Monday, March 31, 2008
A post-stayover day after spending the evening and night at my parent's place, both of them confirmed gangstalkers IMHO. The clattering has started up as I create this blog posting; outside, hallway and upstairs, the latter seeming to be the source of hand sawing noise of an erratic nature. I know all those noises, and whatever is going on up there doesn't make a lick of sense, never mind not having carpets like every other apartment in the building.
I took the city bus into downtown this morning; another freakshow that built up over the ride. A Monday 1037h bus from the suburbs, and yet it gets near full each time, and has very few seat choices when I get on board. Today it was a rear facing seat so I could not see what was going on up front. A blonde on the cell phone for the whole time was in the diagonal seat, and her blue-green leather handbag was directly opposite me. Then incrementally the shiftless males slithered in around her from later stops, all to capture the "auric glow" from blondes and attempt to replicate that as to why I fucking loathe the Unfavored as much as I do. While I cannot answer that question, it seems that the assholes who created that problem for themselves aren't going to bother to tell me, and would rather continue with the bizarre goings on that pass for "normal". Enough weird events go on in a week that should last anyone a year or more, and yet no one will even discuss the cummulative improbability of this entire persecution.
And of course I get the coughing and hacking around me wherever I go, no matter the season. And when it came time for me to get off the bus, why, a sleet flurry had just begun, dropping little prills of white onto the street. I had my bozo show all ready for me when I get off, the Asian sentry woman in a brown coat just standing around in a parking lot, the =dufus riding his bicycle across the crosswalk and looking elsewhere the entire time, and then the security guard having just exited the just arrived amoured van to then parallel me walking on the street, and a few other freaks. Then there was about eight of them outside the apartment, and inside in the elevator lobby, and lo, if there wasn't a "problem" with one being used for moving a bed and steel frame, (no moving truck anywhere), and some other shiftless fucks hanging around, and so I took the stairs instead. It is six flights and doesn't bother me to use them, and lo, if the perps hadn't prepared themselves with spilt coffee on the fifth floor landing. I cannot tell you how many times I get the spilled coffee stunt in stairwells, but it is very common, and originates in the pre-overt harassment days. Regular readers will know that the perps have a total obsession with all things brown, it being an Unfavored color, and routinely expose me to this in all manner of guises. The above mentioned Asian sentry stalker would be a case of brown skin and a brown coat. And there was a tanned skinhead in the above mentioned "greeting" party at the apartment, and another variant was having the skinhead negro loiterer also there in the lobby. And yes, the perps did force me to take a crap this morning at my parents place, and the bathrooms are none too clean.
And no less, they, or more likely the perps, fouled the can of shaving foam I leave there, putting on some blood-like stain on it, as if my father had used it, which he doesn't. In fact, I don't know how he shaves as there is no evidence that he has done so. The entire house is a mess, and would not pass muster in my book for all the debris and clutter that it has. Which makes it a perfect perp setup, as all these odd things that "arrive" aren't as incongruous as they would be at my place. Anyhow, it is clear there is many more brown color themes going on; the clutter in the kitchen has added brown foods and items that they never use, and just "happen" to arrive ahead of me cutting up the roast, another perp obsession of the first order.
I have been putting off doing my income tax for weeks as it is such a hassle in the way of the perps creating all these hoops and "misunderstandings". Finally, I summoned the courage, (read, was mind-controlled as to my motivation), and it was all over in about 10 minutes with none of the fuckery of last year. That is, until I tried to print it, and then the paper supply was mysteriously depleted to force replenishing it in mid-printing, and then the printer would not accept the normal 1/4" thick stack, but instead, less paper was put in, but was only allowed after I screamed at the assholes for fucking me around yet again. That was the net result of at least five jerkarounds all over loading the paper in the printer.
And yes, it was too easy after all. The government tax site would not accept my authorization, even twice round, and so a forced phone call to get this figured out. A fucking orchestrated hassle is always assured when it comes to undertaking any financial matters, save the grocery store.
There seems to be some kind of connection with the color brown and the timing of financial activity. I had just finished eating chocolate with my tea before I undertook my income tax return preparation, and there has been identical timing as to recent online banking activity. Furthermore there has been brown dressed gangstalkers coming from nowhere to arrive beside me at the checkout when paying by debit card for my groceries. Go figure, as I can't.
More thumping from overhead after I created a new file with the aid of a sharpie (felt pen); the noxious chemical smell is also something that favors the perps machinations I have come to know. I recieved a whole lot more of close-in gangstalking after using solvent to clean off the tar they slapped on the fridge at my last residence location, captured in a photo on this blog somewhere.
Finally, after a phone call, I am to understand that there are two types of access codes for filing income tax, different from last year. An access code for filing, and one for my account to see how the processing is going and any downstream communications. Go figure, and all a way to have me take two passes at doing one job; submitting an income tax return electronically.
And lo, if they didn't arrange for me to take crap immediately following dinner, and then have me undertaking the electronic tax return filing afterward. More brown color testing it would seem. More pointless jerking me around as far as I am concerned, and they had me rage-ified while making dinner, screwing me around with crumb inundations, self-propelled cheese crumbs landing on the floor, olive oil flickings and the tortilla mysteriously folding under itself. This is the current state of harassment over six years; fucking with how I make the same food every day. Utterly beserk as it is depraved.
More ongoing pounding as I read about rapacious Microsoft behavior in buying votes for their proprietory standard of OOXML to be adopted by the ISO as "open". It is a technical pissing match to be sure, but it is quite the issue for Microsoft to want to monopolize file formats. They must know something that we don't as to the future of online document storage. And then a big siren cascade erupted as I was putting in the link in this above paragraph; this is an exciting harassment moment for some sick minded fuckups.
After a 10 minute call with my brother, a siren cascade has erupted outside. That is, he phoned me, and got into his usual bitch script about his time constrained life. He has never articulated anything different, despite all my exhortations for him to get out of his rut. Anyhow, I suspect it is all about using certain perp theme words which I won't get into, so I won't feed the beast anymore than its current rapacious state.
Another outbreak of overhead pounding and then a coincident zapping. Yelling at the assholes seemed to help, though it is too early to be sure. The big excitement moment it all happened when I read the very name of a certain nameless metal that my brother "happened" to mention in our earlier phone call. Funny how these coincidences "happen", and now I get zapped for it.
More pounding has erupted overhead while I read an interview with Jim Keith, a conspiracy author. For those who don't know, I live in a concrete building on the sixth floor, and from what little I know about the construction of such buildings is that they have about 12" of concrete between floors. So how can all these noises truly come from human habitation in a carpeted apartment?
Time to call this day done, and blog off. There has been a considerable amount of noise tonight, and has been invariably coordinated with other noise, e.g. clicks of no ostensible cause, zappings, smells (still jamming Sharpie chemical smell up my nose after I had opened the window and turned the fan on for 30 minutes- a temporal neural sampling series with the same stimulus it would seem), vision impairments, plama games on the LCD display and other fuckery not allowed to be recalled.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
The post mealtime silliness has started up; the clunking from putative neighbors again. Not only are they the one apartment "with" noncarpeted floors, (otherwise there would be no clunking), but they are perenially moving them in the same way, most often after meals.
And a rain shower also unloaded at this time, changing up the noise of passing traffic, duly amplified as always. The seeming excitement for the perps was scraping my left knuckle again, one week after blatantly cutting it in the night and delaying its healing all to keep a red sore there for their color reference purposes. I was making lunch and "attempting", per imposed adversity, to open the plastic tub of tapenade up when "somehow" the knuckle got scraped and lo, blood began to flow. Therefore, a band-aid was placed on it, all to hold up making lunch at that juncture, the tapenade tub being open for longer, and of course, have this fabric color reference object on my left thumb. Regular readers will know that the perps just love to have their not-so-secret agents with band-aids on them, the most absurd to date was the dude in front of me on the bus with it stuck on itself and projecting off his ear by two inches.
So while my left thumb was bleeding, and while the band-aid was being applied, the perps put on a huge siren cascade, but no emergency vehicles, just the noise. It wasn't that big of a deal but the perps made sure that my "reaction" was one of being frazzled and vociferous over the imposition of the added hand shaking fuckery to create extra difficulty in applying the band-aid, which could be named perp-aid or brown-aid. Regular readers will know that the perps are obsessed over the color brown, and take great care in introducing me to this color, usually incrementally, and begining with tan browns first. Anyhow, I have this fucking band-aid stuck on my thumb for the afternoon, and no doubt is it serves some color referencing purpose.
I had the usual noistalking while reading blogs before lunch; this is a big deal for the perps of late, hounding me while reading blogs, most often on the personal ones. Which does cause me to wonder what is it that they are looking for when I read a blog, especially about someone?
