A busy Monday morning with my mother going downtown to acquire a brown folding chair in a brown cardboard box, white coated on the outside. It was the biggest exposition of red and yellow colored vehicles, clothes, street banners, shopping bags and other street features. Regular readers will know about the perp's fascination over the color brown, as well as their campaign to present this and other colors in all manner of objects, distances, lighting, provenance, spatial juxtaposition, orientation, direction of travel, beings (skin color) and all possible combinations and permutations in an ongoing orchestrated "environment" in constant attendance to time all actions and motions to subsecond levels. This was another such outing, and they go particularly nutty when I am out with any member of my family, aka the First Feral Family.
There has been no question the perps have been cranking up the exposures to reds, red variants, pinks, fuschias, and then adding yellow colors afterward. It used to be that if I parked beside a red vehicle, it would "disapear" in short order, within minutes if I wasn't looking (the prerequisite). Today though, while driving my mother's Ford Escape into downtown, they had a deep red metallic colored vehicle in front and behind me all the way in, and even tailed me to the parkade, covering me for some 15 minutes of driving on the same route. And when climbing up the floors of parked vehicles in the parkade, there was no end of red vehicles in varying degrees of illumination; from the outside (daylight) to the center (flourescent lighting) and mixtures of both.
And it "so happened" that floor #4 was painted red-orange to distinguish it, and lo, if the speed bump (don't ask) in the elevator area hadn't been painted yellow in the past few days. Then out on the street, there was the usual freakshow from the Unfavored, with the odd blonde of the Favored to provide some kind of karmic referencing, or at least, that is my interpretation as to why they are doing what they are. And lo, if at the first intersection, there wasn't a white and red ambulance parked on the sidewalk with its lights flashing, "attending" to some emergency. But that wasn't enough color games for the perps, because here comes the fire truck, yellow in the City of Victoria, with sirens blaring, coming down the center of the street, with most vehicles pulling off to give it passage like they are supposed to do. The fire truck made a 90 degree turn down the wrong way of a one way street in front of us, but they are allowed to do that. They then park in midstreet, and make out that there is some kind of emergency call. By then, my mother and I had crossed the road on the walk signal immediately following the fire truck, and my mother makes out like a kid, saying she wants to see what is going on. I didn't of course, as I have been through this stunt so many times.
Meanwhile, the three vagrants in teal green (all three), and one a native Indian (brown skin, a perp obsession), are also stopped some 30' ahead and doing the waving and pointing act that I see all the time.
Then onto the Bay, a downtown department store that anchors a downtown mall, to look at cotton sweaters, as my mother "needed" to get my father one. And so, it "so happens" that some were a light brown color, and others were a light blue, or navy blue, but the needed size was unavailible. I assume this was some kind of color calibration test, as we had been to that same location three weeks ago. Then up a floor to check out some garden furniture that my mother had supposedly seen a few days earlier, though it is curious, as she usually doesn't venture downtown without driving help, me usually. And lo, if it wasn't in a light brown fabric with a deep brown anodized metal frame. And lo, if there wasn't only one left, so no choice in picking an item. It weighed some 30lb, so it was my job to pack it with the aid of the top white plastic handle.
Then the protracted delay at the checkout; a customer ahead of us, for a few minutes, no problem. Then I had to bring the box around behind the counter to the checkout so "she could scan it", meaning, that there was some need to have it directly out of my view for a short time. Then a big deal over using "Bay customer points", to save another $30, and while this was going on, a cluster of mothers, young children and grannies were accumulating behind us, and one weird dude who was totally out of place on a weekday.
I packed this box through the shopping mall, up stairs, and was still walking faster than my mother, but I reckon that was the plan as the perps covet situations where they can send gangstalkers between us. When out on the street, I had my usual posse around me, popping out of stores, loading bays or otherwise loitering, and again when recrossing the intersection where the firetruck and ambulance had been. Both were emergency vehicles were gone, (some emergency), but the fire department's yellow pickup was parked in the street stalls.
Once across the street, there were about six dudes that coalesced in a gangstalk pack ahead of me, peeling off to building entrances enroute. And then with a train of at least three oncoming gangstalkers I had this fucking motorized wheelchair on my tail, and when it passed me it was this native Indian being without arms or legs. There was another wheelchair only half a block before. Anyhow, there were plenty of other players, but I could not understand why there were so many males wandering around, crossing the street and making busy, often with brown colored leather briefcases. Why, there was even the executive with a gimpy leg (waddling) act for me to see, looking suspiciously like former colleague from my forestry background.
