Siren Time

1705h
As I start this, a siren has erupted with a simultaneous bus noise, but no apparent bus. Nothing new there, as the latter is the projected sound, noise that can be placed anywhere in the omniplasma continuum, a fancy name for the vacuum, or just plain air that is around us. From what I read, we are being bombarded with millions of neutrinos every second, and to some physicists, this sounds like a partial description of the energetic ether, which is what I contend is the perps are manipulating to piss with conventional physical forces at a distance as well as apply mind-controlling energies to their targeted victims, me being one.

I experienced a whole new mind fuck method today, one that one will not find in any psychiatric or neurological text or symptom set anywhere. I was handwriting the word "are" and then "I" (as in mind controlled me) began perceptually parsing the word into "a" then "re" (as a short form of regarding) and at that point I was so pissed with this outrageous intrusion, I swore out loud to the perps, that if they pulled that one again, they won't have victim to fuck with any more. This shows one the micro level of mind-fucking that goes on, something I never imagined, as it have never been clinically documented before as a symptom.

1725h
Another overhead pounding just as I read about positrons; this time I was made to yell out at the fuckers good and loud, none of this governed down voice, and the fucking pounding has since abated. It is time to read something else, but who knows if that is going to get noisestalked too. The perps are out of control today, or at least in flurries, and perhaps the notorious weekend crew, always the worst assholes, is still in command. What is the matter with the perps that they won't come out of the closet, except for collaborators of course.

1940h
It is pound the overhead ceiling time again; this began in the form of loud rumbles, intended to emulate that of a sliding glass door. Trouble is, it is centered in the apartment and not originating from the location where the doors are, each appartment overhead being a floor plan copy. The current excitment for the perps is me reading about plastics pollution, something near and dear to the fucker's hearts, and also, I was reading a piece on Laura Dern and then Kate Walsh.

I got plenty of gangstalking attention when walking outside today along major thoroughfares. It is a half hour walk each way to the recreation center, and this leaves me wide open for vehicular gangstalking, likely 500 to 700 vehicles total, not including three car dealerships. I got the usual redi-mix truck, the fire department (again, per usual), and the usual hordes of white, silver grey and red colored vehicles in formations and doing their dispersion routine at intersections (one going left, one straight through, and one going right). I got at least three vehicular transverse sidewalk sitters in each direction, those who from a driveway and sit in the middle of the sidewalk until the planned traffic is clear. Then a motorized wheelchair deliberately got in my way when I was to take a turn, and the fucker had been well away while we were all waiting for the "Walk" signal. It never fucking ends, all this planned freakshow and sick asshole operatives clustering around me.

On this leg of my walk I got my ambulatory gangstalker again, the lead ahead male in flip flops stuck onto me for ten minutes of walking time. A swarm of five gangstalkers erupted from the fire station parking lot, and they were not related the fire station's activities in any way. The attraction was that they were paralleling me, and walking in front of the yellow vehicles behind the red colored doors. There is a big attraction to "stacking" the gangstalking people and objects. Gangstalkers in front of other gangstalkers often of differing races, and again, in front or behind of various colored vehicles. Today, two East Indians put themselves into a dynamic configuration where the lead man on the cell phone was blocking me seeing another East Indian man 10' behind him until the last possible moment. That meant the East Indian behind was also shifting rightward as I was approaching this pair. That is quit the trick, lining up like that to stay hidden from view for longer.

The perps have done this with vehicles for three years, lining them up, by color, and also playing "peekaboo" by tucking one behind the other, or having only a small portion showing. Often they would tuck red colored vehicles between a pair of white colored vehicles in front of me.

The fuckers were all over me at the LD store when I stopped in to buy a baking dish. I think the attraction was that I was paying cash, and they wanted a color read on me as soon as extracted my ten dollar bill and again when I got out the door. (Canadian money is colored; fives blue, tens purple, twenties green and fifties orange). The operative/"customer" in front of me didn't clear the checkout until I had finished my payment, and then he finally leaves ahead of me after fussing around for no apparent reason, and I take a different exit door, and just as I exit the store, he comes at me for no reason with two more scum operatives who also worked themselves into the choreography of me exiting LD. It was plain fucking nuts, and I have seen this fucker before, but am not allowed to recall where. Normally, I never forget a face, and until last year, I could rely on my recall in this respect. Now I cannot, as it gets regularly fucked with.

And another case of being not allowed access to my own recollections came up. My former boss from the Ministry of Forests was on the other side of the street at a controlled crossing. I thought it might be him, but the light on his face was getting fucked with. When the signal to walk was on, we approached each other, and then I got fucked out recognizing him, but he gave me an extra look, As soon as he looked away, then I was allowed to recognize him. I saw him at least three months ago from the bus, and he looked much like I remembered him in 1986. This time he was decidedly older looking, and it took a little extra time to recognize him. From this vignette, one can learn that the perps are dynamically directing and/or controlling my gaze, his gaze, our interaction and my recollection abilities in a tightly scripted scenario. This applies to all my gangstalking classmates and the shills. A few come on friendly and then go sour, and stay that way. Others "recover" and come back friendly again, but all looking and glancing is totally scripted.

