Tuesday, May 20, 2008

An Early Tuesday

I was awakened this morning by excessive bird chirping, sparrow sized birds, and after a half hour, the seagull noises in all their near infinite variety were blended in, as if the birds were in competition, which they surely aren't, especially six stories up. This was my 50 minute pre-get-up noise assault along with excessive amounts of vehicle noise, and I was finally jerked out of bed at 0545h, an exceeding early time given the 10 and 11 hour sleeps the perps have been giving me. But as it was a Monday night, which takes me into Tuesday, it is the one night of the week that is routinely trashed for getting sufficient rest. Not that I suffer for it the next day, as the current harassment regimen somehow compensates me for lost sleep.

It is an laundry day and all the hassle that entails given the perps' obsessive interest in this subject, and they even put on a rare hallway stalker for the occasion, a chinless hangdog male, yet another "new" tenant (har, har) on this floor. Regular readers will know that the perps routinely draw gangstalkers from the Favored and the Unfavored demographic groups, and the emphasis is decidedly on the latter. The chinless act is decidedly of the Unfavored, and I have no direct knowledge as to why they have selected this group to draw from among others. This is a very consistent demographic grooup among the gangstalkers, and "my" theory, (read, planted notion), is that these specimens from the Unfavored demographic groups represent specific subconscious traumatization associations for which the conscious recall has been deleted. (Recall deletion has been applied to me in the past, pre-overt harassment, and more often in the past five years where they have developed more specific methods). And why the perps need to keep prompting me for subconscious recall is unknown to me; why not leave me alone for crissakes, as I am (or was) content without any belligerent remediation attempts, and no one asked me to be involved in this fucking nightmare, or more like, life-rape.

I had a two hour phone call with a Duplessis Orphan survivor, one who has very specific recall to the atrocities he suffered in the so-called orphanages that were really ersatz abuse and nonconsensual human experimentation centers applied to children. He was a rare escapee, getting out at age 14 and with the aid of the parents of a friend, he was given his day in court as a minor, and was awarded a court order to have him transfered to a reform school, also the scene of abuse. But at least he wasn't going to become a terminal experimentation subject. He explained to me that there was a specific ward where once placed, one doesn't ever come back in a form they once were, or even at all. Many children were out and out killed in these experimentations that lasted from the 1950's to the 1960's, all sanctioned at the highest provincial government levels and funded by CIA and Canadian government funds.

He escaped many times in the four years that he was attempting, and until the last time, the police would scoop him up. He would plead his case to the police and provide incriminating details and all they would do was take him back for more rounds of abuse. The abuse was sexual, physical and clinical. In the latter case, he was given LSD, electroshock (ECT), and many other debilitating medications. He is currently disabled, largely from the ECT treatments, and has medical records that show a drilled hole in his skull and broken vertebre in his neck that gives him considerable pain. He also told me about the ongoing battles to get compensation, and that there has been statute of limitations legislation specifically applied to the Duplessis survivors. But way of his relating his experiences, he re-affirmed my cynicism of governmental involvement in covert and abusive practices in this country, and the associated complicity of the legal and clinical communities. He made intimitations that he still can be harassed by a covert agency, but I did not dig into this for "some reason", as that would connect the his abuse directly to mine; a covert national agency that abuses children and adults alike. And too, he validated some of my conspiratorial notions as to the wide scope of institutionalized abuse; the Mt Cashel orphanage was another litany of abuse that went to the highest levels of the Newfoundland government and the lesser known Jericho Hill abuses in Vancouver also left the staff unpunished. The native Indians also have many legitimate complaints with the so-called residential schools programs, where religious organizations undertook schooling for native children jerked off the remote reserves. It was a sobering conversation to say the least, and I don't know where it all fits into the nonconsensual human experimentation panalopy, except to remark that creating extreme duress for children is (or was) a high priority, just as placement of them in my proximity as gangstalking support is too. I remain convinced that there is a "high cabal" that is guiding both the institutionalized child abuses as well as conducting targeted harassment of individuals like myself, and at some level, there is a coordinated plan.

I just finished making lunch, the first cooking in four days due in good part to the new one-slice per meal diet the assholes have me on. And what a rage-ified and abusive event; every move was foiled and fucked with, extra noise games with no conventional causal event, force fields placed on my kidneys that came on only when I turned in place (hence the reason they like me to take yoga, as it makes one more remotely readable), brown crumb inundations, the "just stand there" imposed space-outs, and other fuckery that kept me highly infuriated. All the while the noisescape was amped up. I was glad it was over, and perhaps this is meant to be high harassment day. I know for sure when I go to gym later and find out how many and how often the gangstalkers are parked up my asshole.

