Wednesday, March 31, 2010

Email is Down

No Yahoo email currently, obviously some glitch somewhere, that may or may not be perp related. Though, if you follow my line of thinking, and are aware of the degree of containment I am kept in, nothing is a coincidence. What might be of relevance isn't clear. I always boot up Firefox with four tabs, Yahoo, IMDB, Amazon and Google pages at the ready. One of the four isn't availible, so who knows why that might be important to the perps. They will sabotage wires, routers and power bars to change the color, wire configuration and components of what the signals and electricity flows through, but again, I don't know why, save that it fits the pattern of chasing me with all colors of all things, and all juxtapositions.

A First Feral Family outing with my mother this morning, going to two garden suppy nurseries, and purchasing a flowering current at one location, and four junipers at the next. Then, we turn around and go and have a coffee with the swarming gangstalkers, and then back to her place. Exciting moment for perps this, especially when travelling at speed on the highway, something I don't get to do much, not owning a vehicle. I am getting blanked on any over-the-top vehicular gangstalking recollections, but they did put on the usual heavy transporters; petroleum products tanker with pup trailer, large tractor trailer propane delivery tanker, the largest redi-mix concrete delivery trucks, and large refuse haulers. Again, they were heavy on the red vehicle colors, and even tagged me on the city bus when heading to my mother's place by putting a red anorak wearing female Fuckwit immediately behind me 2/3rd's into the journey. It used to be that if I parked next to a red vehicle they would whisk it away inside of minutes when my back was turned. So this represents a new escalation of "red attacks". I also see the appearence of Alberta licence plates on the proximate vehicles, red text on a white background. Then they put it behind a Washington State licence plated vehicle, with only "Washington" in red text, the plate text in black (?) on a blue and white background. It isn't tourist season here by a long shot, so I assume these vehicles were arranged around me for the licence plate colors they proffered. More excitement for the assholes.

And of course with  red flowered Red Flowering Currant bush in the back, why, it is a huge deal for the assholes to get red color coordination, whatever that means, from inside the vehicle to outside, presumably for botanical material as there are so many red leaf flushing plants at this time of year, the Photina and the Pieris being prominent.

And on the city bus on the way back, a red cotton jacketed woman in front of me for most of the trip, again, a new escalation of placing red dressed Fuckwits around me. There was even a slanging match between two dudes on the bus, one having shoved the other due to personal space infringements, and I wasn't involved in it thank goodness. But some 40 bus passengers on the bus at 1330h from suburbia to downtown is a freaking joke when they come every 10 to 15 minutes. And despite most seats having two passengers on them, they seemed to know to leave me alone and not have anyone for the entire 25 minute bus trip. Which is the way I like it, as the assholes are often pumping body odor into my nose, and seating a Fuckwit immediately besdie me would of been a big excuse to elevate that minor side of the harassment diaspora.

An the most bizarre perp prop I have seen to date, some dude brings on an native Indian ceremonial paddle onto the bus, not wrapped up, and the featured side facing me as he walked up the aisle. It had reflective copper colored paint on it, something that one doesn't see much, and unlikely to be any bit traditional. The paddle was painted in a flat black, and had many fine detailed designs in red, white and copper color. Totally beserk to say the least, but more of the copper color theme it would seem. Ever since I started throwing away my pennies, this kind of nonsense has increased. Obviously they needed to expose the entire bus of Fuckwits to it as well; normally pennies will arrive from nowhere to be at my feet or on the window sill if it is just me they want for copper prop games.

Then after getting off the bus I walk two blocks to the LD store and what a massive gangstalking it was, and they put on checkout obstruction and choked down the number of checkouts. I had my freaks around me, one being the 4'10" Phillipino woman with the black toque with a peak on it, a strange head piece for this town, but one the perps bring out every week or so for me to be exposed to for whatever reason they have. And a granny leaving her walker in the way of the too tight aisles while putzing with the shopping baskets, just plain perverse for how busy the store was with oncoming waves of Fuckwits arriving. And too, my Asian chocolate stalker dude (where the chocolate was in the aisle) also came to join me at the checkout I was waiting at with nothing in hand. Which might mean that he was waiting to get cigarettes from the cashier, so why was he perambulating deep into the store where the chocolate was? Go figure, though the brown color reference rationale seems to fit, this time being skin color.

A Chicken Run to the local supermarket earlier; the sickos had me nap for 45 min. beforehand after napping me in the seated position while at this PC. They would script 10 to 30 second long "drop outs" where I would be cognitively unaware, and I have no idea if my eyes were open or not. I would not be surprised if they kept my eyes open to have the effect of seen colors but without any cognitive registration. They seem to be pushing on this front, having me not see something that is behind something else and then reveal it for a second or two and hide it again. This would be testing the effect of something, colors, material type etc, without it being seen, and then comparing the neural correlates to that of seeing the object. I call it "peekaboo games", and the First Feral Family are long time masters at this stupid fuckery, and deserve Quisling Hell for this alone.

Then when headed to the supermarket, I went through the plastic covered floors again, the masking for the upcoming painting job, and had three tobo dudes lined up along the back of the elevator when it arrived. And with this hallway floor covered in plastic, and the elevator indicating that this was the 6th floor, the center dude starts walking toward me to get out as I am about to go in. The perps made sure I saw his well shined army boots and seemed to dither me in a way as to all that I saw in some strange congitive aberation, and then one of the guy's pals pulled him back and explained to him that it was the Main floor they wanted. Like WTF; why is it I get one or two of these a month, when some Fuckwit want to get out of the elevator prematurely and right in front of me, and then steps back, the accidentally-on-purpose stunt, increasing the elevator gauche behavoir I get in greater quantities than BOH (Before Overt Harassment) in 04-15-2002?

An evening spenrt first perusing jobs, always begetting noisestalking the instant I recognize an employer or name from long ago. Then that spun into looking at organic farms and the certified programs and where they are located and what they produce. I once owned a small acreage with the ex, but that was a financial disaster, and I often wonder what is the perp's interest in organic growing, as this seems to come up frequently, organic sourced foods and food processors. Ditto for fair trade foods.

This one is done for the evening; the itchy foot perturbations are increasing, so it is time to call it a day.

Tuesday, March 30, 2010

Fractious Breakfast

A 0700h get-up with prior noise and me plugging my ears while still horizontal. Which is like how they sent me off to sleep after an hour of jerking me around, having me hold my right hand to my temple to ameliorate the temple pain they were invoking. They would bring on the pain within five seconds of a new hand position, so the (managed, per mind fuck) solution was to keep moving my head and my hand to avert "lock on", changing the dynamic enough to avert the pain. I haven't had one of these for some years, but one can be sure the real agenda was to have me do exactly that, and the chi energy off the ends of my fingers and from my hands likely had a role in creating more interference with neural energies. And as the temple region, and the interior temporal lobe region seems to be the big research interest as that is where the amygdala tissue resides, last night's abuse on the end of a high Fuckover Monday fits the pattern. And they zapped me beforehand as well, coordinated with an overhead thump. How many times have I said how much I fucking loathe being zappped, and they still don't get it.

There were some extra vivid prior dreams before waking up, and I was even allowed to recall a person's first name afterward, though of no known association in real life. And then when replacing my underwear they like to pull down in the night they had my hand slip off and snap back, and that was the opening salvo in a long running rage-ifcation through the breakfast and morning hygeine routine. Keeping the Monday abuse running it seems; faked touches, vision impairment for both cereal and coffee handling (both brown colored substances, note), then putting a hole in the bread for the crumbly coconut butter to fall through, then streaking the plate with the jam that strangely flicked about, and later in the bathroom, pulling their long running stunt of whacking me in the dick with the towel. I have a particular style of towelling down after every shower of controlling the end of the towel to prevent these extra-conventional kinetic abuses, and just when the towel was still, but four inches away, they whacked me anyway. I was fucking screaming infuriated over that, as the game of abuse and countermeasure was violated by escalating the depravity. Naturally, all my defences are compromised, and I was made to be unknowing of the danger of the towel end at that moment. Once, without a towel in hand, they whacked me in the dick with some unseen force field, and that too was cause for a round of screaming fury that won't be ever forgiven until the fucker's head is pancake shaped after applying some needed "realignment" with a baseball bat. Study that brain material you fucking asshole, and leave mine alone.

Once online, the physical temptations seem to be lessened, but the vision fucking can continue, along with noisestalking from above, not to mention the infernal typo jerkarounds that go on. They had me studying keyboards again, something that I did 2.5 years ago to get this Fujitsu membrane board, but now they seem to want me to get a key switch board. Like WTF; no job, this bullshit disability income that is always $200 to $400 short every month, and the likelihood that it will cease this year, and I am still sabotaged in all the Oracle DBA study work I want to do. My mother hinted at no IT job until the fall, and I can take that as a given, so what is the deal in the six month interim? Berry picking was a total jerkaround last year as they wanted to keep me out of the sun, for the fewer days they wanted me in it, and then laid me off in mid-season saying they didn't have enough work. It was the start of the Mexican comparison/interaction it seemed, as a crew of Mexicans were hired for the season, and having me work among them seemed to be a big part of it. Later in the fall at a different farm, and picking vegetables mostly, there were three Mexicans I sometimes worked with, so it wasn't too much of a surprise that this repeated for two weeks in Feburary thi year for daffodil picking. One week of work, the Mexicans came, and one more week of work (albeit keeping them mostly separated and further away), and then I was laid off again. It is fucking absurd that I cannot be allowed to have a job while the sickos piss around with staging Mexicans and other brown skinned races around me, now closing in on eight years of this beserk abuse. Go fuck your own.

