Saturday, August 29, 2009

A Two Day Weekend

A whole two day weekend, and a slack near-shut-in day today. I was allowed out to do laundry, a special load of socks and towels with one pair of jeans. In the towel camp, they must be laundered separately as the assholes assign them linting behavior (in the washing machine no less), same as the last towel set. The socks have also been assigned new linting behavior, but only on my stretch cordura pants that I usually wear on the daffodil bulb sorting job.

There has been plenty of arranged emergencies along my commute route over the past two weeks; a teetering vehicle on a concrete barrier in mid-highway, a fire next door at the residential tower, a smack up at the five-way busiest intersection in town, an extremely loud ambulance, and at least a few others to provide a cover story for lining me up to see flashing lights of various colors, red, blue and white. Said commute is on a double decker bus, as they are deployed in this town. And too, my city bus freakshow has been getting absurd, almost caricature like; three negro males as the only passengers on the lower bus floor, only three minutes into the bus' route. Given their relative paucity in this town, it is fucking absurd. Perhaps the assholes are building negro karma; first a cafe-au-lait negro hiding in the back corner, then a very strange one with a caucasian-like face but all black, and then the third one who only lasted one bus stop before he got off He could of walked the route faster than taking the bus. But it seems that cover stories don't matter as much anymore.

There have been some weirding out at the daffodil farm; the forklift driver put on the buddy talk one day, and the next day he is on my ass about getting certain things done after he spent 20 minutes in the forklift doing nothing, but gangstalking me some 20' away. I don't report to him, so what was the deal. He is the same guy that lays on that I am responsible for the loading area, and not just the hopper, and then is the same dude who makes visits to the full adjacent daffodil bulb skin catch bins to reshuffle them, attempting to reduce the pile of daffodil bulb skins. Like, WTF; here is the person who should be driving the forklift to take the full bins away, and all he is doing is some extra busy work of no essential value. I am often asking him to remove the bins, and then he goes on that he is too busy. Needless to say, this scripted adversity is more silly shit; regular people behaving strangely around me.

And my attempt to score a better seasonal job paying one third more came to naught; it was at a commercial tree nursery, and they somehow didn't deem that knowledge of tree species and all else relating to a forestry degree didn't matter. And I have a recent reference that I supplied, and still no response. Another one of those assigned "flail away" stunts, the job application of absolutely no chance as we have the victim scripted for elsewhere, which includes keeping him poor. I have done online job applications for a number of other places in town that indicated a need for reasonably intelligent laborer personnel, and get zero feedback. One was a forest species cloning lab that needed four laborers, and again, the forestry degree amounted to squat. Life in the Potemkin Bubble continues as before. Though I think the FUD model (Fear, Uncertainly and Doubt) should also include futility as part of the "vague vortex" I am kept in. Or perhaps I should start a new acronym for the more abusive trials; futility, impairment and obstruction, FIO.

The daffodil bulb sorting work is going to go another week I learned late yesterday, a Friday. This too is part of the FUD; ensure the victim has the least possible advance word as to next week's work prospects. All to screw me out of getting a monthly bus pass perhaps, and as a substitute, getting the fuschia day-glo colored bus tickets instead, not to mention gouging me an extra $25 for the month. There are plenty of day-glo dressed Fuckwits/gangstalkers, and I suppose they just cannot get enough of these particular colors that have constructive interference properties, which makes them day-glo, as opposed to not. See the J. K. Harms treatise on this, (Color, The Wave Theory Of Matter And Particle Spin) and explore his cannon of ponderings of the physical world. Much of what he suggests seems to "happen" in my proximity, particularly the color combinations; red and green & yellow and blue. And too, providing a scientific connection between color and gravity, as he posits both are long-radiation matter waves.

I am getting screwed over in reading his web page on my 21" monitor as the perps are dithering my focus on each side, rendering part of the text momentarily unreadable. Back to the vision fucking games it seems, this time by increments instead of one sudden out-of-focus blob in one eye. Or even alternating the focus between eyes, usually at subsecond levels.

Some more application form filling tonight, keeping me from blathering in this here blog, perhaps a good thing. The application is part of the training grant grovelling I am to do, and pull together for Sept. 03 next week. Should I pull off this grant, I will be reverting back to my Oracle It training, seven interim years at my tormentor's imposition. Which raises the question as to what is in it for them? They being over my shoulder and present for every thought, if not supplying it in the context of my own knowledge base. It is a very strange existence to be keeping two entities separate, their planted thoughts, and those of my own.

Brief as it is, this one is done for today.

Sunday, August 23, 2009

Very Busy; An I'm-Still-Here Posting

I worked six days last week, including yesterday, a Saturday. It is the daffodil bulb picking, and conveyor line sorting season, and I even seem to be wanted to run the feeding of the hopper, the upstream task that allows up to nine others to examine the bulbs when coming down the conveyor. This is important to get rid of the rotten ones that were either picked inadvertently in the field or became rotten in the six weeks of storage before the conveyor line examination. The long time posessive dude who normally works on the hopper feeding is totally miffed, as the foreman prefers that I run the hopper because I do it so consistently, rather than the conveyor line backups the other dude creates.

It doesn't take much to figure out that he was inattentive or else jerking around, as loading the hopper with care is all it takes. The bulbs need to be distributed just right on the belt at the hopper, and once done, there are no backups on the conveyor line. Anyhow, I think the perps find it more interesting that I am in the sunlight for the entire time while on this job, as the prior conveyor line work was entirely in the shade. (The hopper is outside, and feeds to a conveyor that passes through a punch-out in the wall of the building.) And the tan-through shirts are getting plenty of wearing of late, and the perps have a total obsession over sunlight skin exposure, and I suppose wearing a mid blue or a sage green shirt is a big deal for the assholes who script me to my every breath. The latter shirt got "taken out" yesterday as they put on an oil blotch on the front of it that did not clean up after laundering. So... a few days before I get some de-greasing spot remover and get this shirt re-laundered.

It is interesting to note the perp's interest in sage green of late. Two Fuckwits wearing sage green, one brighter than the other, arrived together and sat one on front of the other immediately in front of me on the city bus two days ago. Two seats ahead of me was a woman in the darker sage green, and immediately in front of me was a dude in a lighter sage green. After some five minutes of bus travel time, the woman puts on a mid-grey hoodie jacket, seemingly to differentiate her sage green color from his sage green clothing. There was absolutely no reason for anyone to put on a hoodie when on the bus in summertime. This was on the top deck of a double decker bus, and it seems the Fuckwit pair knew where to find me, arriving one after the other as seeming passengers at the same bus stop. The next day, I wore my sage green tan-through shirt to work and it got mysteriously spotted with grease when there was none around.I am sure there are more sage green follies to follow, especially once I get the grease spot out of the shirt.

Thats all the time there is; I am also busy on training grant applications so I won't be blogging much this week.

Adendum; I keep getting some kind of cryptic symbology in the comments which I delete as I cannot decipher what this is. I don't if it is legit or spoofed, but it is pointless to post comments that cannot be read by this English-only speaking author.

Adendum; more cryptic symbology in the comments, with one Chinese character in the middle of the long string. I have no idea how to decode or translate it, but if in English, and if relevant, I will publish the comments. Or, is just an auto-spambot at work?

Monday, August 17, 2009

WTF; Clued Out and On the Job

A short post because I got carried away by answering comments.

I did the daffodil farm work today, but had a major WTF stunt pulled on me. We have been doing sorting of the daffodil bulbs on the conveyor, getting rid of the rotting ones as they pass by on a conveyor. Eight workers pick the rotten bulbs out after groping as many as one can as they go by, and another is on feeding the hopper, and another on stacking the final boxes, coming off a weight scale feeder. Last week the foreman told me that we were going to continue bulb sorting "until it was done". Fine, so after lunch I return to the sorting line and no one is there. Two of the other bulb sorting personnel pass by and don't say anything, the forklift operator doesn't say anything at first, and when I am enroute to the outdoor lunch table to find the foreman, he is headed out into the field with some other personnel. I join them, and find out that I have been re-allocated to doing field work with five others, resuming the work that was stopped two weeks ago. So in other words, all of the personnel of the daffodil bulb sorting knew what their afternoon re-assignment was, and no one told me. And further more, they made sure that at least visited the bulb sorting conveyor all by myself, without anyone else there. The two that passed by could of told me but didn't and even the forklift operator didn't tell me at first. Another major WTF; everyone but me was informed. That takes planning and coordination.

