Friday, October 31, 2008

Overhead Pounding Comes For Tea

Lest readers not know, I live on the sixth floor of a 12 story concrete and steel building where the floors are at least 12" thick and the surfaces carpeted in every suite, save the kitchen and bathroom. And yet, my upstairs neighbor can "somehow" pound this floor/ceiling as if there was no carpeting and it was no physical problem to pound that thickness to make a significant racket below. Not only that, there was a run-up of overhead pounding when I was at my desk (carpeted area), and then it followed me to the kitchen after I had tea, exactly overhead again (8' away), while running the water and doing the dishes. It would seem that the noise of running water is one the perps wish to add onto "regular harassment" noise, as if the water noise is a carrier noise of some kind. This is just a "regular day" I hasten to add, and the anomalous nature of the noise following me over the apartment is nothing new.

I was out earlier to my interview with a job search/placement agency. A 10 minute walk, and then a 10 minute bus trip, and then a 5 minute walk. I got my "fellow travellers" in both directions while on the bus, a new escalation in blatantly hounding me with gangstalkers. These are the operatives and shills who get on and off the same bus stops as I do. That never happened before the onset of overt harassment, ever, and now it is a common occurence to have one "fellow traveller". But one N. bound, and three S. bound was plenty blatant by my reckoning. And furthermore, one of the better dressed malingering males of this apartment block was on the bus in advance of me getting on N. bound. He was friendly when in the elevator a week ago, but pretended I didn't exist and he even looked straight at me. This too, the variable friendliness, is a long experienced trait of the gangstalked (TI) community. And I suppose it was a big day for the perps as I didn't wear my jeans for the first time in a long time.

And I did get plenty of gangstalking action at the N. bound bus stop; two gangstalkers walked within 3" of me while I was standing at the bus stop and not in a throughfare area of the sidewalk. Two personal space encroaching Fuckwits at a bus stop inside of 10 minutes is an outrageously improbable event, they seeming to be disparate individuals. I got my "banana stalker" there too, the operative that "happens" to be packing a banana, and this time at least, eating it. Ten minutes later when the bus came, he had a plastic pitcher in hand half full of orange juice. And where did he get that I wonder, as it couldn't of come from a backpack as it is strictly a kitchen item, an open mouthed pitcher.

Then when attempting to find the office of the employment agency I got screwed around by a woman who gave me entirely wrong directions, all to create more pacing around the planted vehicles and building, as well as be the cause to piss me off at the outset. It seems that the perps' reluctance to get me pissed off in public is now passing, and they have also increased the frequency and degree of stunts here at my apartment to get me to yell at them all the more. And too, have me place my fingers in my ears to block out the annoying trailing-off noises of the train of loud mufflered "performance" vehicles, hotrods and the ill-maintained mufflered vehicles. About two per minute as I write this now.

And this is the post tea and chocolate time when I digest these beverages and foods, an object of intensified interest of late. And as this was a new package of loose tea, this might be why the extra pounding is going on, never mind the typo sabotage too. New objects or events are noisestalked or otherwise accorded extra phenomenon like masers and plasma beams. Any new establishment of routine as well, though they would know this more than I, as I don't usually get to know if an activity will become routine.

And today was an example of the trival becoming the complex, uneccessarily so. Through this placement company I responded to an ad last week, and as part of the process I had to fill out an online resume and supply relevant details like any other web job site. Fine, then I get a request for an interview, to which I agree, and was told to fill out the application form online. The perps blanked my recall at that moment, but over the next half hour allowed me to recall what I normally would know, I had already filled out the requested form. Then there was the missed appointment jerkaround of two days ago, and a new interview time for today. I was told 1030h and wrote int down, but yesterday I got an appointment reminder for 0945h. I phoned, and was eventually set for 0945h. I then ask if the interview pertains to the job I submitted it for, and was informed that the interviewer has some jobs in mind. Fine, this is looking good. Then today, after the interview, I was allowed to know that this was nothing more than a general induction interview, something they do for all prospective hires. I would be sent out on an interview to prospective employers (like anyone else) as it turns out. It seems I cannot get a straight answer from anyone; all this low level bullshit over nothing much. I don't get it; why all this bullshit over something so utterly trivial as an appointment time and interview intention?

Anyhow, the above tale isn't too unusual for me, as this same nonsense went on with supplied bus passes as I recall, and hopefully conveyed in these blog postings. Another longer playing jerkaround is the so-called Opportunities Fund for us disabled folk to afford training. After a blatant runaround at the offices some two weeks ago, I find out that the process needs a federal government case worker to attest to training feasibilty and to develop the almighty Return To Work Action Plan. It was another discovery I wasn't apprised of, and after emailing the Disabilities Resource Center two days ago on how to resume progress, and then not recieving a response, I phone them up. As it "happens" the person I needed to talk to was on the other line, and would phone back after a voice mail. Now that the afternoon has gone by, no phone call. I don't get it; what is this blatant hamster maze of contrived adversity and bullshit all about?

All I can say it is fucking stupid, and why are the perps pissing me around like this, posing the possibility and then pulling it, and then another iteration, ad nauseum. I am on record stating that this bait and switch tatic is a favorite of theirs, but still don't have any insight as to why, except maybe to keep me busy.

Today's interviewer didn't ask too many questions as to why I haven't worked for six years, so perhaps this particular "problem" won't surface again, and that I will get launched with a new employer. Or, I suspect, a round of temp jobs to keep me circulating, another primitive need of theirs. Like many meetings, I am the first or last to enter the room, and in this case, a delay. All manner of plasma and maser beams flitted around the placement agency while I was filling out more forms and questionaires. And a new twist was the interviewer wearing an outfit that could of been mistaken for a Halloween outfit, but it wasn't in fact. White with 1" green polka dots, jacket and pants as a suit. I don't think I have seen anything quite so eyestraining before, hence the "passing notion", (read, perp planted), that it was an outrageous Halloween stunt. I was allowed to keep my observations to myself thankfully.

Like all meetings, I had the impression the interviewer had heard much of what I said before; those little "tells" of boredom that I have noted for decades were apparent. For the longest time I could never figure it out why some individuals wouldn't listen to me and were disinterested, and lo, if they hadn't been rehearsing it all along, IMHO. There was no seeming white knight of employment to have surfaced at the interview today. That I have $25,000 (or more) of government supplied Opportunities Fund training sitting over me ought to be interesting to an interviewer/potential employer, but I should of refrained from mentioning it as was a big dud; no interest. More odd incurious reaction, to me at least, not unlike some of yesterday's interview with the journalist.

Dinner is done, and with a slew of provocations to get me enraged; just the usual; strangely behaving cling wrap, finger demobilization, extra crumbly cheese with the crumbs endin up under my fingertips, pulling objects from my grasp, flicking olive oil around (floor and wall), overhead pounding noise, self-partitioning chicken meat (not requiring the application of a knife to cut it), the noise of five buses going by as if outside my door, and a few more "performance muffler" noises trailing off into the distance. And the lastest; "crumb fucking"; the crumb defies gravity and stays on my fingers, getting passed from one to the other as I attempt to get rid of it. And they won't let me act as a bystander either, but have me go into instant rageification mode. And no less, changing my voice and diaphram to make louder noise. Normally they suck the wind out of me to moderate my "complaint" volume, but this time not. Another abuse escalation today.

Other action earlier while out was to have the standby gangstalking vehicles; redi-mix trucks (1), petroleum fuel delivery tankers (1), cement supply tractor trailers (2), and plenty of white vehicle clusters (six to eight per cluster), then silver-grey ones with some slightly more grey tones, then a cluster of deep grey vehicles at which point they felt more comfortable inserting the odd red vehicle into the gangstalk configurations. And it was multicultural day on the bus when homebound; at least four brown skinned gangstalkers arranged around me in various poses, almost all of them with their mouths open. And more of the shiftless males walking around in black coats with red shoulder panels on them, much like yesterday's first post-yoga class stalker with the absurd camo shorts. I have never seen so many males wandering around without an apparent day job in all my life, no matter where I have been.

And to continue the abuse, the assholes took down my web browser within seconds of allowing it to display. This kind of intrusion has been going on almost daily of a week now. There is something they need to know about the act of initiating an application, and a web browser will do.

It is font change time; this is where all open tabs and applications uniformly undergo a font change, usually to thinner and more compacted form, and without any action on my part. As I visit each application or tab in turn, they all have undergone a font change since the last visitation. Odd that this font changing occurs in the late evening, after 2130h or so, and for the next hour or so.

And music listening tonight, the first in at least two months. All to be accompanied by firecracker noise in the background as it turned out. Plenty of good health reading to be found at the Doctor Within. Time to call this one done.

Thursday, October 30, 2008

Browser Games

A noise flurry is on at this post-dinner moment. Even motorcycle noise, as if they were the vehicle of first resort in the rain, which has been on since I got back from yoga at 1230h. (Usually motorcycles are the last resort in the rain, if only for the tricky handling conditions). I was forced to wear my ball cap for the last block walking back when large drops began pelting down. Regular readers will know there are some astonishing "coincidences" with my outings and the weather, as it seems that rain serves as a surrogate street cleaner, an activity that has erupted into prominence since the harassment began in 2002. Though, I wouldn't count this single example of rain coming on after being out as anomalous, but when one adds up some 30 or more such events in the last two years, it does seem to be strange. I don't think all TI's get the weather modified just for them, but without attempting to sound hubristic, I seem to be one TI that gets plenty of attention more than most. I can even recall oddities in the weather going back decades, which even involved others who seemed a little tentative about my response to their observations.

I just finished a yelling at the perps over their continued sabotage of the downward scroll of my webpage, often used to hold me looking at the page for longer than I intended. Oddly, these are the pages that have some of the Unfavored demographic group members featured. If I don't want to look at unsavory characters, why do I have some assholes seizing up my web browser action to keep me looking for longer at the same page, if only for a few seconds until I get another page from the Bookmarks Manager? Yesterday they even froze the Firefox browser to pull this same stunt, and if I recall correctly, it was after dinner too.

Back to this morning's yoga class. A pair weird males showed up together, to be part of the class today. We don't often get new members for whatever reason, but today, Mutt and Jeff got the instructor's attention as they were novices. That is, she often did her demonstrations next to them, or between them, to aid their poses. A normal thing to do, and it was the first time she had novices in class.

When seeing these dudes from the Unfavored demographic groups (fat as one and long haired male as a second group), the thought occured to me that perhaps this was the begining of the end for the yoga class, as it is the first time that we have got such representation. It all depends upon how often they will come I suppose, and if they like to plant themselves where I sit or other disruptions. The now discontinued attendence to the gym class also got more freakish toward the end of my tenure.

