Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Composting With a Helicopter Escort + 11-22-2009 Updates

Back to one of the perps' very favorite themes, composting. The farm I am working at has a significant composting facility, and lo, if I wasn't shovelling and lugging it about in plastic crates. These stacking plastic crates number in the tens of thousands, and are being set up as the support, and then the containment for waist high growing beds in the greenhouse. One of the large greenhouses, about 120' x120', is being set up to grow tomatoes and cucumbers, and the empty crates needed to be brought in, arranged in an orderly fashion like Lego blocks, and then the digested compost filled ones were brought in for me to place on top. They were about 50lb when filled with compost, brought on pallets by the fork lift, so there was plenty of plastic action, me lugging them with the filled crate leaning on me, as well as plastering me with compost soil on my pants and sweater.

I was in the greenhouse for the first part of the day, lugging the compost filled crates and setting up empty ones, and at the end of the day in a howling wind storm, I was filling them with composted soil, (no smell). I was effectively swapping places with my laboring confreres, as they were on the lugging and plastic crate placement duty then. I don't have any TI complaints about the task, but the perps are beserk about both my exposure to plastics of all kinds, and too, compost. Long time readers will know that Ms. C of the story did her master composter's course, she being the planted girlfriend from 2000 to 2003. And I shovelled and seived a 3' heap of compost at my mother's place last week, so I reckon I have had plenty of "composting action" in the past week, but one never knows when it slips from a minor perp obsession to a relentless theme. I reckon they wanted to detect my compost interaction energetic signature in both locations, however they do it, and whatever they get out of it.

And my fourth pee of the morning was immediately following the compost in crates activity, with plenty of co-workers buzzing around me. It seems that the plastic interaction initiative of the perps is still going strong, as there will be even more people eating produce that gre in plastic crates, something that profoundly interests the perps as well. All packaging and growing situations for food, as well as irrigation water supply pipe types interests the perps as well. It is one of their more benign interests it would seem, as I don't usually get much hassle when actually slinging the compost. But they do like to add plastic scraps back into the pile when I expressly seived them all out when I created the pile at my mother's place. Who knew that a billion dollar/year budget covert agency would be so totally obsessed over compost, and that it would be an abiding component of their ongoing psychopathic life rape activities that passes for the normal TI experience.

I had at least two helicopters hovering overhead for my outside composting shovelling, and at least 12 float planes, many of them directly overhead and only a mile S. of the airport. They would of left Vancouver harbor, and are S. bound to Victoria harbor, passing within a mile of the airport. A little odd, having a flight path next to an airport, but I don't know where the designated flight paths are.

And by dint of good perp planning, the outside compost heap was directly lined up with a back road, and lo, if there wasn't at least 12 vehicles coming slowly down the hill, headlights ablaze, with me directly in their beam while at the compost heap. The one visible house also added to the light games by putting on all their outside lights at 1530h, most odd. Then when it was a little dimmer, around 1615h, the fork lift came by with its lights on, which was needless as one could see perfectly fine. But as all TI's know, the perps go to absurd lengths to keep us "in the beam', lights trained on us of varying kinds, bulb types, intensities and distances.

An unholy number of gangstalkers for a five minute sortie to the local supermarket in the ongoing windstorm. One pair of freaks reprised four times in the store, managing to end up in front of me at the checkout, and then the vile red/pink hatted woman of this (sort-of) couple was in lead-ahead gangstalk mode for the two streets that I take to my apartment. I got skunked on the bulk mixed salad again; it was wilted, and there were no viable alternatives. At the farm, I was to order a mixed salad for Friday, but I learned today it was picked over for a order. The ingestion and digestion of salad is a big deal for the perps, and they seem to be keeping me on a biweekly menu; eating it one week and having it "wash out" for the next. Infuriating, though this salad fixation only started a few months ago, as it had been dormant since about late 2004.

