Wednesday, November 12, 2008

Not Allowed To Press An Elevator Button

The Chicken Run is done, and my posse of scum, Unfavoreds and plastics presentation was in force. And the hole in the floor of the supermarket is still there, and it seems they wanted me to see more of it this time by lifting up the plywood and placing it on edge by leaning it against something, to partially reveal the 8" of concrete slab and the fill underneath it. No one was working on it, and that makes it four days at least for this hole to "fix" a pip supposedly. Given the profusion of streetworks and excavations that go on around me, I cannot see that this would be anything different, except that it is indoors. I have already done such a job in the course of home renovations, at least twice, breaking up concrete to reveal the fill material underneath, and even dig down some more, and then infill it with concrete.

For those unfamiliar with how I use the term Chicken Run, it is the event of me going grocery shopping to purchase a hot cooked chicken which becomes my protien source for the next three to four weeks. Because of this longer term persistence of a food item, always of intense perp interest, the perps ususally engage in dispatching extra gangstalkers and perhaps arranged stunts.

I had my usual gangstalking parade around me for this 10 minute round trip; the faux vagrants, the surfeit of shiftless males with no seeming day job, the plastic "bag man" )gangstalker with plastic bags) "happened" to be the dude from the summer's daffodil bulb farm crew who at first paralleled me, and then went into lead-ahead gangstalk mode to cover me for two more streets to the front of the store, and then another sentry in black at the doorway with something white in hand, and I was in. Other Fuckwits were Asian males without day jobs, the stocking/stalking cart loaded with brown cardboard boxes and with a dude on his knees who later came by while I was at the dairy section, some 40' away. I got screwed into "thinking" (read, dithering of recall and substituted notions) that I needed two more tortilla packages when as it "happened" I had 1.5 on hand in the fridge. This way, they get to have me mix up the tortillas from different shopping visits, and get an unusually big thick stack of them in the fridge for extra brown color games. I got my dudes behind me at the checkout doing the breadstalking, and then getting into serious plastic bag noise rustling while I was keying into the debit card keypad and then paying. Regular readers will know that I am constantly noisestalked and otherwise messed with when paying for anything, at any location, by any transaction means (check, credit card, online, debit card etc.). And they know my password, and probably supplied it way back when, and routinely fuck with the debit card reader and my recollection of my password as well as the keystrokes. Just a simple activity and yet the fuckers keep up this insane and deranged stalking, surveillance and imposed dithering all over the act of financial transactions. They have been totally consistent with this since the overt harassment began with the Fuckwits standing behind me at the time.

Today's take-away absurdity was not letting me press the correct button on the elevator panel on the way back. There was two Asians doing the elevator exit split when I got into the building after another Asian holding the door for me on his exit. One elevator Asian went ahead, and the other cut in front of me to supposedly access the mailboxes. A lady preceded me into the elevator , and another dude was doing the huffing and puffing act as if he was pissed off about something. I was forced to reach across the two of them to access the elevator buttons. The huffing dude got off in the basement, and then the elevator returned to the main floor again in another form of elevator fuckery games. The lady beside me pressed two buttons, and as it "happened" I pressed the 4th floor, and she pressed the 6th (my intended floor) and the 8th. So in other words, they fucked me out of pressing the 6th floor button and had a Fuckwit/operative (British accent, Unfavored) press it for me "in error". This is one example of how utterly fucking deranged the perps are, and represents 6.5 years of accomplishment in harassing the living shit out of my life. As I have said before, they are functionally decomposing everything I do, every keystroke (hence relentless typo sabotage), everything I see and do to obtain some kind of bioenergetic signature from me. It is fucking sick as it is depraved. Even the 6th floor hallway elevator buttons have had the button light defeated, so there is no reminder that it was pressed. And of course they dither my recall to ensure that I press it more than once, especially when they delay elevator arrival. The in-elevator panel button light for the 6th floor is also not working. Too much of a coincidence, especially when the hallway elevator button light was stopped from working, then it was "fixed" and then it stopped working again in the last two months.

