A Two Day Weekend

1930h
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.

2235h
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.