Sunday, November 30, 2008

Counting Chickens Before they Hatch

Creating expectations before their likely realization is a longtime perp planted notion theme. And after starting this cleaning job three days ago, all manner of spending plans, saving goals and the like ensued. This, for a $400/month job that just might provide some net income. And as I indicated in yesterday's blog posting, there are some unrealistic job expectations that are being made plain, so much so, they have all the potential to make this a short term venture, all over in a month I wrote yesterday. And before I got up from bed, the perps reminded me of yesterday's ruminations that this job will only be short term, and they even had me practicing my resignation declaration syntax. So... it seems, the job will be over in days, and not a month as "suggested" (read, planted notion), and all those wonderous financial plans will come to naught. Just part of the scheme it seems, creating expectations that are then defeated by subsequent scripted events, even "new" (read, planted) perspectives, or more adversity.

And one has to think how long the perps have been planning some kind of cleaning position notion. Back in fall of 2007 there was a position advertised on the manager's office for a end-of-month cleaner and I applied, never to hear a word about it, and to observe that they didn't hire anyone either. It is likely this was to get me to submit my resume into the manager's mail box near the front door, and thereby provide some kind of paper material reference at this vital gangstalking location. building entry ways. They cannot get enough gangstalkers around at that moment, and have often put on three or more of them inside, then that many outside, all for me to pass through their scripted confusion stunts of egress obstruction. Last night, they even put on a moving act with furniture in the lobby. Anyhow, it isn't a big deal, and maybe the perp's obsession over cleaning jobs will be over.

A quick entry to include some pictures from the neighborhoed, apartment included. I am due to be picked up by the First Feral Family shortly, hence this brief, so to speak, introduction to the pics below.

And, no less, this pair of underwear has been there for at least six weeks, and seems to be about the oddest juxtaposition of clothing yet. Which begs the question, whose underwear is it? They would fit my mother, and that is about all the possible candidates. Imagine; setting this up for psychic underwear vibes across the street, some 100' away.

And who put son this waxy substance on my mouse all the time, ensuring it remains under my right hand, and gets soft with the heat of my hand, but never too noxious that I am moved to do something about it. No wonder the gangstalkers like to pass me on my right side and get a reading off of it, presumably to detect the color energies they created by way of plastering this on the mouse.

Calling this one done for today.

Saturday, November 29, 2008

Everything Stops for Tea

I love that John Baldry album, Everything Stops for Tea, as it deflates some of that pomposity I so loathe. But in fact, the sirens started when I was pouring the boiled water from the kettle into the teapot where the green tea leaves sit for steeping. Making tea, including the steeping time while the color changes, is a big harassment situation, and they made sure I was reminded about it today. There were sirens for when I was pouring the water, and then about four minutes later while sitting 8' away journally and after further color change, visible through my glass Bodum teapot. The assholes have gone extra rabid over other color changes too; flushing the toilet, so the water color passes from yellow tinged to colorless, their shit games, and then the recent "brown rust" color games that emanated from the three faucets after the water supply shutdown they neglected to inform me about in advance earlier this week.

And when I got up to pour my tea into a mug, why, there were the flashing ambulance and firetruck lights right outside my place, some six stories below, in place for me while drinking tea and eating chocolate. The perps' surrogates stopped by for tea it would seem. Regular readers will know how the perps are totally beserk over brown colors, and my contact with anything that is this color, especially when in my mouth and less than an inch from my brain. The harassment has a very strong neural investigation component (slightly understated, har, har), and it isn't too much of a surprise that one's mouth is a perp's battleground to wage their covert neural research agenda, though in my case, they have gone overt since 04-2002. Hence the near universality of the gangstalkers with their tongues hanging out, mouths agape, eating food (often bread, to add in "bread stalking"), spitting, and even puking a few times. (Yes, puking on the street is nothing new, and even spitting has now become the imposed "normal").

Here is part of the "action" outside my apartment less than an hour ago, and I see that the picture import feature of Blogger has suddenly "failed", and I cannot import any other photos after I was jerked around by the selected ones not all importing into Blogger. The rule of TI existence is, you are never allowed do anything once, but at least twice: once for us (the SS), and then for you. This is a zoom in of the idiot show, a police vehicle was also added into the mix, hence the red flash illuminations.

Other side action while the "emergency show" was in progress was to keep up the red colored vehicle testing, presumably as a benchmark to the introduction of the above flashing red lights. The perps put on colored vehicle shows all the time, often with some colored "book ends" and then a transiting same colored vehicle between them. The cardinality and directionality are also important as the distance dependent parameters that they seem to be testing/harassing me for.

Well, it seems that this one hour per day job isn't going to last that long. I see the strains of planted dissonance have been sustained, now only the third day on the job. The boss claims that it can be done in an hour, when it took me 1.75 hours yesterday, and 1.65 hours today. How can 45 minutes be shaved off a 1 hour 45 minute job and still be able to do it all. I was hauling ass tonight, and no backtracking as I learn about all the locations and the routine, even breaking into an sweati, (likely perp imposed) . I don't know what the "secret" is to speeding up the job so substantially, but it doesn't strike me as doing anything incremental. Either I am getting placed into some time warp, or my watch is getting fucked with (not tonight after checking it out), or there is another agenda focussed on job duration. It might be the preplanned dissonance that will ultimately develop into parting ways. The perps have the end of a gig planned before it begins, and they like specific issues to fester, especially if related to their objectives, one being the topic related to time. And to cap it off after his earlier snits over leaving the mop in the cleaning bucket, when he hadn't informed me about this before, he then gives me a printed list of all what is to be done. And lo, if there isn't more places and items to clean that he did not show me. Not much prospect for shaving this job duration down, and I suspect it will become a bigger issue rather than a smaller one as he was suggesting once I get "experienced".

And to add to the gangstalking action, it was inventory day, so there were about five fuckwits coursing about, though none slowed me up significantly. But they did have that perp ability to arrive at a location immediately preceding me needing to access the same location in the course of my cleaning duties. One of the loitering shiftless ones was smoking a cigarette in the service area, "happening" twice before I passed through there. Then they all came out to wash their hands in the service area sink while I had to wait for them until I could use it for filling up the floor mopping bucket. The boss didn't tell me what to put in the bucket besides water, so I used some of the disinfectant spray I had been using everywhere else. Funny how he didn't ask, and yet expected me to know all the same.

I reckon this cleaning gig might last a month before some event or pre-scripted issue comes to a head. Which suggests that they still don't want me to work in one jobsite for very long, as they nixed my volunteering at a local office last year after about five visits or so. The summer's daffodil picking meant that I was moving along the rows in the field, along with others, so the relocation aspect was met in that way.

The perps pulled a classic stunt tonight; I was cleaning the glass doors with a piece of paper towel, and put it down as it got soggy. As my hand was moving toward the glass door, the fuckers put that same piece of paper towel back in my hand. Of course I was pissed off, as even placing an object down isn't allowed. It was a new and blatant harassment that was quite over the top and without the usual pretense of creating a situation where I wasn't looking, or it "caught up" on something. Another bastion of conventional normality has been breached by the Sureptiticious Sickos, the SS.

The perps also got me rage-ified tonight in advance of going to my job; it was a making tortillas from scratch, the same way that I have been doing it for over six years, and they flicked food and water around, pulled objects from my grasp, created plenty of extra noise of no ostensible cause, and a number of other imposed vexations and made sure that I got plenty pissed about it. A "warm up" event it seemed, all to create more auric energies for them to be able to detect from their remote locations. I read about someone who could see auras, and that there was a very long trail of this energy if the person was stressed. Regular readers will know that pissing me off is the perps' play of first resort, as this enhances the interaction with other energetic sources, particularly gangstalkers, and especially if I have had an association with the person in the past. Hence, the perp's need to have morphovers, the gangstalkers who know me but are disguised as someone else.

I was out earlier at the LD store this morning to get a newspaper and some drug store items, and they had their Fuckwits arranged for me to either pass by while they were "standing around" (and looking totally stupid), or else positioned exactly where I needed to go. They had the soap section packed with at least five gangstalkers so I didn't bother to get any, and then the chocolate section had a sub 5' tall woman parked exactly where I needed to access, and had her head about 6" away from the display I needed to get to. In other words, placement of the head is very important to the perps, and they wanted this Fuckwit to be exactly where I was to reach to maximize the brown color exposure time. I have never seen their gangstalkers to be so obvious in a store before, but there is always a first time. Said woman gangstalker "joined me" at the checkout, arriving two customers behind me.

It was plain that the above LD store gangstalking was from more Unfavored demographic groups; geriatrics, male gut strutters and male waddlers. I find it funny that they will specialize in a few Unfavored demographic groups rather than mix them up as they usually do. This shopping area has outside benches and it was surprising to see the number of Fuckwits sitting on wet and cold steel, pretending to be casually lounging around. Ditto for the supermarket which I had to visit as the LD store did not have the newspaper in. While there, more male loungers outside at the tables, and the instant I cast a derisive glance, they suddenly spin their head to look away. Fucking bizarre.

More knee torquing torture tonight while reading my regular blogs; the perps also had me with my earmuffs on and made a pounding noise that got through, often in concert with having my leg twisted below my knee. They like to do this because the pain sensations are recieved directly in the brainstem area where they seem to be fixated if the maser strikes though the neck are a usefull clue. At the same time, they wouldn't let me read for full comprehension, and instead, had me flit about, reading portions here and there, and never being allowed to attain reading continuity. Nothing new there, just that there was the siultaneous knee torquing and thumping through the earmuffs.