Other street action/gangstalkers was having a male skinhead at the front door when I was outbound, hiding him behind another workless dude doing the Socratic debate act in the apartment lobby that erupts all around me. Another street offering was the red plastic empty shopping cart, from a supermarket miles away, "happen" to be passing by as I crossed the street, the Fuckwit having split from his long haired Asian buddy in a sports jacket. These street acts are getting so tedious, repetitious as well as stupid. Another weird was a long haired male with wavy hair who crossed the street after me, and then positioned himself 5' back from the curb directly behind me in some state of designed bizarreness.

I have been getting my street shouters more often of late. I take this to be a left side source of male voice as invariably I cannot distinguish what is being said. Right side voice noise would be that from the hallway, and I get plenty of that, as well as pinging sounds, knocks and others of no ostensible cause. Though, the knocks, pingings and clunkings can come from any direction. It used to be that only the fridge knocked, but now it can be almost any noise. All fridges of the last four residence locations were making knocking noises as part of their repetoire, and yes, they were all different landlord supplied fridges. There are somewhere between 10 and 20 particular noises that each fridge had, and not all were associated with the compressor running; sometimes, like this fridge, "just knocks" anytime the perps "need" that noise to happen in my proximity. I suspect that many noises, especially that of voice, have an initial second or two of cognitive interest before one consigns it to a known source, or just plain perp games in my case. And it is that one or two seconds of cognitive "what is it" that the perps are plumbing for and likely represents brain stem level awareness, about the most basic part of one's cognitive apparatus. As the perps have been zapping me, and sending masers through my neck above my Adam's apple, I can only assume that they are still "at work" (read, depraved harassment from my perspective), in attempting to discover all of the brain's energies by remote means. They have me and my place crawling with maser filaments, beams and plasma beams, all magnetically controlled phenomena, so they aren't giving up anytime soon. I will often see the masers outside on the street, and I wouldn't doubt that they are back to their habits I came to know when they first struck in 2002, their propensity to send a maser beam through someone else in my proximity and have it pass through them to then pass into me. Once might feel a little pulse at the entry location, but not much. The whole body zappings, facial and head whacks of no ostensible cause, and fake touches are all more annoying, and they are making sure that I am plenty reactive (read, swearing at the assholes) these days. In fact, I would say they have escalated the torment since four days ago, on the weekend.

I finally got a call from the job training Opportunities fund manager in town, a training fund for the "disabled" (har, har) a week and a half after my first call to start the application process. This is the woman who discouraged me with a mound of paperwork, recommended another agency (that had no availible funds I later found out), for which I find that there is a straightforward 9 page form to fill out. As part of this "discovery" I find out that there is to be an assigned case worker to go through all the paper work in any event. What exactly this blatant deciet is all about is beyond me, save the general category of imposed adversity, but that covers nearly everything, including above mentioned elevator button lighting and even operating light switches.

I have only one more imposed adversity sponsor on my plate presently, and I hope to get a phone call soon. This second case came out of the blue, as I had an interiew with a recruiter and all seemed to go well, and she gave me the "starter package" of timesheets and the rest of the induction instruction booklet. Then five days later I get a kiss-off email from her stating that they can't help me. I was very flexible, save truly dull jobs that would go on for longer than two weeks or so, and I was clear that I wasn't expecting to get into my past database design career after a 6 year forced absence. And too, I gave a one statement minimal precis of this harassment and tormentors, and she didn't seem to fussed about that. Everything looked good to take on some temp work, and instead, I get crapped upon for no apparent reason. Which might be perp "code" for "don't bother to look for jobs, we have it planned", which is likely true, but they keep forcing me into untenable fiscal circumstances through the imposed chocolate consumption of some $275/month, all for their brown color games in the zone of their most intense focus, the inside of my mouth, only 1/2" from some parts of my brain (ventral prefrontal cortex ?).

