No Yoga, But New Eyeglasses Back

1535h
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.

2200h
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.