Thursday, July 31, 2008

Elevator Etiquette Degeneration

I have commented previously on the bizarre elevator etiquette that erupts around me since the harassment began in 2002. This has largely been in the form of a fuckwit attempting to barge in before I get out, and I let them know it by coming at them. I get temporarily "spaced out" to miss the all-important instant at which they enter, and am allowed to cognitively process the rudeness only after it has begun, usually when they are at the threshold of entering the door before it has fully opened.

Today, a fuckwit operative took this to new heights and entered the elevator BEFORE either of us, me and another "tenant" had exited. It is fucking outrageous to say the least. In other words, the gangstalking operative who barged into the elevator with the two of us yet to get out, had no idea as to whether the elevator was headed up or down (to the basement), as one of us could of stayed in it and continued on the elevator's intended journey. Maybe I am missing something, but I have taken elevators to work everyday for years in some big city locations, and I have never seen this orchestrated public rudeness around elevators before. Never mind the infrequent flakes that skip into the elevator as the door is closing on them with impeccable timing, contacting the rubber on each side of the door without it being triggered to re-open.

Other elevator follies today was a duffer placed in front of the door as it opened, asking me in sign language by pointing his finger down, as to whether that was the next direction it was to headed. How in the fuck am I supposed to know when that fact is readable from the elevator button lights (when they haven't been fucked with, which they weren't).

The first mentioned elevator rushing stunt was also augmented with a move-in scenario; furniture outside and in the lobby; more "wood stalking" as I see it. Earlier this week, when coming back from a ride in the yellow crew bus from farm work, they had the lobby filled with furniture, and the only route to the stairway, in lieu of riding the elevator with them, was taken by a reddish haired woman standing as part of the seeming moving party. I asked her if I could get through and she was fine with that, and it was no problem to slip through this narrow passage to take the six flights of stairs. Obviously it was some kind of constriction with a known quantity, a gangstalker who had been in place for who knows how long, over top of that very spot I was to pass through. A decidedly more calculated test it would seem. And when in the stairway, lo, if the dim lit area with the sticky floor and newspapers stuck to it of six weeks ago was't still there. Some kind of "walking on newspapers glued with red stain to a grey concrete painted floor" test. A likely elaboration and calibration with the prior "walking over the location of where a red haired woman was standing" test. All too clever.

A second siren cascade has just erupted as I add to the above paragraph, and begin this. The above elevator stunt occured on my way out to yoga, the first class in three weeks. These resumptions of routines after a hiatus are prime gangstalking moments, and the freakshow that circulates around me was out in abundance. And too, the vehicular gangstalking; "my" most frequent regular gangstalking vehicle, the Coca Cola delivery truck in red and white with unpainted aluminum surfaces was outside, adjacent to the exit to this apartment building, parked to make a "delivery" at the convenience store. I cannot count the number of bogus street parking arrangements I have seen this particular vehicle participating, but it is nothing but persistent. And as the perps have reminded me about this vehicle, think of all that brown colored liquid inside bottles and cans, behind the red, white and metallic finished livery of the vehicle. Need I add that t he perps are constantly putting reds in front of browns, vice versa and all manner of combinations and permutations of fabric, color variants, skin tone of the wearer (gangstalker), and then with vehicles as well.

Then onto yoga, and even with being five minutes early I was the last one to arrive, and the new instructor had arranged herself to be in my old spot. And to no surprise, she was backlit by the stained glass windows, this being a chapel. For the session her face and skin wasn't well lit, and I am sure there was some subtle extra plasmic fuckery going on as well, as the perps have been messing with so many of my online and reallife situations to ensure certain skintones and gangstalkers are presented in dim or backlit situations. (And some obvious plasma beams around her at the beginning of the class). I suspect this is to impair my cognitive ability to take in the person's look in one glance, or perhaps, to de-emphasize the person's features momentarily.

But that didn't stop me from admiring her exquisite form and sensual elegance; she is a dancer, and is about 5'9", about 30 or so, and has not a stitch of extra weight on her. And no tattoos, something the perps have been chasing me with for the past three weeks, and I get some relief thankfully. And also, she is taking us back to Ashtenga yoga, one that is more active and challenging. I lamented in this blog about the past instructor taking us on a Pranayama (breathing) focus as I wanted more activity, and less talking about my breathing for chrissakes.

Well anyway, she is a bright light when all around is dark (or dimmed down), to quote from Monty Python. And it is once per week, and it seems that this will be a regular Thursday session for the forseeable future.

And I swear I saw someone very much like the above yoga instructor when I was walking back from gym today, earlier than usual as I will explain below. I had just crossed the street of one way traffic at the crosswalk, and a woman of the same height, build, comportment and age was walking toward me after I turned 90 degrees to head to the sidewalk after the crosswalk at this Y junction of a two-way street splitting into two one way streets in opposite directions. She was wearing black and under a black umbrella, and again, her face was in a dim light, and it wasn't the same as the above yoga instructor. And in true gangstalker style, she was making some kind of mouth movements, her tongue licking her lips at the moment I looked at her, and she looked at me at the same time. It was all over in less than a second, and I would not count this as staring in any way. It was an odd place for a person to be walking at that time of day, about 1545h, as most downtown commuters take the bus to head the suburbs, where this location was in-between, in an neighborhood of apartments and condos. I would not be surprised if she was a morph-over of the yoga instructor, and I have no idea who the person was. The perps like to plant the notion that it is a morph-over at the moment of seeing the person, but in this netherworld that I live in, nothing is what it seems.

And I finally had it with the gym class, and it may have been my last one. I mentioned in past blogs how this class was an hour long, the first 30 a free-format on the gym equipment, and the latter in a floor exercise room altogether. Then about two months ago they changed it such that selected classmembers were to spend the last 30 minutes doing exercises by themselves in the public area for warming up or down. This worked for a time as the number of individuals (read, gangstalkers) coursing around me was relatively few. Then today, two days before a long weekend in the summer, the put on plenty of extra gangstalkers, one component being The Men In Red Shirts, of increasing prevelance of late. There were five of them, all seemingly independent, as well as another six or so who were also working out. To make a long story short, I hate working out as if I am in a railway station or other busy public concourse. And I reckon the perps had this denouement long arranged, as the seed of not tolerating this new arrangement was planted from the begining.
denouement –noun
1.the final resolution of the intricacies of a plot, as of a drama or novel.
2.the place in the plot at which this occurs.
3.the outcome or resolution of a doubtful series of occurrences.
There were some other oddities going on in the above circumstances, like the red fleece coated male who came to sit there, and then departed while I was changing to leave, only to re-appear downstairs in the lobby area when I was on my way out. In other words, this weird, came to loiter around me in the public workout area and then departed to loiter around me when I had my coat on and was leaving.

Prior to the above, I was also being deliberately followed by dudes from one piece of equipment to the other; from mid-building to the glassed perimeter, and then another pair tag teamed me on the equipment. The entire gym class gangstalking has been getting more odious and brazen. Though I am not sure if the perps are done with me yet at that venue, as they had the gym built just for me as I read the timing of events. I started working out in public gyms since about 1994, and in the prior years to BOH, Before Overt Harassment (04-15-2002). This seems to be a preferred activity to aid the perps' objectives of remotely applied nonconsensual experimentation and study. And since the OB Rec. Center had a big re-build in 2003-4 to create a new gym wing attatched to the extant swimming pool when the assholes forced me back to Victoria, I am sure they are not done yet. But then again, the perps installed a 80' cell phone tower, (read, electromagnetic and other energies) close to my regular hiking route just for my last day of hiking when I had my vehicle. So who knows; spreading cash around isn't a problem. That they plan all this out years in advance is undeniable.

I did explain in a later phone call to the gym class coordinator's voice mail that I was not going to continue with the latter half public area workouts. Anyhow, this maybe the end of gym class, or perhaps there will be some kind of rearrangements to come. And no one ever told me as to why I was selected for this "transition group", or what that term really meant. And to add to the nonsense, at least one of the more ridiculous gangstalkers at the gym, the woman in a red sweater and red shoes in street clothing, just "happened" to be at the LD store when I stopped there on my return. But not in red this time, but in a puke brown outfit. Hilarious, as it is improbable.

It is bottle bashing time in the hallway; I don't know what the perp interest is exactly, but I was reading blog postings at the time, one about Arnold Schwartzneger's recent governmental stunts, none of which I have read about in the news. As always, my view of the world is highly sculpted along several parameter themes, and being kept clueless is one of them. I also call this FUD fucked, (Fear, Uncertainty and Doubt). I would give you the link, but my Windows cut and paste functionality is getting messed with, along with the Firefox right click command of copy link location. Try here, and go to the Schwartzneger posting. Its one of those blog postings that is plain confusing with a needed prerequisite of "you had to be there" to comprehend the entirety of it.

Another siren show while the earmuffs were on, "heard" through them no less, and my cue to take them off. This is at least the fourth siren cascade today. When walking to the gym earlier they put on two ambulances about three minutes apart, travelling in opposite directions when I was near the hospital. Totally ludicrous.

More fake insect creepy crawly sensations, this time on my right ear and earlobe. After the earlobe freak described in yesterday's blog posting, it makes me wonder if the perps aren't up to some kind of remote detection games that are focussed on earlobes. Dangling earings and studs in the earlobes just might be more useful to them in some way, much how they like to have metal studded garments on me (Levi jeans) or in my proximity (e.g. studded leather handbags). My daughter had a earstud backing that "somehow" got sucked into her earlobe and had to have it surgically removed. They found it there with an X-ray, and for some reason, my then wife wanted me to see the X-ray print that was borrowed from the doctor. I might of been out of town at the time it happened, and I didn't know about it until it was all over. This vignette has more questions than answers in light of what has followed since, that being the harassment onset and my ex's involvement from the get-go.