Some pictures for some relief;
Here is what happens to my laundry after coming out of the dryer. I have had this workout shirt for some four years, but that wasn't good enough for them. So they decided to variagate the grey tones on it under the arm, a location they cannot access enough for their needs, hence the ludicrous public "outbreaks" of left hand drive pedestrians, sometimes four in succession. Changing my shirt color under the arms is another stunt to aid underarm energy reading, or whatever it is that they are doing.
Back to the six month long (so far) public works project the perps put on for me in reworking some road levels and adding in large runs of PVC pipe under the road. This is the morning after a concrete pour for the sidewalks, and most mysteriously the plastic that they leave over the curing surface has all lifted up and "somehow" been stuck to vertical surfaces, one after the other. I have never seen anything quite so ordered and ludicrous (must be a theme word today) at the same time. Only the day before, after pouring, the poly plastic was laid over the concrete to keep it moist so it cures properly. The next morning, all the plastic had lifted off by itself and stayed in this vertical position, all with no seeming "workers" around. Nothing new there. Taken at 0821h on 03-21-2008.
The same thing as the above photo, and I was mind-fucked into "thinking" it was different. This shows three outside lights that are still on in the daytime, something the perps do for me everywhere.
These two were taken yesterday, 03-29-2008 at 1608h, emulating a dusk onset I reckon, before dusk though. They darkened down the skies and put in a couple of rainbows, something they also do for me, though rarely. (About the third time in six years or so). The only other significant timing to this show was that I was digesting my tea and chocolate from my teabreak. Regular readers will know about the perp's brown color obsessions, and that eating chocolate seems to be their way of having me place this brown colored substance close to my brain, as it would be less than an inch away from the inside of one's mouth. I never had a chocolate affliction before the harassment started, and it has been a 220g per day "need" ever since, blowing my food budget every month now. Given that brown color is not part of a rainbow or "natural" spectrum must give the perps additional challenges in replicating it, and this seems to be some attempt of "color sampling".
Having the building blocking the rainbow would be another test; to see what light energy, or other energy more likely, passes through the concrete building with the remainder of the rainbow plainly visible as a control. Not that I care much, as this is benign as far as harassment stunts go. The building's color is not pink, and "somehow" the color rendition of my camera is getting jerked with.
This being Sunday means a trip to the First Feral Family tonight, all to be gangstalked by my parents in this ongoing quisling fuckery that I am mind-fucked into putting up with. The perps even run me to be extra derisive and critical of the fucker's feints and dodges, especially my father's back and forth walking, all for no seeming purpose, and usually in front of a door frame, and then from behind the adjacent wall. Another regular stunt is to have him stand in a doorway, but not in view and with a table lamp behind him casting his shadow into the room I am seated in. I suppose the perps want to calibrate his entire bad vibes, and maybe a shadow is an interim step between seeing him, and not seeing him, but knowing he is lurking just out of sight. It is fucking absurd to say the least, and I have reamed his ass about standing in my view of the TV, and he gets pissed about it, but somehow knows exactly what I am complaining about. This situationally variable dementia he has is something the perps have me monitor all the time as well. His purported medical condition is a fucking fraud and he knows it.
On Monday mornings when my father goes to adult day care, there is someone like him who often "shows up" if I am in a public area, and the asshole is often staring at me in readiness when I turn around and observe my proximate gangstalkers. Other likenesses have also "showed up" in my proximity, often to replicate only one aspect of him; posture, height, appearance, age staring habit etc. More of the fucking idiot show as far as I am concerned.
A yawning "outbreak" with simultaneous plasma projecting off the LCD display while looking at it, and some overhead tapping and clunking. Other than the PC, there seems to be an all-quiet order in effect where the usuall litany of noise goes quiet save some selecting noise at the specifi moment, augmented by yawning no doubt.
I had my tea and chocolate and the overhead clunking duly started up in short order. I am going to get picked up in half an hour, so I suspect that having 100g of brown chocolate in me will be the gangstalking attraction. The number of dweebes in the elevator accompanying me is also a good "tell".
Time to call this one done, even if I am getting the forehead numbing torture currently.
Saturday, March 29, 2008
I was given a 10 hour sleep last night with no recalled interuptions or other testing games they like to pull. This all put me at 1015h before I was "game ready", having had breakfast, shower and a shave. The film director came by at 1015h just after I sat in my chair and through about three PC reboots, this little game I get to play with the perps. She told me that the group photo session from the tower across the street was running late, but to watch for her on a balcony. Of course I wasn't allowed to ask here any specifics as to how late, when would she be there and which floor level and balcony. And the perps had totally screwed me out of recalling this event, even if written down in my calendar book.
Anyhow, about a half hour later after being directed to looking at the wrong balconies, there she was with a camera and tripod. And so I "hung out" on the balcony, something I don't ordinarily do as I don't care for heights, and don't find it very comfortable out there. Of course there was no communication as to how she was progressing and why this was taking so long, after all, it was with a still camera. While I was essentially gangstallk bait on the balcony, the gangstalking show began.
There were shifts of N. bound gangstalkers, some three or more individuals exclusively heading the same direction. Then in a few minutes, a S. bound gangstalking troup, wearing red on either side of the street. Then a brown vehicle packing red furniture passed between the gangstalking parties, and so it went, having red dressed gangstalkers walking between black dressed gangstalkers, one on either side in a three abreast configuration. And of course, many red colored vehicles passing by. And as it "so happened", the red light of the power bar that runs this PC was left on, having "forgotten" after the PC reboot sessions beforehand. So, red lights behind me, and a whole lot of street traffic, ambulatory and vehicular in red colors. As part of this exercise there was some sunshine games; sunlit, and then it was behind a cloud. After some 15 minutes this bait show ended, as I then heard the film director's voice clearly for the first time, that she was done.
Ever since, I have been holed up in front of the PC, having a "shut-in" day, and not even an ounce of motivation to go out and get a newspaper, the weekend edition. This is how most Saturdays go; they like me to have at least two consecutive days of shut-in time before Sunday when I often go to visit my parents in the First Feral Family context, having them gangstalk me instead. In other words, there won't be anything too exciting to report today, unless something totally odd comes from left field.
But it seems that sun exposure, either directly or ambiently through cloudy conditions seems to be a big deal for the perps, and it just may be the reason for shut-in days, they want some "sun recovery" time. Sunlight is a big part of the harassment game, and I have no idea, but it fits into the Thomas Townsend Brown story, as he was a naturist. The book in progress about Brown mentions photonic meson interactions, and particle physics was not his specialty. No doubt some huge energetic research objective related to sun and magnetosphere interactions has been heaped on me as well, as it it clear that "mere"100% mind control isn't enough if the noisestalking coincidences are reliable as I think they are. Normally I don't sunbathe, and have found it to be tedious, though the perps tell me that this summer is different. Who knows, and I don't have a vehicle to take myself off anywhere, so it could be entirely bullshit. One never can trust what anyone says, even this telepathic feed that I get, as it often a ruse to set up false expectations, one of their biggest stunts; that is, setting up some arrangement and have it not come off for any reason.
Some relief; pictures from this month
Lined up outside in the street parking stalls are three white colored vehicles and one silver grey colored vehicle, perhaps a little more grey than the common silver grey. Taken 03-16-2008, 1033h. Rather strange for a random parking, but that is nothing new to me anymore.
Around the corner on the street on the left (above) is another arranged lineup of vehicles. On the right side, from left to right is a mid-grey, silver grey, the white ladder truck and a mind-blue. Also note the "secret agent" on his cell phone and holding a plastic bag at the corner. On the left side of the street is a deep green colored vehicle behind the gear on the power pole, two white colored vehicles, a burgundy red vehicle and then a silver gery vehicle by itself. A very common color combination, putting deep green and deep red together with white and silver grey vehicles, but if you are a new reader, or not a TI, you will have to take my word for it. Ladder bearing vehicles, mostly vans and pickup trucks are also a common occurence in my proximity; I have never seen so many ladders before. Taken 03-16-2008, 1033h.
Still the same day, now 1048h 18'sec., a white vehicle "replacement" has arrived, somehow coordinated with the departure of one vehicle and the arrival of the black vehicle. A plastic bag has been stuck in the tree all winter now, and it seems to be another remote assay diagnostic tool.
Still the same day, now 1048h 26'sec., two vehicles arrive and are stopped at the traffic control. The leftmost vehicle is a white colored pickup with a white canopy, and has stopped to straddle the stop line, a routing occurence in this town now, or at least when I am out. And also, a red vehicle as part of the arrangement, stopped some two carlengths behind for some mysterious reason, again, nothing new in my proximity. A strange sequence, and if I really wanted to, I could make a career out of recording odd vehicle color formations. Red vehicles seem to need to have white and silver-grey vehicles around it as a calibration (or whatever) aid. Hence, having vehicles backup toward me is popular, as there are both red and white lights ablaze.