Last fall, they even hired a negro laborer from Montreal at the farm for crissakes. Like WTF; no end of labor locally, and even some negroes, some of whom I worked with and talked to, and then they bring one from Montreal to work on a farm in rural Saanich. But as I have mentioned many times, there is a strong Montreal component to this abuse, as I had lived in Montreal for two years out of my first five. Most of that time has been deleted from my memories, but the ongoing gangstalking freakshow parade, as consistent as it is relentless, indicates a number of subconcious traumatization associations from that era which relate to clinical, interpersonal and possibly sexual abuse. The latter is slowly emerging, or more like, allowed to come into focus; more hints of late, e.g. crotch grabbing males in public, and even a woman doing this yesterday for crissakes. The sickos also like to meter my few glimpses of myself in the mirror when in the bathroom with no clothes on, and this has been very consistent of late, so it does make me wonder what that is all about. Ms. C of the Story liked to do certain things I didn't find comfortable, and I suspect this too might have been managed down to my every reaction at the time. Regular readers have read all this before; am I repeating myself too much?

A cognitive fuckover in attempting to penetrate the Linux file system earlier. Do l load Oracle from root or from a user id? Seeing that the episode was about pissing me off and stopping me from getting on with what I had intended, I am totally pissed that I am not allowed to load the software that I want, when I want. Never mind the cognitive sabotage. Just more imposed futility.

The all day shut-in and then the extra gangstalking attention when I get out to go to the bus for my evening course. A parade of fat girls, shiftless males, dayglo (clothed) dudes, and a few other freaks. On the outbound bus I sat in my usual rear-most  driver side corner and the bus filled up with the litany of freaks, again, one blind man with a seeing eye dog and two negroes among the motley crew. Then with all the seats nearly filled up, I get this strange E. Indian woman with no chin and her mouth hanging open, clasping a marimba type instrument, a wood box with some steel plucking tines on it, and she sits down extra close. The rear seat is a bus-wide bench and she sits near me, and then turns her back to me to show her brown backpack to me, on her white puffy jacket. As soon as I could, I snagged the bench seat over the rear wheel well to get away from this freak. I also ended up avoiding the sight of the dreadlock haired couple, most strange that both had their hair matted in cords. The only downside was having the Map Tube Dude across from me, legs splayed wide with the full 30" map tube facing me broadside. Said dude normally takes the 2135h bus back with me, and lo, if class didn't finish early, and lo, if he wasn't there for the return trip on the 2105h bus, a fellow traveller to be sure.

Other oddities in the class were two students near me who weren't there tonight, my behind me and L. of me neighbors, thought that is for the good owing to their respective propensities of making sneezing and pen cap clicking noises. But instead, the E. Indian to the R. of me did at least 35 min. of sneezing and snorting with white kleenex (a very common gangstalker prop), in hand before then end of class. We are running an extra class this week to make up time, but we started 15 min. late today, and left 30 min. early. Last class also ended 30 min. early, so WTF?

Then the inbound bus had the cell phoning gangstalking E. Indian woman nearby, with a sleazoid E. Indian male talking to her and arranging himself to be blocking me from seeing her, and talking the entire 25 min. bus ride. This alignment of the male, blocking the female, both E. Indians wasn't too surprising given their above mentioned gangstalking tonight. Both wore black, and he had his back facing toward me when the seat was 90 degrees offset. These "lean overs" with back twists are becoming more frequent of late, and to have the gangstalker talking the entire time is also extra energetic I suspect. Behind me I had the cell phoning dude, giving me the stare for some reason when I got up to leave with a posse of five of them around me.

Let's see; my brother is married to an E. Indian, over ten years now, and my other brother hangs out with a Thai woman. When the assholes incarcerated me they had an E. Indian steal my clothes from the dryer, and when I cruised in for breakfast he was wearing my black shirt. I raised the issue with the nurse and got it back, but I was rather amazed at this transparent stunt at the time. Now I know; the perps have a brown color problem, and having brown skin makes it all the more problematic. So what does it have to do with me for crissakes?

One of the very first abductions in the US by aliens was on a mixed race couple, Benny and Betty Hill, he negro, and she Cacausian, back in 1961. So if this is connected to the perps current harassment and abuse campaign, which I think it is, they have been dicking around close to 50 fucking years with mixed races and skin color interactions, (whatever they are) and still won't come out of the closet. Instead, after they finished jamming multi-race children in cages in 1956 to 59, (The Indian Lake Project), the assholes decide that abduction of mixed race adults is what they would do next. Who knows what covert games continued until now, but what is so fucking important that the perps cannot get their sick asses out of the closet and start cooperative research to expedite their agenda?

Enough ranting, and onto plant nursery visitations tomorrow with my mother, which should be a gangstalking nightmare for all the road traffic that will likely erupt.

Monday, March 29, 2010

Monday In Red

A rather unusual Monday high harassment day, though starting out at the First Feral Family residence this morning after a sleepless night and plenty rain and wind bursts, though calm by morning time. I wanted to get a LInux book at the bookstore  not too far, and my mother wanted to come too, so I drove down to Hillside Mall. And lo, at 0950h, what a major confluence of vehicular gangstalking, even putting on the "big iron, a commercial delivery truck with a red and while forklift on the back, and a cargo of windows that just seemed to be driving around as there wasn't any now builiding going on where it came from or was going to. It and the sedan behind it made no bones about preceding me in making a right turn and staying on me for at least three more blocks. Then the swarms of red, white, silver grey, black and mid-grey tones came on. Hillside mall opens for shopping at 0930h, and at 1000h the parking lot was jammed all over, also arranged heavy to the same colored vehicles. Then a few tractor trailer "deliveries" in the public area also added to the gangstalking-scape. Then my mother wanted to park at the furthest reaches of the parking lot to then walk the full length of it again, this time with the wandering hordes of gangstalkers, also out in similar colors, save the silver-grey.

The freaking bookstore was loaded with the freaks of the Unfavored, in the same color schemes, and pissed my off by relocating the computer books section in a corner I wasn't allowed to notice, and when asking the black and grey horizontally banded sweater wearing clerk, the perps wouldn't let me say the word "computer" at first, pulling some kind of throat twinge off at that very instant. Another Fuckover stunt on top of another one, but that is how it started this morning, having me intensely pissed with at least 50 faked touches at breakfast this morning. The big excitement might of been that I started a new jar of cashew butter this morning, having taken it there yesterday.

Then with four bus routes on Shelbourne at Hillside, no buses came for 10 minutes, most strangely, and I walked it into downtown, taking an hour. The assholes don't usually let me get this much exercise at once any more, but for whatever reasons, they did. The Photina hedges were out in red colors along the route, so that might of been the big excitement for the perps. Recall that in the fall farm job they regularly rotated me from red kale, to green kale picking, and the same for cabbages. Obviously these plant compounds are still a hot research topic, be they seen, handled or eaten in the case of salads. They haven't let me have a salad for two months, so maybe this was the BIG DAY for anthocyanins, and other phenolic compounds in plant material. I noticed they placed a just-picked plant leaf on my floor just after I got back, so they are still as beserk as they are relentless on plant biophotonic, biochemistry and biophysical interactions. To that I say, go fuck your own kind if you want to do plant research.

There are plenty enough of the fuckers out gangstalking, and if each of them ate a bucket of salad and drove themselves around town on contra-concentric routes, I am sure that the sickos wouldn't need to fuck with me, ever. Better yet, have half the operatives eat green kale, half eat red, and dress them in reds and greens, for a 4-way combination of redcoat with red kale, redcoat with green kale and ditto for the greencoats. (Or split them into white pants and green pants for a 9-way combination). March them up and down the streets in a guitar band, and then have them drive up and down the highway for some high speed anthocyanin interaction games along with the usual fleets of tractor trailers, cranes and the like. Lay down plant material on the road, of all possible phenolic compound combinations, and then have them drive the highway in reverse. Then have the odd sacrificial shill crash and spill his guts on the road and then have the white and red ambulances come out and scrape them up after leaving them for an hour, all the while arranging on/off rain squalls. Have the First Feral Family as the paramendics, and be sure to put my dementia act father on driving duty after clearing the highway of all traffic, even if it is divided. He might even succeed in driving the ambulance to his long care home/hospital. Did I get enough perp activity designed into that experiment suggestion? I am sure a few more will come to mind. Maybe add controls for a 16-way combination, or is that my role? If it is, give it a rest for all time, starting now.

Did I say that the perp harassment gets stupider and stupider? And just to think that waving palm fronds around at Palm Sunday in the Vactican yesterday would help any.

More stupid shit at the bookstore was having a red headed woman "staff" member circle my mother and I as I was about to depart for the city bus shortage stunt, mentioned above. This particular gangstalker had already made two appearences, so getting an encircling was over the top.

