Wednesday, June 06, 2007

Another Take on Wobbling

This is an update to yesterday's blog on "wobbling". I now get routinely wobbled by some unseen and unbidden force at anytime. It is not at the debilitating level thankfully, but even walking or making a corner in my studio sized apartment can get me wobbled, and usually forcing extra steps and balancing to right myself.

And when doing exercise in the form of yoga and strength training (lunges and one footed floor exercises) I get an even greater degree of remotely applied gravitational fuckery. Having done two legged lunges with small free weights (7.5 lb x 2) for over 10 years, I cannot see how I could be continuing to be imbalanced except by covert means. And, this is getting worse; the pushes that I get are coming at me laterally, and don't relate to an organic balance problem. And if I am on one leg in doing either of these forms of exercise, the perps go all out in imbalancing me. I am always the worst in the class for one legged balancing, and that goes back over 10 years. It is best not to bother, and keep both feet on the ground, even if I am one of the more flexible class members.

I have been getting the chin-dinging fuckery all morning so far; this is remotely applied spasms to my chin, usually in concert with arranged noise, thoughts and recall related to harassment, and any other deemed "coincidence" (e.g. writing and sending emails, some to TI's). On the list of objectionability, this particular item rates a low 3 of 10, but it does serve the purpose of being reminded that I am under the microscope in anything I do.

I notice more paving "activity" has been going down in the neighborhoods that I frequent, and as best as a lay person can tell, it seems to be for no express functional purpose, except for the ashphalt and concrete games that go on constantly in my proximity. Yesterday a strip down the center of a residentail area was scraped out, 2" deep, exposing deeper asphalt. The scraper machine was nearby, and only one block parallel to the location of yesterday's yoga class.

The sickos have driven this very scraping machine down the street as I am walking by, so I assume that it is charged with "asphalt energy", and the fuckers want to see what kind of energetic interaction there is with me, pulsating and plasma-ing as I type this. Now that the scraping machine is posted a block width (100') away from the yoga class, and on the opposite side of an apartment building, this suggests that the fuckers are improving their energetic detection methods at a greater distance than previously. I routinely see vehicles being swapped in and out at some 250' away, and this is likely the reason they put me 6 stories up.

I did the chicken run earlier; first I was fucked out of remembering to that it would be this morning, and after putting the cutting board out and the frypan on the stove, only then was I allowed to recall what I knew- time to buy a new cooked chicken.

I got my first gangstalker in the elevator, the old fart hop-along act this time with his mustache colored yellow, normally being white like the rest of his hair. He is an "open mouther", that is his assigned role in exposing his mouth contents and associated energetics, and he was true to form. He has lobby or elevator stalked me at least six times now, and holds the record for this building apart from the manager. Not bad for one month's work, looking stupid AND crippled.

Then a half block to the grocery store, and as the door opened, a woman in a walker came belting out, nicely timed to the part of the door that opened outward, and quite the seeming risk for one who "needs" a walker. Two of the fuckers were crisscrossing my path to the chicken counter, and they were only readying me for six of the fuckers loitering at the chicken counter, "deliberating". This in a grocery store at 1130h.

And I got fucked on the chicken again; only one whole chicken in the free range line. Normally there is at least 8 or more such hot cooked chickens at the counter, but now, like last time, only one. Then onto the checkout to get the fuck out of there, and gosh, if there wasn't two mysterious males in front of me, one giving me the kindly stare, as if he were a man of the cloth (minister). This fuck also had a hot cooked chicken on the checkout conveyor belt in the same packaging as mine.

Then the fucker immediately in ahead of me had his extra floppy bicycle helmet and his red backpack. The latter item served as his excuse to take longer at the checkout packing his groceries while the asshole behind me moved to within 6" of me while I got finger fucked in dealing with my change. Essentially, the perps had me pinched between two red wearing or toting male gangstalking operatives by having them inordinantly close in social terms, one dithering with his groceries, and the other butthole surfing almost.

And as I was silently badmouthing the fucker in front of me, he turns his head to the side for no reason but to time his "apparent knowledge" of what I was thinking (read, planted routine) with my mental considerations of his "dither at the checkout delay". This has happened at least three times before; a previous example was where an operative suspiciously looks like a former foresty colleague, and as I inaudibly mouth his disparaging nickname from some 12' away, he turns his head as if he heard it, which he didn't. They love to put on that they heard something when they haven't, and alternatively, with my parents, the opposite. As regular readers will know, my sick minded parents who cast me into this fucking nightmare, routinely put on the dumbshit act to force repeating what I say, most often two repeats. It is fucking sick that I am not allowed to converse with anyone. On reflection, this has happened to me so often, that I now realize it was all arranged. The "what-what" fuck.

There were a few more freakshows outside going to the grocery store and back, but as this entire colorstalking show was so short, it isn't worth it to add in the waddlers, headspinners and the abandoned shopping cart with a green plastic crate placed for maximum exposure next to the ground down sidewalk portion (formerly a hump between the slabs). I notice that there were two oversized shopping carts in the store, as they are normally a smaller kind better adapted to the tighter layout.

The grocery store has been entirely repainted in a metallic silver grey color, the number one vehicular gangstalking color, and that of my former vehicle, now owned by my daughter. I assume this distinctive color is to enhance the ongoing energetics fuckery, as I cannot imagine that anything within three blocks of me being allowed to be modified without express perp permission, if not direct arrangement.

Anyhow, it back to the noise show; the bus service has doubled since I moved in, and has been very consistent in making the same amout of noise whether the window is closed or open.