Listening to YouTube tracks and videos; the perps playground of messing with voice and video synchronization, video rendition -smeared, narrowed heads, grungy sound, truncated video and a host of other possiblities to mess with it.
Time to blog off and call this day done.
Friday, March 28, 2008
I was enlightened by way of scripted look at the Blogspot total of all my postings, now 603. That isn't any big accomplishment by my standards; it shows that I have way too much time devoted to detailing the daily travails, usually while noisestalked, and often when the perps have scripted a transitory writer's block as to my vocabulary, assuming it is mine.
This being a Friday, there is no scheduled activities, and it might be all about keeping me inside for the most part, save a later short grocery shopping visit. I got screwed out of getting milk yesterday, and with the milk going off early as it now does, it could ruin the entire cereal I have readied in the bowl. Been there, done that, and at least once when my defensive knowledge was blocked from my recall.
And as this was the first day of using the Pantene shampoo and conditioner, this time with the labels on them to say which is which, it just might be an exciting moment for the perps when I step outside. This is the kind of thing that they plan for over weeks until its inaugural use merges with other supportive scripted events, like pissing me off, which is a given.
And there are way too many red flashes coming off this LCD display right now, exactly over the line of text that I am working on. Time to cease journalling for now.
As predicted, the grocery store outing of 10 minutes duraton was a big gangstalk event. They even brought on a rain shower to unload on me when walking back, the 2 minute commute/direction that it was. The street vagrant acts were out, as was at least one male "do-rag" act, the latest in strange headgear for males to wear, and at least the third instance in the past two days. The bendover/head bob act was in front of the goat's milk, as were another three gangstalkers "standing around", and they weren't going to move any. So once the head bob act cleared enough space, I went in and got the goats milk. And lo, if the asshole didn't return to the exact same location and configuration and do his head bob with the empty space of the goats milk that I had removed. The before and after gangstalking of goats milk from the shelf of the cooler. Obviously, as they nearly always swarm me at the milk section, there is more work (gangstalking) to follow. And lo, if the "customer" ahead of me at the checkout didn't have milk on the conveyor belt with his brown colored Werthers sweets.
I was tailed when coming back from the grocery store, and the on-street cretins/freaks that I saw when headed to the grocery store were in place on my return. The walker act was the most egregious, but this is getting very common now. The putative schizoid ranting outside while leaning against the local Starbuck's storefront glass over two sightings an hour apart last week has to be the biggest feint yet in that regard. But I am sure there are many more improbable stunts to follow, as that seems to be the intent.
Once I was back and had my coat off, and before I unpacked the groceries, the film director woman came by and gave me the Air Loom Gang book as a gift. She said she would loan it to me on Monday, but made some excuses up as to her change in mind. I indicated my gratitude, honestly given, as she had to depart she said. Anyhow, I have been promoting this book for over a year as it clearly demonstrates mind control being applied in the UK Parliament in 1796, as per the excerpt in the script I published here. It should be good reading if the portion that I read of the film director's excerpt she sent me is an indicator. (This formed the basis of the script which is highly abridged). The parallels of the political situation of the day are nearly identical that the US faces now; a pointless and unpopular foreign war for no ultimate gain that had been going on for six years when the story was written. I wondered why the book was allowed to be published, as it clearly indicates that mind control was being applied to the Prime Minister of the day, and the Opposition Leader in the form of a beam that the central character could see. Any TI would instantly be astounded as to this action-at-a-distance technology being so accurately described in the book, so I suppose the perps want the rest of the population to react in disbelief. (A book review is to follow whenever I get to read it, at least a week I suspect).
That I had tea and chocolate after I put the groceries away was also a bonus for the perps I suspect; they like me to eat brown colored food and put on a sustained and escalated noise campaign while eating and for the following hour of digestion.
The clunking from various sources has become the noisescape for the past 30 minutes. There are at least three sources, and it is most curious how they can all temporally converge, along with the odd overhead thump which may have included a mild zapping with it. I cannot always tell if I am zapped for sure if it is a mild one; my detection level/abilities might be the subject of their efforts to quantify in their realtime measurements of my neural responses.
Another forced nap earlier at 1700h, the sleepies came on such that I needed to nap, and surprise, it was only for 50 minutes, not like some of the two and three hour time wasting events that typify this imposition. I had dinner immediately afterward, and I was still kept in the sleepy state for that, so I am sure this was all planned with the pre-dusk onset in mind as that is a big deal for the perps.
I am reading about Kozyrev and his investigations of gravity, torsion fields, and their interrelationships. It is all very fascinating, even if the perps will only allow me to read the article from back to front, much as they have always done. I thought this excerpt below was most interesting as it explains why the perps don't like me to eat fruit; so to avoid the inclusion of left hand spinning molecules of the sugar. And in another instance when I cleaned up their tar mess on my fridge, images in a past blog posting, there was a surfeit of gangstalkers all over me when I went shopping afterward, a 12 minute walk in each direction from that location.
The article discusses some current day problems with physics theory, and indicates that the spongy structured solids retain their spin energy the longest, where denser objects will release it. And that may explain why they have trained me to be a fastidious nit about cleaning the counters with a sponge after each use, in the kitchen and the bathroom. I was never so fastidious about cleaning in these locations before, but now it is "routine", per mind-controlled imposition of course.
Subsequent discoveries in quantum physics related to the notion of “spin” confirmed that “electrons” will either have “right-handed” or “left-handed” spin, meaning that movement is detected that will either be clockwise or counterclockwise. All atoms and molecules maintain varying degrees of balance between right and left-handed spin.
Kozyrev determined that strongly right-handed molecules such as sugar can shield torsion effects, whereas strongly left-handed molecules such as turpentine will strengthen them.
Anyhow, some scientific articles are allowed to be understood, and this is one such paper. Nothing too technical, but it indicates that high school physics doesn't cut it any more; there are some serious anomalies that require added explanation.
Some more torsion field discussion and links tomorrow as I am running out of gas, as boring as this day has been, even if they were all over me for the 10 minute round trip to the grocery store. The email drought continues, and even the spammers "know" to leave me alone.
Update; I was led through some of my old blog postings in a mind-controlled quest, and lo, if the above details about Kozyrev and the electron spins of sugar and turpentine weren't already mentioned and I was not allowed to recall this as I surely would of. Anyhow, the first posting is here, and at least I am consistent, or more like, allowed to be.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
This being Thursday, it is yoga at 1130h and gym later than 1430h, and this is the hour break between the two.
The title refers to the fact that the perps had me covered for the color brown when going down in the elevator. An Asian man with his navy blue tubular framed like folding chair was in place when the elevator came. Two floors down the large gutted manager gets on with a grey plastic bin on wheels full of pizza boxes (brown cardboard). He goes one floor down and gets off and a navy blue coated Asian woman gets on in his place. Once the elevator arrived at the first floor I was "pig in the middle" between the two elevator Asians heading out the door. Regular readers will know that the perps' brown color obsession extends to skin tones, and they have even tested me out on brown skinned Caucasians and bleach white Asians. The all time ludicrous event was putting on adult Asian twin males, one dressed in light blue, and the other dressed in a mid brown color, identically tailored garments, walking in file when I was hiking in 2004 through 2006.
Once outside of my apartment and headed to yoga, at the first intersection (only 100' away) there was the navy blue coated bag lady act pushing a shopping cart, and "attempting" to get it up the 1" rise in the curb ramp, creating a pinch point on the sidewalk. Then Mr. Operative comes sweeping toward me and through this 3' space, and with the bag lady still "struggling" with her shopping cart, I had no other place to go but to pass through this pinch point that had already been swept.
Then another shopping cart act after I turned 90 degrees to head to yoga, about 80' away, the bearded wonder in the ball cap and shades pushing a blue plastic constructed shopping cart with a large plastic bag collection on board. Then other feints and dodges before I got to the church where the yoga class is, and lo, if there wasn't four white vehicles parked in file in the street parking stalls outside. Just the usual. And when I got out, a white and green commercial laundry delivery van parked in the driveway 10' outside the exit doors, sitting there for no apparent business reason. (And nearly identical to a recent past situation where the dude was sitting in his running vehicle in the very same location for no reason whatsoever)
At yoga there was the check-in and I mentioned the film and film script activity of this week, all to peals of feigned "wonderfulness" among the class. It was fucking absurd, and it isn't the first time a positive event gets an overly rapturous reception. Anyhow, that was over with and then the first thing we do in yoga is move our mats 90 degrees to have our backs on the floor and feet up on the chairs that lined the room. These were with brown colored vinyl seats and wooden legs and frame. I was truly browned again as the adjacent (3') grand piano has a brown canvas dust cover.