And another motorcycle noise tonight, as if the biker's bar had opened up a block away when there isn't one for at least five miles. Its not that kind of town, or at least, until the perps decided that total (unpleasant) noise management of my environs was to be applied. Translate the term "management" in this context to mean constant provision of vexing noises in both volume and frequency above any level of expectable normality or plausibility. And of note, the streets are still wet from the rain they brought on after my early departure from gym today. It is not an evening for a real biker to be out, though the perps did once set up a daytime motorcyclist in the rain, gingerly making a corner, to tell me in their bizarre demonstrative and covert way that there really are motorcyclists out in such inclement weather conditions. More bullshit.

The perps let me in on the fact that they do extensive gangstalking, or more accurately, post-event populating, of my walking and vehicle activities and routes. I only get to see the oncoming ambulatory gangstalkers in passing, but there is a good chance they follow my route from both directions for at least an hour or more afterward. The above speculation that my yoga instructor was in a facial-only morph-over may have been for much more than a few seconds of sight and eye-contact time; she may have been dispatched to take my walking route for some distance afterward. I know my vehicle path is extensively followed for a long time afterward with a long train of vehicles in varying configurations and formations based on vehicle color and type.

That I "figured this out" now, the above pondering of what the perps do after I pass by, now six years after BOH suggests this "realization" is entirely planted, and was likely even blocked from any kind of analytical consideration all this time. They never gave me the opportunity to think through all the research angles of the harassment that would make sense from their perspective. More FUD fucking. And more overhead concrete floor pounding as I re-read this.

It was the post-outing rain that came on that prompted this "speculation" that the perps were attempting to get a better remote read on my bioenergetics interactions with the concrete and asphalt of the sidewalks and road surfaces when I walked back from the gym. That they like to change up the weather, usually to bring on rain, after concluding an activity hasn't gone unnoticed. Hopefully I have conveyed these in past blog postings, or more like, long past postings as there has only been wet July weather this week only. Which suggests more of a wet summer if their current games persist. Noting that brought on more outside motorcycle noise, and as always, likely faked by some means of remotely projecting sounds to another location, something they have long done, but not always effectively. Until about 2005 I could tell that many of these projected noises were fake as they had a metallic ringing harmonic with them. Since then, they were able to defeat my noise authentication abilities, and that small realtime detection capability was forever lost.

Time to call this one done for the day; I have made many corrections and alterations to the above, replete with plenty of situational noisestalking. (Especially when I break a long paragraph into two, or insert a sentance by first dropping the latter portions to a new line temporarily to remove the visual clutter.) It is payday at the farm tomorrow, at the end of the day of course, and from the chat I have been meant to overhear, it is a very looney time. No end of weirds come out othe woodwork to pick up their pay, or at least to complain. It will be interesting, and too, that they did not arrange this the first payday, but had me miss it and get the check the next week.

Wednesday, July 30, 2008

Daffodil Bulb Sorting

I got to stand in one place, on concrete, for most of the day, sorting out daffodil bulbs. These have been picked in the field, transported to the warehouse and then washed and reboxed for a first sort before grading. These bulbs were flipping past quickly as I was the first sorter, the others being four women on the next (and slower) conveyor belt.

There were all manner of perp arrangements, the most significant was that the conveyor belt was brown colored with plenty of white bird shit spots on it. Sound familiar?

I got all kinds of noise stalking as I read this blog posting on Amy Alkon's site. It is outrageous what Bank of America did, wilfully handing out her money to fraudulent parties that look nothing like her. And to note, as I once banked at Bank of America when I lived in Seattle 1999 to 2002, the bank takes a photo of you and puts it on your bank card. In this case, it wouldn't of helped at the thieves didn't have a fake bank card, but used a bad fake of her driver's licence.

The perps have a ceaseless interest in noisestalking me anytime I read these kind of stories, and it does make me wonder why there is so much identity theft and identity data "mistakes" in making a rash of identities publically availible. I cannot rightfully suggest why the perps might be interested in these kinds of events, but their prevalence must be orchestrated to some extent. They routinely noisestalk me, and augment with other phenomenon such as plasma and maser beams whenever I log into my PC or email (using my ID, and no secret to them). It is all rather odd in a life where there are no coincidences whatsoever, as my life is totally scripted for me, right down to blinks and glances.

And the noise started up again as I finished the above paragraph; was it the act of concluding the paragraph or was it the contents, likely fed by them to me to write.

And too, Petite Anglaise got tagged with fraudulent use of her ID here. Two blogs I check daily get their personal bank accounts plundered with fake ID artists within a month of each other. Coincidence? Possibly. Then, if you concur that nothing in my life is a coincidence as it is highly managed down to every last dust bunny and lint ball, then there must be a perp objective behind this, though beyond the general statement of "psychic research", I don't really know any fact supported reason.

Enough of these unprovable ponderable associations, no matter how much "phenomenon stalking" erupts as I read the blog postings of the unfortuneate authors.

There were a number of perp scripted games today while sling daffodil bulbs, and each time I attempt to recount them, I have a demotivated spell. That might be dynamically applied censoring perhaps, directly to the mind of the blogger in this case.

There was the red earplug event, whereby the conveyor belt started to make a lot of noise, and we were all offered red earplugs to deal with the noise. Then two dudes in red shirts fussed with the belt and pretended to adjust it while it was running. (And note, they were not wearing any kind of company supplied uniform/shirts; theoretically, the two dudes each made an independent decision to wear the same red colored shirt today). And as I wrote the word "dudes", the perps shutdown the blogger and put up the Windows default wallpaper, not even bothering to force me to make key blunders as the cover story.

So, the red earplug event didn't last too long, and I didn't need them for more than 10 minutes. What was clear was that they were testing this color out on me and at least four women in my proximity, and were attempting to detect some kind of energetic difference. One of the women is a negro, and is friendly to talk to, as we have a bit each working day of last week or so. She now wears a red kerchief under her black ballcap, possibly in support of the perps quest in convertly studying the energetics of clothing color. Another woman of the four was wearing the red bandana over her face last week when it was hot, and only a little dusty. It is all very curious as to the perp's conumdrums over their problems related to the color red, vis a vis me. Like I have said many times, if I don't like the color red, and even if I don't know how this came about, why do I have a legion of louts chasing me all over the world in an attempt to bring on incremental exposure to this color in infinite combinations and permutations with materials/substances?

As always, there will be no answer from an outfit that spends 54 years of surveilling and neurally damaging someone while engaged in unauthorized nonconsensual human experimentation, from birth, or even before. And it seems that their excesses of my "lost years", ages 3 to 5, left subconscious recollections that they could not erase, and seem to want to.That is bad enough, but why are they so intent on determining the neural correlates of my predispositions and preferences? Some days, I don't want to know, and it would seem that the assholes won't let me contemplate this for long either. My thoughts on this topic get re-directed in short order. And while typing that, I got at least four stings in my right foot, now five, and I don't know how these are applied as I cannot see any physical traces of their usual tools, masers and plasma beams. I must get at least 50 foot stings a day, always at selected moments when unbidden thoughts occur, or else my acceptance or rejection of their planted thoughts.

I had the usual 3,000 to 5,000 vehicle gangstalking cavalcade around the crew bus when inbound after the day's work. The perps also brought out the operative with this stretched ear lobe which has a 2" diameter black plastic disc inserted into it for the bus ride home. The dude didn't come for work as it "so happened", he came to gangstalk me at the crew marshalling area at the end of work and then again on the bus, the closest person to me. For all of the trip inbound his ear and this embedded plastic disc wiggled with the bus' motion, and no doubt that was of huge interest to the perps. Givent the perp's intense interest in placing plastics of many kinds around me nearly all the time, I can only assume that this fugly freakish earlobe modification to insert a 2" plastic disc in it was part of the plan to do more research of ones's body energetics interactions with plastics. Not my problem, so why do I have such freaks and clowns around me all the time, strutting their plastic?
Every day I go out for more than 30 minutes I see at least four vans or trucks packing PVC pipe on the roof rack. Yesterday at the farm field, they put on a red pickup truck to cruise by as the crew was walking toward the road with a single black ABS pipe projecting from the tailgate to the cab roof. And to complete the scenario, the farm fields are full of plastic scraps and litter of varying kinds and colors, and are routinely dug up in the course of daffodil bulb picking.

Tuesday, July 29, 2008

More Yellow, Now on Tuesday

I did my day of toil on the farm fields, this time in partial rain conditions. The big perp event was for me to have my yellow rain pants and jacket in use. The rain started just before 0630h when I went to the bus pickup area, and so I wore my yellow rain coat and had my black hiking pants on with a blue fleece pullover underneath, and a blue Capeline undershirt under the fleece. Blued underneath my yellow rain jacket. And so this meant holding the bus up so I was hanging out in the rain for 25 minutes instead of 10 minutes had it been on time. And these are golden gangstalk moments, having me wear loud yellow colors in public, hence the high degree of the Unfavored ambulatory gangstalkers passing by with a background of vehicular gangstalking, mainly color and model type coordinated vehicles. I even got a skinhead in a suit no less, walking past me in the rain without benefit of an umbrella. And there were plenty of cotton fabric hoodie acts as well, and no rainproofness in that kind of garment. And even a guitarstalking for chrissakes at 0645h with a soft fabric backpack guitar case. Totally stupid in wet conditions.

Just as I was about to leave, the bus did arrive, and lo, if it wasn't the yellow school bus that they put on during the daytime, but not for morning pickup. There was the usual bidirectional cavalcade of gangstalking vehicles on the highway, some 3,000 or more. The same on the way back, and this time they slowed down the reverse commute traffic so we could slowly troll by a gasoline tanker trailer, without the tractor unit. The later was some 200' down the road, reversed in direction and hoisted by a large tow truck. This seemed to be a separation of the fuel in the tanker trailer from that in the tractor unit's fuel tanks, and reversing the direction of the tractor unit fits with all the games that go on about Left Hand drive vehicles that gangstalk me all the time, as well as the odd event of a shill reversing in traffic. Regular readers will know that the perps are obsessed over presenting petroleum products in my proximity, and this would only be yet another example. And lo, if they didn't have another fuel delivery truck pull up beside the crew bus some 10 minutes after the first tractor trailer tanker "display" they put on.

