Thursday, April 30, 2009

A Long Day

No blog posting yesterday as I spent much of the day building a 4'x8' elevated box for vegetable gardening at my perp abetting parent's place. Later in the evening I got "consumed" (read, mind-fucked) into playing pretend PC builder, researching the most suitable and cost effective components, and of course the scenario changes over time; different prices, discoveries of new reviews, product availibility, and all these get reflected in the ever morphing spreadsheet that keeps all selected components listed. And besides, the perps just love me doing Windows select, cut/copy, paste actions, and this is a veritable study session for them.

So I reckon in not posting yesterday that some readers (ever optimistic) were disappointed, and I wouldn't be surprised if this mere normal reaction wasn't highly monitored in the TI community at least. The perps just love to arrange events to arrive at dashed expectations, and are continually setting me up for it. Last week's backyard landscaping work at my parent's place was fraught with both the gasoline power saw and the string trimmer not running efficiently or at all. In advance of that the perps had me scripted to remove a 2' wide stump from the area I was cleaning out, and lo, if the chain saw just wouldn't start, time and time again. After some on/off attention to the matter, the notion came to mind to give up on this last remaining stump, and so I did. And lo, if they didn't make me look at it again yesterday and lament the fact that it didn't get done owing to equipment sabotage. My in-town brother is the owner of the gasoline powered equipment and "never gets around" to getting it professionally maintained.

I commuted in both directions on the bus, and the accompanying city bus freakshow was in full form. And too, at the bus stop beforehand, the bus again late, this time by five minutes for extra weirds IMHO. One of the more notable weirds scenario was to have a grey haired male ponytail dude jaywalking across the street some 30' away, and then when I looked away from this Unfavored specimen they put a grey bearded gangstalker to pass in front of me, directing my attention to his grey facial hair. And then they re-directed my attention back to the ponytail act, even if I had no intention to see another male ponytail. The outbound bus had an extra complement of freaks on it, and I got a facing forward seat this time. After a black haired Caucasian women sitting in front of me I got a negro woman in the same seat with a way fugly rasta hairdo that I was allowed to block from my sight with my pack. I suppose that my pack containing a yellow plastic cased measuring tape and a hammer to take to the backyard project was also part of the deal, but in any event, the negro woman moved in her seat often enough for the assholes to give me a partial look at her dreadlock hair mess. That she lasted 15 minutes on the bus is likely a new negro gangstalker proximate placement record, as they normally pull negroes from my proximity in less than five minutes. I have no idea why this multi-racial gangstalker show continues in my presence, but negroes are quite rare here, and all that I meet/see (pre-overt harassment) were upstanding working citizens.

At my parent's place in suburbia I got the usual extra aircraft noise, and the hotrods and the loud motorbikes also kept up their relentless noise. Also added into the mix were neighbor lawnmower noise (two), wailing children, seagull mewing, and this highly unusual human-like chuffing noise that the recycle waste truck has taken to making unlike any other I have heard or at the high level of occurence. As always, these peak noise events are timed precisely, and that gives me a clue as to what is of interest to the perps. They like to noisestalk me at the precise moment of picking objects up of late, and this was confirmed yesterday.

I am back from yoga earlier; I got slightly moved to be close to the piano with the brown canvas cover over it. I had four in file male brown dressed gangstalkers on my way to yoga, so I assume they were doing their brown color reference thing while I was walking on the street. I am also getting more red dressed gangstalkers of late, a bright red. Even the instructor was in a dark bugundy outfit, and on account of the pre-emptive mat placement games, I ended up closer to the instructor than usual. The yoga practice was heavy on the pushups today, something we hadn't done before. I note my ability to do them was better than normal, but not as good as someone who is well practiced. I have had many unusual rounds of extra strength, walking gait change, arm muscle development, improved running style and improved swimming strength. It all points toward some kind of amelioration of physical weaknesses, possibly induced by lifelong targeting with strange energies. I have never complained to any doctor about this, and have never mentioned it to anyone, as it was my benchmark normal. The perps have been very prominent in researching my dopamine neural pathways in the past, and it would not surprise me that this is at the seat of musculature research, and remediation it seems.

I got awakened at 0550h this morning, making for a very long day, especially when there isn't much going on, especially after being out yesterday. I sense the perps need me to rest up and change the timing of my mealtimes for their digestion research. They like to stretch me out with longer durations between meals, having done this yesterday, and now today. Another of their interests, laundry got done earlier, and this always brings on extra noise while handling it after drying. Another first was the inclusion of a towel with the regular laundry, as the towels had been linting "by themselves". Normally, the lint inundation jerkarounds mean that towels get cleaned with the sheets, and not with garments.

The vegetable box building yesterday brought on plenty of mind-fuck perp hassle; having me lay out the landscape ties wrong, adjusting the wrong end of the level, flicking dirt on the landscape ties, having my fingers slip on the drill's direction switch, teleporting two spikes from my nail pouch at 90 degrees offset in mid air and then clanging together onto the ground were a few of the many jerkaround games they put me through yesterday. They also played up the color of the green grass to have some red tones in it that were bothersome. This is the same lawn they made entirely red when my brother and I were humphing my furniture across some two years ago. Another jerkaround trick of like kind was the assholes adding a line of navy blue plasma to the edges of objects, typically where I was measuring and needed to keep my gaze. I cannot recall all the fuckery that went on, but you can be assured the job was all about experiencing total adversity, all the time.

Big excitement in perp world is over; writing out post dated checks for my rent for the next year. In the past, they messed with my cognition to force mistakes, out of order checks and other jerking around. Not today for some reason; they take special interest when I sign anything, and the checks too. I took them up the street to the property management firm, and walked back with my coterie of weirds, and weird arrangements. The Harley motorcycle was in the front courtyard area of this apartment building, and a Japanese bike was arranged beside it this time. It is not a parking lot, but a pedestrian area, and here are these infernal motorbikes arranged there for my building egress. I am also getting plenty of loud motorcycle noise today, as it is particularly offensive to my ears. Another weird arrange for this short one block walk was to have a yellow parked vehicle with mid-street garbage beside it of the same yellow color as the vehicle. It was a yellow printed cardboard box, and I assume this is all about putting one Unfavored colored in front of another. The perps routinely rage-ify me at breakfast when I put the red jam over the brown peanut butter. They cannot screw me enough when engaged in this task.

No responses from two "sure thing" jobs I applied for yesterday; the perps intimated that something would come of these, and nothing has so far. It is all part of the FUD games, and their preoccupation with promises for which they have no intent on delivering. Worse yet, the assholes have me lined up to acquire an expensive ceramic blade knife, something that keeps "coming up" via email, Google finds and the like. I have no need for one as I get on fine with my 3" steel knife. Anyhow, they are at least $100, and I don't have that kind of money. I also noted today that they have taken a portion of my runner heels out, and this is my only regular walking shoe. There goes another $100. And I am fed up with all these accelerated and excessive expenses, not to mention $300 in chocolate each month all because they have a brown color problem with in their research.

All day I have been getting this message about a phone call, and that it would reference the two job postings I applied for two days ago. Though I did doubt that there would be a phone call, and if there was, it would be a sponsored prank call. Not quite, the dentist's office phoned up to make an appointment for teeth cleaning. Anyhow, it is so fucking absurd to be fed these ideations that are patently false, and for the record, never occured before overt harassment began in 04-2002.

I did the partime cleaning job at the car dealership tonight; being a yoga day, they were all over me, especially when I moved from the Parts and Service section to the Sales to do vacuuming. All manner of plasma and maser splatter was in my field of vision and kept following me around like retina burn. But no, I did not stare at the sun or a reflection of it, so it was the usual jerkaround games. Plus, they had two staff/gangstalkers on me once I began vacuuming, rather suspicious when no one is the usual complement. And too, they had young children cavorting about and making themselves heard in between vacuuming, and other staff were loafing and parading around. At one location I got the dude-talk, overheard male voices while the vacuum was running. It seems to be a prominent part of the harassment these days is to have specific gender voices to be overheard, and often without being able to discern words, just as general background chatter.

One of the Service staff at the car dealership put on four faked leavings; heading out and saying he was going to leave for the day and then coming back again, all to hang around over top of me while I was attending to the garbage can at his feet. Then again he said he was leaving, and five minutes later after vacuuming was done, and when taking the vacuum over to the Sales area to leave there, he was still there making out that he was leaving. And when coming back, lo, if he wasn't still putzing at his bicycle which seemed to be part of the parade/show that I was to see. Talk about tiresome, and the perps seemed to be scripting for a higher level of annoyance than would of been my own unmanaged reaction. I suppose he was getting his last day of crossing paths in, as we start the cleaning job one hour later until September, and Service and Parts don't change their hours.

Other weird or extra-conventional gravitic events tonight were minor; at one location they flipped the corner of the carpet over when facing away from it and just left it there for me to see and put back into place. The vacuum cleaner isn't working too well, and it seems they want to keep it on a reduced level for now. The perps also put me into a bummed out state for at least the first 15 minutes of the job, and even now, some three hours later, they haven't let me fully recover from the imposed mood state. I don't know what the assholes expect to get from this, but as it isn't the first time, there must be something they are looking for. They also swabbed my glasses with a whitish paste, having done the same thing yesterday under the guise of heavy sweat from working outside. They don't need any cover story now it seems; they are much more blatant with their teleportation and remote object manipulation games than ever before. The negro woman at yoga seemed to make an unusually quiet exit for some 10 minutes, given her extra labored breathing while in the classrooom, so I suspect that was her mode of travel at least in one direction. The tip off is that somehow I "just miss" seeing it happen, which if my assertion of high degree of remote control/mind-fucking is correct, then they manage me to be looking elsewhere when the disappearence moment happens. And for the record, I continually re-evaluate my model of what is going on and how, and did not arrive at this without considerable analysis.

More web surfing fantasical research, this time its stereo components (amplifier, speakers, CD players etc.) that are interesting and bookmark worthy. The perps even locked up my browser when I was about to bookmark a site, and I had to use the Windows Task Manger to stop the unresponsive session and restart the browser. All very important to them, just another jerkaround to me. I am sure this is how it is for the most part. This one is done, and time to head for bed and hope that I get to sleep earlier rather than suffering through these imposed wakefulness sessions that they seem to be so prone to do of late.

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

Pie Eyed

I am back from lunch with my mother as she happened to be in the neighborhood visiting her tax accountant. This restaurant is local, and where we usually dine, no more than a half dozen times per year. I am still being kept in a rather tipsy state, even if I did have only one beer with lunch. The waitress was gorgeous; blue eyes and black straight hair, and plenty of eye contact. There were at least three svelte blondes of the same height and build as wait staff flitting in the background, and another two who were larger, one with funky glasses. And two males on the wait staff as part of the background of people/gangstalkers passing by. It was heavy on the geriatric set today, with the odd suited male and skinhead male. The significance of these characters is written up in the postings to the right, the Favored and the Unfavored, and following the link to more postings.

I often wonder what all is being tested in such circumstances, as there is so much activity going on. But when one watches the action as a TI, it becomes clear. I doubt that a non-TI would pick up the gangstalking action and the deployment of the Favored and the Unfavored in today's restaurant scenario, as it was approximating normalcy. I had the red dressed hoodie babe sittting in front of the E. Indian babe some 10' away, and I suppose this red in front of brown needs to get yet more perp testing if the hijinx over the peanut butter and jam on toast at breakfast is something to go by.

There were a few foul looking dye jobs in the background as well, as it seems the perps are still working on why I loathe the sight of dyed red hair, never mind the same loathing of red hair. I get a few of these every day now, and again, I have no recollection as to why they are so prevalent as gangstalking personnel.

I am still being rendered sleepy, and having me near asleep while seated upright is always a perp cue. The earlier teatime didn't help, and I suppose the deemed cause could be the 1.5 hours of wakefulness the perps laid on last night while in bed. Another stunt I am getting less enamoured with.

Things got better once I had some food in me, in advance of heading out to the cleaning job tonight. I had at least four motor scooter gangstalkers at my first stop at the pedestrian traffic control, when headed to the car dealership job. The perps must of decided to let me in the reason for that; when driving a scooter, unlike a motorcycle, the person is in a seated position, just like I was for the prior 15 minutes before heading out the door. Even transitioning from seated to standing makes a big difference for the perps, and so it would seem that they needed to run seated persons on motorized scooters, one up from the infernal wheelchairs that keep hounding me.

I cannot think of any major work silliness tonight that transpired; I did get dithered into "forgetting" to do the mopping in my usual order, and doing it a few tasks later wasn't a problem with me and the boss man needing to use the mop bucket at the same time. The vacuum cleaner is still on the fritz and it would seem the boss man was avoiding me so he wouldn't hear more complaints about it.

I was reworking a laborer position resume tonight, and working on the cover letter which detailed my experience with various saws, and lo, if my brother didn't phone just then. And lo, if I didn't tell him that his chop saw he loaned out, and which I used at our parent's place, was now availible for him to retrieve. I got it; the operative perp word of the week is "saw"; have shills, quislings and operatives do all they can to introduce this word and all its variants into my vocabulary in all forms,- written (here), spoken and heard (my mother mentioned it at least three times at lunch today and was good for a few "what what" games over this very word.

I did see a likeness of the above mentioned waitress on the way to the car dealership cleaning job tonight. She looked much the same height and build, but did not look at me to flash her signature eyes for me to see and recognize. I got only one negro dude on the way back tonight, the whole two blocks that is the commute. Yesterday I got three, two were women and one in this funky outfit with her back exposed and her front covered. I have never seen anything so revealing downtown before. One of yesterday's negroes was a male, and here he was coming straight at me on a 12' wide sidewalk, and me walking on the right, and was coming straight at me, meaning he was in left hand drive mode. This isn't the first time that the gangstalkers are walking in my projected track, in fact it is the exception if they are in RH drive mode, as the oncoming gangstalkers keep wanting to pass me on my right side. Anyhow, some 15' in front he cuts to his right so there wasn't a confrontation incident, which has happened at least a half dozen times. One never knows if they are going to plant another stunt like this and have the shill blow up on me because he cannot figure out that we walk on the right side here in North America. But it is patently absurd to have so much sidewalk and still the asshole has me lined up.

Time to call this done and ponder if I will get to sleep quicker than last night; at least two hours of head flipping, one side to the other, sometimes no longer than a minute. And too, a barrage of planted notions that are just too repititious.

Monday, April 27, 2009

Back to Surreality

A morning spent outside at my perp abetting parents' place; digging over the compost, always a perp attraction of the first order. There are two compost bins (of plastic) and one pile that I created, added a composting accelerant and covered it over with black plastic about 5 weeks ago. It was the latter pile that I dug over and relocated as a new raised bed has to be built this year. I did a 4'x4' one last year, this one is to be 4'x8'. So... all that compost shovelling and then adding some in from one bin to see if its success could be replicated in the pile I had moved. My mother also did some mixing between the bins as well. I don't know what the perps interest is in compost, but it would seem that they have been working on it since 2000 when the on/off girlfriend, Ms. C. of the story, took her Master Composter's course at a local community college. She was an earth mother/gardener type, so it seemed fitting at the time. Little did I know that it seemed to be part of a larger plan, but then again, I had no idea I was so important to so many with such abusive methods with so little apparent presence. Something like that.

Just to think; all this over the fact that they just might have been laying on the abuse some 50 years ago when aged 2 to 5 and couldn't prevent subconscious traumatization associations, and are still attempting to determine thses neural energetic signatures because it represents a problem for further mind fuckery.

I actually have a little bit of percieved freedom while in my parents' backyard; even my obviously gangstalking father is away at his supposed adult day care. The reminders are the coincident noises that are timed to my shovelling, touching the plastic cover, picking up the tools or other objects (often plastics), and other "high moments" for the shadow abusers/clowns.

Then when I drive down the bus stop with my mother, why, all the vehicular traffic patterns and formations are in place, and too, street works. This time it was an asphalt paving job at an interesection, and I had to wait for the inevitable lines of color coordinated traffic that strangely aggregated in a residential area at 1300h. Regular readers and most TI's will know that the perps have a fixation about asphalt and petroleum products, and it seems this is exceedingly important that I get exposure to new and old surfaces, usually in proximity to each other. And too, it was another freakshow on the bus today, and some 40 passengers when I would expect about 10 to 15 at that time of week day, Mondays in particular. I had my Unfavored ones; red-hair, geriatrics, strange dudes, obesers and they did like to wear red today. At least four "reds" clustered around the driver wearing red, and then came the foxy Asian babe wearing tight white shorts, knee high stockings, a red top with a white vest over top, lovely big eyes and she even shot me a look before boarding the bus. (How did she pick me out, or more like why; she was 25 and I am almost 55.) I suppose she was the redemptive one, a Favored babe in Unfavored colors. I am also getting plenty of mid tone blue gangstalkers of late, ones who are wearing a similar thin blue fleece jacket like my own, as it is the current jacket that I am wearing on these fabulous sunny days we are now having.

I finally sucumbed to the mind-fuck games and ordered two tan through shirts; the perps have me pumped up on getting a summer job outside, and this riff of exuberance extended to making the online purchase. And too, they wouldn't let me do anything else; I wanted to read the online news, and they kept scrambling my attention so I couldn't read. Another $100 in the hole, and I didn't need it. Fucking tiresome, not to mention that any employment initiatives have been a big zero so far. And of course the employment activity has to be moderated by keeping this disability bullshit going, though I suspect it may run its course this year. And another stunt that I expect would be that they would want me to pay it back if I am too able bodied. This intense and all encompassing netherworld that I live in is nothing but constant perversity and abusive psychopathy (theirs).

[Update; the transaction "failed" somehow as no confirmation message was recieved as indicated]. Could this be a online equivalent to debit card transactions at the checkouts also "failing" and forcing a re-entry? Funny how it happens more often than it did pre-overt harassment, 04-2002.

An evening of playing PC builder again, something the perps get endless benefit from, all the Windows select, copy/cut, and paste action, not to mention using the search as an alternative to getting the link. I got mind-fucked into "thinking" I hadn't started a blog posting today, and lo, at the last minute I happen to notice that this was begun, and I haven't divulged today's oddities, freaks, and other strange occurences. Even the one hour part time cleaning job at the car dealership brings on all sorts of subtle and not so subtle feints. Here it is too late to get into a serious posting.

And too, I see anonymous has a number of interesting comments which I decided to publish as there isn't the time to write up responses tonight. All good comments, and nothing is inferred by my not replying to them; hopefully tomorrow I can peruse and respond.

Sunday, April 26, 2009

Fire Alarm Time

I haven't had a fire alarm for at least 10 months or more, but they pulled one this morning after I had been web surfing for some two hours. And of minor note, they forced me to have a pee before I headed out while the alarm bell was clanging in the hallway outside my apartment. They had two motorized wheel chair acts on me in the LD store while I was passing the time and not wanting to stand outside the apartment building while the fire department did their thing. The wheelchair acts were within 10' of each other, 90 degree offset, and made sure to dither in my path just ahead of me. I also got sent down the wrong aisle to compound the exposure time to the freaking wheelchair tail.

Now another one...

Back after a second fire alarm went off, though no yellow fire trucks this time. I went to the local supermarket and looked for some knick knack foods to test them out for nutritional purposes should I start daffodil bulb picking later this year. Or, at least, that was the planted rationale. And lo, if there wasn't yet another motorized wheelchair act, this time on the street after just exiting the supermarket. The theory, likely planted but has merit, is that the wheelchair acts/gangstalkers are replicating the seated position, and are in effect a
portable gangstalking emulation of what I had been doing for some two hours before the first fire alarm went off, I was seated in front of this LCD monitor, doing my regular news websurfing. And too, it might be that I loathe the sight of wheelchairs for some reason my tormentors know better than I do. Chances are they were using the same gangstalking method during the lost years of recall deletion, aged 2 to 5 y.o., and hence, have subconscious traumatization associations they cannot yet fuck with.

And the force was ready for my return to the building; a red haired woman packing a microwave (read, big magnet) wrapped up in black plastic not seeming to be concerned with the fact there was no moving going on nearby or the usual cover story. The perps have been heavy on black plastic recently; they put a huge rust stained wad of it in the first garbage can that I empty and carry around at the part time cleaning job. I suspect the rust stains might have been there for electromagnetic purposes, though it is always a mystery as to when they need these props locally, and when they don't. My 12" kitchen knife that would bleed rust if not dried immediately and it was converted to a rust free blade by some remotely applied alchemic means early in the harassment games in 2003.

And lo, after getting back after my second unplanned shopping visitation this morning, and taking off my jacket, the fire alarm went off for the third time, though only a 5 second burst. And again, once at the kitchen some minutes later, another short alarm bell burst. Can we say noisetracking?

Another fire alarm, no short burst; should I go or stay?

The alarm went on long enough to be a nuisance, so I put on my jacket and headed to the next level down when it stopped, and I returned immediately. That makes for three fire alarm durations for me to get up and head out so far today, and two short bursts. A total of five fire alarm events today, quite the fuckery. And as always, for the extended alarms, some 15 "residents" or so were gathered outside; I couldn't say I was the last out, but stopping for a PC shutdown, putting on my shoes and taking a pee gave me enough time to seriously ponder just who is actually living in this building. As mentioned in an earlier posting, the adjacent residential tower also seems bereft of a real population of residents, per fire call that was in the pictures I posted.

Time to post this I might not get back online later, and be heading out.

Not so; the phone is now conked out with no apparent cause. Internet access to the phone company is fine. So now, phone support via email just to play yet more fucking games with the assholes who have laid on the insanity extra thick already with five needless fire alarms events so far today. This is how it goes sometimes; they put on these major test days it seems. And not to mention the faux neighbor noise that has erupted as I am typing this. Earmuff time.

04-27-2009, next day
A wrap up of yesterday; the phone company didn't email back so I set off to take the bus, and lo, if it wasn't 12 minutes late when it is rarely late, and stacked with some 30 passengers, leaving one face-backward seat for me with two Unfavored freaks in front; a red-headed woman and a skinheaded male beside her. Normally, I look outside when on the bus to avoid the freaks, but it was at least three times that I was strangely compelled to look at the disgusting skinhead, a sight I particularly loathe, no matter the face. For a 1709h bus on a Sunday I would of expected maybe ten passengers, but I got the full meal deal. The alternate route bus was following as well, something they never do when N. bound, out of downtown. And for all that unplanned wait time at the bus stop, why, another minor freakshow of five clustered around, heavy on the red garments. And of course, the vehicular gangstalker show was in full force while captive at the bus stop; again, heavy on the red vehicle colors, but most often with accompanying white and silver-grey vehicles. If I don't get too messed with I will put up some pix.

Saturday, April 25, 2009

Self Flipping Tortilla

Its that silly time again when I get treated to gratuitous extra-conventional gravitic fuckery, and a new one erupted while making the usual lunch; sprouted wheat tortillas with a tapenade base, chopped chicken and melted cheddar cheese on top. (In a rare instance of variation, they let me add fresh garlic from the Similkameen Valley region last fall (2008), but they stole at least one garlic bulb from the fridge). The first tortilla gets put on last, and it gets flipped over, cooked on the other side, and then placed on a dinner plate until the rest of it has been cooked and assembled. So... while attempting to use the spatua I got my motor control frozen before I could put the spatula blade under the tortilla and lo, if half of the tortilla didn't flip and fold on itself. It was all over in a second or less, but normally the perps would make me fumble and involve my actions as a putative cause. Not this time, I couldn't move my hand or the spatula and had to wait until the stunt was over. And still they wouldn't let me use the spatula so I had to use my fingers to re-arrange the folded tortilla, and pull it out of the frypan. So it would seem that someone did not want the black nylon spatula be applied to extricating the tortilla. Not my problem, so why am I being put into this Fellini freakshow?

That was the most blatant provocation when making lunch, but it wasn't the only one, and they do like me to vocalize and get highly annoyed while engaged in regular tasks. Though it was interesting that they spaced out the provocations and didn't let the annoyance level build too much.

The noise through the earmuffs continues unabated; often causing me to take them off and plug my fingers to eliminate these protracted trail offs. Never had I had such a variable level of noise abatement in all the pairs of earmuffs that I have worn. Many of them "fell apart" or got lost, hastening more purchases to fulfil whatever color games the perps have in mind. The last pair was black colored with a little red band of trim, and after some six months or so, the connector of the headband ball to the socket of the earmuff just twisted off, all by itself. Onto another pair, deep metallic green colored, which is still being worn some four years later.

I did my 1.5 hour cleaning job at the car dealership tonight. Saturdays are best for me as the place has been vacated since 1500h or so. I still get weirds coming to the door, and the perps even sometimes make sure the door is unlocked for them, all to get direct line of sight visibility. I got a major fugly baby faced adult yesterday wanting in, thankfully the door was locked then. And it seems that Saturdays are arranged for the boss man to come a half hour later than me, which gives me more time to attend to the once/week jobs that never seem to get done. I did more window sill cleaning, and then dusting which hadn't been done in weeks. The vacuum cleaner is acting up again, having just been fixed as the upright pedal had been broken for the past four weeks. The boss man doesn't seem too moved by that, so I suppose it is all part of the ongoing beserkness that many of my associates subscribe to.

And the perps are still going strong on the topological jerkaround games with the vacuum cleaner extension cord. I don't know how they do it, but they twist the cord up in all manner of contortions that were not present when I last handled it. Another of those "I give up" jerkarounds.

And I see that the negro count is up in public for me again; one was doing "just stand there" sentry duty, and the second of three was doing this absurd running in street clothes act that erupts in my proximity with almost predictable regularity. It is a Saturday for crissakes; who would be running for an appointment then. Or a bus for that matter. I still haven't figured out the wherefores of the perps' racial interests, though I am getting to suspicious that skin color is a core part of their objectives, or has a major bearing on it. Perhaps, that extends to the Whitehouse, just to be speculative and irreverent. You can be sure I am the last to know anything about the entire spectrum of harassment games.

I had an old codger doing his ambling and gangstalking on my way back from the car dealership, and the instant I looked at his face, and his eyes in particular, a percussive noise went off. Yesterday's stop at the LD store was graced with a woman cashier who had the same light blue eye color as this codger. And she was doing her look-away act so I could look at her eyes but not have her look at me. It would seem that she was putting them on for display. I suspect the perps think they are on the cusp of whatever they gain from eye contact, and have been ramping up the eye contact and avoidance games of late. Eye color seems to be part of it, though again, I have no idea why. What seems to be consistent with the alien abductions is that they can look at someone's eyes close in, which they do, and make a determination as to their intelligence and behavioral inclinations. Just what is transpiring exactly isn't known to us earthlings, but it would seem to be some kind of interaction which the alien can read for themselves. All very curious to say the least.

Some acid reflux while I was editing above, adding in the color of the earmuffs, hastening me to take them off so I could swallow without a holy noise barrage in my mouth. Perhaps that was the arrangement; write about the very thing that one is handling, or more like, forced to handle owing to a rather rare, and imposed IMHO, event.

I did some employment looking tonight; the situation is that this seems to be an activity for which the perps want to have me go through, endless job looking. But the real piss off is that I am getting sapped of motivation and interest in applying for the few jobs that have matching skill sets and/or experience. As part of this, my assigned research for the grant grovelling is also sandbagged by the same demotivated malaise that "just happens" every day to prevent this moving forward. It sits on my to do list which never seems to get read any more. Very vexing, and my arguement is why don't they just give me the script instead of this protracted exercise of pretend while all these noises, acid reflux, and the rest of the impositions. Am I to be full time cleaner, farm worker, or resume the IT track I was on? I would really like to know. When one adds up the jerkarounds at the part time job and the mindfuck games in changing up my routines, it really does seem to be that I am in a long haul research program, and seven years later without 100% mind control accomplished demonstrates how insanely dedicated my tormentors are. And how they manipulate every last detail and nuance, especially in the latter category. Things like deleting trailing blanks, typing the "Answer to" in the comments, the order of placement of the text in the comments, just a relentless grind over every last detail of written expression, grammar, editing, Windows select, copy/cut and paste and the rest of it. Needless to say it is fucking tiresome to be ground down for this long on such a plethora of details.

My perp abetting mother was going on about faxing a letter to the UK, and the leading zero in the fax/phone number, whether to use it or not as is differs as to whether one is faxing from out of the country or not. I cannot recall which it is, but this rambling on about things she never seemed to have knowledge of is mighty curious. I spent at least a year doing all manner of software program writing and fussing over functions that trimmed, formatted, zero filled and the rest of this highly technical character representation that is neccessary for software. Once I was onto another job, the perps wiped this software knowledge from me, rendering this activity to be too cognitively demanding. Needless to say, the imposed uncertainty and motivational sandbagging over this entire life area of career and related training is very unsettling. Only with hindsight does one have a notion as to what the assholes are up to. Yesterday's big perp event of me laundering my very light tan colored work pants that have sat new and unused in the bottom drawer of my dresser for the past seven months gives me some perspective as to what they are dealing with; phenolic resins of the plywood drawer bottom in this case, which suggests that this life-rape iteration insanity has at least another three years to go. Despair isn't the word; how about hopelessness?

I am not always allowed to type or write the word I want, or sometimes the wrong ending "happens" and that I re-edit it. An example would be a word ending in "ion" gets written/typed when I clearly thought and intended an "ed" or "ing" ending. (And even having access to the grammatical term for this is getting blocked). So, it is clear to me that the perps are at the level of evaluating my grammatical syntax, yet another clue the assholes have a long way to go.

A news item for some relief; the US Navy admits in writing that they are the overseer of mind control research. Kind of suspicious isn't it, when one is born and raised in Canada and yet was surveilled and controlled from the get-go with some possible visits to the CIA sponsored Dr. Ewen Cameron in Montreal in the 1950's? I could not get my Windows copy/paste to work, but the referenced PDF document does say if the human research subject is from another country, they must get permission of the host country. Sweet of them. And too, the document emphasizes consent of the test subject as an essential first step and also a continuing process as part of their involvement. Very proper, and it couldn't be my tormentors by a long shot; they don't even subscribe to civil law, consent, democratic freedoms or the rest of that nonsense we think we operate under in the enlightened (har, har) western world. Now that the US Navy is eliminated as a culprit, how many other agencies are there and do we even know their names? I doubt the Surrepticious Sickos (SS) even have an established name. Though it is interesting that politicians seem to know of them, going by my and other TI's experiences, including one TI who was rebuffed in person by Kucinich, mentioned in a blog posting last year. Jesse Ventura, as governor of Minnesota, also mentioned a spook group who operated in the basement of the state capitol building, and they would not divulge what their mission was. (On Youtube).

Enough rambling and riffing; time to call this one done.

Friday, April 24, 2009

A Second Nap Attack

I have never normally napped in the afternoon (or other times), but today I was put through my successive nap, this time sleeping on the bed with the just laundered bedsheets. And as laundry is such a big deal for my tormentors, I shouldn't be so surprised about the nap attacks. And the outside noise, putative traffic that cannot be seen anytime I look, has been cranked up to bet through my earmuffs for longer trail-off durations. Any kind of hearing protection should cause rapid attenuation of noise, but now, these ear muffs don't. Just another anomaly.

It is a shut-in day until I head out at 1715h to the part time cleaning job at a local car dealership. I suspect the gangstalkers will be out in force then if past events are prolog, which they usually are.

Even the not-so-loud noises such as Vespas, a buzzy noise scooter, are somehow getting through my earmuffs today, and I suspect, for the longer term. The big deal of this is to have me take the earmuffs off and put my fingers in my ears to quell the ongoing noise absurdities. And to no surprise, they know how long to make the noise before I take the earmuffs off, and usually the noise is just short of that duration.

I am getting blanked out again as to what I wanted to type, so I will pass for now on attempting to journal.

A big roar of a hotrod erupts outside as I read a rather scurrilous comment that I rejected in my capacity as comments moderator. For the benefit of the author, who accuses me of being unobjective, I don't know where you get that from, not having communicated with me before. I suspect such unbidden virulence just might be the root cause of just what you accuse me of. How about declaring your clinical credentials before you spout off? Or perhaps demonstrating what you have read? The shrill shill perhaps, and thank goodness for moderated comment pages.

And constant noise from vehicles outside this entire afternoon, as before, strangely getting through my earmuffs for longer durations than a few days ago. It has been one of those days today, a near serial stream of hotrod noise, bad muffler maintenance, heavy duty vehicles and now the motorcycle noise to make sure I don't forget them. Any time I have looked outside for the causal vehicles there hasn't been one, and the noise dies down. Just the usual perversity, and plus the increased surreality that seems to have escalated in the last few days.

An extra vacuuming shift at the part time cleaning job tonight. Vacuum cleaning devices and vehicles have been a huge part of the perp scene, though I wouldn't say it was harassment per se. I do get extra gangstalking when handling the vacuum cleaner, and today, an brown wearing gangstalker standing next to a stack of brown boxes in the most absurd place, hampering egress in this very tight hallway section between Sales and the Service garage. And also, there were plenty more brown boxes constricting the aisleways in the Parts section, and even a shopping basket full of brown cardboard parts boxes ust where I kneel down to empty the garbage of one recepticle. Can the perps get enough brown things around me? Probably not, and all the more pointed when in the LD store on the way back.

A negro woman with some kind of fugly blue kerchief in her hair was my pedestrian crossing gangstalker at the traffic control, and then she "happened" to show up in the aisle I was in, and then also showed up in the same checkout behind me, with another brown skinned specimen in between, an E. Indian woman. The latter woman was also doing the same aisle gangstalking, and it seemed the two of them were alternating going down the aisle, with me finally leading them, and lo, if they didn't fall into the same checkout line, one of two that were open. I suppose the chocolate that I had in my shopping basket might have been an attraction, a local brown colored substance that serves as a reference for other "brown stalkers" perhaps. I can never get out of the LD store fast enough as it has always been an extra intense gangstalking scene in there, and that goes back to the early days of the intensified 2002 harassment. I was there when they did a wholesale replacement of all the customers, and a coordinated surge of the more odd looking ones arrived in their place. In the middle of the surge was this dude standing there with some kind of protective glasses on, not even bothering to appear to be shopping, and seemingly ready for some kind of altercation (no coat on when it was winter time). Not that there was any reason, and nor did I provoke anyone or take any such action. The mind feed of the moment was that he was a martial arts trained operative, though I have no idea why he was dispatched as the centerpiece of a gangstalker surge at the time. I haven't seen anything quite so odd since, this "flash mob" with a central sentry looking like he was braced for a fight. And I have no idea as to what the circumstances were that the perps needed this more threatening display, but it seems that 2002 was the year they threw everything at me, hoping for quick results. Recall that at the outset (04-15-2002) they had taken me somewhere for some four to ten hours, and my recollection is that I was carried aloft and then out out down in my own apartment. Very strange, but whatever they did they scrambled my recall order of what happened when, and it has taken some years to put this back in sequence. And they took my watch off me so I didn't have any time references. My watch and the rest of my pocket contents were put in my shoes, which is something I had not done, so it was mighty curious as to how they got there, never mind who had appeared to have searched the apartment in my absence. And here we are, incrementally making remotely applied mind control advances seven years later. Which begs the question, what were these assholes thinking when they tore up my life with constant overt abuse and gangstalking in 2002? As always, I will be the last to know; I suspect they knew this long haul was coming, but were looking to expedite their research with whatever they did to me when removing me from my apartment.

More pretend PC building, looking at motherboards should the money ever drop from the sky. Though it has occured to me that this may be serving the perps' needs, these reviews of circuit boards, memory slots, cabling, connectors and the like. And it does make me ponder just what the grand plan is, as so many of these motherboard recieving slots are various colors; orange, yellow, blue, black, white etc. The perps wiped out my ever reliable Tripp Lite (?) power bar a while back, and it was replaced with a lesser store bought one that was of white colored plastic with grey slots that covered off the recieving prong holes for "safety", causing me to wonder if there was a perp reason behind this. That is, to extrapolate their relentless interest in all things' colors, could the color of the wire sheathing, circuit board, recepticles, and all electronic devices have some kind of bearing on their experimentation/harassment objectives? Very possibly; at their seeming local HQ (they tell me), perched on a commanding hilltop and littered with all manner of aerials, I noticed they replaced a brown colored partial masking facade with a white one. I assume they also let me in on this, as it was brown colored one week, and white the next, and without any apparent work crew, which suggests that they may have used some extra-conventional means to change the color. I reckon at least some of the communication gear would have passed through this facade, so perhaps there was some kind of brown color interaction they wanted to eliminate. All speculative to be sure, save the fact that the perps are nuts over the color brown, and that the color of everything seems to be of such critical importance to them.

Related to the color of PC wiring, I have also ordered and installed bundled IDE cables in past PC's, and within a few months the PC "failed" and the repairman pulled them out and put back the normal ribbon cables to connect hard drives and other devices. The failure wasn't related to the IDE cables, it is just that the repair was a used as a wire/cable change that I didn't ask for or need. That is how it goes sometimes, things get changed on you and one doesn't get the parts back. I had a Nexus CPU cooler that was ordered and then installed by the PC repair personnel, and was later "disappeared" when this PC was rebuilt with a new motherboard and a stock Intel CPU cooler. Other supposed repair shop modifications have been a routed groove in the plastic facia of the case, which was later deepened to be a slot, then some months later the slot was filled in with a transparent fill, as if a window, to see the LED lights that had also mysteriously arrived. That is the short story on my PC repairs, which I haven't attempted since 2004 as the perps cause my fingers to shake and fumble for just that activity alone, that I cannot perform it. It seems they must have my PC removed from my premises for a time, and do whatever they need to do, and then have some "fallow time" with the new parts and modifications before I get the PC back. Regular readers may recall the time that I had a new glossy black Antec Solo case with all the extant PC parts installed, and lo, if the gangstalking vehicle beside me for the last two city blocks wasn't also glossy black in color before I got to the apartment entrance. Enough riffing on the color theme, and time to call this one done.

Thursday, April 23, 2009

Buzzed Out

I was forced to have an hour long mid-afternoon nap earlier, and it is the deemed cause of the cognitive sensation of being "buzzed out", still groggy 1.5 hours and a tea time later. I am all the more suspicious of these cognitive impairments, but it serves to explain similar circumstances in the Before Overt Harassment days, prior to 04-2002. Back then, and the decades before, about every two to four months I would have a day where I felt like I never truly awakened; yawns, a certain "buzzed out" sensation etc, that would last the entire day. So it seems like this state began after the nap and will keep going, perhaps until the one hour part time evening job later.

I did have yoga today, and that is always a big perp event. The negro woman who lasted all of a few minutes at the last class returned and was sitting outside when I arrived. I didn't get her beside me like the last class, as they had two regulars between us. Interesting that the perps didn't groom me on Asians and then E. Indians beforehand, like they usually do in exposing me to incrementally browner skin tones. All part of the show it would seem. And lo, if the first two individuals I saw when I exited the class weren't negroes, both women. As regular readers will know, they are infrequent here, and seeing two disparate negro women as the first human specimens on the street outside the classroom is no random fluke, especially having one make her full time debut in the yoga class beforehand.

One negro woman was standing at a doorway, and the second was on the street, "happening" to meet the driver of a stopped vehicle (in mid-street for crissakes), and she then chatted to the driver in this outrageous stunt, and then she got in, all to arrive in front of me partially into the crosswalk for me to cross in front of the vehicle. This latter woman got a sidewalk, ashphalt street, an open vehicle chat, and then a vehicle passenger role all within some 30' ahead of me. And I was glad I didn't need to see her fugly dayglo "thing" on her head any more than I had to.

And as this yoga class was the first in two weeks, I suppose it was a big event for the perps. The streets were thick of "just stand there" sentries, and they even put on a skit with a policeman, the yellow jacketed "security dudes" who now patrol public streets for some unknown reason, and the apparently offending native Indian vagrants. Other "just stand there" sentries were putting on the vagrant act and even standing behind a corner so they could be seen at a closer range than normal. The fuckers did the same thing at the hospital in the major jerkaround days of 2002-03, "happening" to pop out just as I came by. I asked the doctor why this was occuring at a frequency far greater than normal and he said he didn't know. Just like much of the rest of the bullshit that went on at that time; it was arranged, and when I complained it was blown off or else it stopped immediately afterward. Funny how that keeps happening.

And I see that the cursor for this primitive Blogger/Blogspot application has now "disappeared", and all to increase the typos and add FUD to the experience of blogging.

I did the part time cleaning job at the car dealership tonight; no major jerkarounds, but a few disjunctions. the boss man told me yesterday that I was to do dust mopping under the showroom vehicles, and I said that was fine. Then tonight, he did it all, and never mentioned the topic, and the only way I knew about it was that he left the dust mop remains on the carpets for me to clean up with the vacuum cleaner. Not that I mind, but this is at least the second time he has told me about a major job change up and then reneged without a rationale.

But it has been a minor surreality day today. So many noises, often with addtional volume, are being separated from the ostensible source/cause. I rountinely pick up my knife from the dish drain mat and it is still making a clattering noise of being picked up when it is clearly in my hand and not contacting anything. This particular example has been deployed for at least six months, but this noise-action disconnect has now been applied to nearly everything I touch or interact with today, and is an over-all escalation of the weird. And I fear, for the forseeable future, as many of these new (extra-conventional physics) realities are introduced incrementally and then the remainder all at once. This would mean, more than ever, casting judgement on everything I do, handle, place or otherwise physically interact with by determining what was faked; noise, touch sensation, object movement and was it enhanced by the perps with their object manipulation fuckery games. Little did I know that when carried aloft of six dudes in suits back to my apartment in 04-2002, that I would be living in two worlds; the physically conventional and then the extra-conventional, and mapping my experiences between the two at every jucture, including the keystrokes of what I am writing at this moment, as these keystroke sounds aren't the same when I have my earmuffs on, allowing for mapping them and expectable differences between live and muffled noise through the earmuffs. Plus, the earmuffs have taken on a scuffling sound as if they are contacting my shoulders, although there is no felt sensation of such.

Other escalated surreality of late has been seeming teleportation obviousness, and/or blankouts to ensure there is an unusual discontinuity between what happens and what I expect to be normal. At least six gangstalkers arrived around me at about 1720h when I was waiting at a pedestrian crossing on my way to the car dealership cleaning job. This neighborhood doesn't have that many commuting pedestrians, and yet, here they were arriving silently and one after the other, each time when I wasn't looking. Then ditto yesterday when cleaning the car dealership's Service section. I step out of the room for three seconds, and lo, a "customer" has arrived and is comfortably leaning on the counter in discussion with the remaining staff member. The episode didn't make sense for how this person got in, got settled, and got into the details of his repair in such a short time. If he had been fumbling at the door when I exited the room I could buy that. Anyhow, this isn't the only example of individuals "showing up" from unexpected directions when they didn't return via the only route they could in conventional circumstances.

Other extra-conventional surreality was today at yoga. The one other guy arrived about the time I did so I walked with him from the front door to the class room. He ducked out to change into his gear, as he was wearing a light tan brown pants. He comes into the class room later, and he is wearing jeans and saying he forgot to bring his shorts. The instructor made a comment about his loose pants and that was fine. Then about halfway through the class he is wearing his tan brown pants again and had not left the yoga mat the entire time. The woman next to me was also subject to an in-class teleportation clothing change; she was wearing a black top and then later it was a dark navy blue and no other shirt was present and nor did she leave her yoga mat. So it would seem that the perps have graduated from the extant clothing colors and need a clothing change in-class for a shorter duration than the one hour class. Fucking bizarre to say the least, on top of the above mentioned negro woman introduction.

And the four month duration of having drafting tape over my very leaky window and sliding glass door ended today. The wind howls and very significant amount of cold air infiltration meant that these should be sealed off with one of the perp's very favorite adhesives, drafting tape. It did the job, and it looks to be the right time to remove the tape as it is very warm this week. A likely outcome next week will be a howling gale with very cold air to force a repeat if the pattern of perp fuckery is reliable, which it is. I only mention this because the perps are totally nuts about adhesives and tape, and needed this longer term application over the shorter time of last winter. I don't know why the perps are so bent out of shape about this arcane subject, but they are, and this is merely a record of this bullshit that seems to be part of a big intrusion day for them.

Another arcane interest of theirs is my laundry, and that meant the inaugural laundering of a pair of work pants that were purchased 09-2008, and only used for the first time this week. And it seemed that the perps needed me to have more contact time with the garment by dealing with endless loose threads that sprang forth, even if it had been trimmed before. This makes for "souveniers" of threads that are later dispatched to the garbage can, and too, more threads from the jeans that were also laundered, having been worn this week. The perps fucked my finger motor control in handling the shears and loose threads and turned the exercise into a rage-ification event, all likely related to the fact that they won't declare themselves in this ongoing insane provocation assault. I have never had any motor control problems, and then it suddenly erupts over this garment. And of some importance to the perps, it is a light tan brown with black panels on it, and represents the very first brown colored garment they have allowed me to wear in over five years. My camel colored sweaters of the day suddenly sprang holes in them and the alteration person wouldn't fix them. And note, these work pants have been worn only for some three to five hours in the day while doing landscape clearing at my perp abetting parent's place this week. Within day clothing changes seem to be more important to the perps of late, and they are contriving more events and circumstances to have this occur. I suppose this represents some progress for them, but for me, it is just more jerking around to play dumshit games for those without the intestinal fortitude to present themselves in person after 54 years of nonconsensual human experimentation. And as I often gripe about, per yesterday's blog posting, they seem to have created more adverse circumstances for themselves, and keep me in this torment for longer because of it.

This blog posting is done for today, and I suppose I will be putzing online tomorrow to fulfill yet more of the psychopathic agenda.

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

Late Blog Start

My first entry of the day, and I was busy at my perp abetting parents' place doing yard work, now finished. Again, more adversity; the gasoline powered string trimmer worked for a minute with the new sharp edged string, beating the ten second run time with the previous string type. Woo hoo, I am allowed to run a string trimmer for a minute, and then spend another five pulling the string out which is supposed to release with the push knob on the head, but doesn't, and not even with the aid of the pliers I had brought. Then the trimmer just stopped for no reason, and so it was arranged that the chain saw, also gasoline powered, was needed to chop down more stumps off the red osier dogwood jungle that had been there. But no, I wasn't allowed to run it for more than a minute and it just packed it in, no matter five more attempts with a suitable interim "wait time" for my tormentors. Their abiding tactic is to have me start things, stop in mid-course, and then come back in varying iterations of work, then divert. Back and forth, string trimmer and then chain saw, until it was totally hopeless. Even a post lunch time-out for the chain saw didn't revive it, and when there was other noisetalking each time I pulled on the starter, which gives a big electromagnetic kick in the process, I knew this jerkaround wasn't just for me. End of my ambitions to clean up the site to the level that I wanted to. And the perps like to create these trashed/dashed expectations, and I don't know why, except they have been highly consistent about it.

Therefore, it was manual weeding and rotten stump pulling after that with plenty of accompanying neighbor noise (lawnmowers, trimmers, and children). Another perp jerkaround is to have the victim do the same thing by various methods; using a chain saw, then loppers, then manual pulling, all for fucking around and cleaning out a plant jungle my mother let run riot. As always, the hotrod noise started up and was occuring near serially in a residential neighborhood, not to mention the lingering aircraft doing aerobatics if its noise pattern was accurate.

Back to the gasoline powered tools: I owned these items both for many decades and always kept them in good repair; I cannot abide to have a useless tool. It either gets maintained and kept useful or it gets tossed. Perhaps this is because my father was such a bumbling twit and had his tools in poor shape or even in a findable location. As my in-town brother is the owner of the above mentioned gasoline tools, I don't have direct control over their maintenance like I would if I owned them (sort of- long story). But as I gave up property ownership on account of this insane imposition, I don't expect to be able to apply my normal standard of tool repair. Needless to say, my in-town brother "forgot" to fix these tools like I told him to, so I would surmise he is doing exactly what his handler is requesting; have the victim experience more adversity in running borrowed tools because we have impoverished him so he doesn't own them any more, and would never keep them in the state of disrepair we require to piss him off with the arranged malfunctioning. And it so happened that I used the same string trimmer over a year ago at my in-town brother's place and had no problem with starting it, operating it and keeping the string long. Suddenly, this time, it has no end of problems in operating it; all because some sick asshole has decided that I haven't had enough of being jerked with by way of imposed adverse fuckery/tyrany. Something like that, and I want to be the first to take a baseball bat to the head of the perp asshole who decided this four day run of yard work with constant imposed adversity was "needed".

One also gets the impression that the perps cannot allow me to undertake any activiy with regularity and competence, as they abhor these notions, and also don't get enough fuckover "action". And of course this insane outlook precludes any kind of regular work as they need more things to go wrong more often than any fulltime employer would put up with. My ex was associated with a long list of things going wrong and generally fucking things up, especially financially, and I suppose the perp assholes want to continue to this insane agenda even now, as obviously they didn't didn't attain the desired outcome in the 47 years of covertly applied jerkarounds. All these years of being married to a constant fuckup, and when I get free, what happens?- I get sandbagged by the perps' overt program of fuckery which embraces the same precepts; constant fuckery, fuckups and imposed adversity. Now if they would just tell me why they need to apply this to me after seeming to fuck up themselves, I would be truly blessed.

For the record, or broken record perhaps, the perps seemed to have created a number of traumatization associations that they cannot yet access or defeat/modify, some stemming from giving me LSD at four years of age (what they tell me, and what they emulate with the various colors of plasma augmented on everyday objects). And another fuckup they tell me about, is that the normal ingestion of pollutants, plastics in particular, makes it very difficult for them to remotely read me, as these substances have very different properties at the quantum level than they do at the macro level. This they also tell me, and it seems to be the case with the numbers of plastic bag people, irrigation PVC pipe trucks in my proximity, and the plethora of plastics that are arranged my proximity, including above mentioned yard work where plastics of decades past are "found". Of late, the plastic bag stalkers have been parading red plastic bags about, as that seems to be a particularly bothersome color for them. So if the perps had started this scurilous life-raping rampage some 100 years ago, and followed their victims into the 1950's, they would of avoided the majority of the pollutants that the population now carries in their systems, and which presents such a huge operational problem. And I have no idea if the perps are cleaning me up of pollutants, or are somehow modelling their cellular effects; either is so improbable, but they seem to be making progress on some fronts. And don't forget, the perps were overtly life-raping victims over two hundred years ago, and that is documented in the Air Loom Gang, listed under books to the right side.

I took the city bus both ways today, and the normal freakshow was back again. After yesterday's absence, save the dude in the day-glo fushia shirt who got off after two stops with a woman wearing the same color who got on separately, I was wondering if there was a trend to decreasing the city bus freak show, but alas, no. I am getting blanked out as I type this, and cannot recall today's specifics, but suffice to say, they were there in spades along with the profusion of odd sorts at the bus stops; a one bus stop riding negro/E. Indian (couldn't figure him out and didn't want to). Then another negro near the bus stop when inbound; he was hanging with other teenagers clustered in front of the side of a white trades van in the parking lot where I got dropped off; freaking strange to have any cluster of people in a shopping center parking lot for the most part.

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Virulent Tuesday

From an obit on JG Ballard;

"His late novels never flinch from addressing the "elective psychopathy" that increasingly riddles the anaesthetised world we are now beginning to inhabit. It is a fate Ballard had been predicting for half a century. His fiction was perhaps too invariant for him to rank as the greatest literary figure of his generation but of all the writers of significance in the last decades of the 20th century, he was maybe the widest awake."

Maybe we are already there, and us TI's are cursed with knowing this first hand.

A very perp beserk morning; at least 50 yellings at the assholes before I was done the breakfast and shower, shave and dental hygeine routine. All manner of provocations; dithering finger control (many times), the crackling noise, fucking me out of knowing what to do next, flicking pills out of the bottle, marking the wall with a brown mark which was first noticed by a same colored plasma emanation to my eyes, countless serial traffic noise outside, the most egregious was duelling back up beepers of differing tones which alternated while eating chocolate (an imposed staple), hacking me up with surficial cuts after shaving (a new blade shouldn't cut any), impairing my speech, assignment of a new voice sound at every enragement, direct theft of peanut butter from the jar, crumb inundation, even the blatant kind of them showing up some 12" from the plate with no cover story, flicking micro droplets of milk 8" from the bowl, extra clanging of the spoon on the ceramic bowl, and a few others not allowed to be recalled.

Things did settle down, and I haven't had quite the abuse train since. I went back to my parent's place to continue with the yard work from yesterday for much of the day, though I did get more adversity. The gasoline powered string trimmer kept losing string length, about five seconds into running it on soft plants even, and then later, the electric shears motor burned out. Back to using the loppers to cut the woody stubs that remained, and generally cleaning up. Plenty of noise events erupted each time I applied the loppers to cutting stems and branches, either directly off the shrup to thin it out, or else cutting the ones that had been pruned to enable them to be packed tighter in the refuse bags. Plastic bags are never very far from the harassment action, and of course having a part time cleaning job makes for plenty of "plastic action" for the perps, as if the irrigation service trucks packing 20' PVC lengths wasn't enough, and the surge of "plastic bag (packing) people", aka ambulatory gangstalkers I get everywhere in public.

When I arrived at my parents' place my mother was attempting to type a letter, and I ended up helping her while attempting to understand the nature of the content. It seems that she is getting contradicting advice on how to transfer monies from the UK in my father's name. He is on the dementia act/path (haven't figured it out for sure), and hence my mother has a power of attorney here. But in the UK, after first being amenable, then changed their minds as to the documentation requirements, and she was attempting to appeal this phone call decision that contradicted an earlier letter.

I took the city bus in both directions, and I got my dude posse arranged around me with a few large females just beyond them. It was decidedly light gangstalker load, perhaps only 15 on board at any one time, though I had hordes of streetside gangstalkers on me for the two block walk to the bus stop. And the delivery trucks were even set up to be parked along the streets as ersatz large colored panels. I got plenty of red plastic bag action/packing gangstalkers, as this seems to be a hot color for the perps of late.

What was more surprising was the bus ride back into downtown. For the first time since being a public transportation rider (06-2006), I would have to admit there was no city bus freakshow. I should qualify that; there were freaks, but they stayed at the bus stop and did not board the bus even if it is the only one on that route! For the record, at least five walkers, wheelchairs, mongoloid types were assembled at the bus stops, and the rapid rotation of the gangstalkers only going one bus stop along the route also occured. There was about 8 passengers on board at any one time, which is about what I would expect at 1530h heading into downtown from the suburbs. Often I get raucous high school students at that time, but there were only about three muted ones. Mighty curious indeed. There was a full-on vehicular gangstalking going on all around the bus though, it wasn't like there was any reduction of the formations of silver-grey vehicles, mid-greys, blacks and whites with later reds and dark greens. And more of the light metallic tan colored vehicles now; the perps are getting very "brave" (or progressive, or whatever) as to putting two or three of these together in a same direction cluster.

I played PC builder tonight, and it is always interesting to see how this unfolds; sudden "inspiration" to check out prices elsewhere makes for a total gamechanger when I put these proposed builds together on a spreadsheet, a nexus of the Windows select, cut and paste activities the perps so like to monitor and noisestalk.

This one is done for now, hopefully not too many typos.

Monday, April 20, 2009

A Strangely Mellow Monday

This is normally the day they go beserk and set the stage for the week, though as soon as a pattern is allowed to be detected, they can change it. But it is the day I return from the perp abetting parents place, and eating their food, staying overnight and doing yard work around there is just too exciting for my perp tormentors. It would seem that they spend the remainder of the week jerking me around in attempting to apply the gleanings of my visitation to me at my apartment downtown.

I did yard work there yesterday afternoon, and this morning, and am due to do more this week, and the perps like me to engage in this activity. From the get-go of the overt abuse onset in 04-2002, they have paraded landscaping company vehicles in my proximity, often trailering cut foliage. And then to have me doing weed whacking and chainsawing with family members about, why, that is just too much fun for sick minds, now having pursued this obscure quest for over seven years. What the quest is uncertain, but they have been highly consistent on this topic/objective to say the least. Like I mentioned in a blog posting in 01-2009, they even had my in-town brother drown a captured squirrel while I was pruning his plants only 10' away. Which of course is nothing to the perps if my read on their hand in other human activities is correct, but I won't get into that for now.

And also, they like to have me using herbicides every now and again, and today they were indeed used to quell the riot of unwanted ground cover my mother wanted removed. As usual, there was a new perp arrangement; the every effective Roundup (glyphosate) isn't "availible" here anymore, so it remains to be seen what the substitute will do. It is getting fucking tiresome to say the least; many of these initiatives over yard work and gardening have now gone on for over two years now, and it seems that they are just pissing around. And possibly lining me up for another summer of daffodil bulb picking with the loonies, all to get me out of hock from their imposed chocolate consumption habit, their brown food obsession. And if you think I made all this up, please read the Introductory Postings at the right, and the Link List too.

And it was a two event afternoon yesterday, a big day for me that is kept doing squat much of the time. My brother's garage sale purchases were some heavy tower bells, 150lb and 400lb, and he needed help in moving them into his van. We only got the smaller one in, and he gave up on the larger one as it didn't have a yoke to handle it. And he made two more garage sale stops as part of the "tour", to have me visit the Rockland area, the one that I can see from my apartment.

Afterward, it was an early visitation to the parents' place to do the first round of yard work and do battle with my in-town brother's weed whacker that he never gets repaired so it runs reliably. Ditto for his chainsaw. As part of the goings on, the goggles needed a new strap, and a white hem elastic was proffered as the solution, and it did work after a great number of stunts with the plastic googles falling off, getting tangled up with the earmuffs and other assorted fuckery, also called a litany of vexation.

It hasn't all been mellow; a screaming rage-ification erupted when they foiled my finger movements to obstruct me from grasping a teabag sachet in the box. But they did let me open and close the box OK, often another source of rage-fication. This is part of the run-up to making tea, and is often a process for which the perps want me rage-ified, while the tea is changing color, or steeping. The perps are totally beserk over any color changes I am exposed to, the more fraught and/or noisestalked events are changing clothes, having the toilet flush (contents down, clear water replacement with interim dilution), and a few others that won't come to mind.

I did the cleaning job tonight at the car dealership; and for once the "do it quick" command was met with relatively few "gone wrong" events where say, I am jerked around with extra cleaning and/or adversity. The coiled vacuum cord did fly off by itself when I picked up the vacuum cleaner; the boss man and at least two Fuckwits were closing in on me at the time, and I was 12" away from the silver-grey sports car that is parked next to the broom closet where I got it from. There is also a silver grey pickup also backed up to the broom closet.

I see in the Service garage at the car dealership the black sports car with the brown rag top is now in its eighth week of being moved around in the shop. Tonight's parking job was to have a silver grey sedan 6' up on the hoist with the black Miata parked next to it, almost encroaching to be underneath. And as the sports car was blocking egress between garage sections, the only normal course to get around it was to go under the hoisted vehicle. Naturally, extra noise broke out for the few seconds as I passed underneath the vehicle. As always, plenty of car parts are, seemingly, put on display. The most egregious is a front end that is on a frame on wheels, and is moved around to differing bay locations. Not too surprising is that no work is getting done on it, the original peripatetic repair job, now in its second week. It seems the perps not only need to "chase me" with parked vehicles in all manner of orientations, and car parts, but now sub-assemblies. And of course, I get to pass by many of the new parts, many of which are packed in cardboard material, a constant refrain in the harassment games.

I had a two party vagrant honor guard for my walk back after the cleaning job, and per usual, had to stop for shopping at the local supermarket, also duly "stalked up" with gangstalkers. Per usual Monday practice, I get many yellow dressed gangstalkers, as I don't take my yellow capsule medication when I stay at my parent's place, part of the designed "forget" bullshit I get put through. Not that the medication does anything for me, as I have found no difference when it was "forgotten" on the two travel weeks of the last two years. But it is the hook by which I get rent benefits, and I am sure it does help the perps in some way, and they don't particularly care that it is taking seven years of constant abuse to figure out.

The yellow jackets are out in more numbers today; these are the twits that decide to wear yellow as some kind of "safety" concern or the security Fuckwits who continue to loiter around on public property. The latter has erupted in the supermarket and LD store complex since two months ago, and it seems to be custom designed to have brown skinned individuals loiter around with a plausible rationale. But they should get the fuck out of public property loafing and stay in the stores instead IMHO.

Another big perp event was that I wore the work pants I bought in 09-2008 and put away in my drawer since then. Note, that means they were sitting on plywood, containing phenolic resins, a big interest of the perps. And too, the pants were a very light tan brown with plenty of black portions on it, presumably as some kind of color reference that they seem to need. And another likely perp challenge was that I was scripted to wear them while doing yard work yesterday and today, and then changed out of them with my extra faded light blue color jeans, also seeming to be a favorite perp color after introductory greyscale colors. So... the big plan in 09-2008 was for me to get these work pants, in the very lightest tan brown, with about equal areas of black panels on them, and then have them sit in a fucking drawer with a plywood bottom for six months. (bottom drawer, over the grey carpet and the concrete below). It is another major clue as to the methods of the Fuckwits and that the entire notion at the time of getting laboring work in 2008 and 2009 was total planted bullshit. I never did get any calls back from the "sure leads" I got from my farming co-workers, and now I know why. Chances are that I am being groomed for another summer of farm work picking daffodil bulbs, which at least gets me out of hock. Hopefully I won't get sucked into getting any more work clothing, which was where my money was spent. Bu tthe perps are pestering me over getting tan-through shirts, and for the record, I don't need them and cannot afford them for all the chocolate I am forced to buy.

More PC building reveries and all the itemizing of components on a spreadsheet with plenty of Windows select, cut and copy action for my tormentors.

Saturday, April 18, 2009

Tea Without Chocolate

I know that not having chocolate with my tea is relatively rare, but when some malevolent mind-fuck agency arranges it with demotivational slump, it must be a big deal. Bie enough that the garbage was tossed out in the chute at the other side of the building, and that I got a phone call timed exactly when I finished my first mug of tea, and before it got refilled. Regular readers and TI's will know that there is a very curious level of timing of phone calls to circumstances in this kept world I exist in, and so the call was duly answered at this seeming critical juncture for the perps. A five minute call over a request of my in-town brother to help him move some garage sale objects, and a few other details, but I suppose it was all that was needed. This little interuption and engagement with an electromagnetic device at my right ear was a highly arranged event. Pathetic, for the perps, that is.

And it is Saturday, and for most of it I have been controlled to believe it was a regular weekday. Even the notion of what day of the week it is remains a huge mind-fuck jerkaround. Then, for the latter few hours of the day I get to know, courtesy of my mind keepers, that it is in fact Saturday, and that might be why there is a paucity of web site news. Just more of the same in this dysthymic suckdown that is the current state of affairs. And I suspect there is a concerted mind-fuck/life-fuck drive on this topic, as it clicks with past employers who have had weeks of nothing to do for some strange premise.

So..., a modicum of aggravation first thing this morning that built up as soon as I left for the bathroom after breakfast, and anytime that I am offline. I get plenty of frozen screen displays and mouse clicks that don't work, and then do, but for whatever reason, the perps don't want me to scream at them while online. Or at least, so far, and not in any string of relentless enragement like elsewhere.

Back to playing PC builder with a whack of cash, as in NOT. But I have my mind keepers constantly reminding at every Windows, select, cut or copy, and paste activity they are still watching, if not interfering. Another holy battle is over spreadsheets; more commands are being inserted, and going back to even 2000, they wouldn't let me write fuctions (like SUM) to total columns up. Even today, it is a huge pain in the ass, and keeps "failing". Though, they finally did allow me to complete it, a nine year fuckover stunt that probably isn't over.

I did the cleaninjob tonight; the usual small things "happening"; sudden arrivals of debris after finishing vacuuming, an extension cord that keeps twisting and turning, a seeming Sales dude following up my asshole, and plenty of motorcycle noise while running the vacuum at the entry area carpets, and later at the same location, cleaning the door glass. As the business spans the width of a city block, and is at the end of it, it is bounded by roads on three sides. This makes for traffic noise eruptions as it follows me depending where I am in the building.

This one is done; nothing too exciting, and that is a good thing in these circumstances.

Friday, April 17, 2009

Late and Short

A whole day of web surfing and related schlepping, and finally I get around to blogging at this time. Not that there is much to say about a shut-in day, save a trip to the part time cleaning job at the car dealership. The job got sabotaged for 15 minutes by the mop bucket going "missing", and the putative party was the scooter dealership that operates out of the basement. I walked the entire building at the main floor and upper floor, and each time I walked by the glass I had someone on the outside paralleling me from the sidewalk or parking lot. Suffice to say, someone had me lined up down to the microsecond and arranged me to be gangstalked from outside and walking in the same direction. This "happened" on three of the four sides of the building. The boss man also made this all possible by arriving 15 minutes late, just a coincidence of course.

I had a few things go wrong, as in extra-conventional gravitic sabotage; coiling of the vacuum cord is particularly fraught of late with the cord taking on some kind of kinks that won't lie flat with the rest of it. And too, there are endless topological games in having the electrical cord get tangled and hung up. Such is life in the adverse imposition realm/prison.

And for once, even a short respite of "only" abated harassment. I made dinner tonight, and it lasts for four meals as it gets cut in four. This is usually when they lay on the harassment as they wouldn't get all the opportunity when having the leftover meals as it goes from fridge to my dinner plate. And in a all too rare event, they eased up on the adversity and harassment, and there were some 8 to 10 relatively minor adverse events, worth ranting about, but nothing enraging. Any made meal like this usually gets between 40 to 60 adverse events, many of them at rage-ifying "reaction" levels. I wondered if it was a holiday or possibly some kind of operational glitch where they didn't crank me up for the 30 minutes of meal preparation, eating and dishes cleaning. Very odd to have an unexpected reprieve like this, and I can count them on one hand for the seven years of this insane abuse, as a consequence of seeming childhood abuse that presents some kind of impasse for the assholes.

I had my swarms of gangstalkers at the intersections on the walk back from the car dealership; I cannot get over how important it is to the perps that crossing the street is a huge event for them. At least 16 ambulatory gangstalkers at the last intersection before the apartment. And lo, if that big yellow motorcycle wasn't parked there as some kind of welcome home prop. I don't know why motorcycles figure so prominently for the assholes, though they tell me it relates to the lost years of when I lived in Montreal, 1956 to 59. That only makes me more curious, but only they know the answers.

I am getting the highly perturbing knee torquing. This is where they rotate the lower portion of one's leg and slowly exert until pain erupts. Then I move my leg and they start all over again, left leg only tonight (so far). It makes one very restless, and as part of this torture gestalt, they are making me to be extra irritable and prone to switch web pages prematurely. And then typo sabotage with four in the previous sentence until they redirected my attention to them for fixing. The repair of typos invariably begets outside noise at the instant I am converting it to a readable word. They seem to want to capture the moment of rendering a word, and free it up from the usual construct that it happen at the last letter of the word. Fucking bizarre.

The knee torquing torture ended thankfully, and now more online reading obstruction; causing the lines of text to bend in an arc, and also placing a maser exactly where my point of focus is. This one is done for the day.

Thursday, April 16, 2009

No Yoga, But New Eyeglasses Back

A rare Thursday with no yoga. One could read that the perps wanted me contained today, and didn't want me to get the exercise, all in preparation for optimal gangstalking for the two block lengths to retrieve my eyeglasses, now in the second round of being sent away and modified to add cable temples. The first time they put them on too short and ignored the mark on the temples that told them where to place the join. This time, they got it right, even if they did add some extra metal in to make up for the missing 1.25" on either side. I am sure that having dissimilar metals on my eyeglasses makes for perp interest, but I really don't care. I just don't want them being moved all the time or flying off as they were

And it was a huge deal for the gangstalker community, as was each time I have gone to the opticians and picked up or dropped off my eyeglasses. No fedora dudes this time, but instead, a shade wearing Fuckwit lounging in this black vehicle at the curbside, and two women opposite, set up for me to walk between the two parties. Part of the perp attraction is the one way street outside; they can park in the opposite direction to normal. There was also a cluster of six disparate Fuckwits all walking in near file, and all at the same speed, quite hilarious sometimes. The big long groups in file seems to the their preferred ambulatory configuration of late, even if it looks totally stupid.

I had the ever doting blonde woman optician assisting me, and she did some bending of the temples which gave me plenty of eyeglasses off time for the staff to strut around in my out-of-focus vision. The babe with the funky stockings with a leaf-like design in them and the red checkerboard clunky shoes seemed to get plenty of strut time in, and she did have nice legs with her short skirt. Her name was Roxy.

At the opticians, the skulking E. Indian dude was in place, getting blonde face time in advance of her attending to me. I suppose he was some kind of brown skin test. Normally he furtively hangs about in the blonde woman's auric penumbra, and then scoots out of there inside of five minutes. But today, he hung in there, even if out of my view, he wasn't far away, some 8' behind me and staying seated at the fitting desk. Regular readers will know that the perps are obsessed over the color brown, and in particular, presenting brown skinned individuals in my proximity, and usually moving them out after a short (less thant 5 minute) exposure. I don't know what their issue is, though they did recently supply a general explanation to me that also ties in their "need" to have me eat 300g of chocolate each day in 3 sittings.

Their explanation as to the brown color interaction stems from the fact that a certain part of our body has some brown substance stored in it already, and is interacting with other organs, and of special interest, one's brain. And as they cannot figure out the specifics of the interaction, they have me eat brown foods, and add in brown chocolate feeding times as well. In this way they hope to get a full brain brown color interaction profile, as remotely determined, as they are too fucked up to show up in person and expedite this tryranny, and would rather harass the living fuck out of certain citizens they made long term bets on when children. One of them being me, and with blanked out years from age 2 to 5. I am not the only person they are harassing, but without intending to sound immodest, I seem to be one of the most actively harassed TI's. Or at least, as far as I know as they like to keep me in an information bubble, and arrange my news reading to be minimally apprised of what is gong on locally. There could well be other like victims in this town, and with the degree of focus on me, I would not be surprised the assholes don't have a number of others also being severely contained.

My story is consistent with many other TI's, and it couldn't all be possible to have the same harassment, even going back two hundred years. Some got wiped so they didn't recall any childhood abuse (me, seemingly), and others are way messed up with ongoing major traumatizations. Lynne Moss Sharman is not a TI in the sense of being knowingly harassed and gangstalked as an adult, but she went through a lot of hospitals and military camps as a child and recalls some of the doctors by name. I still haven't heard from her from my email requests, so I don't know what the deal is; email obstruction or her own choice.

And I got a recent narky comment that I rejected; all I ask is that the author be objective and evaluate the context as well, and come to your own determination. And if can't do that, you aren't getting published.

About four months ago one of the past Anonymous commenters, (one of four, some Anonymous commenters are very thoughtful), wanted to debate this, and he didn't go one round, he just went sideways in the first email and then faded out. (Or did I cut him off as he was getting too stupid?). I don't know what the deal is with yesterday's narky bullshit; if you are interested to read this blog, and not many are, then bring some intelligence to bear before you make another fatuous comment like the last one. Or at least, look at the pictures in some of my postings of the color coordinated vehicle arrangements and then shut the fuck up or else me tell how I might have arranged it. Again, this does not apply to the recent two Anonymous commenters who have been offering interesting perspectives and experiences.

And it is a day of continuing noise that is getting through my earmuffs; I have no idea as to how such faint sounds get through them. I take them off my head to determine the true loudness level, and the source noise is still faint. Mostly so far, it has been two cycle motorcycle noise, about one per four minutes, and we are nowhere near a biker's bar. I don't know why the perps are so keen on presenting motorcycles, as they often want me to see them as much as to hear their most horrific noise. I suspect that whatever adverse reactions I have to motorcycles got totally wiped from recall, to limit the traumtizations, save the ones they cannot yet fuck with, that being subconscious associations. Hence both noise and parading parked motorcycles for me to see.

And a most interesting web site I found that began with Wide Lawns and the Chicken Feet story. There really seems to be regenerative properties to chicken feet; extracted as a broth, or the rare event of someone attempting to commercialize its healing properties. A interesting diversion that I thought I would pass on.

That snowballed into reading this on the Inert Gas Therapy page (parent page);

"Primary Energy: Inert-gas therapy is based on a concept that space is something not nothing as most scientists believe. This something is called ether, which permeates all of our three and also higher dimensional space. Through inter-dimensional vortexes and gradients in this all-pervasive ether, a primary energy ultimately becomes the source of all of our more familiar forces, such as electromagnetism, gravity, and nuclear forces, and, as indicated by Einstein’s E = mc2 equation, all mass that forms our physical reality. Because it is this primal energy in which the universe’s anti-entropic, creative forces, including our individual and collective consciousness, are mediated through, it is not confined to scientific speculation, but has profound eschatological, cosmological, and spiritual significance."

And another paragraph to add:

"All attributes of consciousness, such as your thoughts, attitudes, emotions, and perceptions, are stored in your energy fields. It is important to conceptually understand this because your belief systems determine whether you can productively access and direct the inherently neutral, inert-gas primary energy for healing purposes, including spinal cord regeneration."

I have no need for spinal cord regeneration of course, but I thought the unusal precepts behind it and the bold and readable assertions fitted the situation that the perps have me contained in. As mentioned many times before, I am being kept in a densified magnetic field (400x normal in late 2002), and it seems to be that this enhances the perp's abilities to measure these etheric fields at a distance. I get gravitation perturbation stunts and action-at-a-distance harassment all the time. And of course, my tormentors apply them to create mind-fucking stunts and the rest of their harassment agenda. And the more pissed off the victim is, the more stronger is their natural etheric fields. And that is what do they do all the time, piss me off, intensely.

Anyhow, I don't expect this to convert anyone to this line of etheric physical energetics thinking, but hopefully it will be a source for objective investigation.

I did my one hour part time cleaning job at the car dealership, and my new eyeglasses were also of significant interest to the plethora of gangstalking acts enroute. And plenty of staff gangstalkings, "needing" to come by me, twice for the big cheese when I had the vacuum cleaner in hand.

And more customers and family of the staff were lingering; one woman sitting on the couch in the Service area had me lined up; the only time I looked at her in the ten minutes she was there, she was looking at me. Later, when in the Sales area, a negro woman customer (seemingly) had me lined up and was staring at me just as I came into view. How in the fuck does someone "decide" to stare at me when they don't know (cannot hear) I am coming? A third staring preceded me arriving at the car dealership; a dufous was driving and turning a corner in front of me and took at least three seconds to look at me for crissakes. I have never seen drivers looking the wrong way when turning a corner before, but it all began in 2002.

And the Teabag Dude (mentioned yesterday) gangstalker at the car dealership who has a rather mysterious affiliation (car salesman, then a downstairs scooter salesman, often on concrete sitting or leaning jobs), had me covering in four locations in the building, all the time on his cell phone, and for once, getting his own tea bags, albeit postioning himself at my next cleaning task site. The guy was like glue; he kept on arriving where I intended to go in the next minute or so. I thought it was my Alzheimers's act father who uniquely posessed this ability, but it is not true any more. And all the worse that he wore a red colored jacket.

So perhaps the excitement of getting my new glasses back will die down tomorrow, but I am not optomistic. The perps seem to be in a more hype state these days, creating noise at every notion that comes to mind, the ones they don't plant that is. Or if I accept a planted thought as legitimately relevant, appropriate and useful, noisestalking suddenly erupts at those moments, nearly always.

That covers another unexciting day contained in a Potemkin Village. And while typing that, the horrid motorcycle noise started up again, heard through my earmuffs somehow.