Tuesday, July 21, 2009

Resume Tapping and Rumbling

These are the two predominant noise games in progress as I write this; the percussive sound of construction (with hammers, no air nailers) from no apparent source in the vicinity, and the equally improbable rumbling noise from overhead, as if a 10 ton safe with squeaky wheels was being shifted back and forth, and it has the heft to cause the 12" floor/ceiling to shake as well. That is the nature of the harassment of late, more improbable activities and combinations thereof.

My big outing earlier was to get my leather belt augmented with two more holes as it seems my pants are falling down easier. I have not yet determined if it is due to actual loss of girth or some belt stretching games. And when one's entire cognitive and recall aparatus is highjacked near permanently, one cannot be sure of anything anymore.

Then onto pay my parking fine, a $30 one I was fucked with yesterday, and then onto the opticians to get more lens cleaning solution, in anticipation of returning to my manual labor of last year, daffodil bulb picking. Just when I thought the daffodil farm was with me as they never answered my resume submissions, they are default choice out of necessity to get some cash reserves to pay for my possible PC upgrades in the fall and then the inevitable income tax that seems to accrue faster than it is deducted, my usual year end fate of being hit for some $500 or so.

Along the route of my errands I passed many strange Fuckwits and Weirds, but at the penultimate intersection was a strange dude in a black and red track outfit leaning on the adjacent pole. I go the opticians to see the ever delectable blonde woman, who is also classily dressed in predominantly black with some red splashes in the fabric. Once done there, onto the street again back to my place, and at the next intersection, why the black and red dressed dude "happens" to be there, essentially tailing me at the prior and post intersections to the optician visitation. I suppose the perps are working on why such colors are OK on a blonde woman but are a decided threat (weirdness detection) on some loafing Fuckwit. Not my problem as to who I like and don't, so why is it the biggest chase scene in this city's history, possibly any city? Never mind the mind fuck games and the rest of the abuse.

As always, there is no answer but more frantic tapping as mentioned above. The tapping noise is decidedly in sync with the overhead rumbling/squeaking and any unbidden thoughts that seem to be still uncontrolled. The assholes are still hounding me over my attention shifting, still a unfucked brainstem area neural process that they cannot yet totally mess with. Lucky me, as if luck were in fact a coincidence, something I have never had the pleasure of, living in this controlled Potemkin Village bubble.

Another red meat dinner, and more male Fuckwits at the car dealership cleaning job crawling up my asshole, the "new improved" gangstalking. One was behind me when cleaning th door glass to Service as the punch card clock was adjacent, then three mechanics put on a show at a vehicle, crimping access to the garbage room. They later started up the air wrench noise for over 15 minutes, all the more absurd given that it was only one vehicle they were working on, and the wheels didn't seem to have anything to do with the engine area they were huddled over. And just before cleaning the mechanic's washroom, why they were all over it. Then onto cleaning the water cooler garbage and one fucker was standing over me while I attended to that, and another, the tubby Sales Dude was 5' away in the hallway where the keyboard is, and then after placing my tote near the phone, why, another mechanic "happened" to be on the phone and standing over it before I could retrieve it.

On the way to the car dealership cleaning job, when turning the corner for a short block (90 degree turn), the assholes arranged a police vehicle to be parked on the wrong side of the road, emergency lights flashing. This isn't the first time police vehicles have been used to plant vehicles in odd juxtapositions, usually facing the wrong direction, sometimes on a one way street. A policewoman was standing over a baby in a car seat that was placed on the ground, and talking to a male vagrant act. I couldn't figure this one out at all, except it was a grand excuse to put a baby into the gangstalking mix and keeping it in one place as opposed to strollers and backpacks. Another WTF moment. Then when passing the same location on the way back after the cleaning job, they placed a left-hand drive vehicle opposite the location of the reverse placed police vehicle of my outbound journey leg.

At the car dealership Service garage where there are five sevice bays, they packed in some 12 vehicles in an obstacle course to constrict egress from there to the garbage room, where I make at least six return trips in the course of an hour. The one 2' wide location where I could get through was between a white and red vehicle, and lo, if they didn't have various configurations of soil covering the narrow constriction. They had a circle of soil, and then some scuffings, presumably for some kind of soil-victim (me) interaction they were looking for. This is at least the 10th time they have put on soil splatter for me to walk by in the Service Garage, but the first time they have mandated it by way of soiling a single constricted access route between arranged vehicles. The big question is where is the soil from? It looks to be from elsewhere, but there are many microsites in this city where it could of come from. Though it doesn't look like it came from last year's daffodil bulb digging activity. Regular readers will know there has never been a location where I have lived or worked where the perps have not dug up the soil, due to building, renovations, septic field rebuilds etc. For example, in Seattle, 2000 to 2002, they put up an office tower opposite my work of some 120' deep foundation, and a residential tower next to my apartment, some 40' deep before building up. I cannot figure out why they don't cooperate and have me go down their dug holes and take a piss, touch the soil or whatever suits their fantasies of their experimentation expectations. The degree of expending 1000x the effort to remain covertly abusive over 1x the effort with cooperation (if they pay me enough, which includes cracking the heads of major players and quislings), is as apalling as it is insane. I don't get it.