Then the yoga instruction began in earnest for a few minutes before the instructor decided to relocate herself to the opposite end of the room, and mentioning to me that I needed to turn around on my mat. So I did, and it seemed that everyone else knew it was coming and did not need to relocate or reorient themselves on their mats. The interesting thing was that the person who caused the instructor to not see them, and the seeming need for her to relocate her mat, was advised over three weeks ago that the instructor didn't want her to locate her mat there. I think she tried this again the next week and was also rebuffed. So she tries it two weeks later and the instructor doesn't say anything, and instead moves herself across the room, dragging her bright pink mat behind her. I have noted extensive mat moving in the past, and this wasn't too exceptional. The instructor relocating her mat put this woman who was formerly in front of me to behind me for the rest of the class. Obviously the perps needed some in-class re-orientation for whatever reason; I suspect this woman is someone whom I know, as she has been given a lot of attention in the yoga class of late.
Yesterday I "happened" to be reading about yoga mats and their recyclability, to find that they have extensive PVC content as well as phlalate content, both of which the perps have identified as pollutants that are giving them a whole lot of "problems" in being able to read me from afar. Not that I care any, how about leaving me out of it; why does a covert agency concern itself over such pollutants residing in me and yet lack the gumption to face me in person?
As usual, there won't be any answer to that while they keep up the brown stalking, bread stalking, wood stalking and the rest of the nutters and feints.
I am getting the sleepies, the barely aware state with minimal engagement. Hopefully this blogging spell will bring me to, rather than having a nap. I did my gym class in the afternoon; a five freak showing and a couple of normals. It was the disgusting bald headed act that was mostly featuring itself; it was there every time I looked around, there he was. And Fatboy accompanied me for the last block of my walk when headed to the gym, getting ahead of me by 10' when inside and in lead-ahead gangstalk mode, all the way into the change room where he keeps his clothes in a white plastic bag. I haven't seen anything quite so gauche, but there is always a first time.
The instructor made sure to "mix up" his vinyl workout ball with mine at one point, a cute trick that. The seedy Ethnic Gut dude was beside me in the floor exercise room today, normally they keep him about 10' away with at least two intervening class members. The usual 500 to 1,000 mobile gangstalking vehicles in formation while I was walking to the gym and back. The navy blue and mid-blue colors were highly favored today in the vehicular gangstalking formations as I had a mid-blue shirt on with a navy blue jacket. Just too exciting for the mental cretins that continue to hound me all the time.
I got another bait and switch stunt when walking back; the blonde (Favored) in a black puffy jacket about 20' in front of me, was walking toward me, and then about 6' from the right side a negro dude (Unfavored) "happens" to arrive and crosses in front of the visual line I had on the blonde. He wasn't the only negro on gangstalking duty today, there were at least two others. One was with a Caucasian dude, side by side and coming toward me at the doors to the gym, and then they turned 90 degrees 5' in front of me to head into a side door, a common dodge/stunt they arranged when the expansion was completed in 2005.
The upgrade to the OB Recreation Center was begun about the time the perps decided this was going to be a long term harassment project in 2003. After the illegal incarceration in the hospital for five months where the all the fucking "patients" were on gangstalking duty, and the rest of the nightmare goings on, the perps must of figured out that this assault and criminal harassment was going to be a long term exercise, and then the OB Recreation Center was given a big expansion. As the perps expect some kind of gains to be had in having me work out, they decided that I was to be doing gym work and that gym was upgraded. I had already been working out for over two decades in swim clubs, and aerobics in the two years prior to the harassment onset, so it is a big part of the entire fuckery operation.
Other onstreet stunts and appearances was a "workman" with his PVC white bucket with a 12" band of coated in tar on it in lead-ahead gangstalking mode, 12' ahead for about 20', and then he went to the base of a telephone pole and slammed some black PVC pipe sections into the pole. Like who in the fuck would do that, as he slammed them all the way into the pole at and angle. I assume this was more PVC testing, stressing it (by hammering on it), while also getting a reading through the telephone pole. Fucking bizarre to say the least. And the ashphalt/tar on the white bucket act was likely to emulate PVC pipe in the ground, underneath the asphalt pavement, like the recent street work projects that can be seen in past photo images.
When viewing myself in the exercise room mirrors the plasma coming off me was so thick that I could of sworn it was a fog. It was an energized cloud of much greater clarity than some two months ago; the other class members/gangstalkers were less fogged. The perps also treated me to some new plasma displays while in there, different from the myriad straight line beams I get all the time, though there was plenty of them too, emulating the brick red 30' long 4" baseboard vinyl in three differing projections. The new plasma display was a bright pink spatter of plasma 1" dots corralled as if in the bottom of a window, 12" x 12". Why they treated me to this I don't know, but it was on the spectacular side up in the rafters of the room.
On my way back from the gym I stopped in at the local supermarket and had my posse of gangstalkers around me; one Asian woman doing a bend-over at the chocolate section was a little over the top, but she was not alone as the near ubiquitous stocking cart was beside her with a Caucasian "staff" (gangstalking) dude and the prerequisite stack of brown cardboard boxes. Brown on brown again, and not too different from the elevator ride mentioned above.
I had a threesome granny swarm at the doorway of the supermarket when heading out; less than the swarm of about five or more at the same location and circumstances as the last time. There were eight of them ringed around me on the main floor of the apartment once I got back with my groceries. One pair was on plastic bag duty, having two large garbage bags of tin cans and coming from the elevator. Time to cease wearing these bright blue shirts it seems as it attracts all this unneeded attention and stunts in public.
I also got a staring when walking past a bus shelter; the act didn't look too convincing from afar, and as I passed by I cased out the dude, and there he was staring at me with his mouth hanging open, the guppy pose. It is fucking bizarre that there are assholes who have me lined up for me to then look at them. Another freak enroute was a very large woman who was at the hospital (2003 incarceration) when I was, just standing on the sidewalk in shorts, doing squat/looking stupid. This was within 6' of the location where a fucker crouched down over the sidewalk two days ago, also having no cover story for loitering there. Anyhow, neither of us seemed to want to say hello, so I passed by this woman without looking much at her. Past setups have taught me that I don't have a lot of choice as to where I direct my attention, and if there was a greeting scripted my attention would of been directed so it would be impossible not to engage in pleasantries. This is the second such hospital (2003) gangstalker that has "shown up" in the last month, the negro dude named "Kenny Boy" long before the nickname was publically known for Ken Lay of Enron notoriety, put in two showings in the same vicinity, the last in his ridiculous burgundy beret, and not having aged a minute from the last time I saw him five years ago. Same for this large woman, she really hadn't aged either.
I also am getting a regular shift of gangstalkers that "show up" in nearly the same location each Tuesday and Thursday when walking to or back from the gym. The putative explanation is that they have regular commitments at the same time as I do, and "happen" to be walking or cycling to them. Not a one of them has a story that holds water, as there really isn't much they could be headed to E. bound, and it isn't very likely that they have downtown work commitments at about 1415h W. bound. This crew of "regulars" has expanded from one to three over the past month, and this week appears to have increased again by at least another two, making five in total. More bizarre games, having these regular "commuters" cum gangstalkers.
Onto some science, or as good as I am going to get under the present information constraints I live under. Here is a piece by Charles Tart on auras, and detecting them when the person is not visible but their aura is. Needless to say, this is a huge part of the gangstalking, having partially revealing themselves, so their aura would be more visible than they are. Which is about 90% of my father's gangstalking when I visit the First Feral Family, usually on Sundays. And he loiters in the doorways to rooms, so I see his shadow before he comes through the door. This is the same fucker who sold me into this fucking outrage from birth, and here he is gangstalking me under the cover of his dementia act. Fucking stupid, and scurilous. A selected quote from the above link;
Now we know that there is a physical aura. For instance, a person is sweating: this means that there are a variety of organic molecules mixed with water vapour in the immediate vicinity of his body. A person is usually warm with respect to his surroundings, so there are thermal gradients and resultant air currents in the air immediately around him. Thermal (infrared) energy is being radiated from the body. There is an electrostatic field around a person, and electrical ion fields (ionized particles and gases) surround him. Electromagnetic radiation (radio waves) in the microwave region of the spectrum is emitted at a low level, (note 5) as well as low frequency electromagnetic radiation of up to one hundred kilocycles being generated by muscle action and possibly radiated (Volkers, 1960). At any given time, any or all of these possible "auras" may exist in a complex mixture around a person's body.I hadn't quite encountered a scientist declaring that there is a human aura with such certainty, but here it is, though I have yet to find if he has some photographic evidence.