I had my usual onslaught of freaks on the street when walking back from yoga; as mentioned in past blog postings, it does seem to be prime time following all the back stretching and twisting. Even before yoga, I had my wierds doing yoga like exercises on the street while waiting at a bus stop at a constriction in the sidewalk. Then a dude at the adjacent tire shop was doing his yoga like service on the ground (kneeling, bent over as if in child's pose) in his bright red shirt. Another gangstalker was on me just then in his red walker and red ball cap. When I got out of yoga there was a waddling male some 30' ahead of me in a black short coat with large red panels in the shoulders, and then in shorts to his knee in camoflage colors, greens and browns. I have not yet figured out if the waddling males are doing this strut to elicit some kind of subconscious recall, or if it is to generate more etheric energetic interaction in my proximity. No matter, I cannot stand the sight of adults waddling along. One of the notorious MKULTRA henchmen, Dr. Sidney Gottlieb, (and here) had a club foot and would of waddled to some extent. I have no recollection of meeting such a person given the near complete memory wipe (it seems) the assholes pulled on me when three to five years old, but the prominent waddling male gangstalkers are just too silly sometimes. I have some recollections from two to three years old when living in Montreal for my father's academic term, but not of the three day train trip that it was to return to Victoria then. (And it was by train, not aircraft).

And no further action on the journalist interview today; she indicated that there would be a longer interval, and it remains to be seen how far her research will go. Most of the harassment and nonconsensual human experimentation of targetted individuals (TI's, me being one) are never reported by mainstream media, so I am a little reserved as to the outcome of this. All of the personal email TI responses are encouraging, so we shall see what happens.

At yoga today, I noticed that the perps put on extra masers and plasma activities. There were small, penny to pencil eraser sized metallic shimmerings which don't last more than a second or two. I see about 20 of these in my apartment in any given day, a few in the hallway, but rarely anywhere else. It struck me that there was an escalation of this kind of activity, as even the entire room was pulsating in a vibratory way, as if oscillating. Again, this vibratory is very noticeable in my apartment, which includes me, so perhaps they cranked up the intensity of this particular irradiative (I think) treatment. There didn't seem to be any associations with the yoga poses or outside noise, an frequent phenomenon concurrence, so perhaps they were calibrating the room at that point. But I do get more masers and plasma beams "erupting" anywhere I am to reach and place my hands, and also, immediately after removing or placing an object. The light flashes, (bright plasma beams it would seem), are particular noticeable.

I just got zapped when sending an email to a TI colleague, and by now, everyone knows I fucking hate getting zapped. And an simutaneous clunking noise erupted at the very same time as the zapping, as there nearly always is. Though the sound of the clunking will very, sometimes with a backbeat, others not. More of the fake neighbor water use noise has now erupted, just before taking my tea and chocolate break.

Some interesting reading about feral children, and it was also of interest to my noisestalking pals overhead. Just the usual tapping and clunking through 12" of concrete and steel.

Time to call this one done for the day.

Wednesday, October 29, 2008

Missed Appointment

I had an 0900h appointment which demands the use of the alarm clock owing to the imposed vagaries of my get-up times, anywhere from 0600h to 1000h no matter previous day sleep duration. Soo.. I duly "calculated" the appropriate time to set the alarm and was out by an hour as it "so happened", another all time first. The discovery was made here at my apartment some 10 minutes before appointment time, and the perps duly cranked me up to a rage state over this mental incursion, and had me boot up the PC to get a hold of the phone number. I made the call after one seeming answering machine dead end call, and all was OK and I got an new appointment time later in the morning for Oct. 31. No doubt I will be seeing plenty of goblins and the like while out, effectively diluting the oddities of the usual gangstalk freakshow I see most times when out in public.

The actual intent of the perps to have me "miscalculate" the time isn't wholly clear, but any excuse to inflict an intrusionistic functional separation of intent and action is all it takes. This is just another one of the games that goes down, and any given appointment is always assigned some kind of delay; the person is late or I arrive early often with some kind of "event" added into the mix. One recent appointment waiting area came with this hyperventilating Fuckwit who was making out that he had a medical problem, and just "needed" to breathe heavily some 4' from me. More bizarre activity around me for what?

Well, an unexpected email and then phone call with a New York Times reporter for two hours after lunch. Talk about from left field; no local rag for me. If only that were true on the job search front. I don't know where this one is going, but the shock shivers from Sharon Weinberger's story in the Washington Post are still reverberating among the TI community; as in getting burned, and not a fair shake. Today, I got to tell my story and I was even left alone to be reasonably coherent and convey it in a sensible chronological order. Usually I get screwed into recalling the story in the wrong order and need to jump around to pull it all together. This time, the story unfolded in near chronological order and hopefully, made sense. A few questions were repeats of many of current weeks; "who do you think is doing this?". I don't know, and sense that it is not the usual alphabet named spy agency as these perps operate across international borders, and can summon the local police as their front men. And the methods are very different, even plain obvious gangstalking tails; CSIS (Canadian CIA equivalent), CIA, RCMP etc wouldn't do this, ever. Never mind the ongoing masers and plasma beams all day long; I don't think these are the methods of a national "material world" spy agency.

Another few questions related to medications and their "result"/coincident events; no TI likes to hear this kind of emphasis, especially as it became the grist of the Weinberger article. Though, I did get enough countering information across, as in the FAQ posting to the right, and hopefully that will stick. It is a very odd situation to be in to convey a complex and curious story on the phone to someone new and cross one's fingers that they don't slay one in print. But let's get real; will the New York Times print an article on targeted individuals who have had their lives raped, for decades in some cases? It is either going to be the real thing, or a total fake-out or a take-out, (one or the other).

I was about to send an email off to the MCActivism on-line group for advice on what to do or say to the reporter, and then the reporter phoned back just before I got the email launched. Curious timing that, especially all the noisestalking over exactly when I send emails at any other time, and here was one ready to go and didn't get sent until I got off the phone. A two hour delay from composition to sending. What can one do, save note the commonality of current events to the past events, and the curious and anomalous nature of the association. I got the impression she wasn't interested in asking too much, though this could be because she hadn't read my blog before, and indicated she got my name from a forum. Whatever, but as I always maintain, there are no coincidences (for me), especially in this scripted existence.

Then it was tea and chocolate after the above interview; the perp's "brown event" for the afternoon. Increased noise, or a near total absence of noise, while handling and eating chocolate is nothing new; it has been going on for years. Though I note that there are more brown color games going on; more brown gangstalking vehicles are "showing up" on the streets, usually with greytone vehicles around it (white, silver-grey, mid-grey and black), and there are more brown plasma games too. Last night they put brown plasma over my black watchband to attract my attention, which it did, and I notice there is brown algae growing on the drain mat for the dishes rack. It used to be red algae that was growing (read, planted) on the drain mat, and now "suddenly" it is a brown colored species. Before the red algae, there was a yellow colored algae growing on the drain mat. And note, I clean it at least once per week, and drain off any excess water each time I remove the dishes from the rack, and "somehow" this algae grows and can even change color. Seems like a fix to me.

Finally, some excitement for the week, this above mentioned interview. And since then, I have been getting the direct-to-mind message about a imminent cessation of perp hostilities. The real answer is to lie down, and these silly stunts will pass in short order. I only mention them for the record, and I would think that regular readers will be familiar with many past like fatuous suggestions. Of course they aren't going to let me go when the entire city is pimped with strange aerials at every street corner, never mind the phalanx of Fuckwits to cater to every subconscious notion that I didn't know about. It doesn't make any sense, along with the recent "interest" in working in Alberta. It is very cold there, and I have never done a winter is such a climate. Even my three years in Nelson, BC had uncharacteristic muted snowfalls and warmer winters. I did once spend Christmas in Coronation, Alberta, and I never knew how cold it could get until there; the fluids in one's nose would freeze inside of the first 10 seconds outside. If someone wanted me to spend a winter there it would of already happened.

I was also busy earlier on the front to get disabled (har, har) benefits for software upgrade courses. This is where the responsible party blew me off with the fact that it was way too much paperwork. Later, I find out that there wasn't, only 9 pp. on-line, and I have re-visited this in an attempt to get this moving for late 2009 and early 2010. The disabled activism folks aren't replying either, so this blatant exercise in circutuitous bureaucracy is another curious bone for me to chew on, all for some sicko's benefit of adding constant barriers to getting anything accomplished. Been there, done that, go piss on your own kind.

I am getting bored again, one of the desired states for me to be in per perp dictate. The attentions of the New York Times has long passed, and I still wonder what this is all about; the mainstream press has avoided stories such as these for decades, and then they suddenly land in my lap without having read my blog? It doesn't make sense, and more intrigues are to follow. Or else the New York Times will be making the news to continue the synchronicity games that plague TI's. You heard it here first.

Not too much going on tonight, save some cleaning up of Bookmarked websites. I learned that the US Food and Drug Administration (FDA) is running an extortion racket to shake down supplement suppliers. Again, my Blogger editor is defeatured, so the entire link to copy/paste is:

I wonder about this link creation defeaturing in Blogger; is it to force others to do the identical thing that I have to in order to place the link, copy/paste? I get noisestalked everytime I make a link, or click on one.

Who knows; a semi-eventful day today given the reporter's interest.

Tuesday, October 28, 2008

Early Pounding

I am on an early shift of sorts; an 0630h get-up with a preceding 40 minutes of created outside traffic noise. There are no thoroughfares of consequence near here, and all are beset with a grid of traffic controls. But judging by the road traffic noise one would think I live next door to a freeway, which I don't. Past pictures in blog postings attest to the nature of the road system around here. Hence, should I go to the balcony window and look for the "source vehicles" of the noise, why, the noise drops off all of a sudden as there aren't many vehicles that can make the noise that I hear, by way of projected means IMHO.

And too, the overhead pounding (12" of concrete and steel) has started up early, has the siren show, now on the third or fourth cascade so far. This must be my retribution for being allowed to get to sleep within 30 minutes on a Monday, a true rarity, though that could signify a change in nightime sleep deprivation regimen. These early mornings make for a late day as a rule because tiredness never comes into play later; it is that amazing new ability to not become tired that has become part of my regular state of the last six years, though "regular" is moot. Or, at least until I get debriefed on the covert machinations one day, should it ever happen. I don't expect it.