I am going to call this one done for the day as it is clear that my onine time is being constrained tonight, and the typo sabotage has just increased to rage-ification levels.

Friday, November 28, 2008

Two Hot Casseroles on the City Bus + rewrites, 11-29-2008

Either I haven't spent enough time on city buses, or else the crowd on them is getting suddenly stranger. Two Asian males, each with a hot casserole wrapped up in respective red or white plastic bags, were on the bus. The Asian male with the hot casserole in the red plastic bag sat next to me effectively replacing a female Asian who lasted three bus stops and then got off. I call this "warming up the seat", but in fact these prepatory surrogates are also used on the street, the most mentioned and Favored "warm up" (aka, introductory) surrogates being attractive Caucasian blonde women. The other Asian male stood some 6' away, even though there were seats availible to him. TI's will know that their perp harassors like to introduce either excessively hot or cold items in their proximity as it seems there is an advantage to this greater than normal temperature gradient. (Hence, frozen goods in one's proximity, gangstalkers at the supermarket freezer and cooler cases etc.) These Asian dudes were at the tail end of another extra frenetic bus passenger turnover with a few weirds in the mix. It was another crazy bus trip by my standards of past bus experience on that route, pre-overt harassment days. The bus was packed at 1545h heading into downtown and nearly stopped at every bus stop; it is absurd by local standards, and all the more so that the buses are running every 10 minutes on that leg of the trip.

On the bus the perps are kept me entertained with other themes related to their favorite colors; more red coats, one 3' in front of me for much of the trip, followed by a pink wearing gangstalker sitting in the same seat for the latter 10 minutes. In total, it was a 20 minute trip, and I am sure that some gangstalkers might have been recycled by way of being morphed over, appearing in a different form and clothing. I also noticed that white hats are the rage of late, especially touque-like ones that are tight to the head, essentially outlining it and casting it in an odd color. And there was a black and white touqued gangstalker ahead of two white hatted gangstalkers that came on later, one of them choosing the same seat. I noticed that there were more red colored gangstalking vehicles, as well as more tonal gradations of greyscale colors.

I spent 1.75 hours at my one hour job doing the cleaning at a Mazda car dealership. The man in charge says it can be done in 0.75 hours. I was somehow "time trashed" or something, but I don't see how it can be done, even if I was extra fastidious tonight. It will be about $400 month and will keep me from increasing my line of credit, and perhaps, it could get paid down some. Why the perps couldn't have me do this over a year ago is beyond me, but it seems that they are going for extra complexity in the way of color and gangstalker combinations. They were all over me on the way back from the job, putting on two couples both holding hands, one on lead-ahead mode, the other oncoming. Then a herd of at least four dudes outside the resturaunt that I passed by, and then a scary skinhead act, tracking me parallel for a full block, and then he "happened" to be ahead of me for the last 90' before arriving at my apartment building. There was also a herd of about 9 dudes ahead, preceding the skinhead. Then another dude came from nowhere to tail me through the door to the elevator lobby inside, and then another dude got on at the second floor to accompany us upward in the elevator.

On the city bus trip I described above I noticed there are more "plastic bag stalking" going on; Fuckwits packing groceries on the bus and taking every opportunity to plant them on the floor, even temporarily while paying the bus fare even. Then at this car dealership I was cleaning tonight, why, someone left a plastic bag of groceries from the local supermarket, presumably as some kind of portable reference.

The perps are making sure I feel kind of spent after working tonight, a reminder perhaps that they don't like me to work for long hours at a stretch. But they do like to put out all manner of red colored vehicles and clothing on the gangstalkers in the evening. And of course, a car dealership, why didn't I think of it before; they hound me all over town (and two countries) with vehicles, and they hound me all over the place for building egress, and here we are, vehicles inside of a building. Talk about a setup, never mind being surrounded by new vehicles, inside and out. They put on two slightly differently silver-grey vehicles in the shop where us two cleaners pass through for the entire evening, and they had three white new vehicles in the S. showroom, presumably in aid of the vehicle color games. The sparkling show lights in the showrooms almost make me want to buy a Mazda then and there, but that is getting totally silly. Vehicle ownerhip isn't in my near term future, meaning at least two years before the skein of abuse has finally been completed.

Other action today was a biweekly job search appointment; more positive potential bounty is on my head I learned. The employer can be paid for up to half wages while I am in training under this funding source. Not only will they cover training in advance of employment, but with the right employer, get half my salary paid. This intrepid employer notion, hypothetically finding a sponsoring "white knight" to engage with subsidies and with interesting employment prospects has to be planted by the perps. I am lucky if I get an acknowledging email, never mind an adventuresome employer to be. This town doesn't have that Silicon Valley drive, being a government town, and is far too staid with some positive exceptions. But there is a perp theme they like to expose me to, and that being some heroic character, or else being "rescued" by one. I don't get it, and of course all the Greek mythology I studied has vaporized from my recall.

Then in the afternoon it was the city bus freakshow N. bound to my parent's place where my mother was going out and my father in his putative dementia has to be "babysat" with a responsible adult there. That was my job, and in effect, get gangstalked by him doing his bullshit Alzheimer's act, and doing all the good things a perp needs; standing over the victim, walking in orthogonal directions from one side of the house to the other and then standing at the windows, babbling on semi-coherently with partial logic, but not at other times, then making annoying scraping noises by walking around with a dinner plate apparently scraping it with his thumb, and then adding a distance dependent component of ensuring the scraping noise is fainter while further away, and then the game of peekaboo, standing behind a doorway/wall and being partially obscured, then progressively more so in small 1" increments, and then locking the outside door on me that I had unlocked to force me to make a long round trip to get at the door from the inside again, this time wearing my gardening boots and some other long running bullshit dementia Fuckwit games.

I had intended to cut the remaining firewood while I was there, and was fussed over the usually piss poor options in finding the right tool at my parent's place. And lo, there was the very tool I needed, a crosscut Swede saw, laid out when I was expecting the usual vexatious toil in looking for it. A rare upside "happening".

Supposedly he is to be headed into a care home in the new year, though this has been put off for two years now, so I am not expecting anything to change. I don't think this portends any perp change to the plan, as he could be elsewhere when I visit, and then be back again in his house when I am not there. It is just another feint to elicit empathy, something the perps like to do for either real or staged events. There is an important psychic difference they are looking for between a real outcome, and one that is faked, staged or promoted without evidence as declared by the operative/quisling/Fuckwit. Likewise for empathy; they like to have the adverse travails conveyed to me of someone/something I might care about, and then too, others persons/objects that I don't care about, and also, some that I might elicit a hostile reaction so to have me revel in schadenfreude.

Yesterday, as part of a conversational segue, the Mazda salesman was telling me that the local Volvo dealership isn't doing well, and then suddenly we were interrupted by someone else. As it "happens", I liked my Volvo 245 until forced to sell it for economic reasons, and would buy a newer one assuming the build quality was still there, which I think it is. So here he was, planting what might be true, local Volvo dealership in peril- empathy as to the make of vehicle, and conveying its possible dire circumstances. What is it that the perps are so obsessed about this empathy theme they keep running these stories, true or not, be it about favorite vehicles, envied/respected persons, businesses that are in difficult circumstances, financial duress etc. This entire foreclosure news story might be concocted for the same reasons; inviting some kind of deep psychic empathy, though in this case, it is financially circumstantial.

And what is it about the trail of wreckage of some professional practicioners who I have long dealt with? My dentist had back problems and had to give up his career 10 years earlier than planned. Then I learned today my optometrist of some 20 years had a skiing accident that left him unable to continue his career, 15 years earlier than retirement age. Both these had to be players doing the perp's past work as part of the professional discharge of their duties, and presumably were compensated in some way (e.g. new practice location), and are now unable to continue in their respective professions. There are two ways of looking at this; as random events, or as I maintain, nothing in my life is a coincidence, not even the placement of dust bunnies, crumbs and the dog hairs I get. Or, I have got a bullshit story in each case, another one of those possible elicitations of empathy they often arrange for some remotely applied means to neurally evaluate to detect some deep psychic difference between a real event and a faked one, as mentioned above.

It is all too curious as to how the perps operate; do they have a frontline crew who do the scripting, stunting and compensating of the shills and quislings, and then a murderous or plundering crew who are largely unknown to the frontline crew who stir up more depredative outcomes to continue the remote psychic energy evaluations? I don't really know how it works, but there is likely many levels of the perps' operations, and one level may not be aware of all what is going on. As Richard Hoagland said, "the lies are different at each level". An interesting statement that, the de facto presumption of deceit ahead of truth.

I am not sure I understand all my ruminations above, and I always revisit the core precepts to test them again and ponder just what is all the harassment about, and at what level is it planned, and were the players aware of the script, or not?

It is time to ponder my way to bed, and hopefully get some sleep tonight. I haven't been the worse for all that I missed last night, a "new improved feature" of being overtly harassed, though mutable at anytime the orchestration master thinks I need to be disabused of the few percieved benefits.

