Wednesday, September 05, 2007

A Late Start and Late Web Access

I was scripted to get up at 0900h, amounting to a 10 hour sleep, two hours extra, and likely to delay my start time to match up with my mother driving into town to get her discount tea, and pick me up to house sit when my father came back from his Alzheimer's day care, as she was out then. And so, I didn't get online until 1730h or so, which is almost 10 hours later that usual. It seems, that the perps wanted to constrain online access until much later in the day, which they did in part because the PC at my parent's place is abominably slow, (read, ripe for perp mendacity with a plausible cover story).

And so, when she came I had just finished showering, shaving and dental hygeine, a threesome of activities that the perps devote no end of remote assay efforts to understand in energetic terms. They will even fly the zinger masers (small blackish fuzzy balls) into my mouth, and I regularly (everytime, and more than once) have the filamentous maser variant emanate from my face to then pass through the shaving foam, face cloth, razor blade or any combination. So, translated into perp terms, they got me out of my apartment on the heels of my (later) morning routine, and that made me more of an inviting target it would seem. I got the manager gangstalking me in the elevator, still pretending to not know my name (har, har), and he was wearing a black shirt over a green one, with black pants to accompany me down to the lobby.

As it turned out, my mother had not yet got the tea, playing the vagueness angle to the last possible moment, but then I wasn't hurried in my morning routine either, thinking she would arrive to disrupt it. Funny how she knew I had enough time, as I had phoned her in advance, and she said she would be departing within minutes, usually not sufficient time to undertake all what I had intended. Anyhow, it worked out, and I drove the one block to the city parkade while the ambulatory gangstalkers who arrived for my exit from the apartment building to her waiting vehicle were allowed to catch up and cross the street in front of us at the crosswalk while I waited for the green light. A very common perp gangstalk method, having a second gangstalking having been held up.

As usual, they put on the dudes in their mouth and tongue games, not to mention head turnings and spinnings, and besides, what on earth would they be doing out in a residential block at 1000h on a weekday, all dressed up?

Soo.... the parkade was duly stocked with color coordinated clusters of vehicles, per "normal", as in the the distorted reality normal; silver greys, reds, whites, blacks, greens, and the odd brown vehicle, and navy blue also. (I sleep on a navy blue colored matress).

And when on the street there was a constant flush of ambulatory male gangstalkers, coursing about, and doing their little acts of path crossing, evenif blantantly odd. And one gangstalker on the brown color referencing, packing a stack of flattened cardboard boxes. Again, plenty of color coordination among the freaks and the rest of the salaried pretenders. And guess what color was featured? It was green; they lined themselves up, then split apart, trying differing greens and combinations and permutations, walking between us and around us, and getting plenty of right side passing on me, where they get ambulatory gangstalkers coming head on to pass me on my right side, as usually I stay on the rightmost track on the sidewalk, being fed up with this game all the time. And of course my breakneck gait was amply slowed down in walking with my mother, another golden perp opportunity, as there are not many people who walk as fast as I do, likely by perp design of course.

Just like yesterday at the gym; they had three widely differing green shirted males clustering together in the same N. location that they normally have the red shirted gangstalkers.

And in the interests of perpetuating the vague, my mother suggested having a coffee at this location, mainly known for its teas, Murchies. And so we spent an hour or so, and lo, if another shift of males wasn't in place at least two tables, many wearing green. And where do all these swarms of working age males come from on a weekday, working time? There seems to be no end of them, and not even a blonde "starter stalker". And as the gangstalking progresses, the more of a freakshow it becomes; the obese, redhaired, chinless, big hatted, in wheelchairs/walkers, "cool dudes" in shades, and a few other demographics, some that pertain to skin color. One was a very light skinned Asian, a most unusual specimen.

And in one of the "stand there" stalkers with coffee cup held in front of him, arranged in a mid sidewalk cluster to thread through, was a fellow I know who I hired a few times in my long past house ownership days, as he is a journeyman plumber. And lo, if my parent's downstairs toilet wasn't malfunctioning this morning, and later, when later back at her place, my mother asked me to see if I could fix it, and if not, call a plumber, saying that I could make the choice. She got the word "plumber" in a few more times before she left, not to mention the perps planting the name and image of the aforementioned plumber in mind; it was a theme for the day.

And never mind me working over the toilet tank to fix the mysterious problem of the chain tightening up and "somehow" and causing the flap valve to stay open. The chain connecting the lever and the flap valve had been turned repeatedly, and it had kinked up on itself by some dint of magic the perps pulled in the night, likely from a remote location. I call it "toilet time"; working on it so to hang around there for more than the usual visit. And don't forget that an East Indian apartment repairman came to fix my toilet when I first moved in, he getting some brown skinned toilet time, and other energetic interaction considerations.

