Wednesday, May 09, 2007

Smell Jam

After a moving and sorting session, with some designed harassment fuckery to have me rage in public with my brother in close proximity, the perps are determined to keep jamming me with a created smell that did not happen. This is post lunchtime, and they like to step up the noisestalking at this time. Yesterday they had a malingering propane smell at the front door when there no fittings or tanks anywhere nearby.

I went to my brother's place this morning, after a fuckover stunt in sending me to the wrong street for the bus, I began loading his van with more boxes. He was his usual passive agressive self; being unhelpful, then helpful, then pulling his "busy" routine, then his "sore back" routine, but we got a substantial load of heavy boxes loaded and brought into this suite. I wanted to put some of the storage boxes directly into the storage locker in the basement, but the assholes fucked me out of setting it up and getting the storage area door unlocked in advance by the manager. Another "somehow", yet again, "forgetting" elementary prerequisites, especially having gone through the routine last week.

As usual, the weirds and strange loitering males descended on us unloading the van; one motorized wheelchair act, driven by an native Indian, (think perp's brown color problem), came by the boxes on the sidewalk, and did a U turn right there, and slowly set off again in the direction that he came from. It was no coincidence that it was the white box with the blue stripe was on the sidewalk then, and this fucker's wheelchair was a blue color.

And my brother "managed" to park alongside the only puddle in the curb gutter on the street, one that had been especially arranged, as the streets were not wet because the weather has been good for the past two days. Then on the last load, he clumsily hands me a box at the door of his van, and "somehow" the packing tape had been severed, and two books "flew" out of the box and into a puddle. This was a carbon copy in one of the last moves I did; then the perps had me fly off the handle into a loud rant, and then the gangstalkers arrived from nowhere, one in a suit for fuck's sake. (The male in a suit is a unfavored demographic). While ranting out loud, it was the gangstalker's entre to give me the stare, something they are routinely doing now.

In my apartment, I looked through all the boxes and humped four dolly loads a half block away to the local charity. The dolly is rubber tired, and the perps have real problem with rubber compounds, and so I was gangstalked in the elevator, out on the street, while crossing the street etc. The manager also obliged the perps by hosing down the accumulated debris in front of the building, and made sure he was there for all four loads I took out. It is quite the organizational stunt, organizing a charity drop-off a half block away and have me humpfing my belongings out in the street. This "trickle in" moving has been arranged with considerable planning.

A coordinated noise combination of outside brake squealing and in-house rumbling has erupted; time without fail, the perps put these two noises together. As mentioned before, the perps are keeping up the noisestalking, and creating and amplifying extant street noise, almost at the same volume at six stories as it is at street level.

This morning before I got up, I got the logger's whistle, a particularly unique sound to that of high-lead (timber) logging where the tower sends out heavy cables and tackle to the workers in the cut-down forest, and it is the central means by which they communicate. As it so happens, this very noise occured at my last residence in the morning, and now it "erupts" here at about the same volume. Stunning that this degree of noisetracking is going on everywhere I go, and it is a noise that I was familiar with some decades ago.

The perps just finished fucking me out of both turning off the broil burner after lunch, and seeing that the broil burner was on when I checked the instruments. So, for the past 1.5 hours is has been on full, and the assholes are full measure in fucking me into this. I never, ever left a burner on before all this fucking harassment begun. And too, they like to jack up the power bills; I had mysterious increases in my power bill in Seattle that were not attributable to anything I did. And this was the source of the recent smells being put under my nose, and all the while "I" was sure that it was off. There is at least a hundred of these "dumbfuck" errors being made every day; it is either a very serious neurological condition, or blatant mind-control.

I am back from the doctor's office; nothing too out of order, though he wants me to start taking Omega 3 supplements, though he wasn't too clear as to why. The reality is that his task masters told him to tell me, as I don't think anything moves in this city without perp oversight.

It was a 30 minute walk each way, and as usual, there were the legions of color coordinated vehicles and they are also ordered by vehicle design commonality (e.g. similar front rake angle) as well as by type, SUV's, two doors etc. The record of the most red colored vehicles at an intersection in a single glance is six today. I reckon they put on at least 1000 vehicles on today's vehicular gangstalking.

