A Vituperative Morning

1020h
vituperative: abusive censure [one definition, though it seems to be more of a verbal form which isn't the case. Though it would not be the first time my "dictionary" got jacked with].

I must of had at least 30 rage-ifications during the normal breakfast and get ready routine, shower, shave and dental hygeine. This might be a Canadian long weekend, but there is no rest for me. The biggest stunt was slapping a 2" x 0.5" gob of hemp and sesame seed butter to exactly span the counter distance from its jar and the plate that had the bread for which it was intended. The knife was in motion when the gob "fell off" so there is no way it could of landed exactly between the two objects without extra-conventional gravitic assistance. As nearly always, it it the part under the knife, or is otherwise obscured that "goes rogue" and creates the mess. And it was created by some strangely hyperactive hemp and sesame butter that "somehow" rolled off the knife by itself and thereby incurring a second round of nut butter retrieval that was slapped onto the counter in such a improbable manner.

The usual other provocations as well; pulling objects from my grasp, dithering my finger control, reversing the direction of my shaving routine, having me place the shampoo upside down (as if it were the conditioner bottle which is placed in that manner), crumb inundations around the bread, chocolate and lip contact region of my coffee mug and a few others which don't come to mind. I was exhausted before getting out of the bathroom, and this online activity offers some reprieve if the myriad forced typos are disregarded. Suffice to say, the perps can go beserk on a long weekend, and it matters not one whit as to holidays or other public designations.

1255h
A viturperative afternoon; a brutal rage-ification assault (20+x) while making and eating lunch, tortillas made from scratch, and then while cleaning the dishes, especially the frypan, which regular readers will know is a particular object of intense insanity for my tormentors. As always, noises from outside were added in, often the same ones that have been getting through my earmuffs for the previous two hours. The infernal Harley Davidson motorcycle noise, the gurgling hot rod noise, the ill-maintained mufflered vehicles, the buzzy Vespa at hight speed noise and bus noise and brake squealings. And not to forget the overhead pounding and thudding, somehow getting through 12" thick of concrete. It is a Sunday, and they have laid off the heavy duty equipment vehicles for the most part as well as the incessant back-up beeper noises. In the latter case they have substituted more seagull and small bird mewings and cheepings respectively. Neither of which is in earshot or perches nearby of course, as it seems they don't want the seagulls around except to cruise by in my left side peripherial vision, often timed to certain thoughts that fit the perps' objectives agenda. Fucking tiresome that I cannot allowed to be left alone; faked touches and whackings, finger motor control interference, "stun outs" stopping me from getting on with what I ordinarily would, as well as food flickings. In the latter case a new package of cheese had crumbs flying off of it before it was opened even, and then more when being opened, and more again when being grated. Crumbs will take extra-conventional gravitic trajectories from the cheese block to the floor, through the grater and to the floor, and sometimes they will bounce some off of me. No amount of pre-emptive methods will deter this insane perp obsession over cheese, especially when grated or sliced. No church bells most oddly,- perhaps they have mastered them and all they have to offering in the vibrational and sonic games that are so often arranged. But they did have the bottle bashing games going in the hallway, possibly as a substitute.

And some very strange dreams this morning before getting up, and then the assholes kept replaying them at breakfast until I screamed at them to stop, and they did. Now, only 15 minutes since lunch they are bringing them on again, even if they have nothing to do with food. One dream scene has a small child seemingly born sightless whose eyes materialize in their sockets as I am viewing it. Fucking absurd as well as insane to plant their bullshit imagery in someone else's mind.

Some relief by way of pix.

Taken 04-29-2009, 1744h. I suppose the two vehicles, one silver-grey and one mid-grey crossing paths isn't too odd in and of itself. But when there is a predominance of grey-scale colored vehicles on one's presence, there are no coincidences. The real purpose was to capture this bullshit reflection, and said beam that manages to find this very apartment and illuminate it later in the day. This apartment is E. facing, so the perps have to do stunts like this to get some later light cast in here, no matter the flimsy cover story.





















A zoom of the above reflection, and lo, if a red shirted Fuckwit isn't at the door above the putative beam source (faux reflection IMHO). Not to mention the satellite dish being nearby as well. I had an extensive series of this beam bullshit from three residential towers in last year's blog postings. Hopefully I can refrain from this habit this year.













Taken 04-29-2009, 1744h. It is copper color season again, and what better way to illustrate it by proximate placement to red colored vehicles, a time honored vehicle color combination that I see some 8x per week. The orange-copper color is particularly offensive to me, but then again, that is why it is placed so often it would seem. There is a yellow copper Volvo 850 wagon that looks very attractive, and about 2x per month they give me a dose of that Favored vehicle with the generally Unfavored color, to then groom me on the ugly orange-copper colors. Or, so it seems. Other interpretation suggestions are welcome, as are any informed comments.












A close up of the above; three black vehicles on either side of the one-way road, a mid-blue colored pickup truck, two silver greys and thre reds. Any more than one vehicle of a color is clustered (blacks, silver-greys and the reds). And the lone fugly orange-copper colored vehicle of course.














And regular readers will know that I have commented on copper color stalking from time to time, and the perps have duly informed me that it is important for their fuckery being sent down copper wires. And they are on a bit of a information streak, also suggesting the copper wire insulation color is important too, as are connection devices etc. And too, the copper studs on Levi jeans, as well as the copper pennies that arrive, sometimes embedded in the street asphalt.

This one is done for now, and for the day I suspect, as my mother is coming early so we can visit the First Feral Father in the old folks home, still into his first week. At least I don't have put up with his infernal gangstalking and posing in door openings, though I am sure the assholes will treat me to some reminders sometime soon.