Some overhead sourced pounding with simultaneous zapping while reading about auras. Like I say, everything I do, think or say is noisestalked, all to analyze deep neural bioenergetics, taking it one step further than bioelectromagnetic dynamics.
I cleaned up the Favored and Unfavored posting, as it had grammatical errors in it as I came to appreciate when I got sucked into printing it in anticipation for extra material for the film script. As it happened, the film script went twice as long and there was no way this posting was needed. The "need" seemed to be that the perps wanted me to pack around some extra paper that wasn't read, save once, to compare to the script paper that I read countless times. And of note, the film director did not want to add any of the gangstalking still photos into the film, a reversal of her stated interest. Anyhow, the filming and prior script development went reasonably well, and could of been hacked and sabotaged into a nightmare scene if they so wanted.
Time to call this day done and blog off. I don't know if anyone is using the labels feature to keep up the activity, as the list is getting longer than I can manage.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Back onto a new posting, and I am sure having posted a minute ago, and now beginning a new posting immediately afterward is an exciting test/harassment moment for the sickos that have kept up the vision fucking this morning and the "regular" hallway noises, as if the "neighbors" kept their hours in concert with mine. Which is the case, but it does not come from any neighbors, and I have a sense that there are precious few who actually live in this apartment block. Ms. A, the film director from two days ago claims to live two floors down, which she might if she is an operative, especially one that has been prominent in the story and the rest of the harassment since, see below as to my speculations. She "happened" to be across the street at an intersection yesterday, a common occurence, arranged of course.
Other gangstalking dweebes have "shown up" at recent intersections, even if their past props as business proprietors has ended with the business closing over two years ago. Which translated, the business wouldn't of been there if not for the harassment games as it was a laundromat that I took my clothes to when I had my vehicle. It was faster to take the clothes there than fuck with the games over the in-apartment laundry facilities at that particular residence location. Anyhow, this woman, once the proprietor until late 2005, also "happens" to show up recently locally, and then twice at a very unfriendly pedestrian intersection with her "friend" who often lounged around at the laundromat whenever I happened to be there. Talk about fish out of water, and here they are reprising as a pair again two blocks away from the laundromat some two years after it has closed.
Regular readers will know how much attention my laundry gets from the perps, and the above laundromat proprietor games is one such extension where the laundromat personnel now do street gangstalking instead. I intend to update the Thomas Townsend Brown posting, as I recently learned he ran an commercial laundromat, and lo, if my brother doesn't run one too. Amazing how these same themes keep resurfacing some 40 years later, except that they are loaded on my back for the fuckers' research purposes.
I survived doing my usual later morning web browsing earlier in the day, which was probably what this entire early start was about. The timing of the daylight seems to become a bigger issue of late, so having me do my later morning activities, my regular web news browsing, in the early morning before sunrise is a big deal for the small minds that are my tormentors.
Plus, they disrupted the breakfast routine; the latter part of my typical breakfast was at 0300h, and I showered and dressed after that. Then around 0800h, with the daylight coming through, I had the first part of my usual breakfast, cereal with hempseed added. By then I had been up for five hours and was dressed the entire duration. After that, I did my dental hygeine, another perp interest, and then I had a forced crap. I will leave it at that, except to say the entire morning has been mostly backwards, something the perps like to do. The big question is this a new fuckery front, or is it just a one time deal? Hard to say, as there has been so much disruption this week so far, begining with staying here Sunday night, instead of visiting the First Feral Family for family gangstalking in the magnetic field of their CRT TV, never mind the plasma flashes and flickering that they pretend isn't happening.
The overhead rumbling and pounding has chimed in for this early morning, even at 0300h when uncontrolled thoughts came to mind, and the faux tromping noise has started up again with the seagulls mewing. And it is oddly quiet now, and there seems to be a lapse in having something to blog about. The email continues to be a dry fount after the filming on Monday. I note that Ms. C of the story sent her first email in months on Monday, and there was plenty of email back and forthing with Ms. A the film director then, and that the perps had me almost inadvertently reply to Ms. C when I had intended to reply to Ms. A. No coincidence in all of that. In this state of having morphed over operatives and shills, it does make me wonder if this managed coincidence of emails isn't actually from the same person. One can never know for sure, but there were a few "tells" over script editing that the film show wasn't benign.
One coincident event on the day of filming, Monday, was a wood tick that mysteriously appeared on the wall, and when I went to lift it off (not crush it), the tick went splat anyway with a quarter sized blood spot on the wall. This matches a similar event on the opposite S. wall, 6" from this LCD display I am using, that occured some three weeks earlier. And it "so happened" that this latest tick/blood splat was facing the table where the sound man put his gear, (12" away) which included red pouches on his carry belt. What the perps will do to get a blood sample and yet not front for themselves to have me cooperate is simply astounding. As I didn't have a tick bite anywhere, and it makes absolutely no sense that a wood tick "happens" to arrive at breakfast on the facing wall in an downtown apartment six stories up, I can only assume that some of my blood was extracted by action-at-a-distance methods, and then splattered on the wall at the moment the tick was captured in the paper towel I had at hand. And the paper towel was a handy color and material reference as it is so ubiquitous. The gangstalkers are still packing around paper with them as some kind of calibration color for energetic interaction estimation. And just to think, they must have realtime blood data too if they can extract it by extra-conventional means. The more I learn of their advantages, the more I wonder about their collective sanity of attempting to remediate their fuckups by remote means, now six years of it come April.
A three hour nap was scripted for me, supposedly to recover from the night's sleep loss, but more likely to have a daytime test for a longer lie on my bed, given its varied colors, always of perp interest. Then tea and chocolate, more brown colored food, and then a rain shower that came down immediately afterward. I suspect that the latter was scripted for the continuance of the perps' brown color games, always having a problem with it, as it is not a rainbow color which might also be of significance. As I am typing this, the overhead rumbling has started up again, so it would seem that even mentioning this is of significant interest. More rumbling noise with some hallway sourced clickings, onto more complexity of the noisescape it seems. After expending a half hour on gravity theory, it is also likely the center of the perps' current interest. They like me to not understand something, and get considerably agitated about it, noisestalking the pre-comprehension perspective, and then noise-stalking the comprehension state, should it occur. In this case it didn't thanks to the learning disabilities that were laid on me, documented in 1960. I think there is a whole new world of people they could fuck over on that account, and instead, chose to tail me for my every thought, as they do now.
And I read that Pres. George Bush has come up with some new proclimations about the Iraq War, which to me, perverse as it sounds, seems to have considerable influence on the comings and goings of the perps with respect to the ongoing criminal harassment. It is about the top most interest after their mind control related fuckery, and I reckon that I won't get any reprieve until whatever it is about war and conflict in general that the perps are looking for is found, likely some kind of psychic energy, though likely a huge topic. So no, "mere mind control" is not enough of an accomplishment it would seem, nor is it that trashing my life for six years enough either. The perps made all this more difficult when they decided to remotely determine these energies as I think they are doing, and that was on top of the fuckups that I have alluded to over possible traumatization games for which they create much of gangstalking freakshow around me. The white colored pant thing is still in play; this past week's weird dressed in white standing in the open and stopped elevator in the fire alarm stunt had to take the cake for being utterly idiotic, and yesterday's white panted gym almost-freak getting into a long conversation while the class coordinator was in progress was another. Anyhow, it is most curious the perps are continuing life trashing while being totally unrepentant over the psychic scars they created in the first place.
And of late, they have been adding more color related plasma games while doing prosaic activities, attempting to get into the "color of financial transactions" as one such ludicrous juxtaposition of their interests/fuckover themes. Typo sabotage, time to end this for now.
Listening to music again, Katie Melua on YouTube; very addictive. Blogging off.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
After yesterday's big event and having a film crew in here, it makes sense the perps want to continue their run of escalated jerkarounds. So far, they planted ugly dreams about suicide bombers, increased the outside noise, including the logging whistles of no ostensible origin, had a bulldog clip jump out of my hand and fly into the filled cereal bowl that then sprayed cereal flakes all over the counter and the stove top, then pulled a few other stunts to keep me pissed off until I was "reminded" that there were no quarters for the laundry, and I was obliged to make a two block visit to the bank, replete with10x the normal street population at 0900h, all arranged to be freakish, boorish or otherwise strange. They had some six pedestrians (gangstalkers) come at me who were in left hand drive mode. It is fucking absurd that anyone does this in North America, and here were six weirds in succession walking on the wrong side of a 10' wide sidewalk. Fucking assine, and some were so totally spaced out in doing this as to be even more absurd. Anyhow, I got my four rolls of quarters and got back to my place, only to wait excessively for the elevator, and then the manager humpf the bright yellow plastic vacuum cleaner out of the elevator all to give me shit about catching it when the doors almost prematurely closed. It seemed he and his stalking pal came from the top floor, to the basement, and then up to the main floor, and the buddy accompanied me as far as the 6th floor where I live. And the other elevator is mysteriously not working, along with the sixth floor elevator button lights today.
