Monday, October 15, 2007

Dingey Fog

I am getting a dingey natural light in my apartment, as if there were heavy rain clouds, but it has been a foggy overcast all day so far.

I was swept up in the perp's plans where one event was on the heels of the next, despite my planning. I took up an offer of a former work colleague to visit another of our kind, one who has multiple sclerosis, MS, and has been off work since late 1991. I had not met RW since I left for Everett WA in mid-1999, though his cubicle was near mine curiously, as he had MS then.

He is now in a motorized wheelchair and cannot move his legs or his hands. His wife left him a about the time his MS became known, and I was glad to see that he had re-married as it turned out, even with being disabled. Funny how that turned out for him. He moves his chair by blowing into a puffer tube and commanding it in that way. Quite the situation.

As always, when I see someone with a debilitating disease, I wonder if the perps aren't behind this, screwing over a shill who had helped them in the past. I know RW from 1973 when I first worked in forestry, doing inventory on the British Columbia coast north and east of Port Hardy. It was quite the summer, working on a boat for much of it, and one that I recall fondly. Even then in hindsight, there were some "tells" of eratic behavior of others that fits the harassment profile.

In one instance, we were on the 60' boat in 8' swells coming in from the open Pacific to Bull Harbor, and one of the forestry crew was barfing his guts out on the rear deck, and I was getting queasy myself. I went to the rear deck where there was the least swell hoping to relieve my condition, and the other crew member gave me this studied and stern look between his barfings that I never forgot. The oddity at the time was "what did I have to do with this weather condition and his seasickness?" As it so happens, everything. The perps arranged for the sea condition, and had ensured we had this adversity in the failing evening light, and what better way to read someone's internal energetics than having them barf up? Which is why I sometimes get street barfings in my proximity in this current gangstalked life.

At least two of the crew members of that summer have "shown up" on the hiking trails I walked when I had my vehicle to drive to the trailhead. One walked past me, but shorter in height, but aged appropriately and his same beard, pretending not to know me. Bizarre. The other guy, an Asian, stood in the trail facing me with a woman beside him bending over for perp spinal energy assay reasons, and then gives me this strange flick of his eyes, insinuating something that I wasn't allowed to analyse. Nor was I allowed to be totally sure it was him, and was fucked out of saying anything. I hadn't seen him since 1974, so that was the planted rationale for "me" to say anything to him. More bizarreness, more on "my" part, as per mind-fuck games.

I told RW briefly what "happened" to me as I had returned to Victoria, as if he didn't know of course, and he wasn't too surprised about everything. Another case of the "Dog That Didn't Bark"; as in an unusual lack of interest in what would ordinarily be new news to someone; that there are organization who get run their victims out of work and a life by remote application of pain, overt harassment and other applications of extra-gravitic energies. Yep, all the time in my case, a lifetime I mean.

So, with the one minute version of my story dispensed with, and there being no "feedback", or even a "you don't say", RW did most of the talking, even if is more effortful for him than for most people. It was an hour visit, and many of the perp's favorite themes got a mention; health care costs and possible future financial issues, disablement, no use of hands or feet, and a few others the perp's like me to be exposed to, it was time to go.

As it "so happened", the visit took longer than I expected, (or, was led to expect), and although I had an arrangement to phone my brother when I got back to pick me up, he was already waiting in his white trades van at the curb, just behind where I got out of my work associate's vehicle, a white Honda with a red interior. I conferred with my brother about needing to get my belongings from my apartment, and then I re-joined him to then go to our parent's place where some carpet moving and rolling was to be done. My mother purchased new chairs and carpet, with the latter delivered only the day before and on top of the old one in the living room.

This made for much bending over (a favorite perp position for gangstalking), floor sweeping (dirt rolling around like ball bearings for "some reason"), and was an excuse for my father to pretend he was helping, along with his dementia act, which appears to be highly selective, something the perps want me to know about it seems. So, after moving furniture and unrolling and rolling carpet, with the old one remaining rolled up in the living room still, the job was done.