I had my first street theater event in some four years of harassment. It was a blonde standing stock still (stalk still in fact) in mid block of my walk from the bus drop-off this afternoon. She was standing at the entrance to a car lot on the other side of the sidewalk, and appeared to have no apparent purpose, except to act like a frozen mime. She was in matching white jacket and pants that has a swoopy red swatch through them, mainly under the arms and side of the pants. Bizarre, but not the stupidest act I have encountered.

The lastmost faux mime act (aka street theater) was a male 60 y.o. fart who did a frozen lunge position in the grocery store I frequented, and adopted this absurd stance in the middle of the store the instant my fingers touched the chocolate I was about to place in my shopping basket. He held this for at least 30 seconds or more, putting on this faux mime act which ensured maximum exposure to the inside of his legs and arms. Months later I saw this same fucker doing a back and forth gangstalk outside my vehicle, turning 180 degrees when he got within 20' and when I spotted this bullshit act.

And as it "so happened" the very first job of the day was to pull weeds in the greenhouses, which meant that I did not need to wear my yellow raincoat. And judging by the number of "coworkers" coursing in close to me, sometimes just to wander back again, there seemed to be a perp "need" to gangstalk me without the coat after wearing it for an hour or so, 25 min. worth outside in the rain (per above). And lo, if the overhead white plastic shading didn't retract at some point while working the greenhouse, and also, the windows all opened to ventilate. Boundless fun for sick minds, gangstalking someone because they wore yellow in response to engineered weather fuckery that also played out later when doing fieldwork picking up daffodil bulbs.

While I had my blue fleece jacket on, there was one native Indian dude who had his yellow rain jacket on and made sure to loiter in my immediate proximity for the two hours we were respectively clothed. Then during the afternoon break the rain came on and I wore the yellow rain jacket. The Indian dude however, took his off and wore a turquoise T-shirt, again loitering by me more than he really needed to. It would seem that this was a case of alternately testing out yellow garment color on each other, and with the added component of his brown skin. The perps dicked with the rain all day, such that it didn't really matter if one wore raingair or not, as one didn't get too wet without it. It seemed that no one else put on raingear, so they must of known what the weather conditions were going to be.

I just finished an evening shopping at the grocery store. For some reason they had pulled out many of the displays, as if "spring cleaning" in July. No doubt this was for obstructing and creating more and new energetic interactions as I flitted around the store, gangstalked at every turn. And I had at least three yellow vehicles "on the job" for the entire 180' to the grocery store, as well at least four ambulatory gangstalkers wearing yellow or lime green. The usual; a cyclist is ahead of me, then stops outside the store entrance to secure their bicycle while I head in, and then at least two gangstalking passbys while in the store, and again at the checkout. It is so fucking predictable.

And no doubt the assholes has planned this one for months; they jerked me around with forced "forgets" in acquiring more dish detergent until I had run out after dinner. Therefore, the new tea I bought tonight (because they had me buy something I didn't like last week) had the teapot cleaned with the detergent I bought tonight. This kind of coordination is of immense interest to the perps, and I am sure there are many more "synchronicities" that they won't let me in on. The garbage was also put out while tea making, it containing the spent dish detergent bottle, and lo, if the assholes didn't have the garbage chute plugged so that it may stay on this floor for a while yet. Another example of a "synchronicity" arranged over my garbage, always of intense perp interest.

As I read the word "satellite" I got a big overhead pounding noise last night, and there has been many mentions of this word of late, not least of which is the daffodil bulb picking crew. It is an unabashed perp theme show all the right topics that "happen" to be hot right now, as well as the regulars of Pondering the Perps Objectives.

And I see one of my fingers is "stained" yellow, a "result" from wearing the gloves in the wet today. This is a portable color reference over my skin and fingernail that the perps seem to need, not unlike the brown toenail pictured in a past posting.

Time to call this one done, even if all the zany events today aren't detailed.

Monday, July 28, 2008

Another Yellow Monday

A Monday off from farm labor toil, and I am glad for it. The perps keep me frrazzled by the end of a workday, and two workdays in succession is the maximum so far. No doubt there is plenty of other testing and activity in my absence, not to mention rehearsals, though less so now that they have me controlled down to every thought, save the odd perjorative characterizing aspersion I apply to fuckwits and other blatant theater.

Monday is the day for not taking my yellow colored medication, the day that I "forget" to do so, waking up at my parents place and never taking the medication with me, nor taking it when I get back around noontime.

And so, it was a day for borrowing yellow color rain gear at my parent's place. This is because the farm work might take place in the rain tomorrow, as forecast. And so, my mother "happened" to save a number of outside rain clothes, most of them yellow colored, offering them to me to take along in case daffodil bulb picking got mucky. With my backpack with the two differing yellow garments packed inside, I was highly desireable "yellow bait". And conveniently, my mother needed to go swimming later, so I took the bus after driving her to a nearby shopping plaza where there was more choice in buses.

And the Municipality of Saanich put on a special event for me, running the street sweeper ahead of the bus as it cruised into the bus stop. Have I mentioned how often the street sweepers come out to accompany me, or immediately precede me on my outings onto the streets? At least 10x I suspect.

I got the usual freakshow at the bus stop, and then onboard I got more, and yet more as the bus proceeded into downtown. It was standing room only after a few stops, and that made for more of them to cluster around me and limit my vision, save the odd space to see the freak woman in pink hair. I had the "three amigos" treatment again; three males closely lined up together, this time transverse to the bus direction. Two in one seat, and one in the other, bookended by an Asian male that didn't partake in this faux bonhomie chat. As always, although none of them obese thankfully, they did their long observed routine of sitting half in the seat, and half in the aisle, encroaching on the aisle width from both sides. I cannot get over the number of working age males that "happen" to be out of work on weekdays. Bring on more vagrants, at least they have a cover story. I got plenty of time to look at the floor of the bus and noted that the colors seemed to complement the current perp games of spattering white on black, just like these ersatz birdshit spatter games on the streets.

I was seated in the side seat over the rear wheels where the perps like to keep me, going back decades. There was one seat availible next to me, and the gangstalking males stayed standing instead, likely to block me off from seeing much, what they do all the time with their bus driver "chatty" stalkers. Anyhow, this terse looking brown skinned Asian woman in a brown coat "somehow" knew that this seat was availible and sat beside me for the remainder of the trip, some 10 minutes worth. This is a "brown on brown" gangstalking timed to be later in the bus trip after a suitable "warm up", and suggests the perps are getting into more complex color/substance combinations, that of skin tone and clothing color. It always amazes me how someone could "find" this seat free when there was no way she could see past my gangstalking bodyguard.

But I am used to this, amazing feats of individuals, operatives in fact, who "happen" to sit next to me by finding the last seat in a dark cinema, just before the show begins. It was my landlady upstairs in those days of 2003 to 2004, and I had my daughter sitting to my right, and there was one seat availible to my left, and lo, if she didn't "happen" to be there and "find" a vacant seat next to me. Fucking unbelievable, and just one of many improbabilities that the assholes had pulled on me by then. Even the doctor was blowing me off when I brought all these to his attention to support my claim of being gangstalked. Two years later, he "relented" on our last appointment, and said I was being persecuted. And of course I wasn't allowed to ask him if the entire two visit six month total hospitalization stunt wasn't a fucking mistake and how did he feel about that. No sir, he got off scot free so to speak, as he was from the Faroe Islands, far north of Scotland.

And if you want an update on how things are going, read my reply to the following email;

--- In, ewraven1@... wrote:
Just so others can compare notes and see if any of these recent (2008) repeating perp tricks are familiar:

> Turning my pillow case inside out while I'm out.
My "pillow" is a collection of foam blocks assembled to get my head a good distance up away from the bed. This is because an ordinary low/soft pillow puts too much weight on the shoulder and upper arm against the mattress, resulting in frequent blood flow starvation to that arm. A high, somewhat stiffer pillow is one recommended way to help this condition.

Each time I change the pillow case, which is a bit of a struggle as those foam blocks have to be forced in, and in the right order, a day or two later it has been turned inside out. The perps have to go to considerable trouble to do this.

> Flipping water out of my 1-quart water cup inside the fridge

I keep my drinking water in a 1 liter (~quart) cup inside my fridge, as I like drinking cooler water than that which comes out of the tap. I always keep the level at least 3/4" below the rim, and it's often more than that. I've been doing this for more than a decade now.

I always put the cup into the fridge and remove it carefully, and I do note the condition of the top of the vegetable keeper at the bottom of the fridge. I do not slop water when I put the cup in or take it out.

Yet recently, 2 or 3 times a day, when I open the fridge later on, I find several tablespoons of water splashed on top of the veggie keeper surface, and some below that, inside the door frame.

This happens repeatedly. There has been no earthquake, and I have not bumped the fridge meantime. This is recent, and repetitive.

> This happens when I am home. Each time I stir my hot beans and rice, slowly, I hear a 'blurp' sound and a blob pops up and hits my fingers, painfully burning them.

I've been stirring beans and rice for years, and I do not spin it fast - there is no reason to do so. But quite recently, I get this blob of hot B&R on the back of my hand each time I stir now.

(This is reminiscent of when I moved into an apt with very sharp kitchen cabinet doors. Every time I made a move to get something out of a cabinet, my arm would always get shoved into the sharp corners of the open doors.

When I took a file and rounded off every sharp corner, the arm shoving stopped and my arms never once contacted the cabinet doors after that.)

Anyone else?

