More Bulb Sort Time

2000h
A day of toil on the daffodil bulb conveyor line, though to be fair, the time passes quickly as so many bulbs pass by for sorting into keepers and rejects.

All around the sorting line is a buzz of activity, mainly the forklift bringing in palette loads of empty plastic boxes for storage of the newly sorted bulbs, taking away the rejected bulbs and delivering the supply of bulbs for the sorting conveyor. And no less, they put a blonde woman on as the forklift driver yesterday; she is moderately attractive with a long mane of silken hair at her back. At break time the 300+lb native Indian man, newly hired today, was hanging around her and chatting, seeming to repeat the long observed choregraphy of having the Unfavored (male, overweight, brown skin) loiter in the penumbric ether of the Favored (attractive blonde woman).

They also put on two Punjabi women opposite me on the conveyor. Strangely though, they were selecting for keeper bulbs rather than letting them through to the end of the conveyor for the keepers. How they were assigned a contrary mission, complete with the forklift truck service to reload their palettes is beyond me, but there might be some plan behind it, or it might be how they always did it. There are many strange assignments, personnel arriving or leaving mysteriously, personnel visitations, especially after I eat my tortilla at the first break, that I have given up on recounting all of them. As always, the crew knows what to do, even without seeming supervision.

2130h
No post last night as I had a never-before two hour nap after dinner, 1900 to 2100h and was kept in a demotivated dozy state afterward. It was dusk onset time, one of the perps' silly times of the day when they apply extra fuckery. I had even determined it was the time of day the human eye switches from rods to cones, or vice versa, and it seems this is of profound interest to the malevolent party that makes my life an ongoing hell.

I have yet to reply to Anonymous, who responded to my posting titled, Answers to Anonymous, 08-02-2008. The tone of the second round comment, that will not be posted, was decidedly cranky and obdurate. So much for enlightening the masses. This would not be the first TI blog to have the comment feature removed, but I will see how it goes. Suffice to say, if Anonymous is going to make a clinical diagnosis, not only must they present their clinical credentials, but must see the patient in person. I plan to "tune up" my first response to batten down any lose ends, but other than that, Anonymous won't get an answer to their second round rabidity. Imagine that, throwing me softball comments to further a rational dialog (seemingly), and then going beserk on the next round. Nothing new there, I only hope that Anonymous isn't anyone I know in person, picking up where they left off some five years ago, playing ubercoward.

Onto more entertaining things, though sorting daffodil bulbs all day does bring on a monotonous mind set by day's end. I see that the perps are sampling differing brown skinned individuals around me, and even have them sitting in the same location on the bench, one after the other. The above native Indian was mixed in with Punjabis that regularly work at the farm, and there was a interesting vignette where four of Caucasian gangstalkers surrounded me for a minute or so, and then the native Indian sat 4' away on the bench for a few minutes, then serially, two Punjabi males in their turbans. I loathe the sight of turbans (a siren cascade has erupted while I type this), and I don't know why. I suspect the malevolent party knows all about it, and is the reason they can't get enough of this headwear in my face, as in tonight's bus ride back. It was a pinky to light brown colored turban, the guy moved across his seat to be directly on front of me, and I found it gross for whatever reason. As always, I have never reacted to these colors before, or any of the Unfavored, and now I do all the time. After plenty of turban exposure last week, the perps put on a turbaned "businessman"/gangstalker on my weekday walking route. I have never seen any turban wearing male downtown before, and that makes it another first.

At least the perps didn't rag me with other daffodil bulb pickers today like the day before, putting their hands directly in front of where I was to put mine on the conveyor belt. That kind of encroachment of my personal working space got so invasive that I moved to a new location on the conveyor. Five minutes later, another fucker moves across from me and pulls the same shit until I reamed his ass. The perps have me on a hair-trigger response to intolerance. But, invasion of my personal space seems to be getting more attention these days, and it seems that they like to start with the most tolerated, the Favored, and move incrementally through the Unfavored. To illustrate the above example, a native Indian adult male was encroaching on my space on the conveyor and I moved, and then he moved back to his original location. Then they put an East Indian kid, about 12 y.o. opposite me who did the same thing until I got pissed at him and he backed off. He also put some staring time in, lining me up before I looked at him. He immediately averted his gaze the instant I became annoyed, but before I looked at him. Some gratitude, as I was the one that had earlier trained him on bulb sorting. Yet a another thankless and ungrateful shit; sound familiar?

I noticed today that the perps put a Caucasian kid next to an adult Caucasian male on the opposite side of the conveyor, elbow to elbow it seemed. Perhaps the perps wanted me to witness third party personal space encroachment first, rather that putting me in directly in the position like they did yesterday. This is going to be one long haul of harassment, possibly even a year, to test me on personal space invasion traumatization reactions that they seem to be looking for. Last week's gym stunt was the culmination of personal space encroachment there, all to bounce me out from that 2x per week routine I had stayed with for 14 months. They intended to cross the line and wilfully did so IMHO, bringing out five red-shirted males ringing me.

2225h
Time to call this one done for the day, and post this for whatever readership there is. I haven't checked the Google statistics since I got it working, and it isn't always easy to find.

2300h
A ten minute visit to the local supermarket begat more strangeness, especially in the elevator on the way back. Five dudes emerged, and the woman loitering outside followed me in and then asked me which floor and then the elevator went down to the basement to for two well dressed middle aged women with a painted wood furniture item. They got in, and the woman who had followed me in didn't press her floor button and defered to the women with the furniture. So it seemed the woman who followed me in had known in advance that she wasn't going to her floor first. (That the deferment was imminent). Get all that?

Anyhow, the entire visit was all about the infernal goat milk going off again; the expiry date is Aug. 17 and here it is Aug. 09. The fridge is on the coldest setting, and the milk is curdling over a week early. And lo, if I couldn't get the small boxboard 1L. carton, having to get a 2L. size in a plastic container. The latter size had been dropped from my shopping because it too was prematurely curdling. Back and forth, sabotaged goat milk games again.