Then later, in some kind of vague statement of my mother's, my daughter and my ex came for dinner, unexpectedly from what I was told. Call it First Feral Family gangstalking with the new carpet in place, and the old one rolled up beside it. And in another dint of arranged happenchance, my mother is having her spinning group visit tonight, just to that group of past gangstalkers can sample the new carpet/color scheme. It is all very curious. Then I get to help out later this week and move them out, presumably with my brother's help, and humpf it into his van.

The new carpet has the perp's color scheme all over it; an abstract pattern with brown, dark red, mustard yellow with 2" black strands running through it. Straight from their design studios it would seem, and it suggests more long term commitment to harassment to me.

My daughter was putting on the cranky act, like she does nearly everytime, and for this dinner it was that she needed to get back to complete her homework. Normally she isn't cranky with me as our interaction is constrained to be so minimal, but it is a regular event, just like the paternal dementia act.

Anyhow, there were plenty of masers and plasma beams flitting about, and it really wasn't different than any other visit with all the dodges and feints, coordinated movements between my parents, my father malingering in the doorway in some kind of pose, doing absolutely squat and putting on the confused act. Trouble is, he does the same beat everytime I visit, when I am in the living room watching TV.

The drive back to my place downtown was the usual highly orchestrated vehicle parade; rush hour levels of traffic in arranged colors and vehicle types at 1000h in the morning, with my mother talking it up as to how busy the area is now. Har, har; in fact it is tiresome. It is busy around me, in a highly orchestrated way, and her pals are getting less interested in keeping a veil of normalcy going. Just before I parked her vehicle at the curb to get out, a white 5 tonne delivery truck was doing an U-turn in the road, and just after I got out, a mid-grey large van was doing the same thing in the same location, only 20' from where I was.

Then once I got to the apartment lobby I had five of the operatives on me, and one coming in from behind, and then the elevator got diverted from the main floor only a second before I pressed the elevator button. This then was the excuse for the rest of them to linger around, and I even had a male and female black matching leather jacket "team" handing a vile red plastic bag at arm's length to each other, then one getting off at the 2nd floor, and the other one after me. Another two operatives joined me in the elevator, with their coffees in hand, and then got into the banter as to how busy this apartment is, and how the manager keeps it full all the time. Har, har; more funnies, as I have yet to be convinced that there is anyone in this 12 storey apartment block but me, improbable as that may seem. But it does fit the pattern of the last two buildings where there appeared to be no consistent tenancies beside mine.

After that total swarming by all these operative assholes in the lobby and the elevator I was more than glad to be back at my place. It is most odd there is a continuing increase of males who have "no work" to do, and roam the streets and stores at the very hours that they would typically work. This is mainly a higher density residential area, with some retail, and yet these dudes are constantly parading around during weekday hours. I won't make any comparisons for weekends, but I do know what this end of town is like for weekdays, and it is bizarre that there are so many ambulatory pedestrians.

My afternoon tea and chocolate was duly harassed to rile me up; very slender wires of the metal foil wrapper "erupt", ones I could no possibly of cut myself, chocolate crumbs arrive from nowhere, and also resist being picked up by leaping out of my fingers. Then the perp's ram my knee into to the table let to shake it up, and many other extra-gravitic assaults add up to enraging me, just what they always want. A fucking lifetime of this, and then the assholes crank it up. All to an increased noise background; rattling diesels, car alarms, bus transiting, heavy duty vehicles and so it goes.

The perps are laying on extra mind-controlled chocolate consumption, back to the afternoon intake as well as breakfast time. As mentioned in past blog postings, I have experienced a short period where I couldn't stand the smell of it, but that "somehow" dissipated and it is a "must need" food item, presumably so the perps can get more brown food closer into my brain, as it would only be less than an inch away from the roof of my mouth.

This isn't unlike all the operatives and the shills packing, or even rustling, plastic bags in my proximity, which I assume is to somehow act as a close-in reference, or even interact with any body tissues that are polluted with these same plastics. Not my problem, so why am I being harassed over it?

