Thursday, February 21, 2008

An Early Morning

I haven't had a 0630h get-up time in recent memory, but today, the perps wanted the sunrise breaking while I was in the bathroom so they could play sunbeam games as it struck the brown steeel door jamb, and "somehow" cast a 10" vertical beam 1/4" wide on my upper left side chest area. I don't know why the perps like to pull these stunts on my left side so much; about 90% of the pore-bleeds and related faux shaving nicks "erupt" on my left side.

Another round of beeping and noise outside, likely grooming me for yoga in 50 minutes; the vehicular traffic noise has ramped up considerably since last week, and the grinding noise stopped. No doubt this relatively new venue is still being "worked over" in terms of noise priming.

On the "bread stalking" front of yesterday, my parent's had a plastic wrapped loaf out and positioned precisely at the edge of the counter at the entry to the kitchen, bringing on the games of last week when a loaf was placed at the very corner of a building at an intersection. I have yet to figure out what the perp's problem is over bread, but my mother put many decades into making it for my father, brown mainly, and now she doesn't. I also noticed a new front yesterday, "jam stalking"; my parents have the identical EB Smith wildberry jam that I normally use in their fridge, and I cannot think of anywhere that needs any more kinds of jam than their place, as my mother makes it for chrissakes. And too, it was about 2/3 used, another amazing feat as it had not been there before. Also on the preserves confusion front; my mother made marmalade last week but had "somehow" inherited a new half full large sided bottle of commercial marmalade. And even after she had made marmalade she had at least a half dozen oranges left over and were plainly positioned on the kitchen counter. Making marmalade in Febuary, somehow that doesn't add up, but then again, I am no expert in preserves and related fruit acquisition. The one time I took them to Costco they only thing they bought was an oversized jar of marmalade, and "somehow" it disappeared afterwards as I never saw it in the fridge.

It is a yellow shirt day today, and if the perps are like they usually are, they will be going silly with gangstalking, especially employing that same color. That is my prediction before I venture outside, and for the event, they put on a lighted yellow directional arrow sign to "guide" the parking lot users into the parkade in the city block they are tearing up, no doubt in the service of their harassment objectives. Of course the lighted highway use directional arrow was totally superfluous and was facing this apartment, and as it debuted today, it just maybe all part of the perp's yellow color fixation. This is the first time in three months that I have worn this yellow shirt, so it must be a big gangstalk event, hence the earlier awakening to make for more wear time before I set off into the public terror-tory. I am nearly always noisestalked when I put on or change my clothes, and given the perps' fixation with all colors that I see or wear, this must be a big event coming up. Maybe I should change out of it to piss them off.

I called it correctly, there was additional gangstalking on me while wearing a yellow shirt. About eight of them were lined up behind me at one traffic crossing, when the norm would be two. I also got a near exact repeat of last week's set-up when exiting the elevator on the main floor. Instead of two dude rapping and me walking between them, it was three dudes, one being the same skinheaded negro of last week. Same circumstance of heading to Thursday yoga, near same gangstalking circumstance. One dude was in a bright red anorak, a color and garment of increasing perp use, and no doubt some kind of color testing was going on, especially with Goretex, a teflon coating, and seeming to be one of the problem chemical pollutants for the perps, a "problem" that began on their watch for chrissakes.

Other oddities at yoga, or there and back, were that the yoga mats were laid out in advance, a new event. I always avoid the deep burgundy colored ones, and lo, if that wasn't the only choice in three locations. And the seating arrangement was all messed up; all mats faced inward in a circle, unlike the usual layout where we face the instructor. At one point, when doing balances where the perps constantly screw me and cause wobbling over, there was an unabashed sequence of masers popping out of the floor and through this burgundy colored mat. It went on for 20 seconds or so, these little eruptions of a grey or silvery nature in a tight little cluster over some 6" diameter.

In another staged event at the end of the class, I was seated and talking to the instructor who was framed by the window behind her. There were wood venetian blinds in the window, horizontal alternating bands of lighting, which wasn't unlike what they do to the you YouTube videos, breaking them into horizontal banded lines, emulating a video transmission "glitch". And while talking to her, all of a sudden the left lens of my glasses was immediated rendered foggier by some exotic means, very much like what happens in the evening or overnight. No doubt the perps are making some light intensity determinations and "needed" to fuck with my glasses to pull this off.

Back to basic pounding noises from the hallway; no cover story for that, and adding on "vibrations" inside my apartment is a bonus for the perps. I am reading about the nefarious deeds of the CIA and their MKULTRA program in all its horrific detail. This seems to be of significant interest to the noisestalkers, as there are other things besides pounding they will administer. And of course, other tricks like forced farts, vision impairments, creaking noises from inside my skull, fruit fly bombardment, and a few others. The hallway coughing routine is another, the "perpetrator" never, ever changing their cough in over 10 months. There seems to be a prefered cough they like to plant on me; the sudden throat clearing and a trail-off resonance.

