Monday, May 12, 2008

Digging for Plastic

I am back in the hot seat after a First Feral Family dinner last night, and a stayover at my parent's place, and then digging in their garden to perform directed maintenance. As I have been doing backyard work for some months, today wasn't too different. The neighbors, or faux neighbors, start up their chainsaws, lawn mowers, usually in a prescribed sequential order, and I get my noise barrage in that form, rather than the downtown vehicular traffic roar that I get here at my apartment. Lucky me; there is a noise campaign everywhere I go.

The perps like me to do digging, soil excavation, planting trees and related horticultural work. I am a professional forester when I am allowed to work, and I suppose that is no coincidence either. I had the usual extra-conventional gravitic manipulations and harasssment applied to me while doing the work; extra runny nose, a whack in the back as if I wasn't crouching low enough (I was, this is an old "trick"), a whack in the face "from" a whippy shrub, and a few other imposed adversities. It is odd that I never "remember" to ask my mother for extra pay while being fucked over like this, but if I get paid out like all the other shills and quislings, it should be a decent payday.

I notice that the perps have arranged for my parents to install an irrigation system in their frontyard. A 60' trench has been dug, and the sods stacked beside the trench. I reckon this is a method to expose the subsoil to me while staying there, as it seems that mere gardening activity, including digging, isn't enough. And of course I was only allowed to figure out this now, and not when my mother was going on about the "slack" workers not showing up to finish the job

There has been a surfeit of irrigation installations on my walking beat; at least two public boulevards have been redone with irrigation (~300'), and of course, the work going on with the pipes and heads while walking past. I reckon there is a plastic (PVC) water energetic interaction that the perps are attempting to determine, and are using me as some kind of guinea pig. Regular readers will know that I installed 600' of 2" PVC water line at the farm I once owned with the ex, a financial disaster. From my perspective, it is another of the "been there, done that" category, and they don't have any fucking business to hound me over their problems that might relate to what they don't understand about PVC.

I once had two successive neighbors that burned PVC pipe in their garden refuse, and I always wondered how unlucky I was to have this occur, as dangerous dioxins get released. Now I know; a once covert agency knows that I have certain pollutants in me, and this creates a problem for them and their remote assay fuckery. They tell me, and I have not substantiated this, that the pollutants have certain quantum energy properties that cannot be predicted. So what, it isn't my problem, so why am I involved in it?

The typo sabotage is getting severe, as well as severe rage reactions are being imposed, so it is time to give this one a rest until the assholes settle down. Pre-mealtime is primetime harassment and abuse time.

The perps got me cranked up, and then dithered as to what I have in the fridge to eat. I had two options, and they wouldn't let me remember or know that this was the case, that there was leftovers from yesterday. That is how tight I am managed; I am not allowed to know in advance what my dinner will be, and nor am I allowed to recall what I have in the fridge. Fucking sick, and sad that some billion dollar budget operation had the wherewithal and the "need" to do this.

Yesterday's First Feral Family outing was scripted to have a visit to LD, the local superdrug store, comparable to Rite Aid. My mother needed some antihistamines, and so I drove the half block to park at the location that is viewable from this very office chair. How convenient it was availible. So with my father, mother and me making an ambulatory visit to the drug store I frequent, it was a golden gangstalk opportunity. There wasn't any Arab sheiks dressed up in robes this time, but it was fully stocked with the aisleway loitering nitwits attempting to look out of place, and my mother seemed to know where to go in the store, as I didn't, not having purchased antihistamines before. Then after a protracted "decision" as to which brand/price etc. she then "needed" to protract the exercise some more by consulting with the pharmacist. Anyhow, there was native Indian woman in a carmine red top ahead of her, and then vagrant type who got into a long voluble harangue all the time she was speaking with the pharmacist. There was at least one other vile red shirted individual coursing around, and he sauntered off ahead of the native Indian woman. The perps had me "interested" in the nearby omega 3,6,9 supplements, and to no surprise given the perps interests in this, there was a huge display, separated by an aisle so to expose me to both sides.

Once we left the store we went past the three white colored vehicles parked together, and then the three red colored vehicles, and no one said anything. Then the vile blonde helmet headed granny who stalks me mostly at my apartment "happened" to be coming by, and it was as if I hadn't gone anywhere. My in-apartment stalker had come to the LD store to gangstalk the three of us together. Later, when on the last suburban leg of the trip, my brother's new neighbor put on the lead-ahead vehicular gangstalk in a light metallic brown SUV to "welcome" us to the neighborhood, and made sure to have their kid on display some 10' from his driveway when I drove in.

At the First Feral Family dinner last night at my brother's place there was the usual fuckery and transparent activities; his sort-of native Indian (for brown skin "need" of the perps) came when we were all sitting at the table. Her arrivals have been highly varied; long in advance, after we arrive, making neighborhood "trips" while I was walking there from the bus trip, and other variants of timing with respect to our, or my, arrival. Her wine was poured at least 30 minutes before she arrived, and yet my brother was still suggesting that she "might" arrive.

And to heighten the fuckery, my brother passed three dishes right over top of my plate, then loaded with dinner, and didn't "somehow" have the fucking manners to ask me to pass the dish to his late arriving gangstalker pal. I thought it was outrageous the first time, but the perps would not let me reconcile this stunt with my knowledge of dinnertime manners, so I was made to fume over it, and not scream in his face which I would have done. (And have done in the past, and he somehow smirks, as the entire event was staged, and my "reactions" are all mind controlled to the script which he has likely rehearsed in advance).

