Tuesday, April 01, 2008

Just the Usual Unusal

I am always stuck for a title to blog postings, and there must be an externalized reason, as in mind-control, as it is too consistent.

Monday nights are usually sleep deprived, and last night was no exception. There was at least 90 minutes of outside noise for me to plug my ears with my fingers at times, overhead pounding, one zapping and a few other assaults. The timing of the forced head flipping is getting more interesting; it is usually when they plant past recollections and/or when an outside noise is "happening".

Then about 0300h they put on a noise for me to wake to, the sound of "neighbors" water running, except it came in louder than my own. Then another awakening around 0600h to then have me stay awake until getup time of 0730h. As usual, there was a constant parade of noise during this latter wakeful period before I was allowed to get up. My voice has been constantly changing all morning when ranting over the imposed provocations; crumb inundation games, lint on my clothes from the dryer, "misperception" games, headed for the wrong cupboard games and the rest of the litany of mental processing assaults.

They also screwed me out of putting the burner on when the kettle was filled, something that I do every day, but today, the assholes decided to delay the consequent coffee making so that I would eat my toast with peanut butter and jam on it without the aid of coffee. In other words, the perps wanted only one brown colored food in my mouth at one time, that being the peanut butter. (A siren cascade has just erupted while typing this). Given that there are many more males wandering around in peanut butter (brown) colored workwear, I am not too surprised that the assholes want to isolate the remote detection of energetic of this one color and have the coffee follow later. And I was scripted to be out of chocolate, so the entire "brownscape" of my mouth and stomach contents were much simplifed. (More noise augmentation as I write this; as if a hammer is being taken to the concete floor overhead without benefit of carpet. Now, a wood jointer noise has started up.)

All of the above is a big deal for the perps, this so-called "browning around" and screwing me over having an orderly breakfast routine. I go to the gym in and hour, and I will be sure to be gangstalked by browners there. It is the big push of late if the number of the brown wearing weirds is anything to go by.

My laundry activity went smoothly until I was screwed out of folding the clothes properly; this has been done for over forty years, and still they keep hacking as to how I do my laundry. They even put on an oafish plastic bag man in the hallway when I was exiting the laundry room. It was the usual stare-at-me interaction, and I am sure the dim lighting was the big attraction as the perps have been reducing the color of facial photographs of late, having Caucasians appear as brown skinned as Asians, "due" to low light levels in the manipulated photo images they plant for my web surfing. This one happened to be a live specimen. Not a big deal, but normally they don't put on hallway gangstalkers for me, to continue the image that this place is unihabited save for me. It seems that way, though I cannot be 100% sure. The freakshow flux in the lobby suggests that as well, as well as the Cheersing, as if they all know each other.

And more red flashes in my central vision of late, even across this LCD display, covering a full horizontal width about a half inch high. More stupider all the time it would seem.

There seems to be a perp theme running about voting of late; the Zimbabwe elections, and now the ISO bending over for Microsoft, even if it was unwanted. I wonder what the perps have to gain if these voting irregularities are their doing, which it may well be. Another theme that is playing hard today is one noted in past blog postings, and that being about copper, the metal. All these foreclosed houses are being purportedly stripped of copper pipes. Anything to get this in the news so I will see at least a dozen headlines about it afterward. It is mighty curious that the perps are attemting to give me chemistry lessons, and yet the assholes gave me learning difficulties in understanding most technical subjects. They knew this in 1960 and 1962, as did my parents, and no one ever told me. Fucking outrageous, but that wasn't enough it seems, as they had been hounding me for 47 years before they went into overt harassment in 2002, closing in on the sixth year anniversary of April 15.

Another perpthem of late is the topic of Africa and Africans, aka negros and related gangstalking preponderance. Even my mother was on about Africa for whatever reason this weekend. I leave this one alone and won't wade into it any deeper, but it is mighty curious that the perps have started up this theme in the past week.

More overhead floor pounding; who needs to hammer a floor? Only the assholes who do this over every residence I have lived in since 2002, save one seven month reprieve where it was a top floor apartment. Even then, they would send "maintenance workers" on the roof to pound the ceiling directly overhead of where I was on occasion.

I just came off ranting from all the provocations while attempting to make and eat dinner and then do the dishes afterward. It seems the perps have begun a new round of disrupting everything I do to get me to complain and rant about these abusive incursions. The usual piss offs; flicking food and crumbs around, preventing me from picking the crumbs up, flicking olive oil around, disrupting my routines, causing my fingers to fumble and not be able to do what I intend, and the final piss off is to then disrupt my choice of words while complaining about their fuckery. Insult after injury; obviously speech has to get fucked with like even turning a page in a book or picking something up. It is fucking criminal abuse, and nothing less.

