Recovery Day

2145h
A busy day doing many sabotage recovery activities. More laundering after yesterday's mud fest, a new wallet after it somehow "self destructing" in the buttoned down pocket of my work pants and retrieving my hiking boots from my parent's place after the extant pair also "self destructed" (repaired 3x in last 5 years), obtaining more coins for daily bus riding. Other action was yoga, always a positive activity, and then an "inspection" by the rent subsidy people to make sure all was copesthetic. It was, and I might be able to get an increase in the subsidy to match the rent increases. But, the subsidy isn't availible any more, so I should not move as it will be deemed a new application. Another gotcha, but I am used to that, because it is the norm in this managed adversity called Life Rape, aka, nonconsensual human experimentation down to the level of even knowing the alphabet or numbers. The latter seems to be of greater interest, my mother going on about having enough $2 coins for the bus usage when in fact I had purchased a roll of $2 coins earlier in the day. Another "happened to mention it" stunt/scripted vignette, of increasing frequency of late. Two days ago it was the mention of "duct tape" at each job site by disparate parties that was the "happenchance" word of the day.

A short post as I will be getting myself off to bed early to accomodate the early start to the day. That is to say, I will be berry picking tomorrow, my "dig out from my line of credit" job for the summer. I got some extra sleep in this morning, but not enough for the errand load. Though to be fair, I actually did succeed in getting them all done. I even pre-ordered the Windows 7 Upgrade for $65CAD at Amazon.ca when London Drugs blew me off when I was there in person. He claimed it wasn't availible and won't be until October, and went on and on, and wouldn't look up my suggested source of the information on the web connected PC he was browsing. The "don't listen to me" act; been there thousands of times, and it should not be arranged any more if the perp asshole had any fucking sense of proportion as to the abuse they have pounded me with in the last seven years of overt fuckery, not to mention a prior 47 years of covert fuckery. Fucking insane I get to have their shills rail on when they are absolutely full of it, and know it. Thats LD for you, abetting to the level of being a first order quisling. If I had a vehicle I wouldn't shop there any more after tonight's jerkaround.

Onto getting prepared for tomorrow; I am cracking the hazelnuts and soaking them in water overnight which seems to add certain qualities of being more filling, assuming I am not getting jerked with.

At the berry picking job site a new "get close" fuckaround behavior has erupted; "ass stalking". That means the sicko shill/tgangstalker takes an opportunity to swing or plant their ass as close to my head as possible, usually in compromised seating arrangements, say in the pickup box. One Punjabi, and a native Indian couple did this in various guises, the latter two being particularly rude in sitting on the picnic table top when a bench seat was there, and planting their fucking sit bones 18" away from me, backs toward me. The woman was first, and the dude lined himself up behind her, the "hide the Unfavored Fuckwit" stunt. When said dude was duly "ready" (however the perps define that, he plants his fucking ass on the table top beside my lunch, now both of them backed up to me. I got up and went elsewhere. Fucking rude, and fucking sick that this was engineered by the Life Rapists as yet another pathetic arrangement for them to decode their brown color problem at my expense.

Yesterday, in the pouring rain, the berry picking was suspended, and we hustled the berries into the boxes and then into the cooler, even if soaking wet. I was working with a native Indian and a Mexican, and they both seemed to know what to do in the way of augmenting to arrange skin touches while hefting stacked boxes in and out of the pickup. Endless permutations of the perp's brown color games, a constant theme since the initial barrage of their "coming out" in the apartment attack in 04-15-2002 in Seattle. Then, the brown plasma flash would cause me to collapse to the ground. They pulled this off a week later when I was driving; a brown plasma flash bounced off my glasses and I was sliding down the seat, past the seatbelts until they zapped me out of it so I could recover. The vehicle beside me with four dudes at 0500h on the I-5 north of Seattle might have had something to do with it, but they weren't looking at me when they passed by. Enough troving past fuckery and the ongoing perp's brown color fuckery, and onto bed.