These early mornings sometimes signify some significant unplanned event later in the day that will embrace some kind of perp objective theme, though over the last two months the regimen is more about keeping me confined and rev me up over fruitless job searching. That includes acquiring new safety gear that I "thought" (per, planted notion) I was going to need for the bountiful jobs that were said to be availible by my summertime co-workers, or at least, the sane ones. But in this situation, "bountiful" is a state of imposed belief, and lo, if none of the for-sure prospective employers didn't respond to multiple emails and phone calls despite their avowed honorable methods. Back to the reality; it is all about creating futility and noisestalking one's every move and mouseclick to the employment process. I was duly led into at least three variants yesterday; online application with a firm through their website, sending a resume as an attachment to an email, and a straight local phone call. These are only a few of the functional nuances the perps find so fascinating and duly inform me by way of their noisestalking the instant of mouseclicks, reading a new webpage, reading a new section of a webpage and ad infinitum. The phone call that I made to an answering machine was cursed with a new voice variant the assholes decided to give me for that purpose alone. In the course of a day I will experience at least 20 different voice versions, sometimes less than a minute apart, often five seconds or less between voice changes. Hence the provocations and having me rant or yell at the assholes all day long.

And the perp's latest game with crumb and drop placement has hit a new level of banality; the crumb or drop gets smaller with each successive attempt to pick it up or clean it up, going through three iterations of "fumbling" before the planted object is allowed to be dispensed with. I cannot concieve of the mentality of the Fuckwits that thought this one up, but it has "happened" twice now, and is a bona fide harassment method that should remain as the perp pinnacle of anal retentiveness, perversity and juvenility for some time. But if I said for all time, that would be duly eclipsed by something yet more stupid, something I make efforts to avoid.

And I see that the assholes were again reminding me of yesterday's foliage clipping activities. They forced me to take a pee after whacking me in the head with a sharp pain when first reading about a certain new product concerning grey water systems, and when I came back to my chair, why, they placed a 1" section of cedar scales on my chair to the left side. I had been hedge clipping yesterday, and they decided that not only did I need to be inundated with extra hedge clippings for the remainder of yesterday, but today too. Getting rid of these sudden eruptions neccessitates another visit to the garbage can to get rid of it, and in this case, the closest is in the bathroom for an extra back and forth trip. I think we have done this one before, like daily; either me making extra back and forths, or gangstalkers in my proximity making incomprehensible reverse turns in front of me, and sometimes a double reverse turn for a full 360 degree change by way of two 180 turns, differing from a full 360 degree sidewalk spin that I also get treated to. So why didn't the perp sickos promote dancing as part of my social makeup then? Too late now, and the public gangstalker activities look totally beserk to say the least.

And the perps are promoting more attention to their beserkness, as well as promoting the topic of mental health in the public domain. Even Pres. George Bush is getting a psychoanalysis and is being roundly tarred in a news item today, as a sociopath no less, but no link as the Blogger editor is still being crippled with no icons for the features.

The noisestalking is decidedly on top of any time I switch tasks, at the moment of thought conception even, before the webpage change or tab button change as examples. Now, the overhead pounding has started up again, likely because this is the post mealtime high harassment moment. One tortilla slice (brown) and some grapes (deep purple with green insides), and that will do it; more noise for more of the same. I wonder what the afternoon will bring, as it was all about the regular web browsing this morning, advanced by some two hours and begining at sunrise with the E. sun low on the horizon. I have yet to be treated to a W. facing apartment, and I am sure that will happen someday when they have their act together. It is amazing to trace the timing of their activities and note years between the impetus and the planned event.

More reading from In 2 Worlds; the milatiry abduction (MILABS) has plenty of commonality with the gangstalking and harassment activities, and it does make me wonder what the master plan is. The curious thing is that when one adds up abductees, harassees (like me), and potentially all the players who make it happen, including police and military, then it is a significant amount of covert activity that never makes it on the news in this form. And I reckon, much of the news is arranged to aid the perps. Two Asian engineers drowned in an oil settlement pond in northern Alberta about a month ago. Given that the perps have an obsession over brown skinned races and of petroleum products in presenting them both in my proximity on myriads of occasions, could the tragic result of the aforementioned Asian engineers have anything to do with the outcome of perp fuckery? Could do, though I won't go into any more discussion because I just don't know what their agenda is. But I will add that they have been very active noisestalking me as I have typed up this paragraph, the usual tip-off of heightened surveillance interest.

I have noted in past blogs that all the perp obsessions seem to be entirely interdependent in ways that are not concievable to us plebian victims. I have noted other obsessions of theirs (by way of concentrated gangstalking and stunts) such as building egress, brown skin and other races, "bread stalking" (planting bread around me), plastics placement, cripples, wheelchairs, freakish people, concrete, asphalt along with particular colors of red, brown, yellow, orange and avocado green. I have also noted combinations of these too in past gangstalking setups; negros and Asians stalking me when entering and exiting this apartment building, "bread stalkers" when doing the same, plastics being trailed around me by faux vagrants (freakish by my definition), negros on local concrete jobs (twice), native Indian flagwomen/men (brown skin on asphalt), red turbaned East Indian (yesterday) and other like odd juxtapositions of the Unfavored with the perps obsessions. (See Unfavored definition on right under Essential Introductory postings). All I can conclude is that there is one huge experiment going on with ramifications that are so significant that it boggles the imagination, and the perps have saddled me as the leading experimentation subject IMHO.

The overhead vacuuming/whine noise has begun, post crap. Again, the color of brown is like a moth to a flame for the perps. Yesterday when heading out the door I was given a "shit shunting" where some kind of internal movement took place inside me, down there. As mentioned in yesterday's blog, I had three uniformed Fuckwits on door duty for me, at least three more civilian dressed gangstalkers for the next 60' to the intersection, and lo, if there wasn't a deep brown colored UPS van passing through the intersection, presumably in some kind of "brown stalking" role.

More vacuuming overhead. I am getting the red plasma flashes from the sickos; they put one around my tea mug earlier, a nice 1/8" ring of red plasma to "edge enhance" the mug while in my hand. Then some other red flashes when in the bathroom, per above, and some on my left side, presumably to balance out the red on the Logicraft PC Trackman mouse on my right side. Needless to say, they make sure I get plenty pissed about it.

Back to the Opportunities Fund for training for the disabled (me, har, har) to get some upgrade training before joining the workforce. I see a new requirement was inserted into the PDF file; I must now have an assigned case worker to do a needs assessment and then a Return to Work Action Plan before they will cough up and training money, all the while being disabled of course. And then hang out for who knows how long until they approve of it. This looks to be a late 2009 to mid-2010 adventure unless some white knight who knows the system can sponsor me. And give the intense focus on social isolation, the perps definitely don't want anyone doing any favors for me, it might disrupt their impossible quest. Funny how I wasn't informed of any of this when I met the person responsible for the Opportunities Fund two weeks ago. The nine page application form on the web now becomes encumbered with extra process and actors, and surely suggests another year of going through this exercise while it serves some depraved harassment agenda. This should of been begun last year, and it always interesting to reflect on those whose job it is to know this administrative stuff, and somehow, neglected to inform me. This is not new, and doesn't rest with only one player, but at least three of them so far who "forgot" to mention any of this.

More planned vexation, and lo, if the overhead vacuum cleaning noise didn't start up again while I was yelling at the assholes for blanking out another web site I wanted to visit. These are employment related sites, and this entire job application activity seems to become a major project after they suckered me into thinking it was an easy process to find a job after daffodil bulb picking this summer. On with the show, noise and all, and send the resume to all and sundry for yet more dumbshit games for depraved Fuckwits.

Time to call this done for the day; an early one tomorrow with a 0900h interview at a temp agency. I have no expectations as to what might be availible, but it is always good to keep a dialog going, as constrained and scripted as it is. More red flashes.

Monday, October 27, 2008

Ass Planting

This time it is not my ass that is the topic, but that of my tormentors' agents, specifically my mother this morning and a faux louche sitting on that steel box the perp put in against a wall adjacent to the sidewalk back in mid-2006, a few months after I moved in. I will see if I can find it in the pictures somewhere, but I am not opptomistic as these diversons go on for nearly an hour or more. All to the sound of increased noisestalking when I am finally allowed to resume what I had begun.

When I came down the stairs at my parent's place this morning my mother had the dishwasher open for a round of crockery clanging, and had placed herself between the dishwasher door and the counter with her ass backed into the crower for the cutlery. And lo, if I didn't need to get cultery some 20 seconds later as none had been left out for me when they nearly always do leave some, just not a full set, a spoon and an knife is all I need then.

[Break to live action; at least the eighth siren cascade tonight and they nearly always terminate in this neighborhood. Seattle was never this "busy" when I lived there. And this being a Monday night is the high event for the week, harassment, fuckery, and all other abuse].

So when I ventured out later this afternoon after a prodidgious effort in filling out online job applications, the "Force" was in place. Three police like dudes at the front door, one holding it open for me, the other on his radio, and the skinhead posing for me to see this disgusting comportment. Then some 20' along, why a dude just "happened" to be hanging out by sitting on this 30" high steel box that was installed for my benefit it would seem, as I have observed toroidal maser pulses emanating from it. Looking every inch the emancipated near-vagrant with time on his hands, it was quite the little oddity for this downtown residential block. He did the look-away (at nothing) pose with at least a 100 degree twist to his spine in the usual theme of spinning heads that I get in my presence. Some perps/gangstalkers are there to be looked at, apprised as a Fuckwit Criminal, beget my derision and then pass from the scene as I walk by. He was one, but not the only one for my 200' walk to the local supermarket.

Next was the furtive and fidgety Fuckwit standing like some kind of misplaced 60 y.o. cleric with his hands clasped together over his crotch sans Bible, like he couldn't help himself in looking so utterly ill-at-ease. Anyhow, I made sure to divert my attention to thwart the look-at-me intent of this particular gangstalker placement. But the male crotch grabbing sightings have increased of late, the most egregious was this dude turning a corner with one hand slipping into his open fly with a sucker in his mouth and the white stick projecting in from his mouth. And this was conducted as I "happened" to be passing that corner some 8' away, and I presume he tailed me for at least half a block or so before fading into the ether as so many of them do.

And given that it is a Monday, the day of return from the First Feral Family dwelling and my one evening per week of TV, this will continue to be a high noise evening along with the typo sabotage as I attempt to put this blog posting together. Added perp objective events were having me do the hedge trimming after breakfast at my parent's place; I have noted past perp obsession over presenting cut foliage in my proximity, and this was of course a first class event of creating it anew, transporting the cuttings and even wearing some of the clippings on my shirt, even now the odd one "erupts" in the kitchen or bathroom.

