Tuesday, June 10, 2008

Back to Being Harassed

This is a Tuesday, and I returned from my parents' place this morning with my cleaned sheets and blankets. It was a bed bug infestation that was sprayed for yesterday, and I had thought it was ticks, although similar in shape and size. But no bites mysteriously. And I will go through all the disruption again in three weeks as part of the regimen to contain them for good. Lucky me, and it was a brutal rage-ified time putting this place back together after all the furniture had been pulled from the walls on Sunday before I left.

The desk unit, an Ikea Ivar set-up, wasn't the easiest thing to move as it has no structural rigidity and will flex and break at the joints of the shelves and pins. It had to be emptied of everything heavy, including my PC, which meant re-doing the connections again, and dealing with the ongoing situational cognitive impairments as applied by the perps; wrong connection in the wrong place, stopping the DIN pins from aligning, crossing up the wires, causing the wires to bind, and every possible permutation of fuckery going. I was also vacuuming this place after the spraying, and presumably picked up plenty of dead bugs as well. Dusting also came into it, as well as replacing all the items pulled off the shelving unit. It was non-stop rage-ification for doing every task for one and a half hours until all was done. And this was timed for pre-lunch, always a high harassment time for the assholes. There were plenty of outside noises timed for my outbursts, and the perps are also jerking me around with a dry cough that erupts at strategic moments, usually when there is an uncontrolled thought. Either that, or them have me scratch imaginary itches on my face. It is all getting fucking tiresome to be cognitively fucked with all day, even for the most simplest of activities. They even took my attention off the job I was doing for its own sake, and had me dithering around with something unimportant. Only when they let me in on the fact that they distracted me, was I allowed to get screaming enraged over this stunt, a new one as far as disruptive mind attacks go.

This rage show was enough to have me too pissed off to go to gym later, and I am sure this is really the scripted plan, as this afternoon idleness makes it like a Monday arrival, rather than a regular Tuesday event. And in that same frame, of Monday events on Tuesday, they had me take my crap today, rather than yesterday when at my parent's place. It is amazing that they like to have it both ways; changing up the schedule and disruption and yet proceeding as if this were like a different day of the week. No doubt my Monday wakefulness will be scripted for tonight instead.

I have just finished my tea and chocolate, and this has also prompted a big noise flurry from outside; noise-wise, a bus is coming by every two minutes or so, when it it one route, and only the outbound portion, when the scheduled frequency is closer to every 20 minutes. All to add the excessive brake squealing, over and under revving, air pressure release noise, and the beeping associated with the lowering of the front axle to faciliate egress for impaired passengers.

All my bedsheets were taken to my parent's place for laundering, and that was quite the event. Regular readers will know that the perps are obsessed over my laundry activities, so by taking them to my parents' place, why, it was a golden event to make comparisions of my bioenergetics and the entire laundry activities while there. As all the sheets had been soiled by blood smears (bed bugs as the cover story), it was due for heavy laundering; bleach, applications of Shout, Amaze, soaking and the like "caused" a tear in my fitted sheet, and the very light brown flat sheet to turn a brighter shade of peach. I was so pissed with this color change the assholes imposed, that I threw the sheet out. I had it only for a few months, and got sucked into buying a light brown colored sheet by way of plasmic light fuckery games at the store, and now, the assholes decided that they didn't want me to have that sheet. They could of turned it into a white color, which is what they did to my fitted sheet as well as the pillow cases. My mother was somehow compelled to iron the pillow cases, which will make them the first ironed laundry I have used in over two years, by perp imposition and behavioral control. I am not too fussed about this, as my one sheet set system works fine, and if applied to the bed shortly after laundering, the wrinkles come out. But it is interesting that the perps are allowing things to be ironed after such a long hiatus.

I had the usual paternal gangstalking while at the parent's place; my father does all this pacing back and forth, posing in doorways for partially obscured sighting, and standing up at his seat for no reason, all under the guise of Alzheimer's. Trouble is, he is so consistent in doing this it cannot be anything but controlled or orchestrated. No one else in the family seems too fussed about his "condition", so I suspect it is all a big show. It is when he stands over me that I get pissed enough to tell him to sit down. I suspect all this senseless agitation on his part is some kind of perp stunt to introduce him in "small visual pieces"; a foot, an arm, a portion of his torso, and as I reported last weekend, the lighting conditions are important too. He was doing his back and forth pacing the adjoining darkend dining room, visible from the living room where I was. Which suggests that the perps are attempting to build some kind of profile of him starting from ill-lit visual portions, and in some way, this is their method to reconstruct a negative subconscious perspective I have of him. In his case, he has a history of abusiveness, and perhaps this makes it the challenge for the perps in their ongoing fuckery. As they have been at this particular objective for close to five years, I sense they will need at least two more to continue more games in playing with lighting, posing and parading him around. And of course, they have me "react" to the sight of him with immediate loathing, another never-before behavior that has been imposed on me. In one instance of "reacting" to his purposeful "loitering", the perps put on the strange metallic and blackish blobs in mid-air they sometimes employ. Not my problem, so why am I being fucked with all the time over the depravities of past abuse that was administered according to a script written by a psychopathic agency?

