Digging Holes and Related Perp Fascinations

1735h
I got back after lunch and then digging a hole and planting a tree at my in-town brother's place. If that sounds dull to you, and it does to me, it is an activity of untold obsession for the perps, and they did pull out the stops to create noise, brotherly gangstalking, a massive crap attack and thankfully, only a modicum of harassment via extra-conventional means. I have at least one more tree to plant at his place, likely tomorrow, and no doubt that will be also plagued with excessive perp fuckery. Then I got to take the bus home, dirty pants and shirt as per extra harassment games, and lo, if there weren't 30 of the fuckers on the bus, heading into town, unbeliveably, at 1540h, and not the ususal kids from school, but the shiftless middle age male farts faction of the perp gangstalker/operative demographics. And two negros on the bus that they did not pull inside of 5 minutes of my boarding, oddly, though it was at best a 15 minute ride. One negro came on board after I did, was dressed in white overalls (absurdly), and stood 3' from the first negro, there when I I boarded. Anyhow, the bus trip freakshow was matched by the freakshow downtown when I got off, including lead-ahead gangstalkers, more in use now, who somehow are able to walk faster than I can, when I must be one of the faster walkers going. Another mind-fuck no doubt; the perception of walking fast when I am not.

After I dug the hole for the tree, and after my brother had left for work, there was a "sudden" (read, imposed) need to take a crap in his ill-kept (scuzzy) bathroom, and what a large colon cleansing crap it was too. This would of purged the lunch that I ate two hours earlier at his place, as it is clear to me that my digestion can be sped up by remote invocation. And lo, if the toilet didn't partially back up and leave me with a remaining log-like portion, not unlike the root fragments I was chopping out from the hole I had dug. This replication of size and general shape, in this case cylindrical objects from one task (cutting roots out) to another (taking a shit with a custom shaped remnant) has occured before. The perps often left turd sized sticks on my regular hiking trails, and have resumed this shape inspired "synchronicity", aka managed object similarity games.

And too, I was forced to take a shower in his scuzzy bathtub with a horrid red shower curtain, and more horrid tracings of red in his white acrylic shower stall. And even some pink towels for chrissakes, but I used the dull yellow ones instead. So after this phenomenal de-pooing and cleanup, I was then allowed to plant this 4' juniper tree in a location to add to his privacy screen along his fence with his neighbor. Said neighbor cut down a healthy birch tree on his side of the fence, and that begat all this orchestrated panic of my brother's over his "privacy" problems. Though in fact, this renovation smacks of the perps going all out for their building energetics games, attempting to understand body to building energetics interaction when they don't yet know earth and soil to body energetics. Hence, all these gangstalkers on me, around me, on their cell phones, and in front of me nearly everytime I enter or exit a building. They had at least 10 fuckers on me including the shopping cart loaded with plastic and pop cans act this morning. All for crossing the road outside my apartment and walking in, a whole 10 seconds of activity time.

Of interest, besides making me sweat substantially more than normal, fogging up my glasses (especially when my brother was close by in a back lit situation), running streams of mucus out of my nostrils and other related physiologic fuckery, was the noise association of the next door mega-renovation to my activities. The noise started up for any of root chopping, twisting, and pulling, for scraping the rock with the shovel (creates energetic events of sparking), and the coup de gras, when I applied brown colored granular bonemeal to the dug hole before placing the tree in it. All I have to say on this is that I have dug many hundreds, if not thousands of holes in the ground for fences, landscape plants, alpine turf placement (as part of a summer job), and many other like events, and it is time that the assholes running my life got a life. I have been fucked enough over this a related activities for ambitions that are in no way related to any choice I have made. Not my problem, so go screw your own kind.

The ultimate fuckover for digging holes was the infernal farm my ex was so keen to acquire, and was the last realestate I bought, or was mind-fucked into buying more like, with her. Over 600' of trench was dug by an excavator to lay 2" PVC water pipe, and also communication pipe. I spread the sand in the base of the trench, laid all the pipe and the connections and joints, configured all the junction boxes, and the rest of it. Then I spread sand over top before the excavator then buried it, and I cleaned up the surface of it. That was a $5000 job along with other excavations to clean up the place, and it was on on my line of credit for over 5 years later, still being paid down, until my mother paid it out last year. Along with the extensive divorce costs for getting rid of that fucking idiot, a planted shill and all-round chaos engendering asshole by the time everything washed out. So in other words, I have dug enough fucking holes for this malevolent psychopathic agency, so my message to them is to show your face, get your ass on the job, and solve your fucking problem yourselves. Not my choosing, not my problem.

And that above riposte, if it wasn't planted by mind-fucking in the first place, will get me absolutely nowhere, and I will be duly gangstalked and literally harassed up the asshole for the forseeable future, two more years as best as I can estimate the continuing buildup of harassment infrastructure activity. A new aerial mast was noted in downtown today, and red painted no less for some curious reason.

And I got plenty of brotherly gangstalking while helping him out; fussing around me, asking stupid questions (to obtain reasoning and vocalizations from me), and the rest of the setups over placement of drinking water for me, moving my fleece vest that was out of the way, bringing out my prybar (a renovation tool, not a gardening tool) that "somehow" was left at his place in past storage of my belongings at his place, and the rest of his orchestrated pandering.

And if I sound peeved, it is only because I had a more sedate round of this earlier in the day, at my parent's place, having breakfast there with my mother in all her feints, coughing and sneezing while I was still in bed and then it suddenly abated when I was up. My father was dispatched to a day care for dementia patients. Not that I think he really has it, as he was up to his usual pacing around last night, and that infernal game of planting himself in a doorframe, and then partially moving in and out of it. This is a slightly darker brown of clothing than he wore last week. As usual, my mother was crossing my path, just before or after I would occupy the same floor location in this tiring infringement of where I am, so that it can be immediately duplicated as much as possible by a shill or quisling.

Time to add some more pictures as to what was shaking last week when driving the fossils on a week away, and visiting the out-of-town brother and his gangstalk schtick. And to no surprise, the evening slipped by and this didn't unfold as intended, and that this little mind-fuck played out exactly the way it was intended, affirmed by the loud clunking that erupted as this conclusion was made.

2215h
More siren games, and at least the third major cascade this evening. Very often the perps will have the siren noise abruptly stop, and then resume it in odd timed bursts. On other siren events they will switch the siren noise to a chirping howl, and then revert to the first siren noise type in short order. Obviously, a whole lot of planning, science and expectations are built around this relatively innocuous noise assault type. In other words, not a big deal.

Time to call this a posting, and also stop this faint crackling sound of no ostensible cause that has erupted as I type with any permitted proficiency.