It is the week of redhead action I predict; at the First Feral Family residence I saw the women's international curling match between Scotland and Germany, and did we have enough redheads on the two teams? I counted three of eight team members, but there might of been another one. But of course they had to have a few blondes too, and that was all for the better. And get this, they even messed with the feed to show a redhead that was totally irrelevant to the action, intersplicing her just when the blonde was about to throw the rock for example. The German redhead had a minor blowup at the end of the 10th end when the Scottish blonde scooped a point for at tie, but that could of just been the game, not the perps.

Then more TV later, Prime Suspect with Helen Mirren, a heavy negro appearence in the cast, making me wonder what on earth has happened to the UK, and that was filmed in the early 1990's.Add a Manchester accent and I could hardly make out what they were saying much of the time, Helen Mirren as Tennyson excepted. She was at her hectoring, browbeating and irritable best in this role, but what I cannot figure out is why so many people thought this characterization was so compelling in its day. Give me Rebus any time.

A round of two internet orders, getting screwed out getting a particular book locally, hence online, hence another book to get the total over the minimum threshold for free shipping, and away we go, another form of going into red.

Then paying two bills online, also a with the augmentation of noise from outside. The sickos cannot get enough of me making financial transactions, all the way from onine bill payment to coin slots on the laundry machines. Exciting times for them, its just I wish I knew what it was all about. I am sure someone knows.

More on the red theme today, and a news item that I was unaware of until I read it in the Daily Telegraph, paper edition. Our media in North America didn't mention it as far as my limited online world news troving goes. But given the perp's preoccupation with getting blood samples from me, and the one time street assault as well; not to mention blood having magnetic properties, that it must be confounding the perps who are irradiating me with magnetic energies as to what EMF signature is coming from where; neural activity, muscle activity, or all that blood coursing around in me. The nature of the unfortuneate school massacres, and other bloody purgings including that of the theaters of armed conflict, lead me to suspect the perps have a hand in these events. So... it is almost humane to witness this protest [warning: graphic] of these red wearing protesters in Thailand, carrying jugs of their own blood, to then dump at the palace gates as a measure of protest. I just seems to fit the pattern is all I am saying. Though SE. Asia has seen some brutal conflicts this past 50 years; Vietnam (French and US versions, the latter involvement making no strategic sense whatsoever), Laos, and Cambodia. I just find it interesting that civil protest is being carried out in this manner, and it may just become a trend is all I am suggesting.

An evening doing job site browsing, something I haven'd done for at least four months, and I even fired off two resumes, no doubt of interest to my mind keepers, who noisestalk these kinds of activities with significant attention.

An interesting turn of phrase I came across in my earlier web trovings;

a consensual hallucination (a term from novelist William Gibson).

Might this apply to the clinical community who insist that all these covert abuses of abduction and harassment are clinical? The same assholes pulled this stunt over Morgellon's Disease even when looking at physical evidence. I would love to be a fly on the wall at their conventions and the nature of the discussions that must surely evolve over the future directions of their profession.

Enough putzing and onto a likely sleepless few hours in bed as my tormentors extend my Monday awake time into the night.

Sunday, March 28, 2010

Coconuts Among TI's

Its coconut season for some TI's it seems; I started my jar of coconut butter today, and I see that one forum for TI's has a piece on the health benefits of coconut oil, internally and externally. There is no question the perps are focussed on the digestion and interaction of various oils, as they have me eating peanut butter each breakfast, save the odd change of hazelnut, cashew, and macadamia nut combinations. Now, for at least a few months, it will be coconut butter for reasons best known to them; color, chemical properties and their physiologic interactions and who knows what else. It goes to show that some of their research is long term, and intended to apply to the human race as a whole, or at least, that is the picture I am drawing from this.

And I see that pop-up games are increasing on this PC, even when I have the pop-up blocker activated; all to interupt my typing, as well as have it obstructed and having to restart anew after also getting cognitively  screwed as to where in the text to resume. These visual interuptions have been increasing, and it seems the perps are intensely interested in the action of starting, or re-starting something, especially writing and reading. Sudden page flopping in the few recent books I was allowed to read were in excess of normal, broadening the scope of their "initiation, completion, interuption and resumption" neural and psychic energetics research it seems. Call it activity engagement energetics research for now.  It has also been noted that the perps have been intensely focussed on completion of tasks as well, often having me find yet more errors in a document and then re-printing it yet again. A more recent example was the farm work of last fall, when break times were arranged just before task completion, or someone would finish my task, or arrive when I was near completion. I cannot count the times they have pulled the stunt of embedding errors in documents to force a re-print, but it too increased substantially since they went overt-beserk in 04-2002. Who knew a multi-billion dollar/year covert agency would be so perverse as to life-rape victims over what they started, finished and the rest of the interim phases for their entire lives.

A Sunday today, and it will be a shorter post as I will be heading off to do my First Feral Family duties and incite another round of gangstalking and harassment fury on the folowing Monday and likely further into the week. It seems that they make discoveries there (where I stayover Sunday night) that they wish to make elsewhere, especially this here apartment where they have me staying close to three years now, a singular exception since 1996 when at most it was 18 months in one location of 12. A number of the gangstalkers in the lobby and elevator, as well as the one who tailed me from the elevator to the supermarket entrance, have the comportment of my mother, though seeming quite differently facially. I would of not come to the notion of morphing or shape-shifting if the perps hadn't slowly brought me around to it, keeping the comportment, head shape and hair color the same of my thought-to-be confreres, and changing their face just a little. Then they added in speech accents being totally different of the slightly facially morphed individual as well, another of their I-got-it demonstrations they led me through in the earlier harassment years of 2003 to 2006. And too, they like to noisestalk me over when these concepts and capabilities come to mind, or when I am writing about them, as in having a siren occur outside and getting through the earmuffs I am currently wearing.

A short post as I will be leaving soon, First Feral Family duties and all that, none of which I would participate in if it weren't for the mind fucking games that are scripted for me. With one exception, I cannot think of a more least likely candidate to do the bidding of a psychopath, or worse yet, an organized psychopathic agency, but here I am.

An interesting web site of Emma Woods and her trials and tribulations of the alien abduction experiences, and that with the supposed researcher who seems to have been exercising his own agenda. I cannot think of a more variable and fractious community than the alien abduction researchers, and just when adherence to the facts is all essential, they fuck up. I call it credibility compromised by design, to wax conspiratorial for a moment. But the real reason for this link inclusion is the fact that Emma Woods has a very good memory, forming permanent memories at one year of age, and yet has some profound absences of recall for very threatening or strange events, the least likely time that anyone could forget something. In other words, recall deletion is doable even on those who have  excellent recall faculties. Have a look, especially if interested in the parallels of alien abductions and visitations to those of TI's, who deal with the experimentation at an all-day, every-day level.

Off to FFF games and interactions, as well as my weekly dose of TV (read, CRT magnetic field) and whatever Unfavored specimen/feature is selected. Negroes and wheelchairs have been big for the last two months, so perphaps a different Unfavored freak-du-jour on TV tonight.

Saturday, March 27, 2010

Linux Arrives

The fruition of installing Linux in a removable hard drive has succeeded in the face of some two months of obstructions. Not to mention prior attempts to install a removable hard drive in 2003 which amounted to zip as I never got a second hard drive, even if I did have the spare trays and rack. This is just the warm up cookie though, as I will install Oracle database 11g once I figure out how to do so. Then I will have to figure out how to set up the printer, as it should of been identified by the system as it is a USB connected device.

But I am amazed at all the screen colors and features that are now visible, especially in this Blogspot, as the Windows version has them all removed. If I can figure out how to move files from one file system to another, I might be able to load pictures here again, as I see the full set of command icons is restored. It is kind of like living in a cave and then finding oneself in a Neiman Marcus store one day. And I see that I have four followers, thank you all.

The RMA drive parcel was pried out of the managers office again, after they had it for two days, and didn't leave a phone message. And this blogging is getting impossible  as the display of the characters is  two to five seconds after I press the key, and when one is sabotaged with typos at every other word, it is a totally disfunctional situation to type in. Back to Windows.

More downloading of Oracle software, as the files are huge. Then the file for instructions is 350Mb.

Plenty of abuse this morning when doing the breakfast routine; it started out by a forced "forget" on procuring more milk yesterday, and I was only allowed to know when the cereal and the added hemp seed (legal here) were in the bowl. Tap water was the only alternative at that juncture and it was none too pleasant which might of been the perps messing with my taste sensations as they like to do, all to arrange for more hemp seeds to go down the drain, as usually (with milk), I eat them all up. They also got me cranked up with the peanut butter and jam on the toast again, a regular every day event. They create lots of clanging noise of the knife on the jar when there is no visible contact.

One can discern that extra abuse and stunts are bound to occur later as it happens more often on days that I cut my finger nails or toe nails. In either case they go down the toilet, and given that they perps ripped up the streets to lay in two newer sewer lines within the year that I moved to this location, and send their Fuckwits down the manhole covers when I come back from absences, it stands to reason that my nail cuttings (and other substances, especially brown ones) are of signifcant interest, especially when they are travelling in the drains below street level.

