today; a plumbing leak soaked some chairs and books, and later moved onto the corner of this dropped portion of the ceiling, almost into the class area. A bucket was procured with a towel in it, and as if I didn't get enough of this at my room, the drip noise started up, and then it developed a back beat to it, to add more sonic variability. Later, the perps added some additional noise that was similar, but had an origin in closer to me for yet more fuckery purposes.

As I see it, this had noise value, as it could serve to correlate some of the dripping noise I hear in my room, to there, at yoga. Also, running water seems to offer a greater advantage for measuring the energetics of line of sight activity. Last week, the perps opened up a geyser from the fire hydrant at this one intersection that they seem to go nuts over with all manner of gangstalking and other feints. (Pandora and Cook for locals).

And I am sure with the perp's foot fetish still playing, the fact that I had to move my runners out of harm's way to prevent any water damage was also a perp bonus. That I keep my runners routinely in the area where the leak occured, and no one else does, suggests that the perps had this planned from the getgo, at least 6 weeks or more.

And as I "happened' to be the last person to arrive at the yoga class, even if 5 minutes early, I was dislodged from my usual location and moved 3' east of it. And today, they had me between two grey-hairs, one the recent male, and the other who normally habituated my left side, a woman on my right.

Another perp bonus from the leak was to have the light turned off with all the class present, as they love to play with lighting. In the latter minutes of the class, the perps put on their highly reflective vehicle trim games, with the astonishing amout of reflection coming directly at me from the parked vehicles outside. It is simply amazing how much "activity" goes on and yet the assholes won't come out of the closet.

There was the usual parade of vehicles outside of the yoga class; white, deep red and some blues which are playing big of late. There are two same colored blue vehicles outside this room as I type, down from three earlier. The numbers of shiftless males outside has dropped some, and now they are into wearing uglier colors, e.g. yellow and bright reds. When I first set off for my one minute commute to the yoga class, they put the ubiquitous WIN charity dudes on a side by side lead-ahead gangstalk, one with a mid-brown top, and one with a similar grey scale grey colored top. These are the same two who are in constant hangaround mode, as they operate under the cover of loading and unloading the WIN charity's trucks, some 50' from here. They might be morphovers of people I know, but if they are, there are no similarities that I am allowed to percieve.

I am getting more cessation of hostilities mind plantings of late, and accordingly I am getting pissed about this as they have all been lies. The excuse is that the moving will turn into a fairy tale ending, and I will live happily ever after. It is just a more tenacious jerkaround, the game of suck and fuck, where nothing comes out as planned. And often, some of the shills will drop hints of "wonderful things will happen" (because of the upcoming move). Been there, done that.

I got an in-room visit from the housing coordinator moments earlier. He seems to have more getup and go than the last two combined. It is all very strange to have three in the last month, but as I do all the work, I really don't care a whole bunch. The perps gave me a creaky labored voice for the occasion, and didn't let up. Normally they put on a throat clearing to change my voice as the cover story, but this time it was all the same. After he left, they then put on red plasma flashes and clouds that followed me wherever I looked. Thankfully this only lasted for 30 seconds or so, but it was disorienting in the least. The outside natterers also arrived for the last of his appointment, and served as a bridge after he departed. The overhead clunking also was put on while he and I were in conversation, no doubt there was something that was thinking of that wasn't controlled by the assholes, hence the situational noisestalking.

The post-dinner digestion period is now the subject of a train of operatives exiting this rooming house, all doing their front door slamming, which serves as the cover for shaking my room. There are other additions to augment the noise flurrry; talking "residents", tromping of feet and other hallway hijinks. The perps have three differing blue colored vehicles in the adjacent parking lot, and an additonal white, black and a deep metallic red colored vehicle out on the street. It seems the whites and blacks serve as color references for the games they continue to play. Soon, overhead clunking will arrive if past is prologue.

As predicted, the perps hammered the floor overhead loud and sudden enough to get me to complain out loud, and likely because a simutaneous zap injected into the mix. And if the pattern of noise is predictable, how can this be conveyed as a clinical cause? This overhead noise followed the departure of a blue pickup truck under my window. This pickup timed itself for a post dinner arrival, and was heavy on the thumpy music so it could be heard from a distance. Now the drumming group is getting a hearing as the nightclub nextdoor opened up its emergency door for 10 seconds.

And more overhead pounding, this time at the very instant a projected plasma variation of the text on a web site was displayed. And now the squeaking sounds of the front door and the faked water use. Normally high frequency noise doesn't travel far, but anywhere around me it does.

A group of chattering young people arrived outside my room to supply their banter from the right side. And they even added the specialty of the dysfunctional whistler into the pack, presumably as a the high frequency contribution to this noise flurry. Same old, same old.

A dull evening with some quiet, this time spent in the cause of bookmarking web pages of interesting books that I might read one day. Regular readers will know that the perps get no end of harassment mileage out of select, copy, and paste Windows functions, as well as re-crafting the title to be readable.

Time to blog off and call this a wrap, dull as it has been save the ceiling leak stunt at yoga today.

Wednesday, March 28, 2007

An Unexpected Outing

I am about to drop off into a perp sponsored nap it seems. I did my laundry this morning and had the usual gangstalker (male, red jacket, red pack) in the laundromat, engaged in Cheers-like banter which became rather loud. He put on the half-wit act, so that was his cover story for not understanding social speaking volume.

Some hammering has started up in this putative rooming house; there are no major renovations underway, and this noise has a curious habit of moving from basement to next door, and then upstairs inside of five minutes. Quite the renovation job, and they are talking about combining two rooms into one in two locations, so that should take care of April as a very noisy and vibration-prone month.

I did my laundry today, and I got the operative in the red jacket, putting on the Cheers-like conviviality with Goth Girl, the attendant. As time went on, he began to speak louder, and when he got into garment flicking/shaking with a convincing snap, he then added his throat clearing onto that.

I made a side-trip to the drugstore while the laundry was washing, and got first gangstalked by one of my Government House wildland restoration group members, the fellow who I dug cyclamen plant tubers with for at least three occasions. And it was men's day at LD Drugs with a minor show by the geriatric community on aisleway obstruction duty with the shopping basket and the use of promotional displays. As always, there were gangstalkers doing their "lean overs" at each location I went to, (the prevalent style of late) and the four MIBS (casual black clothes and ball cap) reprised themselves at least once while I was shopping.

It appears they want me to vocalize more, as they force me to say "excuse me" for at least once per shopping event. Or, put it another way, I have never seen so many people inadvertently blocking entrances, exits and aisles as at present. A new industry has erupted, faux oblivious egress blocking.

At one location on my walk to the laundromat (Pandora at Cook for locals) the perps put on a parking job of five white commercial trucks and two white trades vans on one side of the street. When I passed back that way, they added a yellow school bus to this entourage, even though the closest school is a quarter mile away. Plain fucking nuts.

When I was returning from the laundromat, I got one gangstalking from the brother-like "resident" and another when I was in the hallway; one ahead of my entrance to this building, and the other behind.

And when I returned from my second outing (detailed below), I got another gangstalker or "greeter" on duty, loitering on the verandah for some odd reason, instead of going down the stairway.

It is the post-dinner time noise stalking period, and I got sneezed (two) with a follow-on yawning. Never before have one such event followed the other until recent months. And it is unlikely that I am tired, as I got the usual extra hour of sleep in last night. I am certain that many past yawning attacks are likely these assholes dicking me around.