More yellings at the assholes for "mouse fucking", that being the PC pointing device in the form of a Logicraft Trackman, (the best), and the thumb ball just "seizes up", all by itself and on demand, especially when I am deeply involved in perp obsession activity like online job applications and resume submissions. I am now convinced that the current dry spell of not getting any responses from this activity, save two that abruptly ended for no apparent reason, is all about having me make applications, put out my resume in many versions and otherwise jerk me around for their continued studies, whatever that maybe, save everything I do. And now some more yellings at the assholes for typo sabotage, as well as sabotage of my error correction abilities so the "error" will run on for longer. That should do it for now, as nearly all my yellings are getting noisestalked, some before the sabotage occurs.

And about three noisy motorcycles per minute tonight, one of the most loathed noises there is in my book. And someone arranges this around me all the time. When headed into the supermarket, after observing the above mentioned crotch covering standee outside, I had a motorized wheelchair leading ahead of me into the store, and another one was coming the opposite direction, both in deep metallic flake red finish, and both with grannies on board doing the driving. If I fucking hate the sight of wheelchairs, why do I have a nightmare navigating around these fucking things that are placed in my proximity far in excess of any normal demographic occurence? And, the wheelchairs were identical models if that wasn't inferred. I suspect the wheelchairs are all about having someone in a seated position nearby, as I had been seated for the prior two hours before heading to the supermarket. Likewise for the excess of motor scooters; the driver is in the seated position as if in a chair, unlike straddling a motorcycle.

More reading of "Chasing Phantoms" by Carissa Conti; the MILAB (Military Abduction) world has many similarities to the harassment and mind control world that I live in all the time, though I haven't yet got my head around invoking the "higher self" or "higher entity" to help me out, and that I have total control on my events and outcomes has yet to be validated. So yes, I have a victim mentality, but I didn't get here by capitulating, but by observation and recalibrating my worldview based on the outcomes that became prevalent. The model holds, though it doesn't give me much of an existence.

No pictures or links again as this Blogger editor is stripped of all its icon command buttons, and I don't want to invoke another round of harassment/hassle by guessing which is what and getting it wrong, only to escalate the rage-ification. There has been plenty of that tonight.

Time to call this one done, and ponder how much sleep I will get for a Monday night.

Sunday, October 26, 2008

Ragging My Ass

It has been that kind of day today; extra harassments and provocations to get me enraged while undertaking mundane tasks. The extra noise, the extra-conventional gravitic movements of objects, head whacking from nowhere, brown colored crumb inundations, spontaneous bleeds while shaving but not from shaving, and the ongoing maser and plasma action in my vision. Now, the typo sabotage.

Whenever these routine dull days get like this it is time to examine what is different; any new augmentations or substitutions often get extra harassments and provocations with instant rage "reactions". After buying and drinking the same coffee for some five years, and purchasing a new kind two days ago and first using it this morning, That might be the reason for extra perp vituperance and vileness. The regular coffee was from Columbia, and this new brand is from Sumatra. And, the typical earthy Sumatra coffee taste was deleted from my palate, as it tasted like the usual Columbian kind. This is a long way of saying that this geographical origin change just might have triggered the current round of rage-ification the perps have imposed upon me. That is all it takes; one change in color tone, food source (provenance or store), packaging, or food substitution and the perps go fucking nuts. Which has led me to the current planted notion that they are indeed insane to be planting brown crumbs around my food, and then a final brown crumb 2' from where I sat after finishing the dishes of the meal. It is just another example of what I have to deal with owing to some high cabal's decision to screw my life as hard as they can after 47 years of covert monitoring and harassment. If you ever have asked the question, "why does it always happen to me?", there an alternate answer; there exists at least one covert agency that has much to gain out of creating duress, chaos, ruination and perturbation, and they have selected some individuals to be their victims for all of their lives. I would never of believed it if someone had told me all this in a prudently metered revelatory manner, and here I am living it at the behest of pathological Fuckwits who lack the gumption to front for their long-running nonconsensual human experimentation. It is as fucking bizarre as it is fucking depraved.

The ongoing motorcycle noise has continued after lunch, and it would seem that the assholes are parsing out the noise into fragments and harmonics to discern why I cannot stand the noise of two cycle large motorcycles, e.g. Harley Davidsons, especially if modified. I don't know why I loathe this noise but someone else is determined to find out by way of incremental exposures, by duration, frequency changes, volume and harmonic combinations. And they have been at this all morning and afternoon like most days, and are especially rabid about making sure I get serial exposure most days of the week. A cover story doesn't matter anymore, just keep the noises going.

This will be a short post today as I am doing the usual parental Sunday visitation, and will be duly gangstalked at their place with my father doing the most irritating and blatant gangstalkings, though he will back off if I get enraged about certain moves. That they are perp abetting is an understatement as it appears they gave me up for this fuckery from the get-go and have been fully participative in all the residential moves and abusive stunts that have gone down over the years. Though, I do think some of the family events have been unexpected to them at the time, and they were likely duly mind-fucked at to attributing it to their asshole overseers at the time. This "happens" to me often; I process an event at face value by imposed mind-fuck/manipulations when in fact, I would (now) nearly always attribute it to a perp stunt and ponder what category of fuckery does it stun fall under and how it may related to other like stunts. Only some hours or days later do I "reconsider", aka get let in on the real source and purpose, and come to know it was my tormentors at work again.

Likewise for other news in which I am not involved, but encounter from various sources such as online websites, newspapers and magazines. I see a lot of commonality of world events to that of this ringside seat at the perps' perverse quests; color, substance, interpersonal and material interactions in all possible forms of energetics, bioelectromagnetic and etheric. The latter form of energy is a bit of a stretch in terms of our current understanding of physics, though there is a significant body of work to indicate that there is another form of all encompassing energy, that being the accepted comoslogical "dark energy" that is somehow excepted here on planet Earth. Why else would the gangstalkers be all over me in public, and desparately want to stand or walk where I have just vacated, which is especially prevalent where I am changing direction, say at pedestrian crossing. And too, adding in various red, green and brown colors at this anisotropic moment, along with gangstalkers grabbing their crotch, having their mouths hanging open or otherwise exposing their mouth contents by eating food while perambulating. Turning a corner was never too complicated of an event before, but here we have a professional Fuckover Force dedicated to capturing this moment in significant and imperceptable detail that must be remotely detected. Engaging me in a cooperative manner isn't allowed no matter how expeditious it would be; instead, let's harass and rile the victim up for over six years every mortal second of his existence, and plod along with remote energetics detection instead of by direct means. And that includes having our operative "bump into" the victim as needed. It is fucking insane premise, and yet they have all their quislings and operatives convinced as to the worth of this incremental life-rape. And don't get me started on their seeming long ago fuckups that let to this state of affairs, as it would take another hour of blogging to adequately excorciate the assholes over this one. In other words, they created many of the operational problems in early childhood that they are attempting to elicit a response for with the current freakshow of gangstalkers.

Another round of serial motorcycle and other loud mufflered vehicle noise kept going while I was entering my personal data for online job registration. It makes looking for work so much easier than the old ways, though it is impersonal and one doesn't get the feedback one would ordinarily get face to face.

Then an increased barrage of noise erupted while eating chocolate with my tea, and more rage-ification games later to get me riled up. The experiences above were repeated effectively. I am going to call this one a posting, short as it is, and that way it gets done instead of being another forced "forget".

Saturday, October 25, 2008

Shaving With Masers

I am being "stunned out" as to what to title this posting, and it would seem that it is all about having me start blogging first, and titling it later. This is the level of constant disruption I deal with. Even going to the correct cupboard for an item gets fucked with in this manner. I am not even allowed to look at the item I am after but get my attention redirected to something irrelevant, and then switched again after grasping the unintended item. It is fucking insane to treat anyone like this, never mind it being the culmination of six years of overt harassment, and 47 years of covert scripting and a stage managed existence.

The title reads correctly, as masers are my companions while using a razor blade to shave. The plasma and maser action has been nearly constant all morning; I constantly have them appearing in advance and over an object I am about to grasp, and then over the location of where it was after being picked up. I have masers consistently arising from me as I stand in front of the mirror shaving, mostly emanating as vertically oriented blackish wisps about 4" to 6" long, coming off me at the location I am about to shave, and then sitting just over top of the razor while making the shaving strokes. Then they dissipate into the ether, aka thin air, or the "vacuum" as some would call it. The most masered shaving areas are my right cheek (where I first start), my right neck, and then armpits (last location) which are shaved every day now, continuing the new "habit" that began just over a year ago. My armpits are also a perp obsession, especially with clothing color interaction, hence the recent number of gangstalking women wearing poncho style clothing. When at the supermarket two days ago, and grinding the coffee beans at the machine there, a multi-toned brown poncho wearing woman was walking around me, and back again, and then around me again, making at least three sorties so to be seen from each side more than once. And note, given the perps' preoccupation with the color of brown, and all things that have an association including the local sewer system (rebuilding some 400' of it with twin pipes), this was not entirely unexpected.

The vocational notions of the past month, most of them planted, have reached some "clarity", as in further planted thoughts, albeit with some rational "feel-goodness". (In these circumstances, anything can be made to be rational). The IT intentions are now nixed, following the notions of moving to Edmonton, Alberta, and also the heavy equipment operator training. I note that there was a plastics plant explosion in Edmonton (no links, the Blogger editor is still being defeatured), and that might be the extent of the recent Edmonton focus that came out of the blue in the form of a recruiter who has oddly stopped communication. I have never had a recruiter stop calling until the deal was either over or done, so it strikes me as odd that this has "happened" twice in one week.

On this topic of vocational aspirations, the perps have also introduced the notion of doing more temp work, and it is likely that this will be their chosen vocational harassment method for the next year I reckon. They couldn't handle me working for more than three days in succession on the daffodil bulb picking work this past summer, so I cannot envision them letting me go to an office location anytime soon. Temp work would seem to be the most likely way to keep me bouncing around an outdoor jobsite and around town. Which is what I knew all along, except that these absurd notions of greater vocational glory get planted for a few days at a time, and then are allowed to pass, often to another round of planted nonsense from the sickos. But, one can never say never. If there is one consistent general theme, is that they like me to revisit past arrangements, be it IT work (Oracle DBMS, GIS), office work, and other managed stunts of the long past. Though to be fair, the daffodil bulb picking work was a "never before", but the perps' obsession with bulb botany wasn't new, as they like to place garlic skins in my apartment and fridge (when I have garlic bulbs), and have encouraged recent garlic consumption, and even stole one bulb from the ones I bought during September's excursion to the Okanagan.

