Resume Tapping and Rumbling

1415h
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.

2010h
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.

2220h
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.