Friday, August 14, 2009

Relenting on the Jerkarounds

Two interconnected jerkarounds of this week have both been ameliorated today, once I got back from the daffodil bulb sorting job today. The letter of refusal to give me a training grant from the Provincial government was sent signed this time, and toned down the rather libellous comments about my "health care management". And then the employment counsellor of the Federal government who I have dealt with at length earlier this year, will remain my counsellor. She indicated earlier this week I would have to get a new counsellor as I was "coming back" (cap in hand) for a training grant. Starting up with a new counsellor would take an inordinant amount of time, and possibly creating more delays. The grant grovelling is now on the front burner as it may come to fruition in the next month or so. All that angst expended over that letter, and the fucker knew he would be sending a toned down version afterward, because he "forgot" to sign the original letter. More insane and juvenile games to crank up my angst for no reason except abusive licence.

A total demotivated wipe-out over blog posting yesterday; I had the entire day to do so, and somehow it didn't happen. Today, the cut-off will be 1300h, as my mother will come to pick me up to go to the old folks home to visit my father, spring him out for a home visit, and take him back again. I am not sure how this will transpire in the winter, as we all convene outside in the garden for tea and cookies. Typically I will attend to watering the compost, my little project under the plastic that so fascinates the perps.

I went to the supermarket earlier, and my consort was ready for me by placing an obeser woman in red in the doorway for me to walk past. Then the Green Man started dogging me while on his cell phone; he dressed in a top that is the same bright green as the paper fiber pint boxes that contain fruit, blueberries in this case. (And the same green pint boxes that I used while berry picking in July). I didn't think much of the green color until I got to the produce section and located the blueberries, for the first time in a plastic open box. And lo, if the Green Mand didn't "show up" some 10' away, still on his cell phone while I was messing with the plastic bags to wrap the box of blueberies in. So it would seem that the asshole was doing green color reference duty at various locations in the store, and in particular where the same green colored paper fiber boxes had been to contain blueberries, that is, until today.

Then three more dudes descended in serial procession, one hanging over then blueberries while I waited after muscling a plastic bag off the oversized spool of them. Then it was my turn, then another dude loitered nearby, and finally a bend-over dude did his ass-in-the-air act only 2' from me, and so it was time to bolt for the checkout.

But it wasn't an ordinary event either; a young and attractive cashier-in-training was the only cashier at the checkout before I put my groceries on the conveyor belt, and once finished I looked up and some hag had replaced her, the young woman relegated to packing the groceries. This dumbshit stunt, the bait-and-switch with cashiers is new; often they will have one switch out the other, often female to male, while I am observing as the paying customer, but a unbeknownst switcheroo while I wasn't looking is most unusual. Stupid and stupider is the theme of late.

One such event was a breakfast when the coffee pot exploded with a teleported quarter cup of coffee eruption on the side of the french press coffee carafe. I was gently pressing the knob of the coffee plunger down, having long learned to do so to limit the excuses for similar exploitations, when a burst of coffee at the side of the vessel came on and ran down the vertical side of the pot. I have experienced past fuckery over making coffee with a french press, and normally they mind-fuck me to "forget" to be cautious about slowly depressing the knob that is connected to the stainless steel filter, and the coffee erupts out of the spout somehow getting through the vertical slots of the lid. There is some logic to all this; a seeming causal event and screwing me into being careless. But to have a quarter cup or so of coffee somehow erupt from no opening, 90 degrees offset from the spout, and while I was being duly cautious, has upped the ante as far as perp Fuckover stunts go.

Some pictures to fill this one up.

Taken 07-08-2009, 1811h. Three silver-grey vehicles and one deep green colored one among them in-file. One of the silver-grey vehicles is behind the tree foliage, always a favorite screen for perp color games.

Taken 07-08-2009, 1811h. And plenty of silver-grey vehicle activity to accompany the above parked configuration; one silver-grey vehicle turning the corner, and one parked around the corner. The other parked vehicles on the side street at the left are likely white colored, a common color association of the perps if you are new to this blog and aren't a TI.

Taken 07-23-2009, 1131h 28sec.Camper season is all year round, but this one is in season. A silver-grey, white and light metallic blue color configuration in the center, with a bright blue taxi right most, a deep green leftmost, and a black vehicle parked below, seen through the balcony railing at the right.

Taken 07-23-2009, 1131h 33sec. More mid-blue, a vehicle passing behind the tree foliage at the center. More of the parked vehicles in the foreground are revealed; a mid-blue parked Mini convertible is parked below as well as two silver-grey vehicles.

Taken 07-23-2009, 1131h 40sec. A white vehicle is passing behind the tree foliage at the center, with the above mid-blue exiting the frame at the right, also behind tree foliage.

Taken 07-16-2009, 1938h. I may have posted this one before, but the strange similarity of the pedestrian's placement and stride to the second photo above (07-23-2009, 1131h 40sec) was too good to pass up.

This one is done, onto daffodil bulb picking tomorrow.

Thursday, August 13, 2009

Puffed Up Right Hand

A whole four days of plucking daffocil bulbs off a conveyor line, and suddenly my right hand gets puffed up as if it is work related. I did this same job last year and had no such problem. But as the harassment is getting much more interventionist, I suspect this is to take me off the job for a few days. Just like the berry picking in July; all I wanted was to work the summer but some asshole decided that I couldn't, and scripted the sleeping/tiredness "problem" which ultimately fucked me out of having a summertime income source. That is, until last week when I started the daffodil bulb picking like last year, and now the assholes want to take me out again. I am so fed up and pissed with the impositions on my employment, my ability to earn income, by some insane sick assholes who have this town bought up and don't have the gumption to personally tell me why I am being kept in Potemkin bubble of scripted lies, not to mention a densified electromagnetic field over 2,000 Gauss. (Measured and photo of it in the pictures some two months ago).

The evening tea break is over, which included chocolate yet again. On the brown subject, I see the assholes are covering me with more negroes; one on the daffodil bulb conveyor line keeps his hoodie up most of the time, a mid-grey tone, and hides his face as much as possible. All the while, hanging around me worse than a fart in a sleeping bag. This dedicated bulb grading was for the experienced bulb picking crew, and he started for the first time last week.

Another staff negro is also parading around the warehouse, seemingly involved in the vegetable growing operation, but coing his cameos in the half light of the builiding while I am outside, or vise versa. Negroes in the deep shade seems to be the angle the perps are playing of late. Then another one on the inbound bus tonight; he in a yellow-gold shirt and jeans, with patches of the jeans sprayed the same color for crissakes. Then a final negro woman only a block from my house and dressed for the office. All part of the perp's brown color problem it would seem, as they are also adding more E. Indians day by day I notice. They just start "showing up" at the worksite, having not being seen there for the first few days, when there was a regular crew of eight or so every farm day last year. And also, the incremental addition is adding them as bus passengers, the pink turban act is still going strong. Pink on males' clothing in my take on things, likely via childhood traumatization associations, is absurd and the perps know this, and keep pimping it for me to see. Their gangstalkers are even walking around in shirts for the office no less, dispensing with jackets in the rain for crissakes.

Other nonsense in the script is to demonstrate love interests of some of passengers/gangstalkers; one attractive blonde woman has her beau (for the gangstalking duration) who "happens" to be commuting with her. The perps' interest in presenting hand holding, kissing and embracing couples in public has increased of late. This bullshit suddenly increased two months ago, and now they are taking on board the bus for me to see in the next row, 4' away. Never mind the plausibility of course, just look where we want you to.

More pictures; a black and white show it seems. I don't know how they make their decisions on greyscale colors or other, but this is the full contrast deal. Taken 07-16-2009, 1938h 25sec. Cute, sort of, and then running the white vehicle on the right past this parked configuration.

Taken 07-16-2009, 1938h 40sec. Nothing too new in this later picture; just the paper bearing big arm fling walk of the Fuckwit in the foreground. I have no idea why they do this big arm fling; to expose their arm pits more, create more energetic interaction, or emulate military behavior from childhood traumatizations. The latter being speculative, based on perp supplied information, the least trusted source possible after my mother, though they have been highly consistent on these themes.

Taken 07-28-2009, 0544h. A dump truck idling while parked outside came to "join me" for breakfast, contributing its noise for some 10 minutes. There is nothing open around here at this time, so what was this one-of visitor doing here?