A zone-out troving through audiophile nirvana; I am not allowed to even listen to music as much as I ordinarily do. Never mind all the fancy stereo listening gear that one can find online. Another time perhaps.


Anonymous said...

I get lots of conversation when I'm out anywhere. I especially loathe the fake/forced laughter (that always have that "scripted" sound to it) that they can't get enough of. I get variations on the (un)favored. For example, when entering a place, I'll encounter favored. When exiting, I'm greeted by unfavored, who just happen to be opening the door to enter as I'm passing through the same doors. Sometimes they may reverse the process.

I suppose the removal of any social support/friendship is supposed to help shrink our Amygdala, which can further aid their cause somehow. Also, they probably are looking at asymmetry between the left and right Amygdala, and how the various tactics they employ can help restore symmetry.

Anonymous said...

I just got two energy-sapping events, like you described. They seemed to be a response by the perps when I was thinking about their other debilitating games with gangstalkers, to further debilitate me, I presume. It feels like some energy is being taken from my head, or more specifically, it feels like a negative-energy ray being applied to my head/brain.

Anonymous said...

Also, you have to wonder how so many "hot babes", of the classy, working-class variety get into a Wal-Mart, on a Thursday evening, so late at night. This was close to 11PM at night. It defies logic, but not when you consider it's part of the perps' games. They had this one babe, a look-alike of this one babe I was attracted to in 1993, with her pants rolled up. Again, one has to wonder how she would wind up in a Wal-Mart at a completely bizarre time (late at night). And one look-alike of my dad, with a pony tail (he was none). And of course, they were stacked with the usual freakshow types. It's funny, how both favored and the unfavored both look kinda "scared" or like they wish they could be doing something else besides playing a scripted role in the perp's games.

AJH said...

Answer to: Also, you have to wonder how so many "hot babes"...

They like to present the incongrous often; I had a blonde woman her blonde boy playing along a parapet of a nearby shopping center, and it was dark then, about 1930h. Here we have someone who would be vitally concerned about their security and that of their child's, putzing around in a downtown iffy area all for me to see and the perps to evaluate this WTF moment. Also, an new Unfavored demographic group might be boys, as young as three or so, possibly because I was involved in the Indian Lake Project (see Consolidated Link List) in the late 1950's.

Anonymous said...

I'm amazed at the lengths they go to. I was getting harassed late last night; I dialed 911 on my cell. I reported the high school kids harassing me (probably recent graduates), and as I was describing what was going on, my call was dropped dead. I find it odd that when I was talking to the dispatcher from a different county, my call was good for 1 minute. When I was transferred to my present county's dispatcher, all was good until I was in the middle of describing the harassment. it seems like the dispatcher recognized it was a gangstalking crime, and simply cut me off. I know a lot of police departments will back off from going after harassers if they recognize you are a target.

AJH said...

Answer to: I'm amazed at the lengths they go to...

I try not to be amazed at perps treachery as it seems they will always go one lower than you last experienced. It is difficult to say for sure who cut off your 911 calls; the call center or an overseeing perp who can digitally interfere with the cell phone signal. Many other perps report that organized stalking gets immediately disregarded; it isn't happening or the complainant has a "problem". A written complaint might be the best. Here in Canada I am told one can complain of stalking and then fill in the box to indicate that it alleged to be multiple parties. This way, organized stalking gets reported here (I am told). Perhaps your local police has a complaint form to fill out that can similarly accomodate the true reality.

Anonymous said...

It seems like it was a perp who digitally interfered with my signal. It doesn't seem likely to me that the dispatcher hung up on me. If anything, the dispatcher who "recognizes" that the harassment is gangstalking-related will say something like "this doesn't sound like harassment to me, sir". I've had one incident of that. Like you said, keeping a written log along with recordings of perps screaming at me on the street as well as photos will be the best option. That way, the gangstalking itself is getting documented and exposed.

It also seems like there was a perp "listening in" on my conversation, and when he recognized it was some fuckwit following orders from the perps, cut my call off.