Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Digging Duties

The perps love me to be digging soil, and so it was duly arranged for 1.5 cubic yards to be dumped at my parent's place and for me to shovel it into the yellow wheelbarrow and into the 4'x8' raised box I built two weeks ago, only partially filled with soil from the property. And as well, they have governed me down to feel a little tired and ragged which I know is bullshit as I did this very activity once before this year at my in-town brother's place. And they even arranged for my mother to drive over one corner of the soil pile when exiting the house and taking my father off to his rest home.

On my end, the timing and preparation for me to head to my parent's by city bus was the usual fraught and gangstalked jerkaround. I was to get the 1006h bus but the perps caused me to have a shit just before that got messy and needed plunging and a shower to clean up. So.. 1030h then, and of course they were out in droves, and a five Fuckwits at the bus stop, none of whom looked like they really were authentic. I was gangstalked at the bus stop where they spread the Fuckwits out at each end and all three of the dudes were smoking. The bus was five minutes late again, which equals more gangstalking time than I planned on. The Brown Anorak dude was to the W. of me sucking on his cigarette and then flicked the spent butt onto the street. A minute later he needs a candy and exhibited his sudden wave of fastidiousness by putting the wrapper in the trash can, near me of course. A few minutes later he cruises in to view the bus schedule posted on a pole, and the instant I stepped back from this blatant incursion into my social distance a noise went off. Here the fucker is, waiting for a specific bus to catch and needs to look at the schedule? This act was only one step removed from the Fuckwits who come to look at the posted schedule and then wander off. Anyhow, with my Fuckwits ahead and behind me and lo, if the Brown Anorak isn't two seats away, and facing me in the rear facing seat I was coralled into. Not only did the anorak color suck, but this baby faced male with white-grey curly hair made sure I looked out the window for the entire trip. Other Fuckwit gangstalkers at the bus stop were all around me, and this pattern repeated itself on the way back. And with the same seating orientation, facing back to look at a fugly Unfavored unless I looked out the window, which is what I did again.

The worst of today's activities was getting jerked around in the sudden rainstorm that got pulled on me. I had been barrowing soil for some 20 minutes with my mother's vest on when a downpour started that required rain gear. And with the dayglo orange rain gear still at my parent's place I thought I was ready for the elements. But no, the hood kept slipping down in front of my vision, and finally I did without it, and that then opened up my glasses to be splattered with rain and thereby serve as cover story for more vision fucking games. The rain went on for 30 minutes or so, and let up finally. In the process I also changed gloves as the yellow leather ones were getting wet, and I have a pair of synthetic material blue colored ones. I also did some weed whacking and was using the goggles and that made for more yet vision fogging games. The next three hours was spent in the wind and it finally abated to have some calm and sunny weather, about the time my mother came back around 1400h. It was all rather odd that she came back so late, and was gone for some four hours, even if it was a one time event of delivering the dementia patient to his first full time care facility. Which begs the question as to why the perps need me to be dressed up in dayglo clothing for a portion of the day, and then having it outside to dry. As always, there was plenty of aircraft, neighbor lawnmower, and passing vehicle noise, all amped up for today's soil lugging activity.

Other bullshit action at my parent's place was applied to get me to vocalize with the same long standing vocabulary ther by myself. Faux causal extra-conventional gravitic jerkarounds were: whacking my hand as if it contacted the gatepost as I went by when it was 6" away, jabbing me in the nuts as I turned a corner with the soil laden wheelbarrow, dumping soil onto places I hadn't placed it, having me trip on my own feet, having me "forget" to get a needed item and requiring extra retracing of my steps, pulling the extension cord out of the weed whacker while it was operating, tangling my feet up with the extension cord, and a few others that don't come to mind. All for me to recite the long running tired rants at the assholes under my breath or even louder on occasion.

And before that, they also cranked me up at breakfast time with more jerkarounds and extra noise; the peanut butter just "falling" off the knife trick again, flicking coffee grounds on the stove top, having coffee gurgle out from the Bodum coffee maker that was gently pressed, crumb inundation games, and a few others.

I did the part time cleaning job at the car dealership tonight; as it was a provincial election day here, so they closed up early. But that didn't stop three of the seeming Sales dudes from hanging around me when firing up the vacuum cleaner, and then some of them going outside as the door was wide open. This is the first night I have been directed to do the vacuum cleaning on the main Sales floor before they have closed. Normally I do the upstairs Admin section before as the staff have all gone home, which makes more sense. I had finished the Sales area vacuuming and went upstairs and had laid out the vacuum cleaner extension cord in the hallway and had not yet started it when a blonde woman exited the Admin offices and turns around and gives me this stare for no reason. This is at least the third time I have encountered her in the hallway or front entrance and she does the same thing; this cool icy look for no reason. I suppose she is assigned Unfavored behavior (staring, antisocial) as a Favored (attractive blonde woman) demographic group member. Such is the scripted bullshit show.