Before making lunch I dealt with the laundry. The timing was that I clicked on the command to shut the PC down, then the phone rang and it was in-town brother with some totally useless conversations which covered the event of the PC actually shutting down. Then I got up to go to the laundry but an insect had "arrived" on an adjacent wall and I popped it, and a gush of blood came forth, considerably more than the insect could hold, and so I was obliged to wash my hands of the fucking mess before attending to the laundry. Then when back, the perps constantly fucked with laundry folding, something they always do, and then they rage-fied me over that, as that particular fuckery has been going on for decades now, and it is about time they gave it a rest. Regular readers will know the perps have a total obsession over laundry, and have applied myriad stunts and games to me to disrupt the process, and long before the overt harassment fuckery became known to me. On "trick" of the old days was to add red dye to white or light color garments to then render them unwearable. Thankfully, the perps will not allow red, yellow or brown colored garments and even trashed a light blue sweater when they got serious in 2003, one year after it began. Even having East Indians stealing my laundry at the hospital and wearing my clothes for me to see was all fair game in those outrageous days. Not my problem; go fuck my brother's commercial laundry operation and figure it out.

The "blood gushing" insect was the second one that "wandered" into view today, and I now have a brown mark on the wall behind this LCD panel to denote where it met its end. And of course I was not allowed to deal with it with a paper towel, as the perps wanted me on reckless mode, so to cover the rationale for making the mess. The perps have long had the reckless behavior governed, and it makes me wonder how much in the news is effected by that very means.

More imposed dissonance along with noisestalking me in the much observed post-meal digestion period. Even the local weather website has been hacked to ensure that I am not allowed to see what it is in advance of heading to the gym, a half hour walk each way. Witholding the weather forecast has been a long standing trick, or else giving me the wrong one for the day is another. It makes no sense, but there are many hundreds of these stunts that go on all the time, plenty I am not even aware of.

I have done my daily web troving, having been awakened so early today, and I was sapped of any motivation to clean the bathroom while doing the laundry, the usual event coordination.

For something slack, I will put some pictures in.

Taken 05-07-2008, around 1200h. You will need to zoom in on this one. A classic; three silver-grey vehicles abreast on the left side, two are behind the tree and the parked silver-grey pickup truck is visible. Then orthogonally, there are three red vehicles parked in file, "anchored" by a red pickup truck. ON the right side, two white colored vehicle parked, and a "yellowjacket", a yellow dressed gangstalker, this one a bicycle. At the bottom right, one of those infernal Smart Cars that plague this city, likely for harassment reasons related to their studies in the scale of how I percieve everything. And a lone motorized wheelchair act on the sidewalk, a near standard gangstalking act that is aided by the battery they pack around, and the seated position of the driver.

Taken 05-08-2008, 1110h. Under the powerlines, and strough the tree branches are two white colored trades vans. The parking lot is empty for crissakes, and nearly always is save gangstalking vehicles, and the perps parked the vehicles on the grass, in parallel, and on the bias and not orthogonal with the street orientations. Vehicles like these have been parking in the lot regularly, sometimes all day, and this time they decided that perversity was the better part of valor.

Taken 05-11-2008, 1136h. This is the parked vehicle line-up, a varied one to be sure and nothing too orchestrated about this collection. The only detail observant and regular readers will recognize is the rightmost vehicle, this infernal and fugly flatdeck pickup, one that usually packs palettes around wherever I go; e.g. last residence location and on my way to gym, presumably part of the "wood stalking" act. There is nothing on the flatdeck which is rare, so I am assuming that there was palettes on it, and the perps are attempting some kind or energetic interaction with former objects (palettes) that were stored on the flat deck. This is common, having me exposed to persons formerly wearing a jacket, or walking through former locations of vehicles.

Taken 05-11-2008, 1136h. This photo seems to have extra blue tone added as well as having plenty of vehicles with shining reflections when they are in the shadow of a building. The only direct sunlight is on the center silver-grey vehicle of the three on the left, under the power lines. And my recall was deleted as to the actual colors of the vehicles. With the exception of the mid-blued colored vehicle at the bottom of the picture, all the other vehicles are either white colored or metallic silver-grey finishes. I am amazed at the perps' abilities to supply a plasmic sheen to the vehicles that are in the shade of the adjacent building, but this is nothing new, only a good example.

