I Vacuum, They Vacuum

1345h
A forced and rare vacuuming just after lunch when inumerable clods of earth erupted from the undersoles of my runners when I got up to attend and eat lunch. I had been sitting for over 2 hours online and yet "somehow" none of the earth came off until I got up. Then it came in profusion, making a vacuum cleaning the only efficacious way to clean it up. And no less, I had not stepped on any soil areas today that could of picked up this dirt eruption.

Then a forced crap, my now always-on-Mondays event, at least for six to eight weeks running now. It is getting as predictable as the Monday night no sleep jerkarounds. Regular readers will know that I spend Sunday night at my parents, and am often involved in some kind of assistance activity on Mondays, and get back to my place about 1100h. This seems to be the big perp event of the week around which all the games are arranged, or at least well into Tuesday, sometimes with no intervening sleep.

After all of the above action, the perps then start up their vacuum cleaning in the hallway outside my door, and I can only assume that this is related in some way, as the occurence of residential or industrial vacuum cleaning activity around me is endemic. No doubt the vortex energies are being perturbed in some way, and that makes for more remote bioenergetics assay opportunities. Which includes mind-control, for which I note some recent advancements.

The perps can now screw with my visual recall of what is newly installed, or what was there beforehand. I never, ever had any confusion over this, going back years even, but now they can screw with anything I see, and plant the notion that it is new when it isn't, or vice versa. Another advancement of being screwed over, and that applies to all TI's or anyone else that is similarly monitored, even covertly.

Another event that the perps are also pumped about today was the time limiting force play to cause me not have sufficient time to shower or shave this morning, and only deal with my every-morning straightened hair and dental hygeine. They like it very much when I don't shave, and routinely pour on extra gangstalking on those days.

And today's morning time event was collecting plastic bags full of leaves and other garden refuse to take to the municipal composting recycle yard. Regular readers will know that the perps have an abiding obsession over planting all manner of plastics in my vicinity, and also make sure to represent them with their favorite testing colors. So... my perp-abetting mother and I packed her Ford Escape with at least 10 plastic garbage bags full of plant matter in colors of black, green-black and the "seasonal" (Halloween) orange. There was a small line up at the refuse yard, and before we secured an unloading bay a yellow backhoe came through the area for no reason, and stayed in place when we unloaded the plastic bags. Then when it was time to depart, the backhoe was on the move again, and waved us ahead to then drive through where we had parked to unload the plastic bags. Not a big deal, having a no usefully backhoe in my vicinity, but it is a constant theme of my life; vehicles sweeping ahead and behind where I park, walk, stand or are otherwise proximate. When I had my vehicle, they would even pass ambulatory gangstalkers through my just-vacated parking stall within five seconds.

1505h
More freaking games; the hot water faucet in the bathroom was remotely turned on and stream into the sink and down the drain, all the while making a crackling noise that "I" first thought was from outside in the hallway. This has happened at least four times previously, and has never been attributed to forgetting to turn the faucet off. Today, the perps set it up such that there was an annoying whine sound from the bathroom, causing me to close the brown colored door. Only later did the water streaming stunt follow. It would seem that the perps wanted this noise and water streaming to occur from behind the closed door, unlike the past capers where the bathroom door is open. Another bid deal of the continuing juvenility that has been imposed upon me since 2002.

And a morbid twist on carcasses on the TV stories and shows that I saw yesterday at my parents; the Egyptian mummy piece played twice on two different newscasts, then the wolves of Yellowstone park and their gory activities, then New Tricks, a fluffy detective show done with some intelligence where the deceased victim was eaten by cats until discovered two weeks later. Only 60 Minutes was a relief from this theme that was planted upon me, and is entirely consistent with the past perp games and themes.

1545h
More sirens again.

And there was an elevator egress obstructing stunt this morning; I had one gangstalker in the elevator with me, but that wasn't enough apparently. Some bizarre brown skinned asshole dressed in two tones of grey, acting in a zombie like fashion, completely unaware that he was impeding my exit just stood at the opened elevator door for about two seconds. Then he wandered over to the other elevator. Totally weird to see someone so vacant, like an automon of some kind. He was brown skinned and blue eyed, which made him all the more strange, and could well have been a morphover of my father, having about the same height. It has been my experience that the perps can morph an operative for skin color and facial features inside of 10 minutes. It seems that changing height and build take longer. I will often get the same height and build gangstalker at the begining and end of an activity, but the face is totally different. Or, perhaps, this is what the sickos want me to know at the time.

1755h
I finished dinner and was glad for the relief from the harassment when it was over, but I now sense that they want to continue riling me up with type sabotage as I key this in. Every step of the way the perps jerked me around, likely to maintain the riled up state they figure is so amenable to their research objectives. They did this at lunch with the inundation of the dirt clods that magically arrived ahead of time. Cleaning the forks was fucked with as one "ended up" (somehow) uncleaned, they jerked the knife out of my hands when cleaning it, they jerked with the cling wrap when I attempted to cut it and so it went. All to a continous stream of loud mufflered vehicles outside, even if too late for rush hour around here, or if the noise is not typical for rush hour, or that there is no way the noise should be that loud six stories up. Now the overhead pounding and squeaking has started up. Just like everywhere I go, no matter if a concrete and steel construction with carpeted floors, it "somehow" doesn't sound like that on an as needed basis for those sick assholes jerking me around, now nearly 5.5 years worth. Fucking insane is what they are.

2010h
A sound of a skateboard being very close has erupted; a rolling sound with a follow-on clatter, as if heard from 3' away with an open window. But no, I am six stories up with a closed window and somehow this noise is coming in way loud. It is a take-off on the overhead rumbling noise that follows me around the apartment, always being overhead. More bizarre shit.

2235h
More reading of The Secret Team by Col. L. Fletcher Prouty. The perps put on the noise when reading names, agency acronyms as well as feeding my background thoughts of no particular relevance, save to "ping" my neural network for their own investigative purposes. Now that I understand that the CIA is embedded in all of the US government agencies and military, as well as having 605 (then) military detachments or operations under cover, not to mention the substantial Air America aviation business, it does not surprise me that the perps have this same capability, perhaps even more deeply embedded. As I see it, the CIA, military and other spy and law enforcement agencies are doing the perp's bidding, whether they know it or not. A huge conspiratorial take to be sure, but when they have me covered for every second of my life, and appear to be arranging news events that takes very specific knowledge of aircraft or vehicles, it fits the pattern I have come to know.

Enough for a day, and the prospect that the perps will keep me up for a few hours tonight beckons, being a Monday.