I had my regular Saturday national newspaper read this afternoon to the near continuous noise of loud mufflered vehicles, motorcycles and heavy vehicles. I have at least one hand busy holding the newspaper, and so it is a perfect time to lay on the extra noise as placing one's fingers in the ears is not that doable in those circumstances. The perps like me to read the obituaries, and had an excellent piece on Prof. Connie Rooke, someone I was not aware of until today. She had a seminal hand in promoting Canadian literature since the 1970's, ironically as an American. But whatever, and at the moment I wrote her name down on my nearby scratchpad, the overhead pounding noise started up. Regular readers will know that this is humanly infeasable as it is 12" of ceiling/floor steel reinforced concrete. What the perps seem to be looking for is some kind of connection to her via me reading the obituary to me writing her name down afterward. The story is here for cutting and pasting this address into your browser as this Blogger is still defeatured without any identifiable commands.

And while composing the above paragraph another round of noise started up. I don't get it; I never knew of her, though as it happens, or "happens", depending on the degree of conspiratorial belief one has, she taught at the University of Victoria when I attended one year ther before splitting to The University of British Columbia in Vancouver to go into the Forestry Faculty there. As far as I know, I never even saw her, and my first year English course was a midterm bail-out situation where I took a remedial writing course for the latter term. So while all the (current) faux water running noise sounds off, the faux neighbor clunking noise continues and the outside loud mufflered vehicle noise continues, I never met her, and had no further association with academic literature.

I have had written expression problems all my life, and slowly by about 30 y.o. I started getting better. It does lead me to wonder why I had the problem in the first place and how anyone's primative writing skills could change at that age. And of course I don't the answer to that one, as some covert agency has been conducting neurological sabotage on me since birth, and I cannot rightly claim to know what was normal development and what brain circuits got messed with. And the ongoing coordinated freakshow of gangstalkers suggests that the fuckers are still attempting to figure out that one for themselves, as there seems to be subconscious recollections that they are attempting to elicit, especially with respect to colors. Though, word processors have been a godsend for me in writing, even if it is descriptive like this blog. I did my first paper on a mainframe word processor in 1977, and have always attempted to use computers for that capability ever since.

The eveningtime tea and chocolate break is over, and the perps got me plenty riled up beforehand. And to the accompanyin sounds of varying faux neighbor water usage, I had my chocolate. But that wasn't good enough, so they put a chocolat crumb under my fingertip to then create the "response" of yelling at the assholes with my mouth full of chocolate and some in my hand. The fingertip jabbing and crumb sensations have increased of late, and they are getting very blatant about it. The soap bar in the shower magically erupts with sharp little crumbs on it to create the sensation and then to piss me off. Similarly, the bedding underneath the pillow has erupted in crumbs that get jabbed into my fingertips when lying down, though in this latter case I suspect it is all created by artificial sensation as there are no crumbs there. I get at least 50 to 100 fingertip jabbings in any given day, and at least another 100 to 200 fake touches elsewhere on my arms, hands, feet etc.

And I see one of my confreres is blogging again, Rachael O of On Gangstallking. her lament of not being able (or, allowed) to produce artwork brings back memories. I too have suffered from imposed creativity loss as I once was keen about drawing and then got sucked into some kind of morass later, to be followed by a certain indifference. All before 12 years of age, and my father won competions in drawing at that age, and here was I getting creativity sucked out of me. Or, at least, that is the way I read it, and it is clear in this hyper-harassment world that competence isn't allowed. Ever. Or, not until the assholes have finished their energetic decomposition of this facet of human capability. Similarly, my efforts to upgrade my learning about Oracle DBMS have been obstructed as noted in yesterday's blog posting. Here is the cut and paste link, as linking is still fucked with in this here Blogger.

More reading of Chasing Phantoms by Carissa Conti; she is very direct about mind controlling technology application to her at various junctures in dealing with the "Thems". Link below.

Friday, October 24, 2008

Blog Software Gets Spoofed

As I write this, I see that the tool bar for the Blogspot has been emptied of all its features such as italics, bolding, link making, indentation, picture insertion, font size and the rest of them. I have no idea, but it "happens" plenty. My page has the buttons missing, and when I want toput a book in my Wish List, (a defacto bookmark, something of high perp interest), why, all I do is slide the mouse to where the Wish List button used to be, click, and a box of the size of the button comes up, and lo, the book gets Wish Listed. And as I wrote this, I had three loud motorcycle noise, a bus noise, hallway noise, ongoing fridge compressor noise, overhead squeaking and brake squealing from outside.

I went to a temp agency earlier by bus and had my crew of Fuckwits around me, and one that got off with me even. That is becoming routine, and was the first of three serial male gangstalkers in jeans and a black top, shirt or jacket. And identical to what I was wearing. Then when leaving, the city was flicking fertilizer prills on the boulevard and onto the sidewalk too, all for me to walk over and then past. At the busiest intersection in town, Hillside and Douglas for locals, I a black haired dude loiter behind me while waiting at the light, who then walked a whole block behind me in this pedestrian-rare section, who then came and loitered at the same bus stop I did. And to complete his skein of weirdness, the bus comes and stops in front of him, some 3' from the curb, he looks at me as if to convey I should go first, so I do, and then he doesn't get on the freaking bus after all this bullshit. That he was in his light blue dress shirt and packing his black coat all the time (taking it off when he was hanging behind me at the pedestrian traffic controk), was relatively incidental. I cannot believe the number of Fuckwits who find the bus schedule as posted at the bus stop to be so interesting that they spend five minutes or so reading it and nothing else. He as another, except that he stayed around instead of walking off like they usually do.

Anyhow, I will see how this temp labor thing goes; the work situation has been highly constrained it would seem, and even shoo-in jobs for at least an interview aren't happening. There is a forestry seedling propagation firm in town that needed laborers and so I applied online. For over two weeks now I have not heard from them, and I would think that a forestry trained laborer would be a coup, but for whatever reason it isn't the response I expected. Then I had a phone call today from a local firm who spotted my resume on, and it seemed to be about wanting me to tell the story again, as to how all this began. Then he says something like, "come on, were your getting stressed out?". No, I wasn't getting stressed out enough to leave my job, I was getting these insufferable head pains so I couldn't work, and I couldn't do anything else except drive around Puget Sound all night with clusters of vehicles behind me which would send one vehicle past me to the cluster ahead of me at 0100h to 0600h in the morning. Other metallic objects also gave me temporary relief from this targetted beam, and one time I felt the beam coming on and then moved and the woman behind me (likely an operative) got beamed instead and flinched and squirmed. Anyhow, I told the recruiter this, and he claimed to be privy to various government black operations, though I did not ask if he had heard about this one. The reality being that he wouldn't of phoned if it weren't for him being directed to do so and the conversation scripted. The perps like me to tell the story, and I suppose the recruiter angle is just another version of this same front that they want to explore.

Ms. C of the story also heard this story, and still maintained I was making it up, that it was of organic origin. Funny how she wanted me to tell the story about an operative getting beamed instead of me, and it makes me wonder if it was her in morphover. I had forgotten this vignette of the crazy harassment days of 2002, until I mentioned it to the recruiter, above. Which suggests that the perps likely control my recall, as it is one of the more convicing details that I had always "forgetten" to tell the doctor at the time. Not that he was persuadable anyways, it was all about jerking me into hospital to be gangstalked by the putative patients. And too, it seemed to be all about the perps wanting me to be in the same scenario for which I have subconscious traumatizations from the "lost years', aged 3 to 5. Or at least, that is what the perps want me to believe; the gangstalking freakshow relates to their fuckery then with applied recall depletion, except from my subconscious. Not my problem, so why am I being hounded for over six years about someone else's fuckup? You can be sure that the subconscious traumatization recollections are getting in the way of whatever else they have planned for me, because why else would they do this? I wasn't even aware of my subconscious aversions, let alone unrecalled traumatizations. If I don't like the colors of brown, red and orange, why am I being pursued by them?

A new round of sabotage on this PC; slowing up the relatively benign select, copy, paste and bookmark commands. Haven't we done this already? At least a few thousand times, and still the assholes are at it. I have a Pentium Dual Core CPU and still the assholes are making it to be the PC, not them. End of that activity after tea and chocolate before going online. Having brown food in one's tummy is a sure harassment moment, and all the better that I am screaming at the assholes. At least, from their perspective, as that is what they want and the action finally "happens" in mid-rant, more often than not.

More bullshit; I went to the Oracle downloads site to load it up and start learning and I am getting blocked, twice. A security error, and then a spoofed webpage to stop the agreement acceptance. So much for this, which happened in the same circumstances in 2004. They won't let me download Oracle database software or tools. It is extremely vexing to say the least.

The light is being dimmed as I type, and the overhead clunking noise has started up. I switched on two apartment lights to alleviate the dimness, and this is also getting the overhead clunking treatment. It is not yet dusk, but it seems that the light levels are being managed to simulate it. No reprieve from this nonsense at any time of the day.

The clunking overhead continues, "somehow" getting through the hearing protection that I am wearing. This pre-dinnertime is the perp silly moment of the day, and I wouldn't be surprised if I got a phone call soon. This ongoing constraint of jobs, software downloads and the rest of what I get to do is getting to be a major hassle. They won't let me read a single item for more than five minutes, they they step up the noise and re-direct my attention elsewhere, making the reading task pointless.

I was scripted for a 40 minute nap before dinner and that was one of the rare times the nap length was "normal", except that I had no need for a nap. It was the progressived tiredness when being online that created the "need".

I went to the local supermarket about an hour and a half ago, and what an almighty event that was for gangstalking. I had two young women in the elevator, heading out, no big deal. Then at the building's front door there were three gangstalkers on the other side of the glass (outside) with one of them doing the "hold the door" stunt, almost like a doorman. Except that he was in the doorway, native Indian, and with a large gut that the perps directed my attention to see. As this "egress gangstalking" isn't anything new, I kept on going past him. That made a temporary two gangstalkers behind me (the elevator women), and three in front of me, one of them standing in the doorway with it partially ajar.