And another cover story is the low blood sugar events of the past to serve as a cover for "losing it" behavior. Somehow, I suspect that the assholes make this problem worse than it really was at the time.

More dinginess even with a halogen lamp on; now the over-revving sports car with a loud muffler has arrived to "enjoin" this blogging.

My mother pulled an unexpected visit plan today, as originally she said it would be next week. But as she "dropped by" after I got back from the laundromat, she mentioned this fiber arts event in a outlying region called Metchosin. It is mostly farms and small holdings some 30 minutes away, and has some beach access as well.

She mentioned it at the vehicle and offhandedly said something about going to it, and I was likely dithered in understanding what had actually transpired, and then she gets out for me to drive, and I get in, and then ask where she was planning to go. (Three days ago she also mentioned lunch for a Wednesday visit). Then she mentions about going to the fiber arts show, and as I had agreed to it earlier, I said fine. Essentially, this feint was to get me into the vehicle without knowledge of the intended destination.

I know my mother never plans anything impromptu, so this was a surprise to say the least. And so, even with some misdirection signs, and a bridge works, and a detour, we eventually made it to this little used church for the fiber show. The perps also fucked my local knowledge of what routes to take, and the alternatives with the detour/redirection signs as I was "spaced out" in my navigation attempts.

I went to a fiber arts show last year, and it was a massive gangstalk show. Thankfully this was low key and small. But that didn't stop an "open-mouther" gangstalker in a black leather ballcap and jacket from tailing us from the vehicle into the church. It was fucking outrageous gangstalking, and if my mother hadn't been there, I would of fucked off.

Anyhow, there were some OK jackets and painted scenes, but nothing too exciting. I suspect the biggest deal for the perps was to show me these greyish jackets that were artfully made of patches of other garments. A "grey scale" test, and possibly, a more detailed test as to what the interactions were in energetic terms with other people's garments (a patch of it), and of the entire garment itself.

Then onto a country resturant where it took a wait of 15 minutes while a parade of males in large guts and bald heads paraded around, and invariably, at least two gangstalkers with cell phones. I got the usual walk-by with the asshole/stalker packing brown cardboard boxes as I do everytime I go to do grocery store shopping.

Then the table was organized for me to look outside, and if I was allowed access to my own knowledge of this scenario in the past, this would of not happened. But just like the last time, the parade of freaks went by, entering and exiting the resturant, with many making sure that I saw them before they went outside, and then again, through the glass, when outside. Even the next table "customer" stepped outside in his shirt, leaving his lady "friend" there to do some kind of writing. She later paid the bill and he never came back. The "doggie bag" (styrofoam container) of food sat on the table while he was gone, and I assumed it was a surrogate for him, and the food that he had digested. (The energetics of food digestion is a huge interest for the perp assholes).

But the biggest freak show was a real one; they put a 3' adult dwarf woman dressed in white beside a 6.5' man in a black leather jacket side by side, and held them there for about a minute, standing outside the resturant for me to see. This was straight out of a Fellini movie. But is consistent with the vehicle size games that go on all the time.

Anyhow, I was glad to get out of there, and then we went to the local grocery store that has local sausages which are said to be tasty. While paying for them, this dude comes in and wants a quarter for two dimes and a nickel, and she takes the coins ahead of my mother setting off to depart, and then she gives him the quarter after I had turned to leave. In other words, the cashier reached across in front of my mother, and then again behind me. A gangstalk of the outstretched arm. When we went to depart in my parent's vehicle, this same dude was at the payphone, which takes dimes and nickels, so what did he need the quarter for anyway?

I was glad to get out of the gangstalk pen of the restaurant, and get back, though it was a massive vehicular gangstalk on the highway. I reckon they put on over 1200 vehicles today, and that is only my estimate, from what I see is abnormal. It is my experience that they double up the vehicles again in having them follow the same route, out of sight, and it goes on for another 20 minutes or so.

And another odd item came up today; somehow the doctor's office knew about my cell phone number that I used for 09-2006 and I never phoned them then or had any reason to supply it. And yet the address they had for me was two years out of date. More weird bullshit.

To make a long explanation short, the perps sabotaged me taking a shit again; the short story was that I needed a shower to clean up and a new pair of jeans to wear. It was fucking ugly, and all of it was planned to perfection. These perps are depraved beyond measure and lack any fortitude in fronting for their vile stunts.

And for typing that, I get the over revving loud mufflered vehicle noise outside. Enough action today, these assholes are way sick and their version of getting help is buying the hospital, doctors and staff.

Tuesday, March 27, 2007

The Floating Sensation

I am getting a round of the "floating sensation", that all too-common jerkaround when the perps de-energize the temporal lobes in their attempts to go deeper into their brain (my brain) games. And the second round of this was interupted by the manager giving me some oversized mail, junk mail touting a glossy travel magazine. How this outfit got my current name and address is another of those mysteries, but obviously the usual mail through the slot at the top of the door wasn't sufficient for this mind fucking rountine.

And I am getting cranked up about how these accident inquiries are not explaining anything. "Crew error" and that is it. This is more of a local story, but a ferry ran aground last year at nightime, and all were rescued but two before the vessel slipped off the rocks and sunk into deep waters. To date, they still haven't made any effort to bring the vessel up, even if there is a danger of a fuel oil leak. Anyhow, I am always suspicious of these "disasters" and I asked my once sea-faring brother how this might of happened, and he just smirked, possibly purposely to feed my suspicions.

Anyhow, there is still no explanation of actual crew actions for the 14 minutes the crew missed a course change. Could it of been a collective mind-fuck for those on the bridge at the time? Possibly, but I wasn't there and cannot make a call on this one. But what I do know is that the sickos have a fascination with neutrinos, and their interaction is quite different at the earth's surface than in deep waters, so they may of decided to conduct an experiment in this part of the world to determine the neutrino-human energetics interaction on the two unlucky passengers that went down with the ship. This is totally speculative of course, but as I am currently getting successive noise flurries and other related jerkarounds (vision impairments, more floating sensations, smells jammed in the nose, plasma beams flitting around, and the Pseudosweats), I can be quite sure that another party is terribly interested in this scenario, and could be the same one that even suggested/prompted "my" interest/"discovery" into these subatomic particles for which I never gave a shit about in the first place. Anyhow, it is a long way of saying that disaster events aren't what they always appear. And it is another case of the non-causal investigation report, where there is no clarity as to what actually happened to cause this tragedy. Call it the "dumbing-down" of investigational boards Canadian style. My mention of the Anna Nicole Smith coroner's report in yesterday's blog is another example, where she had a personal nurse and yet she ingested contraindicated medications. If the coroner's report is availible online there maybe some better details that did not make it into the news. There have been a few other significant investigations that failed to detail causal events that satisfied the evidence in the past years as well, and I won't go into that large topic here.

A classic "suck 'n fuck" stunt today; the drop-in center's yoga was cancelled without notice, making for a "go there and come straight back" event, on the same route. Past readers will note that this has "happened" for doctor's visits, caseworker's visits and a few others that don't come to mind. There is something the perps want to know with respect to minimal turnaround duration for regular destinations, and have me return to this room/cell and listen to yet more noisestalking.

And I got my usual entourage of ambulatory and vehicular gangstalking while outside walking; they are now painting the normal (standard) silver-grey dump truck boxes the same color (burgundy) as the cab to create a more monolithic look to this particular large vehicle. This was predictable, as they are doing the same with the Smart Cars.