It was a no big deal appointment, with me mentioning everything on cue, and them not being particularly curious. The "word du jour", the one word that was scripted for plentiful mention, was "constrained". This all started when I did my routine as to what I do all week, which isn't much even if I don't work, and I mentioned that there are various constraints in my life like, four CD players and three pairs of headphones going kaput, and that these appear to be planted sabotage to make sure that I don't listen to music. (The sound on my PC has also been sabotaged recently). Anyway, they don't appear to be listening to me much as this is all scripted, and nor are they curious as to the sheer number of technical "problems" related to partaking in music and film. I also mentioned another cinema swarming episode where the fuckers had their gangstalkers arrive late in front of me, behind me and in my row to lead to considerable disruption. Then afterward they cooked my head to put me in the most weirdest and agitated mind-state I have ever been in. (The end of going to movies there.) The doctor and case worker weren't much curious about this event either, especially given the clinical overtones.

And plenty of lead-ahead ambulatory gangstalkers when walking as well, with confluences of four to six arranged at constriction points on the sidewalk. The choreography can get quite complex, and the assholes pull this off by having their operatives pop out from behind corners in large groups. Back to this bullshit again, having already done this over four years ago for five months straight when they fucked me into hospital for no organic condition. Even the doctor at the time finally admitted that.

The short take on gangstalkers is that everyone and their plastic bag, dog, ladder (on vehicles usually), bald head and/or suit show up and gangstalk me. I mentioned this to my brother and he smirked. That sums up the props of 80% of the ambulatory or vehicular gangstalkers aside from their clothing or vehicle color.

Another stunt of greater utilization is riding bicycles down the sidewalk, usually from behind me, and then weaving around their colleagues walking in front. This time the fucker came along with his metallic brown colored bicycle on the sidewalk, and the perps usually have me yell or mutter something about getting the fucking thing on the street. Except this time, the asshole rode the sidewalk for the half block to the front of my apartment building and then loitered in the doorway, having a private stun-out moment, and then proceeded ahead of me, not making any effort to keep the door open for me. The bald headed operative then takes his bicycle to the elevators, and "I" decide to take the stairs. But just like yesterday, they had another gangstalker in the stairwell again, on me as soon as I got in, and at the corner with white plastic bags in hand. It never fucking ends.

I had another streak of activity before I went to the doctor's office; I moved the remaining boxes to my storage locker. There were three gangstalkers in the elevator at first, then I declined, and lo, if two of three were still there, having come back up, claiming they "got hijacked", har, har; if they could live a day like I do. But I am sure they know all about it; one was a female blonde, the other a black male, the two spectrum ends of the entire favored and unfavored gangstalker demographics respectively. Anyhow, my defences are fucked with, but I was allowed to disbelieve this bullshit, and got in the elevator with this "he and she" act to the basement.

The route to today's doctor's visit is the same route that I walked over the past two days, so the perps are going extra beserk in getting me out to the same locations this week. And I get to go on this route tommorow as Strength Training is scheduled twice a week, following yoga on both days. Again, no coincidence that. By the time the week is out I will have bussed or walked into the Oak Bay municipality four of five days, (five times in all), and the new norm will be twice per week. On this Tuesday's visit to the dentist, the perps put on three traffic road works, one being a total one direction lane blocking, and having the bus transit in the oncoming lane under controlled conditions.

And there is nothing better the perps like showing me that their ditch and foundation digging activity, and this was no exception. They even put one of their fuckers in this narrow 5' ditch, so just the asshole's head and yellow hard hat were showing. It was something they wanted me to see, not that I particularly cared, though it is another example of the strange juxtapositions of people and objects that they like to present.

The evening time rumbling noises have started up; after the barrage of motorcycles and buses making considerable traffic noise (amplified of course), the in-house simulated sliding glass door activity has gone hyperactive again. There is a pattern here, and no one accesses their small balconies that much at this time of day. Never mind the fact that the noise is over amplified as my sliding glass door doesn't make near the noise that "everyone else's" does. More fucking tedium.

I got mind fucked into typing out large sections of this blog twice; I hope that it is cleaned up enough to be coherent. I am getting the most absurd coughstalking as I type this. Time to call this done and blog off.

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