And that was all very prosaic as my father came back at about 1500h, and the first thing he did was pull the (brown) teabags from the sink that had been left there, the perp's notion of an entre to having hot tea some 20 minutes later. My father laid on the Alzheimer's bullshit real thick, pretending not to know what to do with a knife, but getting another one, and the brown cutting board with it. Then he pretended not to know what to do with the red jam, but got marmalade out of the fridge instead, and then used the dinner knife to cut the toasted scone down the middle. Everything he did (clutching teapots, placing marmalade on the jam on the toast, removing his scone from the plate and placing it on the tablecloth etc.), no matter how irregular, was totally perp focussed and within the scheme of their jerkarounds I see or hear all day. And it seems that he supplies obvious clues as to this being a total act; as he knows some things, and not others, all to create a scene and have me yelling at him, this time as to what a fucking knife was and that it was right under his hand. Also, if he can get me waving and pointing, what his confreres do all the time, it is better for the perp fuckover games.

Then he went extra silly and asked me at least five times if I wanted to go out for a walk. By then, he was doing his agitated bullshit act, in light colored brown clothing no less. Finally my mother came home, but not after my father had "inadvertently" locked the front door, another detail that he "somehow" remembered. Just one big fucking perp game, all his highly irregular behavior, all to further this sick minded fuckover depravity.

I have been walking slower and in some pain today; the perps used yesterday's 6 minute treadmill run as an excuse to hammer me with muscle cramps in my calves, all the better to track neural activity with, the injection of pain. And don't I know that one; should I grab something, "somehow" my fingers always find the sharp corner, even when there isn't one. And also, plenty of crumbs "find their way" under my fingers, and I have no idea where they come from. More tactile sensations to add to neural energetics studies in realtime from a remote location, IMHO. Those, and the ever more increasing jabs in the ass or dick, all depending on what the cover story is (sometimes), or likely other parameters for which I am not aware of.

And I took the bus back from my parent's place to downtown, and lo, if the buses were early and I missed two of them (opposite directions, but sharing the same inbound thoroughfare), and had to wait some 20 minutes while at least a500 gangstalking vehicles coursed by in formations (per same description, above ), this in a large subdivision area, at 1630h, too early for the commuters, and no cover story for the downtown bound road traffic. Then, the perps slowly stacked the bus with over 40 passengers, when 4 would of been the normal load for that direction and time of day. The usual color coordinated gangstalkers, as well as the aforementioned demographics again. And lo, if my daughter's pre-school teacher of 10 to 12 years ago didn't "somehow" arrive on the bus and sit next to me, pretending not to know me, she of brown skin, being from the Phillipines. Call it familial gangstalking, and likely for comparative purposes, as my duaghter was never subjected to the same humiliations and developmental traumatizations as I was. And as I typed that, a huge siren cascade erupted.

Four days ago when I took the bus to my parent's, the perps put on a negro woman gangstalker, and then pulled her off inside of three stops, as I suppose, too much "brown" power was coming off her, and my neural cells, steeped in traumatizations related to that color were somehow reacting, though again, I am not consciously aware of anything. And it seemed that I called this particular stunt in advance in this blog posting, and can anyone tell me as to how that could be construed as a clinical condition? Especially when I have seen this gambit at least a dozen times. Sometimes, I need to brag when I can predict the perp plans in advance.

The apartment manager just went on a door pounding mission earlier to tell everyone that the water will be shut off all day tommorrow, another perp orchestrated event that has followed me over the past four residence locations. And yes, the perps have a huge fixation over water, where it goes, where it comes from, and I suspect the month long (or more) boil water advisory in Vancouver last year was also an orchestrated stunt. After all, the perps wouldn't pull that in this town as they would lose local support, so why not a surrogate location of Vancouver, and a larger population as well. And could it be that the perps want to fuck me out of doing the laundry in the morning tomorrow? (And as I wrote that, I got a jab in the ass and more of the faux "neighbor" water use noise.)

And I learned that my daughter sold the vehicle I gave her last year, my 1982 Volvo 245 I ran for over 16 years, funny she did not say anything two days ago when I talked to her on the phone. My ex says she will get something more "driveable", which translated, means something more suited to nonstop vehicular gangstalking. Maybe I will make a color prediction; black or green. And maybe said vehicle will "show up" around me more often, perhaps "someone" in the neighborhood bought it. (Forgive me, I am still pleased with myself about predicting the gangstalking action above, and cannot help myself in making more predictions). And my ex says she will use the money for something else and is most appreciative of the money. Har, har; imagine what I could do with it, like stay out of the red.

Time to call this done for the day; though I did get some variety, even if it was a gangstalking freakshow.

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