Saturday, the Doggiest of the Week

1415h
This is a Saturday, usually the doggiest of the harassment week, partly because that is the notion I get planted with, and partly because there are no (usually) diversions, unlike a weekday under the cover of the requirements of "getting out" (to maintain my subsidy), or other appointments. Even the remainder of the "trickle in" moving isn't happening today, as my in-town brother (and free storage provider and moving hand) hasn't phoned about the next partial move.

But I did get out to acquire some items for the kitchen and bathroom and it was another holy gangstalk event, even if I went a half block away. It does surprise me that the perps had me move so close to my usual grocery store, since 06-2006 when I gave my car to my daughter. But they did pack a lot in, and they started when I was outbound in the elevator when they put on a >6' male skinheaded operative in the identical color of jacket that I was wearring, olive drab.

Then they had a swarm of native Indians crossing the street in front of me, stringing themselves out in a line with 2 to 3' between them, a method that I am familiar with. Then onto LD where they now had smaller sized dish drying racks, the ones that sit over a drainboard. Three days ago there were none of the small size, and by dint of fluke, they were on special with a yellow sticker in front of the stack.

Needless to say, the perp gangstalkers were all over me except where they wanted me to shop, and "somehow" they fucked me out of remembering to get a paper towel rack there. I am quite familiar with the imposed graduated pace of acquisition and move in/out, and this fits the pattern, and forgetting this item of a small list doesn't fit with my normal recall abilities.

Once I was done in the kitchen section, the fuckers were all over me, and they had a mother with a baby in a stroller posted exactly where I wanted to go, the mouthwash, and only green was availible as it so happened. They also put on some lard-asses blocking the aisle, doing the pretend routine that they were unaware. And this is to get me to vocalize at least an "excuse me", and today they also mind-fucked me into muttering relevant and ascerbic commentary as to their large size.

Another large male was on duty at the back of the store, doing his back-and-forth pacing as seen many thousands of times since all this shit began in 2002. He was dressed in a teal blue sweat shirt, and then he "showed up" again at the checkouts, and then again, outside the store. In this latter instance, another seeming independent person (aka gangstalker) was near him, and wearing the same teal color, a raincoat if I recall directly. When I exited they were some 2' apart and doing the mutally oblivious routine, pretending not to know the other was there, and then magically (more like coordinated choreography) these two teal color wearing males split apart in the direction I was headed, and the only availible sidewalk room was to pass between them. And the significance of this color is that my olive drab colored raincoat was next to a same teal colored garment, that of my windblock fleece vest that I wore yesterday and got gangstalked with a WIB (Woman In Black) wearing a hat of the identical color, see posting.

I also got the blonde treatment in the checkout line, though with a twist; this woman with features that seem to have drooped an inch down her face was first on aisle gangstalk duty, and then later arrived right behind me at the checkout. She was plain ugly to look at, and I was determined to not look at her again, but I got mindfucked into another look when just her well tended hair was covering the side of her face (thankfully). The perps also pulled a similar stunt two days ago when a gangly and unattractive gangstalker woman was placed nearby, and as soon as they had me look at her, they then had me look at the covers of the magazines at the checkout where the blonde and attractive Drew Barrymore was featured on one of them, and at least one more attractive blonde celebrity whose name defies recall.

Once I completed shopping at LD in near record time, no wrong aisle fuckaround games this time, I set off back on the street sidewalk where two successive dogs and gangstalking owners turned the corner in front of me, and it seemed the dogs were totally oblivious to each other, something I have rarely witnessed before as a former dog owner. The latter pair did the "behind the corner routine", a move the fuckers made me familiar with by lurking (gangstalking me) at every corner in the hospital when they fucked me into going there.

Then onto the last city block, and I wasn't done yet with the fuckers; a troup of three weirds were arranged such that two were on the sidewalk and the third was on a bicycle on the street, travelling outside of the parked cars (go figure). Then the latter weird cut through a vacant stall, and "joined" his pals cycling on the sidewalk, and then crossed onto the street again, reversing his direction in order to put himself and the bicycle immediately in front of me, blocking my egress. Again, I got to vocalize a complaint, this time directly to the asshole/operative for him to hear, and I got some bullshit reply back.

Bicycles are becoming an important gangstalk appurtenance, and the fuckers have no compunction about walking them, riding them on the sidewalks, the wrong way down a street, or jumping between these transit modes. And they like to place them broadside to my intended direction, even if it is for a second or so. It just doesn't add up to normality to see so many bicycles being walked, and often, they will then jump on them and begin riding. I have mentioned in past blogs about the abundance of bicycle lanes in this city, likely to facilitate the ashphalt and concrete road surface energetic interaction research that seems to be the asshole's agenda, but it doesn't matter to the perp sickos, as they want to get bicycles in as close as they can to me. I will make a prediction; before a year is out they will have driven one into me.