Thursday, November 27, 2008

Unannounced Water Supply Shutdown

That is correct, this apartment building has shut down the water for four hours without notice, adroitly timing the shutdown over breakfast, ensuring that I had water for the kettle to make coffee, but none 10 minutes later for doing the dishes. And upon query to the supposed manager, it is shutdown for four hours, meaning no shower, shave and the rest of the morning routine. All timed to preced yoga later at 1130h, one of the perps very favorite times to lay on extra street gangstalking. A coup of a kind, as I have had many water shutdowns in all my apartments of the past five years, but always with some notice, even if they did provide it late. On with the show, as well as the extra offensive emanations coming off this LCD display.

Then it all changes; I get back from yoga, and there is a phone message for me. I call, talk to the answering machine. About 15 minutes later, I get the return call, and the cleaning job I applied for is offered; no interview, no references, just be there at 1745h, at the local Mazda dealership. It is a one hour per day, six day per week job, and amounts to about $400 per month. Enough to pay for the chocolate habit that I am stiffed with and a bit left over to pay my line of credit down. Not exactly riches, but enough to keep the wolf from the door and maybe a little extra.

I have done the training now, and I learn that the person I work for is disabled, and he told me that he applied for subsidized housing, and he pays $265/month, and was accepted in at age 52. Now we are talking; that would be a $300 saving per month if I could score that kind of rent deal. Which begs the question, why in the fuck didn't anyone tell me about it in the first place? My eviction record might be the reason, but now that I have been "good" (no one complained so far) in this place, now we are talking about moving up in the world, up the subsidy ladder for us disabled folks. And as I am 55 next year, so why not the "senior citizen" gig too? So it would seem that the perps have me suddenly motivated to move for a substantial rent reduction, finally cashing in on some of disabled benefits, har, har.

11-28-2008, 1130h
And I am being kept on the go even today with two more appointments. Last night they kept me awake for at least three hours before allowing a light sleep and then into some vivid and fugly dreams, though I cannot recall anything specific, save my impression. The noise campaign was maintained the entire time I was in this imposed wakeful state; bizarre processions of loud mufflered vehicles (hot rods, "performance" mufflers, ill maintained mufflers), heavy duty vehicles etc. But at least they kept the pretense of excessive bus service only until midnight when there are no scheduled buses afterward. Funny how they observe some decorum (conventional normality) and ignore other improbabilites.

I will post this now, and attempt an update later. I also got snookered last night when they caused my monitor display to go sideways, making it impossible to read. Visions, planted ones, of packing my PC across town to get it fixed came to mind, but a phone call to my ersatz techinical support came through with a simple Windows CRTL + UP ARROW for any TI's who get stiffed with this stunt.

Wednesday, November 26, 2008

Dream Invaders

There have been more shut-in days of late, and it seems this is the big strategy since jerking me out of work in September, such as it was, picking daffodil bulbs with the Fuckwits. And my mother happened to mention something about doing the job again come summer 2010, which is a whole lot of pointless (it seems so far) job applications for something better. But as the perps have a soil/Earth/color obsession of the first order, and are strangely compelled to press me into against my will, it isn't entirely unexpectable that they will be having me do farming work with specially modified glove fingers for limited skin contact with soil, daffodil bulbs and whatever is part of the finger-soil contact nonsense they put me through this past summer, as well as the same "glove finger modifications" that erupted two days ago when raking leaves at my in-town brother's place.

The outside noise campaign started off when I was in bed, waking up from some very vivid and fugly dreams with content that isn't in my experience domain and stayed too vivid for too long to be anything but a planted dream. And as I have mentioned in past blogs, the perps are now able to defeat my normal dream bail-out reactions (always dependable until this year), and keep me in a dream I would ordinarily reject. The dream theme was something about nuclear weapons which I had on hand, and was wiring them up together somehow for parallel detonation. Very fugly, and if I ever get to the asshole who scripts this and defeats my dream rejection reflexive capabilities, it will be another case of Fucked Fuckwit. It is totally sick to invade anyone's mind, let alone while they are sleeping and then fuck them with vivid dreams that serve the purpose of the dream invaders. Fucking deranged.

I was allowed one outing so far, a short visit to the local supermarket, me and my posse of shiftless dudes without seeming day jobs. They nearly all had black jackets on, same as my jacket color, and most had touques that seem to be the rage amongst the Fuckwits, often with sunglasses to make them almost alien like, a common theme of late, also portrayed by the hoodies, the extra large afro hair do's (not just on Africans), and the Oakley style of shades that appear as oversized alien eyes. It seems this is another theme of the Unfavored demographic groups, the alien look, or at least in part; eyes, head in side profile, head face on with backlighting to highlight the relative size and other fucking around games they like me to catch, often in subsecond glimpses.

When I was entering the store one lead-ahead female gangstalker had a blue jacket on, an identical blue to that of the jacket in my coat rack that was next to the (black) jacket I put on and wore on this eventful 10 minute outing. About 50% of the time there is this blue color matching within 10 minutes of being outside, abetted by the fact that the two jackets are of the same make, material, size and cut as well as bought at the same location, my out-of-town brother's store in Kamloops. I bought two jackets, "thinking" that I needed at least one for outside construction work after doing the daffodil bulb work in the summer, but lo, if all my attempts to get work have been stymied, sometimes by some very strange actions by temp outfits. All my Fuckwit co-workers were duly promoting the fact that there is easy construction work to be had, and that fuelled the "need" to be prepared for outside work in the fall. Then, these hiring outfits went south and didn't call back, return emails and the litanty of evasiveness that has become the imposed norm.

The outside road traffic noise is getting louder, and there is more of it, or at least, going by the noise. Even the bus noise has been ramped up, even if the bus schedule hasn't been, to at least every three minutes or so. For a route that has only one N, bound bus, that is impressive. Of course most of it is projected noise, and isn't real vehicles, and I do check to see if there is an actual noise source sometimes, and there often isn't. Regular TI's will know that noises can be created and projected by some means, all to sustain near constant noise as living next to a high speed freeway when in fact it is a two lane secondary arterial street that you see pictured below.

Taken 10-25-2008, 1619:16h. The street running diagonally from the lower left to the upper right has three parked same red vehicles, not exactly in file, but with nothing between them. On the other side of the street is a file of parked vehicles, partially obscured by a wall, with the lead parked pickup also in a red color with a brown colored steel box in the bed of the pickup with some orange lettering on it. Behind the pickup, and parked in file from right to left are a black sedan, a silver-grey sedan, another black sedan and an silver-grey sedan, two groups of the same two colored vehicles, alternating. Other vehicles are a same red sedan parked on the street, a black colored vehicle stopped at the traffic light on the left side, and a silver grey vehicle turning left in the intersection. Of these 11 vehicles, five are red, three are black, and three are silver-grey. The street that is running from left to right is Quadra St. and is the putative source of road traffic noise as if it were a high speed freeway, as mentioned above. To the upper right on the diagonally pictured street are three blue colored vehicles, one white color and a deep green colored vehicle straddling the center line while in motion. That is a minor classic in this town, a new driving behavior since 2002 of going down the centerline for no apparent reason.

I am sure the pedestrians are arranged as well, but for the most part they don't seem to be doing, or dressed in any irregular way. I call the plastic bag toting dudes the Plastic Bag Men, but there is a supermarket in the next block, so they are to be expected, even if engaging in a favorite perp move of pointing while doing so.

The same as above and zoomed in, but three seconds later with the blue colored vehicle in motion now approaching the intersection. Nothing odd save what is mentioned above; the ordered red colored vehicles in rough file, and the alternating black and silver-grey vehicles behind the red colored pickup on the right side.

Taken 10-25-2008, 1619:34h. And nothing any more odd except another similar red colored vehicle, this one on the lower right and stopped at the traffic light, in a only-in-this-town arrangement, over top of the stop line, a driving behavior that erupted since 2002. This intersection has red colored vehicles on three sides of it, either street parked or stopped, and for the diagonal street, red colored vehicles in two directions.

And this apartment is already dimming down, so it is time to put on the lights. I swear it did not get dark so early this time last year. And lo, if there wasn't a balcony posing fuckwit with coffee in hand in the building opposite that you see in the above photo while I was pulling the blinds to and over at the kitchen putting the light on.

I uploaded my pictures earlier as you can tell by the fact that I inserted three of them above, and I found out that the pictures of being surrounded with five male fuckwits all lined up when at the bus stop two days ago were not on the SD card. They were gone, some three or four photos of the dudes strangely malingering in my proximity, with an additional one across the street dressed totally in black and standing stalk still for no seeming reason. It would seem that they want to do some distance dependent dude-vibes testing, and needed five around me to test the one some 35' away, exactly opposite of where I sat, and with a white colored vehicle parked next to him. It is strange enough to have these shiftless fuckwits around me line up some 6' apart, and then they fuck me out of recording any pictures of the nonsense. It is rare that I "remember" to take my camera on the freakshow outside, aka public gangstalking, but as I had my cameral in my pack after returning from my parent's place to my brother's, I was able to take some photos at a location other than this apartment.