Then I was onto the street to the supermarket when a dude in a red hoodie cut me off momentarily, and just when I look to examine his sanity, he gives me a quick stare. Then onto the grocery store, and just when I was to get to the chocolate, why, if a negro in a silver-grey bicycle helmet doesn't get in ahead of me and lead me to the chocolate display on the shelves. Then he proceeds on to then "arrive" ahead of me when I get to the tortillas. One final last brown colored food item was to get the breakfast cereal and then to the checkout. I got a red haired woman cashier with a blonde standing behind her, the Unfavored and the Favored hair styles. (See the Summary of the Favored and Unfavored under Essential Introductory Postings to the right, as my Blogger editor is still spoofed with no link button).

And upon exiting there were two well timed dudes coming at me to force a much wider arc to return back to my apartment, and then in the parking lot, mysteriously wetted from no apparent source, why, the police van "showed up" for the occupants to do their shopping it seemed, as there wasn't any business purpose for them to be there. One of them was a doppelganger for one of the swimmers I knew from the Victoria Masters Swim Club, someone who was a perpetual student for some five or more years, and I always wondered about his income source. I have since seen him in the last few years on the street as a pedestrian, and we haven't bothered to say much, as the planted mindset I am given is that he is indeed one of "them", and a fucking sick asshole in doing so.

I had my Asians in Blue (a hoodie) exiting from the elevator when returning from grocery shopping, and that racial profile seems to be common of late in this apartment building's lobby. It was only a few days ago that the same Asian male was gangstalking me in the lobby, twice in one day, as in two "happenchances". Suffice to say, the building lobby is a hotspot of brown skinned races "needing" to expose themselves in various colored clothing.

I am getting the hallway chat noise again, often outside my door, and I think I will call this one done for the day. My mind-keepers want me to feel put-upon tonight, having skunked me from making any progress with downloading Oracle database software onto my PC for educational purposes, and in doing so, adding yet more FUD into the vocational aspirations/next scripted gig. (That is, Fear Uncertainty and Doubt, said to be the IBM credo in customer relations). I heard from one recruiter today, who was going to get someone to call back, and who didn't. The first recruiter who had an Edmonton job hasn't called back in two days, so it seems that the software vocational prospects are getting nixed along with the imposed impairment of self-study efforts. The work and vocational efforts seem to be a big jerkaround for the perps to put on extra noisestalking while reading jobs online, as well as for resume composition and submission. All to keep me vexed it seems, just where they want me if not stressed even more.

Thursday, October 23, 2008

Another Run Down Attempt

That is, if I hadn't stopped walking when crossing a side street, I would have had my legs taken out. I was on my way to yoga, and in mid-street walking across a sidestreet that meets a main thoroughfare, an uncontrolled crossing. The driver had had seen me, but made the left turn in any event, a swooping wide arc that put her vehicle into the opposite lane even while looking at me in her way, not bothering to stay in right hand drive mode and go behind me. I get at least one of these a week, and today was the most egregious. A granny driver, cum operative I suspect, and she wasn't too surprised about the whole deal. But as I was the first student to arrive at yoga when I am nearly always the last one, no matter how early I come, at least one of the four women who came later just might have been in morphed over form as the driver, and then get transformed in shape, face and hair appearance to participate in yoga. All to have me get excited over being run down with a white vehicle, only a short block from the yoga venue. The perps had me yell at the woman driver, the same stock (or stalk?) phrase I am saddled with at my apartement, "what are you doing?". I distinctly felt myself being compelled to say this, as I never make a public exhibition of myself no matter what.

If that wasn't strange enough, one of the yoga class participants "decided" to set up their mat directly behind me, that being this ditzy UK accented "bread stalker" woman. She was the one waving a loaf of bread in a plastic bag to the class members about six months ago, offering it to us and saying that she had too much bread. And she comes so infrequently that no one knew her, so it is most odd IMHO to be offering free groceries to class members after the class. Today, she got into further strangeness by cleaning her mat before the class started, (for the noise I suspect) and keeping 2' of paper towel on her mat the entire time. And then orienting her mat to point toward the instructor like everyone else does also wasn't done, but instead, she had her mat at right angles to mine, after forcing me to move mine, per instructor's request. Talk about a total disruptor, and being the Fuckwit du Jour.

And the woman class member who said she was going to spend the winter in Arizona "next weeK" came back again. She has said her goodbyes twice now, and there she was again. She too had to augment this strange behavior of having paper towel over her yoga mat, making it one behind me (above woman), and this latter woman in front of me, behind the instructor. Both had the same deep burgundy colored yoga mat, and who knows, perhaps they were morphovers of two regulars who weren't there today. The yoga class was good, and looking at the dishy instructor was even better.

After the above mentioned driving the vehicle in my path stunt, the next block had another interesting cluster of gangstalkers, a multicultural tour if you will. At least 10 persons walking in a group of various races; Asians, Caucasians and a negro. They were about 30' ahead of me in a loose cluster, maybe 10' long. As soon as I got close they stopped and some walked in the opposite direction toward me, pretending to look at something down the street, the usual "look at nothing" act. In the course of this, they all ended up strung out in file, and some doing the sidewalk block jerkaround, and pretending to be considerate at the last second and got out of my way. I find these "walking groups" to be most odd, especially in residential areas, and even more odd is how they can coordinate their behavior to adopt more perp desireable configurations, being strung out in file. That was the final rude stunt before I got to the yoga venue, noting that they recently had (within the week) new asphalt paving down on their parking area, and new line painting as well. Regular readers will know of the perps ongoing obsession over asphalt and petroleum products, and this was just another, "happening" outside the yoga classroom.

I don't know always why the perp get into intensified wierdness with extra disruptive Fuckwits in public, but I suspect that wearing my new Sugoi shirt today just might have been the exciting part for them. Though, it is mostly black colored with some mid-grey panels under my arms, the very kind of color combinations and color placement that the perps like for their own gangstalkers. I also did my laundry earlier today, before heading out to yoga, and perhaps there were some residual energetics associated with that activity which the perps were attempting to detect by remote means. Regular readers and most TI's will know that the perps have an obsession over laundry, and even have my out-of-town brother owning and running two commercial laundries. Naturally, they get into other stunts like introducing excessive lint to force relaundering the same clothes, or at least, a subset of interest. I had to get two items drycleaned to finally get the lint off them some three weeks ago.

I made a 10 minute round trip to get my altered new underwear picked up. These are the storied ones that I was compelled to get via Sierra Trading Post, a discount clothing, outdoor and home accessories store. But as they are high waisted, some 7", I had them altered to remove 2.5" and the waistband put back on. It was $10 per pair, and lo, if she didn't run out of black thread and have to use an olive green on the inside of one pair. I was gangstalked up the asshole nearly on this junket; an elevator buddy, then two outside the apartment, then three converging from three different directions and then "hanging out" together by jaywalking ahead of me. Once I was following them some 60' back, why they split apart with one reversing his path in parallel to meet his buddy jaywalking and then the two of them reversed direction and paralleled me, they still on the street. Another of the threesome stayed in place before they split apart, and the lastmost of the threesome kept walking onward. I had another two of them on me in climing one flight of stairs, and was finally inside the alterations shop. I have never seen such a disparate group act in such a coordinated manner, engaging in their buzzing around me.

When exiting the alterations shop I had another two on me, one tailing, the other oncoming up the stairs in LH drive mode again. Then at least three more before I got to the intersection, and then another two weirds coming at me before I got to my apartment. At the door was a couple who were entering the building, and once at the door, why a weird plus another from a few days ago "happened" to be returning from a garbage trip owing to the garbage chute being "broken", so I had two couples on me, one ahead and one behind. The first couple held the elevator for me, and the tail elected to visit his mailbox instead. So, when I was about to get out, why, and elevator rusher was coming at me, an operative that doesn't respect normal elevator etiquette of letting any passengers out beforet hey get in. This fucker was some 6" from me when I passed by getting out of the elevator while he was getting in, and most strangely he was looking elsewhere in some kind o zombie mode. I was glad to get back after all that, and lo, if the sirens didn't start up when pulling the new underwear from the bag and folding them. Never has there been so much attention to freaking underwear before, and these ones of an acrylic fabric are superior to the cotton kind as they don't get soggy when working out.

The alterations shop kept the spare fabric from the underwear, and she did ask me if I wanted it and said no. Though I am sure that was the perps' need, but whatever, I would throw it out in any event. All the regular undewear has been pitched in the garbage, and it will no doubt "mellow" for a week or so before it gets taken out. The alterations seamstress did return the original vinyl packaging with the cardboard inserts, and I am sure this was important for some reason too, given the perp's obsession with plastics, and especially PVC.

The visitation to get my underwear alterations was the second trip there today, as it "happened" she did not take debit cards when I stopped by after yoga class, so I had to return with a check which was OK. It was then she showed me the job she did, and it looked very professional, just as if they had been made that way, apart from the one olive green stitch on the inside of one pair. For the last two months the perps have being playing extensive erection games in the night, while wearing one pair of the older set of the same kind and color of underwear. I assume that they will continue these games in the night, just with the altered underwear in place. I have no idea as to what this is about, and perhaps the perp-given term for an erection, "meat aerial", has some relevance. Who knows, and me least of all.

I got an electric like shock to my left foot while viewing a picture of Angelina Jolie in a fim role as part of the promotional images. (Wasn't fleshy). She was in a coat and a hat for chrissakes, and the assholes gave me this shock in my foot, then raised my leg to have the knee contact and move the keyboard tray and keyboard. They kept at it for a few seconds longer, still continuing with the shock treatment. That created some yelling at the assholes, though I don't ever expect that they listen to me, it is just that they want me to vocalize, using the same tired script they have given me for some years now.

The recruiting activities went south today; the recruiter from Edmonton hasn't emailed or phoned, and the outfit to whom I sent my resume yesterday didn't reply to my query when the spoofed webpage didn't appear to take my application. The latter being the second time this has "happened" in town, now two for two.

Another round of ranting at the online games the perps are up to. It is resume sabotage time again, and they continue to spoof the webpages, eliminate command buttons, and keep sucking needed information out of the entry page, all to create yet more go-arounds in filling all the desired fields. Another trick was to piss with the error trapping software by having all fields as erroneous when there would of only been a few at best. And they even put a resume online for me back in August to create even more contention as I was attempting to upload anew. Someone, put a private resume in under my email address on Aug. 10, and then had a resume from October inserted. Some trick that, as I didn't get going on the resume thing until after Sept. 22, and I had to get it from the stack of diskettes that I have, and to get a USB 3.5" diskette reader to do so. Freaking bizarre, and it all seemed to be about making me go through at least three rounds of attempted resume upload and/or update to then "find" that I (they, in fact), had already registered back in August. As always, I got plenty of noisestalking while entering my personal details; overhead pounding, hallway voices, outside road traffic noise and the usual suspects.