Taken 07-28-2009, 0954h 30sec. As if I didn't get enough of the idling diesel engine noise, why the City shows up and does the same four hours later. This is more of a set piece with the aggregation of white colored vehicles; two are parked on the right side, the one partially obscured in the foreground (making the noise), and I see they put on a semi trailer and tractor unit on the street on the left. A mid-grey colored sedan is stopped at the light, filling in more greyscale in all likelihood.

07-28-2009, 0954h 39sec. A camera zoom -in of the same scene, nothing too revelatory here, save the vehicle color coordination.

Minor hilarity last night; I needed to fax a letter to two different places, and wanted a half sheet of paper for the header page. I reached into the printer feed tray, and lo, if there wasn't a half page cut for me! I did not cut the page myself, as it is something I rarely do, and would of recalled cutting a page in half. Besides, it is tricky to print on a half sheet, and I have never tried it, and don't plan to for the perp Fuckover action that it would likely become.

Time to post this one, and call it done.

I got a comment that I deleted as it wasn't readable; it was small boxes with numbers in them, which may have been another language. My apologies, but I have no idea how to convert it to English.

Monday, August 10, 2009

Bulb Convergence

Other obscure titles I might have used; City Bus Seating Tag Teams that surfaced as a negro to negro tag team, then later as a head adornment (do-rag) to head adornment (turban) tag team, and the multitudinous Asian to Asian tag teams. That is to say, there is a consistent and repetitive pattern of gangstalkers on the city bus who disembark after getting up from their seats, and leaving via the rear door, and the next tag team member boards at the same bus stop via the front door and either sits in the just-vacated seat or next to it. This minimal seat vacancy duration is interesting, as it's parallel might be traffic intersections where even the cyclists run red lights to reduce the vacancy duration of the road traffic passing through, and me walking over the road traffic's tracks. I have being doing plenty of city bus travel this week as the daffodil bulb picking and sorting is going strong, earning me real money. Enough to be solvent even, so I am not in the hole after my disability check.

So..., the first day of bulb sorting was yesterday, Aug. 10, and the first time in nearly a year that the perps let me buy garlic was 09-2008, so I could eat some on the first evening meal after sorting daffodil bulbs. Not that I know why this "happened", but it seemed that this bulb convergence, spending 8 hours handling daffodil bulbs was some kind of entre to eating another bulb form later in the day, that being garlic. The "garlic thing" has been important in the past for the perps as it was in my diet until 2005 or so when I dropped eating salads. And the perps would plant garlic skins in the apartment as pick-up-liiter games, via the usual fuckery.

And tonight, Aug. 11, they let me make salad and eat salad, the first time since late 2004 when that menu item "happened" to lapse. I had a salad mix purchased from the daffodil farm, spring onions from the same source, basil from the same source, and tomatoes from my mother's gardening boxes. I also had balsamic vinegar from local sources, made from mead no less, also sold at the daffodil farm. I am eating local, and this is likely endorsed, if not formented, by the Shadow Clowns.

Regular readers might recall that I did three weeks of bulb sorting last year; having brown colored rubber belts rotating near me is near nirvana for the perps and their brown color games. I also notice that they are adding more brown colored vehicles into the vehicular gangstalking configurations, usually with a surrounding pod of white, silver-grey, mid-grey and black colored vehicles, getting a full grey-scale reading at the same time.

I suppose I could write at length about the daffodil bulb sorting perp games and gangstalking bullshit, I am having a "too tedious" moment at the (planted) thought of it. The usual too many bulbs on the conveyor games, then following a paucity, and having the conveyor belt momentarily reverse itself as well as the strange behavior of others at the marshalling area in the morning, where they seem to know they are on the bulb sorting job even if nothing has been said. The Czech dude in red has been all over me for the past week, in the field and on the bulb sort line, and even emulated my break time respite sitting among the thousands of empty black plastic bulb picking boxes, 20' away. Later, the Negro #1 (Short Hair Negro) did the same. He was on the bulb sort line today, and rather strange as he wasn't there the day before, and the bulb sort crew is usually kept consistent. Anyhow, it wasn't the dusty field work of last week, though there seems to be some remaining bulb picking work which might be assigned sometime this week.

There are the usual throngs of color and type arranged vehicle apparent when I am travelling on the city bus. I travel in a reverse commute, heading N. in the morning to the farm, while most road traffic is in the opposite direction heading for downtown. In other words, I cannot attribute just how many vehicles are arranged for vehicular gangstalking, and those that aren't. All vehicles in the opposite direction appear to be arranged, and it is likely to be in the low thousands. I notice that the colors are arranged in larger numbers; often six to eight white and/or silver-grey vehicles in a pod to start off when the bus has turned a corner, or as the lead-in colors for others. They put a boy gangstalker across the aisle on the bus with a ridiculously bright yellow fleece jacket with an native Indian boy blocking him much of the time, so perhaps he was a localized yellow reference for the few yellow vehicles in the vehicular gangstalking milieu. And I saw the "Teabag Dude" of the former car dealership cleaning job "happened" to be on the bus with his hair a darker color. The perps made sure I saw him, as his cover story would put him at the said car dealership location (2 km) at that time.

Some pictures. And if they are repeats that would be the perps doing, as it was evident by mid-2008 they could fuck with my visual recall when they couldn't before.

Taken in 0-7-2009, and I cannot find it in Picasa, even though that is where it is. This is what "happens" to furniture in TI-World; it slowly peels away from the wall. This represents some 12 months of incremental fuckery, and the same thing goes on in the bathroom with the cabinet slowly lifting off from one side.

Taken 07-06-2009, 1753h 11sec. This apartment faces E. and there would be no direct light source from that direction after 1100h. What are you going to do if you want later direct sunlight on the nonconsensual human experimentation victim (TI)? Why you create "reflections" of astonishing angles and withy an unerring precision to be pointed in the victim's apartment from three different buildings for some four hours of coverage. So where is this bolt of light coming from that lights up the full 20' of the apartment?

Why, it is the neighboring tower that is blessed with some strange window angles to point the beam straight in. Taken 07-06-2009, 1753h 30sec.

Taken 07-28-2009, 0745h. And this IS the E. sunlight directly beaming in, reaching to the chair and blocked by the window header. In other words, that rectangle of sunshine on the left is the real thing. But what if that isn't good enough and the plastic drawer set needs some illumination? Why, just create an additional 12" splash of light further into the apartment, the one on the right side, below the drawer unit. No need to fake it with reflections games either, just unadulterated adulteration/fuckery.

Time for bed for the bulb picker.

Sunday, August 09, 2009

Out of Focus

More vision assaults; everything that I see on this LCD is out of focus, though the reasons aren't entirely clear. It could be direct neural vision perturbations or it could be an increased round of masers and other irradiation coming off the LCD. Or both, but it seems that the assholes want to stick it to me, as yelling at them only brings temporary relief of some 5 to 10 seconds.

A First Feral Family visitation; my mother arriving to then have me drive to the old folks home to spring my father for the afternoon at their place. Besides the aircraft noise, there wasn't too many aural incursions and the both of them went to sleep in their respective outdoor chairs. I was on compost watering duty as it hadn't been done all week and it really sucks up water as part of the composting process. This minor obsession over composting comes from the perps; they had Ms. C do a master composter's course, and both my parents are in maximal loiter mode (read, gangstalking) when I have been working on building the compost pile. I also got extra noisestalking when working on the compost, which included sieving earlier this year, directly into the box I built for my mother's crop growing this year. So yes, watering the compost seems to haved evolved into "my" project, the concept of ownership also being of great interest to the perps. I keep telling my mother to water it but she doesn't and will water the two boxes with crops in then immediately adjacent to the compost pile.

I got my carbohydrates fill for the week while there; cookies, cake and more cake. A dinner in there too, and watching the TV news, only two blondes on Global News from Vancouver tonight.

I did the city bus freakshow back into downtown tonight, and had my plastic bag rustling Fuckwit woman next to me at the bus shelter. It was all dudes (eight) tonight, save the woman who followed me on, and she was almost looking like one of them in her homeless garb. Plenty of passengers to pick up as well for a Sunday night in suburbia, and a few couples came on too. I was humphing my duffel bag with my rubber boots inside of it, along with some surplus produce that my mother gave to me. More blueberries, twice as much as I have on hand, so there will be plenty of desserts this week.

We the bulb pickers are to be working in the field tomorrow and it is expected to be raining. Which equals mud and more mud when farming. If it was forestry, much more familiar to me, there wouldn't be the mud factor, just belabored activity as the rain makes for slippery conditons.

