Post Christmas Constipation Blues

12-29-2009
1645h

Back at my apartment building after a six day stayover at the First Feral Family home. Not that it was planned by me to be that long, as I intended for it to be some three days or so. But as the weather was so gloriously sunny, there was time to get onto cash paying grounds maintenance activities. Building the compost, a 4' high by 4' square stack of leaves, shredded leaves, household compostables and other plant material. It was layered with soil and an accelerant to get it composting, likely some months from now as it is too cold for much of this biologic activity that the perps are so vitally interested in. I had my usual suburbia noise accompaniments; overhead aircraft buzzing around, senseless diesel engine idling from two neighbors, whine from a nearby leaf blower, dog barking, children screaming and the hotrod muffler noise that has been so popular this year. They even put on a Saanich municipality fire truck emergency (just the one truck oddly) on Boxing Day, Dec. 26 no less, sirens and lights, and then returning about an hour later. In the long running parade of ladder bearing gangstalker vehicles, that is of course the largest one, and no doubt it serves extra duty to have the sirens and lights going simultaneously.

Regular readers will know that the 2009 compost building at the First Feral Family home was a success, and that weekly watering of the pile under the plastic tarp was essential. Not that I know much about composting, but I know more now, and it surely cannot be a coincidence that Ms. C of the story, the prior girlfriend (albeit aggravating at times), secured her Composting Master's training at the Everett community college during the pre-04-2002 overt harassment days. Funny how she has been getting "mind share" this past week, planted of course. And my mother asked about her too. But no Christmas card this year, and probably a whole three emails from her all year (and I respond), and why would I care about such an obvious shill/operative when I haven't seen her since 2003? My mother said she has "moved on" when I said we exchange the odd emails, offering a rare opinion that may be one of those masked statements of portent. Or could it be total bullshit? One never knows, and there are some very persistent perp mind planted notions as to who she really might be, and linkages to other cast members of the pre-04-2002 overt harassment onset days. None that I want to get into for now.
I suppose the above mentioned large composting pile served as a kind of reference (outdoors to indoors) for the perps, though I am rather curious that it might be related to the same reasons they are so beserk over my food digestion. The active flora would be very different between the two decomposition types, not to mention the colors and interaction rate, but there might be some underlying commonality that escapes me (or that I am not allowed to know at the present).

I started this blog last night at the First Feral Family home, on a PC that was made up of my old PC's (11-2009) motherboard and power supply. The hard drive, graphics board and case were new in the re-build then. And for whatever reason, Blogspot/Blogger wasn't stripped out like this version at my place as I write this, as well as the font set being different. I have one button for adding links, always a perp noisestalked event, and that is all the editing capability that I have save the native Windows Cut and Paste. Back to basics it would seem. And that is why I cannot see Followers, Other Blogs I Read and whatever other features that Blogspot/Blogger has, is because they don't display on this so-called dashboard, and there seems to be no conventional reason why. All my icons were stripped out in early 2009, and I went from memory (per planted ones I suspect), to effect the Blogspot features. I cannot even see how to add pictures in any more.

While there I did some Boxing Day Sale shopping online, and that set the stage for toilet blocking games immediately following making an online financial transaction. (And have I mentioned how often I get harassed, gangstalked and noisestalked while making a financial transaction?). A new downstairs low flow toilet had been installed in the partially renovated bathroom, and lo, if it didn't back up immediately, and spawn itself into a four day job to then be only cleared by the addition of bleach. The toilet was unplungeable due to its irregular throat, and that made it extra difficult to deal with matters. Then the plumber's snake couldn't get through the convoluted waste pathway.

Over some five days, and it even foamed up for two days after putting bleach in it. Then the one upstairs "self cleaned" with bleach too, as if in sympathy. And no end of mentioning the blocked toilet by my mother (putting on the ditz act), in "response" to everyone asking how the bathroom renovation was going, har, har. (Over the phone and in person).  Then visitations from Feral Family and friends were arranged while said toilet was in a state of mess as it couldn't be plunged due to new low flush design. (it was through the wall from the living room and down a half storey).