There won't be any answer that I get, as fronting for this depravity of mind and life harassment and trashing is something the perps will not do. Though they must declare themselves to a large number of the shills to guide them in their swarming activities, and likely, driving the gangstalking vehicles. I have seen old biddies make the most audacious moves in their vehicles, so their vehicle must be controlled, and they don't seem too shocked by someone else taking risks they are unfamiliar with. I have also seen driver shills being surprised that their vehicle horn went off for no reason, so I can only assume that they didn't know at the time it was going to happen.

The last of the pictures from two days ago for a 15 minute round trip to the grocery store.

Some arranged parking next to the grocery store; the whites, silver-grey, and black colored vehicles are often used as a seeming color reference to a string of parked or mobile vehicles of other colors.

This was a cluster of three white vehicles when it was stopped at the traffic control, but the light changed just as I got the camera ready, so I can only assume that the other white vehicle is behind the camper van that did not move any for the green light, but just sat there, probably for that very reason. At least two same color mid-grey vehicles are parked further to the left.

The central figure in red shows the new modified way to pack groceries for Asian operatives; sling the white plastic bags over one's back, one each side. The operative in the grey pants and the black jacket behind him must be "sweeping" behind, a technique the perps often use, where a more dependable reference color is sent in behind, ahead, or both, of the "featured" gangstalker. This grocery bag slinging would also be a case of brown skin, red clothing, and white plastic; a "sandwich", of stacked colors and materials, which is presented to me as combination, much as the perps do with their alignment of gangstalkers in various colors of clothing.

Outside my window, mid-October, and camping season is still going strong. That is, if one has a predominantly white colored RV, and has some bizarre reason to park it in a too-short parking stall, at about 1700h on a weekday. A silver grey vehicle is behind the red foliated tree, a constant game for the perps, and it does make me wonder how that was arranged so well. And a pair of wheelchairs is at the street corner, one in the teal green color jacket, another common event I get to see, "wheelchair pals" on the streets for chrissakes. It would also seem that the orthogonal street starting from the left side and running back has some arranged parked vehicles; whites, some silver greys possibly, but not as highly noticeable as in the past.

Major harassment in getting the above photos into this blog. The perps had me open yesterday's blog after initiating upload, and lo, if "somehow", the photos ended up in the wrong blog posting. Then that harassment wasn't enough; the perps hid the cursor off screen, and the photos couldn't be placed where I wanted to initially, but instead flipped to somewhere else. The cursor behavior was finally returned to normal, and I was allowed to place the photo. Then this went on for each photo in turn, and I was mind-fucked into being totally irate over this, just being readied for making dinner, another rage-ification scene of late.

The perps decided to treat me to a new harassment, applying a force to the toe of my right runner, as if it had been mashed into the kick area below the cupboards. But my toe, in my runner, wasn't contacting anything. After I got pissed about this, mind-fucked into vocalizing my complaint, the perps then decided to apply force fields to my back and jab me in the gut, all at the same time. This is so consistent now, pissing me off before meal time, while making it, then when eating it, then when doing the dishes, and then again when getting back to the PC afterward. A sustained run of this to take the perps over the pre to post meal time, one of their "problem" situations, meaning that there is something about the color interaction and digestion processes they cannot yet fuck with. So they enrage me instead, as the whipping boy for their juvenile depravity, and further demonstrating their thanklessness for a lifetime of harassment.

And no keyboard was delivered today, which should make it ripe to arrive tomorrrow afternoon when I am out, and thereby prolong this continuing stunt going by past practice. See past postings as to how no confirming order email was sent, and my phone notice that it is shipping on 10-12-2007. An all time first for me in ordering online; to have no confirming email or order replicate. For the $15 shipping, I am pissed it cannot make it here to Victoria in two business days with a two day weekend between them.

More music tonight, and other toilet travails, just the usual. And overhead pounding and other noise with the headphones on, not to mention some odd sounds coming in to them. Maybe some other neural mind-fuck games going on too.

Time to call this blog posting done for the day, and hopefully get some sleep tonight, though I am not sure how the usual Monday night sleeplessness imposition is going to pan out.

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