And my vision is getting more impaired tonight; the cone of sharp focussed vision has been reduced and it is not these progressive lens eyeglasses as I would of noticed the problem long ago. I wonder what the perps are up to when they engage in ongoing vision fucking games.

Time to call this one done and post it. A lightweight posting to be sure, but I didn't have oodles of online time today. And early to bed for the earlier start.

Postscript; For Anonymous who sent three comments on Higgs Boson (yesterday's blog) and I got mind-fucked into deleting one when I had no such intention.

Saturday, August 08, 2009

Higgs Bosun

A round of sicko excitement as I read about the Higgs bosun at this article here. They kept jamming fart smell up my nose for the longest lingering smell duration ever, and cranking up an overhead groaning noise that somehow made through the earmuffs I am wearing. It was a scraping groaning noise like a chair on lino, as if the overhead floors aren't carpeted, but they all are. Never mind conventional reality when the fuckers are so desparate.

This is at-home day today, a Saturday, and no car dealership car cleaning job either. I get to hang out and do time online. But I did make it to the ATM and deposit two paychecks, enough to get me in the black for the first time in over 10 months. That won't last though, as groceries and utility payments will consume the balance until I get paid from the current farm job. As usual, the gangstalker freakshow was out in force for my two block walk to the ATM. I even had same color dressed Fuckwits accompanying me, and some olive skinned weirds hanging around outside of the ATM, visible through the glass.

But at least on my outing I didn't have to step over a 4" septic services hose that ran from a building to a curbside parked tanker truck. Which is most curious in the first place, as all the downtown buildings are on sewer. This stunt was a two days ago when heading for the bus at 0700h. The perp's consuming interest in shit and all things brown hasn't abated any, and they aren't about to hide it any.

And I see that my namesake died yesterday; I take the view that nothing in my life is a coincidence, and I suppose this unfortuneate event just might be playing into the perp's insane research objectives in some way, though the precise reasons are only known to them.

And more New York city area aircraft accidents; it would appear that the perps are not yet finished dumping aircraft into buildings and water bodies; a helicopter and light aircraft collision over the Hudson River today. I know I sound intensely conspiratorial, but given the perps' methods they have let me in on, it fits the pattern IMHO. And the article provides a recent history of air accidents in the NYC area, some of which were unknown to me. Didn't a Trump helicopter also get ditched into the Hudson River a few years ago?

More restless legs as I was about to do blogging; later then.

The masers and plasma beams are getting to become significant vision perturbance events, aka, cognition harassment. Yesterday, while toiling in the daffodil fields, I could see the entire hillside sloping upward was shooting masers at me constantly. There were streams of bright dots coming at me from the ill. In the past, the perps have run a electric motorbike across the mid-hillside that was facing me. I suspect that the entire farm is irradiated, and can be then manipulated to shoot maser or plasma beams at will. These kind of phenomenon are very strange and bewildering, but are occuring on a regular basis, but with the intensity cranked up.

And instead of one blonde woman on the crew for a few days, as the "introductory blonde aura, they have at least two on the daffodil bulb crew and another three on a warehouse crew. When I arrive at the farm worksite the blondes all cluster together in one group. And I see that the Global News, the only TV news that I watch once per week at my parent's place had three blondes at the news desk; anchor, meteorologist and another substituting for sports. The local TV station also put on a blonde for sports reporting, but they never get the camera close in with her, only near full-height standing. And if you are wondering what the fuss is about my tormentors planting attractive (usually) blonde women in my view, read On Blondes. Three days ago on the city bus for the first work day, they planted an older blonde woman with tight curly hair. I didn't care to see this hlemet-head hair style any, but the perps kept redirecting my vision there much more than would otherwise would happen. This was before work started and might have been preparation for the later arrival of the Short Hair Negro as mentioned in the last posting. He had tight curly hair as well, though in his case it was natural. And I see that Mop Haired Negro of two days ago only lasted one day, as he didn't return for Friday's bulb picking. His story doesn't add up; bring on a new employee the day before work completion? It isn't expectable, but I suppose someone of the Tormenting Asshole Corps wanted a dual negro comparison, and their respective hair to be sidely different.

Other negro action on yesterday's city bus trip into downtown was to have a male seated about 8' away when I boarded. About halfway he gets off the bus via the rear door and a negro woman gets on at the front door and sits down in the adjacent seat to the one the negro male had vacated. Too funny, in other circumstances, this little round of musical chairs, sans music. As this is a rural route bus it is even more rare to have negroes on board, and to have them exchange neighboring seats is a totaly orchestration.

Other brown skin action on yesterday's city bus trip, the same inbound trip as the paragraph above, was an E. Indian vignette that took place with an intervening Caucasian woman who blocked much of it. An E. Indian woman in a flowing filamentous yellow wrapped garment comes on board and then places herself where the above negro woman had been. Within 30 seconds she sits across the aisle, blocked mostly by an Caucasian woman, starting a round of "peekaboo" the assholes like to play. She then starts talking to an E. Indian male in the now-familiar Punjabi speech pattern. The odd thing was that I did not see any E. Indian male board the bus. But lo, within five minutes a turbaned E. Indian male gets off at the front door, leaving the woman in place, still "hiding" behind the Caucasian woman. Anyhow, all this racial action over the color of brown is getting more blatant and more perverse.

One of last year's bulb picking crew was a schizo wacko act, and to no surprise he "happened" to be on the city bus three days ago, heading for the farm. He makes himself to be very friendly and in time one gets used to his banter that widely fluctuates in relevance. On the second day of work he was on the bus again, two seats away, and he asks me out loud if I saw the movie "The Private Life of Benjamin Button", where the central character is born old and gets progressively younger. (Actually, it is The Curious Case of Benjamin Button). He rambled some more about the movie, and then he says "it could happen to you". My "reaction" was to make a joke about it, the real answer should of been, "with the company I keep that is entirely possible". Anyhow, the perps are very guarded as to who I open up to about the ongoing life fuckover games. That I had some gangstalkers in closer proximity wasn't any fluke, especially the blonde with the sunglasses on inside the bus. She had no sunglasses on when she boarded and sat two seats away, and then later put them on when inside the bus. What was that all about?

The perps have told me that I might be age regressed in a general way, but as always one cannot believe any of these planted notions, especially when the primary relationship is non-stop abusive, not to mention FUD prone. It is rare that I get any broad hints from their operatives or shills directly, but this was one. Put it in the "show me" column and don't revisit the topic. I am currently age regressed by 10 to 15 years, and no one mentions it. At the time, in 2003, I asked the then doctor how old I looked and he wasn't inclined to look at me and answer my question.

Taken 07-06-2009, 1753h. The later eveningtime beams that unerringly "find" my apartment. This one coming through and lighting up my desk area, some 7' from the balcony window. I live in an E. facing apartment, and to get some "direct" sunshine later in the day, the perps put on this beam nonsense most summertime evenings. The distance is the full length of my apartment, some 18' to 20'.

Taken 07-06-2009, 1753h. The putative source of the beam.

Taken 07-06-2009, 1753h. A close-in picture of the beam source. This is one building of four that the putative reflections "find" my apartment to direct their light beams into.

Taken 07-08-2009, 0922h. More sabotage; these pillows arrive from being laundered with their newly inflicted brown streak, seeming to be a reference color next to my head. That I have brown hair might have something to do with it. The other pillow has deeper brown dribblings on it, likely for the same purpose.

Taken 07-08-2009, 0922h. A close up of the damage showing some color saturation variance through the middle; same color, just a lighter tone between the two arcs. I wonder how much effort was expended on designing this little unlaunderable streak.

Random ramblings: what is with the feathers all over the place? Outside my apartment, in the daffodil fields, on the streets, etc. Most often they are white, and lesser amounts of black(10%) and mid-grey(5%). I did my stint of fly tieing, no matter if it was some three decades ago.

More time spent coveting various PC components, should a cool $1G come my way. And plenty of earmuff noise and internal head noise while doing so.

Wednesday, August 05, 2009

Daffodil Bulb Picking, Round II

I should mention that I am working, though possibly for a week at the most, dashing my plans to be solvent AND have money for upgrading this here PC in advance of my hoped for computer courses. Yes, I am in the dusty daffodil bulb fields of last year, and with the gangstalking crew members, though only two loony acts this time, both repeats from last year. One has dreadlock hair, and it is something I cannot stand the sight of. So.. what does he do? He puts a red ball cap on and has a few dreadlocks sticking through the adjustment area at the back. Like I said before in one posting, one dreadlock at a time is how the perps go about attempting to determine what traumatization associations I have, and then build it up from there. The dreadlock do has a long way to go before they can have me remediated, subconscious traumatizations repaired. Not that I am asking for it, and would be much better off if was LEFT ALONE, but that isn't going to happen in the highly interventionist nonconsensual Bubble World Prison I am kept in.

