As I type the "perp" word above, a coughing in the hallway erupts, the standardized sound that has gone on for over half a year. There has been a constant buzz of loud mufflered vehicles outside, the "performance" kind or the plain unmaintained variety. I got two of these vehicles heading the same direction in advance of crossing the street outside my apartment, having just got out of my parent's vehicle, and both of them getting out, when only my mother can drive now. It is all part of the First Feral Family gangstalking, this time outside their vehicle parked outside my apartment block so we could all hear these two loud mufflered vehicles together.
Other Feral Family highlights from yesterday were the TV pixellating in horizontal white bands of pixel spatter at the same moment the adjacent incandescent lamp was flickering. Quite the feat that. Then the blonde and attractive weather meterologist on the local news, whom the perps always like me to see and hear her relaxing vocal patter, had her face greyed in somewhat, making her look just a little freakish. Then later on "Inspector Morse", the perps banded the TV screen with variations on green and purple, making it out to be like old 35mm stock, which it isn't. Naturally, it was the faces that got this treatment, John Thaw's, and an attractive suitor that was a subplot, stoking some faint romantic interest in his grouchy character, unmarried into his late 50's. Like all TV I see, and only once per week, I see that the perps like to ensure I get continued exposure to the various Favored and Unfavored demographic group members, and "coloring" them up with faked video signal "problems" is also part of the game.
More action before I get onto the topic as detailed in today's blog title. I had a tea and chocolate break; it was preceded by overhead pounding and rumbling, as if someone could do this to 6" or more of concrete floors. Then even more pounding began, that being the cue to getting mind-fucked into yelling at the assholes, and at that moment, an anomalous muscle siezure in my right thigh started up and lasted for 10 seconds. Then while eating the chocolate, the same noises continued with added 2 cycle motorcycle noise, as if a Harley Davidson conference were on outside, and it persisted while doing the dishes. Then the hacking and coughing began in the hallway, also coinciding with other noises that I am not allowed to recall the detalils of. Just another teabreak.
Perp 2007 Accomplishments
I am getting mind-blanked while I attempt to consolidate all their seeming "accomplishments" for 2007, which translates to increased harassment capabilities. In no particular order, the perps have attained:
- 100% mind control, down to the most fleeting and reflective of thoughts, [Postscript - not true, was decieved]
- access to all my short term recall; they spent the better part of 2007 chasing down retrospective thoughts as they occured for short term events, less than a few days, and now seem to manipulate even my recall of what I did or saw only seconds ago,
- blatant exposure to seeing an object being controlled by extra-conventional gravitic means, and the perps don't cover it off with a recall blank-out or feigned fumble,
- blatant faked touchings, again, without any pretense that I "bumped" into something; the nearest "cause" can be 18" away or more,
- personal assault, attended to and logged by the local police, all to take a blood sample at a specific intersection, the wound being totally ignored by family members who had to have known this was coming, (and only two days later a multi-racial 6 person massacre in Vancouver- possible coincidence),
- more vision processing interference; an object in my peripherial vision will suddenly become "annoying" for no apparent reason, not even light and reflectance game reasons,
- more masers and plasma events in my vision; it is now constant
- all my ability to maintain a dialog of who did or thought what (me or them), and identify uncharacteristic planted thoughts can now be remotely dithered and controlled; in other words, my knowledge of me is now corruptible and manipulatible,
- all my internal self-talk dialog is totally controlled and manipulated, often with uncharacteristic associations and thoughts, typically constrained to the favorite perp themes of the day,
- any remaining abilities to trap logical inconguities and other errors of "judgement" or physicality can now be controlled and manipulated,
- "newfound" recall of long past associations that never happened before, as if my long term recall has improved, when one can be certain my mind-keepers are planting these as they have learned the patterns of my own recall and
- elightene me by way of telpathically planted notions, that are becoming persistent, and which are supported by exposure to the many props, displays, stunts and freakshow gangstalkers they arrange, and that I may have been the recipient of treatments from the infamous CIA supported researcher, Dr. Ewen Cameron of Montreal, when I lived there in the care of my parents in 1956-7, (age 2 to 3). He is widely rumored to have contact in the 1950's with the ever more infamous Dr. Mengle of Nazi death camp prisoner experimentation who appeared to have escaped and was seen in many locations in South America as well; and as a follow on,
- enlightened me in the same way as above, of possible medical tests and traumatizations to 1960 (age 6), supported in a fashion with my odd discrete and fractured memories from that time period where so many significant events cannot be recalled (e.g. arrival of brother at age 3), and also fit the pattern of the above mentioned exposure to the freakshow of Favored and Unfavored demographic group members (gangstalkers), and the huge amount of consistent "featuring" of various colors, clothing, skin tones, gait, comportment and other attributes of the ambulatory gangstalker community.