And the perps even put on a white color lane line painting crew for me to walk by, as they were located near the drop-in center and were in place for my inbound and outbound journey legs. This too is a fascination for the perps, and they have re-painted most of the road lines at least twice on my beats when I was driving, 2002 to mid-2006. Sometimes they had only repainted one line of a two line centerline. I cannot concieve of how that could serve any other purpose than for the perps and their senseless quest to determine what colors I react to, and at what thresholds. Not my problem, so why am I being fucked over it?

And another round of noisestalking in the hallway outside my door with plastic bag rustling; they are going silly on this plastic bag stalking these days, as well as adding more burgundy vehicles into the mix, and backing off on deep metallic red colors. They are still on gangstalking me with crimson reds it seems.

And the floating sensations also came back after lunch; they are continuing to "feature" this kind of fuckery along with the noisescape, running noses, web page changes, mouseclicking, masers and plasma exposures, internal head noises, and the rest of their games.

Some relative peace and quiet save the odd house noises of thumping that occur downstairs it seems, and of no human intervention. This is akin to the house whacking of yesterday, and here last night.

I had my usual Monday night cannot-sleep spell for an hour, and then was permitted a near uninterupted sleep. There was one awakening to see the "grainy picture show", that strange lighting effect that has all the look of a nightime existing light black and white photograph. This time, it was a glance at my pillow they wanted, and then I was back to sleep, with a late awakening that precluded my drop-in center visitation to go dig non-native plants from Government House. As it turned out, all the perps wanted from me today with respect to the drop-in center was a "there and back" visitation, per above yoga class suprise cancellation. Only in hindsight, if at all, can their plans make sense, though why the assholes need a short turnaround visitation to a regular location is unknown to me.

The sun is setting and is slowly passing behind a building instead of directly at me as I type. These dusk times are when the perps go extra squirelly with noisestalking and the rest of the games they pull such as typo sabotage. They also have got a drummer's group going earlier tonight in the adjacent nightclub where I can only barely hear it unless they leave the fire escape door open for me. There must be some significant benefits to the vibrations as these are not the only items which are accorded such treatment in my proximity. The glass bottle bashing of the operative/"resident", the forced crockery clashing in my case, the noisy mufflers in significant abundance, the knocking or cleaning of storefront windows in my proximity, and the like.

Anyhow, the noisescape has been mostly quiescent today, save some noise flurries, and perhaps the PC and its last most "repair" of the installation of two indentical disc drives offers sufficient vibration. My theory is that they correlate the energies associated with the vibrations and attempt to build an completed energetics model wherever I am. I am getting enough faked coughing and hacking from the never-get-better "residents" to know that this is a hot topic for the perp assholes in their control room somewhere in town.

I am getting the overhead pounding again which underscores the importance of this particular dusk time for the perps. It does seem this particular focussed noise is applied to their "problem moments/activities" this being both the digestive period following dinner and dusk time. I may have mentioned this before, but I have a suspicion that the advancement of Daylight time onset to March may have been their doing. In this way they can continue the experimentation at this time of the diurnal day.

And that they fucked me over for four attempts in succession in typing the word "to" in the above paragraph, and have me yell at the fuckers, further suggests that the current situation carries a high-stakes fuckability to it. Getting me riled up is their Fuckover stunt of first resort, except it is not as loud as before by way of speech volume governance.

The woo-hoo's have started up in this putative rooming house, and outside, the key jingling noise has started up owing to some transiting operatives in the adjacent parking lot. The usual noisestalking of the webpage changes, mouseclickings, unintended page re-displays and the rest of the dull details the perp assholes find so fascinating.

And just when I was getting complacent about some quiet, another bullshit and over-faked coughing jag has started up from the never-get-better operative/"resident" in this putative rooming house. I could well be projected sound from that quarter rather than a live being. And the perps make sure I get annoyed with it.

The overhead pounding has started up as thoughtstalking; any uncontrolled observations or thoughts get an overhead clunk accompaniment. So much for any quiet.

Time to blog off for another dull day, worsened by the perp's fuckery over a late get-up time and the secret cancellation of yoga this afternoon. Cue coughing and hacking.

Monday, March 26, 2007

House Whacking in the Night

I stayed at my parent's place last night and watch the usual two programs with lots of British accents, a planted theme of the perps. Nothing grating at least.

I was allowed to get to sleep in short order, but was awakened in the night to hear something whacking the house in rythmic fashion. Later I was awakened again to hear my parents talking and for thoughstalking reasons. That is, while thinking about something, one of them would cough or say something, whichever was appropriate at the moment.

My afternoon tea and chocolate has been cancelled; that is, I have no interest in having the tea even if no chocolate is on hand. The latter is a highly managed food item, and is integral to the perp's brown color problem they inflict on me, and both my usual sources were "out of stock" last week. That includes straight milk chocolate and the variety with added hazelnuts, the permitted alternative. And since I have gone through spells of not even liking the smell of chocolate, I can be sure that the assholes are governing this trait as it fits in with their color planting plans.

And on that note, the usual Monday morning light gold-brown metallic colored sedan that arrives on Mondays was duly parked under my window, per usual. It must be at leas six Mondays in succession, with perhaps one other non-Monday visitation. I even was allowed to convey to the doctor last week about the scheduled Monday-only getting to sleep problems, and he asked why I thought it was happening. I gave him my best answer that Mondays are the day following a stay at my parents' place and that whatever benefits accrue from being harassed and surveilled there are likely being attempted here on the following day, right to the end of it by protraction of my awake time. Anyhow, it was interesting that the perps allowed this nonclinical gem to be supplied to the doctor as usually they have me "forget" anything of this nature in a clinical environment. That is, they don't (usually) want to hear about it, and therefore dither my situational capability in recalling unwanted information.

I read an interesting article in Nexus about transplant patients undergoing personality changes akin to that of the donor. This isn't anything too new as transplants have been going on for over 30 years (heart, lungs, kidneys etc.), except the author makes a statistical inference is that it is not a coincidence. Which is interesting, as somehow the perps might be reading these energies off of organs as well as my brain. That they put at least eight deep burgundy colored vehicles around me in one block of a two lane residental artery suggests that perhaps my heart is their current quest as it is the same color. Then another four of them clustered around me outside this place when I pulled in with my mother's Ford Escape. Then the brother comportment-like gangstalker/"resident" "happened" to walk in front of the vehicle while she was spinning a story about a possible outing next week, before I got out.

It was interesting earlier that my mother was talking about kidneys this morning, as a news story had launched this conversational item. Not that I am any expert, but it did cause me to wonder what the need was.

And it was also interesting that the perps hammered me with vision impairments when I first sat down at the table, whenever I looked across the table at no particular feature. And lo, if my mother didn't sit there, in the center of the location for which I earlier recieved vision impairments. It was the particular view that was impaired, as they backed off if I looked somewhere else.

And it seems that there is a magical scourge that is attacking toilet plungers in my proximity; over the past month the one here, and the one at my parent's place, have taken on a list, and the handles can no longer be kept vertical. Even inanimate objects are taking on a generalized "behavior" in my proximity. No doubt mine will have taken this on when I am allowed to spring it out of storage next month as part of the upcoming move. I am to give my notice this week, and take the plunge that desirable place will come up for rent in the next week. Nothing in the newspaper this past weekend.