And I had my double freak escort at the ATM at 0700h this morning, just before getting on the bus which had extra freaks on board as well. Only a check deposit, but that is indeed exciting for the perps. They had the leaf blower dude out, of no apparent affiliation (not a city maintenance worker), the third one for a six minute city walk. Never mind that it was patently absurd with the wind storm still playing. Regular readers will know the perps like me to be around wind currents, vacuum cleaners and blowers, and I suspect this is true for most TI's, as it may fit the theory of there being "vortex energies" all about us, and creating a localized version is a way to possibly highlight some extra energetic interaction with the victim.

What is with the freaky glove colors that are getting presented for me to see? Green, blue, purple, you name it, the perps ensure they go through the distance dependent checks as to my reaction and how it may vary by distance. One one case of green gloves some 25' away, the person was talking to me and waving their hand around, and lo, if a same green plasma flash didn't erupt either side of the gloves.

Another day of lugging 30" long x 18" x 12" deep plastic crates filled with compost and placing them in waist high rows on top of other crates in the greenhouses. I learned that 9,000 strawberry plants are on order, and when planted two/crate, that means some 4,500 crates will have to be manually filled by my shoveling compatriots. Each crate is supported by four crates stacked below it, so that amounts to 18,000 plastic crates I will have walked past, and a lesser amount for handling to build the stacks and then the compost filled one on top.

Then I noticed that 80% of the said crates come with one or more corners slathered in a shit-brown clay. Not only does it look the right color, but has the same wetted look to it. There is no rational explanation as to how this clay got there, as it is not at the compost pile, so how did it get there when it isn't even a local clay? The perp's shit games take a new turn.

A raging storm today, as well as driving wind to stir things up. I left work early as I usually do on Thursdays to get to my evening Oracle courses, this one on PL/SQL.

And how did this negro kid in the heart of white Central Saanich get ahead of me at two bus stops? He took the slow bus (#75) departing at 1543h from the same stop (Saanichton Exchange) that I was waiting at, and 8 minutes later I took the more direct routed bus (#73) (1551h) and there he was at the Royal Oak bus exchange. I looked up the schedule and he would of got there 16 minutes later after my bus had departed. He does his hang dog loitering act at the bus stop until my bus leaves (with me seated on the right side to witness this chicanery), and lo, if he isn't loitering at the downtown bus stop prior to mine, "somehow" getting ahead of the bus again. That he had a hoodie in the same blue as my jacket wasn't a fluke, but how did he twice get ahead of the bus when I was on the most direct and fastest route?

More lugging of 60lb plastic crates all day, each full of composted soil. In the latter part of the day I was directed to join my laboring compatiots outside on crate shovelling duty, and then we all enjoined in placing them on the stacked crates. So.... after a near whole day of being in the greenhouse in crate & soil reception, I was part of the all-together change in work assignment.

A late day storm came on then, forcing me to wear the dayglo orange raincoat, and with the earlier sunsets, the perps pulled a very sudden dusk onset, darkening the clouds within minutes, and then putting on a rare thunderstorm for this area. They then arranged darker plasma beams around me, a relatively new phenomenon, but I suppose they wanted some contrast data, and the accelerated dusk onset was part of their jerking around at this time of day, and the red color fixation that goes with it. I had plenty of others clustering around me while back in the greenhouse in my dayglo rain jacket, so I wasn't ignored while this herding was going on.

How is it that my attempt to load Carbonite Backup failed, even after disabling the antivirus program to accomodate the installation? More games and jerkarounds it would seem.

Most of my day got derailed onto composting activities at my mother's place this time. Back to the perp's abiding interest in this topic. I borrowed the leaf grinder from my ex and ran the leaves through it. Naturally a number of things "went wrong", per usual. The trimmer string suddenly came off at one point, necessitating an installation of new string. The always-happens-to-me thing again, as I have never run one before. If the perps are arranging games over composting, one can be sure the harassment has at least 8 months or so to run, as this is how long composting will take (in a heap, and including latencies for not getting around to the compost dig over in a timely fashion). And the perps are especially interested in me repeating this year's composting underneath the black plastic sheet. And too, they like me walk over the level ground where this year's compost heap was until I sifted it two weeks ago.

