Thursday, May 15, 2008

Rage-ification With Brown Color Foods (+ one added paragraph )

The perps are continuing with their brown color obsession by having me infuriated at any juncture in making coffee and applying peanut butter to toast. They wouldn't let me get the package of coffee open, and kept dithering my finger control. This stunt that is regularly applied to me most mornings of the past two weeks was extended to at least a eight attempts, at which point they invoked me to become enraged at this fuckery. Getting me infuriated is their pre-eminent harassment technique, and to also note, that they control my "reactions", and ensure it is never, ever calm or deliberative. The ongoing background of noise has also been amped up, including the unerring coincidence of the most loathed chopped motorcycle noise when I have both hands busy at that very moment.

Then the perps go on to infuriate me over the peanut butter by creating clods of it in the base of the jar that roll around themselves, as if self-propelled, and "fail" to adhere to the knife. I have never had peanut butter behave like this before, but for me, all physicality is mutable should there be some harassment potential in it, all to create duress and tension, aka infuriation at these constant assaults. Today was just another morning, and it would seem that I am being prepared for the regular events of Thursdays, yoga and then gym in the afternoon. I expect a huge number of ambulatory gangstalkers today, as they attempt to correlate whatever bioenergetics assay results they have between my apartment, walking in the local streets, and the yoga practice room. Then this will repeat for this afternoon's trip to the gym. The empahsis seems to be on red dressed male gangstalkers of late, after a suitable introductory duration of 20 minutes or more.

The vision impairment fucery is also coming on strong today; the sensation of hair being stuck in my left eye is continuing since it started just out of the shower. Now, it has re-arrived to "happen" while at my desk.

This is the interim between yoga and gym; the noise parade is on along with the plasma and maser beams in my field of vision. I am wearing the track pants to both activities, these being the pair that had to be washed twice yesterday, the latter by themselves as a "lint track" erupted on them after the first washing and would not come off in the dryer. Adding tracks of lint when the clothes are supposed to get cleaner, not worse, from laundering has been going on for a few months now, only white colored lint so far. Regular readers will know of the perp's abiding obsession over laundering clothes, and that they have gone as far as to have my out-of-town brother acquire and operate a commercial laundry. And as well, it was the one business they had me "help out" with repairing dryers, and dryer motors in September 2007 on a week's outing trip that I took with my parents.

When transiting to and from yoga today I had plenty of skinheads as ambulatory gangstalkers, and with them, large numbers of the "helmet heads", the cyclists, some of them walking their bicycles on the sidewalk for crissakes. And more of the ambulatory gangstalkers are packing brown paper bags, coffee or both as portable brown color references the perps seem to need in my proximity. I also note that my black acrylic fiber underwear has now been enhanced with brown colored thread ends. Funny how that "happened" to all five pairs about the same time.

At yoga, the perps put on only women class members, and the instructor is a woman too. Normally, they put on the one guy who is OK, and then increased by one, the dude in his freaking white long johns underwear. This time we picked a card from a specialized deck about intention, and I selected one about "cleaning out the debris", that being the assholes who are hounding and abusing me. I am sure that was planned, as the card had a deep red color theme to it. And lo, if there wasn't a deep red shirt stashed about 4' away and under the chairs against the wall. One could not lose a shirt in that circumstance, and there was no way it could fit past the tight packed chairs. Anyhow, apart from removing the six or so exotic threads, dog hairs and sparkle glitter pieces that arrive on me or around me, at yoga, I still wasn't done with them. There was a 10 minute natter after class about a certain activist and book author we "happened" to know (the instructor and I), and lo, if the theme word, "trauma" didn't get mentioned. Once I departed, and was about 10' from the door, someone called out to me and showed this burgundy red shirt to me, indicating that I left it, which I didn't of course. I replied that it wasn't mine, and it belonged to someone else (har, har). For anyone else to find that shirt where it was placed meant that they were informed about it, and someone "needed" me to be exposed to the color when I was on the street. I suppose that natter time, rare as it is, was all about conditioning me to another location in the room, the opposite wall, before the shirt was pulled out for its gangstalking display purposes. It is fucking bizarre, all these feints and dodges over clothing color, and the nature of the lighting when seen. The perps are a long way from done if this is what they are fucking with.