I am reading Carissa Conti's second book, Chasing Phantoms, ( and it very interesting that hers, and other abductees have many common experiences. Check it out, and buy it if you can. Me, this is one broke month and no work to speak of, only these promising leads and then no communication. I get to try another round tomorrow, actually meeting in a casual labor office.

While reading Chasing Phantoms I had the earmuffs on to keep out these faint noises the perps like to annoy me with, and at a certain confluence when she referenced greys, meaning alien entities, there was an additional confluence of noises at that point. An overhead thudding noise made it through the hearing protection, another clunk from the kitchen and a forced yawn at that point.

Time to call this one done for the day; I see my Blogger editor commands have been blanked out again, hence no links being added like I planned.

Wednesday, October 22, 2008

Altered Vision State

I am in a state of constant vision impariment after visiting the optometrist earlier. He gave me the drops in the eyes that dilate one's pupils and warned me of vision problems for the next few hours. Naturally, my harassment pals find this to be the perfect moment to augment my vision with their impairments that are normally only transitory. And in not having this done before, I have no comparisons to make. My eyes are perfectly healthy the optometrist says, though he never did ask about seeing "abberations" and the maser and plasma show that I ordinarily see all day long.

I took the bus there and back, and had my city bus freakshow with me, and even getting off and on at the same stops as I did. And one of the optometrist "patients" als "happened" to be hanging around me at the bus stop and then boarded th same bus as I did, sitting behind intervening glass, just as she was similarly arranged and encroaching at the bus stop. These fuckers have a long way to go if this is where they are at, placing their black coated Fuckwits partially behind glass, and partially directly seen. I also got a red-haired male freak next to me in the seat, with his pigtail draped at the front of his head and held down in some fashion. I made sure to look at this Fuckwit the least, but the perps made out he was bumping into me when he wasn't, just more of the faked touches again. And lo, if he didn't "need" to get off at the same bus stop as I did and precede me out the door and in the same walking direction for some 60' or so.

And there are some new and interesting tests at the optometrist that flash light in one's eye so to take a picture of the back of the retina. Naturally this was exploited to have an after effect of red plasma in full view for at least 30 seconds or more. The other eye had a similar green plasma after effect. Or, to be fair, that is my perp-intrusion take on it, but as this was the first time I had this device, I assume that it was in fact my mind-keepers playing games, though it could of been totally legitimate.

I see that the vocational interest activity has waned; I don't know what is transpiring with the recruiter as I have not recieved a call or email today, leaving this Edmonton prospect indeterminant. Which just might be the way it is supposed to work. I note the perps have kept me away from doing online Oracle studying on my own for some five years now, so it is curious as to what their plans are in this respect. I got plenty of noisestalking when looking at the Oracle website last night and bookmarking promising pages for software download. It was at least three years ago that they stopped an Oracle database software download in progress and wouldn't let me load it up. End of my interest until this past week, which really means, this is the planned juncture as to its reintroduction into my activities. I always wondered why I would purchase software books and never read them; it was frustrating to say the least, but now I know; it is all part of this imposed constrained exposure to nearly any topic, even for vocational purposes. This entire harassment has this limited exposure model at its basis; I am not allowed to know any more than prescribed, and only in incremental portions that are metered at a very slow pace. And if I am getting too knowledgeable, why, the assholes can remotely dither or scramble me to have me relearn, or even give up. This is the heavy duty harassment that one cannot discern as I have been hobbled with certain learning disabilities from the get-go, as documented in school-wide tests in 1960 and 1962.

This looks to be a busier week for once; I will have had an outing every weekday. On Friday, two days from now, I get to meet someone from the employment agency that is taking my application as a laborer seriously instead ofthelitany of those not returning calls or emails. Where this is leading I don't know, but as I reported in yesterday's blog posting, there are parallel vocational aspirations in progress. Hopefully something can get started as the optometrist visit was $95, and no provision for us low income folks to get a reduced rate. The new eyglasses, should they come to pass, will be another hit, and I won't get into how much bifocal lenses or progressive lenses are.

A sudden overhead loud pounding noise erupted with a simultaneous zapping which pissed me off enough to scream at the assholes. This happened concurrently with clickin on the mouse button to back up my Mozilla Bookmarks, the all important place that I launch most of my browsing from.They pulled this shit last night after I got into bed; at least 30 minutes of pounding and one resounding one with the fucking zapping. Have I said how much I hate getting zapped? One of the PC's hard drive is making a ticking noise, even if there is no disc access at that moment. This might only be a noise only stunt, or else a harbinger for taking out a hard drive. One never knows for sure; though, the perps have had me looking at solid state drives lately, but they aren't yet availible for retail.

I am getting the restless legs, which surely must be remotely invoked, as I never had this problem before. I was forced into yet another pee, and then settled into a web page on shipping container architecture. This brought on all kinds of leg jabbing and knee torquing torture along with a seeming parade of loud motorcycle noise with the odd bus noise interspersed with it. I don't know what the excitement is about shipping containers for the perps, but it goes way back when driving the Victoria - Seattle route as I did every weekend for three and a half years. 1999 to 2002. (I just went through a screaming rage imposition in "reponse" to the perps fucking the mouse action; there is something important to them about the topic of shipping containers if I wasn't already convinced). Almost every driving trip had a cluster of 20 to 40 shipping containers on trucks which I took to be normal I-5 commercial traffic between Seattle and Vancouver. And I see that shipping containers have been "showing up" locally to temporarily house the electrical panels for the construction of nearby condominium tower. Perhaps this might relate to the fact that the perps are also consumed by shipping palettes and "need" me to be inculcated to them in some psychic way.

With all these building (one) and renovation projects (two) in the vicinity of this apartment building, I cannot see that the perps would send me to Edmonton. Or, it might be for a short stint, one that folds prematurely and causes me to come back here again. I am really curious about the perp moves for the next six months or so, especially as it relates to earning a living, if that comes to pass. I currently am "disabled" which frees me up from employer sponsored harassment; but I sense they want to introduce working back into my life. The past summer's daffodil bulb picking was an introduction to working, and it was clear that the assholes couldn't handle me working for more than three days in succession, and always somewhere different each day as a rule. It is hard to know what they got in mind as plans for me; I sense they have at least two more years of life-rape to continue with, and that they need this infrastructure of former ripped up streets, building renovations and all the other goings on to keep studying me. Don't forget that they had their "service truck" doing sewer "examinations" the first day I was back from the September week long excursion, and yes, they did make me take a shit the first day back, it being a Monday when they are about 95% for having me engage in that aspect of their energetics study of me.

I am getting a severe amount of web page display problems today, especially if it is a regularly visited site. It is like they want me to see the page in small fragments as its

Another round of attempted resume submission and various spoofed versions of the web pages to totally confuse me, defeat the submission process and invoke another screaming rage show over this fuckery. They removed command buttons off of web pages making navigation problematic, and also removed a vertical scroll to prevent me using the page, to then forced another Firefox tab opening for getting the web address from another site. The submission fucked up because I was already registered with the site, and this was caused by the submit button going missing in the first instance. It is totally insane for anyone to be treated like this, never mind the mentality of the assholes who have kept this up for over six years now.

Getting back to earlier today when headed for the bus stop; am I the only person who gets vehicles driving on the sidewalk in front of them? This wasn't the first time, but a mid-grey Volvo 244 made a right turn into a driveway of a convenience store parking lot, and instead of making the turn (crossing in front of me), they pulled in parallel ahead of me on ths sidewalk portion and then sat the Volvo there for me to walk around. Then they backed up to cover the walking path I had been taking until I walked around them. And I don't suppose it was any coincidence that it was a Volvo, the vehicle make and model line that I owned from 1990 to 2006, a silver grey 245 (wagon, the 244 being the 4 door sedan). Other preceding events were a distant siren show, and a swarm of Fuckwits around me (fore and aft), way too many "passers by" for 0940h in the morning.

I recall a similar incident way back when in my teenage years, except that I was in the vehicle as a passenger. My thought-to-be best friend was driving and "somehow" there was no fuel at the accelerator and so to relieve potential traffic jams behind him, he pulled over onto the sidewalk. I forget how long we spent before an "expert" came along and helped us, but it was at least 30 minutes.

I get vehicles crossing in front and behind me all the time, often within a few feet, at side streets and driveways, but until now, never a Fuckwit stopping on the sidewalk. They are taking longer to make their left or right turns from exiting a parking lot nowadays, keeping the vehicle sitting over the sidewalk broadside and facing me. If this is where the assholes are at, pissing around and driving over top of where I have walked, and only testing in parallel to my walking direction instead of the usual transverse (crossing my path), they have a very long way to go. It will be at least two more years of fucking around.

And am I the only one who gets the matress treatment? These are individuals packing a matress on the street, the sidewalk in this case, and seeming unconnected to a cover story, say, a moving van outside an apartment. This was at the first intersection I crossed when headed to the bus stop earlier, and was outside a restaurant for chrissakes. Then another matress parked near a dumpster one block further, no one carrying it. And one last item on this much storied trip to the bus stop, two males, seemingly independent "just standing there" outside the tire shop, looking totally stupid and dumbstruck, and then one turning and began walking ahead of me, the typical "lead ahead" gangstalking that is alway so easy to conduct as they know where I am going.

A good hour was spent troving through Carissa Conti's web links; [link here -my blog editor buttons have all been cleaned out -] worth a look for the TI's who see much commonality with the abduction experiencers and other conspiracy minded perceptions, largely because they get a dose of "it (news, history, evolution, social issues, etc.) is not what it seems" every day. The perps like to remind me of that most historical interpretations have certain unsaid aspects to them that make greater sense in the fold of being a TI and its exposure to many strange events and synchronicities.

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

Multiple Threads on the Go

I spent the better part of the morning on the phone with the recruiter from Edmonton, though with an Indian email domain, and attempting to exchange emails which "turned out" to be impossible for her to send me. I was online, and sending them while on the phone and from two email sources. All that phone and play by play action, e.g., "sending it now", is just too much fun for the perps who like to have the functional components of any activity to be isolated. I do get noisestalked while sending emails, and this was a slow version of it, and doing it multiple times. She could not send me a reply even, as it too got trapped. And no determination from the ISP as to how it "happened". One can be sure the entire episode was scripted down the last blink and breath on my end. This job is potentially in Edmonton, one cold place in winter, and would be a substantial difference that this damp winter climate in Victoria. She was also to phone back, but didn't, so the next call was expected to be her, but "happened" to be my in-town brother making arrangements. The perps like to elevate expectations and then either deny them, or swap them onto another party. This was a relatively minor bait-and-switch, but serves as an example of how tight they are managing me.