While taking the bus yesterday, the perps arranged for an Asian woman to be sitting at the bus stop at the same time. No big deal there. A grey-haired mid-fifties male was 10' away outside the glass bus shelter in his blue and white anorak doing the pacing back and forth act while sucking on a cigarette. So in effect, the three of us were in a E.-W. alignment, with the pacing act creating the most distance variability (through the safety glass) while the Asian woman and I were seated, some 3' apart. Then I get on the bus first, and lo, if all the seats had one operative (IMHO) sitting in each seat, save one where two Asian women were seated facing me. (Not many of these seat facing single deck buses in this town, but it was on the route today). One Asian woman was in a full length red coat, the other in a black down jacket with striated looking black jeans. Instead of the bus leaving, or any other feint to delay it, the bus sat at the bus stop for two minutes. And lo, if I wasn't then sitting 90 degrees from my last orientation with respect to the same pacing mid-fifties gangstalk act still outside on the sidewalk "waiting" for another bus, this time through the safety glass of the bus window. The bus finally departed, only to go through with this bizarre new habit of stopping at the next bus stop for no reason.
In the course of the bus trip, my back facing the direction of travel, I had three loitering dudes nearby, one playing a short game of peekaboo, hiding behind the rear corner air conditioning unit, not unlike the relentless games my father plays under cover of his dementia act when I visit my parents'. Later, some elderly female wierds get on, an unlikely pair of a light skinned reptilian (bug eyed) Indian woman and a Causasian sitting together across and one seat ahead. For whatever reason, they figured I was the local expert on the "Cedar Hill Church", but they were on the wrong route for that and didn't seem too moved when I told them. The two Asian girls opposite me later asked me about access to the University as we crossed its main access street, and likewise, didn't seem too concerned about it as they stayed in their seats when they could of got off and transfered if it was really where they were headed.
While on this same bus ride, I had a fugly redhaired woman sit behind me, back-to-back with the facing seat configuration and the above mentioned no-choice selection when boarding, and they pulled her some 10 minutes later, and then put East Indian woman with straight raven black hair in her place. I was effectively sandwiched with black haired women in front and behind me. With the facing seat configuration they can place someone closer to me than with the typical one-facing direction bus seats of most of the buses in this city.
As this bus was at the dusk onset time, there was no end of red color testing going on. The above mentioned female Asian's coat was opposite me as some kind of reference it would seem, and there was a huge number of red gangstalking vehicles on the route, motive or parked. And the bus route has more horizonal red neon lights circling the buildings than ever before, a plasma field inside the glass pipe that "happens" to follow the building's outer wall most often at intersection corners, the same locations where the perps devote extra gangstalking activity.
This morning, my mother was on about the red color paper shrouded potted plant she recieved last week, this appearing to be some kind of color test along with the plant material. More and more of these feints involve an object, or a gangstalker in the case of my father, being placed next to the windows and facing outside. She went on about the red color, and then that was a conversational elicitation to for me to "remember" there is a red colored ground cover product that one can place at the base of tomatoes (more red color association) to improve crop yeild. Even both my gardening slouch brothers grow tomatoes and I cannot figure out why, save the harassment and mind-fuck reaearch imperative. As mentioned in past blog postings, even the mention of a color name is often noisestalked, and it is more of a big deal of late.