Then this afternoon's tea time was interleaved with fetching the parcel (read, brown cardboard box) with the new hard drive in the manager's office at the lobby level. They had a motorized wheelchair case immediately outside the elevator that I had to go around, and then she motored into the elevator and was gone thankfully. (Have I said this week how much I loathe wheelchairs in all their incarnations?). Then a blonde woman came tripping into the lobby, and lo, if I didn't have her and the assistant manager accompanying me in the other elevator on the way up. She was doing her stare-at-the-LCD-device act, very common of late, this one being a cell phone. After tea and chocolate I attended to the parcel, then had to go online and get more instructions as none came inside, and it provided the packing materials to put the dead hard drive back in the box, and then take it to UPS. The parcel came with this deep blood red paper that was the warehouse picker's check sheet, but as it was inside a brown box in my apartment while eating brown food (chocolate), it surely must of been there for color combination games, as the perps are so dogged about exposing me to such, e.g. above mentioned peanut butter and jam. UPS is the brown van outfit of course, and with brown chocolate in me, and holding a brown box for a block, it was way too much bait for the perps. I had the blonde dude on the stare-at-the-LCD-device duty in the elevator on the way down, augmented with one of those stupid vertical chin beards. Then the usual plethora of red/plum color dressed gangstalkers about, heading in two cardinal directions while the box was in hand, and at least another 20 freaks of varying kinds, the last being a skinhead who just "happened" to be exiting a store and getting ahead of me by 5', and lugging a big black duffle bag for some reason. I had only 20' to go to the UPS store, and they put this fugly skinhead on me. Then a brown skinned male at the counter of UPS, and the wretched (yellow and brown) forms to fill out, and then to be dinged for $26 to send the parcel ground freight for crissakes, to a domestic address no less. (The RMA arrangement says one must use a trackable courier). Another monetary hit by the perps to deal with their fucking sabotage IMHO. The downside of "warranties" is taking the hit for shipping their faulty, (or sabotaged) gear back.

After exiting the UPS store nearby, two male redshirts were on gangstalking duty, walking in 90 degree offset cardinal directions, and around the corner a ridiculous woman with a wheeled tote luggage that was exactly aligned with my intended ambulatory path, which I changed up after seeing this bullshit. There are no hotels around, it is a freaking Saturday, and walking past the shipping bay of the LD store and a parkade entrance, like WTF? Who are all these Fuckwit Criminals with wheeled tote luggage in this town in the most absurd circumstances?

Enough of the pedantic, and hopefully I will get to see my new blog look that has been kept from me on this chopped down version in Windows. Consider yourselves to be the first to read this Windows and Linux O/S combination created blog posting. It sounds too arcane to be of substance, but for the perps it yet another vein to mine. Go figure.

Friday, March 26, 2010

Back to PC Functionality

A total wasted day, that only the sickos could benefit from. They had me retrieve my PC from the shop at 1030h, return it to my place but not connect it, and then deal with the email jerkarounds of my mother's PC for most of the day, something that could only be arranged. The recent hard disk replacement of my mother's PC "resulted" in Outlook gone, and in its place was Outlook Express. So.. no end of time was expended to get the Outlook Express loaded up from Outlook saved files to no avail. Not that I figured out the difference, as they look the same, and any critical faculties to do so were long ago dithered. It was only when talking to the PC repair technician that I got the hint one got swapped for the other, and that it had to be set up. And from them, I learned that the ISP had to reset the password for my mother's email ID, as I could not do so online, and got derailed into a 6 long customer name being required when her email handle was only 5 long. Talk about stupid, this was it. So... more phone calls on the wireless phone and all those EMF's buzzing around my head, and I finally got it changed and the email accessible.

As one can discern, my PC is now hooked up and running, getting a removable hard drive tray and rack installed, and no software installs. The RMA hard drive parcel is still in the manager's office, and they haven't even deigned to phone me to let me know. I even walked past the assistant manager this morning on my way out and he didn't say a thing. More fucking bizarre bullshit, as he was the one that signed for it yesterday. If the sickos want to protract hard drive acquisition like they did with the last one, keeping it in the manager's office for six days, then they will. I have the one that failed sitting on my shelf, awaiting the RMA parcel so I can send it back. Basic and barefaced mail interception, especially for spinning magnetic materials that seem to be so vital for their agenda. As mentioned many times, I am bathed in a magnetic field everywhere I go, measured at 1600 gauss in 2009. And I get to see masers and plasma beams all the time, everywhere I look in my place, and both are magnetically controlled phenomenon. Not too hard to figure out the perps' methods, though their objectives are somewhat unclear. Hounding me to make endless typos, spelling mistakes and misread errors all day long is totally fucking tedious, but they have been doing this all my life, and I am not used to it, and totally resent some sick asshole dithering me at every breath I take..

Other related PC action to the above over the past two days was to have my mother's PC leaving the repair shop, just as I was bringing mine in, the PC's crossing paths as it were. I drove my mother to a social function, then purchased some more coconut butter at a specialty store, and then took it back to her place where I set it up, but didn't look at the email that cost me most of the day to fix. As usual, I had my consort of gangstalking vehicles, with red colors playing big, some four around me these days, with another two or so parked nearby or crossing at intersections when I am waiting. The perps are also putting on more brown colored vehicles, massing two or three light metallic tan colored vehicles in my proximity and sometimes another two passing by or parked. On the brown dressed gangstalkers front they put on three dudes opposite me on the bus last night, each in a widely different shade of brown, deep brown, light brown, and an orange brown, all sitting some 3' apart, and aligned along the passenger side, opposite from me on the driver's side at the rear. This is much more venturesome than they have ever been, having three brown (Unfavored color) dressed males (Unfavored demographic group) clustered nearby.

Other predictable vehicular gangstalking action that erupted while packing my PC, or returning after dropping it off at my place, was the arrangement of soil slinging trucks ahead of me, the gasoline and heating fuel tankers, the mixed concrete redi-mix trucks (keeping the single lane flow very slow then), foliage bearing vehicles (gardening services) and the wood hauling vehicles. They cannot get enough of that perversity, and besides the vehicle colors, the most consistent set of vehicular oddities.

Now the beeping from outside had started up, somehow getting through my earmuffs, I them off to ameliorate the faint sounds. I still have to do some First Feral Family duty time tonight, getting my mother back from downtown as she "happened" to have a social engagement when I was about done with that fucking Microsoft Outlook fiasco at her place. We drove down together, and will meet up again in an hour or so, and I will bus it back as she doesn't like to drive at night.  It is my opinion that the sickos have Microsoft in their pocket, and can direct them to add more FUD (Fear, Uncertainty and Doubt, mostly the latter two) into the public software picture by way of their naming confusion as well as confusing product overlap. Going back to my worksite in 1990-91, the IT people in our government organization were always talking up Microsoft  without any research or substantive rationale, as well as buying their stock. This was long before the PC desktop was established, and it was cause for chronic vexation, as Windows 3.0 of the day could not satisfy our user requirements, and the IT personnel were fobbing off our complaints, as was our manager. I never did figure out why the IT imposition of Windows 3.0 of the day was so absolute for all its failures at the time. Once I put this in the larger conspiratorial context of nothing in my life being happenchance, all the strange organization behaviors made sense.

Another round of over revving motorcycle noise outside just as the above was written, so it must be of interest tot them that I write about their past Fuckover games, if that is what it is. They like me to keep up the thought pattern of what they either have done, or have fed me, though for the most part, the historical activities seem to fit the pattern best, as they can be validated in many ways besides the current abuse and incursion rampage. More rumbling noise is now getting through the earmuffs, the same noise that nearly always arrives overhead, whether in the kitchen, desk, in the bathroom or in bed. This rumbling noise also somehow gets through 12" of concrete floor/ceiling.

Back after driving my mother to her place, getting her PC to print, and hanging around to then get the bus to downtown. She came at the Perp Holy Hour of dusk onset after visiting an embroidery show downtown, and had dinner locally with a friend. And of all rarities, she came up to visit my place, and got to see the removable hard drive tray in action, me providing the demo. Then onto the parkade in the next block, and then I drove her back. It was the dusk onset and the perps put on a big show, covering me with red colored vehicles, mostly deep metallic burgundy reds, and even driving I would have some 8 to 10 in view ahead of me, never mind behind or parked to the side. And on Shelbourne Street, one of the major arterial streets to the suburbs, they put on a swarm of some 50 to 80 cyclists of no apparent affiliation, but they were decidedly organized, and proceeded to block the single lane of traffic two vehicles ahead of me from Bay St. to Ryan St. I couldn't believe it, wilfully violating the law with a swarm of cyclists three or more abreast, and aided by the lack of jam of the first motorist (silver grey color) behind them who wouldn't pull into the oncoming lane when he safely could of and passed them. They put on the slow 20kph troll and eventually coalesced and ceased their ride for whatever reason. Like how does one get that many cyclists arranged and behaved in the same way, as they weren't racers or of like athletic endeavor where they know the route and stay in single file, and never approach that many cyclists. So it would seem that the sickos need to send cycling hordes out in advance to collect whatever data they can about me, my processing of the color red, and at the particular time of day when one switches vision processing from cones to  rods. Go fuck yourselves and get your sick asses in my face instead of putting me through eight years of this fucking hell all to keep up the pseudo-remote games.

