Sunday, March 23, 2008

Lugging Carpets

I am spending a rare Sunday night at my place, largely because I am physically drained after lugging carpets at a carpet auction. I help out at these travelling salesmen like events, lugging them from their van into a room where they are auctioned. Or at least some of them get sold, as it seems that they are giving them away; they are looking for $20k and are lucky if they get $5k. One carpet was said to have taken seven weavers 20 years to make and was no wider than 12'. I don't think that one sold.

I lug them to get them displayed on stacked tables, and then lug the ones of interest to the front ready for auction. I hold them up in front of the very bright halogen lights, usually with someone else, and this time it was only one other person. We were exhausted to say the least, as normally there are four helpers and this time only two of us.

All this is a stellar opportunity for the perps to have these various colors and patterns arranged around me, one of their favorites being puke brown. At least three carpets have this color as a theme, and oddly, none of them sold. I suppose they are keeping them for the next time, now that I am "experienced" in this activity. So, plenty of deep reds, pomegranate dye I am told. All carpets are natural fabrics, wool, silk and cotton, and aren't treated with the polluting Polybrominated diphenyl ethers (PBDEs), chemicals used as fire retardants. The perps tell me that this is a problem for them as it interferes with remote reading my bio-energetic fields, changing the quantum properties. Not that I care any, why don't they leave me alone, or cut a deal to figure it out in a tenth of the time? Who knows, apart from speculating that the payoff over doing bio-energetic research must be so incredibly large, that they don't mind putting me through six years of fucking hell, because they don't give a shit anyhow. Not my problem, so why am I being involved in this without giving consent?

The other helper was Austrian with a strong accent, and this was a golden opportunity for the perps to add one of their very favorite games; have someone speak to me and then having me not understand them. And if they don't have a shill who speaks terrible English, why, they dither my hearing and cognition and have me get only half the story. He gave me a ride back into town which was nice, and the bus service is none too frequent to Sidney on Sundays.

I had my usual posse of gangstalkers around me on the bus when heading out; I could not believe how many of them were out on a sleepy Easter Sunday. And they brought on an instrument case to park near me. The roughened surface of the instrument case seems to favor more perp progress, going by other games they play. At teh carpet auction building I also had gangstalkers "happen" to cruise by at 1130h, and then "happen" to be out again at 1230h when taking a break before the auction starts. And the perps made sure a red shirted fuck was hard on my tail when exiting the building; the perps are zoning me out more so I don't notice when the fuckers jump on my tail.

I also notice more perp arranged disconnects; two gangstalking parties readied themselves for the bus when neither had seen what the bus route was. They "somehow" just knew to get ready, code for getting in front of me and limit the seating options. Then at the end of the day when stopping at a store to buy some water, the cashier knew I was ready to purchase before I had provided any clue about my intentions. These little small "tells" are planned IMHO, as the perps like to differentiate knowledge from intention, and add these latentcies for me to see. The reality is that they could zone me out and I would not notice these minor disconnects. Another from four weeks ago was my mother exclaiming in the back seat of the vehicle as my foot was pulled off the clutch pedal prematurely, by way of forced "slippage". Again, her timing was off, as the vehicle had not yet jerked forward, and she was getting fussed about it.

I was screwed over in posting this last night, and have been busy all day until now on a script for the film take, a show of selected residents of the Chelsea Apartments, mine being the strangest of all no doubt. I will post that episode separately later today.

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