Did I predict more harassment? And so it was, an all-out silly show. I was intending to complete a check and mail it to the income tax authorities when on my way to gym. Just as I was reaching into my briefcase to extract the check book and the stamps, the fire alarm went on, and stayed on. And of course it isn't far away, across the hallway from my front door. Regular readers will know that I am constantly hounded by noise, and/or gangstalkers when paying for anything, by debit card at the checkout or even writing out checks and putting them in envelopes. So... "I decided" (read, imposed behavior control) to keep going and write the check out, fill out the remittance form, seal the envelope, fill out my return address on the envelope, and put a stamp on it while the fire alarm was ringing the entire time. Eventually the sirens started up, but I was determined to get this done and pay my income taxes, and then post the envelope (brown and blue colored, note), on my way to the gym.

I cannot recall if this is the seventh or eight fire alarm in a year at this residence location, but the perps pulled it at the one activity they rountine fuck me over about, and that is paying by way of mailed check and remittance coupon. And the stairwell hadn't been cleaned up since last week's fire alarm that was for no genuine reason. There was a red spattered sticky substance on the floor and newspapers lying on the floor as well, seemingly stuck there. In additon, they had a rolled up carpet in the stairwell, totally illegal to place it there, the backing being visible, and brown colored too.

Once I got into the stairwell I had two thuggy dudes in front of me in varying black, white and grey colors, and then further down, a skinhead was letting in people from another floor, and then inserted himself ahead of me. For the last few floors I had this odious bobbing skinhead in front of me. At the second floor there was real smoke, and real firement no less, so I scuttled past and into the lobby and then outside were there were some 50 "residents" on either side of a central exit path to the sidewalk, where I proceeded to deal with the rest of the freakshow on my way to the gym. Outside the building, parked on the street, was a firetruck, yellow and white colored in this city. Once I was a block away, there were four more fire vehicles arriving with horns blaring. Anyhow, more freaks were in place, some of them brightly dressed in near day-glo orange and fuschia, and I eventually got to the mailbox and mailed my letter.

Proceeding further, it was like a parade almost; extra "pedestrians", four in succession wearing crimson red no less, others were sitting outside for no reason, and by walking on the N. side of the major aterial street (Yates for locals), I ended up walking past the very firehall where the firetrucks came from. And lo, if the yellow and white command vehicle wasn't returning as I passed in front. The rest of my trek to the OB Rec. Center for gym class was uneventful, save the increased gangstalkers they put ahead or behind me. They had a white boomtruck at the OB Junction, the scene of the November assault, and later, they were still digging up the road with more delivered asphalt to smooth out a small ramp for the steel plates to cover the full road-width ditch they created. Regular readers will know about the perps' intense interest in petroleum products, and having me proximate to their associated props and games. I had the usual 500 to 1,000 mobile gangstalking vehicles in color and vehicle type configurations, with greater emphasis on red colors today. At one location they arranged six red vehicles within my field of view, headed in differing directions. The arranged parked vehicles was likely the same number again, and there was more arrangements; three same crimson red vehicles with four black colored vehicles and not other colors in one apartment parking lot. There were so many same color vehicle arrangements, mobile or parked, or both together, that I gave up counting them all.

I am getting the "phenomenon crossfire"; selective overhead pounding or clunking, faux neighbor water use noise, that past-mentioned plasmic faux reflection of light beaming down on me from an impossible angle (as pictured in past blogs), and some vision fuckery, all the while reading, with plastic earmuffs on, a blog posting about JFK Jr.'s apparent sabotaged aircraft. I was obliged to pull the curtains owing to ongoing flashes across my desk and keyboard. I haven't followed the JFK Jr. case, but the circumstances of the event seems to be highly irregular in the least. Anyhow, as I was so attentive in reading an article that covered the theme words of; death, assassin, sabotage, and like skullduggery, I was put in the center of this directed activity. It should be noted that topics of this nature are always noisestalked, and often with additional phenomenon.

More phenomenon convergence; a screeching tire from outside with an overhead clicking noise at the very same instant.

A chirpy on-off siren noise has started up, and now a honking from the same noise source, ostensibly the police, but usually the perps playing games.

A new phenomenon has come to "join" in the above mentioned convergence; an electric like pulse up my leg, from my foot to the knee, and lasting a second or so. So far, it has only been on the left leg, and it will no doubt be used elsewhere if it is successful. And it is the same story as above, "happening" when I read someone's name, especially in the obituaries.

Yesterday was a heavy obituary read as my professional forester monthly publication came in the mail. There were at least two that I had met who had recently died, and others that I had heard of but didn't meet. All this was grist for the perps' mill, the noisestalking and the leg pulsing with other simultaneous events like transitory vision impairments.

Getting back to the trip to the gym; I had two incidents where someone was coming at me in close, within 2', and then breaks his conversation off and stares at me for no fucking reason. The new red hatted class member was coming at me as I had turned a corner and came into his view, he was talking to his "pal", and then crosses my path immediately in front of me, stops talking and stares at me as if I had any relevance to what he was saying to his pal. The dude doesn't even know me, but somehow knew to act this strange "for me"; bizarre to say the least.

