Sunday, August 31, 2008

One Dreadlock At A Time +10-16-2008 updates

No posting yesterday, and not much happened last night, save another forced nap attack; a two hour sleep from 2050h to 2300h on the bed, and then doing the bathroom routine (face wash, dental hygeine) to then get into bed. Having such a late nap is another never-before behavior, or more like, new imposition. I got to sleep in short order for a 8.5 hour sleep, awakening with dreams of working on high buildings, not exactly anything I would select myself owing to my aversion to heights, and was a planted dream show IMHO.

Yesterday was a day on the daffodil bulb sort conveyor, and there was no one waving their hands in front of me thankfully, and more chat with the negro woman 3' away. This set the stage for a later hissy fit stunt by another woman during an unscheduled conveyor slowdown, complaining that we (me and the negro woman) were "yapping" and let too many rotten bulbs down the conveyor line. (We are back to sorting daffodil bulbs, taking out the rotten and misshapen ones). She then went on to accuse me of pointlessly waving my hands over the bulbs and not looking, which was a mysterious charge as there was no way she could see what I was looking at because my back was facing her as I direct my attention "upstream" on the conveyor belt to ensure I have the greatest amount of time to trap the defective bulbs. Anyhow, she went into a big huff, and did the exact same thing that Ms. C of the story did, looking away in an exaggerated tone of upsetness. Been there, done that, that being the passive-aggressive bullshit hissy fits, and I got a fair number of those in the days of Ms. C's association. (I hesitate to use the word "courting", as it was more like yo-yo-ing me with emotional blowups, hissy fits and then the odd dash of romantic intrigue).

Another of the strange farm worker characters arrived yesterday, "somehow" coming later on the city bus and being there for the ride home, the Redshirt Wacko, a faux schizophrenia act that keeps getting in my face. I have no tolerance for wackos, and no doubt the perps know this by way of subconscious recall elicitation and want to inculcate me with more tolerance. And even greater intolerance when said wacko is dressed in a red shirt all the time, packs plastic bags around me, dumps his shoe on my back, dumps his coffee in the aisle of the crew bus and worst of all, has freaking dreadlock hair, surely one of the greater Unfavored hairstyles going.

The Redshirt Wacko has a green Mao hat which masks his hair for the most part, and two days ago after some preliminary choreographed movement of the gangstalking "coworkers" while I was sitting at the outdoor picnic table at day's end and waiting for the crew bus, the Redshirt Wacko sits on the bench, back toward me. Then my attention was directed to his hair that was outside of his hat, and there were two dreadlocks poking out. The perps had me get up and continue waiting up elsewhere. Then yesterday, after a similar orchestrated preliminary gangstalking parade at day's end, the Redshirt Wacko does exactly the same thing, sits in the same place with his back toward me, thie time with about five dreadlocks visible from underneath his hat. Again, the perps have me "react" and head to the crew bus. And so it would seem that I have an unconscious loathing of dreadlock hair, and the perps are doing what they always do; visually parse the unpleasant/Unfavored sight/object/behavior into short timed exposures and/or visual subset portions, and then incrementally building up up the unpleasant visage. Though sometimes the perps will do this stunt in reverse; start with the most complex image/object and then incrementally render it into smaller components for me to see.

And speaking of more Unfavoreds, at 0630h in the morning, after dumping the garbage in the now outside dumpster, (the garbage room has "vagrants" continuing to sleep on the concrete floor), and when in front of the apartment building, the perps put on the freaking dwarf act again. Yet another Unfavored that the perps are continuing to expose me to, now at least the fifth time, with the said dwarf posing as a tenant on my floor in the partment outside the laundry room door. Convenient, this choice placement, which also happens to be what I call Common Room #2, where all manner of demographically improbable tenants emerge in any given week; Asian couples, biking dudes and now a dwarf.

The ringing church bells noise has given way to hallway antic noise; voice, laughing, (in both female and male variants) metal bashing, clicking and clanging and some overhead pounding noise. The latter being totally manufactured as there is a 12" concrete/steel ceiling/floor in between me and upstairs putative neighbors. As always, it appears most, but not all, sounds are projected from some location, the sirens being the most obvious candidate.

I am back from a vistitation to the LD store to refill my prescriptions; the perps fucked me into throwing out the new bottles and keeping the old ones with the new medication and therefore the essential Rx number was missing to arrange a refill by phone. Just another stunt.

I got a yellow shoed gangstalker in the elevator who then joined three of his "mates" to loiter around while I walked past them. Then another three males were on the sidewalk, then two more parties of four males each were also in a state of flux, one of them jay walking within 10' of the crosswalk. This was 13 males within 60' of sidewalk; the perps have been big on male gangstalker clusters, possibly because they are Unfavored, and to elicit some kind of reaction they wish to quantify in bioenergetic terms, and then later nullify. Just the usual. I notice that they are still keeping the Scottish accented dude around me when doing farm work, so the perps haven't totally captured the bioenergetics of that Unfavored demographic, and likely past traumatization association.