And the housing coordinator phoned and asked about my house looking, and I told her nothing yet, and then she goes into raptures about how this was the best time to look as the student's are vacating apartments at term end. Well it so "happened" that is what I told her two weeks ago, when she suggested an April 15 end of tenancy which I was not too keen about. I then proposed the April 30 date, citing the aforementioned student turnover, and I asked for her validation, and she said she didn't know. Now she is singing the praises of an upcoming bountiful choice of availible apartments next weekend, the month-end, owing to the timing of student turnover. It is simply amazing how "my idea" (likely a planted thought) gets replayed back to me in glowing terms from someone who couldn't, or more likely wouldn't, validate it in the first place.

Regular readers will know that there is a component of this harassment called "generated coincidences", aka scenario or dialog setups. That is, a theme will come to mind, and often the words to use, in anticipation of an upcoming event. And when the event arrives, I typically find myself in a conversation where the (planted) thoughts and words are supplied as "my" contribution to the converstation. And other times, the theme is ignored entirely.

An example is the doctor's appointment past week which turned out to be relatively benign and no insulting games and other ruses to get me riled up. But, the week before that, they had me "discover" that the diagnosis of delusions requires some work on the doctor's behalf to ensure these events are not occuring. Well of course no doctor has done any spade work, even if I tell them there are books on gangstalking, and 18k Google hits on the topic, never mind the many web sites. So, the notion was that I would come out swinging in metaphoric terms in the doctor's appointment was planted; I would put the shoe on the other foot, and ask him for his research efforts as to what he had done to be sure that these events were not happening. As it so "happened", the doctor's visit was totally nonconfrontational, and was a cakewalk in that he ducked the issue of provability in advance by saying that he was prescribing medications that help me deal with the experiences I describe. Anyway, life is a constant mind game, some notions are planted to be disregarded, and some are planted to be discussed at length.

And sometimes this presaging of verbal content is managed to the very word, where I use a more obscure word which gets "jumped on" by the designated party, and I have no idea as to why they didn't understand its usage. I explain it, or define the word, and then they are OK with it. As the mind control extends to my vocabulary as of sometime in 2006, I don't worry about it now as it is all programmed exactly to what the script is.

I just finished commenting to another TI and that started the herd of operatives moving in the adjacent hallway, next door bathroom, loud muffered vehicles outside, the daily fan belt squeaking, again from outside, and the rest of the noisescape. And too, the select, cut and paste actions in Windows makes for a noise flurry as well.

And I read that Anna Nicole Smith died of an accidental overdose of a prescribed substance that conflicted with other medications. I haven't done the homework to know what all of the medications are, but I surely there must of been a contraindication warning from her doctor. And, no less, she travelled with a nurse, and in addition, still somehow ended up with an infection from the hypodermic jab. As always, I am suspicious of all premature celebrity deaths, but as I am not there, I cannot make a call as to what exactly went on. She was an iconic blonde, if over the top, but she had a certain appeal in that she made her own success, even if brazen at times. But I do wonder, is there a certain attrition rate for iconic blonde women? Princess Diana in 1996, Marilyn Munroe in 1962, and none come to mind for the 1970's and 1980's. As I said before, if I were Paris Hilton, I would start to lie low and stay out of the limelight.

I got up for a drink of water from the gallon jug, which is located near the window. True to form, meaning 95% of the time when at the counter, there was a vehicle slowly cruising by outside, red and white lights glowing, and then it reversed as they often do. Once I got back to my chair, the assholes jabbed me with some kind of internal pain, large intestine area. I assume it all relates to their ass-jabbing activities, and the sensation of shitting undigested straw whenever I get to take a crap. They have no end of interest in all matters related to shit, and have gone to great lengths to make taking a crap an abhorent experience.

More motorcycle noise from outside; the perps like that long trail-off of sound (or decay) and use both the loud throbbing two cycle motorbikes (Harley Davidsons usually) and the higher revving four stroke typical Japanese motorcycle noise.

I am doing some reading on Alien Jigsaw by Kathrina Wilson which has some articles on mind control as well, and it seems the central question is one of nonconsensual experimentation; by aliens, or by ones own species. In each case, it is a life under duress as the author points out, though she didn't imagine the nature of been totally controlled with the entire city taking part in an ongoing charade, with the central character being kept in the dark as to what is going on, and all support being pulled, or else highly compromised.

Then to top it off, the perps launch into vision impairment activity, designed to stop me reading. But at the same time, they want me online and to flick through web pages for noisestalking coordination and whatever else they do.

For a Monday, this has been a fairly calm evening; I am getting plenty of furnace oil smell jammed up my nose, but not the usual 3 per 5 minutes of room shaking and the hallway jocularity or cell phone activity.

In the ongoing vehicular gangstalking that went on this morning when I drove my mother's Ford Escape to my place, there were the burgundy red vehicles I mentioned, and later in the journey they added a burgundy and sliver-grey combination Smart Car which are all the rage here. It seems that the perps were building a scale of small (Smart Car) to large (vans) of the burgundy color. I have never seen them do this in one journey so obviously, but it goes without saying almost, that I have also been "shown" plenty of motorcycles, sports cars, sedans, dump trucks and others in the range of scale they seem to be attempting for each color of interest.

And in the stupid driving realm, another first today; someone stopped in mid-street, oncoming with the passenger door open, just sitting there and not attempting to pull over to the curb where there was plenty of room. This was facing my parents' place 300m away, and if any traffic had turned from the nearby thoroughfare, they would of slammed into this absurdity. So it seems, that this stunt, looking like bozos gone wild, was carefully arranged for the idiots to pretend to be putzing in mid-road for the few minutes or so that they were in view. It did not surprise me that the vehicle was silver-grey, the most often used reference color, and that of my former Volvo, now driven by my sixteen y.o. daughter who can afford it. How's that for penury?

Time to call this one a wrap, and take on the consideration of tomorrow's events; it is an "outing day", Tuesdays as I go to the so-called "drop-in" center, which for all purposes is a gangstalk center. Last week, morph-overs of my father and brother were the first two fuckers to "greet me", even before I got into the house to sign in. Both these assholes had the same comportment as the respective individuals, hence my interpretation as being morphed-over family members. That they were there first, and before I got in the house suggests that these were the most important gangstalkers of the lot. In my view, both are fucking sick to be taking part in this protracted and vile depravity. I just hope I don't see them in any like form tommorow.

Sunday, March 25, 2007

A Cough-a-Thon

A coughing and hacking contest is erupting; four of them alternating, one moving in close to the next door bathroom, putting on their never-get-better show, and continue to cough in sequence and synchrony. Unbelievable, and it erupted just after my mother's phone call, which was likely timed to the second. It is my theory that sensors of every kind; microphones, voice pickups, CCD's in digital cameras, film cameras and any other device for measurement can be co-opted by the perps for their own purposes of measuring energies us mortals are not allowed to know about in any formal established physics curiculum. I have had television cameras used as the gangstalking "assistance" device. This was at a two bit jeweller where the camera man went in ahead of me; more absurdity.

Now two hallway sprayings of "air freshener" so far today, the first was when I was shaving at about 0930h.

A major overhead ceiling pounding came like a bolt from the blue as I was reading the word "bananas"; this is just unbelivable abuse this morning, and it is not over yet. And the perps had me yell at the assholes very loudly, something they don't ordinarily let me do here. It may have something to do with the open window, and attempting to detect my own energetics through the open window rather than through the plexiglas panes they so like to rattle in the room shaking bullshit that went on all day yesterday. And I am sure a zapping was thrown into the overhead noise, just enough to perturb me but not make me jump.

Back to an all-quiet and then more room shaking via house pounding. There is no reason why closing the front door, even if slammed would cause the entire house to shake. I have experienced apartment shake/pulsing before, but nothing like the constant train of it that is going on. It is fucking sick to do this to anyone, day in, day out.