A major screaming rage show with follow-on provocations at each location in my apartment this morning. I was spooing the ground coffee from the bag to the carafe when the sickos flicked some coffee onto the stove top, doing their gravitic defying fuckery again. A 10" mess of coffee grounds to clean up, and as this is the umpteenth time, I was pissed, and let them know it loud and clear. But that was just the starter-abuse, as they then ran the cleaning sponge into the adjacent hot burner to make it smell (twice), had me make four iterations to clean up the mess when one would of done, (especially when one witnesses how "sticky" ground coffee is in this apartment), and once cleaned, and then got onto something else, why, there was more mess again on the stove top, ostensiby by coffee grounds. Another screaming rage show to let them know how much I appreciated teleported reprise messes. Then the "usual" jerkarounds with applying peanut butter and jam to the toast, to keep my rage level going, and some more at the breakfast table in dealing with a proliferation of teleported crumbs. Once done the dishes and in the bathroom, they kept up more rage shows but jumping the soap from my hand, and later flicking shaving foam other than where I intended it to go.

The "inciting event" for pulling such a blatant rage-ification might of been that I was starting a new loaf of bread today, and that the end slice is of course brown on one side like most bread ends. Having this incremental (bread slice increments) exposure of brown through the loaf, and likely diminishing the further one gets from the bread end, is just too much of a temptation it seems to fuck innocent victims with. This is the mentality of my tormentors, and this particular "bread end fucking" had abated for the last three months or so, and I thought it was over for good, mission accomplished and all that. But no, the fuckers are back at it, and starting a bread loaf will likely continue to be this brutal and abusive event. (This particular gluten free specialty bread has only one cooked end, as they must make two retail loaves out of one pan cooled loaf, with the cooked (browned) end always at the opening end of the plastic bag that it is packaged in.)

Anyhow off to the bus stop this morning to join my selected freaks and shifteless males; yet again I have never seen so many males without a seeming day job doing dumbshit stunts like going three stops and getting off. There was the odd button down suit dude, all the more curious as to why he would be getting on a bus in suburbia to head further out into suburbia at 0930h.

Then when coming back tonight, another round of the city bus freakshow; here it was at 2105h and getting the bus in suburbia, and five dudes show up, three of which who crossed the street some 20 seconds of the bus crossing the tracks. These were the "bus stop sweepers" who walked through the bus stop after me and my other two dudes/tails had boarded. And these same two dudes followed me on, and both sat down at the same instant as I sat down, they arranged one behind the other, and a transverse seat between me and the one immediately in front. In other words, the three of us boarded the bus serially, and sat on the same side, faced the same way in this most curious in-file alignment. Later they filled in the seats with more weirds, though with some females to minimize a full dude press. A later skateboard bearing partial dreaklock blonde Caucasian dude "happened" to board the bus, and in the usual Cheersing scene, met one of his confreres who was sitting nearby, and so I had this visage of a partial dreadlock hair-do/hurl-do if I wasn't attentive (read, remotely applied attention control). The disgusting bullshit that the Fuckwits do to their hair simply astounds me.

Anyhow, some 30 passengers on a Friday evening heading to downtown from whitebread suburbia of Gordon Head seemed a bit rich for city bus transportation in this town. Other weirds were the ballcap backwards dudes, the tight white toque dudes, and the white ballcap semi-vagrant dude. I don't quite know why the perps want me to see this tight skull cap headwear, but they go out of their way to make sure I see only a small slice of this headwear between Fuckwits that have obligingly separated for me to see the featured Fuckwit between them.

Other things I was up to while without the PC for the last two days was some limited reading. The perps would often dither my reading after 30 to 40 minutes at the most, making further cognition impossible. I don't know how the book got there, as they must of blanked me out, because I once rarely forgot the circumstances of aquiring books, but I read Beyond My Wildest Dreams (and here) by Kim Carlserg. It is about alien abduction from someone who remembers much about it, and was illustrated as well. I now have a possible explanation as to why I get so many hoodie dressed Fuckwits, some who put their hoodie on after boarding the bus for crissakes where it is substantially warmer. (Or, like last night, the hoodie slipped in increments of an inch at a time down the head of the woman seated in front of me, over some ten minutes of bus travel, and not by any action she took). The author revealed that in one scene of her abductions that there was a predominance of hoodie wearing individuals, and so it might be that I was also exposed to such during the "lost years" of 1956 to 1959 (age 2 to 5), where my recall seems to have been 90% deleted. As mentioned many times, the ongoing freakshow parade (of the Unfavored) seems to be about emulating subconscious traumatization associations, and attempting to remotely detect such reactions with realtime neural monitoring. And then apply some kind of remediating energies to remove those associations, as it seems to be problematic for the assholes who created the problem in the first place. Abuse to rectify past abuse is perfectly OK by these psychopathic cretins.

I wanted to re-read A Nation Betrayed by Carol Rutz, and I note that there was a handwritten message on the first page addressed to me by name. Yet again, I have no recall as to how I acquired this book, but it must be directly from the author. And, to reiterate, I am extremely pissed that these kinds of events, book acquisition as one example, aren't recallable when they always were before overt harassment began. Sudden and unexpected drop-outs of recall are extremely perturbing for me, and I am sure there is much more my mindkeepers know about that than I do. I wasn't allowed to re-read this book for any length, but the few I did read, and the author suffered as a child, (and retained in memory), makes one skin creep. It seems that she was shunted around to some of the major abusers, including Dr. Ewen Cameron. Speaking of which, the sickos let me re-read In the Sleep Room in some depth, the first 50 pages or so. This tyrant is getting a picture painted that is begining to make some sense at to where he was coming from in professional terms, and setting the basis for why he perpetrated the clinical transgressions that he did. As before, I lived in Montreal, the city he practiced in, for two of the above mentioned "lost years". I recall the 1956 stay as I was an only child then, but have no recall of the latter stay, and no one in my family has ever informed me. I only found out (read, scripted setup) by way of a photograph that was distinctly that of Montreal (ice sculputres) and my younger brother was 14 to 16 months old. My father graduated from McGill in 1959.

I tell this above story often, but I never know if I am boring my audience or treating newcomers to the long running trappings of this tale of extra governmental depravity. My intent, is to make most any single blog posting readable and coherent from the present perspective (as in elevated extra conventional abuse) to that of my past, as little as I know about it.

Enough of the rambling and on with posting.

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

Toilet Paper Follies

What could be stupider than the perp games over toilet paper, especially when an old roll is done, and a new one is loaded? It is always a big fuckover moment, sometimes "happening" in mid crap, being duly mindfucked out of preventive measures. Today's just finished nonsense is another, with a second forced pee this morning, then the leaping pee from the toilet that takes lateral hops and onto the rim, all to somehow catch a strange cast of light and have a red-orange glow coming off it, changeable if I shift my viewing angle. The cleaning up their rim mess, some arriving without apparent unconventional gravitic hopping, read teleported pee, and then running out of the roll just as I finished the cleaning, all to extra overhead noise clunking and backup beeping from outside. I put on the new roll, had the spindle secured at both ends, and then it magically hopped off the retaining hardward, suddenly hit the ground and took an extra conventionally kinetic hop 2' backwards to then unfurl to lay some of the paper directly on the floor. Like WTF?, closing in on eight years of unconventional gravitic abuse, and eight years of jerking around with freaking toilet paper (e.g. allowing perforation tearing some 10% of the time despite all attempts), and here we are, spoofing toilet paper swap-over still. But as the perps have an abiding interest in paper, and nearly always have a paper bearing Fuckwit within five minutes of me being out in public, and to the extent some ot them are even carrying their paper document in their mouths for crissakes (like a dog might), I suppose the last of toilet paper fucking games has yet to come. Just an aside as to what I deal with and the mentality of the Fuckwit Abusers.

And the eight year long answer to the above leading question as to stupider, is that even more stupid and anal retentive stunts are yet to come. And they consistently deliver.

A rousing stream of back up beeper noise this morning, getting a 0730h get up time from the mind keepers, without benefit of alarm. Usually I get screwed into a ten hour sleep on these occasions, getting up in mid morning and effectively missing most of it.

Tea and chocolate are over, and a full fire department and gangstalker press to accompany me outside on my way and back to get the chocolate at the supermarket, a walk of no more than 150'. They put the regular (seen 4x already) red haired faux bum in a green jacket on duty to ask me for a handout, all artfully arranged over the parking spot vacated by the red vehicle that bizarrely turned 90 degrees and travelled all of 15' to another parking stall. Then at the checkout, a red haired woman to the left, another one to the right, and when I got out of the store, the red haired vagrant male was on my ass again, seeking a handout and pretending he didn't recognize me the first time. I never encountered a bum with that little recall before, but in the harassment business, there is always a new stunt.