Eleanor White
Says me, and no doubt I will be pilloried for some slight, my usual fate on online forums;
I get plenty of water slopping and "leaks" from firmly tightened upright water bottles. The properties of water in relation to the immediate surroundings is of intense perp interest. Today while on the city bus I had a water bottle in a backpack 1' from me from a backpacking shill standing up in the aisle when there were seats availible. I have seen fire hydrant "blowouts", municipal water tank leaks, and other spectacular kinds of water escapes as well. I will refrain from commenting on the increased street sweeping in my proximity and the unusual timing of rainfall.

My bedding had to be tossed out owing to a insect invasion, and the pillows has a yellow stain on them that went through the pillow cases and onto the sheets. I haven't had bedding reversed on me that I was aware of.

Related to this, there is an increasing perp "need" of late on studying garments on their subjects, us TI's being the most aware of this of course. Their activities relate to fabric type, fabric colors, degree of garment coverage, and even appurtenances like bag straps and even seat belts. Some of the coworkers on this farm labor job I am doing have taken to wearing bandanas over their faces for no seeming reason. The perps further this with a strong interest in the cleaning of my eyeglasses with a microfiber cloth, and will arrange the warp and weft in varying orientations in combination with the two sides of each lens. My parents, who are plainly perp abetting shills, will "forgetfully" put some garments on inside out for my benefit when visiting. Anyone notice how many shills are taking off or putting on garments in proximity to TI's?

The perps have intensified the fake touches of late; I usually get over a hundred a day on my lower arms and wrist, as if it were fabric from my shirt when it is not (shirt sleeves are rolled up, or short sleeve shirt). I routinely get at least 20 nipple jabs in a day (I am male, and do not have an oversized chest). And fingertip jabbing too; every plastic bag or square cornered box that I touch, nearly always jabs me in the fingertips upon grasping. My knowledge of these feints is routinely dithered so I am not allowed to recall these jerkarounds in advance to practice "safe functioning".

I don't do much pot cooking, but I can imagine this too is a good excuse to apply some extra finger sensations, burning being another example. Now that blueberry season has started, you wouldn't believe how extra-conventionally kinetic the berries have become, rolling about in the bowl without any applied force, and even wiggling in place. This "blueberry english" has escalated from two years ago when I last had them, mysteriously not in the produce section last year.

Anyhow, you get the idea; constant and unrelenting abuse by remotely applied means, now elevated to be more intrusive and annoying.
The tapping noise has begun while reading Dooce, and I have no idea why certain blogs get more noisestalking than others. When I hear tales of many things going wrong, and especially if they are consistent with things that "happen" to me, it does make me wonder if the perps are surveilling others without their knowledge. Another unprovable to ponder, and the perps like me to do so when my reaction would be that if I cannot possibly know, then why bother "thinking" (read, planted notions) about it? But it seems, I do not have the cognitive freedom to dismiss certain extraneous thoughts that remain oddly persistent.

I had my always-on-Monday shit earlier, and the perps outdid themselves by having the toilet resist plunging, and then flood over the bowl while yet more water was flooding in from the cistern. Translated, 1/2" of standing water in the small bathroom, and four towels later, it was all mopped up. Another "special laundry" moment, a near daily experience for the last two weeks now for various reasons, one being the farm labor work in th fields of daffodil bulbs.

And so, when it came time to retrieve the towels from the dryer, I had my very own male gangstalking troll who filled a number of the Unfavored demographic classes; hunched, bald, male, enfeebled and chinless. And never mind the bullshit loitering act which pisses me off. I was entering the laundry room as he "happened" to be exiting, and he mumbled something as the washing machine had just started up, and I said I was going to the dryer. He then follows me back into the laundry room and stands around while I extract my towels. Then he stayed in the room while I exited. I have had cell phoners outside the room upon exit, the odd other "tenant", but never had someone so blantantly loitering after changing their intent from exiting to staying around for no apparent purpose. Fucking bizarre to say the least.

My father was doing the bullshit gangstalking act last night while watching TV; standing up for no apparent reason, and staying in sentry position. I just about screamed at him. This Alzheimer's act of his has taken an interesting turn; he now babbles with the right emotional tone and interjects at the precise moment while my mother and I are talking. He did not exhibit this level of sophistication in making nonsensical vocalizations before, so how did he attain this "improvement" in the two weeks since I was last there? Like I say, he is the perp's big sleeper; the certifiable fuckwit act doing their bidding in making unusual statements and juxtapositions of objects, clothing, all household cleaners and foods all under the cover of Alzheimers. And he is the scapegoat for a number of things going missing in their household. Fucking bullshit I say.

But does anyone have a useful retort for family gangstalkers or the above laundry room gangstalk troll blatantly doing perverse (in normal behavioral terms) stunts such as standing around for no fucking reason?

I am troving through some saved links intended for later review. It appears that Myspace is getting hacked such that the search box isn't getting displayed, and hence, I cannot search for a particular artist. Just another stunt that may pass in a few weeks. The perps do not want me to go to tonight; they just blank it out so nothing but the page header displays. Fucking outrageous.

I "happened" to read in today's local newspaper that some local farms are bringing in fly-in Mexicans for the harvest season, though they must pay at least the local minimum wage. No wetbacks here; charter flight service no less.

I am going to call this one done for the day, and make sure it is posted instead of being flooded (read, by remotely applied means) with FUD (Fear, Uncertainty, Doubt) until I get back from slaving in the muddy fields tomorrow. It will be interesting to say the least, all dressed in yellow rain gear and raking daffodil bulbs.

Sunday, July 27, 2008

Wild Plumbing Noise

As if the ongoing faux neighbor water use noise of water movement in the pipes wasn't enough, I have just had my first instance of groaning and vibrating pipes at this post mealtime juncture, always a high harassment moment. The expectation is that this will become a new member in the noise repetoire of the many hundreds that I currently get as "background" noise. Regular readers will know that I strongly suspect there are very few legitimate residents in this 140 unit building, so who could it be making all this noise?

It is the projected noise capabilities of course, of which I am subject to all day long. Just about all my actions somehow make extra noise, especially if it involves a ringing sound from crockery, glassware or metals.

So far, a double laundry day today, with yesterday's grimy farm work clothing getting dealt with first, and then a towel load. The latter because the new towels have been linting and pilling which does not come off in the washing machine or the dryer. And if the perps need to add new lint onto my clothes, they do it unilaterally, without cover story. Its just that the towels are used as the excuse to spread large quantities of lint onto other clothes. Which is not unlike the numerous invasions of faux birdshit rashes on the sidewalks and streets, especially at intersections, and nearly always without any overhead wire where birds might congregate. Yet another cover story is dispensed with, as the perps need much more of these white splatters around me, lint being the indoor equivalent.

Given the perp's abiding interest in my laundry, I am sure they like it very much that one laundry load immediately follows another, neither being a full load, and both because of specialty considerations; get the farm labor clothes ready for the next day, and a linting towel load to prevent further lint "explosions" on other clothes. It is fucking absurd to be doing so much laundry.

The big question is whether to get new towels, or take these ones back. I am sure the latter option is of significant interest to the perps, as they very like much like to arrange many reprise scenarios (and gangstalkers) as possible. My brother runs a commercial laundry among other businesses, and would be returning laundry all the time; so what is the perp's juvenile fascination with my laundry, including exotic never-before fabric behavior?

I had a 10 hour sleep last night, with no awakenings to hear vapid dude talk like the night before. This time they imposed some strange dreams on me that I was not allowed to bail out of. My normal response to strange dreams is to wake up and get out of them, but now, that isn't allowed, and the perps continue to keep me in these imposed dream state conditions. It is horrifying as to what they can do to one when sleeping.

And one game they have been playing assiduously of late is arranging erections for seeming hours in the night. I won't got into it, but is the only time this happens, and one has to wonder what it is that they are up to?

Next day, 07-28-2008
I spent the evening at my parent's place wondering if this got posted or not. I got a ride with no advance notice and wasn't allowed to recall what I did. Just another FUD (Fear, Uncertainty, Doubt) jerkaround it would seem.

Saturday, July 26, 2008

Blogone Late Today

Another day of toil in the daffodil fields today, picking the bulbs up and putting them in the boxes; at least 800' per row. Thankfully the regular foreman was there today. When I first started this morning the usual vexacious nutters weren't there, and I thought I would be less harassed and cranked up (read, made irritable by remote means). But at 0900h the Redshirt Freak arrives with an Indian woman in dayglo orange and fuschia. What a sight, with the first mentioned nutter buzzing around me, and making sure that I knew about it. Not only is he a vapid chatterer making no sense, but he has the fugliest dreadlock hair for a Caucasian. He wears a blood red colored shirt he takes off, puts on, and leaves unbuttoned, and circulates around me in varying states of shirtwear. In the crew bus he makes sure to hang around me, and lies flat on the seat. After lunch break, he was lying flat on the field, red shirt on. As I see it, his shirt color is one big red color energetics test, and he makes sure that it happens around me, or especially, when I am in the bus on a break.

Other crazy stuff is the quasi-military dude in a wide brimmed green bush hat, a matching green army shirt, and then has a green bandana to cover his face under his sunglasses. Totally absurd, as there isn't too much dust in any event. He too, circulated around me, making it obvious at one point, and then proceeded to kick up dust for me to breathe while he was walking past. Unbelievable; the dust-proofing fanatic intentionally kicks up dust for others to breathe.

This "bandana thing" has also another member, she wearing a red one over her face and under a wide brimmed white hat with sunglasses on. I assume this is yet more red color testing, not unlike the excessive hoodie acts that loiter in my proximity. This woman bulb picker seems to have the height and build of my daughter, though she speaks Portugese as her first language. Past experience has taught me that the perps can dynamically modify speech to have an accent or even another language if need be. As she seems to get "featured" as a gangstalker, it would seem that this person is indeed a morphover of someone I know well. I just don't know who, and I am sure that the perps enjoy making me guess, if not dropping the suggestion in the first place. And, it almost goes without saying, they like it very much when I am dead wrong.

And I noticed the foreman mentioned another dude by name, as this crew member's absence left a crew that was much quieter without his incessant chatter. This same dude picked up his paycheck at the office the same day I did last week, and has also "featured" himself too. The perps tell me this is my out-of-town brother, but again, who knows or cares; it is just another gangstalking and harassment abetting asshole as I see it. Or, I try to, as the perps have this guessing agenda for me to go through, but if left alone, I wouldn't bother to play this totally bullshit game of guessing who the morphover shill/operative is for real. I don't fucking care.

After a day of dealing with the nutters and bulb picking, and one less reprobate/nutter than weekdays (a Saturday today), I step off the bus at the usual downtown location, and besides the regular freaks, this reprobate bulb picker was "hanging around" in his red hoodie close to his face, (no hair showing). This is the guy that almost got canned last week, and who is dropped off and picked up by his foster parents esach working day, and seems to work only weekdays, and wasn't bulb picking today, and there he is downtown as a "greeting gangstalker" when I got off the bus. All I got was the stare-at-me fuck from him, not even the decency of "hello". It is more fucking unbelievable gangstalking as I see it, all to get the agitating reprobate some more "face time"; staring and loitering by name.

This won't be a detailed post today as I am still knackered (tired) after today's bulb picking, and don't have a whole lot of energy to deal with all the gory details of the harassment games. The perps fucked me out of taking water today, though they did "turn down" the weather, creating plenty of cooling cloud cover and a short spell of "fairy rain" that soaked my back for 20 minutes, and thankfully, without any wind that would of chilled me down. No one was prepared for rain today, and me especially.

Among the bulb picking crew there is a mysterious unwritten code as to who does what when, and it seems to involve selected "laborers"/wackos who get the specialized jobs elsewhere and not the grind of picking bulbs all day. And it is not like that they have senioirity, as two of these four dudes started later than I did, July 11. And when we get out of the bus, and are directed to get picking buckets for a walk through daffodil bulb pick after a churning by the plow, only me actually responds while everyone else stands there for some reason. And magically, they seem to get the buckets without having made any effort to walk the 20' to get them. It is most strange this unsaid command level that everyone else is plugged into, save me.

No more pictures today, the last upload is done. And severe typo sabotage; enough blogging for now.

One last picture as it "happens"; a view from my parent's place, looking down the street that is normally devoid of street parked vehicles, and here are 6 of 9 vehicles (plus flatbed truck on right side of the street) either a white or silver grey color. And there was even an additonal white vehicle that I cropped out. Taken 078-13-2008, 1441h. And by way of demonstration, their normally quiet street has now become a cyclist's throughfare for "some reason".

The above uploading, cutting and pasting and viewing of this one picture has got me at least three loud motorcycle moments, aka noisestaling with the most loathed noise of all (to me).

I am done for today, and will not be doing hard labor with the wackos; perhaps a more reflective blog will "arise" tomorrow, though I am getting plenty of perturbing detail deletions from my recall when ordinarily, pre-invasive remote recall access, this would not happen.

Friday, July 25, 2008

What Is My Favorite Color?

The title refers to the question the doctor asked me while I was being controlled to prattle on about harassment activities. Never did he challenge anything I said, which is par for the course, and as far as I knew, I argued my case "articulately". In fact, he went on to suggest that I write creatively, though I had to disabuse him of that notion as I failed miserably at that activity in highschool, the only mandated situation that I was forced me into creative writing. I have no concept of it, and now with buckets of time, I never attempt it. I simply cannot get my head around fictional character development, let alone creating scenarios of their interaction. Hopefully, all that convinced the doctor some more that I am not making up a single word about this ongoing harassment. Of course he did not make any such a connection, that paucity of creative writing equates to an unlikelihood of harassment concoction.

I also gave him my take on drawing and artwork; that I have more affinity for visual art more than any other creative endeavors, and yet have done nothing, again, while having untold hours to do so. The perps do not want me to be competent in any creative endeavor, and as far as I can tell, they work assiduously to ensure that I don't go too deep on any technical, vocational or avocational endeavor. Competence is not allowed, per harassment operating procedures.

The more interesting timing of events today was to have me eat a Chicken Run lunch at 1100h, then have a nap at 1230h to 1330h, just ahead of walking 30 minutes to the doctor's office. Needless to say, the perps were all over me when headed out the door, and I am sure all that time lying on top of my bed was a big event for them. And to some degree, it seems that the perps have me still asleep in some way, as I haven't felt totally awake since the nap, even after a 30 minute walk in each direction. This simulates the pre-overt harassment life (BOH, before 04-15-2002) when I had these days where it felt like I never woke up properly the entire day, yawning and stretching all too often with a kind of cognitive haze that set in on me. Only by engaging in vigorous swimming could I dispell these strange allways-tired experiences. And of course, I am not allowed to swim either these days, after swimming for over 14 years with organized Master Swim clubs.

For the uninitiated, the Chicken Run is the much gangstalked event where I go to purchase hot cooked chicken to have on hand for the following weeks as my main protein source for the tortillas I make up to eat. And part of the arrangement is when I bring the chicken home, I remove all the skin and fat that I can, eat a meal's worth off the bone, and put the remainder in the fridge for later use. Regular readers will know that the act of chopping up the cold cooked chicken meat is also noisestalked each time.

And today, the perps put on a special jerkaround, as they had only whole chickens out, no partial cuts. With the reduced dietary intake of one tortilla slice per meal, though no wieght loss, a half chicken will last three weeks. Hence, I will be tossing the meat down the garbage chute in a few weeks, which is probably the real plan. I noticed yesterday that the garbage chute room has many cardboard boxes in it, likely as a brown color reference, and the perps might keep that garbage there until I toss the meat out.

The doctor asked me about my sleep, and I told him it was good, perhaps even an hour extra a night for some reason. The notion of telling him that my napping habits "somehow" didn't cross my mind, possibly because that my mind isn't my own. The perps didn't want to open this one up and have him learn of yet another never-before behavior.

I told the doctor about the chocolate "habit" the assholes have planted on me and how it begets extra noisestalking as I place the brown substance in my mouth. I also added in some experiences of a week in 2002 when I couldn't stand the smell of it and didn't want to eat it at all, and how that radically changed to this current situation where it costs as much as all the rest of my food in a given month. And in being as neutral as he could be, he didn't tie in the chocolate "habit" with what I had conveyed to him about the gangstalking and the deployment of colors, especially brown as the last most introduced color usually, and in small progressive increments. In other words, I cannot get any professional to pull the story together; they won't go there, not even within a single consult. Naturally, each time I go to the doctor the session is like there is no prior history, he won't draw from past appointments to add any analytical observations or to augment what I have mentioned in the past. It is only me who is putting this all together, and it is a highly anomalous situation, where no one is aiding my cause among supposed clinical professionals, family or once-friends who get occasionally injected into the script. It seems like orchestrated behavior to me.

An ongoing parade of noise for the last two hours while reading online news. Typically these are long sound decay noises; buses, motorcycles and other loud mufflered vehicles noise trailing off into the distance. All fake, or projected noise of course; there is nowhere around here that a bus can travel at some 50 mph, which is what it sounds like with the final addition of the whine from the bus tires. And too, I get ongoing background noise from the street, as if next to a freeway for all the swishing noise and sustained noise levels.

The perps are continuing with the vision impairments tonight, and I am constantly blinking or moving my head to rid me of them.

It is picture time, as I am getting the forced tiredness in addition to vision assaults; it is "filler" time.

Taken 07-18-2008, 1708h. This is what "happens" at commute time; parking tractor units on the street, taking up two parking stalls. When you own the town, this is no problem.

Taken 07-20-2008, 1729h. This is the "Flake Force", sending fuckwits in pairs on skateboards down the street. This is not uncommon to have these skateboard using, or toting, individuals in excessive numbers in my proximity. Sometimes they will squat down, placing their ass closer to the road surface as this seems to be a distance critical parameter; ass height from earth's surface. Or should I say, brown shit contents, which is really what it is about given the relentless harassment games over excrement that I have related in these blog postings.

The skateboarding hoodie boy boy has an interesting color juxtaposition; the street wires crossing his lower leg ar rendered into a red color for some strange reason, unlike any other spatial justapositions with the wires.

Taken 07-21-2008, 1506h 33sec. All five of the vehicles at this intersection are silver-grey or white, two exceedingly common colors of vehicles that get arranged around me. Four are silver-grey and one is white colored, a highly anomalous event IMHO.

Taken 07-21-2008, 1506h 39sec. And six seconds later, why another silver-grey colored vehicle, this being one of the Smart Cars that are the "rage" (read, harassment dictated and supported acquisition) in this city. This photo shows more of the surrounding parked vehicles than above, and not all the additional vehicles depicted are silver-grey or white, only 2 of the 5 are, with a mid-grey vehicle added in.

And while shopping on the Chicken Run earlier I was allowed to troll through the produce section, but not without four gangstalkers on my ass, one weird in a long coat with a toque (this is a hot day in the summer), who reversed direction and led me over to the blueberries, and then the asshole touches two of the plastic cases with his hands before I was allowed to pick up my case. Both of the cases he seemingly pointlessly touched were adjacent to the case I picked up. Fucking strange to say the least, but nothing unusual in the daily fuckery that I experience. No doubt there were other operatives who followed up later and purchased more blueberries from the stack. And oddly, these were no-name blueberries; no label on them at all, though they are tasty.

I eat blueberries when fresh at least twice per day, and I don't stop until the last of the expensive ones have been acquired in mid-September. And it seems that the perps like me to have this habit, as it must aid their games in color testing me. But last year, they cut me off from nearly all fruit, and never let me near a blueberry. They tell me that the reverse spin of the fructose molecule was giving them problems, hence the fruit dietary constriction. So here we are in 2008, back at the fruit fucking games again. It remains to be seen as to how much they will let me have for summertime fruit consumption, as they might just stop it all together again. There is a predictability about the perp diet constraints that goes decades back on reflection.

I am being made to feel totally demotivated tonight, and reluctant to take on any hard labor tomorrow. This, after viewing my line of credit (negative balance) tonight, that should be sufficient reason to do time with the daffodil bulbs. Nothing is ever straightforward; I cannot be allowed to even like what I am doing and consider the value of what I am doing. More relentless oppressive mind-think, as dished out by my mind-keepers.

Thursday, July 24, 2008

Whacked Out

I put a second consecutive work day in today; and again, I am very tired from spending all day, apart from breaks, out in the sun picking up daffodil bulbs. I also had the extra-conventional gravitic harassment of having the bulbs pulled from my hand, as well as mind-fucks of having me put rocks in the basket instead of bulbs. Another "mistake" the assholes like to pull on me. Another is to manipulate a thrown daffodil bulb such that it bounces out of the basket and onto the ground, necessitating another bend-over move, as if I don't do this enough for the assholes.

And to add to the games, the perps arranged for all east and west bound floatplane aircraft to pass overhead of the farm, which also would of been over the Victoria Airport. These floatplanes fly a regular route from Victoria Harbor to Vancouver Harbor, and normally pass much more east to stay clear of the Victoria airport, and the Vancouver one for that matter. But ever since the daffodil bulb picking activity started, they have been re-routed to fly overhead and contribute to the ongoing background noise.

And it would seem, based on the elaborate headgear, the perps are having select brown skinned individuals wear a "turbahat", a combination of a turban and a ball cap. A rag of some kind is placed around the head and then the cap is put over it to look totally ridiculous. This was the designated head gear of the negro woman and the Punjabi male, on different crews. Anyhow, anything goes for headgear when doing farm work, as sun protection and cooling are needed. And the more brown skinned one is, the more exotic the headgear. And of course, they must spend time in my proximity during the working day, no surprise there.

There was the usual odd re-assignments at the start of the day; two newbies got sequestered onto other jobs, one being the weird who was prone to stare at me yesterday, no loss from my perspective. Another strange newbie also got pulled off for other duties. That left only one significant weird for the bulb picking crew for the entire day. There were a few lesser weirds, one dude changing out of his track clothes at the marshalling area into shorts, and then back into track pants by the time he got to the bulb picking field. How he did that I don't know, and he put on this nervous act all the time, even senselessly walking up and down the adjacent road, and then later working ahead of me in a walk-through pick, and a short time later going behind me. For some reason the foreman didn't ream his ass out, as this seeming unilateral behavior in normally under his scrutiny. I am also amazed how these strange souls seem to know where to go next without any direction from the foreman. They "happen" to know; this secret knowledge is fascinating to watch when they put on these strange acts.

Some recent pictures for some "blog fill" as I am too tired to do any genuine blogging on harassment events today. This is a series outside my apartment, looking six stories down on a secondary arterial street.

Taken 07-18-2008, 1739h 47 sec. Two white vehicles are parked with two stalls between them. A silver-grey vehicle is stopped at the traffic light before the stop line and not over it, a rarity in my proximity. One of those dumbshit Smart Cars the perps like is scooting out of the frame on the right.

Taken 07-18-2008, 1740h 08 sec. A black or dark green vehicle is in transit "hiding" behind the tree, and a black colored vehicle is leaving the frame on the right. I cannot get Picasa to zoom in more to find out what the vehicle color is.

Taken 07-20-2008, 1729h 33 sec. Two days later, a similar line up of parked vehicles in file at about the same time of day. Also note, they are parked illegally as this side of the street is no parking between 1600h and 1800h if my recall hasn't been fucked with. This looks to be three silver-grey vehicles parked in file, with the last one being a slighty darker shade. At the bottom of the picture, next to the roofing flashing, you can see the part of a minivan's roof, also silver-grey, or white. Four same, or near same colored vehicles parked outside my place at one time. That should be suspicious enough, never mind a repeat of two days ago.

Taken 07-20-2008, 1729h 46 sec. A navy blue and white pickup has arrived with a metallic mid-blue SUV behind it, in the through lane, though likely stopped at the traffic light. The pickup has wood in the box, and I often get "woodstalking" in this form to start out the vehicular harassment sessions.

Taken 07-20-2008, 1729h 49 sec. The metallic mid-blue vehicle has moved up to "hide" behind the foliage, and a silver-grey minivan is proceeding on the lane closest to the bottom of the picture. The two blue vehicles are "sandwiched" between two files of silver-grey vehicles, albeit the lower file is made of one parked minivan and one in motion.

Time to call this one done for the day; I am getting plenty of noisestalking as I type these up and decide to end this blog posting for tonight.

Wednesday, July 23, 2008


Mindstalking is a new term I learned from the activist's group; funny how I had thoughtstalking, noisestalking and other specialized forms with; bread, bananas, cardboard boxes, and a few others, but never mindstalking. I am not sure about this term, and shouldn't be a substitute for mind control or behaviour control IMHO.

A day of hard labor in the farm fields today, but with a decidedly multicultural exposure. Translated, that means other brown skinned individuals in close proximity, to further the perp's investigations with the color brown, and why and how I don't like the fucking color. A multi-billion dollar exercise hounding me as to why, and with what neural bioenergies, I loathe the color brown. Never mind the fact that they created the problem in the first place with their traumatizing incursions; life-rape isn't about being fair-minded.

They started me off with four negro street gangstalkers before 0650h when awaiting the crew bus. The shoe packing fuckwit that wanted a light three days ago was back at the same time with his buddies, one being a negro, and them all participating in a split formation strut in front of me while crossing the street. While waiting for the crew bus I saw the most disgusting looking policeman with a huge gut doing the back and forth strut opposite at City Hall, making like he was foiled in getting into the building. Worse yet, he was in shorts and had his head shaved; a too fugly sight for that early in the morning, no matter that he had three stripes.

On the way to the farm the crew bus picked up a new negro dude, a whole lot darker than the last one, who might have been a morphover job of a Caucasian. As so often happens, new gangstalkers put on the "look away look" and also flashed his teeth for me to see. This is nearly always standard for new gangstalking recruits, showing me the whites of their eyes and teeth. Later the new negro dude was sent with a negro woman to work with the regular Punjabi crew, assigned to infill planting of cabbage seedlings. (Replanting where the machine seedling had expired). This was already seeming odd to send two negroes over, never mind one of them being a new-today hire. At about 1000h, he was sent back to do daffodil bulb picking, and I was sent in his place, helping the Punjabis. I was also commanded to allow the new negro dude to use my hand rake, and even though I knew this was a harassment related dodge, I was not allowed to deny the perps this gambit. Anyhow, I had a back breaking time planting seedlings with the Punjabis, but as far as I could tell, I was doing a reasonable job. I never did find out why they didn't use a dibble to plant the container stock.

As the "Cabbage Crew" is all Punjabi, I also get the turban display as well, that particular headgear being one of the Unfavored. They don't speak much English, and their foreman points at a row he wants infill planted and away I go. But there was plenty of animated Punjabi conversation, fitting the perps' need to have me around unintelligible speech, i.e. a foreign language. Though certain foreign languages, e.g. German, may also incurr traumatization issues from the "lost years", ages 3 through 5.

And there was a German couple on the crew until two days ago when they quit in digust over some slight, though I was not there at the time. Last week I had them working near me, speaking their native tongue, and I cannot say that I noticed any kind of reaction, and not even a planted reaction the perps have given me. I see that the news has been recently pumping a story about Heim, a potential Nazi war criminal who performed many human experiments, second to the infamous Mengele. The latter somehow escaped from prison and continued his practices in South America, though was often sighted in North America, and even Montreal, possibly confering with an infamous psychiatrist by the name of Dr. Ewen Cameron, a Scotsman. And yes, I often get Scottish accents planted around me, and I do find this accent rather irksome for whatever reason, likely overt remote control. And I lived in Montreal, aged 2 to 3 in 1956-7, though I have no recollection to meeting him. It seems that many of the Montreal recollections have been deleted, though I have some fragmentary recollections then, but not for the next two years until 5 years old.

There was more cloud today, and thankfully the heat wasn't as bad as Sunday, only getting direct sun after 1400h. I am still wondering if I could put two working days in succession again, and not burn out like I did on Sunday.

I still haven't figured out where all the bulb picking crew members are all coming from; not all of them take the bus in the morning, and some get a ride and are dropped off at the farm marshalling area. Then some "arrive" an hour into the day's work, presumably as part of the perps' metered introduction games. Three of the "new hires" arrived after we started bulb picking, and lo, if one them isn't a little wacky, and started to stare at me a number of times when I would recovene with the crew at break times. And of course, the wacky one somehow "knows" to sit in the next seat to me, and also later drape his white plastic bag over my seat. And I noted the perps also white-marked the seat in front of me, and another of the odd regulars left a white napkin on the floor, a frequently used prop to get a white color reading in a dark area. As it "so happened", the three new hires all needed a bus ride back into downtown, having come from no determinable location when they started work. This isn't the first time that "extra employees" have come from somewhere else to quietly join the bulb picking crew.

I am too tired to add much more to this, and will likely be in the same state tomorrow night. Hopefully I can get the rest of the pictures in then. This posting has also had a considerable amount of typo sabotage, and well as syntax sabotage, and has been relatively onerous to compose.

Tuesday, July 22, 2008

Tactical Creepy Crawlie Sensations

The last time I attempted to start a new posting for today an insect "arrived" on my chair's armrest and was duly dispatched into a bloody mess that required cleanup. It was color sequenced too, first red, then orange over the minute of cleanup. The moment of creating a blog posting is of significant interest to the perps to put on a bug squash event.