The June weather has been turned to rain this week, and even if sunny, it is not warm. This is true for the entire west coast, Alaska to California. I suspect the light rains have been helpful for the perp cause, as they happen so often in timing with me setting off somewhere, or departing from a store when there was no rain when going in. I reckon there are at least 30 such events in the past five years of ongoing harassment, related to grocery shopping alone.

I saw the doctor yesterday, and I suppose returning back to my parents' place from seeing him was another big perp event. They put on their "regulars" in the waiting room when I exited, and had a black Ford Escape parked outside his office when I drove there in my parent's silver-grey Escape with a hint of brown, parked some 20' behind it. A loafing male sentry was also posted across the street as seen through the doctor's office window for the first five minutes of the appointment. The doctor is East Indian, one up on the brown skin scale from the Asian doctor I had until Febuary, and regular readers will know the the perp's obsession over all things of brown color, and brown by name, are of intense interest to them. This apartment is managed by a local firm called Brown Bros. and my mother's maiden surname is Brown.

The doctor claimed to have read my blog after I challenged him to do so, and I asked him if it seemed reasonably logical and coherent, and he said yes. I was even allowed to cogently represent myself at the doctor's appointment, and "recalled" more timely information in supporting my case in response to his questions. There are always some responses which seemed less than complete in hindsight, and the perps like me to do this retrospective analysis of the appointment for the next day or two. His angle of selling a neuroleptic medication to me was that I must be under constant stress, and that Seroquel would help. He avoided the psychosis angle, and essentiallty eliminated it from any consideration (IMHO) when he spoke about this blog, as mentioned above. I "conceded" and said I would try it for a week, and as it doesn't cost me anything, it might "help". Translated, that it might become the excuse to decrease the rage shows that I get stiffed with. Or, more likely, it will invoke some kind of neural changes to enable more neural perp fuckery. And "for some reason", I didn't mention that my entire stress reaction is likely governed by the perps, and that I am not likely being stressed in the same way as an nontargeted individual.

The above mentioned "regulars" are the operatives who gangstalked me when illegally incarcerated in the hospital for five months in 2003, and who "re-surface" now and again, often in the same guise as patients. At least this one aged, unlike "Kenny Boy" of the past three months, now with three recent appearences, the negro operative who ragged my ass when there. (And named long before the infamous Kenny Boy of the despicable Enron scam became widely known). Funny how all these coincidences keep "erupting"; I don't know when to say stop, as there have been so many, most not detailed in this blog, as they seem too inconsequential. But as I have said, there are no coincidences in my life, orchestrated as it is down to airborne dust particles (spinning dizzily), and every thing I see, hear, learn, know or otherwise percieve. Not a sparrow will fall in this town without the perps managing for it.

That I packed my laundry back to my apartment in a black plastic bag was also a big deal; before setting off, my father put on the ditz act and passed by the vehicle door he was to use, and then followed behind me to the Escape's tailgate, and then made out he was catching the plastic bag by putting his hands out to catch it, when in fact it wasn't falling, and was secure in my grasp. Then he hung around for me putting the plastic bag of clean laundry into the cargo area. I had a similar posse when I arrived; a way fugly dreadlocked negro dude with a do-rag in his hair (four Unfavoreds) "happened" to be entering the building just behind me, and then in the elevator. Another two dudes were in the lobby, but didn't take the elevator for whatever reason. I don't quite understand how the fuglies, aka, the Unfavored, relate to the perps' plastic pollution problem (in me, much like anyone else), but time without fail, the stunts are highly integrative. Not my problem, so why am I being hounded my a sick shadow organization for over six years without the gumption to get out out of their fucking rut of nonconsensual human life-rape, aka harassment?

It was a First Feral Family dinner Sunday night, 06-08, at my ex's place, for our daughter's 18th birthday. I expected better, food and drink wise, but it was also sad on interaction. No one seemed to ask about anyone, me or others, and the whole thing was one of those desultory "ugh" events. It should of been a whole lot more celebrative, but I suspect the event was arranged to be a letdown, or at least it was how I was managed to percieve it. My ex's eldest daughter, now over 40, arrived with her youngest two, aged 12 and 10, and husband. I was seated between husband and wife, for what I assume was an extension of a long-used perp stunt, the split couple gangstalk, except this was for the two hours of the meal. They had just come from a sailing trip to Salts Spring Island, one of my haunts from childhood summer vacation days, so I assume this was in fulfillment of the perps' games with their geographic energetic related fuckery they expose me to. Ms. C of the story would go on about vacationing on Salt Spring Island, but as it turned out, it was all about name dropping, and nothing more.