The trip outside was preceded by me doing my tax return online, and just at the final page, they wiped out the buttons to download the file and to send it to the taxman electronically. Fucking outrageous that some assholes let me do the entire tax return and then fuck me at the final frame. I suppose the big deal was to have me go to the supermarket then, tax return activities unfinished and hopefully recoverable, and get to see the erstwhile fire department out on the adjacent street, without benefit of sirens, all to have their yellow trucks outside and yellow lights flashing. And they are still at it in mid-street, the day glo dudes around their yellow vehicle, pretending to be still busy. I suppose being full of chocolate is part ot the deal, as the assholes like to put brown and yellow colors together for me to see or be exposed to. What does that remind me of....?

And more pee games earlier, also before going outside, and just the "usual unusual", per above extra-conventional gravitic fuckery.

Not an exciting day, being mostly PC bound by dint of mind fuck games. They often prescribe shut-in days for Tuesdays, the day after my return from the First Feral Family home. I get to do driver duty tomorrow in attending to getting this PC modified to get a removable rack installed, so perhaps no posting tomorrow.

A screaming round with the sickos who made my wheeled office chair stay stuck in a small dip and no amount of lateral force could move it. Once I started yelling at them, it was permitted to move, often the case with these stunts.

And out at my evening course tonight; the usual fellow travellers, but even more obvious when returning as today's hoodie stalker in a low contrast large checkered hoodie jacket in olive green and light blue covered me in both directions, pairing up with the wacko woman in pants, a skirt and a jacket of last Thursday evening. They just both "happened" to have the same schedule and know each other. I suppose it is possible they are in the same evening classes, but the number of "happenchance confreres" meeting each other in my proximity beats Cheers hands down.

And they sneaked a negro on board the bus somehow, as I was watching all the entering passengers and the bus driver went upstairs before the bus departed on the return trip, presumably to flush out anyone asleep upstairs. Lo, if the negro didn't come down and project his hand out first to grasp the vertical rail as he came downstairs. I was wondering what it was until he revealed all of himself. I suppose this would be another incremental exposure exercise, but they made sure I saw this Unfavored specimen by way of his hand first though.

As usual, the late evening time bus has a surfeit of shiftless males; I cannot figure out why so many or that they may only take the bus for three stops and then get off.

Other bullshit was in the classroom, this god awful sneeze erupted right behind me just as the instructor said the word "fail" in the context of Oracle database software. But I suspect this kind of bullshit is only going to get worse, as the assholes seem to want to study every word I utter, including the ridiculous english syntax they plant on me sometimes. Another trick is for them to type out a word wholly different than what I intended, and turning off my error trapping ability at the same time, so I don't catch the erroneous word until it is fully typed. Yet another never-before.

I am going to call this posting done for the day, and there won't likely be a posting tomorrow or even Friday (Mar. 24 and 25) as I am getting the removable hard drive rack installed, a two month quest/jerkaround since I first ordered one and got screwed around with back orders, delayed orders, and a parcel sitting in the manager's office for a week. Another coincidental stunt (har, har) was having my mother's PC hard drive fail and then the delivered drive put in her PC while I wait for an RMA hard drive to come before I can complete my intended Linux dedicated hard drive. So in other words, the perps wanted this hard fdrive to sit in the manager's office in the lobby for a week, then sit in my apartment for a week, and then get taken to my mother's place to then be taken to the PC repair shop. And lo, when I arrived at the service desk, the receptionist was taking a hard drive out of its anti-static packaging that had a dayglo orange sticker on it. This has been one long ugly project, entirely held up by the assholes, and it just might be the tone that will be set as I get fucked with in installing Linux.

The significance of the magnetic hard drive disks is that the perps are keeping me in a densified magnetic field (measured and photographed at 1600 gauss in 2009), and having a magnetic disc spinning at 7,200rpm only 2' from me (inside the PC) is just too wonderful of an event for the said assholes that keep hounding me all the time. All the better that the hard drive makes a round trip from the apartment building lobby where the manager's office is, then my apartment, then my mother's place for one night, then the PC repair shop and back to her place, now inside her PC. And just as her PC exits the shop, mine enters the shop to get its hard drive relocated to a removable tray that slides into a rack that secures it. Hopefully this week I wil recieve the RMA hard drive, replacing the one that was likely sabotaged in my mother's machine. And both PC's were built at the same time in the same shop, and many of the parts of my old PC were put in my mother's at the time. It is all very coordinated and orchestrated, never mind the coincidence factor that begat the hard drive chase.

Monday, March 22, 2010

Monday First Feral Family Events

Back to online schlepping when I have things to do, like studying Oracle material to write the exams next month. This is one long running jerkaround; taking the courses, wanting to study, but somehow it "just doesn't happen", per mind fuck games IMHO. In all my college years, and in all other situations of writing exams. e.g. professional forestry, I have never faced such a continuing malaise of getting on with studying.

Back at my place after cooking lunch, a screaming rage show over a new roll of Cling Wrap a lunchtime today. The assholes had punctured the Cling Wrap to make the start tab unusable, and then mashed the end of it to make it unlocatable on the outside of the roll. Then they ragged me some more with faked touches and Cling Wrap pieces that wouldn't leave my hand when over the garbage. I haven't had one of these for at least four years, so back to the bad old days of high rage gratuitious abuse. This time with no neighbor complaints or the simulation thereof.

This followed a Monday morning at the First Feral Family home, then to the computer shop with the hard drive to replace the one in my mother's PC, then to her accountant to drop off papers, then to downtown for her to look for shorts, then coffee and then more shorts looking, and then back to my place to drop myself off, and she continuing homebound. And plenty of the shiftless males wandering around with their coffee cups held out in front of them, the Coffee Corps as I call them. Presumably there was some perp arrangement for me to be drinking coffee and seeing the Fuckwits on the street carrying their coffee simultaneously. I notice that a coffee wholesaler has set up shop within this city block, so I expect the coffee connection, read perp brown color research, will be continuing for at least another year.

It was communal TV watching last night, just my mother and I, and she wanted to see the Para Winter Olympics closing ceremonies, as it is a big deal being almost local. Not that she followed it much, but as it was rife with wheelchairs, I was scripted to see it. I spent most of the time looking at the curtains and listening, as there is nothing I loathe more (of late especially) of all the clinical materiel, that fucking wheelchairs. The perps even seem to arrange for me to see plenty of bicycle wheels as a surrogate. This must relate to the "lost years" of 1956 to 59 when they wiped most of my recall, as I have no conscious memories as to why I would loathe wheelchairs or any other known traumatization associations. Besides, this "loathing" seems to be a planted "reaction" as I didn't particular care either way as to seeing a wheelchair or not until then, and since the perps went overt-beserk in 2002, they made sure I noticed and reacted to a significantly greater degree than I ever did. Another thanks for nothing from the Assholes of the Fourth Reich.

And they were out in abundance today, the downtown perambulating with my mother, a total fuckover scene for them, as they can get me to walk slower, and have her do ditzy things like step in others' way, like a real perp/shill. And I suppose her quest for shorts might be an exposition of this subject, as the perps like putting on gangstalkers wearing shorts, sometimes on rainy winter days. I have never seen so many Fuckwits wearing shorts since they went over-beserk. And too, not a much as aforementioned wheelchairs, they like me to "react" negatively to short wearing Fuckwits, especially in the more absurd scenarios like I mentioned.

A rich set of TI links here at Are You Targeted?; some I don't know of and will explore today, though I believe I have corresponded with Jeremy, the author.

An ongoing train of loud mufflered vehicles with the noise somehow getting through the hearing protective earmuffs. Like I have said, the noise-scape is highly governed in my experience, and that includes planting human noises around individuals who did not actually make them.

The perps have me interested in soil science today, specifically terra preta or biochar soil treatment for improved yields. Not exactly anything I can do about while living in an apartment, but as they had me digging and sieving soil for some 10 hours last week, they want to continue the coverage of this very significant topic (to them). And my mother has some more soil digging jobs she says, after doing some 20 hours worth on one bed at her house. She doesn't seem too moved to make sure it doesn't revert to weeds so far, but it isn't uncommon for any of my assigned dig-overs to be left to fallow for some months.

What is the deal with campers abounding in the streets these days? It is way too early in this neck of the woods for camping season and yet campers have been given extra vehicular gangstalking attention. In the fraught abusive days of 2002, they would often place extra campers around the house of Ms. C of the story whenever I would stay there. I envisioned these as control rooms for applying the fuckery and pain at the time, though it could of been more mundane and fitting the same objective as having these mobile kitchens and sleeping quarters arranged around town, ostensibly for movie crews, except that there isn't a movie shoot that can be found. I suspect the perps' own operatives do sleep overs of locations for specific reasons, ones usually on my regular beats, all to see if they can detect some kind of similar energetic interactions between their cooperative operatives and yours truly who may have slept in the vicinity, or who frequently passes by.

A fascinating read for 50 minutes or so, The Secrets of the Lost Races; New Discoveries of Advanced Technology in Ancient Civilizations, by Rene Noorbergen. It is fodder for the once freaked out TI who has come round to a new world view, albeit incomplete until the perps finally tip their hand, but don't plan on that. One interesting vignette in the story is about Dr. Gooch, an explorer who was a Mason, and who  indicated to his non-Masonic colleague that the Masons had posession of Amoela's diary, said to be the most complete record of ancient human history. Dr. Gooch died shortly thereafter. So where have we heard this story before, "chance" expiration soon after, or before, important revelations or in advance of significant technological direction change, e.g. Rudolph Diesel's demise. Karen Silkwood anybody?, But from what I digest, the wretched excesses of the war in Iraq and the associated larceny isn't getting reported as the divulgee-to-be gets knocked off, in suicide or combat. Prison Planet indeed, even as the wardens think they are exempt.