A tea break, a phone call to my brother who "forgot" about our arrangement for today, and then a holy battle (rage levels) with the perps all over being allowed to pick up papers (stamps, check, invoice statement). They fucked me over so I wasn't allowed to pick up a piece of paper in less than four attempts. Then they mind controlled me into a rage state, all over paying a bill for dental cleaning. This happens all the time I write out checks and other financial instruments, and today was no exception. And the dentist's office ignored my change of address, and then when writing it out for them, I was rage and noisestalked all the more. The dental assistant is always efficient and I don't believe that she could of screwed up an address change herself. Just another fucking go-round with the sick assholes who make my life their playground for their depraved games.

Another playground for the warped assholes is loading software, commercial software, and have it "fail" over a driver or some dumb thing. Or else it loads with missing functionality. I have even phoned the tech support of small software houses, and their version of what I got differs radically from what got loaded. More fucking insanity from the assholes who are too gutless to out themselves.

I am pie-eyed, having drunk four glasses of wine before and with dinner at my ex's, as it was our daughter's 17th birthday. Though I strongly suspect that the perps are exploiting this opportunity to render me more incapacitated for their own reasons. This has been a habit of theirs in the past, where even two glasses of wine "caused" me to be severely looped for over an hour.

As usual, I was in the role of knowing whatever utterances "I" had to say were scripted, and that the entire course of events was rehearsed. As it so happened, the Stanley Cup, the final game was on at times, as the ex's daughter and family came over, making five children from 10 to 8 y.o., and four adults. My parents could not make it, doing post air-travel sickness and jet lag from their return from the UK three days ago. Post-flight is another time the perps like to lay on flus and colds, and they have done this nearly everytime for the last 10 years, save the last commercial air travel flight I made in 2002.

My ex talked a lot about my father's Alzheimer's, as he seemed especially disoriented when she saw them earlier today. And all the time, I was thinking is this another bullshit run, or is he as dithered as he makes out, because he can lay on the extra impairment act to the point of being too timely. And my brothers always think this topic is a hoot, lapsing into quiet smirks and not contributing to any dialog as to what should be done. Anyhow, I still think his dementia is an act, and he can gangstalk just as well as any operative or other family member.

There were the usual feints and games; placing coffee mugs exactly behind the wine bottle, standing with the light fixture directly behind the person I was talking to. (And the same light fixture had been arranged to have some of the halogen bulbs pulled as well as the globe around it. And if I moved away from this setup, so did the person I was talking to. Totally bizzare, each of us in the conversation knowing this was a fucking setup, and both responding in the same manner to maintain it, me running out of room to move myself while still in my chair.

And "I" (read, mind controlled planted thoughts) about the blended family of my stepdaughter and husband; between them, two children with red hair, and both gradually putting themselves into view, and eventually moving in closer for more red hair time. That got me to wonder just how much all these familial relations have been arranged as to hair color, and the amazing coincidence of my daughter's blonde boyfriend dying his hair black.

And the hair color continues to be a big thing for the perps; when heading out to my ex's on the bus they put four Asian girls in front of me, one with natural black hair, and three with varying degrees of brown highlights coloration, all slightly different. One passenger got off with me and followed me into the subdivision, which is generally rare for that route. And one red anoraked bus "traveller" followed me from my apartment building to the bus stop, getting onto an earlier bus. I got plenty of "fellow travellers" for the bus around me at the bus stop as encircling me was the usual routine. A negro woman with a fat lip was planted at the bus stop bench, but she got pulled within 3 minutes for reasons that the perps know best. They also put on a negro dude in the lobby of this apartment building when I got back, his second such jawing appearance so far. Anyhow, I am made to feel that I am still under the influence of my four glasses of wine, and I am lucky if the above is going to be coherent.

It was the usual minimal father-daughter interaction dictate again; nothing much of substance is allowed, and only about 5 minutes of genuine connection time before other visitors arrive and change the dynamic altogether. Even the cat doesn't get a cameo, which is the new norm for whatever reason. And most curiously, no one asks how am I doing, which can mean referencing one of two things; the faux clinical scenario, or else, dealing with the assholes of depraved evil, aka perps. There was some war memorial talk at the table; the recent Canadian 90th anniversary of a significant battle of WWI, Vimy Ridge, was discussed for a time. And I always think it odd that whatever I say doesn' lead to anything more; as if I am the pariah, and then once I do my mind-fucked piece, then onto the next scripted topic. The entire nature of the conversation has changed among the participating individuals to this obscene fuckery called "mind-control in the family".

I get to do a shorter version of being sociable tommorow; at yoga and strength training, and having less verbal interaction which is the way I prefer it, rather than being the poster-boy for the sickos who won't show their gutless faces.

I am getting a yawn attack, and with that, the white light off this LCD display is emitting plasma beams under the cover of being a visual abberation. Ditto earlier while at my ex's; plasma beams were emanating from the halogen light fixture in the guise of being some kind of abberation of my glasses. And I should note, the perps make sure I keep my glasses clean as they are always exploiting any possible facet to be the deemed "cause" as to why multiple white beams are appearing. And while that was re-read, I got a simultaneous combination of the overhead rumbling noise and the putative brake squealing of a bus outside.

More of these combination noises are "happening"; as blogged three days ago, they put on two disimilar aircraft in formation to buzz my parent's house while I was there, and the perp need seemed to be the combination noise of the two aircraft.

And while I am blogging here; it is time to call this done for the day, and leave it much as it is, even if I am mind-fucked out of reviewing what I have written.

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