A short spell of an all-quiet, then a resounding room shake when reading the word "biodiesel". Surely to fuck that the assholes got something better to do than this, like expose themselves and declare why am I being constantly harassed over what I read, see and think at any given moment?

Lunch is over, and the assholes are back to pounding and shaking my room again; about 3 per five minutes currently, as the post-meal ingestion period is of significant interest to the assholes, and showing their faces isn't going to happen in this nonconsensual human abuse show. "Experimentation" is too generous to describe the reality of this depravity as being in prison would afford me more protection and freedom from intrusion.

Mind you, I suspect that the perps like to covertly monitor many in prison as they have considerable interest in what color of garments I am wearing, and having captive subjects with a single color garment every day is likely a godsend for the perp's quests in this regard.

On another topic, a 5' x 40" wardrobe arrived in the adjacent parking lot overnight, and was placed at the corner of the lot and the building where donations are taken for a charity called EIN, for Women In Need. Will the charity, currently open accept this object? Of course not; they have their supposed staff walk around it, and they leave it there, presumably for at least a full day of "exposure", aka perp games with color, object placement and juxtaposition and the rest of it. Currently, the game is to have a crimson red vehicle park in front of it to play the nonstop "peekaboo" games of placing various objects in front of one another. In this case, it is the all to familiar brown (wardrobe) partially obstructed by the red sedan. And this kind of juvenility is of huge interest to the perps, hence the all day placement of this wardrobe in a parking lot. This venality never ends, and the assault is constant all the time owing to some kind of sick minded depravity of not declaring themselves, even if fucking my life for some 47 years before going nearly five years of overt sabotage and and abuse.

More overnight games again; they woke me at about 0300h to organize some shenanigans in the parking lot outside my room, mainly voices talking loudly, and then the manager of this putative rooming house came out and had a few words with them, yelling at them to be quiet. There is nothing like having a row outside my room for whatever reason the perps have scripted. My theory is that the emotionally processed information is deeper in the limbic system, which is where they are continuing their research, as that area of the brain is not yet 100% fuckable.

There was a second awakening in the night where I was woken up for its own sake, and as I am thinking, the perps lay on overhead clunking noise. This particular source of in-house annoyance is of no concern, despite the charades of removing the earlier tenant who did the same thing. The above mentioned house manager is totally inconsistent as to what noise sources get pursued and what remains.

More room shaking inbetween cell phone calls from the hallway. It seems that the assholes are room shaking-stalking all the familiar web sites. As they display with a seen-before page, the perps put on a wholesale roomshake. This is similar to other modes of noise and vibration stalking. The cough-stalking has been deployed in the recent past to "happen" at these same junctures of web page display. Other commonly noise-stalkable coincidences are when I read celebrity names or other prominent citizens, usually ones that are familiar to me.

Meanwhile, the plasma and maser games continue, and the fuckers are continuning to throw these up in my central vision and float about. I wonder what script the optometrist is on should I go see him; the pretend-otherwise/all OK or some kind of expensive upgrade to my glasses which will doubtless serve the assholes, for penurious reasons alone, if nothing else. The fact that two of my hard drives failed at once suggests that these assholes are not concerned with infeasible events as a cover story. And of course no one adds up all these curiousities and comes to the conclusion that if 10% are correct, this amounts to a severe and constant intrusion into everything that I do.

The Sunday Feral Family Gangstalk Event calls for my parents to pick me up at my place and then proceed to my brother's for dinner there, and I get the driving at night duty which I don't mind. I suppose it is mainly centered around dusk onset and the fact that this is giving the perps considerable techinical difficulty, which is not my problem. This would be a four of five family member aggregation, as long as my other brother's (Kamloops BC) morph-over appearences last week aren't counted. I also suspect he does gangstalking here in this putative rooming house as there is one regular who keeps "showing up", and getting in close and not being the least concerned about it, including the cover blowing practice of waiting outside the communal bathroom when I was exiting it. And of course I wasn't allowed to ask him how he knew I was coming out just then, but that is the crux of it. Who is this asshole who keeps "showing up" all over the place, including outside.

The senseless room pounding is going on, as it has been all day yesterday and this morning; and I am getting mind fucked into vocalizing the obvious affrontery of it, which I assume feeds the asshole's games of creating more fuckable moments for them. More severe typo sabotage is "happening"; four attempts to get the last word of the previous sentence correct, jus the usual thanklessness of the assholes who continue this depravity after 52 years of it. What fucking sicko would keep this up?

The perps decided to take a task bar off my Firefox browser, and for a time, I was running without the Windows Task Manager bar at the bottom of the screen. This is a fairly benign fuckaround, but they have a habit of shaking up the status quo for whatever reason that serves their purpose.

As I will be heading out for Feral Family Dinner soon, I will cut this blog short for today, not that anything startling is likely to happen in any event.

Saturday, March 24, 2007

Room Slamming

This odious practice of slamming the front door as the "causal agent" in having my room shake is getting to extreme piss off proportions. I wasn't enough that the assholes were doing this while I was reading a newspaper before lunch.

And the fuckers are at it again, just as I finished the above paragraph. And consider that this did not happen at all in this putative rooming house until 11-2006, and now it happens at every egress, making this entire scheme arranged to say the least. As mentioned yesterday, this room slamming would be worse for the four intervening rooms that are closer to the front door, but "somehow", the seeming residents don't mind. Which suggests that there are no genuine residents in those rooms, and none anywhere else.

I did a visitation to the grocery store earlier, and got the shiftless males on ambulatory gangstalk duty, and Mr Passport Tosser showed up twice, once outbound, and once inbound. He was dressed in two tone reds, not unlike the color palatte of vehicles outside my window in the adjacent parking lot before I set off. On his second gangstalk, he stayed at the intersection with a "Walk" signal on, and did an in-place ramble, talking to no one. In his follow-me days at the hospital (two visits, 8 months apart), he did not engage in this seeming pattern of speech. All for me to hear him and for his colleagues to map human voice in my brain at that intersection where the perps devote great effort in stunts and feints (Pandora and Cook for locals). As noted before, he wears many cover stories, and now holds the gangstalking record of 10 appearances as a non-family, or otherwise an non associated, gangstalker/operative.

And there were at least two teleported operative parties on gangstalk duty on my way to the grocery store; one brief look away from the direction I was heading, and poof, two parties of males some 30' apart, coming toward me. Nothing new there except increased prevalence.

Another evident trait is to have their oncoming ambulatory operatives pass me on the right side, a contravention to the normal right hand "drive" rules of pedestrian traffic. In each case they had the fuckers as seeming head cases and swing way wide on my right side, making any countermeasures to be obvious. Both were dressed in light brown coats, the first was male, and the second was female.

On top of that, I even got an ambulatory female gangstallker walking toward me with a red colored umbrella wearing shades, on a rainy day no less. There are days when it seems that I am on a movie set and these stereotypical acts are put on stage.

By the time I got back from the grocery store, there were six red color variants parked around this house and room, that being about 60% of the availible parking. The even put on a burgundy Volvo V70 pre-2002 out in front of this house, and not visible from my room like the remainder of the red-variant vehicles.

As I key this through the greyish maser beams that shoot across this keyboard, the perps are still on room/house shaking, and are getting me extremely irritated by this. All fucking day, every operative egressing this house slams the front door. This putative rooming house has 16 residents, and there has been at least twice as many egressing to take part in the Grand Slam, this one of a continuous nature.