And it seemed the perps are continuing with the negro theme in the farm fields. I had at least three last year doing their gangstalking thing, and one of them I befriended for a time; she was conversant in the big picture, and since work ended in early Sept. 2008, she has pretended not to know me. Nothing new there, as I regularly get this bizarre behavior from others. And note, it has nothing to do with me, so how can this be clinical. There have been at least 20 of these blatant "don't know you even if we chatted at length --- weeks ago".

Yesterday was my first work day picking bulbs, And they arranged an hour of "settle in/warm up" time before the first negro arrived by pickup, and even had the door opened for him like he was royalty. He soon got into wearing shades after his first pass-by with the foreman, the negro dude looking away when I first glanced at him. Like who would do this when one's footing is so treacherous due to the rocky and dirt clodded terrain? As it turned out, he is quite an active conspiracist, detailing all manner of historical events back to Christopher Columbus, Masons, etc. I didn't join in the fray, as I have my own nascent conspiracist leanings, and don't know my history well enough to be able to cast judgement. Call him Short Hair Negro.

Then today, another newbie negro, Mophead Negro. He is at least 6' and has 8" of a wild fizzy black mop on top. At one time during the day when I "happened" to be looking uphill some 200', he was facing me and covering his face with a drinking bottle. I cannot get over how many partial looks the perps arrange, and it is constant all day. The coup de gras negro moment was when they were side by side (5' apart), some 60' uphill from me, one in a white top and the other in a grey top, and some 300' further there was a silver-grey pickup that had arrived and had its headlights on which were spatially arranged to be seen between the negros from my perspective. As part of this nonsense, they had a black and white Central Saanich police vehicle 90 offset from the pitlamping pickup truck, adjacent to it. The silver-grey pickup has also come by earlier while on break at the farm bus, and had driven over exactly where the two negroes were standing for some 15 minutes of their break. Anyhow, apart from some distance dependent negro stalking with headlight backup, I don't really know what the perps were doing with their Double Negro With Pitlamping stunt.

In case the reader is bewildered about the above, read the Favored and Unfavored blog posting to the right. The perps have a constant interest in the color of brown, and it seems that skin color plays a big factor in their interests. The Indian Lake Project of the late 1950's shows negro and caucasian children stuffed into 4' cages by military personnel, and if I was there, all of 3 or 4 y.o. as it seems from one photo, then there just might be a host of traumatization associations with certain races. The perps have arranged many race based gangstalking incidents, and the frequency of various races is much greater than what the demographic group populations would suggest. I get plenty of strange military dressed gangstalkers when there is no reason for them to be loitering on North Park St. at 1230h (always post yoga) on Thursdays every week for some 8 months. Especially when they are packing grocery bags and hanging out sucking on cigarettes.

The daffodil bulb patch is next to a very busy highway, and I would not be surprised if the traffic intensity, volume and noise wasn't managed for the entire day. There were plenty of motorcycle noises, and even the Fuckwits that refused to shift gear and make more noise for longer. And lo, if I didn't get plenty of bulb picking assignments nearest to the highway traffic. I was dispatched to start four rows of bulb picking and there was only five in total. Anyhow, the only major difference from last year is that I am wearing my big clunking hiking boots while daffodil bulb picking, while last year it was the boots that somehow fell apart by themselves, only the fourth time in five years.

I am getting the imposed restless legs jerkarounds and am calling this one done.

Tuesday, August 04, 2009

Laundry Room Gangstalking Returns

The perps had me using the laundry room without gangstalker accompaniment for the past year or so, and now have reverted to bringing in the Fuckwit when I "happen" to be there. And moreover, the said Fuckwit stands behind me giving me the creeps until I am done. The entry moment for the Fuckwit was immediately following cleaning the dryer air filter screen, and before the laundry had been moved from washing machine to dryer. I don't know what the attraction is, but in the past the perps also put on gangstalkers at the laundry transfer moment. That he was a doppelganger for one of my former (now aged) colleagues was interesting, though the voice didn't match.

And I suppose part of the attraction is to have a gangstalker on me at the moment of loading coins into the slots and starting the dryer. This amounts to a financial transaction, and we all know how beserk the assholes go over that event, in all its forms and locations; cash, check, credit card, debit card at ATMs, checkouts, online, resturaunts, etc.

I did my month end financials, reconciling my record in Quicken to that of my online bank statement. No major jerkarounds that would of caused a rage show, but they did take me sideways at least 50x; looking at the wrong line, changing the amount while at another screen, reading "problems", "misperceptions", and a few others. As always, they blank out the color for Transactions-Edit-Insert, and fuck with the split entries so I have to key them in when they are calculated but "somehow" end up in the wrong box. The imposed chocolate fixation cost me $145 for July, and there was the parking fine for $30, and overdraft fees of $15. It looks like I will be $1,000 in the hole by month end unless I get some more farm labor income, which I might do tomorrow even. Which tells me that if I want to upgrade this PC I had better earn some $2500 to be in the black when it is all done and said. And only one month left of farm labor work going by last year's experience.

Earlier, I had a nap and was awakened some 40 minutes into it by an "employment coach" of one local disability help group. And lo, if it wasn't a sing-song Scottich accent for 20 minutes, which if you follow this blog, is a decidedly Unfavored accent that only the perps can explain with certainty. (It is postulated that in the blanked out years, age 2 to 5, I met the infamous Dr. Ewen Cameron (a Scot) of McGill University when we stayed there for two academic terms). Basically, it was a wash, as the disability programs are for registered degree or diploma programs, a whole $1200/year. There is nothing to cover evening classes, even if it covers workplace software. Nothing new, but an earful of Scottie Talk as I have come to call this particular harassment stunt, albeit relatively innocuous. He kept driving at "is there something else you can get into", and "would you like to explore other options". I don't know what this portends; a ruse to keep the conversation going or was it a big hint I will be doing something else. (The perps keep telling me that I will be a oil industry roughneck next year, but as they never allow me to stay in the black, or earn large amounts of money, this cannot be anything else but bullshit. )

Earlier today, I took my medical sample in, gave a blood sample and then an urine sample. In the last category the perps totally screwed me as I wasn't able to pee more than 1/2" deep into a 3" deep collection jar. So far, I haven't heard back that it wasn't enough, but given that the home collection shit sampling has been fraught, I shouldn't of been too surprised for another never-before event, an inability to provide a sufficient urine sample. I had not peed beforehand, and had two cups of coffee as well. An all time record minimal pee just when I needed to deliver a small regular volume. Funny how that keeps happening, the identical "problem" with the shit swabs I took last week.

I had to deal with the locked front door of the medical building, and a Fuckwit cruised in as I was contemplating what to do; on the cell phone, with a skinhead and replicating my actions and then retreating for some reason, as he didn't seem too miffed that he couldn't get in. But I was bailed out by a woman on the other side who could not open the doors to go in the back parking lot door. Totally bizarre, fucking with building access after 0800h.

I walked back into downtown, some 20 minutes worth, and had my vehicular gangstalking show (~800 vehicles) of coordinated colors and types all around me, not to mention the red light running so they can minimize the time between the vehicle and me crossing its path on the sidewalk. This bullshit is getting out of hand of late, even the cyclists are running red lights now.

I also had my asphalt sitting Fuckwits at a bus stop; sitting on the edge of the roadway for crissakes. Then another fucker 25' away standing beside the road doing absolutely nothing but staring at it, 90 degrees offset from the road sitter, a negro in this case. Another set up was a road maintenance crew who closed down one lane and had vehicular road traffic constrained with the E. bound traffic using a W. bound lane. Not only did they have the dayglo temporary road signs up, and a dumptruck parked in the road (facing opposite direction of normal road traffic), but they appeared to be doing nothing substantive, e.g. no excavator. And then the attendant four dudes in dayglo arranged themselves in a line transverse to the sidewalk direction, and then left an opening for me to pass through.