The perps are on a beserk streak as I am reading about alien activity of past history, claiming that we are genetically engineered from competing alien races. The stereo music started its pounding, the street hollaring started up, the hallway coughing and hacking, and just now, an overhead pounding with a simultaneous zapping which I was made to scream about. (Muted screams, as the perps suck the air out of my diaphram as I speak to modulate the volume, doing what I would do in more normal circumstances). The big exceitement for them is this site, The Lyssa Royal Page, channelings from a psychic that describe some technical details about the origins of humans, though far from complete or cohesive. That the perps go absolutely beserk with noise and zappings while reading these pages suggests that they have a significant interest in associating what I am reading with much of what they arrange other times for me to see or hear about, e.g. racial topics (straight black hair even), marital fidelity and sexuality, and DNA (recent piece on 60 Minutes about a Caucasian farmer being distantly related to a city negro woman), etc.
It is New Year's Eve, and I got screwed out of remembering to go on the TI conference call tonight. It is also the excuse for squealing and hollaring in the hallway along with the now prerequisite concrete pounding.
The ridiculous street whistling has started up again, and in cacaphonic harmony, the overhead rumbling noise has started to play concurrently. Seconds before that I got a laser-like straightline pain in my right leg near the bone, preceded by "happening" to page down to reveal an attractive woman's face. The perps know what I like in facial features and often place them on my visited websites and then follow with round black skinned (negro) faces in ads. There is a whole lot more to this, and my normal predilections as to attractiveness and resonance of character is also under intense study. That I like call-it-as-it-is analysis without being sugar coated, sentimentalized, self-censored or otherwise bowlderized is also of intense interest, and many of the blog sites that I regularly visit exhibit just this kind of incisive perspective. And lo, if they didn't set me up with at least one blog site where the Vancouver based attractive blonde blogger had a year-end photo wrap-up, and I got to see more pictures of her and appreciate that she was more attractive (in looks and character), emotive and "together" than I had originally thought for the past six months of reading Kerri-anne. The perps like me to have these upward re-appraisals of character, and had duly noisestalked this "discovery" with overhead clunking in the prime-noisestalk time in the run-up before lunch.
Last night, I had at least a two hour infatuation session on YouTube listening to Katie Melua, which took me into the New Year. All the while, if I wasn't gazing in total admiration to her stupendous beauty, I was reading Stereophile, something I had been doing earlier this week. One could assume that the perps put together two topics of interest in one websurfing session that were each individually explored earlier this past week. There is a pattern here, though I am usually the last one to figure it out. Even the usual barrage of aggravating LCD display games were minimized last night, the most egregious being the substitution by planned "mistake" of diplaying a way fugly corded haired negro woman instead of getting Katie Melua's beautiful looks. Which is to say, this fits another pattern, putting the fugly faced, or other Unfavored demographic group members next to, or in this case, in sequence with, the Favored, and all the better that they can sing with "my" attachment/infatuation, while on YouTube.
My, or more like, my mind-fuck imposed attachment and entrancement, in this case with Katie Melua's looks, voice, personality and comportment, was groomed over the course of the late evening, and every so often the perps sneak in, by way of the video, or else by an interjected freak shot (per aforementioned negro woman above) from the Unfavored demographic group. I note that Katie Melua has a mid-aged male skinheaded drummer, and I am sure the perps made sure I got to see him plenty often in the stage videos, often bathed in red or other colored lights. Related to the above mentioned theme of upward re-evaluating my perspective on my web character world (bloggers, performers, artists, writers etc.), I was treated to a in-session clip on YouTube where Katie Melua was telling her producer, then in front of an orchestra of at least 20 members, that the key on a specific bars which she identified were incorrect. To which he agreed. The perp's intent as I read it, was to impress me all the more that Katie Melua has the technical ability and fortitude as a serious and capable artist. Not that I did not doubt that, or in any way consigned her to any lesser status as a musician, but as this was the first time I had seen her articulating her technical musical capabilites in the course of her work (studio recording), my take on her as a musician and a person increased all the more. Anyhow, it seems that the perps are wanting me to have more of these "re-appraisal" moments, in both cases, of individuals of my web world who had become familiar to me in earlier visits.