And as it is their latest and greatest play, one can be sure the assholes will keep this up until I leave, hopefully May 01. Just like the overhead slamming and clunking in 09-2006 and the subsequent "eviction" of the perpetrator, they will continue to play this until the end. I can expect my next residence to have an overhead neighbor of equal noise output.

More house slamming/room pounding with an added voice over to the noisescape. This is fucking inhumane and outside the Geneva Convention on treatment of prisoners.

Another room shaking; enough to make me jump out of my seat. Translated into perp actions; loud enough to have the orchestrated jumping reaction to seem as if a legitmate reaction.

Some relative quiet over the last hour, and no zapping or room shaking. The masers and plasma beams are prevalent, but they are not half the disruption of physical vibrations. Even the noisestalking was muted, the coughing and hacking and the glass bottle bashing were evident, but not annoying.

Enough to blog off this dreary day, and get ready for another. Worse than prison.

Friday, March 23, 2007

Thuds From Below

The perps cannot get enough noise and vibration going, so it seems that they have started up a new front, that being from the basement. As there are only furnaces and storage areas downstairs, and there has been no activity down there until recent weeks, it spells "new perp noise front". And while this wisdom, if it is indeed mine and not planted into mind, is being typed, I am getting the smells jammed up my nose, the typical response to a new avenue of coincident noise, vibration, vision impairment, and maser and plasma action.

The post lunch noise flurry has mostly subsided, just the usual routine, plus some extra as I type up this by another coincidence. They get totally cranked when I dry the new frypan with a dish towel when doing the dishes; they must of teleported someone in outside the bathroom (next to my room), who then entered it and did the usual hang-around and flush the toilet. Exciting stuff for a depraved sicko it seems. And the reason I suspect a teleport job was that the perps always let me in on "residents" tromping in the hallway and the stairs, and yet this never happened before the operative entered the bathroom.

The room shaking and attendant noise started up again, and so the serial exodus of operatives today has amounted to at least one full turnover of the putative "residents" of this supposed rooming house. All of them slam the front door, and by way of magical feat, that "causes" this room I live in, some 20' away, to shake. And the four closer room residents for whom the room shaking is even greater, never appear to be too bothered by this relatively newer noise and vibration escalation. Odd that, as they gangstalk me regularly, and engage in glass bottle bashing too, and they supposedly live there.

Perhaps this is to complement another onset of rain today, enough to keep me room-bound as there are no outstanding shopping needs to go outside for. This has been a wet week, and rain does have some perp benefits, hence the amazing coincidences of it with my activities since nearly five years ago.

Vision impairments have been steady today; their characteristic for today is to force me to glance away and refocus on the same position before the forced glance. An disruption of continuity it seems, nothing new there, save the persistance over today.

Another teleport to the hallway and a sudden "need" to slam the bathroom door and make this room shake, as if I need more of it. The operative was not audible in the hallway in transiting to the bathroom, but suddenly appeared as if in a panic to get in close. And per usual, nothing gets done in there, save the toilet being flushed.

More glass bottle bashing and then odd clap noises from the hallway, while doing some conspiracy reading. And added to it are over-rrevving vehicle engines without benefit of a muffler, the only kind of vehicle that over-revs it seems.

I spent the last hour flushing the toilet owing to the juvenile games of the perps. This is commonly harassed event, and about 90% of all dump visits to the toilet result in extra harassment now, this having changed since BOH, Before Overt Harassment, 04-15-2002. And it relates to the color brown and the perp's problems with that, which is not my concern. So why am I being harassed over a depraved sicko's problems, and why don't they front for themselves?

And for that time, I got to see what they did; the bowl contents were swirling clockwise, and in the last third they would reverse the flow, and play their juvenile fuckery. How anyone can be this fucking depraved, to fuck someone flushing a toilet for an hour, takes the cake for being a supreme fucking sicko. Five years almost of being fucked over while taking a shit.

Some hammering has started up at this hour, and isn't likely connected to any building maintenance. And now, some coughing and hacking, an act that has five months behind it, and still hasn't gotten any better.

The perps had me cranked up again, and almost without fail, they fly spittle out of my mouth at that very moment, as if it were projected by me, which it wasn't. The street spitters have not abated any, and they will even do this nearby rather than leaving a trail on the sidewalk.

More room shaking and house pounding following a hallway cell phone stunt minutes before that. All these advantages to the perps; "resident" noise, house shaking. communal toilet fuckery etc. make me wonder what the next place's configuration will be.

More room and building pounding as the operatives move out in a serial herd, every one of them slamming the front door. The probability that all egressing parties slam the front door is zero; so it must be organized.

Then at the moment a street whistler sounds off, I get zapped again. I fucking hate getting zapped anytime; I am sick fucking fed up of this. No more zapping until you sick gutless assholes come face to face.

Now the glass bottle bashing act has been taken outside, and coming from my right side. This fucking sick depravity never ends, senseless grinding fuckery, day in, day out.

Some relative quiet, save the smells being jammed up my nose and the vision impairment fuckery again. I am getting both the maser zingers (fuzzy grey balls bouncing about) and toroidal white colored emanations from the LCD display. Now comes a zipper undoing job outside my door, which I assume is to exercise more plastic stress action for an energetics interaction determination.

In a rare instance of a prospective landlord phoning back, I get the "unavailible" routine as the tenant has decided to stay. This comes by way of telephone message that was taken while my hands were wet and tied up with cleaning the asshole's mess on the counter. It is always easier to tell fibs over the phone to an answering machine, and so it was orchestrated to be so.

And I concluded that the two days ago call-back of a TI who is very much a promoter in taking the battle to the perps was a set up upon reflection. There was the "depression" angle and no empathy, and although I was in the same mood as now, I cannot understand why I answered the phone in such a grim way. It must of been a mind-fuck to have me answer the phone such that it served as a segue into the depression angle, a topic the perps like to bring up.

And my always unhealthy "neighbors" are back into the coughing and hacking routine, this time putting at least eight sneezes in a string. That takes help IMHO.

Another fucking day of being kept by the sickos is nearly done, and is likely to repeat again tomorrow.

The assholes weren't done; someone slammed the intervening wall between my room and the next door bathroom, very possibly to create this very entry.

Thursday, March 22, 2007

Operative Herd on Room Shaking Duty

Since I got back from the grocery store, another mega-gangstalked event, the operatives have been filing out of this building frat house style, slamming the front door which serves as the "causal agent" to shake my room. One after the other, a mass migration, one at a time. The entire putative rooming house of 16 units has turned over at least once this morning. It does make me wonder what the next residence location is going to offer the assholes, as they have it all their way at present. That includes two vacuuming efforts in the hallway yesterday, which still left a trail of white colored debris, the toilet paper and plastic bag fragments litter trail, to lead from my door to the bathroom, only 3' away.

More race-based gangstaking at the grocery store earlier; the black dude gangstalker who cruised in awfully close to the checkout line in which I was last, then partially encircled me to hang around at the next checkout, closed, for a half minute and did no shopping. He was totally scripted to hang around there and do nothing in the way of genuine activity. Then he took off and came back a minute later, only to repeat this idiotic exercise again, 4' away. After a half minute, the Asian dude in navy blue arrived as a faux customer, hanging in the checkout lineup. He later went into sentry mode, where he stands still, this time back facing me, and stays still for about 20 seconds. Meanwhile, the long haired fucker in front of me had a bad case of itching hair, and kept up his scalp scratching act for as long as he was in the checkout line ahead of me, some two minutes. And the fact that he fit another demographic, the pony-tailed male, also "didn't occur to me". And that in itself is another example of a mind-fuck, where they are deleting my knowledge of their fuckery games while engaging in that specific activity. No Big Girl on duty at the grocery store today, as she has been there for nearly all weekday visits of the last two weeks. Maybe the perps decided that there was too much connection, and pulled her act. She must be someone I know who is in morph-over form.