Then, once getting back from the walk, which took in the local supermarket along the way, the perps put on some orange color games. On the third attempt I was allowed to find the orange boxes of baking soda, (they couldn't of been there before), and also purchase fresh peaches. Once I got back and put away my groceries, an urge came on to eat a peach, which are usually messy. My long standing solution to eating peaches is to eat them over the sink and let the juice flow out and have it be caught by the sink. So... yellow-range peach juice falls into the sink, and immediately following, I place the new frypans in a baking soda (orange package) solution to remove the shellac off the copper bases. Not that it worked, but I suppose there was some serious color comparisons going on in perp land with two orange color sources in the sink with two pans with copper bottoms. Don't ask me why all this color continuity is important, but it is, and it seems to be getting more complex of late.

And I am made to be at a loose end, as this is when I would ordinarily be doing my part time car dealership cleaning job. It was 1.5 hours six times per week, and at least accounted for some time in the day that I was occupied by work, and not slouching in front of this here LCD blathering about crumbs, lint and the rest of the insane impositions I deal with all day.

I got screwed out of getting a bus pass tonight; "remembering" just when the LD store was closed isn't my style, so it must be another party that is doing the recall management, and not to my level of satisfaction by any means. Just one more adversity on top of the rest of the bullshit that has been going on today. Fucking depressing that I am not allowed to turn a page without it becoming an adversarial experience with the assholes working my fingers contrary to my intent.

Time for some pictures to fill out the posting. I never hear much if they are interesting or not, save one commenter. But I suppose that is part of the nature of the harassment, sustaining isolation and not allowing interaction except in highly controlled and limited circumstances.

Taken 06-24-2009, 1831h 48sec. Two silver-grey vehicles and two similar blue vehicles. The second silver-grey vehicle is behind the tree. (Haven't we seen that before? Yessir).

Taken 06-24-2009, 1831h 52sec. The wider scope, nothing any more odd that the first picture above, though there are more white, and grey vehicles, as well as the dutiful ladder bearing commercial van that is such a regular.

Taken 06-24-2009, 1831h 57sec. A second Volvo 244 moves into the picture, beside the parked blue Volvo, but a darker silver-grey, an unfamiliar color option, and I do know my Volvos.

Taken 06-24-2009, 1832h 04sec. The white truck that came from the left side street, turned the corner behind the leftmost foreground tree, and proceeded in front of the silver-grey Volvo, stopped at the traffic control. Nothing too perverse here, though one can treat these as Where's Waldo and find more strange arrangements than I can find. (My ability to detect normality has been defeatable since late 2007 to early 2008. The reflection in the pool of water is way strange, but it is not the first time. The perps routinely modify/create reflections in glass and mirrors, but this was one they didn't mind being photographied.

Enough for tonight, and wish me well for returning to the daffodil fields to scrape the soil and dig up the bulbs. It should be interesting if nothing else. I wonder what the script is for tomorrow.

Monday, August 03, 2009

Milled Flaxseed Crumb Fucking Blues

That was too easy; "finding" milled flaxseed in the supermarket and then purchasing it to resume my diet of some three years ago when I could find it at other stores, enabled by vehicle access. And so this new brand, organic and all, "happens" to behave totally differently in the cereal bowl, as if charged with static electricity and sticking to the spoon or bowl in great quantity. It can even defeat being rinsed out, twice in fact, and can even stick to the bowl after vigorous scrubbing with the dish cleaning brush, the last remnants removed by hand. So..., given that this is totally strange behavior compared to the last brand of flaxseed, and there is no lessening of this insane crumb fest idiocy, the flaxseed gets chucked, a near pound of it, all to reduce the hassle level, and more to the point, serve as a three day test of flaxseed ingestion after a three year washout of not eating it. And it fits the pattern of incremental dietary changes, seeming to fit the usual jerkaround patterns, starting small, building up, and if intractable, then stop the diet change. In other words, no sustained major diet changes are allowed unless all energetic parameters are 100% modelled. A tall order never bothered the sickos, and that means seven years of impositional life rape at every moment of one's existence.

The perps are on a crumb fucking tear of late, and it seems they cannot give this one up, now testing smaller crumbs of the milled flaxseed. Expect a repeat in a year or so, as the digestion of essential fatty acids is a big deal for the perps, and they don't yet understand it all; hence these abortive jerkarounds of it becoming too much of a crumb hassle, at odds with other brands of the same commodity.

I did the Fisrt Feral Family dinner, and the same ass-backwards invitation of my in-town brother was my doing this time. For the second Family dinner at the house, they "forgot" to invite my in-town brother. It was me who answered the phone, and he asked me about dinner and I said it was in an hour, and he asked if it was OK to come. I had no knowledge of prior discussions, and I wasn't putting on the dinner, but I did find it odious that he wasn't invited (it seemed), and that he should come. My mother made out that she didn't invite him due to an oversight, but mentioned that there was plenty of food to go around. This is nearly identical to two nights ago when, again apparently, he happened to phone at the right time and was invited only then. In both instances he gave me a ride home as I had to take the city bus freakshow to the First Feral Family home. My out-of-town brother is visiting with his wife and child for those who aren't up on the scripted flux that is my existence.

While waiting for dinner to cook, there was an outing to the wine store with my in-town brother and this large woman in black seemed to be loitering where I, or my brother had been, and after a few minutes she exited. She had the look of someone I know, but of a much larger size. And the reds were out once we exited the wine store together; two parked red colored vehicles each side of his vehicle, another one in front of his vehicle, and once closer, another red vehicle in motion and a copper colored vehicle two stalls away. That is seven red vehicles (if copper is counted, not sure about that as I wasn't inundated with this color before), in one glance, and I think the record for arranged red colored gangstalker vehicles is nine. Plus, there was two horizontal 8' long red plastic bumpers for the shopping cart rack in the center of this red nexus. My brother put on that he wasn't fazed in any way, it was "normal". Only in Fuckover land can that considered to be normal. I even asked my doctor once if he would find four same red colored vehicles packed around his in traffic, and he said he would. Sometimes us TI's need to be reminded that our instincts and knowledge is still our own and not subverted in any way. (Though it can be, as the perps first learned to fuck with my perception of normality in 2006-7).

Anyhow, the same deal with First Feral Family dinners; put them on two hours late while starving the victim (TI, me) some more. In the meantime, my out-of-town brother insisted I listen to his Moody Blues at the Isle of Wight DVD at one end of the living room, while at the other end, my in-town brother was regaling my mother and sister-in-law with his pseudo-romance tales, and my niece was also on her own conversational track. Three competing sources of conversation simultaneously, and nothing new to me, having me (more like, making me) flit from one to the other, depending which was the most interesting. Then at the dinner table a similar muti-thread conversation was in place, just with me at more the center of it, flitting from one parallel track to the other depending on who asked what questions. I was assigned this rather unconventional rambling delivery, and having the words accessible (for once), and tripping off my tongue. I had three glasses of wine with dinner, but I am quite sure it was my puppet masters still in charge, and keeping me in this multi-track conversation. Along the way, my out-of-town brother pontificated about software systems building, saying that Geographic Information Systems (GIS) is over saturated with development personnel and was inferior to database design skills. Decoded, in order; WTF does he know about software development hiring as there has been many such GIS jobs advertised in the past 10 months of looking. Another possible decode is that he is supplying the perps' scripted outlook for me for the next 4 months, especially with respect to the GIS courses I was planning to take in the evening, should I get a grant. He declared (more like, supplied the scripted delivery) that database jobs had much more potential and that his business still needs a maintenance person, and that one could work from home. Perhaps the "work from home" phrase was another hint, though I don't see how it fits when I haven't actively worked in the field for seven imposed years. Given the seeming overcautiousness/reluctance of hiring personnel when it comes to me, I find it difficult to take the latter as a hint, as recent and relevant experience is another barrier the hiring personnel like to raise. IN other words, only the better software personnel work best at home, but still require some serious up-front interaction on any given project before they can work off site. Or, at least, that is my view, as too many past software projects have gone off the rails with "at home" personnel. Anyhow, it is all very circuitous, especially when he is talking through his hat. Though, last September when visiting, he slammed construction laborer jobs as being too physically punishing, and this was when the perps had me pumped up to get such work due to what the fellow daffodil bulb laborers were telling me. (And, I had bought $200 worth of clothing at his store to get myself readied for a construction laborer job that never materialized because no one would phone me back.) Read the bullshit as if it were real, or discard it? The recent grant application jerkaround suggests taking the first route to evening courses this fall and into spring.