One of my mother's friends and her partner (my mother's term) came over, all to roil me with the red and yellow perp color theme; one dressed with each color, plus  ongoing sunlight/plasma and shade games to redden her face (wearing the red shirt) at times while talking to her, as if the shirt wasn't enough. This was during the pre-dusk time of 1500 to 1600h, a very common time where the perps put on their red color games. The visitors brought some items for gifts for my mother, in a freaking translucent red plastic bag that sat on the table outside the living room where we chatted for some two hours. And have I said how much I loathe the sight of translucent red plastics or rubber; and how often this particular color, material and light transmissive quality comes to bear as a prop in the gangtalking? The all time take-away on this one was the at the last residential apartment building I lived in from 05-2005 to 08-2006, 140 units, and they left a translucent red condom on the T-intersection of the walkway 6' outside the apartment block front doors for over a week, when the building grounds were groomed and cleaned at least three times per week. And for the last five days, the perps have been playing the image of the Goat's Head Soup album (Jagger with his head in a tight translucent yellowish plastic or rubber sheet) in mind for whatever reason. (I don't follow the Rolling Stones or their work much and there is no reason for such imagery to come to mind except by remotely invasive technology and with some theme in mind for which I have no conscious recollection).

Other major perp  themes were eating way too many cakes and cookies, and they do like me to indulge in high gluten foods at times, and this was it for the year, a whole week of it, and I still have some to finish up at my place. Hopefully I can get back to healthy chocolate tomorrow and keep my 20lb weight loss permanent, one of 2009's rare side benefits.

Other slings and arrows of the past week were on Christmas Day when helping my mother cook the turkey, supplying the muscle to heft it and flip it as needed. Then carving, something the perps always love me to do, even here with the cooked chicken I purchase. I cleaned my mother's kitchen counter three times that day, as the place is always a fucking mess with crumbs and spatter on things. Even the Purell and the dish soap containers needed to be cleaned for crissakes. The perps had me in an obsessive overdrive about mess, crumbs and lint all day. And if that wasn't bad enough, my mother in her ditz act must of crossed my path or stood in my way of where I intended to place myself some 80 times; Christmas from hell, being gangstalked and obstructed at every move all fucking day. And if I temporarily vacated a place at the kitchen counter while in the service of aiding dinner (for six all told), then she was standing in the very place I had vacated only seconds following me. Not only in the kitchen, but in the living room when I needed to get up and exit for any reason. Fucking tiresome it was, and I only got some reprieve the next day, and that bullshit act slowly diminished to near "normal gangstalking" levels at the First Feral Family home.

2330h
I normally keep good track of my few regular food items, and lo, if I didn't "discover" tonight (the sirens are going as I type this up, heard through my earmuffs), that the milk was way past its date, and the perp routinely exploit this, often souring the milk days in advance. So..., a force play to have me go to the local supermarket at 2130h, a 10 minute round trip from my apartment. And lo, if the Unfavored freakshow wasn't there in muted form; the ponytailed dude who "needed" to hop off the curb at the same moment as me jaywalking to get this fucker out of my sight, and then he quickened his pace to a short run so I could see his ridiculous ponytail in profile in the dim light, and bums outside the supermarket, and then two negroes (back to live specimens after a week of the TV version, especially the mug of that attempted Nigerian bomber on the Christmas Day flight), one female giving me the stare lining me up as she arrived from behind an aisle corner, and then a male who was loitering at the one location I needed to go to, the freaking goat milk section, and then finally I went for the checkout through the gauntlet of gangstalkers in the produce section. I paid cash this time, two blue five dollar bills, and that too is exciting stuff for the Fuckwits and their ongoing consumption with the color of my wallet contents.

Anyhow, I am going to wrap this one up; a few adds to the Consolidated TI World Link List, as I have been going through accumulated bookmarks tonight. I save them in a general folder to come back to, and tonight when I bookmarked worthy sites for inclusion into my more specific folders, why, the link just disappeared all by itself from the general folder. It is not the first time this has happened, but having someone doing my deleting in advance of me doing it is decidedly petty and pathetic.

And they have been extra active tonight in running plasma beams over top of my hands as I typed this blog tonight; an irregular varying width red beam from a millimeter to six millimeters sits over top of my hands by an inch for at least four seconds, time enough to be plenty sure. Then other colors, most frequently navy blue plasma beams over my hands.

This is a relatively high disruption occasion for the perps, me returning from a week away at the First Feral Family home to the same routines. They cannot get enough of me at those moments, returning from an absence to do the same boring stuff I always do. Go figure.