Sunday, April 01, 2007

A Thousand Points of Light


Back to front door slamming and room shaking; this infernal affront has started up for another day, and I have 30 more to go in this place, having given my notice in yesterday.

Last night after turning out the lights, there was the entire S. wall lit up in a dull plasmic glow. Upon inspection, this was made up from thousands of very small point sources of light. This was not the first time I have seen this, but likely the first mentioned in this blog. And I have Bush the elder to thank for that metaphor, and it does make me wonder how that came into one of his speeches. I am sure he knows all about this harassment if it is as connected to the squalid Iraq War events as I think it is, as articulated in past blogs.

I was awakened in the night for a grainy picture show, where the appearence of everything takes on this low light condition black and white photograph look. I read somewhere that this is what light would look like if it were slowed down. I cannot vouch for that, as I have no more functional measurement meters, being discouraged by three gaussmeters being fucked with in the past five years so that they don't work. Any measurement device or other electronic device can be disabled remotely I have come to find, right down to always reliable NAD equipment.

A coughing outbreak with a coincident zapping to piss me off, then follow-on laughing that was forced from the get go, especially its louder than usual volume. No doubt I am due for another round of male jocularity as I haven't had one for weeks.

An all-quiet order is out, save a few one-of noises. The overhead tromping and floor squeaking noises have returned to mark anything I find interesting and resonant while reading news on the web. Usually they won't let me read longer articles until at least an hour of short pieces, once the noisescape has settled down some.

Now, the assholes have decided I have been reading too much, and place a floating maser zinger exactly where my right eye focuses and ensure that I am duly annoyed with it to then stop reading that particular story, no matter how engaging it is. There are degrees of engagement with any activity and the assholes find this to be exceptionally fascinating of late. As mentioned above, there is this slow grooming of my attention to written material over the past two hours, and now they have decided that the experiment is over. Time for blogging and putzing again, and on with insubstantial web sites. And as I type this, I am getting the plastic bag rustling outside my door, and now the overhead pounding with some hallway banter. Yesterday's emo case has returned for some reason, and I am sure that it has more to do with the voice mix of the noisescape.

One of the regular noises of yesterday was a chainsaw at least a block away, and it ran for hours. And it so "happens" that I have been long groomed on this one, and have operated this device for many hours in the service of firewood gathering. And even if the neighborhood is mostly concrete towers like the last location, the perps find an excuse to bring operating chainsaws within earshot. It must be a deep limbic brain system (brain stem area) processing or hearing, which might be why I get the odd maser shot in my neck, above my adam's apple.

The glass bottle bashing act has started up pre-lunchtime, and has also moved in closer for some reason. More smells have also been jammed up my nose, and a minor wind started up around my feet to cool them it seems. Time to put an end to this and make lunch.

So much for thinking I would catch a break from the noisescape by making and eating lunch. The vacuum cleaning activity started up outside my door for the duration of making lunch with the onset of cheese slicing, another perp fixation that brings extra noise activity. Then it was the power washing, more hallway banter with the vacuum cleaner still going, and more noise that I cannot recall. Then after waiting for it to subside, and eat my lunch, the assholes started up the vacuum cleaner upstairs, and ensured the sound was heard directly overhead. Then it came on again when I was cleaning the dishes, another perp fixation, exactly when I ran the water from this high whining noise faucet, which was immediately shut off. And the assholes coup de gras, the cleaning, rinsing and drying of the frypan, always an object of intense perp interest, was stalked with the electrical extension cord being flipped around in the hallway in closs proximity. Later, when forced to take a piss, there are still white colored scraps outside my door, and that of the next door bathroom. They spent some five minutes vacuuming outside my door and did not pick up all the debris the assholes use for color reference purposes. Unbelievable, but just the routine.

The Sunday-only noise of power washing started up before lunch and is continuing a half hour later, and will continue for a while yet. I surmise that it is a reference noise, a benchmark that they want to continue before, during and after lunch. And another noise that is serving this purpose seems to be the chainsaw noise, a continuation from yesterday.

The glass bashing noise and vibration has started up in response to me being engaged in reading Katharina Wilson's story from Alien Jigsaw, and comparing notes with other abductees. As I am re-reading this from a few days ago, it would seem that the assholes want to track whatever energies that are repetitive, and separate them from others, hoping for some kind of psychic connection between me and who knows what else, the site, author, contents, aliens (perish the thought), abductions (none in my case) and whatever else.

Another Sunday dinner visitation to my parent's place; it was the usual den of gangstalking, feints and lies. And also, more set up games for me to speak at length about a topical item in the news, this time it was the Conrad Black trial in Chicago, a bigger deal fpr Canadians and Brits as that is where he spent the majority of his business career. With all the exposure this case has brought, and all the past exposure in magazines about his business career going back 25 years or more, I often wonder why the perps are keeping him in my knowledge base and re-visiting him with more stories. Do the perps have some kind of surveillance or mind control leverage on him? I won't go there in answering that question, as I don't really know, and sometimes this entire harassment and conspiracy world that appears to exist is even bigger than I imagine. Mind you, I thought that too in 2002 when this started, as it covered work, public activity and clinical staff. Only in late 2002 was I allowed to know it was including family, and these "revelations" seem to be carefully metered. Only in late 2003 was I allowed to know this was a since-birth duration, and not since 1998-9 as "I" thought. (And of course the assholes planted the notion of "how" it began then, totally erroneous of course).

And while I was with the First Feral Family watching TV last night, the plasma and maser show was in full force, no one saying anything of course. And plenty of strong emanations came off the TV, or were otherwise aimed at me, to make me break my gaze. This in addition to my father playing sentry duty, and standing beside the TV, cutting off the view of the wall and curtains. This kind of people blocking and/or guarding of normal views has been more prevalent of late.

And both parents would simultaneously move their feet, or readjust their position, as if they were instructed or controlled to do so. The same fucking pathetic act as everytime, now coming close to four years of these visitations for family gangstalking.

That is enough to blog off, as this is now 04-02-2007, and I will likely start a posting for today's stunts and feints, being a Chicken Run day especially.

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