I am getting the reduced font fucking games now; when I come back to a browser tab such as this, the font is slightly reduced, and then they put it back, usually ensuring that I "don't notice", read, mind-fuck jerkaround. And something the perps reminded me of to blog about was today's gratuitious jerkaround du jour. Before leaving this morning, I figured that I would be taking the city bus back later in the afternoon and took two quarters with me as bus fare is $2.25 each way, and I had plenty of $1 and $2 coins. So..., when I looked in my pocket later at the homebound bus stop, why no quarters. I had to pay $3 for the fucking bus fare because some asshole decided to jerk me around for an extra 75 cents plus the missing 25 cents.

Which is similar to yesterday's gratuitous jerkaround; my tool box of drill bits and a quality 1/2" drill has been stored at my parent's place for the past five years, as I can get by with my portable one I have at this apartment, the little that I need one. Last year when building the raised gardening box at my parent's place I "forgot" that my drill was in the crawlspace and borrowed my in-town brother's drill, a red bodied one. It was even better than mine and so I asked if I could re-borrow it again and he was cool with that. At some point in preparing to build the raised garden box three weeks ago I "happened" to be in the crawlspace and looked in the drill box and lifted the to tray and saw my drill, and left it there untouched as my in-town brother's was at hand and better at slow drilling larger diameter holes in the landscaping ties for the 6" spikes. No big deal. Yesterday, I was about to reassemble the steel closet shelving and needed to drill extra holes to mount a new stanchion (vertical bracket) that my mother insisted was needed as the shelves sagged. I get my drill box up from the crawlspace, and had planned the job around using it, and open the box up and no drill. Gone, and the assholes made sure I knew it was there some three weeks ago. I ended up telling my mother about it who put on a big deal over how it could of gone missing and perhaps the painters stole it. I doubted that they did as it was in such an obscure location that they would of not encountered. All the while this tale seemed vaguely familiar but I was not allowed to recall why. After 30 minutes of fussing over it, as in the "women doth protest too much", my mother finally gave up yacking about it and going through various possible scenarios. So it would seem that the entire exercise, apart from jerking me around and have me drill 1/2" holes in plaster by hand, needing leather gloves to handle the sharp drill bit edges, was to have my mother go on about this fuckover stunt.

Later in the day when back at my place I was allowed access to my recall of a similar stunt: I had left a car stereo amplifier at my parent's place, and when it came time to install it ready to give the vehicle to my daughter, the amplifier was gone. And too, there had been some tradesmen in the house a week before, but again, it was unlikely that they would of taken it as it was under a pile of other junk that obscured it. Again, my mother was in on discussing how the amplifier could of gone missing. (She had even seen it there). Some two years later, the amplifier "showed up" when unpacking some boxes when moving into this place, a year after the amplifier went missing. And yet the boxes the amplifier "arrived in" were packed over three years earlier, and left untouched. So..., the gratuitious jerkaround game of stealing known items seems to be all about creating angst and hashing over as to how something went missing, and then resupplying the item at a later date in the guise of "moving", a much storied event/circumstance where other items have either gone missing or arrived. And I have no idea as to why the assholes put on this game and why they go to such lengths to plan this out years in advance, by way of having the stored item "disappear" from my parent's place and not mine. Go figure, and if you concur that the perps are fucking insane at least sometimes, then you must be an authentic TI.

That should cover today, and hopefully I won't have any more bizarre planted dreams like last night; a school of fish on dry land acted in unison as if they were in water. Again, I never had such bullshit dreams until the perps declared themselves to be overt abusers and sickos in 04-2002.


Anonymous said...

I did experience the same thing back in February, an attractive blonde, with her back parallel to the wall, had her head turned around with a sort of unfriendly snarl. She was staring and glaring with her mouth open in a most unfriendly manner. Maybe it was to synchronize tactics among TI's for benchmarking purposes, as you say. I had a reaction to this stare that her boyfriend didn't like very much. It wasn't an outburst or anything, just a controlled reaction that let her know I wasn't found of her staring act.

And yes, perps are quite the sick lot, and the gangstalkers they employ are too. Maybe the gangstalkers are chosen based on their antisocial (as in psychopathic) qualities? Most of them seem like chronic abusers, or have a history of abuse, I noticed. Perps love to employ these types, as they know they will derive pleasure from carrying out their torture.

AJH said...

Answer to: I did experience the same thing...

No question that the perps have sick minded methods, though I am uncertain as to their individual personalities. If some of my former swim club and work colleagues are perp members as they seem to be (seen in action without disguise, often disappear for a year and then come back), it would seem that they are regular folk, employed by an insane, but highly competent (mostly, in my experience), agency. One can't take the panalopy of vagrants and fuckwits at face value of course as there is a well defined script for each of them, especially if regular loiterers. But of course during rage games when my vocabulary becomes unnaturally limited I demonize them as idiots and fuck-ups. There does seem to be some long-ago fuckups that they are attempting to ameliorate in hounding me; ingested plastics pollutants and traumatizations inflicted at ages 3 to 5 that must be impeding their progress, hence the emulation of traumatization vignettes, the daily gangstalker freakshow. Thanks for the comments.