More clanging of doors and locks in the hallway while I am reading about Vitamin K, which I did not know existed until now. Before that, there was a string of loud vehicle noise from outside which somehow penetrated the gree earmuffs I was wearing, which caused me to take them off and plug my ears with my fingers. This happened one after the other, serially. I can't imagine how it could be anything but arranged, but if someone has any ideas, I will be happy to entertain them. I have done all my usual web browsing for the day and am at a loose end as to what to do. Regular readers will know that this is a highly desirable state for the perps, and they have imposed some odd work lulls in my long past. This is about the strangest imposition that they bring, forcing one to be idle, as if they haven't had enough of it in the past six years of this deranged abuse. Some TI's get to work, and others get marginalized on disability benefits like me. Keeping me bored might be a perp objective for strange reasons I cannot yet fathom, but it is not the foremost of objectives, and may only "happen" a few times a week. Naturally, having a job would minimize such boredom exposure, and that might be another reason they seem to be thwarting employment since late September when I began looking in earnest. This has always been a strange town to find work in my experience, hence much of my early carrer spent elsewhere. And now I know why it is strange, while my friends all seem to find jobs, it is because it is arranged; boredom for me, payoffs for quisling friends, getting a job being a common mode of payoff. I don't know how they arrange it, but nearly all my past friends come up with good jobs while I deal with a blacklisting in effect. I also think that keeping me broke is part of the grand plan, something that most TI's deal with.

My mother said that my new eyeglasses to be are a Christmas present, which is code for "no job until at least the new year". Like I mentioned above, she also intimated that there will be more dafffodil bulb picking next summer, which might be code for "no job so we can repeat last year's soil digging experimentation". Besides, the perps don't like me to be working at one location, hence desk jobs also being unlikely. That means no work in my professions, forestry and systems development, as there would be too much desk sitting for the perps to handle. The perps also had me cranked up to work one or two days a week which seemed doable from their constrained objectives, and lo, if two of those part time jobs didn't materialize in the local job boards, and lo, neither panned out, not even for an interview. It is like the bait and switch games they like to play; set me up and then jerk me around. I think I have mentioned this theme before.

My Logicraft Trackball mouse is getting sabotaged so it is time for a new one, something that I suspect has long been planned for by the Fuckwits. The current Trackball mouse has red lights on the thumb portion and it no doubt serves as some kind of red light reference at my right hand. And might explain why the oncoming gangstalking Fuckwits always want to pass me on my right side, as if in left hand drive mode, something that strikes at least 20% of them. When I purchased the first Trackball mouse in 2000 there was no choice in selection, that is, having one without the freaking red lights set into the mouse. I had one at home, and the generous boss got me one for the office. Little did I know that a core piece of perp color game fuckery was right under my hand and that this surfeit of online time has had many covert agendas behind it. The present one is a dark metallic grey tone, and it looks like the new one will be in the perp's very favorite color, silver-grey.

Some browsing of 20" monitors, as in dream on, there is no dough for one when I have a serviceable 15" one that I use. And the Fuckwits exploit that smaller size for forcing horizontal scrolling for many web pages that just "happen" to get clipped off. They might be more tired of it than I am. Was this an exercise in coveting, or a precursor to getting some money, as in a job, to aquiring a civilized monitor size. Who knows, and there could well be other objectives in the mix.

Time to call this one done for the day and get some rest from the acquisitional aspirations, planted of course.

Tuesday, November 25, 2008

Surrogate Churchbell Clanging Upstairs

In the ever never ending spiral of stupider and stupider (aka, progressively more improbable), the faux upstairs neighbor has taken to banging a metallic drum of some kind, say a 5 gal. steel pail. It isn't a instrument quality of sound, but the erstaz clanging the perps like to engage in. And in doing, are continuing their program of creating clanging and ringing sounds in my proximity, much as if there were some kind of vibrational energies they are wishing to create, and then have them interfere with other like energies in my proximity. Just another day in Fuckville, the collective assortment of remotely applied harassment, torture, abuse that passes for just another event, now six years of this deranged imposition.

And a rage-ified morning, all prompted by mysterious hangs in the attaching of a document to an email. The Open Office Writer doc file won't attach for "some reason", and the requestor already has an rtf file that he could save as a doc file with MS Word. Then the alternative, creating a new rtf file "somehow" blows up over bulleting, all to repeat the earlier corrective actions in creating the doc file in the first place. And while getting sabotaged in attempting repairs, the perps made sure I was rage-ified as my "reaction" to yet more imposed impasses of doing what should be simple things. And I suspect its not the softward conversion, but the one and only agency that exploits any differentials and conversion processes to then seed more vexation.

This follows on from a seriously ugly night of imposed dreams for which my normal bail-out neural circuitry won't now work. I suggest that this too has been remotely jerked with, all to keep me "experiencing" extended dream fuckery for longer, something they couldn't do until this year. The morning was rounded out with excessive traffic noise, as if there was both a freeway outside and local traffic with plenty of stop/start brake squealings. And the strange logger's whistle noise was also arranged while in a light sleep, and the practice involved progressively fainter sounds. Regular readers will recall that I have remarked on this particular noise in the past, and that it has no apparent source, as it is very unlike any vehicle, train or ship's whistle, and is uniquely tuned to use in forestry settings. And more oddly, they put the logging whistle noise on last night while keeping me in 1.5 hours of sleeplessness, that being only one of many noises that were directed at me as they kept me flipping my head from side to side. They also created more colored spots and shapes while my eyes were closed, and seem to be working on integrating red colors into a black background. So it would seem that it was a continuation of yesterday's goings on, where after having breakfast at my parent's, and then driving my mother to a specific store, I then was dropped off at my in-town brother's place to continue leaf raking, as it seems he hasn't the patience to do it. Don't ask what he did in past years he has lived at this same location, as I don't know either.

My leaf raking was fraught with the usual extra-conventional gravitic fuckery; leaves "somehow" slipped through the tines of the rake, some leaves "arrived" from nowhere after the leaves had been raked clean, other leaves strangely hopped or lept 2' or so "from" being raked, and many other extra-conventional kinetics. Not too vexing in total thankfully. I had the the expectable surfeir of aircraft noise while outside; I cannot understand why the commercial helicopter service is now flying over the nearby naval base; not one of those "high security" situations it seems. That, and the loud mufflered vehicles arrived in the neighborhood, not to mention loud Harley Davidson two cycle motorcycle noise. Funny how it travels with me.

While there, my brother left for work, and while working away on the lower portion of the property his sort-of native Indian girlfriend arrived unannouced, as I only saw her as she departed in her (brown colored) vehicle. In other words, she arrived from her day job, slipped into the house and would of seen my footwear, pack and coat there, and then took off again, all for me to catch a departing glimpse. Then after finishing the garden work I find she had locked the door up, something unexpected, as she had to have known I was there. But as it "happened", my brother told me about his new secret key hiding location for the first time yesterday, and I was able to get into the house, and then lock it up afterward.

When in the house, and cleaning my brother out of the last of his chocolate which he had previously offered, I was about to use the toilet to take a piss, but lo, there was some already in the toilet, with a drop on the seat to let me know that it was likely a recent event. Meaning, that his girlfriend might have driven from her work to take a piss in his toilet, leave it there unflushed, all for me to dispose of it, and pee into the same toilet. I don't normally get into the elimination interests of the perps, but this sudden lapse in hygeinic behavior of all immediate family has not gone unnoticed over the past 4 months or so. I will spare the details, but that, in conjunction with the tactical pee-ing and shitting that is going on in my apartment at key perp interest moments such as immediately following sending an email, applying for a job online, selecting, cutting and pasting in Windows, and other like minuitae that they routinely and relentlessly noisestalk along with applying other phenomenon, suggests the perps cannot get enough of bodily eliminations to study. So, all the current urine recycling problems on the space station that is in the news, could it be the reach of the perps in fucking astronauts in a much different environment for the same reasons of remotely applied covert human bioenergetics research of bodily eliminations? One must not conflate the present imposed hell to all things of similar nature, but who tknows, except to note that it is all getting curiouser and curiouser and fits the consistent model of Earth-bound bioenergetics study being separated from those of us Earthlings.

I got a credit on my credit card, simple enough, but for my financial record keeping the Fuckwits dithered me for over 10 minutes, not letting me register the transaction correctly, and ultimately adding an "Adjustment" transaction to deal with the fuckery. Then, another look, and a new cognitive perspective was allowed, and finally I was permitted to register the transaction as a transfer. Ten minutes of farting around all to deal with a problem they created in the fiirst place, presumably to rile me up over financial transactions. And it would seem to be a set-up as my mother showed me one of her statements with "CR" and "wanted to know" if she had to pay anything on it. Always the variable ditz, and seeming engaging me with Fuckwit agenda elicitations that have research/harassment corollaries not long afterward.

Other yesterday First Feral Family action while leaf raking at my brother's place was the identical jerkaround with the hole in the glove fuckery again. One of the red fleece lined leather gloves "erupted" with a hole in one left hand finger, and so was in direct contact with soil, leaves and anything else related to raking leaves, and including the rake tines on the odd occasion. Regular readers will recall that I was picking daffodil bulbs for two months in the summer, and this involved wearing gloves and scraping the soil to find them and place them in a box for removal to the warehouse. I forget if I mentioned how many times my gloves "erupted" with left hand finger holes, sometimes over a break period when not being used. Good quality and relatively unused leather gloves would get holes in the fingers within a few days, and the disposable cotton ones would do the same. Other games related to hand contact were having me use sodden cotton gloves to pick weeds from the wet cabbage plantations and also one day in the pouring rain. And by way of perp planted notion it seems, they are purposely holing my gloves to allow just one fingertip to be exposed to soil, plant material or other at very selective intervals and situations. They also tell me that the skin can absorb various nanoparticles and that they cannot model its energetic effects in the human body, once taken in. This coming from a pack of liars, but in this case it could be true owing to this ongoing one finger glove holing that should not be happening in the case of the leather gloves.