And a low-key harassment day today, New Year's Day, something most odd as the perps don't respect any kind of holidays or the like. In fact, these have been past targets where they make it worse for me, having me sleeping in my vehicle over Christmas in 2002 as refuge from the pummeling headpains as well as the parents making their vituperative complicity plain as day. And lo, if my shrink at the time didn't "somehow" know to ask me about how I spent the Christmas holidays a few days later, and then get plenty of mileage out of what "I" told her. Of course I wasn't allowed to explain all the contributory details, and nor did she objectively question me as to how it all happened. A big sick joke that, and one that has set the tone of whom I am dealing with every vital moment since the overt harassment began. The shrink then prescribed my usual stimulant medication after suggesting that I might be psychotic from the perp's impositions as to where I spent Christmas. Go figure. Afterward, Ms. C of the story jumped all over my ass while on the phone, and then after I told her about this profound medical "diagnosis"/prescription incongruity, she suddenly went into clam-up mode.
I did not lose any sleep over the fact that Christmas was disrupted then, or even now, as the perps had made sure all the players at the time revealed themselves to be sick minded despicable quislings, which they still are as long as I am allowed to hold my own opinion, which is not usually the case.
I am currently getting the mid-afternoon imposed dimness, where most of the light in the room has been sucked out, especially that over the keyboard and viewing the keys. This must be the new noisestalking, light level diminuition stalking. Though, as I type this, I have been getting the all day long loud mufflered vehicle noises, as if New Year's Day somehow brings out the hotrods for a serial session, a parade of a kind.
After getting to bed at 0030h, I got the fake neighbor revellry noises; all this bonhomie and other celebratory events somehow failed to "happen" at midnight, and only began some 20 minutes later. After that, at least four major siren cascades were scripted, worse than a nightclub area, and this is not one. As usual, they were faked, and not even the siren lights were flickered into my room, something the perps like me to see most of the time.
The perps have reverted to normal form; the above paragraph was fraught with typo sabotage, one word taking four attempts with all enforced misspellings being the same. They had me yell at them over that, and after I shut the PC down for a tea and chocolate break, they jabbed me in the dick, jabbed me in the hand, clunked the teapot and the kettle and spilled water as if there was physical contact when there wasn't, only the noise and movement thereof. Thene they had me yell at them for that stunt too, and it is back to normal, not that there was any expectation of anything different.
The anti-virus software licence renewal fuckery continues, now in its fourth day. There was no web access to the needed webpages yesterday, and after phoning today, I get another number just for licence renewals, and as it so happens, they are not open today. Same old, same old.
The enragement games slowed down again after a suitable duration; the big deal seemed to be the tea and chocolate break; they cranked me up before, during and after and then eased off before scripting me for a dinner break, beset with clunking noise. The wind also started up, and even with the now drafting taped ill-fitting window frames, the cool air "somehow" gets in to chill me. Which plays into the recent events of having me wear a sweater over a shirt for the first time in some six years; a dark olive drab acrylic sweater that somehow begot some black sewn-on label fragments that I don't recall leaving there, or even having. That is how long I have not "needed" a sweater, and it would seem this represents more complex testing of color and garment combinations. I note my father has a dark forest green cardigan on these days, and no explanation as to where it came from as he never had it before.
An "sudden" urge to post this now and prevent another recall deletion about getting it posted just before I log off for the night. There have been way too many forced "forgets" on this account as past blog postings will attest, and funny, I never had the "problem" so bad before. No doubt a number of clunkings and clickings will mark the exact moment I post this, just another day at the office so to speak.
Finally, I am allowed to read this entire posting through, and lo, if there isn't some deeply embedded repetition that I am loathe to spend another 30 minutes repairing. And I see that some of my first paragraphs were deleted, as I found an broken nonsensical reference. Part of the plan, last year and this year.