Laundry day is also a big perp excitement event, and I assume that forcing me out to get quarters was all part of the prior arrangements. As they had me up so early, they effectively created a "normal like" morning before I set off; that means at least an hour of web surfing beforehand, reading the regular news events, all of which get noisestalked.
The sickos are hacking the Windows display vertical scroll to the point of pissing me off; they do this all day long. The scroll wheel doesn't work, then it does, then the same for the mouse arrow, all to have me rant at them while the chosen image stays longer on the screen, usual a freakshow member of the Unfavored. It never ends; the PC is constantly hacked like this since 2002, and seems to be real important for the assholes to have me look at images I don't care to see.
I am getting the airhorn noise from outside while each time I attempt to get the desired web page is thwarted by the assholes, now three times in succession they have sabotaged web page access. The links are name of ionizing radiation researchers, and I assume that this detail is important for the assholes, as they have been heavy on the noisestalking anytime I mention a name, read one or recognize a picture of someone as well as ionizing radiation (Xrays, gamma, alpha) being of intense interest to them. An interesting interview with John Gofman here; I didn't know much about him before, but came away highly enlightened.
And on the grim side of the news, although old, is this piece on Theresa Duncan and Jeremy Blake who suicided a week apart, after a long run of suspicions that they were being followed and obstructed in their respective professions. They were darlings of the NYC art world as they were successful, as well as a lively and engaging pair who had been devoted to each other for 12 years. All that changed when they moved to Los Angeles, and after a stint there, they moved back to NYC, although seeming more paranoid, and shared between them. A sentiment shared by many was, “Why would a couple who seemed to be living such an ideal, urban, creative life make this choice? I am an English teacher, drowning in papers with five kids at home, too, and I can only dream of such a life.”As I am been extensively noisestalked as I write this, I can only assume the perps have some kind of interest in my reaction to this story. To keep it brief, it is highly unlikely that either of them would commit sucicide in their circumstances, as not only were they both successful, they had a strong and vibrant relationship, and many friends in NYC. No one knows what happened between them for each to take this tragic step, including me. All I can say is that it fits a pattern of remotely applied energies to suck someone down to the depths of despair, even when they had no genuine reason to. I have once been in such a deep hole, and it was remotely invoked, like all my moods and actions that I have come to know. Anyhow, it doesn't make any sense, and the perpetrators, which I believe there were, don't particularly care about a decent cover story. Nor does it seem that they were a career threat to anyone, as they were each self employed artists who attained success. This story will always be one of those strange ones, and all the more that they each became paranoid over events in their lives, when it is highly unlikely that would occur without genuine provocation.
This being a Tuesday, it is a gym day, in the afternoon. It is a 30 minute walk in each direction which leaves plenty of time to bring on the vehicular (500 to 1,000 round trip) and ambulatory (~100 on the street only) gangstalkers. The gym class was a five freak event, and one normal plus the instructor, the dishy Ms. Lh. The freaks like to bask in her glow for me to see, or else they align themselves behind her so I see her in the centre of the floor exercise room, and then the bald fucker some 6' behind her, usually one side or the other. Regular readers will know I call this "auric glow"; have the Favored as an attractant with an Unfavored (freak) aligned or beside her. I kept my head down as much as possible so I would not see any of them, but with five freaks out of a class of six, or seven including me, it is difficult to attain at times.
The coordinator made out he was too spent for whatever reason to participate, leaving the duties to Ms. Lh. He then hung around on my N. side about 8' away, and about halfway through and after a pointless discussion with a newby in the class, who I have not assigned freak status to, though I might, the coordinator swapped sides and hung around me on the S. side, again, not participating in the exercises at all. Anyhow, not a big deal as gangstalking goes, though I did get double swarmed at the checkout at the grocery store on the way back.
I finished up at the grocery checkout, and even before I got my bags picked up, the "customer" behind me was on my ass, then as I made to depart, there was a swarm of four of the fuckers around me, and then only 8' further, at the exit, another five fuckers were on me, one doing the broadside with the shopping basket, a powder coated mid-grey color. Of this latter swarm, nearly all were freakish to some extent; red hair and red jacket, brown leather jackets and a few more that I cannot recall. Anyhow, the cluster members knew when to split apart and then let me through the middle of them. And lo, if my parallel walking gangstalker of the prior 15 minutes wasn't out there. She had tailed me parallel for 10 minutes before I went into the grocery store, she was there in the store, and then again ahead of me on my route, now 90 degrees offset, once I got out. It doesn't get any more blatant than that, save adding freaks into the picture, she being attractive as far as I could make out, as she didn't ever give me a frontal perspective, only in profile.
At the gym there was the usual 80/20 rule in force; 80% in the free weight and muscle building machine area was doing nothing, 20% were. I have said this so many times; I have never seen a gym where so many are "stunned out", (actually sentry duty as I call it), and sitting around. The aerobic exercisers on the treadmill, elliptical, bicycle and the like are always busy, as they really don't have a choice, but the N. end is where the volitional use equipment is, and most are not exercising.
I got screwed out of a decent run on the treadmill again; the perps began whacking my hands with force fields as they are not contacting anything on the equipment, and the deal is that as soon as hand whacking starts up, I shut the machine down, and try the bicycle instead. Translated, that means they are energetically comparing me while on the treadmill and don't want me to get truly exercised so they can compare that to my subsequent workout on the bicycle. They keep jerking me around as to what aerobic equipment they want me to work out on, and I am getting fed up that I am not allowed to run for any consistent duration.
I suspect the treadmill incident was for me to view the woman through the safety glass outside in the dark brown duffel coat, as she had been loitering there when I walked into the building. There is an ample waiting area inside, but instead, she was hanging out at the curb when I arrived like any "browner"/gangstalker. Some 15 minutes later, she was still out there, and I was viewing her from the second story treadmill, this time on her cell phone, the instrument of first choice to energetically augment the existent EM conditions. Regular readers will know that the perps attach significant weight to what I see through glass, and what kind of glass it is; e.g. tinted, safety glass (has a plastic panel in it), other float glass and whatever other kinds there may be.
My ambulatory gangstalkers were on a beserk streak today. As per this morning's LH drive gangstalkers, they kept this up in the afternoon as well. I had at least 20 of the fuckers coming straight at me when I was on the right side of the sidewalk or crosswalk. In some cases they ducked into the last 2' of availible space and passed me on the right side, some crossed directly in front of me to obstruct egress, and others "needed" to walk on top of the crosswalk line, a 16" wide white bounding line of the crosswalk and passing me on the right side. It is plain fucking nuts that so many "pedestrians" forget what side of the street/sidewalk that we walk on in North America. We operate in RH drive here, so why the sudden departure in following the fundamental rules of the road all in one day?
Another less invasive gangstalker trait today was the fuckers breaking out into a run while on the sidewalk, or in one case, she ran down the street in street clothes on the road (asphalt surface) portion. It is fucking hilarious as there isn't a bus nearby most often, so what are they running for? As best as I can tell, for their handler and orchestrator. I cannot think of any more vivid proof of all these ambulatory gangstalkers being orchestrated than the sudden behavior changes of these putative "pedestrians" in LH drive or breaking into a run for nothing apparent. At least send some dressed in running gear instead of this utter bullshit about 60 y.o. grannies in tehir downtown best "having" a sudden urge to run on the streets.
Other gangstalking silliness was a dude packing a horn like instrument, about 4' long and 4" in diameter at the widest end. It appeared to be a strangely hollowed out section of a tree, and not an animal horn. It was lacquered inside and out, and was one of the more stranger musical instruments I have seen the perps packing around in my proximity. I assume this was all in an effort to support the "wood stalking" theme that surfaces fairly often.
I should do a summary of yesterday's filming from the perps perspective; gangstalking, getting people in close, creating energetic interactions etc. Any new event that is unlikely to be repeated is wide open to plenty of games. So here it is in abbreviated form;
- I worked with the director, Ms. A, on the script on my PC in the morning, trying to get the script shorter, so this would of been about 2 hours total over two visits where she was beside me in my place,
- I was given the opportunity to speak and time the part, and lo, if she didn't interupt while I was taking longer at the task because I got fucked out of writing down the correct start time,
- I read the last part twice on film to run out the roll; the perps always like activity to be repeated for them,
- I had the sound man and the lighting man putz around me; microphones are perp favored electromagnetic devices that can be co-opted for their use, and the light meter readings were taken around me,
- I "needed" to purchase a blue shirt Sunday while killing time before the carpet auction started, and lo, if that wasn't the best shirt for filming as the black colored one I had been wearing all morning offered too much contrast, (she said) then providing me a vital clue that one's garments get altered by the laundry process and the perps cannot figure it out, hence wearing a shirt that never had been laundered in front of the lights, microphone and camera for the first 30 minutes of its use,
- while I was reading from my script when filming, the perps created all manner of crackling noise in my mouth, as if it were coming from my jaw, which it wasn't,
- also while filming, the perps put a zinger maser (fuzzy grey ball) exactly tracking my focus on the script page,
- the perps had me stutter and stumble a few times just to let me know they were "looking after me",
- the perps also planted extraneous and irrelevant thoughts in mind while I was reading the script,
- the tripod was located partially on my plastic office chair mat, and partially off, as was the camera which sat on top of it,
- the perps sabotaged Open Office Writer, the word processing software I use, stripping out page numbers of the script immediately before two printings, and then removing the software commands to insert them for a third and final printing,
- games with the plug outlet; turning on the power bar with its red switch light when it was full, and then switching it off to then use the expanded outlet beside it,
- the perps were also busy running background outside traffic noise while I was reading from the script while filming.
As per above, I did laundry today, and I suppose that was a continuation of the above games, as the three same cotton/lycra blend shirts all "happened" to remain damp after the dryer had finished, and all three were hung up in the bathroom to finish drying. And I "happened" to only have two hangers so the new blue shirt was hung differently than the other two, directly on the plastic shrouded shower curtain rail. I am sure all these plastic interaction details were long thought out in advance and that this was the final play after filming yesterday.
That is correct, it is 0400h in the morning after being awakened and going through a head pain show to drive me out of bed at this hour. Then onto a disrupted breakfast of coffee, toast and chocolate, and now web surfing. I haven't had one of these for a few years, but somehow, the perps think it is due. And of course the usual (faux) "neighbor" noises are happening now, especially if any unbidden thoughts come to mind. That is, my own thoughts, and not a planted one. The overhead rumbling noise that moves around so to be overhead, the faked water usage noise, the hallway clickings and the outside loud mufflered vehicles even. Funny, no bus noise at this time, so there are some constraints in place for whatever reason.
Anyhow, I should post this, and get a new posting for the rest of today, as I got screwed out of posting it last night. This will be a long day, and there is nothing planned to do. It could be interesting as I am allowed more variable events of late, but designated shut-in days are still vogue for the assholes to impose.
Monday, March 24, 2008
I was working from an excerpt from The Air Loom Gang, and it was even more damning about the state of mind control in Parliment in 1796 than it is here. I highly recommend the book, link to the right.
And I have no idea how to get rid of the lines that were placed in the file near the end; not in Open Office Writer or in Blogspot.
I am using two allegorical tales, both true events, to introduce my highly unsusal state of being as a resident of the Chelsea Apartments.
The Potemkin Village Metaphor
Potemkin villages were, purportedly, fake settlements erected at the direction of Russian minister Grigori Potemkin to fool Empress Catherine II during her tour of Crimea in 1787. According to this story, Potemkin, had hollow facades of villages constructed along the desolate banks of the Dnieper River in order to impress the monarch and her travel party with the value of her new conquests, thus enhancing his standing in the empress's eyes. The term, "Potemkin Village" has come to mean, especially in a political context, any elaborate hollow or false construct, physical or figurative, meant to hide an undesirable or potentially damaging situation.
The Air Loom Gang
by Mike Jay, from the diary of James Tilley Mathews, abridged excerpt.
On 30 December 1796, one man was on a unique mission – and in unique and unprecedented jeopardy. His mission was taking him through the packed thoroughfares of London, the world’s only city of a million inhabitants, to the House of Commons, the most public place in Britain where truth, once spoken, could not be ignored. The jeopardy, by contrast, emanated from the most private place in London: an underground cellar concealed somewhere beneath the paving, cobbles and pipes of the central streets whose existence was, as far as he knew, a secret to everyone but him.
He approached the House seemingly unnoticed, yet he was well aware that it would nonetheless require a powerful effort of will for him to reach it. There was no one pursuing him, and on-one to block his way. But neither of these was necessary to engender the jeopardy he faced, which was generated by something new both to science and to history: a machine which operated invisibly, from a distance, and with irresistible force.
He knew that, in the darkness of its basement cellar, the machine was in operation. Although the cellar was dank and airless, the windmill sails that powered the device were turning slowly, filling it with its mysterious charge. Its rows of hooped brass barrels hissed quietly, conspiratorially, as their chambers began to fill with pressurized gasses. Its wooden levers creaked as the warp of its central loom, or Air Loom, was tensed by magnetic currents.
The machine was building towards full power. Its gases and fluids agitated ever more intensely, producing a muffled cacophony of swishing and crashing sounds like ocean turbulence in a subterranean cavern. The smell was foul beyond belief, noxious gases and corrosive acid ripped apart and recombined in the magnetic flux. “Factitious airs” – gasses that had never existed naturally – hissed ominously into life, jets of pressure forcing them through tube valves, sending them out like sightless eels into their new world. A pair of gloved hands worked in silence, modulating the keys on the machine like organ stops, focusing an invisible force out through the cellar’s solid stone walls and down the London streets, where it passed without resistance through houses and crowds, infallibly seeking out its targets in the House of Commons.
As he climbed the steep, crowded stairs to the public gallery the man began to feel a turbulence in the air around him, and a probing pressure around his mouth, sucking at his breath. He could taste copper in his saliva. He knew what this meant: the bellows on the machine’s controls were being delicately primed, feeling for the rhythm of his breathing and attempting to synchronize with it. Each time he filled his lungs he felt a little more of the magnetic fluid seeping into them, into his bloodstream and brain. Each breath dulled his mind a little, like a shadow passing over the sun.
But he also knew what to do, he opened his mouth and held his breath for as long as he could, then took in a sharp, unexpected draught of air. The lever of the bellows, at its lowest arc, was raised immediately, but the magnetic fluid seeped out too slowly to reach him. The machine, he had discovered, could be temporarily fooled in this way. He expelled the breath from his lungs sharply, sucked it in again immediately and held his mouth wide open, like a suffocating fish. He could hear a faint, frustrated hissing around him as it searched again for his rhythm. The people on the stairs looked at him oddly, so he clutched his chest in a pantomime of asthmatic attack
He reached the public gallery and jostled his way into earshot and towards a seat. Both House and gallery were packed. There were nearly three hundred MPs in attendance for a debate that would surely be crucial to the nation's political future.
The man in the gallery watched as the Speaker called for silence for the Debate on the King’s Message Respecting the Rupture of the Negotiation with France to begin. He opened the floor to the Prime Minister, William Pitt. The Prime Minister, introduced a raft of draconian anti-Terror legislation. The hard-won right of habeas corpus was reined in, allowing suspected revolutionaries to be interred without trial.
The man in the gallery knew Pitt. He had met with him in private session, though there was no question that Pitt would now deny it. But he also knew that this was not really Pitt speaking. As the Prime Minister’s chest rose and fell with magisterial rhythm, he sensed the mysterious bellows breathing from afar; Pitt was under the control of the machine.
Many had suspected that the political disasters of the past few years had a hidden cause. The bloodiness of French mob rule was something unnatural, irrational, something which had never been seen before. How had the Terror erupted from such humane and enlightened beginnings? The man in the gallery knew that the strings were being manipulated not by men alone, but by the Air Loom machine.
The Air Loom had been constructed by the Jacobins in Paris around the time of their coup d’état in 1793. Just as they had corrupted ideals to their despotic ends, so had they corrupted republican science. The secret of its power was pneumatic chemistry, the chemistry of invisible elements recently christened “gases”, a science that had been developed by some of the greatest geniuses of the Revolution.
The Air Loom’s power was pneumatic, but its effects were accomplished by harnessing the mysterious magnetism which ran through all living things, a technique popularized in pre-Revolutionary France by the Viennese doctor Franz Anton Mesmer. Mesmerism could cure disease, twist and constrict the body, control the speech and brain, all without the subject even being aware of it. The Air Loom used its pneumatic force to expand these powers far beyond those of even the most skilled human mesmerist. Man had made a machine that could turn men themselves into machines.
My Story as a Resident in the Chelsea Apartments
I live in the Chelsea as a 54 year old Potemkin Villager at the dispensation of a modern day equivalent of the Air Loom Gang, replete with false fronts from family, thought-to-be-friends, past employers and public mobbing, aka. gangstalking. Other Air-Loom like experiences in the past six years have been sudden and strange smells, overwhelming metallic tastes in my mouth, unbidden muscle spasms, unwarranted erratic breathing and abiding wispy trails and clouds of magnetic energy in the form of masers and plasma beams, corroborated by three independent instruments measuring magnetic anomalies of over 200 Gauss in late 2002. All major phenomenon have been witnessed by other parties.
My knowledge of being a Potemkin Villager began in April 2002, when my work colleagues were behaving oddly for the prior week, as it seemed there was some significant news to come. And my thought-to-be girlfriend was also behaving diffidently. By way of phone call, my ex-wife also added to the strangeness. I couldn't possibly imagine what connected these diverse aspects of my life, but I was to find out.
It began with a weekday high tech invasion of my apartment in Seattle. Most of the interaction was by way of sound, plasma and maser beams. Maser beams are similar to lasers, but are coherent magnetic beams. My recall of the event is fragmented, but I was aware of being carried into my apartment by six men beforehand. And I also encountered at least one person who blocked my toilet with a balloon, and for some unexplained reason I allowed this to occur. The next day I went to work, and no one asked where I had been, as they seemed to know.
It wasn't my imagination, the toilet was indeed blocked the next day, and needed a plumbers snake to clear it. And even now, nearly six years later, I get two or more toilet blockages a week when it had been a rare event before. I can only assume the frequency of this and all other unconventional phenomenon and coincidences that I routinely experience is a result of the equivalent of the present day Air Loom Gang. In current day language, it is the application of action-at-a-distance methods, by unconventional physical means to control gravitation, physicality, materiality, and mind- all of which are energetically interdependent.
This, I learned from a research foray into physics theory; there are some significant physical world discrepancies that our understanding of electromagnetism does not explain, and which have been published since at least the 1930's by Thomas Townsend Brown. His term was electro-gravitic dynamics. There is no widely accepted theory that unifies Newtonian physics (large body gravitation) with that of quantum physics, (very small bodies at or below the molecular level).
As part of this unfolding of this story and while being in the grasp of remotely applied magnetic energy, I came to realize that although this overt harassment, as I call it, has been covertly applied since birth, and that all the events and activities I which took part in were orchestrated as an applied dynamic Potemkin Village with the full collusion and participation from my family, schools and employers. Once I began to retrospectively study the harassment methodologies and apply them to all those oddities of the past, then much more of it made sense. Those conspiratorial grins of seeming friends that accompanied my misunderstanding of the moment; “its nothing” they would say. And then there was the whites of the eyes of others that appeared scared, even though I had done or said anything that was remotely threatening. It all began to make sense, and there was a reason I was always the last person on the bus that anyone would sit beside, it was by covert orchestration, and it still is. Ever since that high tech invasion of April 2002, I have been down a rabbit hole that has no end in sight, now nearly six years later.
At first I did not know why I was so important to so many in such a undeclared and furtive manner. There was some indication that the color of what I ate and my clothing was important. There were many assaults in 2002 with light beam weaponry. There was intense head pain that precluded anything else, save running from it or blocking it with my arms, and maser and plasma beams being shot at me from vehicles, either while walking or driving. I could get relief from the headpain if I drove my vehicle, and so these massive vehicle convoys came to cluster around me while driving up and down the I-5 freeway from Olympia to the border. Each night over several weeks there was at least a 100 vehicles that would cluster behind me and would pass by one at a time, and then form a cluster ahead of me. It was highly organized, methodical and repititous. Even though harassed through the nights, and sleep deprived, I was fully fuctional at work.
Other assaults included noises that increased in volume from every source. Then I was tricked into visiting the hospital by two thought-to-be friends as if it were of clinical origin. There, the seeming patients acted like fulltime gangstalkers by circulating around or mobbing me, popping from behind every corner or door as I approached it. Even the staff was in on the act; one Asian staff member was in a mid hallway over-extended reach position each time I returned from outside. I noted this anomalous behavior in my journal and it immediately stopped. I asked the doctor if I was being kept in a densified magnetic field, and he would not look at me when he said “no”. I got the real answer then. To his credit, he did say two years later that I was being persecuted.
No medications seemed to make any difference, and were not correlated with any less suspicion about being subjected to ongoing gangstalking. The entirety of this encompassing net of orchestration wasn't fully appreciated until I was apprehended by the Saanich Police for no stated reason, twice at gunpoint. Then when I wanted to retrieve my belongings from Seattle the INS Border Guard pulled their weapons on me all to provide a piece of paper to say I needed to be seen by the US Consulate's doctor. As it happened, there is no such designated doctor. My brother who was to help me move somehow made a last minute excuse not to accompany me. Other more direct incursions have been a street assault, belligerent pedestrains not making way on the sidewalks and having bicycle wheels put in my face.
Now that the harassment has “settled down” to having driven me out of employment and back to Victoria and living with the aid of a rent subsidy in the Chelsea, my life can be categorized into the following main phenomenon groups with supporting details.Here is a rundown of the major everyday events that I claim are part of an orchestrated Potemkin Village that is arranged around me 24/7/365.
Vehicular & Ambulatory Gangstalking
Everywhere I go in public I have extra numbers of individuals swarming around me whether walking or driving, and invariably clothing color and vehicle color are arranged.
The gangstalking vehicles are arranged with the silver grey, white and black vehicles first, then mid-grey vehicles are added in, then these will accompany added red, green and brown colored vehicles. Navy blue, and mid-blue colors are added later, and may accompany the few orange or yellow colored vehicles. This is applied in iterative waves of vehicle formations, sometimes in file, sometimes two or more abreast, and invariably hiding or blocking one color from the other, mixing in yet more permutations of color, vehicle type, mobile and parked.
The same happens in my ambulatory visits to grocery stores and the gym; intial passes of those wearing “starter” (reference) clothing colors of black, white and mid-greys are later mixed in with the bolder yellows, reds and browns. Though rare, some gangstalkers have made repeated appearance as in various guises as an executive, vagrant, fireman, and indeterminantly casually dressed, sometimes calling excessive attention to themselves, in both Seattle and Victoria.
Current Environmental Events
noise campaigns, selectively applied and usually coincidental with my activities or other noises, and are often excessive augmentations of extant activity,
application of extra-gravitational energies to foil my movements, have me drop items on the floor, surreptiticiously move objects (including my vehicle when I owned one), or co-opt fine motor control of my fingers, including myriad typos far in excess of my finger pecking days since using computers in 1974,
the above two events define the major play of my tormentors; to infuriate me all day long and have me vocalize this with their selected vocabulary,
reading and other cognitive “misperceptions”, inserted into mind that began for the first time ever in 2005 when greater mind control capability became apparent, and continues at a rate of 100 times or more per day,
dynamic application of dithering my judgement, recall, planning, speech, syntax, motivation and coordination on a preplanned basis, (often coincident with noise events),
selectively applied transitory vision impairments, simultaneously applied to specific events such as seeing someone for the first time in the day, noise events, reading a person's name.
remotely applied sabotage of electronic devices, both field strength meters and consumer electronics (e.g. CD players, headphones),
a disproportionate number of itches and skin lesions that are uncharacteristically persistent,
redirection of my attention faculties to spurious and irrelevant objects,
plasma beams ghosting from shapes and objects onscreen and physical objects.
Computer & Financial Intrusions
constant invasion, monitoring and sabotage of my computer and online activities, including covert changes and deletions of computer files,
four successive income tax reassessments over the same matter, winning my case each time when I never had a reassessment in paying taxes before,
age regression becoming significantly younger,
skin thinning on both sides of my hands,
my back was straightened changing my walking gait,
asymmetric facial appearance,
spontaneous bleeding on the top of my nose, and facial pores and not from any shaving activity
As a further part of this all-encompassing net of a scripted existence, there are endless “designed coincidences”. These are coincidences with respect to what I know or am thinking, ranging from the use of an usual word over a few days in readiness for mention by someone else, to seeming coordination with world events such as the assassination of Benazir Bhutto.
And lest it be any surprise, it plainly clear that one objective of my tormentor's is 100% mind control, only more stealthily than that of the Air Loom Gang. Based on my cummulative experiences, and seeing greater control exercised in forcing me to do things I wouldn't ordinarily think, recall, do or say, that 100% mind control is nearly accomplished. They appear to be working on my brainstem area judging by the recent maser strikes in my neck above my Adam's apple.
I am a virtual prisoner in a virtual democracy, living a pre-scripted Potemkin Village existence subject to continued villanous, illegal and depraved machinations and incursions that reach as far as one's thoughts on a full time basis. I have been fucked over enough by anyone's account, and this vile, outrageous and abusive mendacity must be terminated now.