Berry Picking Miscellany

June 20 to July 07, 2009

This posting will take several weeks to write, as I have limited time before going to bed at 2100h, all to recover from a day in the sun berry picking. We are still doing strawberries, the worst of the lot as they require extensive crouching.

Notes
A crew of six native Indians, save one, arrived by stealth in the next strawberry patch through the trees. I did not know they were there until the afternoon break, when looking for more berry tray boxes, the typical pint size one sees in the grocery store. The one native Indian I did meet of this group was in the morning, and she went off to pick in this partially obscured field all on her own, with no apparent direction. Later, another five arrived in vehicles, with the copper colored one partially visible through the intervening trees between the two fields. The woman went off to get the forman to tell him about running out of boxes, but she never returned, except at break when she was crouched some 120' beyond me at the end of the rows, not even picking with the rest of her group, talking on her cell phone. Hpw she got there without me seeing her arrive is another one of those mystery questions. When going in on her break, she then passed by me still talking on her cell phone. It would seem that the localized electromagnetic field of a cell phone has become highly favored of late, as there has been so much more "cell phone stalking".

Another weird event was after a lunch break when a never-seen-before dude arrives in mid-field and starts talking to the Mexican berry picker in English, asking to borrow his bicycle. The Mexican clearly did not know what he was talking about, except to say, "si, si" and the dude went off to get the bicycle. I remarked out loud as to the aburdity of this stunt, though not calling it that, and the Caucasian woman picker next to me gave me an extended stare without saying anything. More absurdity heaped on.

Then a banana "showed up" in the corner of a brown cardboard flat box under the table at the field edge where all the pint trays are transferred to the "flats", the packing boxes. The crew lead drew this to my attention for whatever reason, going on to say it was one of the berry pickers leaving his food about. As regular readers will know, "banana stalking" is a common perp stunt for yellow color reference, (insice or outside of one's stomach), and this one came without a person walking around with it, or eating it, the usual banana presentation habits of the perps.

Other nonsense of the strange is empty cardboard boxes that once contained the pint containers "arriving" in mid strawberry field, for no seeming purpose. No one packs them out there for any purpose, so why are they arriving by themselves. My stock answer is that it is a localized brown color reference as the fuckers don't want to have brown dressed gangstalkers/berry pickers for whatever reason.

And what is with the hoodie dudes on the city bus? They have their hoods down when waiting at the bus stop and then put them up when on the bus which is warmer of course. Other variations are to have the dudes wearing their ballcaps backward, both at the same bus stop, and when on board they pretend they don't know each other. Because when they get off at the same bus stop, why they strike up a conversation and walk side by side.

There are at least three different negroes on the city bus trips to/from berry picking, and they keep changing up their bus stop when inbound. In one instance, the skinheaded negro was on the back of the bus ahead, which got there by dint of some magical fuckery as it wasn't on the street beforehand, and isn't scheduled. Somehow, another city bus arrived ahead of the one I was on (only one route) and then the negro made sure he sat in the rear so he could be seen by me from the bus behind. Why all this posing of the Unfavored demographic group members (negroes, males) between buses, as well an on the bus behind me, then later on the bus in front of me, is all about I have no fucking idea. I want to be left alone, and don't wish to have my predilections, likes and dislikes to be paraded all over town, and of wide knowledge among the gangstalkers, shils and operatives, all sick assholes. In many cases I had no idea I had an aversion, say, to big black vehicles that keep getting placed around me. Often they like to vary the scale and have the side of a double decker city bus all in black to simulate the effect they are looking for. It would seem the scale of the object at the time of traumatization association is important; as a 2 to 5 y.o. victim the scale of the traumatizations would be very different to that of an adult.

And I still get to have the Punjabis (E. Indians) farm workers in my proximity like last year, though at a different farm. When they don't know the language, as it seems, they join the dispossed and marginalized as farm laborers. One of the long bearded males seems particularly chosen to rag me, so to speak. I was showing a book (Richard Hoagland's Dark Mission), to one of the other berry pickers who is interested in the conspiracy angles on our history, and then this E. Indian in light blue dress comes over and steps into my personal space and puts out his hand and says "gimme". I asked just what he saw that warranted this particular rudeness and he babbled something in Punjabi. So in other words, he had no genuine interest in what was of interest, and nor did he even care to become interested, nor could he, as he didn't speak or read English. One doesn't need any translation, that was fucking rude by any cultural norms, and I let him know it. He didn't seem too fussed about the caustic response he got from me, so obviously this was a stunt to get me pissed off. Mission accomplished.

Another E. Indian WTF moment was two days ago when an E. Indian with a plywood box that packs 10 pint trays for the fruit, a "carrier", was packed full of dirt when I arrived in the box of the pickup, and he proceeded to walk around the vehicle with this bizarre concoction in hand. Later in the day I got muddied up from the rain that came on at noon time (for lunch) and stayed that way for two more hours of weed pulling. This was a field of ever-bearing strawberries that needed shade cloth to keep cool; the plastic shade cloth was draped over tensioned wires on posts and forced plenty of crawling and crouching to get underneath. A plastic (shade cloth) over plastic (poly plastic of the strawberry bed) day, repeating in the same location when pulling weeds on another wet day, without the shade cloth and supporting posts and wires then.

This same E. Indian has the unerring knack of arriving ahead of the bus, and to be some 120' ahead of me and walking in mid-road, downhill from a hill that obscures oncoming vehicles. A fuck of a stupid place to be in the road given the extensive traffic at 0700h, though very likely gangstalking traffic owing to the color configurations of the vehicles when in file. Another stunt of his was to pass his ass some inches from my face when scrambling in the box of the farm pickup. So some reason he had to make some kind of panicked rush to sit behind the cab, and hence the ass planting jerkaround. A similar stunt unfolded with two other E. Indians in the cab a week later. The same light blue E. Indian likes to sit exactly over where I was sitting when in the pickup box when I get out, and he doesn't. It is like Peter Sellers in the movie, The Party, the E. Indian that constantly fucks something up and escapes any association with the cascade of adverse events. Except it isn't funny, as I have this fucker on me more than most. And if I don't like the sight of turbans, (another one of those dislikes that I have come to "react" to), why is it that this is public knowledge and they are planted in front of me with far greater frequency than is normal?

Other bullshit that has been going down is on the city bus ride, aka, the city bus freakshow. It is amazing how many surface on the 0611h bus to the rural hinterland, but there is an few industrial parks there too. I get the E. Indians (sometimes, per above in-street arrivals by no determinable means), the hoodie dudes, the curly hair types, and a few other Unfavoreds, often packed around me. The perps seem to be taking more liberties in sliding the Unfavoreds behind me, as they do with the negroes on board the bus, Though on the last crowded mid-afternoon bus, they put the male skinhead negro at the rear exit, like a sentry. They even had a blonde woman nearby who eventually sat down, as some kind of auric goodness comparator it would seem. And when I got to sit down I had a sleeping but very garlic smelly Korean next to me, doing the wide legged sit, a familiar male gangstalker pose.

I haven't figured out why the inbound city bus is so crowded as it is; the office crowd seems to be keeping the same hours as me, being there for both outbound and inbound bus trips, with more than one fellow traveller, the ones that get on and off at the identical bus stops as I do.

Enough rambling on the farm laborer gangstalking scene and the strange behaviors that erupt around me, never minding the cultural exploiting stunts as well.