And so, it would seem that much of this ongoing nanoparticle fuckery is so that I don't take in compounds through my hands. They routinely have me use gloves to clean the bathroom, and that might also be for the same reasons; limiting compound intake through fingers. That they had me replace my keyboard about 10 months ago might be related to this, as the old keyboard worked fine, but still the perps demanded a $75 Fuckover from a victim on a disability income when they could of supplied one themselves, the assholes.

So it wasn't too much of a surprise that when walking back to the bus stop I had two red dressed kid gangstalkers paralleling me down the street, one doing the all too common skateboard act, weaving down the hill. Then later, another kid paralleling me when walking on the latter portion of my walk to the bus stop. And lo, if there wasn't a negro dude installed at the bus stop in advance of me arriving, the exact same circumstances when I was dropped off at the same bus stop by my brother about a week and a half ago after raking leaves at his place, though a differing negro dude. Another three shiftless males incrementally arrived and closed in on me, and lo, if only a minute before the bus arrives, another negro dude arrives, seeming not to know the other one at first, but did moments later so they could stand side by side like sentries, letting me on ahead of them. Another two negros were on driveby duty. There aren't that many in town, and it is mighty curious as to why they keep "showing up" in my presence, and even are portrayed on delivery vans in this town for some reason. The only speculative reasons for this particular Unfavored group to be represented is given at the link. Suffice to say, it seems like yet another elicitation of subconscious responses to long past traumatizations to Unfavored demographic group members during the lost years of 1956 to 1959 (no recall of anything for 2.5 years at least). There must be something important about me that "needs" to be sampled/exposed to the Unfavored, and by having me on the city bus freakshow after raking leaves for three hours, they get more freak exposure.

Two weeks ago when staying at my parent's place, my mother was going on about nuns for some reason, and mentioned that they don't dress up in those funny costumes, aka, a habit. I forget how this topic got started, perhaps it was prompted by a newspaper article that morning. Again, I have no recollections as to having even seen nuns at anytime in the aforementioned "lost years" and I did seriously wonder if this is another Unfavored group that I am unaware of. Though I do know that the Catholic Church had a significant hand in the Duplessis Orphan abuse in Quebec during the 1950's and 1960's, though any connection that I have is tenuous. And as it "so happens", there is at least one Duplessis Orphan who is getting gangstalked and like harassment, who connects that stated sponsored child abuse with the current remotely applied harassment and gangstalking that I recieve. I did live in Montreal, Quebec in 1956-57, aged 2 to 3 at the time, but my Montreal recollections are sketchy, and later recollections are totally nonexistent until 1959.

Another exercise in hanging this PC; the perps need to do this every few days and have a window partially removed, often only with remaining witespace and hang the processor so I have this white-out image until I interupt the process and kill it. Then the browser is relaunched again, all to get back to where I was. This is a dual core processor and "somehow" it lacks the power to sort an existing directory that was already sorted alphabetically until the new Firefox upgrade fucked it up and made it worse.

Another three job applications were fired off in the last hour, along with tuning my resume for each one. And to no surprise, there was plenty of noisestalking of Windows select, copy and paste, as well as sending the email, addressing it, writing it, saving resume versions and all other associated minutae. I am begining to sense that many of the job advertisements seem to be arranged by local businesses, or desired situations like a two day per week job so I could continue with my disability until this time next year after taking courses to upgrade my software development skills. In other words, a certain theme is planted into mind, and then the jobs seem to match it, but of course not even an interview materializes. The perps aren't doing me any favors by sandbagging my typing, fucking with my motor control on the keyboard and the rest of the aggravations that build up to rage-ification level abusive fuckery.

Before the above job looking was tea and chocolate time, and that too was roundly noisestalked with the high speed freeway traffic noise, as well as their ongoing rage-ification games over faked noises and touches as well as their most persistent and deranged stunt yet, the re-wetting of a specific knife I use, called a Spyderco Delica. It often gets put in the knife block about 10 minutes ahead of using it to cut into the chocolate bar foil. It gets thoroughly dried, shaken, and then re-dried with a tea towel to then be placed in the knife block. About 10 minutes later after the kettle has boiled and the tea has steeped (also a perp obsession), I need to use the Spyderco knife for opening up the chocolate bar wrapping foil. And lo, if the assholes haven't slathered water beads on it to then force it to be re-dried again immediately before its intended use. In other words, drying the knife and placing it in the knife block for use ten minutes later isn't good enough; they have to go and fuck it by mysteriously applying water to the knife in the block to then piss me off as I had just dried the knife beforehand. This bizarre jerkaround has been playing nearly once per day for about two weeks, and before this insane bullshit started up, the knife was most often dried, placed in the block and it stayed dry thereafter. Not now, this expectable sequence has to be fucked with by the Surrepticious Sickos, aka, the SS.

That is segue into a new piece of related fuckery that erupted today, and being allowed for the first time in six years, to dry the cutlery with a tea towel. Normally, the little cutlery I use (another topic) air dries in the dish rack and I put them into the drawer. But all of a sudden, today, the fuckers ensure the cutlery stays wet, and have me dry it with the tea towel. Not a big deal for me, but for the SS, they went crazy with overhead pounding noise, extra street traffic noise, extra augmented noise of the cutlery "clanging" (actually, there was no contact, but just more noise augmentation as if it happened), overhead pissing noise, faux neighbor water use noise and a few others. The SS went beserk with noisetalking all over me hand drying cutlery for the first time in six years. The same tea towel as always.

But mind you, they are consistent, even if beserk. In 2006 the SS broke my Copco frypan with a copper layer under the stainless steel base by popping the spot welds one by one while the frypan was in my hand, under no stress whatsoever. A very blantant piece of sabotage to say the least. So..., and I am sure that I have blogged about it at the time, I bought a new frypan with an all aluminum base and thinner sides of chromed steel at a cost of $105, something I could of done without. And ever since, the perps have been going nuts on impairing my motor coordination while grasping and, yes, drying it with the tea towel. They even have the tea towel flipping around in extra-conventional kinetic mode unless I take it very slowly to remove the excuses they take to flick it about while in use. As deranged as the perps obsessions are, they are very consistent in applying their tea towel dried implements obsession in a progressive way, moving from frypans (after starting anew), to a specific knife, and now to cutlery. And as part of this, they have always had me use the minimum of cutlery when eating, as my usual fare is finger food for lunch and dinner, the tortillas dish they have me eat all the time.

I hope that is enough bizarreness for some decent reading, and further confirmation that no one could possibly make this up. And call this one done for the day, with the big excitement being the laundry, yet another perp obsession that this time, I will refrain from describing.

Monday, November 24, 2008

Too Much to Blog About

A busy day today, and I am only getting started now to blog about it, so it all won't get done, and I will continue this posting, or resume with story telling in tomorrow's posting.

I just had a meeting with a supposed local TI, the first such in over six years of making this vile life rape known. (And the sirens have come to join me while I blog, now on the third cascade.) I am not convinced she was legit, and there were plenty of oddities in her story, never mind having the perp's favorite portable color reference object in hand, a 9"x12" yellow colored envelope in her hand the entire time, unsealed even. It was about 40 minutes of conversing on a brown plastic wood bench in a covered courtyard, outside the public library which she said would be open, but wasn't. She gets aerial surveillance and some vehicular surveillance as far as I can tell, not the same level of my profound distortion of conventional reality and relentless mindfuck games. We were about to depart and go our separate ways when a blonde woman exited the adjacent building and "happened" to know the woman TI I was talking to. Another one of those managed "Cheers" events, which was a little too rich for my probability meter. OK, it was a setup, all for having me sit on brown plastic bench for 40 minutes at nightime, under glass and near plenty of red-brown brick, as a setup prior to me returning to my place and having tea and chocolate, albeit a much deeper color of brown.

She seemed to have a Germanic accent in speaking English, and was also slipping in plenty of didactic (noise of excessive street barfing from outside as I type this), statements about "you should do....". Fuck you, I don't need to hear this from anyone, especially a newbie who has at least an order of magnitude less harassment than I do. I got her didactic treatment for medications I take, getting a gaussmeter (been there, done that), become an activist by soliciting for TI's in this town (social isolation is complete, so why change it?), getting binoculars to see her aircraft borne harassors (not mine, hers), and a few others along the way. That must be straight from the perp manual on How To Piss Me Off. My perp abetting father is didactic, and I have no fucking time for anyone to tell me what to do if they don't collaboratively engage with my experiences. And who knows, perhaps there are deeper reasons going back to the lost years of ages 2 to 5, where there is no recall, (purged IMHO) save some sketchy recollections from living in Montreal in 1956 to 1957.

There was some limited gangstalking while we were talking, the most evident being a dude some 50' away, walking toward us, and he had a Caucasian skin toned brown toque on and had his head tipped down, displaying the top of his head. When I first looked I could not make out where his face was, as the touque looked skin colored, and I am sure the perps dithered my perception to "not recognize" what was really happening. So, after a few seconds of stunned gazing at this indeterminate being, he picks his head up and looks forward for me to see that he had a perfectly normal human face, all the more identifiable by wearing dark framed glasses. Just another fucking little game, a whole three seconds of fuckery related to foiling my ability to recognize a face from that distance.