And interesting is that the grant jerkaround was July 31, the Friday when my out-of-town brother and family arrived later it the day, timed to making it topical for dinnertime tonight. And it did seem like such a gimme lead-in when the topic was first broached by my brother. One has to play the play it seems.

Time to call this done, and hit the hay. The illicit affair blogs were of interest tonight, especially ones from the female perspective. Given the perps' consuming interest in sex, that is, for me to read about or view, perhaps the written word is their incremental introduction approach they have arranged for me this time around. For some five months in 2001 they had me on this 4 hour/night uncharacteristic porn voyeur streak, and since the apartment invasion, they have me uninterested in porn or nudity, which is the way I prefer it.

Sunday, August 02, 2009

Nap Attack

I am still wiped out from the three hour nap this afternoon, all part of the scripted mind-fuck games. This followed a First Feral Family luncheon after my out-of-town brother's tin man triathalon completion. He won the Clydesdale class, for those over 200 lb. And his wife and daughter were there, and the latter put up quite a show of defiance, as both parents are slack on the follow through. Even I got into parenting when she pointed her finger 2" from my daughter's (19 y.o.) eye. I suppose that too was scripted and any consternation on my part was generated as the assholes usually blank me out from knowing that every move is scripted. I am not allowed to know the prominent causal agency of many, if not most of, the events that occur around me.

There were some of the musical chair games, sans music. This is where they take turns sitting in different chairs around me. My in-town brother was opposite me in his brown jacket, then when others came he sat beside me. After her turn at musical chairs, my sister-on-law (E. Indian) sat on my other side. My daughter was opposite, and it seems that the strategy of having me come first with my in-town brother was to keep me in one place, while the rest of them slowly filled in, moving chairs as part of the process.

Other hokey shit was a group photo at the doorway just before leaving, courtesy of the blonde waitress. This semi-chaos was augmented by new customers wandering through, or at least stopping at the doorway, unsure about proceeding. Regular readers will know the perps are totally beserk in being able to remotely detect changes as one egresses buildings, and even rooms. Hence, heavy gangstalker action at the local supermarket each time I enter or exit or both in one visitation.

Once I got back, I was given the sleepy jerkarounds when online, and laid down for a nap that ended up being three hours. Quite the jerkaround it was, as I wasn't shy on sleep. I had a 10 hour sleep last night, but with a few interuptions which were handled in a unique way. They woke me up and had me yell at them after a few minutes, and then I fell asleep, some three times. Perhaps having me vocalize at all times of the night is the latest perp angle on harassment/study.

Other excitement has been minimal; keeping me in on the hot days of late isn't such a bad idea as long as they don't crank up the heat in this apartment, which is usually the case. Even at 0800h this morning, with this apartment in the shade from the opposite (E. ward) residence tower, the perps cranked up the Pseudosweats such that I was dripping at breakfast. After my shower, shave and dentaly hygeine routine, they kept up the Pseudosweats and eventually, using the towel erupted in a blood stain from this one location on my forehead called a "perma-wound". It never scabs, and just unloads blood at the specified time, the last use of the towel, one I put out this morning for the first time. So..., two towels down, one used for 6 days, and one used for 30 minutes were in the laundry with some other items. These towels are still assigned linting capabilities, and I cannot launder just any garments with them. Anyhow, my laundering knowledge was screwed with such that I "forgot" the clothes had finished the washing machine cycle, until my in-town brother phoned on his way to pick me up. The perps made sure I "remembered" to pick up my laundry from the dryer when I returned from the luncheon, as I exited from the elevator. No laundry stealings or trashings this time. I ended up spending some 30 min. waiting at my brother's place before setting off for the luncheon. He had some lawnmowing to finish up on, and I suppose it may have served the perp's noise and EM assault puposes, as this is a very common "eruption" at this time of year. I read the newspaper while there, and this activity seems to be interest for the perps, their paper fixation. Hence the gangstalkers packing around papers, and even the ludicrous book reading while they are walking along. I had never seen this bullshit until the apartment assault that started this insane harassment fuckover in 04-2002.

My in-town brother's neighbor was out front, and he put on a shirtless display of his full back tattoos, more of this particular fugliness that gets arranged for me to see. I wonder if that was the reason he was selected to live next door, or was it affording a $500,000 down-to-the-framing renovation that went on for nearly a year. These heavy duty renovations have a way of following me around town. My 2003-4 residence had an adjacent house renovated in this manner. And too, soil exposures and digging also fit into the perp plans, and both houses had their perimeter drains dug up as well.

Pictures time, to continue through the recent upload.

Taken 07-01-2009. My desk/bookcase is slowly taking a list by leaning away from the wall. I never had self-leaning furniture before, even if it is Ikea. The perps like to pull things away from the walls that are ordinarily placed there; my bed at the parent's place, and then when temporarily storing my items at my brother's place.

Parked in file left to right, a silver-grey vehicle, a red vehicle behind the tree, a red vehicle and a deep silver-grey vehicle. The latter is one of those Mecedes C series, their $42k small car. For some reason the perps have been chasing me with this model, one I hadn't seen or noticed before. They even put one on the lot of the Japanese car dealership I worked at until 2 days ago. And a mobile silver-grey vehicle on the right, headed in the opposite direction to the parked file.

Taken 07-04-2009, 1819h 26sec. More grey car action passing through, a deeper grey, and a blue vehicle entering from the right, mostly behind the tree.

Taken 07-04-2009, 1819h 29sec. A nice little stack of mid-grey metallic finish vehicles, two in motion and one parked. The above blue vehicle is again behind a tree, but the one in mid-picture.

Taken 07-04-2009, 1819h 34sec. The scene is "settled down" and now the ambulatory gangstalker comes to walk through the path of the above passing vehicles, all the same color. The fugly green coat might have something to do with this, as silver-grey is one of the perps' favorite reference colors.

Time to call this finished and post it.

Saturday, August 01, 2009

Pitched Crumb Battles

I am getting a number of reboots, "self erupting", of my Yahoo mail, so time to start the daily list of adverse travails delivered by the relentless and insane tormentors. I know, seven years of life rape, and they are still pissing around with crumbs, and the faux crumbs that are really divots in the laminate counter and a new one on the oven handle (white, with a black divot in it).

The latest escalation in this tedious and ongoing skirmish over crumbs is the re-introduction of milled flaxseed into my breakfast diet. Back in 2006 when I gave up my vehicle, I also reduced my food sources to the local supermarket that has now served me in three residence locations. One of the items that couldn't be found was milled flaxseed, no big deal as I also add a tablespoon full of hemp seed (legal here) to my cereal. As it so happened, I "found" flaxseed when I was getting skunked on finding baking soda for the second time, and have begun adding it back into my breakfast cereal. Well, it is like no other flaxseed as it won't float free in the cereal bowl, but gets "stuck" on the bowl. Routine practice after eating cereal is to rinse the bowl out in advance of doing the dishes, but the new flaxseed particles won't lift off but stays stuck in a facade of some 100 or more small "crumbs" on the bowl surface. (Too many to individually chase down). Then when the cereal bowl is cleaned in soapy water with the other dishes, there are flaxseed crumbs still remaining after I scrub it extra hard, and even at that, the last few need to be manually removed after rinsing. What was formerly a no-problem food item has now become the lead jerkaround/escalation over the crumb fucking games the perps put me through each day.

The flaxseed crumbs are of a fine nature, and more than even the ground coffee crumbs which mysteriously erupt on the stove top (adjacent to making coffee), and those that also erupt on the drain mat after the dishes have dried. There is also a mysterious crumb accumulation in one of the cupboards where I keep the olive oil, and after getting jerked around with crumb games, (they somehow resist being carried down the drain with flowing water), I cleaned this dry crumb mess up. As soon as I did, an eruption of outside road noise, heavy duty vehicles and Harley motorcycles came on as I cleaned up this cupboard crumb mess that slowly accretes over months. They even showed me one of these crumbs teleporting in a few days ago, as if I didn't know how they got there, as there is nothing nearby that could create the spillage.

And the coup de gras of the crumb games is to create a spill on the counter near on of the crumb-like divots in the laminate counter, and then jerk me around into "thinking" the divot is a crumb, and an additional crumb is a divot. This dumbshit event (been there, done that) was duly accomplished by them flicking some of the ground coffee when making coffee from the spoonful onto the counter, and then having me clean it up with the kitchen sponge. There were three locations in fact; the crumb-divot area on the counter, and two on the white enamel stove top, one being a regular crumb deposition site. I never had any problem differentiating between the real crumbs and the faux crumb divots in the past, and all of a sudden such a misperception erupts as part of this arranged crumb confusion game. And what clinical explanation for that transitory event is there? And now that the sirens are going as I type this up, getting through my earmuffs no less, one can be sure this entire dissertation on fucking crumbs is of more interest to my tormentors than it is to me.