I got a yellow sports jacketed dude doing the "look-away" (at nothing in particular) while walking toward me on my way to the LD store. As soon as he was out of my peripherial vision there was an immediate same colored yellow plasma beam over the concrete of the sidewalk, 6' long, 2" wide and arrayed parallel to my direction of travel. There was a third yellow wearing male when I came back, he doing the running thing as so many gangstalkers do, breaking out into a run for no apparent reason. And if you haven't surmised as to what I think of yellow colored clothing on males, you should know that I loathe the sight of it.

At the LD store, the perps sucked me into getting Neurogena Acne Wash when I reallly wanted Neurogena Deep Clean, conveniently blanking me out of what I wanted and sucking me into thinking it was a new packaging design. They also removed all the Deep Clean from the display, so there wasn't any of the product to select. They also kept a gangstalker buzzing around me as I was attempting to figure out this game of fuckery. Then they had my old supervisor from one of my forestry jobs to encircle me and sit down while I was speaking with the East Indian male pharmacist to refill my prescription. My seeming old supervisor and I looked at each other, and neither of us said anything; my excuse is that I haven't seen him in at least 20 years, after he retired, so I don't know if for sure it was the same person, but he fitted the height, size, comportment and general countenance of that individual.

The ongoing perp antics while I pay for my items at the LD store continued, along with populating the checkout with Unfavored demographic group specimens, aka gangstalkers. The obese woman cashier rustled the plastic bags, while I was paying by way of debit card, and was joined by a ponytailed and bearded male on the adjacent phone/PA system. As always, any kind of electromagnetic disturbance in my proximity is a perp managed event, and they cannot get enough cell phones and other like devices around me for long enough.

As tomorrow is Labor Day, and I am going to my parents' place tonight, I will wind up this blog posting now, save some anecdotal stories copied in below, most of which was conveyed to Tim D. Bunker (tidbunker email handle- get it?) in my email response to his inquiry as to whether the TI experience is real or not. (He hasn't responded and perhaps he is away, or perhaps his/my email was blocked). Anyhow, here are some stories for you, almost a good as pictures.

There have been the odd purposeful "tells" dropped by family members usually; here is a sample.
I complained to my mother when I saw a hospital based gangstalker/patient in 2003 recieving an envelope in a building that was 300' from the hospital (I was walking toward the building from outside, and the person recieving the envelope was inside). I said to my mother, "when will I be compensated?" (Adopting the understanding that the gangstalker/patient was being compensated with the contents of the envelope at that very moment , as she moved on within a day). My mother said, "you will be, you will be".

In 06-2003 immediately following my hospital incarceration I was staying at my parents until I could find my own place. Each morning there was someone in the atic above for at least five minutes thumping about. I couldn't get my head around how someone could get up there, (hadn't been exposed to many teleportation stunts then). I was usually prone whne these overhead thumpings occured, and in a light sleep except for one morning when I was up early for "some reason". I heard the thumping in the atic, and was getting out of bed to investigate it when I overheard my mother say in a loud anxious whisper, "he's awake". Which meant that the reference was to me, as there wasn't any other context that made any sense. So, how is it that my mother knew I was getting up from another room through two closed doors (25' away), and why did she feel compelled to say something and to whom? The thumping noise in the atic stopped within five seconds.

In 2003 I complained to one of my swimmer team mates about the harassment, not knowing he was party to past covert monitoring and scripted events at that time, and he said "hang in there, its worth it".

I was talking to my mother about various possessions and belongings, especially those related to camping. I said something like "my camping days are over" (aged 53 at the time, on a disability income and no means to undertake such an activity any more) and my mother said something to the effect of "don't be so sure".

I was talking to my brother about various general future portents, going out to the year 2050, and I said something to the effect that I would not be around to care then, and he responded in a way that suggested with certainty that I would be. (I would be 96 in 2050).

There have been a few more of these "tells" and at the time I thought they were mistakes, but as I came to appreciate the high degree of control and precision as to what I see, hear, and think, I now suspect these were purposeful. For what purpose, I don't know. This is an extension of the ongoing ambulatory gangstalkers making extra obvious feints and movements, all of them odd in the context, and decidecly purposeful.

Another "tell", and strictly a visual one, was a camoflaged dressed dude lounging outside the LD store when I entered (no one does this, except him so far), and when in the store at the checkout, an older woman starts babbling to me about where to line up for the checkout, and the camo dressed dude comes into the store, and from 20' away, beckons her to come toward him. These two individuals appeared to be unrelated or unassociated in a normal context, save this strange visual instruction to which the woman immediately followed.

Another "tell", or at least one that I treat as such, was a weekly group discussion meeting I was involved in, and someone mentioned something about me singing, and I said "I cannot sing to save myself" and all eight (or so) laughed together. None of them knew if I could really sing or not, and I was telling them truthfully that I could not, so what was so uniformly funny about that?

There are a few more of these anecdotes, but that should give your some idea that the harassment, control, and exposure to other phenomenon is authentic and analysed all the time. As the perceptive and eloquent Rachael O. of On Gangstalking summarized the TI experience;
We do not imagine the stalking and harassment. We do not imagine strangers knowing way too much about us or that we are treated like mindless toys our whole lives. The whole thing is creepy and a living hell. True insanity would be much, much easier.
Have a harassment free Labor Day for the TI's in the reading audience on the other side of this LCD display.

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