I thought I would have a lazy day putzing at home here, but no, my mother somehow recalled that I was keen to get the leaf grinder (like a stationary string trimmer) from the ex and put all the leaves through it. (And too, this commitment was "forgotten", something that never normally occurs). Cold and windy it was, and thankfully I had my warm coat with me, the long travelled microfiber coat and warm grey fleece inside. This coat was my abiding companion in the intense harassment days of fall and winter 2002, and has kept me warm in many vehicle sleep-outs the assholes have pulled on me at the time, as they wouldn't always let me stay in my apartment because the head pain beams were so intense. Then the doctor at the time got great mileage out of this detail, attempting to cast this activity into a larger clinical picture. Funny how the doctor knew to home in on this detail.

More restless legs nonsense again; I never had such a problem until the harassment started. And a bout of nodding off as I write this is also coming on. I will attempt to post this blog now, before something else erupts.

FYI; a few add-ons in the above posting if you are coming to read this for the second time.

I won't get to do a separate posting today as there will be an afternoon First Feral Family visit soon, and I want to get back to the PL/SQL course study again, something that is now very obviously perp constrained.

Last night's restless legs and general restlessness culminated in a never-before 2130h bed time, unheard of unless ill. Then a 12 hour sleep, getting up at 0930h, another never-before sleep duration, but a good way to constrain study time this morning.

And I see from my email that three comments in my blog were posted but NOT moderated or accepted by me. I get at least six comments per day, many of them spamming and also in an unreadable foreign language that I routinely delete and never post. But as of today, I am getting comments posted that I did not moderate or accept. Funny how this bullshit "happens" to me all the time. The comments cannot be deleted once posted, or at least on this version of Blogspot I get to see.

An excellent posting by Wise TI about the realities of dealing with law enforcement and other allied assholes of the perp criminality.

More additional bloggings after this was posted.

Leaf raking with the First Feral Family this afternoon, the Feral Fossils (aka parental quislings, the ones that gave me up for this fucking hell from the get-go) and I. I also operated the leaf grinder, and there were bountiful red colored leaves to process, unlike yesterday's predominance of brown colored leaves. And need I say that there was extra similar deep red colored vehicle gangstalking when we were all in the vehicle at 1630h, near dusk onset? Plus there was the bright red plastic housing of the leaf grinder inside the vehicle as we ventured on after dropping off my father at the care home to my ex's place, the owner of the leaf grinder. Just too much red opportunity for the sickos. The leaf grinding is for the preparation of a new compost heap at my mother's place, not unlike the one I built this year. As always, there will be some variations on the compose theme at the First Feral Family home; more red leaves, more worms from the kitchen waste pile, and so it goes; combinations and permutations ad nauseum.

Only to be followed by my walk to the bus stop and the bus trip back to my place where ever more red vehicles were in extra frequent proximity to the bus. The perps also seem to get great mileage out of dimming the lighting conditons so that I can barely percieve red at night, save the over-utilized brake lights of course. Not too many freaks on the bus tonight, though about 15 others on board, and one shooting a strange glance at me. I had a two cell phone escort for the most of the bus trip, so I am sure there was much more to it than I am aware of. The hoodie dudes got pulled early in the bus trip; the perps have me reactive to this mode of dress now, when it wasn't a big deal a year ago. I wonder if this has subconscious traumatization associations as well.

And more forced "emo-trashing" tonight over the TV news; these are event where the assholes make me much more emotional over the stories when I never cared much before they went overt on me since 2002. And then they played the same story twice on two affiliated news broadcasts, just what I needed. Time to get this posted and done with.

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