I got to read the national newspaper earlier, and true to form, the perps put on the usual first page freaks in the photographs, something they like to make sure that I see on a regular basis. Usually the online and the printed page versions of the Globe and Mail don't differ much, but today, they were differrent and had me unaware of their tasteless front page bullshit on the mentally retarded until I saw it. It never ends, along with the extensive noisestalking while reading it. When reading the newspaper I would occasionally look outside to see if there were any actual vehicles as the source of noise, but no. And still no biker's bar in the neighborhood to warrant this incessant noise source, especially that it seems amplified to be heard at such volume at six stories up.

And more reading perception fuckery when reading the newspaper; I was reading a piece on Sir George Martin, the legendary record producer (of the Beatles and many others), and there was a listing of the many successful albums he produced. Except, when reading this list, the perp assholes fucked my perception into "thinking" that these were singles and not albums. Only at the end of the list did the fuckers quit mind-fucking me like this and let me in on the reality. I am fucking pissed that my perception is being constantly fucked with in ways that never, ever happened before, and defy every clinical condition description going. Leave my recall, my thoughts, my mind and life fucking alone. Get it assholes?

On the treed city portion of the landscape that I can see from my apartment, I am reminded of when I went hiking until last year, where there was plasmic ghosting of the landscape that would jump into view some 100' to 200' above, in front of the sky portion. There are also the greyish energy waves that transiently slash across the sky, usually above the treed horizon outline, and extending a kilometer or more vertically. Nothing remains still to look at; there is this constant vibratory look to everything, and then they add on the yellow (usually) plasma ghosting, maser beams and waves and other phenomenon all the time, both in the distant landscape to immediately in front of me.

1715h
A dull afternoon, web surfing, teatime and more web surfing. All the familiar noises of the last residence location are being replayed for me, even if that was a rooming house and this is an apartment block. The coughing and hacking in the hallway, the tinkling of glass and crockery (improbably) being rattled, hallway banter and a few more have been "featured". Thankfully at a modicum, and with any luck, they maybe for "noise transition mapping" or whatever neurological research gains they are after.

Though they did not back off on sneezing; I got a whacking big sneeze noise the instant that I wrote the name I ascribe to the perps (the Psychopaths) in my written journal, loud as if the offending party was on my balcony with the window open. This would of been another projected sound, similar to the street traffic noise as it appears to be unattributable to the actual passage of vehicles.

And the perps have arranged a near constant drone of Harley Davidson-like motorcycles is totally ludicrous; there are not that many in this town and there is no biker bar for five miles or more. For variation, the perps also add in trail bike noise, an even more rarer vehicle, and to top off the inanity, Vespa noise which would be even less likely to be heard from six stories up.

There are plenty of plasma and maser incursions to keep reminding me that I am not in control of my personal world, and very often they are coincident with names that I read in the news, particularly in the film business, though various themes are also consistent that have been identified in the blog, Pondering the Perps Objectives, Part 1.

The perps have also been thinning out the skin on my hands and feet and making the veins more prominent. In this fucked over life, knowing the back of one's own hand is a privelege that the perps grant; one cannot be sure that one's hand will look the same, day to day. The veins are sometimes re-routed the next morning, believe it or not, and they now cross tendons and/or bones laterally, something I had never seen before. And it is no surprise that there are more red plasma beams shooting over my hands as I operate the keyboard.

On nearly every wall surface there is a vibrational tone to it, as if energy waves are coursing up and down, unlike anything I have seen before. I surmise it is all part of "tuning up" this apartment now that I am in it and that my furniture is unpacked and hasn't been moved about. These fuckers have so much of their sick agenda on my back it is obscene. That has been detailed in this blog posting, and as far as I can tell, it continues with their fucking games that encompass my every move and thought.

One noise that has been increased of late, and that follows me at various locations is a distant hum that varies some, as if one were on a large ship with a generator constantly going and remains unattenuated with hearing protection on, most improbably. My last residence location had this noise of no attributable cause, and also at yoga where in conjunction with the spinal twists and flexing, it must serve its true purpose; mapping body energies (aka energetics) to function and thought. It seems that one's back is of primary interest, as one TI indicated that they "read the spine is like an aerial".

This fits the pattern of the operatives often placing their backs toward me, as soon as they can within the bounds of social convention. They often plant operatives beside each other, 90 degrees offset, back to back. And even more interesting, these pairs are often male and female pairs, as the perps are continuing to attempt to map one gender's thought and perception energetics to the other, usually starting with females in my case, and attractive blonde ones at first.