I stayed at the home of the First Feral Family last night after watching Global TV Vancouver news, 60 Minutes, Doc Martin and New Tricks, followed by the CBC news and then the last half hour of a documentary about Tommy Chong, of Cheech and Chong, and his travails in jail. He got 9 months incarceration, and was the celebrity there with many of the inmates mugging for pictures with him. It made for good comedic fodder afterwards.

And I am getting aware that some of the above TV programs are becoming more "involved" or aligned with harassment themes and activities. Last week on Doc Martin they had a psychotic doing dangerous things until brought to justice in an unlikely scenario, and last night it was a septic pipe getting hooked up to the doctor's dishwasher and poisoning the patients owing to a new (blonde) assistant he had while the regular (sly) receptionist was out of town on a course. The shit theme is highly ranked as a perp obsession, related to their brown theme.

Instead of the regular Sunday night Chris Gailius anchor, Global TV Vancouver news had a blonde woman announcer (Anne Drewa) and a substitute woman weather announcer. Christe Gordon is the regular meterologist on Sundays, and is drop dead gorgeous. I could listen to her patter all day long, something that isn't lost on the perps who arrange my parents to be doing odd things when she is on or else having me miss most of her segment, or else only catch her with the mute button still on, or other combinations of sound, sight, TV obstructing (one parent lingering in front of the TV to obstruct my view), disrupting and other stunts that seem to be related to impeding me from fully engaging in her weather report. Last night, there was a substitute female weather announcer who I cannot place in the above link of Global personnel, and I swear, she was just like Christie Gordon in morph-over; only a slightly different voice but with the same patter and cadence, same inflections and emotional content and body language. I remarked on this unusual similarity to my mother, and she gave me some blow-off answer about them being trained the same. I just thought it to be very interesting that they were so alike except in appearance, even their height seemed to be the same. In all of my decades of TV news watching, I have never seen two announcers so alike in their style. Perhaps if I could find the Sunday news from 11-23-2008 and review it I could be better informed on just what was going on, and if it was regular station personnel after all.

Then onto 60 Minutes, catching it 15 minutes into the show because of a change in the channels not reported by the TV shedule, and of course, not finding the channel that lists the channel schedules. This is another perp arrangement, to disrupt the normal viewing times and seed imposed delays and other related fuckery. And I am getting mind-blanked as to what was on, though no major perp themes that I noticed. Then onto Doc Martin, and above mentioned shit story that was making the village ill, originating in his office no less. There is the ongoing on-off romantic interest with Louisa that he seems to quash with his inappropriate digressions into clinical terms. I won't say anything more about this one, as I think the perp themes, if there are any, are much more nuanced and subtle.

The show, New Tricks is about three retired male policemen who are brought back from retirement to investigate old cold cases. They are administered by younger a blonde woman who seems to be a good sport, but also a taskmaster when needed. Some episodes are cleverly wound up, others are left for an inconclusive ending, begetting a WTF reaction, not uncommon with arranged stunts and supporting gangstalker's and operative's behaviors.. Last night's show was about illicit military research into behavioral modification, and how it went wrong, (drinking alcohol at the pub), with memory loss of the three involved soldiers over a fourth man's murder, the latter being a negro. And if you are a regular reader you will know that this is perp heavy content; not only invoking the Unfavored negro and military personnel, but also the topic of behavior control, illicit nonconsensual human experimentation, medical personnel, memory loss and related cover ups. Last night's New Tricks was full measure for being perp themed IMHO.

Then finally, the CBC Sunday Night news journal, always an easy listen as the stories are interesting and seem even handed in their portrayal. I learned that the Canadian stock market and securities regulators are utter wimps, and had enough information to put Conrad Black and his crew of kleptomanical pals in jail, but passed on it, leaving it to the US SEC to begin legal proceedings. Again, no major perp themes I could pick up, so I reckon just the general ones like financial duress economic difficulties would suffice. Who knows what they arrange, be it the events, reportage, news personnel and story editing. It could be some of each, all the way to all of each, and I am the last to know. Though, I have noticed that whenever I have read much about Conrad Black's travails of the past two years, I frequently get noisestalked, and too, when I read his writing in the newspapers, such as one this past weekend in the Guardian.

It is time to call this one done for the day, and I will add more of today's perp and harassment arrangements into tomorrow's blog posting rather than add on to this one.

Sunday, November 23, 2008

Short Post

The overhead stereo noise has just started up; it is the same music that has followed me around in other residence locations in this city. Funny how that happens. And the same music as always, and earlier today; it is a low thumpy bass with a beep tone added on to it. And "somehow", it gets through my earmuffs in its entirety, all of the tones, though it isn't very loud.

Earlier, I was applying for jobs online and as always, getting plenty of noisestalking with plasma and maser flashes, on-screen text morphing, forced burps and farts and the remainder of the directed phenomenon. Then, after all of them were sent off, a sudden "need" came on for me to take a shit. It seems these are also being tactically arranged, just like pee-ing has, per mention in the recent past blogs. And as it "happens" and with accompanying noisestalking, I got two responses from the four job ads, and both were negative. It is to be expected, but it is rare that I even get a reply, so perhaps the perps are moving me up in the complexity of interaction with others. One of the jobs was office cleaning for an hour each day which would of been a nice increment to my disability payments, but the position was taken. I have seen many businesses within a few blocks from here advertise for jobs, so I wonder if this isn't some kind of perp scheme to provide some "exposure time" for my neighborhood merchants.

It is getting to be mysterious why I don't hear from so many prospective employers, and as part of my grovelling for training money for next year, I am to conduct some employer interviews, just so that my case worked knows that I have jumped through all the required hoops. All to keep me spinning I suspect, even if the training budget grant submission will be in August 2009, with dispersements into 2010 no less.

Today was a sheets laundry day, and with me staying at my parents' place overnight, the sheets will get a full day in "fallow", a seemingly more important condition that is imposed upon me of late. They like to have things put into place and then not used for a time. This would include the new safety toed boots I bought in September and the half mask respirator for those "for sure" jobs that did not materialize. Neither of the two temp agencies has phoned me once, with one of them declaring that there is nothing they can do for me. Talk about absurd, but that is how it is, no matter how reasonable and adaptable I present myself.

One job had a three question come on line, the questions relating to working in a dynamic, leading edge business and being obsessive about quality, with the question at the end, "if you replied yes to the above three questions, then we have a job for you". And I did answer "yes" to the questions, and sent off my resume and got a message back saying they cannot find a suitable job for me. It is fucking bizarre for an employment agency to be so pre-emptively discriminatory, as it seems to me, and if anyone has such strange stories about employment agencies, I would like to hear about them. I will take this one to my case worker next Friday and see what she thinks about it.

Time to call this one done for the day, and I expect that I will be tied up all tomorrow afternoon raking leaves again, though I do get paid for it, and I am not complaining.

Saturday, November 22, 2008

Dusk Time Noise Action

The noises have started up again, this being the "silly season" part of the day (dusk onset) for the noisestalkers. And no less, on a Saturday, they have got the church bells ringing, normally a Sunday and a Tuesday practice night event. I recall back to 1966 when we stayed in Britain at my Aunt's place in Chester for three months in 1966 in a small village in Christleton, near Chester. The church bells went on all day for one Sunday, and more than one church too. I asked my Aunt why they were doing this, and she seemed to be somewhat contrite about answering me then, fabricating some reason that didn't make sense. I was 12 at the time, and because everyone of importance was lying to me about the arranged fuckery going on, I wasn't the best person about picking up on lies, but there was something conflicted in her body language that day which I haven't forgotten.

And there is a very long list of individuals in my past who seemed to be doing the knowing smirk, seem truth compromised, making up fallacious stories pointlessly, wide eyed in needless fear (as I knew it at the time) and many other facial ticks that spell lie, duplicity, covert knowledge, or chicanery. When the perps finally let me in on the fact that they had been covertly monitoring and surveilling me for my entire life in late 2002 or early 2003, (overt harassment begain in 04-2002), huge parts of my past all had to be revisited to recast the real truth at the time. And when the fuckery and harassment objectives were transposed as a new layer in retrospect, so much more of it all made sense. Then much later, in 2006 probably, they began to let me in on their memory deletion fuckery, going back to 1956 to 1960, as well of certain incidents when I didn't remember when normally I do.

I don't ever forget a face or a place, and there was one incident in about 1995 when I bought a camera off a guy who advertised it in the papers. It all seemed legit, and then when about to pay him, then I "recalled" that I had been to his place before, perhaps 10 years earlier, and he said no, I hadn't been there before. I was very sure that I had, as I had bought a camera then for my wife at the time, and still had it. He insisted that I hadn't been there before, and the cameras were later found to be legit, not stolen. I didn't make a big deal about it, but only when I retroactively applied the new knowledge of having been sometimes memory deleted did the episode make sense. There was no reason for him to insist I hadn't been there before when I had. And it was the same dude, just older. So it would seem that this highly irregular and egregious lapse in recall (to me at least) was some kind of test; they deleted my recall of being there before and talking to the same dude, and while in the process of purchasing the camera, they allowed me to know what I ordinarily would of remembered. Another mystery solved of the long past.

