Monday, May 19, 2008

Mondays Are For Yellow Testing

I am back at my place after an Sunday activity, helping at carpet auctions, and then a stay-over at my parents' place with some morningtime gardening activity. Today is a the day there is a large, over four hour parade down the mainstreet of this city, Victoria, on a Victoria Day long weekend. Many of the US high school bands come up here to participate as a "tune up" for their next week's Memorial Day weekend. Without them, the parade would likely be two hours shorter, as there is only two local highschool bands, none from up-island or the Lower Mainland (Vancouver, North Vancouver, Surrey etc.). The perps pulled a light rain for the latter half of the parade which also served to curtail my landscape maintenance activities at my parent's place, both of them hanging around me, gangstalker style. Given the interest the perps have in asphalt and concrete and all the associated energetic interactions with humans, and me specifically, the perps should have had a field day with the parade, in all its riot of colors and uniforms, with figuring out their energetic objectives. Today's highly gangstalked drive in from my parent's place to downtown with the light rain suggests that the perps are still attempting to understand the human to asphalt/bitumen interactions.

After an initial black, white, and silver grey sampling of vehicle colors, the perps decided to introduce yellow into the gangstalking mix. The pattern of the last four weeks has been that there are three vehicles ahead, and usually two intervening "reference" colors (black, white, and silver grey) and a long gap behind me, usually 100' or more. Today's lead vehicle was an original Mini, aka Mini Minor in a mustard yellow, a rare vehicle here though legal in their day. This was preceded by having lunch with my parents, and lo, if I didn't eat a banana, and my mother take a yellow vitamin B complex supplement before we departed. And Mondays are the day where I "forget" to take my yellow and white capsuled Nortriptyline. Regular readers will know that the perps have an obsession over this color and that they introduce it in small discrete quantities and slowly build up to larger exposures to this color. I don't have a known aversion to this color, though the perps have often made me much more reactive to this color than I ordinarily am. This is the same situation for red, burgundy, brown, and all variants and combinations. The perps chosen color for which they expect the most leverage, aside from the above mentioned "reference" colors, is blue, a color that I prefer, or Favor. (A capitalized "F" if you have followed the Essential Introductory Postings.)

Needless to say, a day and a half away is a huge playground for the perps to put on all kinds of stunts, color introduction games, gangstalkings, television exposures (at my parents'), different towel colors, and the rest of the environmental arrangements that go with this totally orchestrated existence. Thankfully there were four helpers at this carpet auction instead of just two of us like last time, as I was totally bushed by the end of it, and stayed the Sunday night at my place. This neatly segued into the Monday morning film script revisions that went at least two iterations with the film director. It would seem that the perps were attempting to capture some of the residual carpet auction bioenergetics with the 35mm camera the next day, and having me stay at my place, and work side by side with the film director over the script was all part of the plan. Yesterday was the first carpet auction since then, Mar. 23, 2008, and at the same location, and with one "helper" being the same as then.

And it is curious as to how it was arranged, with the older person of last time who took an ancillary role was in a directing capacity this time, and even called me by name often for varied tasks to reduce my carpet lugging time. Not that I am complaining, as some are very heavy, and any legitimate relief from that is all for the good. A Sunday on a long weekend usually isn't the best of timing to do business, and when they are looking for $20k or more for some of their silk on silk carpets, it is difficult to get competitive bidders.

We were each paid $60 in three green colored $20's, and we all took the same bus back into downtown, with my three "helper" buddies arranged around me in the adjacent seats. Regular readers will know the perps are consumed with the color of everything I contact and see, and especially so with my my wallet contents. Which is why so many dudes have been flashing their wallets of late, and why I got a ride back from my helper buddy at the last carpet auction. Yesterday, it seemed to be a test on a city bus; two freaks in green clothes were behind me (one with yellow socks for crissakes), and my buddies beside or ahead of me with their green $20's in their wallets or wherever they kept their money. There were other bus stop games going on, where one "helper" told me about yet more bountiful benefits for being disabled, my given cover story, and then when he took off, a granny came to sit in the precise location on the bench where he had sat, within 30 seconds. The said granny then got into some unusual behaviors, doing "stand ups", where she stood up in front of the bench for no reason whatsoever. Later, she claimed out loud, "I see my son", as if he "happened" to be coursing by from a distance, but in fact, there was no such interaction beyond that. And even more oddly, she was looking at me afterward. Anyhow, she got off the bus within five minutes of transit time, and could have taken a taxi at little cost of she wanted to really get to this location. It was very strange, I suspect she might of been a morphover of someone I know.

I saw the latter half of the Enron: the Smartest Guys in the Room last night, and was appalled at the dedication to illegality that pervaded the organization, and that it was an overhyped house of cards waiting to come down. I forget the financial devastation in dollar terms, or more likely, am not allowed to remember, but it is interesting that Ken Lay was good pals with Pres. George Bush, and the latter did absolutely nothing to reduce the financial carnage. There was ample electrical generating capacity in California then, and yet there was all these arranged shortages which were covered by short term market purchases which Enron controlled. Good old free enterprise at work in a de-regulated market.