Other games came later, with my father on his supposed Alzheimer's "agitation", standing up for no reason, spinning around in his chair to look at absolutely nothing. Sometimes I ask his what he is looking at at and he gives me this bullshit "huh". Other times he knows exactly what is going on, so I am not convinced the "condition" is for real, or is arranged as his cover story. I mentioned to my brother yesterday that I am not so sure it isn't an act and he didn't say anything. I guess he didn't have the chops to lie, so he said nothing, per perp script. I once asked my brother about an event when he "happened" to be out hiking when I was, though looking a little different so I wasn't sure. When he responded the perps made sure that I was not allowed to look him in the face when he was answering my question. Once I realized I was screwed out of exacting the circumspection I normally apply to quislings and like detritus, I knew he was culpable.

Other strange Feral Family goings-on yesterday was my in-town brother kicking the vehicle tires before we departed, with me as the only vehicle occupant at that moment. His "ersatz" safety check is the cover story, and then he got onto a new stunt. He rubbed the back window and the passenger side mirror in an apparent "attempt" to clean them when there was no cleaned needed whatsover. This seemed to be a method to apply his bioenergetic signature to the glass surfaces when he wasn't there. Every departure from his house is a stupid event; last time he got out the hose in an attempt to spray the vehicle for some imagined "problem", and I backed out before he could. Having seen this bullshit of partial vehicle spraying before, e.g. street boulevard sprinklers, it is time the perps gave this one a rest. I am not allowed to access my knowledge of the entire studpidity and the transparent perp fuckery that it embraces, and nor his extra uncharacteristic cheeriness.

I have the buzzy feet currently; they have been imparted this sensation of high vibration, and it continues even when I go to bed. It must me a way of correlating my bioenergetics between locations in my apartment as well as the prone position, in bed. The overhead clunking is noisestalking me on my typo corrections or anytime the perps make me annoyed over the typo sabotage that is going on, and hopefully repaired. The train whistle nonsense noise has started up; my mother told me that this was a common noise when we lived in Montreal in 1956-7, though I have no recall of this. No doubt the noise was perps managed, though in they do have a better cover story there than here. (One day train, and we are a half mile from the station, with at least 10 blocks of buildings in the way).

I am getting extensive forehead numbing applied to me, and it is highly agitating. This is where one's forehead is numbed, and it feels like it doesn't belong, and is instantly alleviated by rubbing my head, and changing the bioenergetic signature. This relief lasts a few minutes at best before it is applied again. I sense the real objective is the head rubbing exercise, given the high percentage of perp operatives rubbing their heads in public for no seeming reason, and even following the same protocol.

More rage-ification over typo sabotage repairs. And more noisestalking while this occurs. Regular readers will know that the stayover at my parents on Sunday nights, and the Monday departure, are prime harassment days, even to the point of extending it my keeping me awake for an extra four hours, or only allowing a REM sleep only. It is one day they go fucking beserk, and yet keep me inside once I return.

When I drove up in the vehicle after lunch, the perps had an adult dwarf "hanging around" the entrance to this apartment building. My mother was even scripted to give the topic more airtime by mentioning it, which I had already noticed. The person was dressed in black pants and a a white shirt, and I have no idea why this particular freak was assigned for sentry duty at that particular juncture. This kind of freak is rare, but the perps made sure that I noticed. Regular readers will know that I am constantly exposed to a freakshow, but as this was a instance of only 20 seconds of being outside on foot, they felt compelled to freakify that short interval. And lo, if they even put on a "doorman", someone suddenly exiting as I was approaching the front door; he less freakish, but still one of the Unfavored, a redhaired dude seeming in a hurry, maximizing his bioenergetic interaction, much like swiping a magnet; the faster it is swiped past a coil, the more electromagnetism it creates. And lo, if I didn't "happen" to forget all about this until I was reading about dwarf stars, and bingo, yet another "theme for the day" wasn't invoked.

The same theme fuckery has been "happening" over haircuts; I am going to get one tomorrow, and there has been at least three conversations that have been arranged where this topic has "somehow" been introduced.

More overhead rumbling that folllowed my every mouseclick; the perps have removed my link annotation that denotes past use, the purple color, and replaced it with blue again, all to have me re-visit past links. They combine this with recall deletion to effectively replicate linking and reading a web page anew. This is impossible in the unharassed world; once something is seen or read, it is old; seen previously. Well now, they can delete any of my recall, and do so routinely along with the converting the link color back to blue, and then walking me through I web page as if I hadn't seen it before, which is not true. Somewhere about halfway through do they all me to know what I know, and "recognize" the web page as one that was seen before. Only in this sick predicament is one's thoughts and knowledge kept from them.

Some interesting web troving on modified stereos caught my attention for a time, and that was duly noisestalked by the overhead pounding, albeit the soft thudding kind. The perps are very interested in anything that I find interesting as it seems they cannot yet fuck with this kind of mental process. Give then a few more weeks at best, and I won't know the difference.

A brutal day for typo sabotage and all round enragement games. Thank goodness I don't do anything complex, as it would be impossible to do with these assholes on my back. With stuttered navy blue plasma beams sitting over top of my hands, it is time to blog off, refrain from editing anymore and hope the above is coherent.

No comments: