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.

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