Then, when driving back to my place, the perps had arranged a skinhead male on three of the four street corners, making it difficult to evade (avoid looking) while driving. Then, when at my apartment, I had the usual furtive middle aged male, dressed in a light sage green coat identical to the recently acquired microfiber cloth I now use to clean my glasses of the "nightime debris" that arrives on them, and a longhair brown dressed male freak was exiting the building. And lo, if the manager and his white bearded "assistant" weren't loitering and talking in the lobby with a 6' mirror door that was packed in brown cardboard. Can we say "enough brown" today? About 30 minutes later, the manager "happened" to be in the hallway on his cellphone, providing another voice tracking/gangstalking event. He has even "arrived" outside the laundry room on his cellphone when I am doing laundry, another perps obsession that regular readers will know about.
Instead of the perp operatives doing the brown cardboard packing on the street when I am proximate, it was me packing it for them, with multi-toned brown contents. I have moved so many times with the aid of brown cardboard boxes, so it makes me wonder what it is about that color that fascinates the perps so much, and why they are continuing this surrepticious stalking with varying colors, substances, clothing and vehicle colors?
Yesterday, when heading for the bus, they put on two independent males packing "takeout" food in brown paper bags, holding them in an identical manner, held oddly in front of them as if they couldn't get far enough away. In fact one of these, "somehow" showed up outside my apartment, and then again at the bus stop, heading the opposite direction. The Paper Bag Corps perhaps, an extension of the Coffee Corps, those dedicated gangstalkers carrying coffee in front of them in various mugs and paper cups of various sources.
And here is a convenient listing from my online status of my income tax returns; assessed (meaning first submission, and until 2006, with the aid of an accountant), and then reassessed (meaning, here is a bullshit gambit to have you sweat over your income tax return, or otherwise protract this event of proscessing it, per perp orders). Again, I have never had reassessments before, always paid my full share of taxes or done anything underhanded that would lead them to suspect me of anything illegal. None of it. BUT, ever since becoming a TI, this bullshit goes down. For TY2007 (last year), they unilaterally doubled my income, adding it in one box and not subtracting the identical amount from another box. (Somehow, the tax form software transposed the income entry). I have "won" every reassessment, meaning that my original return was supported with the requested information. And from 2003 to 2005, they kept hounding me for the same documentation, which they had on hand, making the 2004 and 2005 reassessments totaly superfluous.
So.. at the moment, they think I owe $2,500, but when they get round to processing the re-assessment per my original tax return, they will owe me about $80. All this to keep this exercise in play for longer; what they do all the time, the above mentioned brown box with chair purchase/checkout games being another example.
Date processed
Status of return
2007
Reassessment in progress -
Assessed April 10, 2008
2006
Reassessed April 16, 2007
Assessed March 26, 2007
2005
Reassessed August 4, 2006
Assessed April 24, 2006
2004
Reassessed January 30, 2006
Assessed June 28, 2005
2003
Reassessed April 25, 2005
Assessed September 30, 2004
1710h
I have just finished my new smaller one slice portions of tortilla for dinner. This has erupted with extra noise and activity while it is digesting as I write this. One "unconsidered" (read, no analytical thought allowed) outcome of the one slice portions is that a fridge stored slice could be eaten at lunch and dinner on the same day, with another for the next lunch until I cook again. This never happened before; with two slices of a total of four, lunch or dinner was either just cooked or leftover, happening both in the same day. The new smaller portion means that leftovers will carry for three successive meals before I cook again. And as I discovered, the dinner plate in the dish rack that is vertically stored can be directly used from the rack to the table, not having been stored horizontally in the stack in the cupboard. Given the amount of inanity that goes with the orientation of how I store things, it is another big deal for the perps. And they duly brought on severe glass bottle bashing noise in the hallway, had the seagulls mewing and flying outside my balcony, brought on a rain shower, extra vehicular traffic and noise, parked a commercial truck on the sidewalk, and had the manager natter on his cellphone in the hallway again, repeating his morning's visit after I returned from the above mentioned cardboard box stalking games. I said I wouldn't go into the tortilla dinner details again, but I just did. Hopefully this is the last posting on this topic, but often the extra perp activity reminds me of the significance of these changes to routine that the assholes invest so much effort into. (That is, I am recall deleted, as I once had a huge knowledge base on the significance of everything, but now that is controlled by the perps, hence being so "clueless" as to what is about to go down).