I am soaking from a dose of the Pseudosweats; I had tea and chocolate once I got back from gym, and hot tea and the warm day is enough of an excuse to make me sweat considerably more than normal. The perps have been causing extra sweating every year now when they went into overt harassment in 2002. The even pooled sweat on the keyboard tray, as if it rolled of my hands, which it did not do.

I had a four freak classmember gym class; the oily tubby dude I call Ethnic Gut was making sure to get in my way and cross my tracks and otherwise appear most of the time where I "happened" to be looking. The perps even sent in a blonde dress-alike woman for a cruise through the gym area where the "do squats" were loitering and not doing very much. She was in black pants and a deep ink blue top, as was I, but she had one pant leg pulled up to her knee to show off her navy blue knee pad/brace, whatever it was. I thought the act was totally bizarre, but that wasn't the most outrageous of the day.

I had three women in fuschia colored clothing within two minutes of departing from the gym, and the same again when I got back; the perps arranged a confluence of bright pink wearing women outside my apartment. There was a mother and young daughter and one more coming at me, and I ended up in the center of them. I stopped in at the supermarket on the way back, and lo if I didn't get a double dose of the same color combination. The dipshit ahead of me that "tripped" on the carpet at the entrance and dithered around to hold me up was wearing blue and purple colored hair locks among his black hair. I turned the corner, getting a shopping basket in the process, and lo, if there wasn't a same blue and purple "reflection" from a display coming off the floor. Identical in colors and intensity (brightness). Someone tell me that is a fluke with a straight face. I have never heard anything from the clinical crowd as to these challenges I offer, so I wonder if their dissembling reticence has any merit whatsoever.

I had plenty of ambulatory gangstalkers on the street, and they liked to cluster at intersections. At the "freak stop", the one location where the freak du jour hangs out they put on "Kenny Boy" again, the negro dude that "happened" to at the hospital when the fuckers kept me there in 2003. That name was given to him long before I heard about his namesake associated with the Enron debacle. As mentioned a few weeks ago when Kenny Boy deigned to talk to me, and then cut me off, he hasn't aged a day since I saw him in 2003. Funny how that "happens" to some of the regulars, like him, and then me. At least he wasn't wearing that ridiculous beret on his head.

And a I got an almost-dwarf gangstalker today. After two adult dwarves in the past week, the perps put on a small adult, 4'8" or so, and staring at me. I haven't quite figured out what this is all about, but thankfully it is one of the more rare harassment themes.

The perps put on this woman gangstalker twice last week, at the same area, Tuesday when W. bound, and then Thursday when E. bound. I met her as one of the parents of the children that were classmates of my daughter about 1992-4 or so. She is blonde, but rather unattractive, if not repitilian even, and the perps "needed" to run her past me twice in one week, once in each direction of my walk. She didn't bother to say hello, and the perps had me cranked up to not look at her beyond a confirmatory glance. Freaking bizarre to say the least.

There was the usual 500 to 1,000 color coordinated gangstalk vehicles coursing by as I walked to the gym and back, and at least that number again of parked vehicles. At one parking lot there was 8 deep metallic red colored vehicles clustered at a single glance. The street digging they were onto last week was still in progress; it is at least the sixth re-work of the asphalt and concrete at that one location. I see they got the steel plates pulled and the street width trench covered with asphalt. The perps are all over me with the obsession about petroleum products. Yesterday's mention of the perps drilling holes in the street for no apparent purpose near gasoline fueling stations needs to be revised. They rebuilt the tanks at two locations, and have drilled a hole in the street nearby at each. It boggles the mind as to how much work they go to and yet won't summon the gumption to face me. My current take on the perps is that they are fucking nuts, and as this sentiment gets noisestalked anytime I mention it, the notion must server their interests as well.

I am getting an overhead pounding noise the instant I start writing down a phone number, and now the excessively squealing brake noise is coming from outside, as if I hadn't closed my window.

I hear the overhead vacuuming noise has started up while listening to one of my favorite performers, Jill Barber. The perps like to map sounds together; especially if the music is much Favored they blend in some vile noise in the background.

Time to call this done for the day and ponder what tomorrow's inanities will bring.

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