As these "mental lapses" are occuring more often, and are situationally applied, I can only suspect that they are fucking with me all the more to cover their squalid tracks.

The usual plasma in the dark hallway when I got back; this is a daily given where they feign some kind of light to dark transition "eyesight problem" but supplying a plasmic fog of multi-colored spatter for me to walk through. It is about time some asshole explained this, as these vision assaults are constant now.

A visit to the doctor turned into a massive gangstalk in the waiting room. They brought in two huge 300 lb women to sit around, and the blonde woman who shows up at Tuesday yoga also "happened" to be there. Then after 5 minutes or so, she departed, not the usual waiting room behavior, but that is not uncommon amongst the freak show I have around me. As she crossed in front of me some 4' away, and on the opposite side of a low table, a red plasma flash went off for a second or less. Then 5 minutes she" showed up" again, sitting on the opposite side, and I never saw her re-enter the waiting area. She was on sentry duty at the doors to the clinician's only area, and to no surprise, was still there when I exited. She is a seen-before, and I don't know where, or else I am being fucked with in thinking that.

I got the doctor's "assistant" routine again while in his office; another Asian, this fellow being very fair skinned, abeit with black hair. So it would seem that the perps are going for an Asian skin tone color palette, and needed an "extra" to compare to the doctor.

It was most curious how that very red paper clip got on the floor of his office and remained there for the consult. Between the two of them, they couldn't of missed it. The doctor's new line is that he doesn't doubt that all these strange events are occuring, it is just that I need medication to help me deal with it. Har, har. That saves doing battle with him, as I am sure he had no choice as to refusing to play the game.

I takes 25 minutes to walk to the doctor's office, and for the second doctor visit in four weeks, the rain "happened" to be starting up just before I departed. I was allowed to wear a hat this time. And it almost goes without saying that the gangstalkers were out in force. The 2006 census reported near zero population growth for this area of Victoria called Oak Bay, and yet the traffic is horrific. The perps must of added at least 500 vehicles on in both directions. There were the usual clusters of reds, whites, greys and black vehicles, with selective addition of yellows, brown, greens and blues. The selective addition vehicles are usually accompanied by an escort of black, white and/or silver-grey vehicles.

It was a semi-eventful walk; I got the faux blind man and his rabelous cohort stunt, the latter on pointing and waving duty, who mysterious went ahead of his colleague as we were about to pass by. This momentarily left the blind man alone to observe, and he was following my movements toward him, and eventually past him, with his cane. His eyes looked normal as well and he had a big smile on his face. The whole stunt was likely to get me to vocalize that he didn't seem to blind to me. Then the rabelous one got into voicing something as I kept walking away.

This same stunt played out on the way home, almost at the same location with a woman with a stroller with various plastic rain protection on it who was getting into sidewalk territorial games, and who then forced me off the sidewalk. She then got into a long ramble about blaming me for being a sidewalk hog, telling me I needed to be a waiter and on and on as I kept walking. Two identical stunts of setting up some verbal interaction and having the operative keep babbling on after I have walked on. Fucking absurd.

I got a two sides brown ambulatory gangstalk enroute to the doctor's office. It so "happens" at this location there is a 8' long run of brown colored paint in the road gutter, next to the curb. And lo, if the brown coated gangstalker with a plastic hair bonnet didn't jaywalk across a four lane busy road that momentarily "happened" to be free of traffic, and end up on the sidewalk ahead of me and serving as a brown color source on my left side, and the brown paint on the road was on my right side. A brown color gauntlet in effect, and this play is more common of late, also "happening" for red and green as well. The local landscaping has a 30' run of a certain kind of hedge that has red leaves when they first flush in the spring. This hedge lines the sidewalk, and it is no stretch of imagination that the parked vehicles lining the street side of the sidewalk are most often a similar crimson red, set up for me to walk this red-lined gauntlet cum sidewalk. Someone had that planned out long ago.

This same activity of getting a color profile over the width of the road location I am at played out in grey three days ago, 03-19-2007, where there were two grey dressed gangstalkers walking in parallel on either side of the street, and another operative was pushing a grey plastic tote bin on wheels between them.

The ambulatory gangstalking followers are staying on me for longer I noticed today. They start them out by leading ahead and walking the same route that I am. Eventually I catch up and walk ahead. The line of sight interaction time is at least 10 minutes, and I had one of these in each direction. I also stopped at a store, a regular stop if I am in the neighborhood, and lo, if the person who strangely stood behind me at the traffic lights, also "happened" to be in the store, and somehow "I" forgot to check on this follower as she had already made her motives plain.

Earlier today, I got my native Indian ambulatory gangstalker male in exactly the same on-sidewalk location when coming and going to the grocery store. I haven't quite figured out why they need to plant the same person in the same place in opposite directions, but this is done more often.

And many cases of bright orange red clothes when I was returning from the doctor's office. There were at least three on the inbound leg, one being an absurd Bay blanket coat on this old duffer with a dark green walker, and two blue colored vehicles from opposite directions were waiting for us to clear this side road so they could cover our tracks.

Any uncontrolled thought or visualization begets me overhead pounding; the assholes had not made any warning noise, and out of the blue, the pounding starts up again. Earlier, while rinsing a dinner plate in the sink with the water running, the assholes put on a big clunk sound and a coincident zap. This confirms my suspicion of this bizarre fixation of noisestalking me doing the dishes.

I spent an hour cleaning up my movie bookmarks, some 18,000 of them (true), one of "my" pastimes when on the PC, in the hope I will be free enough one day to view them. That maybe two lifetimes worth even, though I am certain some paring down will be in order as some of the "cult film" sites are too indulgent in promoting mediocre movies for the sake of genre religion. It almost goes without saying that bookmarking, and the maintenance of them, is a perp noisetalked event, one very much to their liking. They seem to have no end of need for every variation of activity related to bookmarking and maintaining the file. The Firefox bookmark manager is much perferred over the MS Explorer equivalent.

Another suck job, vacuuming in the hallway, an unprecendented two days in succession, but I haven't looked to see if the trail of white color chads made of toilet paper and plastic were sucked up this time.

I got a ladder visitation for dinner tonight. In the adjacent parking lot outside my window, a large black pickup arrived with a 20' ladder with extensions. Just before taking the tortillas off the stove, he drove his pickup in front of the window between this and the building opposite, and of course the ladder passing by. He, and others, erected the ladder and put on some kind of roof maintenance show for about 20 minutes, while I had finished the dinner and the dishes and was back at this PC. They then drove out again, passing the ladder by within 3' of the building I am in. Regular readers will know that ladders on trades vans and pickups are ubiquitous in this city, and are in great profusion for any vehicular gangstalking activity.

I am getting some heavy irradiation of something off my LCD panel and it is causing vision problems. One last news item; in the past I have noted a number of suffocation deaths that occured in the past two years, in the form of disasters, e.g. mine explosions, ferry capsizings, the Helios aircraft crash where it ran out of oxygen, building collapses and a few more that don't come to mind. And I see another mining disaster in Russia, and I would not be surprised that the perp assholes were behind this. I repeat, there is something they want to know about earth-human energetics interaction that they need slowly dying bodies for, and all the better if this can be conducted at differing elevations and ground depths.