Another perp stunt that "happens" often when there is the prospect of employment is for them to plant all manner of covetous purchases in mind. Back in late September when I was hopeful that known "for-sure" employers would contact me, (most didn't), the perps had it planned for me that I would donate to worthy TI causes, buy a scanner that takes slides and negatives, buy a graphics board for my PC and other upgrades and a few other items they have me regularly looking at. So much for all those planted acquisitional notions, and perhaps the next paying gig is in Febuary when the daffodil flowers get picked a piece rate among thieving co-workers. I picked daffodil bulbs for some two months in the summer on an hourly rate, and made enough to nearly clear my line of credit and get some safety toed boots (unused as of yet). I don't want to do the daffodil thing again, and if some abusive Fuckwit wants me there playing in the dirt and in howling gales, have them come in person with a briefcase of cash and drive me there to wander around and whatever else they want. Not my problem, and I don't see why I am involved in this abusive depravity without giving my permission.

The only answer to that is the ongoing stereo noise, the bass notes with flute music, and I suspect that I heard it before in another residence. Imagine, having overhead "neighbors" in multiple residence locations with the identical taste in music. Never mind the same overhead clunkings, kerchunk noise with the soft roll off and many others, going back to mid-2002 when they got into revealing more harassment methods. Now, it is overhead pounding of 12" of concrete floor/ceiling, which may signify a moment of importance to the Fuckwits.

But no phone call (per above) to clear up this mystery that was dumped upon me, and might yet become one of the first libelous jerkarounds they have laid on me as "happening" to many other TI's. The timing was perfect; on a Friday, and in effect, a four day weekend to have me mystified (read, perception of libeled), and lo, no contact today to continue this stunt for nearly a full week. Not even an email response, which tells me that this is obviously a "big deal", engaging in character aspersions and then avoiding contact. I wouldn't mind if it was just a made-up interpersonal tiff, except in this case the entire stream of jobs through this temp agency could become off-limits for all time. A major jerkaround to be sure. Even their Edmonton office expressed interest in me via the shared resume, so it is a huge mystery as to why I got a kiss-off email from this temp office after an encouraging induction.

Dinner is over and the onset of the noise is upon me, seeming to replicate the noises before dinner to a significant extent. That includes the monotonous stereo noise from a "neighbor". Now the overhead pounding has started up to be added into the noise mix. And more fake touches too, as if my arms are constantly brushing along something that isn't there. At lunch, I was 15" from the fridge as I walked by it into the kitchen, and the assholes made noise and planted the sensation as if I had brushed by it. This faked touching abuse is getting totally out of hand. It isn't the 4" away fuckery anymore, it is a total WTF source, an absurdity to say the least.

An overhead pounding noise came with a simultanous whole body zapping, and regular readers should know how much I like that; as in yelling at the assholes which was then followed with outside bus noise. Seems that they were ready.

Researchers show that plants can accumulate nanoparticles in tissues; an article that follows on my recent musings that nanoparticle intake just might be a problem for the perps, hence their obsession in having me wear gloves for certain tasks. Only twice did they let me have wet hands when picking daffodil bulbs this past summer, and it was in the last weeks of the job. My sense was that this was a test for soil nanoparticle intake, even fungi possibly, and they were attempting limited rain exposure with useless sodden gloves to regulate soil nanoparticle intake. Just speculation, but "nano" is a big buzzword of late.

More reading as I troll through my saved bookmarks and get popping sounds in the earmuffs I am wearing to keep out annoying persistent faint sounds that "erupt" much more frequently these days. One interesting site is Rupert Sheldrake and his "morphic fields" and the feature he calls "formative causation". The sickos like to set me up to identify causal source, either them or me, especially for the above mentioned fake touches that occur many hundreds of times per day. They like me to assign who did what, and frequently noisestalk me at this very moment, a common telltale of what they are interested in. Another concept he posits is "telephone telepathy"; I haven't finished exploring this one, but was keenly aware of the possibility when the perps set me up about four weeks ago with a recruiter and some "email problems" such that we were on the phone when I sent emails to her. She tried to send some back to me, but they were getting obstructed, even with another email address I have and rarely use.

More erupting faux male jocularity and street hollaring as I read "The Influencing Machine", a virtual copy from Dr. John Haslam's journals of 1810 that is depicted in the book, "The Air Loom Gang", the link at the right under Books. And then more earmuf wearing time, and when they get uncomfortable (read, imposed mind and body state condition), there is nearly always a hoarse mufflered vehicle doing its grind through acceleration for me to hear. Funny how that is, so consistent.

I think this one is done for the day, and I will publish this, even without extensive editing.

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