Then the perps move up the scale from attractive blondes to the remainder of the ongoing freak show, today's droopy faced and unattractive blonde woman (per above) being an example. Little did I know that they would hit me with more freakish face images in the newspaper when I got back, also described above. The recent blending of unfavored demographic groups does not surprise me, having skinheaded males as cripples (wheelchair bound), ugly blonde women, fat ugly males, white haired obese cases and so on. It seems that the fuckers are attempting more complexity in their testing.

This more complex presentation of gangstalkers and vehicles is also true for clothing color; the shills and operatives are putting on brown over black, white over red, two tone brown dressed males etc. As always, they start with attractive blonde women as the leading group (favored), and are then able to extract something from that to then apply to unfavored demographic groups, and all the way to obese skin-headed male waddlers which must be at the top of my instinctual loathing (unfavored) list. The reality is that the perps know me better than I do, as I am not consciously aware of my unfavored demographic groups (disparaging perspectives) unless the perps put a number of these in front of me.

The next level of complexity it seems is to then have an unfavored group member then gangstalking in unfavored colors; the recent rash of long haired male vagrants wearing crimson red ballcaps seems to fit this profile. The regular out-of-town brother-like gangstalker has also been used as a lead gangstalker in this capacity and "happening" to be at the laundromat this week, the first day I moved out of the last residence location, when it was clear this asshole wouldn't even know how to wash his clothes. And it was also curious that this fucker did not have an assigned room in the putative rooming house, as he came from either direction, and there was at least two other gangstalkers using the room he once emerged from. If it is my brother in morph-over, he is one sick asshole to be actively participating in gangstalking me.

He once "showed up" in normal appearance on a full transit bus I was travelling on, standing beside the driver, and looked straight down the length of the bus at me. This is the brother who lives some 10 hours of vehicle travel time distant. And I have seen him since, and "somehow" I forget to ask him about this, which is even more compelling evidence that it was in fact him. Similar incidents have also been mentioned in these blogs about my in-town brother.

2140h
More "carry-overs" from my last residence location. Instead of the incessant overhead floorboard squeaking and clunking, I get a substantive rumbling noise overhead (as if anyone could humanly pound a concrete floor that hard with their feet), and as a "reminder bonus", I was simultaneously zapped. And of course the fuckers had me yell about it too, as there is no choice in how I respond to these assaults. So, it is situation normal, all my harassment methods of the last residence location have been tested out, and stay tuned for the ongoing "Chelsea" Show (name of this apartment building).

The rumble, zapping and having me energetically write up the above blog entry was likely to force me to disengage from an longer and focussed reading session that the perps allowed/had me involved in. They put me onto Breakfast at Tiffany's, a lifestyle and sometimes celeb sighting site that has the right degree of snark and readability over the small things that matter, save her interest in clothing and dress. As always, when the oddities of life start having a pattern to them, one that a TI would detect, it does make me wonder yet again, if the fuckers aren't running her too. My current take on the perps directing me to specific individual's blogs (TI's excepted as they are being run as a given) is that they must be running the person.

I should clarify the term, "running someone", though the inference is clear, it means that the perps are covertly monitoring, surveilling and possibly harassing by applying extra-conventional physical forces games (aka e-harassment, though I don't like that term), or even up to the level of mind-controlling. Why else would the perps invest in over 30 minutes of focussed reading time in someone's blog that they have no connection to? And to be clear, the perps are on me so that I am doing their bidding every second of my existence, and it is rare that I go off-script, and when a thought occurs that they haven't planted, they immediately put on the noisestalking, even if it is absurd, e.g. high speed motorcycle noise in the pouring rain, as it is tonight. The notion that any blogger I frequent might be under the purview of the perps is highly speculative, and I am positing this question in the hopes of getting a response from other TI's as to what the assholes are driving at.

And the maser and plasma games are continuing. The perps now like to take shadows and shapes in my peripherial vision and then alter them in some way to be annoying, possibly by emanating a replicate ghosted plasma array from the object, or patch of light or shadow. I had to move the halogen light as the arc of brightness on the wall to my left was being used in some way to create light and dazzling activity in my peripherial vision. On the odd occasion, so far, the fuckers will drive off some plasma or maser beam from shapes on this LCD.

And today, the fuckers pulled at least two whole left eye impairments where only a fuzzy light colored toroid shape was visible for a second or so. As always, simultaneous coordination with specific and long used noises occurs more often than not.

2300h
And more reminder noises of my last tenancy in a concrete building; the seeming floor whacking with a light wire, so to have a backbeat sound to it, a softer tap following and louder one. And this is near identical and it is amazing how over two major cities the upstairs noise makers have such common traits.

Enough, and that of the motorcycles noise as if riding at high speeds in the rain which no sane person would ever do. It is just the projected noise machine that the perps use to create specific noise, usually louder, at any location they wish, even if a cover story in unavailible.

And that should be a blog for tonight. I haven't edited this for one last time, and I am hoping there are not many perp created discontinuities and other unfathomable passages in this blog.