Anyhow, I am shooting my mouth off here, but there are too many coincidences with respect to these events, and the mode of death is the constant, asphyxiation. As these kinds of disasters had abated, I was hopeful we would not see any more in such quantity. But from my perch, it is situation normal, more disasters for the perp's quest.

Time to blogg off and call this done.

Wednesday, March 21, 2007

Laundry Day Freak Show

A "perfect gangstalk" might be the subtitle of going to the laundromat and back. And as I type this, even my nouns are getting noisestalked from overhead clunking, which followed overhead vacuum cleaning.

The perps put two men gangstalkers on me when I got there, one looking very much like a college thought-to-be friend in morphover. He may have been the cretin at my table at the drop-in center yesterday. Both of today's operatives were wearing blue, and lo, if one of the fuckers emerged from a blue and white colored cab, parked outside and visible through the windows. One departed within 20 minutes of my arrival, also looking like a morph-over of someone I knew at work one time.

The other operative continued the Cheers-like banter with Goth Girl, the only attendant on duty today. He wandered all over the laundromat, putting on the roving customer act. For her part, she put her black long coat on a low red colored table in the waiting area, and combed it of pills or embedded fluff. (Totally amateur practice for a laundromat, having the garment draped on the floor in part).

Later, female blonde power came to brighten up the circumstances, she arriving in a black VW Jetta, the preferred pre-2007 style to my aesthetic taste. Later she walked in a back and forth troll with a multi-toned brown shirted male beside her, he owning a gut that was borderline disgusting. No fluke that, and in my model of the perp's games, she was adding "karmic goodness" while associated with a more loathesome demographic (mid age male with a gut), an increasingly common event as regular readers will know. (Typo sabotage).

I was allowed to read McClean's Magazine while at the laundromat, as they finally got some new reading material. And lo, if not five minutes after reading about Canada's top wines, a "customer" arrives and tells Goth Girl about the wine stains on one of her items of clothing. It is fucking sick to keep hounding someone with these orchestrated coincidences all the time. It is fucking depraved to hound anyone; when are these fuckers going to get it?

Once I was done and walking back, the gangstalk show got into full form; they had two classes of children in single file, merging pedestrians 30' apart wearing the same pastel yellow jacket, yesterday's red coat with a dog act was on duty today, two more commute levels of traffic, one inbound, the other outbound, and various others who were out in far greater number than a usual gangstalk morning.

And they still weren't done; when I got back to this putative rooming house, I had interuptions from the manager, two phone messages to deal with, then a pee that forced me out of my room, which suddenly abated while someone else got in ahead of me into the bathroom while talking to the manager again, and two more regular operatives "came by" from their pals walk. As it turned out, I didn't need to take a pee for at least an hour longer, an event that has never happened until I found out this was remotely controllable.

The overhead vacuuming started up again, just to keep up the noise show and whatever other benefits that accrue from sucking air and related vortex configurations. Amazing, for a 100 sq. ft. of room/living space, twice in 40 minutes

The overhead squeaking and pounding has started up to noisestalk me reading my email; the email was from my ex, and details our daughter's trip to Florida, and her driving my former vehicle, the one I gave to her. Somehow, she got 3 months of vehicle insurance when I was told that one cannot get it for less than six months. This province has a single vehicle insurer for liability and basic; no lawyer fights in that case.

After 10 minutes of quiet, more overhead clunking erupts the instant I read the words "mind-control"

An hour nap followed by wall pounding and other noise. I was also scripted for sneezing, and there has been an increase of this of late, and no causal condition. The sneezes are being scripted at the oddest of moments, and I am getting pissed over this intrusion.

More coughing outside my door. Funny how it is timed for when I am reading about remotely applied harassment.

Now that the perps can mess with recall and have near 100% mind control, I don't find it too surprising that some confessionals over 9/11 have come forward from one or two prisoners at Guantanamo Bay. They can now plant this on anybody, any scenario they want. One also has to wonder why these confessions have only arisen of late, and not earlier. Call it confession planting upon ready culprits-to-be.

Another suck job; the vacuum cleaner outside my door. I have heard enough of that fucking thing today, and I even get chased on the street with the same devices mounted on a truck cleaning drains.

The maser zingers are getting annoying, the fuzzy black balls that flit about in my field of view, and some of these are making sweeping arcs around objects, such as the LCD display as I type.

I am getting more of the cease hostilities bullshit by way of mind-fuck insertions, the "promise" that they are going to free me from this criminality, but as before, that has happened before, and I am getting pissed with this drivel that they spew into my mind. The perps are way too sick to give me up to some arbitrary deadline, not when the fuckers have 53 years worth of it.

More travelling is occuring among friends and family; my daughter, parents, ex-wife, thought-to-be friend from high school days, case worker and yoga instructor have recently been, are or are going to be travelling in the next month or so. In some cases they are covering my old tracks, e.g. Seattle, in other cases, it is a family event. This travel coincidence is not new, but there is a spate of it of late, and they all like to tell me about it, possibly to rub it in, as I haven't had an away holiday for over a decade.

A resumed phone call with a TI in a nearby city; she is on the "ignore it" path, and believes in applying the "law of attraction" and has seen the numbers of gangstalkers diminish. She gave me her pep talk, and even suggested that I give up this blog and all the reportage of the perp events and stunts. And, oddly, I don't know what to make of it, as I have no choice in how I react, and in the past, have noted how my reaction has not been in emotional synchrony with how I felt. And that translates to mind control, IMHO. And if I am gangstalked and controlled to infinitely small detailed levels at each second, how am I to exercise free will when I never had it? I am supposed to call upon my guardian angels she tells me. So they can be fucked with, or is this another level of submission to be taken to, as if being a lifelong doormat wasn't enough. I have a "who knows" reaction.

This was the resumption of the call last night that was truncated, and it has some elements of being perp based, though I do believe her gangstalking experiences. I will consign this to the "don't know" realm, and there have been some individuals who have acted in ways that fit the profile of perp purposes.

In 2001 a co-worker lended me a book by Sylvia Browne on guardian angels and I found it fascinating, though she never talked about the book's contents with me. Most people "complete" on discussing a lent book's contents in some way, but she never did. All that does make me wonder about the guardian angel "thing", though I am at a loss to understand any more details. More pondering is needed as to what she talked about, and didn't want to hear about, and also past connections and various themes that were dropped, e.g. "go to the library and get....". Very strange this one, as I haven't been there for four years, and haven't "felt like it", which is code for being mind controlled.

The notion of two competing harassment factions has crossed my mind in the past, but if so, both act the same, and appear to benefit from the same activities. But, enough speculation, the perps are sick assholes who should be collectively euthanized for the betterment of mankind. Only depraved nutters would fuck with someone ad nauseum for five straight years after 47 years of covert fucking the same victim.

I have relative peace and quiet save some tapping noise that erupts when I read names of musicians as I tour folk music web sites. No ostensible cause of course, but impeccable timing as always. The masers are very active, also flying off the LCD display from the musician's name even as I encounter it when reading. More well timed fuckery for me to deal with. And some vision impairments that always make me so happy.

I have loaded enough venom into this today, and refuted the advice I got over the phone (above) completely by getting furious with the typo fuckery that has plagued me all day, and in my world of unallowed reflection, will contemplate what sick minded bullshit will await me tomorrow.