2015h
The second I get back to this article on particle physics, the perps keep jabbing me in the ass. What is the matter with these thankless sickos who have been hounding me all my life, now almost 53 years? The article postulates particles called psitrons and it too is of great interest as I type, begetting the onset of at least four simultaneous noises, for a noise flurry. Now even a drum beating has started up, not unlike the noise of the last residence location.

The perps hammered my with 2 cycle motorcycle noise, (think Harley Davidsons) while out walking to yoga and strength training and back. I assume this is to continue the noisestalking and noise to neural energetics activity stalking/assaying that they are doing all fucking day. This noise comes on frequently, and highly amplified, while I am in my apartment some six stories up. I am currently getting about one of these every minute or two. As before, there isn't a biker's bar within five miles of here, it is not that kind of town. It is very middle class here, though that does not preclude them being around, but never in the frequency that they now present.

Today's strength training was the usual loose gangstalk arrangement. The woman who senselessly hung around me on the first workout machine after my run on the treadmill last week made a similar play today. As I finished up on the first workout machine after today's treadmill run, she swooped right in and followed me. None of the bizarre hangaround duty this time.

When in the floor exercise room I got into a gangstalk squeeze; the fuckers on either side of me were dressed in black and white (one also being in my Thursday yoga class), and the clock overhead was also black and white. I was all in black today, after an "unthinking" wardrobe choice first thing this morning. Thankfully there were squats to do, which didn't require a wall position.

And while looking in the mirrors of the exercise room I noted that there was a whitish cloud around me, which would be the plasma from being contained in a magnetic field. Also of interest is that there were point source masers in white and red; this were little star like flickers that lasted for a second or so, and then would disappear, to be replaced by another somewhere else. And it also seemed that I was allowed to view this for a minute or two, then I was mind-fucked out of observing this bizarre science show, that is me. And that also spells "collaboration" for all those so-called clinical workers who aren't telling me about this. By no coincidence, the perps make sure that I "don't remember" to mention it either. Two parties that won't/can't discuss the obvious makes for a diagnosis that will be fundamentally flawed.


Last week at the recreation center the perps left me alone in the change room where my fleece block vest and pockets contents were locked up. All I need to do is put on my vest, load my wallet and keys back into my pockets, and depart. That 30 seconds of unmonitored time wasn't allowed this week. A street dressed male gangstalker, previously seen earlier on the workout floor in this same red and brown getup with brown shades on, erupted from the shower area (not that he partook in one), and another workout dressed gangstalker was on my ass just after I entered the locker room. This is another example of how tight the perps are covering me; 30 seconds in a changeroom is too much "free" time by their current orchestration standards. I did think it odd that I wasn't covered last week, but that didn't last for long.

Another of their gangstalkers was working his way closer to me over a period of ten minutes or so. He and his pal were doing exercises that moved from the artificially lit area to the sunlit area in small increments. This was a "see me" stalker; the more obvious set up, in long hair and shades on, and I was directed to notice this fucker more than I would of if left to my own devices.

I don't know what the preoccupation is that the perps have with sunglasses, or shades, as even my brother will suddenly put them on when there is no compelling need, usually when indoors when we have been moving my boxes from his place. Someone is giving him the word to put them on at some juncture of our interaction, and of course he complies. The above fucker hanging about in the workout area, fresh from being outside, or where he teleported in from, wearing his brown shades was patently absurd. Ditto for the above longhaired dude, he wearing Oakleys with the characteristic reddish-yellowish reflections. Perhaps the color of the lens reflectance is important too. Usually the perps bombard my sunglasses with dust, and I don't bother (read, mind-fucked) with taking them anywhere.

More infernal Harley Davidson noise, about one per minute, and very possibly it is projected sound, something the perps do routinely.

2140h
I got a phone call from my in-town brother, then read this Wiki on Arthur Koestler, the author of the above paper, and then the overhead and outside noise eruptions started, along with the onset of masers flitting in my visual field. If that doesn't confirm the fact that the telephone is an instrument of electromagnetic stalking, then tell me what might.

2200h
More overhead rumbling noise, and the vision impairment fuckery has started up, as it often does in the last hour I am awake in the evening. I get flares and whitish flashes which cause me to disengage from reading, and then they like to jump on the noise again when I attempt to find the location to resume reading. More "neighbor" water noise has erupted with some masers flitting about.

Time to call this a blog for the day, and find something to read which does not invite perp noise bombardment.