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.
2015h
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.
No comments:
Post a Comment