And more of the First Feral Family doings have unfolded today. My out-of-town brother, wife and child arrived yesterday afternoon, and no call from them. Then a call from my mother around noon time saying they are going out later to visit my father at the old folks home, and could I take the bus out later in the afternoon for family dinner? Fucking bizarre that is; no one phones for nearly 20 hours after their arrival, and then a request to later take the fucking city bus (freakshow), on a Saturday no less, when the bus schedule is much more sparse. The fact that I will be packing a bottle of wine from last September's excursion to the Okanagan maybe part of the perp excitement; having it take a longer duration journey to the First Feral Family than via getting picked up. The plan may change, but it all sounds so fucking hokey and exclusionary. I suspect they all go to to rehearsals for the scripted mind-fuck show that will be the First Feral Family dinner, hence this long familiar pattern of ignoring me for the first day when my out-of-town brother and family arrives.

Other jerkaround action today is to keep a mild smell of damp mildewy clothing up my nose, at least once every five minutes or more, and continuously for the past few hours. The window is open, and there is nothing that would be such a conventional smell source, as I am so fastidious about smell abatement and anything else that could be deemed as an excuse for olfactory perturbations. I am also getting the overhead rumbling noise through the earmuffs as I type this up, the 12" of concrete of the above ceiling/floor somehow can be selectively rumbled overhead, and can even be relocated to the kitchen or dining table if I am there.

So it looks to be a dull shut-in day until I take the city bus out to the First Feral Family dinner as mentioned above. Somehow, I "forgot" to cash my paycheck this morning from the cleaning job last night, and it is still in my wallet. I suppose the perps might be dithering me so I end up cashing two paychecks together; the strangely delayed one from berry picking and the one I presently have. It is very common that similar activities are combined into one visitation event, in this case to the ATM. The perps like to create events where there is more repitition and quantity of the same activity. In this way, they can better deduce what neural activities are consistent, and what are situational and dependent on the paycheck source, paycheck color and the rest of the minutae of variables they find so fascinating, and need to manipulate.

Other perp action today has been to add plasma beams, often of red hues, to sit over the keyboard, be displayed over the LCD screen I am using as I type, and in my peripherial vision where they first like to test these various colors and perturbations. They even had a red plasma beam in my shoe last night as I took off my socks, and before the sock was placed in it. (Where I keep socks if used but not needing laundering). It was accompanied by a red plasma flash beforehand, over my jeans, and another one afterward, somewhere in the room. Normally the perps put on a blue plasma display from dark corners and other locations, so it was most odd to see red plasma lighting up the inside of my shoe.

And a new jerkaround to go with eating blueberries. While eating the blueberries, and in my mouth, they will partially open my lips and then have a blueberry squirt out its juice some 10" or so, even if my teeth aren't bearing down on a blueberry at that particular moment. I suspect that the perps' mouth contents squirting games will intensify because eating food, in all its textures, colors and dynamic nature, is something the perps cannot get a handle on. This is evidenced by the many ambulatory gangstalkers with their mouth contents exposed, eating food, spitting or otherwise facilitating mouth access in my proximity. The all time dumbshit stunt of this type was having a trail of barf in mid-day on the sidewalk that went on for 300' or so, culminating at a queasy looking native Indian stretched out on a bench seat. So yes, mouth contents, only being a 1/2" away from one's brain, the focus of realtime remote study, is an exceedingly intractable study area the perps have not yet fully modelled, and thereby expedite their mind-fuck research/abuse games.

Taken 06-23-2009, 1836h. Some intersection action, this time blue color games with red and brown vehicles on the side. The street passing from left to right has two deep red vehicles with a two-tone light brown pickup between them, a parked deep brown Volvo 244, and a silver-grey parked vehicle, usually as a reference. And then, on the street on the left, passing from the foreground to the top of the frame, there is a cluster of blue vehicles, possibly using the blue awning as a reference. There are three mid-tone blue vehicles on the left side of this street section; two are alternately parked with two silver-grey vehicles in file, and the third mid-tone blue vehicle in motion with a light metallic blue vehicle preceding it, ready to make a right turn.

A close up the light metallic blue mini-van making a right turn, and the above mentioned alternate alignment of the mid-blue parked vehicles with silver-grey vehicles (two of each), and the mid-blue vehicle approaching the stopline, maybe stopped.

But we need to add more blue from the other direction, said the torment-master, and so it was thus that a mid-blue vehicle came from the left side and is passing in front of the three same color blue vehicles (two parked, one is stopped), and too, we need a grey-scale reference, and so one from the opposite direction was arranged to cross paths in the center of the intersection. The orthogonal deep metallic red vehicles parked also seem to serve as some kind of red reference as part of this decidedly more complex confluence of blues, silver-greys and reds, with some earlier brown vehicle action. Another light metallic blue and a silver-grey pair (a Volvo 245 like I owned for 15 years) are parked left-most, likely as a fixed reference in the orthogonal direction for the light metallic blue vehicle that took the corner, shown above.

And a final silver-grey vehicle to pass straight through the intersection, with another vehicle in the opposite direction, hidden by the tree (seems to be a white vehicle, or silver-grey, both greyscale colors by the definition I use). And a final Fuckwit in dark blue jeans and white gets to take the corner with his bicycle. No wonder I don't stand out too long when taking photos as the arrangements keep coming on.

That should be a wrap for this rather dull shut-in day, getting me primed for a later First Feral Family dinner tonight, city bus freakshow mandatory. The perps like to keep me in and then go out late in the day, hence the now-former part time eveningtime cleaning job at a local car dealership. These same patterns keep emerging, and I am always open to hear about other patterns readers may detect in these postings.

I took the city bus to the First Feral Family home, and my sister-in-law and daughter were there. My brother and mother were still out. Later they arrived, but the entire dinner was straight out of the perp's playbook; delay it by 1.5 hours to increase the hunger level, save for the child who eats first while watching TV, and even gets to throw some of the food around the living room. (Aged 4). Resident freaks on the city bus trip were a blondified male with tattoos on his bare arms, a very large woman in red, and a woman who came on with the same color of top that I was wearing, a powder blue. The freak count was on the low side for a city bus trip, but as this is a long weekend, perhaps the perp fuckover games are also muted.

I sensed the exchange between brother and sister-in-law was on the testy side, and it seems there isn't the cooperation there was, but more of a mutal challenge between them. I wonder if the perps govern their relationship, or at least monitor it. It seems clear that the perps don't do anything to help them, but to leave things as they are, even if on a downward trajectory. It is all too curious, and too, it could be faked just for me. I haven't figured this one out yet; for them, or for other relationships among the First Feral Family.

Anyhow, I did some gardening work, ensuring the composts were kept watered, which might have been all part of the script as the perps are totally beserk about composting. Ms. C of the story did a Master Composter course as part of her gardening schtick, which seemed to have represented a genuine interest at the time. Anyhow, I get plenty of elevated noisestalking when attending to compost piles, be it re-digging them or otherwise tending to their construction or maturation. That included aircraft noise tonight; at least five flyovers while attending to the compost and reading the newspaper outside, some 40 minutes in all. One flyover was totally out of sync; helicopter noise with a jet aircraft above. It is time this dumbshit bullshit ended.

Other dumbshit bullshit was getting a ride from myh in-town-brother back to my place; he made out he forget his cell phone and then did a U-turn to head back and lo, if he didn't remember within a minute or so that he had the cell phone in his pocket and reversed yet again. I told him he didn't have to change the route the second time as he was still pointed in a direction that took me back to my place. I got a blow-off excuse as to why he did this, and then I mentioned that this was the identical move that the fucking gangstalkers pull on me all the time, and why he found it so fucking funny. From then on, all I got from him was diversionary talk about his garage sale exploits, and then later his interest in relationships, with me doing most of the talking about unilateral reneging on implicit agreements. I had enough about that bullshit, and it seemed that we had the same complaint about spouses; taking us sideways without involving the other party in a decision reversal. Funny how I keep "finding" the same behaviour pattern, Ms. C and the ex as one example.

A restless feet episode means I will have to cease blogging for awhile.