After this played out, my brother finally arrived to pick me up to do leaf raking at his place, but in advance he was compelled to purchase chocolate from the local supermarket that I frequent and didn't bother with a shopping bag, and instead, crammed the 8 or so chocolate bars in either green or yellow colored packaging into the cardboard separators of a wine case, having a brown cardboard enclosure to temporarily store brown colored food. And it wasn't any surprise that I later had one of them to eat at his place, then he had one, and we shared another, to leave one last green colored packaged chocolate bar at his place. Such is the perp's brown color research these days.

As well as getting the attentions of a software recruiter this morning, I also got the attentions of a laborer contractor via email, the very first such potential employer of at least 10 attemps to actually contact me since late September. So the multiple threads continue; will the next gig be a laborer position or a software development or application support? And in Edmonton, or here? And how important is it for them to keep me broke? I suspect this is all a ruse, and that the pokey work and spend (on software courses to upgrade my skills) model will be sustained. Though, they might let me stay in the black for once.

Another vocational theme that is being kept in planted mindshare is as a heavy equipment operator. I have never been one, but in the right circumstances it might be positive career change-up. And as it "happens" I "find" plenty of heavy equipment school ads, in newspapers and online, and there is also the added element that I might be able to milk this disability bullshit for the $10k to $20k in tuition fees that it would cost. This is another vocational thread that is being obviously arranged, as I would have never considered myself as a heavy equipment operator because the perps have always jerked me around all my life to be a klutz. Even keyboarding after 35 years is still a jerkaround. Imagine me with all those levers at my disposal and all the permutations on how it could go totally wrong in some way. No, it is too rich of an endeavor for the perps to trash my existence all the more, possibly with spectacular results, say like dumping an excavator. This too shall pass, just like the oilfield drilling roughneck planted fantasy of the last two weeks. Though interestingly, the Alberta thread is still being kept alive. The perps always like to keep these multiple parallel threads going, and this round of vocational interest has been stoked for at least four weeks now under various geographic and vocational guises. Funny that both potential jobs/vocations got responses in the same week, if not within 24 hours, when I was getting nowhere since I got back from my Sept. 22 excursion and never heard from potential employers that were said to be a sure thing by my daffodil bulb picking pals.

And the perps made certain I was so sure that I purchased the mandatory safety toed boots, a half mask respirator and some heavy clothing. (Though nothing remotely for working in Alberta in the wintertime). Some times the perps let me sit back and reflect on all of the vocational games that are described above, but most often they represent them as true and modify my thoughts to seriously debate the prospects of working in one of these situations. It is all one big game, and with this town loaded with strange aerials at every street corner and the Phalanx of Fuckwits around me (extra obvious gangstalkers), not to mention installing new 30" sewer pipes for me to use last year, I cannot see these assholes sending me anywhere, save perhaps a one day trip out of town for an interview. There is simply far too much invested in me and this town for them to not continue the ongoing fuckery. If one stops and observes one thing, large or small, there is vibratory energy that is unmistakable; it applies to buildings, the sky, vehicles and anything in one's purview, and must continue all the time, and not just in my proximity.

And while being driven by my brother in his white van today, the swarms of male gangstalkers were out on ambulatory duty, doing their absurd high arm swing, like one-of soldiers in all its patent absurdity. And I even got a stare from one of them that I was talking about as an example while stopped at a traffic light in front of a crosswalk. He was well out of earshot, the windows were closed, a vehicle horn had just sounded, and the Fuckwit was doing the look-behind-at-nothing-head-spin while walking forward (what else?), and at the instant of the horn noise, he paused his head rotation to give me a subsecond stare. A directed glance is a better description, but there was absolutely no reason for him to settle on me as a subject while spining his head. On with the gong show, or perhaps Gang Show.

The perps have me in a rage-ified state owing to the planted "reactions" to their noise provocations. That this erupted for eveningtime tea and chocolate was no coincidence. And it is likely the green tea is coordinated with the preceding wearing of green plastic earmuffs for the previous hour, something the perps have also encouraged with faint but annoying noise. It is all about the colors and the substances/materials and the near infinite permutations and combinations.

I noticed at the bus stop today, when coming back from my brother's place, that the perps placed a "city maintenance worker" to piss with the pedestrian traffic lights such that the "worker" was on a step ladder and physically blocking the "Walk" signal and the green light, and moved between them to vary the relative visible portions. He in orange overalls, a common enough clothing item which I would not ascribe to gangstalkers alone. The bus came within the minute, and pulled up to the curb in front of me, letting me on first and the freakshow to come on board after me. I had my usual vehicular escort as well; three same deep metallic red colored vehicles in file preceded by two white vehicles, and followed by two black vehicles and then another white vehicle. As part of the freakshow, I see that they are adding more Asians in with brown tones in their hair; I assume this is all part of the black to brown color inculcation they are up to. That I had a Newfoundland dog for six years who has similar colored hair on his legs wasn't enough it seems, though he was black haired everywhere else. I always wondered why my ex let the dog's hair get so ratty, leaving it up to me all the time, and now I have some idea that it was related to the perp's ongoing obsession over black hair, and brown color transitions. Not my problem, so why am I getting this harassment over someone else's color energetics problems?

I think I linked to this page a few days ago; it was Carissa Conti's take on gangstalking and targeted individuals with some analysis from her perspective as a MILAB (military sponsored abductee) and abusive childhood at school. As best as I can tell, she isn't targeted to the level of harassment as most TI's know it, and she offers some interesting ideas about the "negs" (negative entities) feeding off the TI's reactions and likely downtrodden mindset. She has experienced some confrontations and then they backed off for good after that, and even had a 10 second long staring event which she eventually stared down. She also remarks on the amazing sychronicities that go on, down to the details such as I mentioned above of one Fuckwit slipping in a extra glance while doing his dumbshit head spin act in mid-crosswalk while I was commenting on his, and others' arm flinging walk. She suggests there are higher dimension beings/states where all this can be coordinated and arranged without the colossal acting and scripting that it would take. I also plead that I am at a loss to understand how so many fuckwits can order themselves exactly to be in my way or otherwise synchronize with the harassment effort which would include noises and the ever present masers and plasma beams flitting about me. My take is that the Fuckwits will knowingly allow themselves to be mind controlled for the task at hand, i.e. gangstalking or otherwise engaging in stunts. My take on it is there must be some masterful script writers and software to control all the entities for all the desired interactions with me, and very possibly other TI's and also between themselves. They even have my line of sight exactly figured out in advance at every instant, very often to hide something behind something else so I will see the object/person with only one eye at first. There is nearly always a big push to precede me with prepared gangstalkers e.g. standing in the elevator without the door opening, ready for my arrival to then open the door to find them pre-positioned, or to follow me. I have been treated to the scene where they will follow my parent's vehicle after they dropped me off at a bus stop, and it was clear, unless it was a just-for-me demonstration, that they will follow the path of the TI's vehicle for at least a half hour afterward with continued extra vehicular gangstalking in all the usual color combinations, vehicle types, formations and the rest of the show's elements. I'm a software guy, and that is my take on how the gangstalking freakshow is so highly coordinated and arranged around me, nearly always in concert wtih my thoughts, perceptions and any activities like speaking, seeing, and even down to blinking and scratching. No one knows for sure, but I sense that Carissa Conti maybe onto something that is yet undefinable in our material world. And I am getting noisestalked over this as I ponder what is written. Hmm..

I should also mention in my defence, as I see it, that one's own reactions can be hijacked and mind controlled by the Powers That Be to use Carissa Conti's term for the perps. (I have many derogatory terms I must admit). In other words, the "reaction" is being planted on me, and I have experienced many situations where my normal reaction was totally wiped out, all to be stiffed with an intensified and highly outraged response to these incursiona. I get plenty of harassment in any given day, some 500+ typos sabotages, some 200+ fake touches on my arms, hands and torso, at least 150 crackle or pop noises as if it were my joint flexing and it isn't, so there is plenty enough for me to be pissed about in the first place, day after day. But I know that I would be calmer about this if I was allowed access to my own reactions, and not this planted and controlled variant that intensifies the annoyance to a much greater level.

I take Carissa Conti's measured analysis about being targetted and harassed as an affirmation from one who knows of covert malevolent forces firsthand, and who isn't afraid to make some bold suggestions as to how The Powers That Be are able to seamlessly arrange many hundreds of persons and objects in amazing levels of synchrony and coordination around their chosen subjects (TI's predominantly), and very possibly, covertly for many of the events we see in the news, often tragic ones. I am constantly noisestalked when reading tragic events online, and it is getting to disturb me that it just may be arranged to elicit some kind of intrinsic energetic/psychic interaction the perps are hoping to quantify from a distance among those that they control (TI's) or view through (operatives, shills). As a further example, they often force me to look at my daughter's picture on the wall, some 4' away, and requiring a 1/4 head turn which is totally silly if I am busy typing away on this blog. Same thing at my paren'ts place where my daughter's picture is even further from my view on their TV.

More synchronicity; I "happened" to see in the newspaper today that there is a murder trial on, and that the murder was in the lobby of this very apartment building. I don't normally read the local paper, but it was at my brother's place when having lunch in advance of the leaf raking he wanted me to do. Sooo...; was the trial arranged for me to see it in the newspaper, was the murder in keeping with the perps long running interest in exposing me to these kinds of events, or even on the macabre side, was it one of those life giving blood samples that they seem to need every so often? I don't know, but the fact is that I have lived here for a year and a half, and it would be likely that the murder trial would take place during this interval.

The goat milk self soured (IMHO) overnight as I found out this morning, lasting all of three days in the open state in the fridge, though the expiry date was today. This necessitated another late evening visit to the supermarket in keeping with the recent number of them, nearly always after an hour or more spell of wearing my dark green earmuffs to keep the annoying noises at bay. I had my tail in the lobby, a tall Asian male in a bright green tracksuit jacket on his cell phone tailing me out the door at a quick step, and to the two pedestrian crossings, and lo, if he wasn't there ahead of me by 60' doing the Plastic Bag Man act upon my return from the supermarket. I didn't see him in the supermarket, but I wouldn't be surprised if he had been. It never fucking ends, one Fuckwit after another.

Enough synchronicities for today, time to post this and be done.