Some new links added to the Consolidated Link List to the right, from tonight's perusing. Saving you the jump and wading through that very long list I need to do something about;

Mother Earth Journal Terri Hansen, a native Indian journalist, gets gangstalked. No race is exempt.
The Cetorian A new blog (03-2010), but an experienced TI who isn't afraid to address the bigger picture.

And no seeming ability to change the blog body width, so it is proportionate to the size of one's monitor, and I am stuck with the skinny column down the middle in this here Blogspot. I can see from the examples I am getting the detuned and defeatured Blogspot presentation, but this is getting silly when I cannot change the blog text width for those of us with 22" displays.

More blog maintenance activity, putting the Consolidated Link List into a Blogspot "edit" page, about the dumbest name they could of come up with; "static pages" maybe. And this was forced because I wasn't allowed to find this page on a search, so another "regular page" gets moved to its new billing. Thankfully no major select/copy/paste losses or jerkarounds in the process.

I am going to post this now, as I really don't have much going on to detail, or else I am getting blocked.

Saturday, March 20, 2010

Beam Me Out of Here + 03-21-2010 Add-on

No end of plasma beams flashing and flickering today; at this apartment and at the classroom where I was all day taking the Oracle DBA II class. The perps like to create projections from seen objects, having a partial profile of them offset up to 2' or so, and in a different color than the object. A table will be "ghosted" in this fashion as one example, the prominent edge re-displayed as a plasma projection some 6" away, in white or yellow typically. Another style of plasma beam games is to put a spot over something in my peripherial vision and have me notice the color inconsistency immediately and have me look at the just-disappeared plasma spot. Then there is the out-and-out plasma beam of no particular source, just because they wanted on there. Two weeks ago they put a 4' vertical beam, 1" wide at the most, in bright white behind the instructor and gave it at least one second of display time, an unmistakable beam show. I would say that the plasma beam games were more fleeting today, but coming in thick and furious at times, especially after lunch. The post -meal food digestion period continues to be highly noisestalked and with toher significant perp interest.

Then there are the masers that come off the projection screen in the classroom, often from the words in the slide and directly at me, with some two to four seconds travel time over the 12' or so. Another maser beam came off the front board, skirted the left ear of the guy in front of me who was talking to me, and right at my face. As before, masers and plasma beams are magnetically controlled phenomena, and I have measured the magnetic field around me at over 1600 gauss last year, when a local TI showed me her newly acquired instruments. The level was 200 Gauss in late 2002, and I would not doubt that the perps need to raise it more from what it currently is, as they have been pissing around as part of their ongoing investigations into my brain stem area for close to 2.5 years now. It seems to be the last brain region they cannot yet fuck with 100%. My clues to this are that there is more and more noisestalking the instant I change my attention and think about something else. In today's class there had to have been at least 20 throat clearings, sneezes or coughs exactly when I shifted my attention, sometimes from a perp planted reverie.

And I got my class member stalking while I was eating my brown tortilla in the coffee shop at lunch today. It was the guy in front of me whom I speak with, and his ostensible reason was that he was waiting for his burger to be ready. I suppose that was  the reason he later sat down with me, as we had a conversation about jobs and employment prospects. He works for Fujitsu, and it was a member from that company that contacted me back in the fall of 2009 who was interested in seeing me and who suddenly stopped communications for no discernable reason, very unlike any recruiter I have come across. He was asking me the name of the person with whom I was in contact, but I was drawing a total blank, uncharacterisitically, as I can usually associate a few clues to recall a name. (Read remote recall obstruction methods). Strangely it didn't happen, even if he asked twice. I told him that I would get the name from my email, which I did, he doing the "look away" thing while I was telling him, and he said he didn't know the person. Strange how all these loose ends come back to repeat themselves, though on the face of it, this could happen in a "natural coincidence" world, save the above mentioned sudden recruiter communications cut off, and the "look away" nonsense I regularly get from nearly all known parties when talking to them.

Recall some three weeks ago when there was another all daytime Saturday class, and the coffee shop was closed, and I "chanced" upon an Asian class member who sits behind me, and we toured one building to no avail, and then back to the building that houses our classroom to where there was a variety of vending machines, and she "happened" to be standing 4' away while I ate my tortilla that I had packed in its plastic tub in my briefcase. All very exciting for the perps, the color and packaging of my food, and for the first year of harassment I could not understand why they were so rabid about my food choices, hounding me most of all in grocery stores.

Other exotic perp excitement was that I put some $300 cash in my bank at the ATM this morning, a wad of 15 $20 bills, all predominantly green with a little yellow color in them. And as the perps are also rabid about my wallet contents and the color of the bills, and have at least six lifetime wallet thefts to their credit, I suppose this might of been a reason for the extra abuse and rage-ification stunts when I got back. They also overflowed the toilet again immediately before having tea, and having been back only some five minutes. They make no bones about that it is caused by them, and will spare the details on this topic, as it too is a major perp fuckover scene which they made plain in their very first overt debut, an apparent police raid on my apartment. When they showed up later, one of them was seen putting a balloon down my toilet, and causing me to purchase a plumber's snake to clear the toilet. Just the opening salvo on an eight year attack on taking a shit.

And some of my Tuesday and Thursday regular city bus travellers/gangstalkers "happened" to be on the bus this Saturday morning, leaving downtown at 0826h, long before any stores are open. There was the white ski jacketed blonde from two evenings ago, inserting herself between the dudes who were lined up in the seats behind the bus driver. Then the E. Indian male, one half of a couple, who typically got on the bus together, and went one stop and got off. He was also making a Saturday debut, getting on earlier than his regular stop and getting off at least four stops past his usual one. Very curious that, and it might have something to do with the perps' obsession over brown skin, and my newfound loathing of all headwear, especially turbans and religious effects. (Wearing hats or other headgear is an automatic inclusion to the Unfavored, save for attractive blondes).

 And another aspect of the colors of the bills in my wallet today was that I expended a $20 at the coffee shop at lunch today, getting three blue $5 bills as change. I often wondered about the "shortages" of certain coins and bills in the long past, and now I have a strong suspicion that the above mentioned wallet thieves were also likely arranging these too. Way too tempting not to arrange it, given their fixation on wallet content and its colors. I had a paper route when I was in my teens, and typically I was paid in cash then, so it is highly possible that all my 107 customers might have been contacted in advance to proffer the right kind/color of payment. There being low denomination bills at the time; ones (green color) and twos (red brick color). Though there was nothing suspicious at the time, no blank stares or other strange expressions, though one brother did steal my subscriber collection money to create an ugly family scene, very possibly perp arranged. [Note; I had forgotten that for all time, but "remembered" somehow tonight, har, har].

Nothing too compelling tonight, and a few provocations while preparing for tea and chocolate. The latest jerkaound that is getting play each day is the boiled kettle water not pouring from the kettle, neccessitating that it be put down, the lid pulled up some (steel), and lo, the water flows out just as it usually does. As part of the process, some of the kettle water self-erupts from the spout to dump on the stovetop. Another juvenile vein of consistent fuckery is the chocolate packaging being suddenly resistant to being torn by my very strong fingernails, incurring a round of swearing at the assholes before it suddenly tears where is usually easy to do so. They are still obstructing me purchasing kiwi fruits at the grocery store, by not allowing me to open the plastic bags that come on the spool at the store. The concept of taking a plastic bag there just doesn't happen, and the pre-bagged kiwi fruit they had are suddenly unavailible. Funny how that happens.

Anyhow, enough evening time rambling here, and onto tomorrow, a Sunday, and likely not to have a posting. But it is the day that the hard drive adversity/merry-go-round resumes, when I take the hard drive that arrived last week and originally intended for the removable drive rack/tray to be instead loaded into my mother's PC, which "happened" to have a hard drive failure this week. And when I get the warranty replacement hard drive, it will be the one used for the removable rack/tray, delaying that task by a week, and ending a 8 week saga of obstructing me getting prepared for my Oracle DBA course work for the last week of classes. Perfect timing from the warped perp perspective. Though, just like the last hard drive i ordered, it could also spend a week in the manager's office for no stated reason, thus extending the obstruction past the end of the course, another ironic possibility that fits the fuckery agenda. And I should be getting going on ordering a new router, as mine suddenly "gave up" this week, in dual PC take down, my mother's PC (hard drive, as mentioned) and my PC until the router was isolated as the problem. Both PC's will be back at the same shop where they were both built at the same time, many of my old parts going into my mother's PC. All too circular, not to mention the expense, as well as the elevated coincidence level; new hard drive fails in five months under warranty, same as three years ago when a three month old hard drive AND its dissimilar cohort both failed at the same moment. Not even RAID arrays are configured for a two-at-once hard drive failure.

Enough blathering as I said before, and time to post this one.


An add-on as I will have limited online time today with First Feral Family activities, the usual Sunday visitation, stayover, and for tomorrow, PC recovery with the continuing hard drive follies, per above.