That is only one of many events that did not make sense at the time, and only did when the model of being remotely dithered with mind invasive technologies is applied. Needless to say, I have reviewed my entire life with this new frame of reference, of being remotely monitored and mind fucked, and so much fell into place, given the ongoing strange behaviors and perp objectives I have come to now know.

My now ex had some terrible memory lapses that just didn't make sense to me, especially when they were in new circumstances when one's recall is highly attuned. She always looked doleful when I would re-state the question about not recalling a specific event where we were both there. She too must have been given memory deleting irradiations, as the perps were still working on how to delete them to a finer level than before, per above camera story. And of course, she didn't want to tip me off that I was being targetted for remotely applied neural monitoring, an ongoing lab rat for the Surreptictious Sickos, the World SS. And since about 2006 the perps somehow gained access to all of my recollections and fuck me out of what I know in any circumstances. And now, they constantly provide recollections that I had long forgotten. In other words, my recall is "better" than it was as all manner of relevant thoughts come to mind in every circumstance. Not that there is anything more important, just more "recollections", supplied by another party with access to every recollection I have ever retained. Over the past year these planted "recollections" have arisen often enough that I was asking myself/them, "how could of I recalled that detail as I had long forgotten it?". Then a noise would go off, effectively noisestalking me as to how I knew what I knew and/or forgotten. In other words, the perps have now mastered remotely applied monitoring of one's self-knowledge, yet another step down the path to total mind control.

Of late, the perps have added more "phenomenon stalking", creating a visual or sensory intrusion at the very moment of me recalling something they hadn't planned for me, or else, in the mental circumstances of accepting or rejecting planted (I assume) thoughts. These are the kind of mind games that are going on of late, them trying to fake me into believing some of these planted notions, especially the odd or irrelevant ones. Andwhen I do question these planted notions, there will be the arrival of a flash on the wall, plasma beam, the text of this LCD will distort for all of a second, a sudden placement of animated dust or "dog hair" in front of me, or other like sensory perturbations of an unusual kind. The incessant noisestalking isn't the entire repetoire of being thoughtstalked any more.

Just as the earmuffs come off, on come the loud mufflered vehicle noises and an itch to the right ear that needs scratching, time without fail. Like I said yesterday, one's hearing must be especially sensitive after having noise blocked out for 15 minutes or more, as the noisestalking is nearly immediate. Even capitalizing on such short time intervals is never overlooked, and is probably managed for as earmuff wearing has increased much more in the past two months. Now jaw crackling noises are erupting, ostensibly the yawning, but as it hasn't happened before, I prefer the more sinister source, e.g. the World SS.

And after a peruse of the local job market there really isn't much that I find interesting. Sometimes I wonder if the job postings that I see are more about eliciting certain kinds of neural responses that are being sought by the tormentors/researchers. Nearly every business around here has advertised at least once, and many of the former businesses that I once frequented when I had my vehicle. I get some noisestalking or other phenomenon stalking when I encounter a job ad from a company I am familiar with. Just that faint signature of recognition seems to be what the perps are managing for in part.

Sometimes I see jobs that are almost arranged for the harassment games; one was looking for help to move a supply of boxes from a region of this city called Gordon Head to downtown. Well, it "so happens" that my parents live in Gordon Head and that I live downtown, and could it be all about replicating my once-per-week travel between the two locations? If it was, they didn't want me in on it when it seemed like a gimme for the perp's greater purpose in figuring out their brown color problem (cardboard color) and the geographic differences between the two locations, another perp obsession. And as mentioned in many past blog postings, the perps like me to be dead wrong in my speculations, and likely planted the notion that it was a gimme job in the first place. So far, I have had very few bites, and even the temp agencies don't phone me back. One even sent me a letter saying they don't have any jobs for someone with my experience. This is patently pre-emtive as how would they possibly know what jobs are coming in, and why didn't they tell me that at the interview? It is all too strange, and like I figure, there is a plan, but I am not allowed to know that yet. They had me on daffodil bulb picking for two months this past summer, and perhaps there are some energetic consequences they have not yet determined, and even a part time job would disrupt this process. Not my problem, so why am I constantly being blacklisted IMHO?

The PC mouse obstruction games are now erupting, for at least the third evening in succession. Only at this time of day does the Trackball mouse "go wonky" for whatever reason the perps have besides to enrage me. Perhaps I should get another one, which might be the real reason for this blatant fuckery. It is something I handle and touch for hours every day, and given that it is of plastic construction, it likely presents some specific challenges to the assholes who hound me in the streets with garbage bag acts, irrigation trucks packing 20' lengths of PVC and other plastics of interest to the Fuckwits.

And a noisestalked tea break is over, along with being rage-ified at least twice with highly provocative incursions. I have found that drying of dishes with a teatowel is a big deal for the assholes, as it gets roundly noisestalked each time I do this. For the most part I don't towel dry the dishes as they spend sufficient time in the drying rack to air dry. This has been the way it has for years, save the frypan which is towel dried each time and while doing that I am especially noisestalked. In 2006 the perps went as far as to break the frypan while it was in my hands, forcing the acquisition of a new one. And still, they get into a total tiz anytime it is dried with the usual teatowel, even forcing me to take longer by interfering with my muscles and hand grip on the frypan and teatowel. After some two years of this, they now seem intent on applying whatever energetic knowledge they have about towel drying frypans to cutlery.

And so another round of intense fuckery began, as this one 3" Spyderco knife doesn't air dry in the dishes rack as fast as the other dishes. So, that forces a towel drying of it, and again, it is a much noisestalked event. If I use the Spyderco knife within some 30 minutes of drying it and placing it in the knife block, the assholes plaster it with more water beads to force a second towel drying just ahead of using it, usually to slit open the chocolate bar foil. This little fucking game of rewetting the knife that was thoroughly dried the first time has been going on for some three months now, and they have me get into a rage-ified total snit over it. And normally, they have changed my voice such that there is nearly a different one each time ("reaction"), indicating they are prepared, and indeed, control my "reaction". This one is for the record, and serves as one of many examples as to how fucking petty, beserk and relentless the Fuckwits are. And I hope, as yet one more example of the sick assholes' beserk agenda that no one could possibly dream up, especially by someone who has never entertained writing fiction.

Here is an interesting four part article on colloidal silver as a supplement and the US FDA attempting shake down the owner of the business, Utopia Silver Supplements. It is just incredible as to what the FDA wants to do, and how they go about it; naked aggressive legal assault. The story contains one startling admission by a judge in his chambers to the owner of Utopia Supplements, Ben Taylor; the judge told him, "this system operates on fear and you're not afraid, that is a problem for us".

These kinds of administrative illegalities prompt me to wonder what is the real agenda, and if the perps are pulling some kind of stunt. It just might be that the ingestion of colloidal silver might interfere with their remote bioelectromagnetics surveillance they like to perform on certain people. In other words, they don't yet know how to model the effects of colloidal silver on one's system, and therefore, have a "need" to surpress this supplement. Or, it just might be the bad large pharmaceutical firms attempting to expand their turf and limit medicinal choices.

I got the perps dithering my facial shaving this morning, and only found out about a few hours ago; they had me "forget" to shave my moustache region, something I never, ever failed to do in 40 years of shaving, and now that they can disrupt long establised habits, they chose to do this for some reason.

That stunt follows a similar one where on Friday morning, I "noticed", or was allowed to see that my previous day's haircut had been extended in the night. There was nothing wrong with the haircut on Thursday, as I had checked in in the mirror. But yesterday morning, I notice that someone had shaved off more hair by my ears, taking a straight horizontal line from the top of my ears to the front temple. I was considerably pissed by this, and per perp fuckery, was led to thing it was the stylist, but upon reflection, I don't think it was. I see plenty of skinheads, mohawks and other weird hair in any week, and I reckon it was the World SS didn't like me doing the same thing to my hair each time I got it cut, and decided to fuck my hair for whatever sick minded purposes they have. Soo... another promise; I will personally bash the fuckers head in who did this to my hair if I ever find out. You have fucked me enough and go and life-rape your own kind for once. Sick fucking assholes, all because they lack the gumption to front for this life raping human experimentation they insist on keeping me in. GO FUCK YOUR OWN KIND; if that means ten times more fucking skinheads, mohawks and the rest of the sick fucking fright doll operatives, I don't give a shit.

I did some putzing around and came up with Alexa, a site that monitors web traffic and submitted this blog. To no surprise, I get one page view per week, or at least, that is what it said. But what was interesting was that this site's create date is;

" was first registered on: 31-Jul-2000"

Funny how that happened, as my first blog posting was April 18, 2006, titled, Getting Started. Could it be that someone arranged this in advance for me, planning the name and the association with Blogspot? It is most odd, and that I even found out, which must be a "gimme". That is, "send the victim on a little investigative tour by feeding him something which suggests covert intent". Something like that, and I have been on many of these little games, and am fed up with them. And a whole 8 site references, two of which seem to have anything to deal with gangstalking, covert harassment and the rest of the incursions of any given moment of my existence.

And I see the Gangstalking World blog is getting plenty of comments on one post, which makes me envious of the attention it gets. This must be a scripted envy session; my intent was to document the daily harassment games, no matter the readership.