The outbound bus was interesting yesterday, it being a double decker to Sidney, where the carpet auction was. I had three blondes arranged around me in adjacent seats, 4' to 7' away. There were some fugly women "hippies" arranged in the seat directly across from me, and they took turns sleeping one against the other. Another of their colleagues was in a corded/matted hairdo, one of the most Unfavored hair arrangements the perps like to orchestrate in my proximity. I don't know why I don't care for this style, and nor do I care why, but it is of constant interest to the assholes that keep hounding me with what I don't prefer to look at.

On the Unfavored topic some more, I had my "greeting party" in the apartment lobby when I came back, exiting my parents' vehicle from across the street; it was the "Duece Dudes" formation, where they are conversing about 5' apart, and only leave me room to pass between them. This was a typical arrangement, a negro on one side, and an Caucasian on the other, and is at least the fifth time this same setup with the same negro has been arranged in the past year. No end of "street debates" happen in my proximity, and to have two of the Unfavored as "greeters", (gangstalking sentries) is only one more example of the endless combinatorial orchestrated fuckery. The "split couple" move is another similar gangstalking move where a male-female pair split apart to leave me room to pass between them, and then recombine. Sometimes it is so plainly contrived that they almost seem embarassed. One can be sure that I have no choice in how I react or where I go in the mind-contolled "reaction" to these quasi-confrontations.

Another round of late evening reflectance games, into this apartment of course. I was "compelled" to take more pictures outside all of a sudden, and then there was a confluence of vehicles of specific colors as well as a burst of ambulatory gangstalkers in their arm flinging walking act that is so hilarious. I will put some pictures in below, and then string them out for a few days. Though no one has told me anything about the pictures; more, less, are they boring, interesting or what? And that is part of the entire game, keeping me incommunicado, even online which is relatively impersonal and protracted.

I had another "bread stalking" yesterday when headed to the bus. These are incidents where bread, sliced, unsliced, packaged and unpackaged, is placed along my route. It happens about every two weeks where the bread is placed or offered in incongruous settings; at a street corner, offered by a class member after yoga, and other oddities. Yesterday the bread was placed in whole loaf and unpackaged on a 2' retaining wall, at the same instant the "tubby running boy" was coming past me. He was an absurd sight; it was 1800h and I was headed to the bus, and this teenage looking kid is running along the sidewalk in a brown shirt, black and white pants, and a black and light grey large pack, and keeps going, with the Walk signal in his favor to keep up his trot. So, I round the corner of the next block to get to the bus stop, and by "coincidence", there his is, waiting for me. And waiting for the same bus at is turned out, which was still to come, taking another five minutes. In the interim, a greasy male weird in a black leather coat arrives and loiters at the bus stop. And when it did come, they let me on first, likely for the reason that there was only one seat left. I could not believe it, at 1800h on a Sunday evening of a long weekend on a bus headed to suburbia for a 40 minute journey, here was about 35 "people" (read, gangstalkers) on the freaking bus. And lo, if it wasn't like so many of the city bus freakshows that I get. I had the young dudes with their rough surfaced skate boards in two planes arranged around me, a loathesome yellow plaid ball capped dude, some Asians, and a few others of the Unfavored, and my bus stop "pals" were left as standing passengers. The greasy dude in the leather jacket got off after three stops, and I forget where the "running boy with large backpack" got off. And lo, if the perps didn't have that gasoline tanker with the pup trailer "on duty" while the bus waited at its adjacent stop. In the last five years of in-town harassment, there has to be at least 20 to 30 events where the gasoline delivery tractor trailer and pup "happened" to be delivering gasoline on my Sunday night route to my parents' place or on the way back. Regular readers will know the perps are obsessed about petroleum products, and ensure that I am routinely exposed to them, even if I was fucked out of owning an automobile nearly two years ago. Hence, the reason for the perps to have my parents keep a jar of petroleum jelly on the dining room windowsill for no apparent need. There is something extremely important the perps want to know about petroleum products, asphalt included of course, and its bioenergetic reactions with me. And yet they persist in attempting to determine this remotely, now over six years later, and lack the fucking gumption to show up in person to expedite attainment of their objectives.

I think it was here, two weeks ago that the perps had arranged a street drilling on my Sunday evening bus trip, at the very same location where the above gasoline tanker was. Today, when driving by the same location, they let me in on what the street drilling was about, which was nothing discernable. No kidding, it was at least a 12" auger through the concrete sidewalk, and today, there was only a patch of concrete to mark the location. In other words, the perps had the drilling machine and auger, along with a jackhammered hole in the sidewalk, all for me to see and energetically react with, the soil or drill rig. At another location on my regular route to the gym, they did this same seeming senseless street drilling near the gasoline station they rebuilt down to blasting new rock to accomodate the new plastic tanks. Then, it was a 2 to 4" hole as I recall into the repaved asphalt road surface. When I lived in Seattle, they had an empty lot drilled at least for two holes, as if it were an exploratory drill for engineering studies. And I have seen many excavations in the past 10 years, which I assume counts in all of this insane quest they are keeping to themselves and are in no hurry to expedite.

A very early morning due to perp games after an ugly night dealing with the creepy crawly sensations of insects on me. And in fact, they did put two on me early in the game to inculcate me into thinking that the following many would be real ones too, which they weren't. I had a fascinating two hour telephone conversation with a Duplessis Orphan survivor last night, which took my usual time to get this posted. More on this in the next post.

No comments: