Thursday, July 17, 2008

Neighbor Noise; Tapping While Siren Noise is Played

Another day of hard labor in the fields, and of course, all the gangstalking that goes with it. I am somewhat bushed after an entire day in the sun.

The sirens were on at this seeming critical juncture of the day, about 40 minutes after dinner, and the faux neighbors softly tapping the wall for the 20' length of it. This kind of noise starts up often, and it is hilarious in that it doesn't fit any cover story of any normal neighbor. Regular readers will know that I reckon that there are no neighbors in this 140 suite apartment block, fitting with the same observation at the last two residences.

And I see that there is extra gangstalking scrutiny applied while continuing with my daily laundry, all the dirty clothes from digging in soil all day long, and extra filth applied by the perps. I am the only one who seems to get the most dirt on their clothes, even with no direct soil-clothing contact. (I have a kneel pad). I got stopped by two parties attempting to launder my clothes as they were ahead of me. The upshot was that it delayed me getting onto laundry until two hours later when another party's laundry was in the washing machine, having been left there after th final spin. I moved all this laundry to the nearby work surface and lo, if the owner didn't "happen" to arrive shortly afterward while I was loading my laundry into the washing machine. In over a year in this apartment building I have seen only one other party in the laundry room, and in the last two laundry days I have had gangstalkers all over me. Regular readers will know that the perps have a total obsession over me doing laundry and sabotage or delay every aspect of it as well as arrange odd permutations such as drying it in the bathroom. The recent lint sabotage has been avoided so far my not putting a towel in with the laundry, but as the perps have surely arranged, this gig cannot last for too long. The new towels, all laundered at least once, are the putative source of lint that erupts in the washing machine and sticks to other clothing far outside the expectable lint adhesion of the fabrics.

Thge perps kept me in a near sleep at this LCD display for the last two hours, but wouldn't let me nap. I reckon this was some kind of partial brain shutdown games the assholes were up to, as they pulled this one yesterday as well, even if I got screwed out of working. No one had any rational reason as to why the crew bus was so early yesterday, they all avoided the topic.

There was plenty of gangstalk action in the fields of the daffodils today, just like each day there. The East Indians are still on parading duty, passing by me in some ordered fashion, and pimping their turbans, an article of clothing which I don't care to see, and is likely part of the ongoing subconscious recall prompting of the Unfavored that makes up much of the daily freakshow that continues around me.

On the Favored side, the attractive blonde wasn't there today, but in her place an attractive brunette who "somehow" has taken on daffodil bulb picking. I cannot think of a much more grittier job, and thereby an unlikely one to draw attractive women into its ranks.

The East Indian kid crew member finally gave up his loud red shirt, and instead settled for a black and white colored one, and toward the end of the day he located himself about 20' from me but refrained from doing 360 degree encirclement games today.

There was plenty of noisey aircraft overhead, but few were helicopters, and no military ones today. The day was spent in full sun, but the wind kept it cool, until it stopped for about a half hour when it become uncomfortably hot. It suddenly became like I was in a microwave oven, which probably isn't far from the truth.

At the end of the day there was a "close in" when the work was ending on one row of daffodil bulbs which meant that there was at least five other pickers immediately around me, some working together with me on raking the same patch of ground. It seemed orchestrated to me, and it seemed like some kind of attempt to try something in the way of bioenergetics interaction at day's end.

My nearest daffodil bulb picker put on the crazy act, talking to herself all day long, and with many of her intonations posed as if she was asking me a question, initially getting my attention until I finally tuned her out for the remainder of the day. She also "happened" to sit next to me on the outbound bus and "somehow" didn't know that later when she came to pick bulbs within 20' of me, per the normal dispersion instructions for all the pickers. She also seemed to be some kind of gangstalking intermediary when we were taking breaks in the bus; she placed herself between me and the others, leaning on the seats. She was dressed all in light blue, usually one of the first colors the perps select when they get past their reference colors of white, black, and greys. It is plain tiresome to be on the alert for who is for real, and who isn't, but it is the only rational conclusion that one can make given the circumstances.

Have I said how much I loathe tattoos and yet I get them planted around me? And again, this time I get the tattoo exposure via the internet, at Advice Goddess' Blog, here. I cannot sensibily claim any kind of orchestration, but it is interesting how this topic is surfacing in my life, now in Vogue of all places. (And interesting too, that I cannot be allowed to spell the word correctly).

I am getting too tired to stay up, and am going to call this one done for the day. There has been plenty of long decay noise tonight; loud mufflered vehicles, chopped motorcycles etc., all the loathed sounds of course.

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