An earlier silverfish bug crush event in the bathroom after breakfast begat an instant arrival of a light grey colored dust bunny at the precise moment it was crushed inside of the toilet paper I was grasping it in. Talk about timing and the teleportation of grey scale color dust bunnies. No one could make this up, except those who know how to materialize matter to where and when they want it delivered in place of showing up themselves to explain why I am involved in nonconsensual human experimentation.

Other more unusual jerkarounds this morning have been the creepy crawlies, sudden intense sensations of something crawling on my skin and yet there is nothing there. Or at least, most of the time, above insect arrival events excepted. The perps seem to want me to look at my skin at various pre-planned moments and will even darken down the normal shadows to get more skin tone variations. And if that weren't enough, they then place some lint or creepy crawlie sensations on my shoulders or upper arm such that I look directly at the "object", rather than through my glasses. This seems to be happening more often of late; no glasses at certain junctures to look at their chosen target; me, lint removal, or other immediate incursions.

This is the silly time; post dinner and pre-dusk, along with the beaming games as depicted in yesterday's blog (07-21-2008). I drew the curtains, and now they are strobocopically flashing light on the curtain, same as last night. It is always interesting to note the concurrent activity as this rather esoteric harassment activity and timing occurs. I was replying to this post at On Gangstalking, as it seems that the "Comments" functionality isn't showing up for some TI's. The comments should always be open and I will post any closures in this blog. Which might be why I don't get much comments, though I do get a few.

As it "so happens" I made a comment before dinner and it got blocked and wasn't posted it. This blatant fuckery occured just before dinner, and lo, if they didn't have me repeat the same process afterward. As regular readers will know, the perps are extra beserk following mealtimes, and they don't seem to have an full handle on the energetics of food digestion, especially if it is brown colored food. I have had four intense itches on my lower left lip in the past 10 minutes, and needed to abate them immediately as if a mosquito bite. Then more masers erupted as I typed the foregoing, all to dazzle my vision and obstruct my focus. This is all too exciting for the perps, as it seems to be down to short strokes; noisestalking my thoughts rarely now, perhaps when I shift attention and they didn't control that very neural activity.

Before dinner, the perps also poured on the vision impairment fuckery while I was Bookmarking some sites on gangstalking, the few that I don't know about. And lo, if the assholes haven't started noisestalking me as this is being written. I had best do something else.

The ongoing noise games have continued since dinner, and now a late spell of the church bell practice, always on Tuesdays. Bell ringing and like vibratory sources such as clanging crockery and glassware are big perp moments. This fits with the theories of the ether being filled with torsional energies in constant motion. It would seem that the perps are attempting to create greater interactions and thereby determine more bioenergetic energies (of me). Sometimes they will really go all out and smash some glass; this "happened" at the luncheon some four weeks ago; the ever loitering waiter dude just happened to fumble a wine glass and it broke on the floor some 4' from me. I could never figure out why I seemed to be present in restaurants when someone dumped a plate load of crockery and smashed it on the floor, usually in the kitchen and not in the public area. Now I know; it was staged to create more torsional energies for the perps to utilize.

I did the gym thing today, more out of boredom than anything else, as I am in the "transitional group", which is code for; individual floor exercises in the public area to enable greater close-in gangstalking. True enough, and they even had the tattoos out for me; three differing individuals over the hour that I was working out, two of them on women. It would seem that the perps are attempting to put the Unfavored object (tattoos) on Favored subjects (young attractive women). A constant theme.

The public area gangstalking involved at least 10 women arranged around me on three sides, and they even put an attractive blonde in place for some 30 seconds and then replaced her with a brunette. And 6' beyond them (a total of 10' away from me) were two of my classmates, both male, one being the headcase who is always loitering around me and swinging his arms around, acting like at total loon case. He is known as AA, my gym equivalent to Redshirt on the daffodil bulb crew; the wackaloon in-my-face instignator. And it seems that the perps need to put this type of character with the aid of the encirclement of women gangstalkers, so to differentiate the auric glow between them and the aforementioned male headcases. Nothing new there of course, just more of the same patterns of being gangstalked; constant exposure to subconscious recollections of the Unfavored. Not my problem; why do I have a phalanx of fuckwits choreographed around me all day long who appear to know more about me than I do myself? Presumably, all my conscious recollections have been deleted for the lost years, ages 3 to 5, and yet these assholes know all about my subconscious recall during this period.

I also had a seven count on negro gangstalkers today, one "happening" to be one of the daffodil bulb crew members. One of the negros, with a highly reflective skinhead was teleported ahead of me to then pretend to be one of the male staff at the vehicle dealership I passed by; it was almost like a police line up; five males aligned along the wall, one being the skinhead who then had a cap on as a component of disguise. Only later was I allowed to review that particular stunt and tag negro #2 the same as negro #4, only with an added cap and his glasses removed.

The gym was nearly skinhead free today, the major game was parading the yellow shirted male fuckwits past me as much as possible. For one of their gangstalking routines they had two yellowshirt nearly back to back, and then they split by walking in opposite directions at he same time with the third yellowshirt arriving and then walking between the first two departing yellow shirts. A precise choreography to say the least.

Though I did get a few other freaks at the gym; the loathesome sight of Ethnic Gut was there, made worse by his new skinhead look, and Grotesque Granny was at it again, hobbling to each gangstalking assignment to be in my purview more often than random chance. They were around often enough, but not to the intense levels of parading themselves as was the case before. As this was the first gym class in 10 days, I thought they would be all over me, but apart from the yellowstalking as mentioned above, they weren't seriously harassing me today.

But the on street ambulatory gangstalkers are walking closer to me, occupying the center of the sidewalk to leave me on the edge. Another case of wholesale public behavior change, yet again.

At the gym there was this setup in the public area where I was doing exercises on a floor mat. A woman came in close to me and started her exercises on a floor mat and was getting annoyingly close. Then she upped the ante and changed her routine to move her arms wider to get even closer. At that point, I had enough and I got up to leave and undertake another exercise elsewhere and then she went into a routine of saying she was sorry, she didn't realize how close she was etc. and departed and sat somewhere else. Which of course begs the question, how on earth did she know what my actions were about? I did not telegraph my intent in any way, she was not even looking at me to see how close she was, and I could of been getting up for any other reason than her incursion on my private space. Even more weirder was that I wasn't allowed to even look at her while she was apologizing to me; totally bizarre behavior that has never happened before. Which means, mind control, as I never ever do this; I always look at the person who is talking to me. Fucking outrageous.

That wasn't the only incursion of private space today; there was a crowd of about 15 young teens with an adult leading them on the sidewalk and they were coming toward me. Not a fucking one of them made any room for me and all were acting with the same level of total rudeness. It just doesn't happen that way in real life. They were all Caucasian and speaking in some kind of European language, all to add to the mystery of who they really were, and why didn't they have European manners instead of like rabble from an overpopulated third world refugee camp? Yet again, wholesale public behaviors uniformly changed for the worse.

Time to add more pictures, and lighten up on the details of today's gangstalk grief.

Taken 07-05-2008, 1621h. Three same silver grey parked vehicles, almost in file, with the one parking stall behind the tree with a black colored vehicle cleverly disguised by the foliage. And then note a similar grey toned white colored vehicle in motion. I don't think I need to repeat how often these two colors occur together, and that I once owned a silver-grey Volvo 245 for 14 years.

Taken 07-05-2008, 1621h. Around the corner, we can see four more silver-grey vehicles parked in a 90 degree offset to the three above, two on the left side facing W. and one on the right side facing E. On the left side, the colors of the parked vehicles are; mid red, blood red, silver-grey, dark something, silver-grey, blood red all in file, and then further upstreet are black, silver-grey and a blue-green. On the right side the vehicle colors are a mid-blue, silver-grey, white and silver grey, all in file. Out of 17 vehicles I count 8 are silver-grey, 3 are red, 2 are white, 2 are black with one indeterminate dark color, and a mid-blue and a blue-green. There is enough arrangements here to wonder what it is that the perps are doing besides covering two orthogonal angles with the near same vehicle colors with an additional red color on one side only.

Taken 07-09-2008, 1504h. The next day, on the same street, there is a near repeat of the above symetry of vehicle colors, this time with an emphasis on black as the baseline greytone color. On the left, a black pickup in motion and about to cross the intersection, then a red vehicle parked on the street, leading a file of a black vehicle (with a very odd red faux reflection on the hood), and another red colored vehicle. A white vehicle is in motion, following the black vehicle. On the right side of the street is a little more variety; a black pickup, a dark green SUV, and what I take to be a mid-grey metallic finish sedan. Certainly an odd color collection, especially in consideration of the above arrangements the day before.

Taken 07-13-2008, 1032h 49 sec. A seeming symmetry of the parked vehicles again, with the rooftops being of opposite ends of the greyscale; on the leftmost parked vehicle a silver-grey convertible with its black fabric roof up, a red colored vehicle behind it with a white colored "pouffy" fabric covered hardtop, an a near same red vehicle behind it.

Taken 07-13-2008, 1032h 54 sec. Five seconds later, the white vehicle has passed by, and the mobile color test vehicle seems to be blue. Not just one blue vehicle, but two headed in opposite directions; a blue SUV on the left, and behind the tree foliage, a second blue vehicle in motion.

Enough for a posting, and I will call it a day. I am thinking about doing hard labor tomorrow, though I am tenuous owing to the blatant gangstalking and harassment fuckery that will doubtless continue. A tedious consideration, also weighed by the inevitable laundry that will follow, along with the lint and accelerated garment "wear" games that go with it.

Monday, July 21, 2008

Yellow Leather Gloves

The perps had me rage-ified within 5 minutes of getting up; it was either fake touches or finger tip jabbings, zoning me out to stand around, or else being directed to the wrong kitchen cupboard. Ordinarily I would remember, but for "some reason" (read, invasive mind technologies of deleting one's recall), I cannot. [Later; it was a sustained vision assault that went on for a few minutes],

But as noted in yesterday's blog, the perps have me "reacting" immediately and vociferously to nearly all provocations, as this escalation is now the imposed "norm". As it is a Monday, it is the scripted day for a crap, and today was likely the big event of the morning. They timed the crap to be exactly after shaving. dental dental hygeine and pill intake (always a big deal for the assholes), and before the next step of dressing myself to get on with the day. It was such that I was totally naked at that juncture, even without having my eyeglasses or watch on. And lo, if they didn't pull some toilet blocking stunts and plunger games too, all to add to the excitement. Also noticed too, were farm mud splats that "arrived" by themselves on the bathroom counter. I can only assume that the perps were playing brown color reference games, and using the farm soil as the "browning" agent in the vicinity of the toilet. Anyway, enough on this topic.

I also got my laundry done afterward, many of the clothes were dusted with a significant amount of dust from yesterday's farm work, picking daffodil bulbs in the baking sun, and being the gangstalk bait for the day. The perp's obsession over laundry is also being heightened with this farm laborer work as it gets extra attention given the perps' methods of slathering me in dust to a degree no one else does, even if they sit on the ground, which I don't. As the farm work clothing is all quick dry, I hang them up in the bathroom rather than putting the garments in the dryer. This too is exciting news/developments of the perps, and one day, especially with the aid of my brother's commercial laundry business, they might actually figure out what seems to be escaping their timorous minds. I have said it often; they could likely figure out their "research problems" in weeks with my cooperation, but instead, orchestrate a game of pretend for 54 years and counting.

Then it was a sortie to get new leather work gloves, and that too was a gangstalker gauntlet; even some the "regulars", the ones who "happen" to be around at odd hours and location, and who appear to be vagrants, came out again, as it was a 10 block junket to get to this particular store that has plenty of variety of workclothes. All the shiftless males were about, some strangely standing around for no apparent reason, as well as all of them being headed in the same direction as I was; the ones across the street in parallel and the ones on my side of the street, ahead of me and behind. I have never seen so many males on a weekday just "wandering" around, many of them on Coffee Corps duty, holding it out in front for color reference purposes and of no seeming employment.

After some "help" at the store, where the store assistant made sure to touch every pair of gloves that I touched, I purchased a pair of leather gloves for my next round of daffodil bulb picking, should there be one. The last pair of gloves were a light yellow tan color and the perps had punched a half inch hole in one of the left hand fingers. No other finger was worn, it was out and out sabotage. And lo, if the dude at the checkout wasn't wearing a vile yellow shirt to add to the yellowness of the occasion. And there was at least ten dudes "arriving" at the store after I completed my purchase; it is very common I have come to learn that they will send follow-up gangstalkers for at least an hour after I have vacated a location or walked a route. In other words, the "follow up" gangstalkers were arriving before I had departed.

When headed out I got my brown stalking in the elevator; a skinhead dude with a brown cardboard box for chrissakes, and the asshole didn't make the usual move to allow me in, but stayed fixed in the opposite corner from the buttons toconstrict my elevator egress. All my elevator gangstalkers are doing this now. Another wholesale group change in behavior. The brown box act wasn't over by any means, as a UPS delivery truck was buzzing around me when walking to the store and back, making "deliveries". Translated, that means, "showing off the brown"; more cardboard boxes visible when stopped and the tailgate up, the deep dark brown colored van, and the driver in a dark brown outfit, their standard uniform. As the perps had de-pooed me before I set off, they were likely very anxious to get some brown readings off me from a distance by inserting various colors of brown when out and about. I cannot recount how many coffee bearing gangstalkers there were out on the street, probably over 100 on a working weekday.

And somewhere along the way on my outing I did get my "tattoo stalking", this time on someone's lower calf for chrissakes. As before, the perps ensure that I have a near constant exposure to all the things, colors, beings and situations that I don't like, or more specifically, that are Unfavored in my subconscious recall. Before Overt Harassment (BOH, 04-15-2002), I was not aware of these aversions, and now the perps have increased my "reactions" to these Unfavored elements. In another example today, the perps put on a turban act coming off the bus as I was walking toward the sidewalk, essentially repeating a slice of yesterday's crew bus ride back from the farm with some of the turbaned fulltime laboring staff. (And, it was at the exact location where I get off the crew bus). I also got the senseless stare from the turban act; he had no reason to look at me, and every reason to look ahead to where he was going, and did anyway. And yes, turbans, big hats, do-rags and most head adorning millinery are Unfavored.

A tea and chocolate break earlier, and then more online surfing along with a "torpor attack", where they had me in a near nap state while seated at this desk, and then pulled me out of it when viewing a blog posting on Mike Tyson's former abandoned house, now owned by someone who is likely in jail after being sucked into a FBI sting operation. That site even got me a two siren cascade. A first overlapping series of loud sirens, followed by a fainter series. The long familiar gambit of loud noise, then a following softer noise variant/harmonic. Been there, done that so often I am tired of it.

I am in the beam again, starting earlier today at about 1615h, and still directed at me, some 600' away. All from the the supposed tenants of a condo building who have all jointly pulled their venetian blinds down and turned them the same way to reflect the maximum abount of light. This stunt plays out over four stories and at least three apartments wide. Hard to beat that kind of orchestration.

On any given sunny day at these late summer afternoons/evenings I get three sources of faux reflectance beamed at me from these three sources, all E. of my apartment. Did this happen last year in this residence? No, it is a 2008 phenomenon, meaning it is a method to get more light in my apartment at this time of day, as well as a source of stroboscopic games that can be very perturbing, even with the curtains closed.

Beam Source #1. Taken today, 07-21-2008 at 1506h. 24 minutes ago. I know, you have seen this many times before, and I assume this was put on for picture bait; to draw me to the balcony and take a picture while a highly orchestrated parade of gangstalking vehicles and operatives swirled below. Would someone confirm how incredibly odd this is, to have the entire apartment block W. side to have all the blinds pulled down and turned in the same way? I once worked on the top floor when this was an office building, no coincidence I am sure.

Beam Source #2. Taken 07-18-2008 at 1739h. This is called View Towers and it about 120' away, and is 17 stories tall. It was built as a "social housing" initiative, but that is no longer the case. This is beaming as I write this, even at 1928h, though now dimming after a prior run for the last 60 minutes as the "source" of the strobing games and illuminating this apartment. There are at least two windows beaming at me, and at least one that has this decidedly artifical sheen to it which is not a window covering. The above picture also has some windows with the artificial sheen which is most odd at all the windows have their venetian blinds closed.

Beam Source #3. Taken 07-08-2008 at 1929h and will play later tonight, as it does every sunny summer night this year. I find it impossible that the reflected sun would be that strong, and two vertical surfaces would simutaneously reflect exactly into my apartment. Especially when I have been assiduously hounded with pit-lamping vehicles and other faux reflectances over the past six years.

And before I went to go do daffodil bulb picking the perps made sure to do two things; steal one pair of black acrylic underwear of the set of five pairs that I routinely use, and then mark up my elbows with scars from their remotely applied fuckery. In the case of the underwear it is no surprise that the assholes are incrementally pulling down my pants and exposing it out in the farm field all day long, so it would seem that they "need" a color reference somewhere else too, other than the remaining my dresser. As to who specifically might have the missing pair of the collected operatives, quislings, shills and fuckwits, I won't even guess. The elbow scars were put in place "from" leaning on some carpet at the gym while doing exercises. I did not drag my elbows on the carpet, so it cannot be carpet burn, one of the perps' favorite stunts to create skin reference points/color differences for themselves.

Anothe game of the perps is to play "hide the cursor" and not show me where it is until I have made a keystroke and potentially inserted something where I had no intention to do so. This is core level operating system manipulation it would seem, meaning that they can access all the Windows code and recompile a special version for me. Or, hack it in real time in some way using a graphical manipulation spoofing hack.

More screaming at the perps for hiding the vertical scroll bar and then proceeding to freeze its action to keep me looking at their chosen image for a few seconds longer. And that they like to rile me up all the time. The current background noise is street hollaring; this is an example of them arranging for me to hear voice, but no actual words. For some reason this is very important at certain junctures, keeping the bioenergetics role of the amygdala part of the brain which processes voice content separate from the language center of the brain, the right temporal lobe.

The perps are now pissing me off with the creepy crawlies, as if some bead of sweat somehow "erupted" on me when it is a cool evening tonight, and no direct sun, and the Beam Show, per above pictures, is over.

The hallway sourced clicking is matching the clicking of these keys as I type this. I just finished my first pee of the day, so I am sure there was some relevance in this all encompassing bioenergetic and behavior controlled net I am kept in. Now, some strange tapping has started up. As well, a micro-drop of pee lept from the surface of the water in the toilet and cleared the rim to land on the floor some 12" away. A perfect arc of unconventionally caused means, and the unusual usual around here. When haven't the perps messed with me taking a pee. Other likely remotely applied assay methods while urinating were to force me to yawn while peeing. Another was to snag one of my fingernails while in there, to force me to trim the offending fingernail afterward. The timing of fingernail trimming is highly tactical, but I have not yet figured out what the perps' associated objectives are.

Time to call this one done for the day, and dispense with the typo sabotage and vision impairments that are begining to increase. The perps have me demotivated about picking daffodil bulbs, and likely want some more "settle in" time for those yellow gloves I bought today. There was way too much invested gangstalking this morning for them not to optimize their deployment and replicate what I did with the old pair. Plus, the perps have an obsession with leather, as it seems to be a fabric that confers substantial benefits to the harassment games. Even the faux vagrants get dressed up in leather to improve some kind of energetic interaction with me.