Then on the way back, walking along the sidewalk of an aterial street, an East Indian and an Asian dude "pop out" from an entrance 8' in front of me, turning a corner to enter onto the sidewalk, and in true harassment fashion, don't look to see that there might be someone coming at them, and then when I wanted to get by, and said "excuse me", the Asian fucker turns around and stares and me, which I (read, mind controlled me) say, "I would like to get by" (because I walk so much faster than nearly everyone I encounter). This asshole made it out that he had no clue that he stepped into someone's path and then impeded them. I think we have heard this story before, if I am allowed to report these events accurately in this blog. Two days ago when coming back from the gym, and across the street from this particular event, I was returning from the gym, and there was this woman sitting on something next to an unused planter, facing my direction as I was approaching her from 30' away. She looked well dressed and appeared to be waiting for someone, though it was rather contrived. I looked at her, and she was staring at me, straight on, eyes boring into me. Then when I was some 4' away, I looked nearly sideways, and there was an oxygen tube across her face, feeding into her nose. There was no evidence of a tank I could see, but the entire arrangement was decidedly odd, as usually women of means have a vehicle at their disposal to avoid waiting in a public area outside a hairdressers. That was the day that I got my haircut, which I sure was not the factor, and more likely it had to do with the vinyl tube across her face and the oxygen feed. The perps have been unfurling my sink mat of late, and there has been other events to suggest that they are "exercising" more stunts involving vinyl and PVC of late.

In my thirties, the perps created panic attacks, and one incident had me in emergency with the same kind of setup, a narrow diameter oxygen tube. It was the first time I had seen one of these, and perhaps the above event was a replication attempt, she being the one breathing oxygen through a vinyl tube and not me. The perps have focussed some of their stunts and fuckery around my breathing, and related inhalation. By "coincidence" this is also a regular component of the yoga, and the gym class. In my analysis of the pre-overt harassment (before 05-2002) activities that I engaged in, it would seem that the perps have a problem related to pollutants taken in by my lungs, plastics and the like. As always, not my problem, so why am I involved in this ongoing abuse and harassment without consent and in outrageous violation of my civil liberites? All meted out by the same assholes who have monitored my every breath since I was born, an all out demonstration of thanklessness; fuck the victim some more (over six years now), because they screwed up.

My answer to that question is more noisestalking, seemingly coordinated with each word, and the completion of the sentence, forced typos, typo repairs, and thoughts related to all that.

The most-loathed motorcycle noise is still going strong today. There were at least 12 motorcycles on my walking to the gym and back, real ones, and not the noise-only games that go on outside my apartment, still continuing. I reckon the total count of all motorcycle noise is over 150 today, an absurdly high number when I get close to none some days. And no, there is no biker club for 5 miles, and this is not their kind of town. Somehow, the perps know I cannot stand this fucking noise, and play it for key moments in their action-at-a-distance activities, also aided by pounding the 12" of concrete floor/ceiling overhead.

And when walking to the gym and back, by dint of "coincidence" the perps arranged the same white colored redi-mix concrete truck to go past me when headed to the gym, and then again when headed home, both events taking place within a 100 yards of each other. Other road material obsessions relate to asphalt, and again, they were re-working their diggings of two days ago, making a street-wide trench that was covered in steel plates with fresh asphalt ramps for ease of vehicle tires traversing them. Regular readers will know of the perps' obsession over concrete and asphalt, and in this instance, they are digging a trench at an intersection they completed in Feburary. Two days ago it was a half street width trench, and today it is a full width trench. There has been at least five re-pavings of asphalt after their first paving, and this will invoke one more.

There seems to be something important about the color of the redi-mix trucks that the perps are working on, as the most dominant concrete delivery service in town has white colored drums with two 2' wide bands around the drum, one black colored, the other red colored. Their cab is a light yellow color. And for some reason, a new concrete delivery service has been started up with all white vehicles with some navy blue lettering on the drum and cab. There are at least two more residential towers that are going to be built within a block of my apartment, and it would seem that this is going to factor into the perps' plans for yet more exposure to concrete and all its bioenergetic interactions they are attempting to remotely assay. I note that my high school is getting a seismic upgrade, and the perps (I think) are building large concrete abuttments and staircases at the ends of the building. I am sure all this is related, and possibly because there are similar constituents of bone and concrete, and this makes their energetic distinction much more problematic. Same retort as above.

Time to call this day done, and blog off, up and down as it has been.

No comments: