Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Noise Barrages

It isn't worth answering the phone these days as intensified noise campaigns erupt immediately afterward and run for some 50 minutes for far. And the said phone call from my perp-abetting brother was interupted by a sudden need to pee. So the sequence of fuckery was 1.5 hours of web surfing time, the phone call related to something he claims he cannot find on the internet about local incentives to scrap older vehicles, then the sudden "need" to pee breaking the phone call off, then the noise campaign started. After finishing peeing, I printed off a five page application form for him, replete with the printer doing never-before desk and LCD monitor shaking, even in vertical directions, accompanying door slamming, then the backup beepers started, overhead faint rumbling noise started up, faked outside heavy duty vehicles and the rest of the outside noise fuckery/din that immediately stops when I go to the window to look outside for the putative causes. There are none for the most part and then the noise subsides. And it should be noted that the door slamming in the hallway in this building is some trick when all doors have hydraulic hinges on them; it can't be done if one tried, and yet it erupts suddenly with at least a half dozen in a couple of minutes. Time to dump this websurfing habit it would seem as that is the big driver of the entire run of bullshit that followed.

The sickos had me rage-fied at breakfast again; faked touchings, food flying out of my mouth and into the coffee grounds in the coffee pot immediately before the hot water was added. I have never seen food flying so fast, accurately and with such a trajectory before, another new extra-conventional gravitic fuckery advance to which I am now apprised of. And also, I was treated to another new jerkaround when eating a portion of chocolate this morning. I put the remaining piece entirely into my mouth, and as I pulled my had away, an 1/8" size chocolate crumb arrived in my fingers as if it were a residual piece that somehow broke off. It didn't happen at my mouth, and it only afterward, hence a new crumb teleportation fuckery stunt. A busy morning, all these new heightened jerkarounds, as well as more text jumping all by itself while I am typing this out. Beserk times of late, and this week has been particulary ugly, and this is only day 3 so far, counting from Monday.

And who was the Anonymous commenter who suggested the incessant toilet blocking games were somehow "natural". There hasn't been a natural event in my life for over six years, and with the perp's insane preoccupation with all things brown, including chasing me with septic services trucks, how is it that you can come to that deduction? Another provocateur it would seem; read this posting and tell me the same thing again. It was the opening sabotage act in 04-2002, blocking my toilet with a balloon and forcing me to get a plumber's snake to get rid of the blockage, and they haven't let up ever since. Funny how all these coincidences keep happening to me.

More noise this afternoon, the steady din of faux jackhammers in the parkade of the opposite residential tower. As usual, there are no signs of compressors outside, removal of broken up concrete or any other support vehicles or activity. Funny how the jackhammer noise is timed for big jerkaround days.

I just had my tea break, with chocolate, and as always, eating brown colored food is of intense interest to the perps with coordinated noise while eating it, and then drinking tea which would move it down my throat and change the brown coloration scene in my mouth. And I got the crumb games again, some of them just "flying in", as in teleported as they don't fall from anywhere or have a conventional trajectory. The perps have been having a big crumb inundation jerkaround these past three days, they are very cranked up about them, and typically will direct my vision to nearby objects that look like crumbs but aren't, say, a feature of the wood of the table I am eating at. Post crumb pickup or identification, they will also direct me to look at their coffee grounds they add in nearby, extra large water droplets and masses of small bubbles from dishwashing. Another crumb fucking variation that has recently erupted is to have light colored crumbs arranged, and then have a light colored facsimilie nearby to direct me to when dealing with the real crumb. More elaborate fuck games with crumbs are at breakfast with the one slice of bread I have; first comes a "shift" of very small brown crumbs, then larger darker brown ones, and then light colored crumbs. Invariably each crumb type is clustered together and separable from other crumb types on the dinner plate. It would be hilarious if one wasn't in this situation of being life-raped and under intense scrutiny down to one's last thought.

And I found another TI who has an experience of having an arranged existence, including an ex-wife who was part of the scam. He runs the site called Brussell Sprout, and relates a very similar tale to that of mine including one specific detail; women who drop out of his life for no explicable reason. Bingo, we have corroboration of the same fucking jerkaround. How could that possibly be except by design? For the record, I have had some males do the same thing, suddenly turn on me for some curious reason they didn't wish to divulge.

My in-town brother arrived just after lunch to get his print-outs, featuring his shit-brown coat and then standing in front of the window engaging in banter. This begat the backlit games that cast his coat as seeming deep black shadows, and he moved a little bit to keep the brown to black coloration variance games going. He also brought me chocolate for no reason, a Ritter bar in a green plastic wrapper that was duly consumed after lunch. It would seem that his phone calls were accurately timed for when I had a break in the lunch and dishes action so I could answer it, as a warm up to answering the door when he came a few minutes later, "happening" to be in the neighborhood. He parked his new used white tradesvan in view of my apartment window so we could both see it from there at the same time. I have remarked in the past that the perps like me to see the same objects and persons through varying kinds of glass, more than one pane of glass, and of course directly. The sliding door window glass panes have a layer of transparent plastic in them to hold the entire thing together to prevent shards from flying in the event of a breakage, just as car windsheilds do. For whatever reason this is of extreme interest to the sickos for which I don't give a shit. Just leave me alone and stay the fuck out of my life.

And while on the topic of TI family situations and the nascent beginings of harassment, orchestration and other abuse, Rachael O. also put up a good posting today. She has the benefit if having her harassment validated every so often with some kind of reference to her existence. As a rule, I don't get these, but it is interesting to know that the TI abuse scenario begins young. I suspect this is likely more the case than not, and only when do they want some intensfied research do they go overt and put on the noticeable gangstalking and abuse. I don't know why they decide on overt abuse, and it must be on an individual basis.

Another vignette that Rachael O. mentions has played out in my life; being present, or proximate, to overhear others talking about you. It is almost a universal TI Fuckover experience, though I suppose this can happen to anyone, or is it that I don't have an experience with normal, when this would happen. Anyhow, I don't know what the deal is, as the perps like to set this up, and workplace mobbing extensively engages in this trend as well. As I read about it, workplace mobbing is more about character assassinations that are meant to be overheard, same thing as whisper campaigns.

Rachael O. also mentions mold damage to her lungs, which is interesting. Back in the pre-overt harassment days when I lived in Seattle, I would see this woman named Ms. L in a top floor apartment, and she had mold in her apartment, and would never get her act together and get it dealt with. When I came I would buzz her on the intercom, and she would let me into the building. When I got to the top floor I could smell the mold right away from the open elevator doors as Ms. L had opened her door by then and left if for me to walk through while she was sitting on her bed watching TV. She was obviously a planted operative, and did have a rather mysterious life in that she didn't work, yet had all the comforts as well as a place in New York City. I met her at an Attention Deficit Disorder (ADD) conference in early 2001, and for 10 months we were good pals, albeit with an undercurrent of guardedness that didn't dissipate. When the harassment erupted in 2002 she bailed on me, having gone to NYC then, and that was the last of her. The perps tell me she was a morphed (shape shifted) version of Ms. C who then came back into my life about then, though I have no idea if this is true, especially when they are some 60 lb different. For a month or so I had two girlfriends, an overlap, and recall that there was some uncharacteristic amusement from those in my social circle at the time after explaining this situation in response to my boss asking me about my girlfriends. It is all conjecture, and of course a fertile ground for the perps to play mind-fuck games that are totally unprovable.

A bumper crop of new TI sites today; here is Gangstalking Journal, about the most polished and reasoned description I have read. The story is fascinating, if not disconcerting as to the degree of mind fuck games that her seeming friends put her through while she was drugged. The sensation of "everyone has gone weird" is not new to this TI, though I haven't dealt with any doping to my knowledge.

i was allowed to be more collected at my cleaning job tonight, and not be sabotaged with the forced "forgets" I was getting hammered with last night. There were more plastic bag games; I packed a box of them with me to load quantities into the bottom of the garbage bags as a supply for new ones. One garbage can had some mysterious brown fluid in the bottom that somehow bypassed the stretched plastic liner. I reckon it was all about the brown games, and having me clean a black plastic trash can with a white paper towel of some mysterious brown liquid was yet another test of colors and substances. The fluid had been there for two weeks and then more of it "arrived", and so I felt obliged to clean it up (read, mindfucked to continue the next stage of the brown color/plastic bag/plastic trash can interaction games).

And the perps having me working at a car dealership gives them the means to display varyin car parts, many of them new in brown cardboard boxes or wrapping. Also, it seems that used parts are getting their due as well; I couldn't say if it is normal for a car dealership to have so many used parts around, but I don't fret about it, as the degree of orchestration is over the top wherever I go. Though, I will say that the fuckery level is a little diminished tonight. I got constant faked water noise of seeming neighbors for the entire time I was eating chocolate with my tea tonight, and this degree of noisestalking precisely to my actions is getting more obvious. We are long past plausible cover stories these days.

On my way out the door tonight I got a stalling gangstalking biddy at the front door with red leather gloves, and lo, once I got past here there were a succession of at least five more gangstalkers with some article of same crimson red clothing; hats, jackets, backpacks; just the usual color coordinated fuckery. On the way back from the car dealership cleaning job I got an oncoming ambulatory female gangstalker some 60' ahead twirling a pink scarf around her arm, making out that this was some idle stunt she does. While not bizarre, I consider it most odd as no one wants to invite comparison to be borderline nuts if they aren't. As usual, I got the blank lookaway countenance when this person was closer, a very typical pose for the fuckers who do strange things on-street.

More bookmarked link troving tonight with the earmuffs on the the din in them; ringing, crackling, pinging and a distant radio voice is my tormentor's notion of hearing protection. Onto a new reality, and calling this done.

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