And there was the usual litanies of name dropping in the course of the dinner, related to the perps' objectives; helicopters, war, religion, commonly known places, and the rest. The perps wouldn't let me count them up, my usual trick to remembering a long list.

My recall is being totally fucked with of late, and I have no idea as to when or why it suddenly craps out, and at other times, is fully on. It is likely related to the situational perps research games, e.g. incremental exposure to familar persons, notions, recollections and the rest of the idiotic parsing and energetic decomposition they apply to every visual, perceptive, syntactical, meme or other thought process. Even spelling words is getting sabotaged, and my error detection of them too, until some minutes later when I "happen" to catch the planted error, and when repairing the word, the noisestalking starts up the instant I delete the offending characters and replace them in the correct order. The same word "somehow" gets mispelled (aka typo sabotage) for months in the identical manner each time. That is something that never happened before the assholes jumped on me in 2002.

And it was heavy red colored TV last night, a rare Monday night that I watch TV at my parent's place. The CBC network has red livery and graphics which came on plenty often, and had the movie "Pretty Woman" which I had not seen before. The Julia Roberts character's hair was predominantly red, one outfit was red, and there was plenty of red toned upholstery in the Richard Gere character's penthouse suite. I almost felt sick after the show was over. I have noted in past blogs that the perps will directly manipulate TV imagery and re-color it, but I don't know if this was the case. The perps seem to be upping the level of red color augmentation around me, and it is getting plain absurd to see so many males wearing bright crimson red shirts and jackets.

And I also noticed a native Indian art theme last night in the TV news; a new Salish tribe gateway at Stanely Park in Vancouver was on the news, the police recovered a big art theft of coast Indian art, and there was one more story that I cannot recall. As the theft was big news last week, and the curators were unwilling to put a price on the loss, it really did make me ponder as to the possibility that this stunt was arranged by the perps for bringing it to the public eye. I wasn't too vexed by the theft, and the perps made sure that I was planted with disparaging notions as to how original the art was, as the Indians did not have access to the amount of gold and goldsmithing methods until sustained contact with the Caucasians. And as I type this out, I am getting more frenetic levels of outside bus noise as overhead pounding. A sensitive harassment topic it seems. But what I still don't get, is what is the point of arranging this orchestrated convergence of Indian art on one evening's TV viewing? More chirping tire noise as I wrote that, a big perp interest they are telling me by way of noisestalking flurries.

I am getting more of the forced dry cough; as soon as I read specific person names online, open an email posting on a forum (fellow TI's, likely just as monitored and surveilled), click on a link, and the rest of online minutae that is so fascinating to the assholes who impose their continued sick quest. I am the representation of 54 years, next month, of the perps' long running fuckup games they are attempting to remediate/discover. The noise from outside is getting intense at this pre-dinner time, and so I shall have something to eat.

This is the silly time, dusk onset. I am getting my custom apartment illumination from "reflections" from W. facing residential towers whose "reflections" unerringly find me at my chair, cast in this special glow. The pictures of the past two months have the convincing details.

It has been an ongoing rage game of forcing me to hack and cough, and then having me get utterly pissed off about this imposition, as it is timed to new web pages, clicking, reading names, thinking outside the intended conformity, and any perception of any kind that is not managed by my mind-keepers.

The Tuesday church bell practice was also running for the last hour, and that brings on perp extra perp depravity as well. The "neighbor" clunking and faked water running noises have also been ramped up, so this must be an important harassment moment. The perps also demotivated me to not go to the supermarket for a Chicken Run, and I "settled" (read, was dociled) into eating hazel nuts for dinner, the ones that had been lying in the sealed plastic bag for the past month, untouched. This might also be a big plastic energetic interaction test tonight, especially with having me enraged for most of the day, the fucking assholes. The perps have an obsession about the bioenergetics of digesting nuts; I only ate cashews for lunch when hiking, 1.5 hours each direction, and they are still beating on this food item and whatever it is they don't know. They had my daughter loathing nuts until she was 16 in another parallel gambit that has yet to be understood.

The typo sabotage is getting out of hand, and the perps are running me for an immediate rage reaction at every jerkaround, so it is time to stop journalling for now.

An re-editing of the above and adding the links in got me plenty of overhead clunking, coughing and hacking, vocalized annoyances, and other noise and impositions.

Some listening to Rachel Ries; her song titled "Adrian", my first given name, and the one the doctor "inadvertently" used (IMHO) yesterday. Yet another coincidence that was managed for ulterior purposes.

Time to call this one done; I was allowed to read my old postings for the first time in over two years. Amazing, all these simple things are so tightly regulated.

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