A new round of street noise is getting through the earmuffs, one in conjunction with viewing plenty of blue and black colors together as pare of the Indigo Ribbon campaign, supposedly a reminder of being gangstalked and harassed. Time to call this done.

Friday, November 21, 2008

Street Hollaring Yobos

I am getting a run-up of noise while reading a TI's blog, leading with the bullshit street hollaring that has increased in frequency over the past month. That and dog barking, even if no residential properties in this neighborhood allow pets. If I went the window to look out for the hollaring source, it is likely that there won't be one, just like the vehicular noise that has also increased. My theory is that voices, dog barks and other animal sourced noises like the relentless seagull mewing are processed in the emotional part of the brain, the amygdala, and that is where the perps want to explore to then fully control all the neural energetics. The trouble for them, and by extension, me, is that it sits on the inside of the temporal lobes at the junction with the brain stem. Not my problem, so why am I getting harassed over it all the time?

I am not allowed to take a crap without wonderous events transpiring all the time, and the level of intrusion gets worse than that. The latest in mind fuckery is not allowing me to cross "t"'s when handwriting. Fucking sick.

My big outing of the day was to over a block away to a stationary store that had only part of what I wanted in total, to then force a visit to another one to finish the shopping list. One big issue last year was acquiring a diary for 2008; no store had what I wanted and then I "ended up" getting one online at twice the price and no covers as it was a refill. So today, the 2009 diary nonsense was started up, and something different; no corner page perforations to find your place, so I had to opt for one without. The corner tear-offs have become a big hassle as the assholes won't allow me to tear the paper on the substantial perforations, but instead, the tear wanders all over the place. This fuckery isn't too different to that of the ongoing toilet paper perforation fuckery that has gone on for over six years; the assholes won't let me tear toilet paper on the perforations no matter how hard I try and differing manufacturers that I try.

And for about the third time in six years, the perps gave me a whole two minutes without some fuckwit tailing me, or placed exactly where I want to go in advance. But of course that didn't last for long, and some brown dressed fuckwit arrived from outside with coffee in hand (more brown), to the checkout, crossed my path when I went to look for something I couldn't find after my purchase, and then he returned to the checkout for no reason, having come from outside. Thank you Staples, another agency of SS, (Sureptitious Sickos).

Then onto the stationary store that ripped me off for a box of pens last time to conclude the diary acquisition nonsense, and lo, if I didn't get the lead-ahead E. bound auburn hair gangstalker ahead of me for the entire half block, only to be replaced by an identical hair colored W. bound gangstalker who stalked me into and in the store. I got the usual cashier exiting the checkout in advance, then return before I arrived at the checkout, and a tubby dude at that. I have to wonder what all these freakshow acts think of me in knowing I cannot stand the sight of certain Unfavored demographic groups, and are placed as elicitation bait.

The big color for the perps in gangstalking today, for the entire 15 minutes of outing time, was yellow. The ever hikey-bikey acts like to put this color on, and I suppose it was coordinated with the journals that I bought which had yellow colored packing labels on them for the first time. These were substituted for the normal black covered Blueline A9 journals. The new journals were also different in color, a deep dark navy blue. So it would seem that this item that I hold and place over my legs when writing in it is due for a very modest color change to then expedite the perps' games in playing with colors in my proximity. This is the kind of progress they make after six unrelenting years of abuse. Fucking sick as it is stupid.

And lots of plasma games while typing up this blog posting; a yellow-orange horizontal line appears over the line of text where I am typing, and then it moves around and gets skewed some. And more text jumping is going on; faux "refreshes" where the LCD display hops up a quarter inch or so and then back to its orignal position. And I notice, they are timing the hallway noises, the pops, clicks and other transient noise to exactly when the text line hopping is happening. Not enough for the sickos to do it seems. Now, the afternoon darkening down games are beginning, and time to take a break from this nonsense.

A continuing parade of noise from outside mostly; its as if every other vehicle has a bad exhaust or muffler, or else has a "performance" muffler, all delivering the similar long trailing off noise but with differing sound characteristics. And for the tomemtors, this is a big deal; noise sculpting seems to be what they are doing; attempting to map noises with other noises for whatever gain in realtime neural research they are doing on me.

Applying for jobs online was their noisestalking focus it seemed, with a big run-up just before sending the email to the prospective employer. I even get tour buses putting on the vehicular gangstalking outside, at this time of year no less. It is all about what color it is, brown and red in this case with white roof panels. I would see this same bus on the city streets in the summer when waiting for the farm crew bus for the daffodil bulb picking work I did then. Funny how the same large vehicles keep cruising by.

Another arranged event is to have me attend to blog reading, speaking on the phone with, typing the person's name (copy & pasting multiple times) or emailing someone, and then I would be scripted to head out to appointments, or in the case of this morning, shopping. Then when back online after being out, they have me attend to the same person again, possibly catching up on some email they sent me. A split engagement it would seem; engage with a person in a direct or indirect way, send me out to be gangstalked up the asshole for 20 minutes with the freakshow and shiftless fuckwits, and then have me come back and engage with the same person again, directly or indirectly. As an example, I spoke with one of my quisling confreres this morning to ask if it was OK to use him as a reference, and he said it would be fine. Off I went to the two stationary stores per above, and when back on my PC I was placing his name into a document as part of a bid request, but noisestalked all the more. The perps likely have hundreds of these setups scripted for the next year or more. I also notice many more aerials installed in this town when the perps had me as a passenger in my ex's vehicle four days ago. Many of the aerials are flat panels, small dishes, or stylized trees with progressively increasing dipole length along the main beam. Given that I always "forget" to take my camera, there won't be any kind of pictoral display anytime soon in this blog. If someone reading this blog knows what aerials are for what, I might get inspired to get more pictures taken.

A short dinner of leftovers and a kiwi fruit, and then back to online activities, like reading blogs. I see one of my genuine confreres is getting hassled while homeless; I cannot think of a more cruel fate than that. I got at least one staring this week, but for the most part, I get the "look away" appearence, where they are looking sideways while walking forward when there is nothing of interest to command their attention. It is a classic move of the Fuckwits, and apart from the spinal twist they so much like to invoke, especially when they walk around corners, I cannot think why these fuckwits keep doing this.

What I did note when watching the Benazir Bhutto assassination earlier this year was that the deemed assassin did exactly the same thing; he was facing the vehicle, looked 90 degrees to his right, and then looked forward and pointed the gun at her as she was waving through the top of the sun roof, and then the bomb went off, enclosing the assassin in a cloud of smoke. If he was one of the Fuckwits, which I think he was, he could of been safely telported out there without harm. I don't get it from the conventional perspecitve; here the assassin is to pull off one of the most henious crimes in Pakistan's political history, and he looks 90 degrees away from his target before turning toward her and firing the gun. It was most odd, and I don't make a point of watching those kinds of icky things, but "somehow" the perps fanangled me into seeing the YouTube version. And as I am typing this up, I am getting the on/off-ing noise as if my neighbor has a very loud water noise from it running in the pipes, and then repeatedly turns the faux faucet on and off. They like me to notice their goings on and signature stunts, and likely control my cognition of just who might have been the real culprit.

I am going through a mock shopping exercise, likely per my tormentor's direction. I cannot afford anything extra, especially this month with the dental bill, and here they are putting me through the exercise as if purchasing much coveted items of at least 6 months past research. These are all PC upgrade items; more memory, a spare Trackball mouse, a 20" LCD monitor and a video card. As part of the perp's excitement in having me do this, they have added in male voice noise in the hallway and now some fake neighbor water-in-the pipes noise from the same general direction. I don't know what they get out of such an exercise, but at least it hasn't progressed as far as doing the ordering. The routine is selecting the vendor, bookmarking the relevant pages, scoping shipping costs, payment methods and then backing off thankfully. I have never engaged in "wannabe shopping" shopping before, and it is a tiresome exercise to say the least. The worst of it is that they have stopped me from getting a job it seems for the last two months, and of course, no means to afford these extra trinkets they have me covet. Going by past experience they can make one order something you don't want, and then have me toss it out after it arrives. I would never do such a thing either, but again, I didn't have much choice.

The evening time tea and chocolate break is done; the chocolate was fractured in many places besides the score lines, and it seems evident that they like to "explore" all the possible energetic nuances of it being broken up irregularly. This has been happening with other foods, where they break or spread along unexpected paths as part of the seeming effort to sample more of the internal faces than the predictable ones. Hence the above mentioned perforation tearing fuckery that passes for the imposed normal.

I am being kept in an activity slowdown; my reading cognition is getting dithered and I haven't anything else to do. Like situations have occured among past employers and I always wondered why these lulls in work had occured. Now I know; someone gets some kind of advantage in having me do squat, though I have no idea what it could be. Perhaps it serves as some kind of baseline benchmark, and then neural energetics of activities are added onto it as a comparison to being actively engaged. Who would ever think that a covert agency finds some kind of gain or advantage in their victims doing nothing much? The job shutout of the last two months probably serves the same harassment/study objective.

I got some reading in with the earmuffs on, and for once there weren't many attempts to punch noise through them for the past hour. But now that they are off, the noises have started up, which is common; one's ears must be more sensitive after being deprived of hearing sounds with earmuffs. Just another angle the perps consistently work on.

I am done for the day, and don't have much planned for tomorrow, save the weekly newspaper read they like me to do. But one never knows as the perps like to spring me with something unplanned for to take up an entire day.