Friday, March 21, 2008

Orange Spots for Good Friday

It is Good Friday, a statutory holiday for everyone save the perps and their victims. Today's big game is to play with orange spots and colors, starting with the orange olive oil that mysteriously drips in 1/4" spots from the tapenade inside the tortillas I ate at lunch. Then follows on with similarly shaped icons in my Bookmarks list once I boot the PC up, why there they were, and hadn't been there before. It gets more specific than that, even; the olive oil drippings varied in configuration, even if in a tight 2" cluster. There was round dots with clearly delineated edges, fuzzy edged drops that "happened" to fall onto light green olive oil on the plate, coalescing dots, deeper colored orange dots, and lighter colored ones. And after doing the dishes I cleaned the table, and lo, if there wasn't an additional deep orange colored olive oil dot where the plate had been. Amazing, I couldn't spill anything underneath a dinner plate, but some gutless shirk with remote application methods had put an orange olive oil dot there anyhow, all to test the plate-table interaction (I assume) with respect to this color and substance. All because the asshole doesn't have the gumption to show up and person and tell me about the nonconsensual human experimentation I have been overtly subjected to for the past six years. And because they decided to undertake this latter phase of harassment from a remote location, as if surveilling me for the previous 47 years when they struck in 2002 wasn't enough. On top of that, they have appeared to fuck up early in the game, and as a consequence, have spent all that time chasing me around with color games among other orchestrations.

There is no good day in these circumstances, no matter what the title of the holiday is, and they make sure I know that. I get to tell my story on film in four days, and I need to develop as script before then, having thinking this was going to blow over as nothing was mentioned for the prior three weeks.

This is post tea and chocolate, and accordingly, the near serial train of loud mufflered vehicles go by, in noise form at least. There really isn't anywhere within a few miles that affords a wide open road to go as fast as possible and make even more noise while it trails off into the distance. All part of the managed fiction around me, and the noises are applied to get as much duration as possible, "tickling" the same neural energetics for longer so the remotely applied research has more time for detection. Something like that, and the same thing also "happens" at my parent's place in the suburbs where there is no thoroughfare cover story for even greater distances.

Before tea and chocolate I was working on my film presentation script; these sudden bursts of motivation by equally sudden demotivation cannot be self-derived with a deadline for three days from now and I haven't yet put in the piece about me. I wanted to point out the before tea and chocolate activity time was relatively quiet, and then once I got up, the infernal loud mufflered noises started up, and have continued while this food is digesting. If there is any big study time by the perps it is immediately following a meal time. They don't yet understand all the energetics of food digestion yet, especially when it comes to colors, especially light brown. At the last carpet auction, three weeks ago, the perps placed two puke brown carpets near me where I was waiting as the helper. They cannot get enough of that color around me it seems, and cannot yet detect it from afar at least, so they place some similar reference colors around me.

I have been working on my script for my Mar. 24 film presentation and it is very difficult with someone forcing typos and dithering my judgement as to inclusion of past writings. I have all the material I need in the blogs, but the ability to reduce it to 10 pages is getting mind-controlled obstruction. Nothing new therel the perps have always fucked me in being able to write, and only in the past 10 years was I reasonably capable of what you see here. Like always, the perps like everyone in their control to undertake tasks repetively, once for them, and then once for me.

Time to call this done a prevent any more forced typo intrusions.

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