1905h
Picture time; each time I save a new cropped version of a picture in Picasa, I get noisestalked. Everything I do is of interest to the perps.
Here is a picture taken 04-16-2008, 1138h from outside my balcony. The white truck with the ladders, what I call "Ladder Patrol" as there are so many coursing or parking by me, is parked, and the two red colored vehicles are in motion (I think, as the traffic light would be green in their direction), though if stopped at the traffic light, that is "what happens" all the time of late; stopping over, or past, the white stop line and stopping one vehicle length behind another. On the street on the left, running to the top of the frame are dispersed; two deep metallic red vehicles, two silver grey vehicles, and two white vehicles. Hard to beat that for symmetry as well as using the vehicles in differing orientations and lighting conditions. At the bottom of the picture is this single building with two roof variants (an experiment perhaps?); bare EPDM, and then with gravel on it, each covering a differing business. And on the top most edge of the roof, partially obscured by the tree, is a "Greens Vehicle", ones carrying landscaping clippings and a plastic bin, both objects/subjects of extreme perp obsession and frequent placement in my proximity.
Taken 04-16-2008, 1138h; I count seven vehicles in this picture, with two of them behind the trees on the left. There is an additional red street banner on the extreme left, adding red fabric into the red vehicle mix. As best as I can tell, there are three black colored vehicles, and three silver grey vehicles, plus an additional two.
Here is a zoom in of the photo above, and one can see that the perps have arranged three same red colored vehicles abreast, two parked and one driving between them. An additional red corvette, and the very familair freakish skinhead that gangstalk in great abundance. The amount of red in this photo almost makes me sick looking at it, which might explain the ongoing overhead pounding (of 12" of concrete and steel) while I was cropping and saving it, twice, because "somehow" the original got overwritten and had to be re-imported.
Off the red track, here is what happens at my perp abetting parent's place in the service of experimentation with plastics, shaving devices and the razor blades. Like the gangstalkers who course around the open windows for no seeming reason, the shaving gear is getting its "light treatment" of sunlight through double paned glass. Regular readers will know that the perps have an obsession over plastics of many kinds, and also when shaving. This represents my father using the same shaving gear as I use, the most radical change he has made in shaving, probably ever. I wonder why.
Taken 04-22-2008, 1657h; two red vehicles with a white Ladder Patrol in front and a black rearmost vehicle on the right side parked file, and a red and silver grey vehicle on the opposite side. An operative appears to be crossing the street, though I am sure it was no fluke that he was standing on the yellow centerline, with his coffee mug no less (aka Coffee Corps), as I took the photo in a moment of exemplary timing. It would seem that taking photos serves the perps' ends as much as mine, and I suspect that the operative has some kind of energetic interaction with the yellow centerline that is getting registered by the camera sensor, at my eye of course. The black colored pickup truck rounding the corner with the way funky fuschia painted wood racks has to be a one of a kind; what guy would be seen dead with this color of accessory on his truck?
That is all the pictures for today, I am going to stretch them out for a few days' possibly because looking at all those red vehicles makes me ill, or more like, the perps make sure I have an adverse reaction to suit their neural explorations into why, and how I am so adversive to these colors. Not my problem, so why am I getting hounded all over town for it?
2225h
I listened to some interviews with Richard Hoagland and the John Lear. I suppose this counts as middle aged grey hair male observation time, not meaning to be disrespectful, but serving the perp objectives of getting more of the Unfavored demographic features given a sustained viewing. And plenty of plasma action over the LCD display and beside it; dark to light gradation games, yellow and green lighting Hoagland's face for some 10 minutes, and just the usual "augmentations".
2255h
I am listening to Jill Barber while editing and finishing this up. Thank goodness for full song samples, though I am sure that won't last long if she becomes as popular as I think she she will become. Time to blog off and call this one done and ponder the upcoming Monday nightime sleeplessness games.
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