I did my gym class earlier today, the almighty Thursday gangstalking routine. The usual 500 to 1,000 mobile vehicles and at least half that again in parked vehicles. I had my ambulatory freakshow as always; Mr. Ne Bald and Mr. Ethnic Gut were "featured" in nearly every glance I took, or more like, was directed to take. The highlights are rather dull; the freakish negro woman in two tone red and dyed brown hair is a three time regular, and was on the treadmills when I was. There was a Mr. Back and Forth, viewable outside while I was on the treadmill, walking to the building, then turning around at the doors and walking out again, not having entered. Thinking that was the end of his act, I should not of been surprised to see that he had somehow arrived within 10' of me, now working on the free weights in the same red and white shirt getup. Red shirts featured predominantly again, especially those on loiter/sentry duty. At one time they had some 15 of them around me, and the dude who hung around the weights for five minutes adjusting his touque hat and his Nanopod wires was too much for me to stay on the free weights with this over-obvious loitering thug to be standing over me. It seems that the perps are entensively testing muscle growth, and like me to back off on all my exercise routines. This has been consistent from early on; keep me off any routines by staffing the operatives at the locations I prefer at the time I am likely to use the equipment. They only let me run 7.5 minutes on the treadmill, only 0.5 minutes more than last time before sacking me out. Once I could run 20 minutes straight on the treadmill, now they won't let me do that much, and have only recently relented on this form of exercise. I have not yet figured out why some class members arrive at the end of the class, such as one today who was at the downstairs cashier when I was on my way out. It must be for extended gangstalking reasons.

The street freakshow was not worse than two days ago for this same 30 min. walk in each direction. No extra added weirdness on account of my yellow shirt for the latter activity today, the gym. I had my ambulatory gangstalkers ahead of me, behind me and parallel to me at various locations enroute. Sometimes they put on a half dozen around me, a pseudo-swarm. There was one big paving job going on, and that was visible from my apartment window. Needless to say, MIBs in black fleece were ahead and behind me when I walked beside the paving job. I also noted that there was a new "need" to dig out some adjacent concrete sidewalk and dig into the underlying soil, though no conventional purpose seemed to make sense. Perhaps this was the reference digging, keeping a fresh dig after all the gravel and paving had been laid down. Again, I have no idea why the perps are so fussed about petroleum products, ashphalt, concrete and soil, but they always like me to be there when the digging happens. The re-paving from two days ago was finished, no more activity save the electricians pulling wires through conduit under the street. I cannot imagine the perps giving up on finding out what they are after, as their surveillance activities have gone on for my lifetime, 53 years, 5.5 years of which has been overt harassment. I get the notion that this harassment and experimentation is not going as nearly well as they expected, and that closing on 6 years of dedicated overt harassment wasn't expected. Not my problem, so why am I being involved in it?

One extended gangstalking stunt at gym today was putting a couple with red shirts on, talking outside at length, and having one on each side of an intervening window pillar. This went on for five minutes, a male and female in differing reds and head gear, each assigned a precise location from where I was sitting on the exercise bicycle, putting on the street debate act at length. And lo, if there wasn't a curvacious blonde woman working on exercise equipment just to the left of this line of sight, probably to supply some kind of auric goodness the perps are hoping to harvest and apply to the Unfavored, especially old ducks putting on the act, wearing red.

As in, they don't care, there are plenty of other subjects they harass, so why do they keep me enraged all the time for their fuckery? Why can't they screw their own kind, who must surely provide their most intimate details to their employer on a 24/7 basis? If one takes the notion that the current Iraq War has a connection to this harassment objectives, as well as the ancillary Guantanamo Bay prisoners, and all the downstream war related debauchery, then it seems that the perps did not time their research very well to my harassment/research outcomes. I do suspect there is a connection, and call me nutty on this one, but when the perps have done with me is when the grievous Iraq atrocities will be over, or as much as they can be given the resident internecine strife without the complications of an invading party.

On the functional decomposition front, that is detailing my every thought and move in some form of energetic means, the perps seem to be still floundering around and creating noise at every keyword that they plant for me to "think" or do. That includes typing, hence the ongoing typo sabotage. It also includes handwriting and every stroke of forming every letter in the alphabet. Surely to fuck they have surveilled enough school age children to figure this one out, but no, they are still pounding objects in the hallway as a means to neurally explore me and my associated brain energies at that moment. My survival mantra is "another year (of harassment)", and so far, I have been correct, even if the perps launch their biannual "harassment termination" games. That they have this city in their pocket, and being irradiated all the time suggests that any investment is going to continue for a long time yet. For that, I got the overhead pounding and a zapping, then me swearing at the assholes who then went on to make more noise. Fucking sick is what this is.

More overhead pounding of the floor above, my ceiling, not forgetting that we are talking about steel concrete construction here, and noise emulates a lead-footed tromping back and forth. And especially so when the sirens start up. The hallway pounding noises are still continuing, I cannot think of what would be the cover story for that.

Time to call this one done for the day and hope for less clunking when I get to bed.

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