Friday, February 20, 2009

Shut In Time

More of the "155" thing again if you have been following these postings. And if you haven't, don't fret as it is the only numeralology references that I have allowed on this site as I don't go there as a rule. It is too fraught with silliness already in a credibility deficit on account of being an electromagnetic serf to my tormentors, the same assholes that arrange the web sites that I peruse online and have noises arranged each time I scroll or change web pages. Even operating a light switch is fascinating for them, as they routine manipulate my fingers to miss, or pull the switch back for a one second flash of light and then it goes off again. Such is life in the disability lane, that arrangement for the perps to access me all the time, and even the doctor refuted the diagnosis, and no other clinician has followed up on it. Amazing that, finding such consistent sandbagging for three doctors in succession who don't want to hear much about what is going on.

This has been a low activity day, but I was allowed out to deposit my paycheck from last weekend and help paydown my line of credit. I had a heavy gangstalking contingent for 0900h when most stores don't open until 1000h in this town. Few exceptional weirds, save the double black MIB act in mid sidewalk and his look-at-nothing stance. He wandered out from a small parking lot in mid-block and was dressed totally in black with a black toque pulled down to cover his neck. He was doing the look-down-the-street act, where there was nothing exceptional to see, and his back was toward me. As I got within 10' of the dude in mid sidewalk, he turns his head around to look behind him, exposing his face, and lo, if he wasn't a negro. Very unusual in this town, but they seem to have an affinity for "showing up" in my proximity. See the Favored and Unfavored for a possible rationale for them to be orchestrated as often as there are. And it wouldn't be the first time that they put a negro gangstalker in close to me who suddenly erupted from close by. Last summer there was one who popped out from a parked cube van, making out he was helping with a move, some 8' in front of me. Before that, a negro dude "happened" to be at the street corner where I turned 90 degrees, getting within 3' of me on the sidewalk. Last week it was a 6'4" negro, not engaging in any peekaboo games though, was at the elevator when it opened one floor down, and who came in, stood beside me, and then walked out.

As one can tell, this is not an exciting day so far, and given the elevated vituperative and petty harassment so far this week, it is a good thing. My mind-keepers like to rile me up, which is their biggest play, and anything less is a blessing. My in-town brother didn't phone about gardening jobs today, so I imagine his arrival two days ago was more about doing the brown-black color testing in combination with perp plasma and backlighting games with me at the window. I have seen black and brown dressed gangstalkers side by side at least twice since then, and it would seem that they are attempting to use the black reference for their color and energetics fuckery games and whatever they are looking to detect off me.

And I suppose, this afternoon, begining a new stack of chocolate bars, this brand wrapped in foil and then in a crimson red paper, might also be high excitement for the SS (Surrepticious Sickos). While eating the chocolate the accompanying escalated noise stalking was a tip-off of external interest, and I will learn more firsthand when I set off later to do the one hour cleaning job at the car dealership. My work bound foray at 1730h from this apartment building is often heavily gangstalked. And more of them are wearing red of late, often a his-and-her pair in the same red garments for chrissakes, something I had never seen before all this bullshit landed on me.

I am getting more mouth drying games going on of late; not only is this totally ucharacteristic, but also somehow remains undetected for long durations, some 30 minutes or more. Regular readers will know that the perps often put on "open mouthing" gangstalkers, or similar variations with their tongues hanging out, eating food, chewing gum or moving their tongues around in their mouths in my proximity. Spitting and puking too, though the latter is rare. And I do see more spit on the sidewalks on my walking beat, including this morning's two block visit to the ATM.

I once was allowed to see how the spittings happened; there were spittings about every 30' or so on this stretch of sidewalk, and I couldn't see anyone doing it, not even the gangstalking pair of dudes ahead of me. But there was this splat sound every so often, and lo, if the spitting didn't arrive by itself (aka teleported) and hit the sidewalk with a characteristic sound, and yet no one was doing it. It was landing in front of the gangstakers ahead of me, and of course they didn't even flinch as this spit arrived immediately at their feet. Which begs the question as to whose spit it was; theirs, just with an extra conventional delivery system, or someone else that we both might of known. It staggers the imagination as to how much fuckery goes on over my mouth contents, and by extension, those in my proximity. And we are now closing in on seven years of surrepticious nonconsensual human experimentation with my mouth contents and its energetic properties as being an essential focus of these mind-fuck and harassment games. I suppose if one is remotely assaying one's brain energies, and color was a component of this, then the mouth contents at every given moment are extremenly important, being only an inch away from one's neural matter. Not my problem, so why have I been drafted into it?

The maser and plasma and lighting games have also been getting more perturbing; I constantly have the grey fuzzy balls and lines flitting about, and sometimes there gets too many, or that they persist over top of something else. The plasma games seem to be about displaying a color sample where they don't have an object as a prop. When walking the distance of my apartment from kitchen to bathroom after breakfast, the sickos put on a peanut butter colored beam off the carpet, presumably to get a reading/reaction from this color while not at the table where I ate a single slice of toast with peanut butter. Another plasma color game is to add a yellow or purple 1/8" to 1/4" edge enhancement to the white dinner plates when handling or looking at them. And today, they even went as far as to project yellow plasma that came off the plate, putting the same color and shape some 5" off the plate as if it were ghosting. The perps tell me that they are attempting to emulate a early childhood LSD traumatization, but that is coming from the most dubious possible source. I have no recollection of this, though they did once (two years ago) put on a red colored lawn grass when my in-town brother and I were packing my furniture across it. He saw it too and made some reference as it lasted for some 40 seconds or so and I felt like puking afterward. How the perps did that I have no idea, but every blade of grass was red colored. I told the doctor about it but he didn't seem too moved. I would assume this was some kind of test to compare my brother's reaction to that of mine, based on the supposition that we have some fundamental cognitive differences between us with respect to the color red as well as something so odd and so horrid (as I found it).

I did my cleaning job tonight at the car dealership, and the perps seemed to leave me alone for the most part, except jerking me around as to which end of the plastic bag to open. I grasp the end where I expect it and then it is not there, only to find that it is the other end. I didn't have this problem when I first started the job two months ago, and now it has become prevalent. Go figure.

There were hordes of gangstalkers on the street; more at 1900h when coming back than at 1730h when headed there. Another nightime negro dude doing the intersection loitering with his Caucasian pal, plus at least another 15 or so at this one intersection which has only a coffee shop and and restaurant. I have had other negro gangstalkers at this same location in the same circumstances, on my way back. It seems that the daylight time isn't as important as nightime negro gangstalkers. I haven't figured it all out, but they don't want me to identify them until they are very close, same as the above mentioned incident this morning.

A constant barrage of bullshit ideations again, indicating that Feb. 27th doctor's appointment is going to be a big event. It is fucking tiresome to have these constant baseless notions planted, and I really don't fucking care. It is a doctor's appointment, that is all, and something I never give a care about. If it is something else, then I will find out then as I am always the last to know, by design. All previous planted notions of like kind have never materialized to be nothing but utter bullshit, and I would never invent these myself, as I have been through over 10 such stunts in the past seven years, and haven't been wrong once. They don't happen, so why should I expect a fucking doctors appointment to be anything different? It doesn't make any sense except to demonstrate that invasive mind technologies are operational and can target individuals without any awareness by the victim. Especially if they start on one at birth.

It is official, we Cascadians wear fleece to the opera. This is hikey bikey land, and that includes the sickos too.

More bookmarking and the usual extra noise in my earmuffs as I click on the mouse. Enough.

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