Tuesday is a gym only day, and I had my usual posse of gangstalking personnel and vehicles, the latter in the 500 to 1,000 quantity arranged in formations and color coordinated. Even the mildest of direction change in the street causes new iterations of waves of gangstalking vehicles, plus the ambulatory ones. In the latter category they are putting more of them around me when walking, sometimes five or so in mid block. Their cover stories rarely add up, especially those on plastic bag packing duty.

It was a four freak representation in gym class; Ethnic Gut and New Bald were highly featured and Alkie and Fatfuck were in the background. We had at least three more who I consider to be non-freaks, and the non-class gym members weren't freak populated for the most part. Ethnic Gut and New Bald were "popping up" everywhere I looked, and if I kept my head down knowing they were loitering in my normal view, they kept staying in place for longer, just hanging around until I finally looked to see if they were gone, but no, they were still shiftlessly hanging about.

When I departed I "happened" to meet one of my Thursday yoga class members at the first intersection corner, which also "happens" to be the same intersection I met another yoga class member a few months back. It seems that the yoga class members are being used as some kind of calibration when I have just departed the apartment building. More improbable coincidences, more often, and in sufficient quantity that a week's events in the course of a year would be normal for non-harassees.

I had my posse of five ambulatory gangstalkers at the door when I came back, one of those together-not-together clusters again, where a subset of three filed toward the apartment front doors ahead of me, seeming together, or at least walking the same speed together. Then when I caught up to them at the front door, one had let himself in (with his bicycle), another was looking at the intercom board to ostensibly phone someone, and the third, an Asian woman in a light brown coat was waffling between them, eventually immediately preceding me as I held the door for her while she left her seeming "pal" at the intercom board. All too often there will be incongruous groupings of gangstalkers that makes no sense, and they want me to see this dumbshit play for whatever reason.

Then, the lead of the disparate threesome snagged an elevator, and with the bicycle bullshit again, I decided to take the stairway up six flights up to my floor. There was also a businessman type dude sitting on the couch in the lobby, looking glazed over, and he had a pink shirt on. I don't know what it is about pink shirts on males, but they totally suck. And as my "reactions" are totally controlled, I was made to find this color combination with his black jacket and pants totally repugnant. Like I say, it was not my reaction, as this has never happened before, no matter there is a genuine subconscious reaction which I am unaware of. The perps now make me "aware", or seemingly aware, of much more than I ever knew about myself, another curse the assholes have laid on me for their own mendacious neural research objectives.

The perps have also been flashing me with red or pink colored plasma; in public, in the floor exercise room, at my desk, and anytime they think they need to add some red color. It is getting to be predictable; if there is a planted red dressed person, or red colored item some distance from me, they will often add a transitory red plasma flash in close, or else make it look like it was an extraneous reflection off the coated optics of my glasses. Lucky me, getting tagged all the more with their magnetic phenomenon.

Anyhow, I took the stairs up to my place, and lo, if the spilled coffee from three days ago was still there, for some kind of brown color calibration games. Regular readers will know that the perps are obsessed by this color and take every opportunity to expose me to small amounts of it, and spilling coffee is one such method. I have given up on counting the members of the daily Coffee Corps, those ambulatory gangstalkers walking around with a cup of coffee held in front of them, even if they are coming from residential areas toward the commercial areas, the total opposite of a credible cover story.

The street works projects on my walking route to the gym and back are in various states of completion; two are complete, one had poured a reddish concrete like sidewalk ramp when I came back, and another is in a state of hiatus, and one that I hadn't included before has started up again, adding an orange excavator to work "with" the yellow one that has been there for the past week or so. The area is small enough that one excavator is all that is needed, but for whatever reason, a new one was added, and I am sure the orange color was more important. The perps have been on an orange color kick for the past while, and yesterday's city bus freakshow was a reminder of that.

I learned tonight the perps are also after my technical knowledge, should I "happen" to acquire any. I was reading a more comprehendable explanation as to what Pulse Code Modulation is, and the overhead pounding and noises from other sources all sounded, seeming to noisestalk me should I actually retain some knowledge. Talk about invasive and scrutiny.

Here is a tale of a person having the worst luck in attempting to get a break into show business. Could it be the sickos have decided she isn't the one that they want? I don't know of course, but I will say that there are reasons for being "unlucky" or "cursed" that don't have anything to do with natural events. That is, some people are selected to be harassed and fucked with and don't know it, like me for my first 47 years. I am worse off in that the fuckers have given me learning disabilities owing to development age irradiation, but it would seem that the perps could also decide to initiate monitoring individuals as adults if they have a reason to prevent them entering a certain business for which the perps alone would know the reasons. That is, to say, I am not much of a believer in happenchance being as prevalent as I once thought.

Anyhow; time to call this one done and ponder what the nightime jerkarounds are going to be.

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