A Chicken Run this morning, with the "usual suspects" and noise games. This is the event of selecting and purchasing a hot cooked chicken, and when home, removing the skin, and then having some to eat off the carcass without benefit of plates, cutlery and the rest of the fine dining scenario. This is what happens when one lives alone, these short cuts become part of the routine, all to disappear in couple company. But if every action and thought is scripted as I suspect it is, these meals off the plastic cutting board are of intense perp interest as there will be an energetic difference between the chicken off the cutting board, and that eaten off the plate, though chopped and incorporated into the tortillas I regularly make. Such things are exceeding important to the psychopathic tormentors I deal with, to the degree that they will even have dinner plate bearing gangstalkers placed near me out on the street.

So,... after two whole chickens going bad in the fridge when they never did before, and the fridge is on its coldest setting, it was back to selecting a partial chicken, cooked and hot at the special self-serve counter. Again, no half chickens, and no partial chickens in the free run line, so back to basic tasteless chicken legs this time to avoid the sudden onset of accelerated meat decay the assholes have been planting on me.

I had my "passing by" gangstalkers while circling the chicken counter, at least five, some doing back-and-forths, and behind me, the stocker/stalker boy constantly making rustling noise with the tortilla chips display until I made my selection as to which bag of hot cooked chicken legs to have. And when I proceeded to the chocolate section 15' away, why, the stocker/stalker boy "happened" to finish his noisemaking and tailed me there, and lo, if his stocker/stalker cart wasn't in front of the chocolate section with brown boxes on it. With this asshole on my tail, and the (planted) notions of past chocolate bars tumbling from the overstocked shelves, it was a quick grab to get a few and then proceed onto the fraught produce section for yet another attempt to get kiwi fruit.

There were the usual "just standing there" dweebes/Fuckwits at the aisle ends and more around the corner, and lo, if they didn't have the pre-bagged kiwi fruit there this time, in the very location they placed a brown canvas tarp two days ago for mysterious reasons.

I got the fugly bearded dude intervening to make a phone call at the female cashier's checkout, and got out of there fast enough, with the prior customer putting her brown colored shopping bag on display, and protracting the event by playing the dumbass. Been there, seen it. The usual hoodie Fuckwits on the way back, and even a pair of "greens"; near same green color shirt wearing couple who obstructed me from getting to the crosswalk to cross the street by doing the dumbass ditzing around immediately in front of me, putting on the oblivious act to boot. Been there, seen it.

Maybe the fugly dude intervention at the checkout is a warm up to when they will plant dudes as cashiers at this local supermarket, something they haven't done in the four years I have done my grocery shopping there. At the LD store nearby, they have resorted to fugly dude cashiers; beards, ponytails and skinheaded Asians so who knows what the grand plan is. As mentioned in past blog postings, the perps constantly hound me over every financial transaction I make, from coin machines, swiping bus passes, writing checks at home to debit card purchases, and planting the Unfavored fugly dudes, and other Unfavoreds, in my proximity when transacting seems to be a part of this total life rape-scape

The usual noisestalking came on when I was removing the chicken skin and carving off some for my ersatz lunch. Of late, the faked water movement in pipes has been playing big, in the kitchen and then in the bathroom when cleaning my teeth from the extra sticky chicken meat that somehow hung up in my wide gapped teeth. This noise in the form of on/offs, often from a mid-level volume and getting softer, as if someone would do this somehow, and carefully craft their water use to make progressively fainter noise in a succession short bursts. Then they pull this off from the other side of the wall in the bathroom just when I happened to go back there. If it sounds implausible it is usually contrived, and the perps don't seem to mind blatant noisetalking noisestalking of late.

Now the bass note vibes are coming on as I wrap this up, and they mysteriously get through my earmuffs even if a faint noise. Nothing new there, as there are certain noises that come on louder in my earmuffs that when they are off. Funny how that happens.

Friday, March 19, 2010

Digging Cacaphony

I am almost too wiped out to blog tonight. A six hour stint of digging soil and sieving it was what did me in. This was at my in-town brother's place, and with the usual noise parade of motorcycles, hot rods, performance mufflers, ill maintained mufflers, helicopters, float planes, SAC bombers, lawn mowers, woodworking planers and routers, chain saws, leaf blowers as well at the odd dog barking and yelling neighobors. Very often three or more noises would be arranged simultaneously, or even stringing a motorcycle noise to follow a hot rod noise as they are similar at some frequencies. The perps just love me to dig soil, and sieving gets even more attention by way of concurrent noisestalking.

I even got my brother's indeterminant Thai girlfriend being friendly and not holing herself in his spare bedroom all day long. She even said hello, and after lunch, came out in this atrocious scarlet red housecoat and conversed about said brother and some of his quirks that are getting out  of hand. I validated her complaints, and mentioned that he has been known to be excessively obsessive, especially over money. She is from Thailand, and doesn't know english well enough that I understand what she is saying all the time, which also feeds the perp machine/abuse train as they just love to know exactly when I understand or don't understand something, and are even more noisestalking prone if I understand it after the fact, a cognitive trace ability they want to learn how to fuck with. So... with this brown skinned person in this bright red housecoat nattering on while I was slinging soil was just about perp heaven I reckon. And all the better that she moved around me, sitting down at various points of the compass, and even standing on my brother's new wall he constructed. I reckon this was the perps highlight of the two week job as I finished up on it today. Said girlfriend was friendly enough, and not seeming to be working, and gave gave me a ride in her deep metallic red colored vehicle all the way downtown to my apartment building. And she almost seemed to know the way without me mentioning the route. But that is just hearsay, but it interesting that the perps are often showing their hand just a little, and setting up possible tells as to the percieved reality, that is, it being arranged.

The major effort of this wall building and garden bed rehabilitiation was to rebuild the 3' wall that came down, and to sieve all the soil contained in the bed it bounded, at least 2 cubic yards worth, and rid it of all the couch grass and rock debris. Another part was to preserve the bulbs, daffodils, bluebells and one other type, so that took at least an hour to do. And what I noticed is that the couch grass roots would pass through a bulb, grow through it, and seem to suck nutrients from the bulb to make it appear shrunken. I had never seen anything like this before, and maybe it was a perp stunt. They liked to add straw back into the sieved soil, likely for their blonde emulation games as localized color references next to the black soil. I couldn't understand where all these grass stems, dried blonde ones, were coming from until it occured to me that it was the infernal assholes playing games, each time I sieved the soil, over a hundred at least.

But at least I didn't get gratuitously whacked in the knee as I did two days ago when doing the same job. They were out to enrage me, and backed off some today. Then they made up for it when I got back, and jerking me around in the shower, getting dressed, and cleaning the dishes.

I think this will be it for tonight, as I am too wiped out to pursue the details of the ciy bus freakshow and the rest of the gangstalking detritus that was out and about on my outbound trip.

Not yet, one WTF from yesterday, doubtless to set me up with phone calls to answer at exactly the right moments. I had a message to call a certain person from a financial services group, she referencing my online resume. I thought it was odd, but just as I put my head down for my sudden forced nap, the phone rang, and I got the lowdown on what she was looking for. She knew I was a technology worker from my resume, and asked me if I wanted to stay there or would I be interested as a "consultant". Eventually I got the story, but she was interested in recruiting me to be a financial services consultant, the ones that make their money off their client's asset trading, a stockbroker in effect. Like why be so vague using the term consultant, and then putting me through the gauntlet of finding out what kind of consultant? But as Starbucks calls their employees "associates", and there being many other euphemisms for the term "employee". But why use such a fudge when attempting to make a pitch? I don't get it, but as this is the second time in a week that the phone rang as I just put my head down for a forced nap, (yellow and blue mattress cover at my ear) I suppose any ruse will do. And of course, the sickos kept me pumped all day as to employment prospects, (read, planted thoughts of being employed),  when my instincts, (still mine I think), told me that this outfit doesn't hire IT personnel in this town, as their head office is half a continent away.

Another WTF moment to say the least. The with the nap over, and me being awake, my brother called asking about his gardening job. I have related my suspicions many times about phone calls, and specifically the phone, even if a landline model, that it is an EMF emitting device and is being placed at one's ear and serves the perp cause by arranging possible interference with one's own neurological EMF's, per thoughts and spoken word used during the phone call, and that these are remotely sensed by the sickos to further their mind control research. And don't get me started on cell phones, as they are a higher power EMF field, and of course are very portable, and tend to be used frequently in my proximity whenever out in public. Yesterday I had a cell phoning woman standing at the base of the two flights of stairs to the building I was intending to enter. Then when exiting, why, another woman standing at the same location while I was decending the stairs. And not for lackof signal either, as there was a cell phone tower only 100m away, as well as all manner of radio antennae on top of the building, some of it for student use. Also, when the apartment manager was fixing my toilet yesterday, he took two cell phone calls while I was on this PC. Nothing like having a cell phone gangstalker in one's apartment, as if I didn't get enough of this act everywhere I go.

Hard Drive Adversity

A roundelay of phone calls in getting the RMA number for the hard drive that failed on my mother's PC. Also complicating the fact is that two identical drives were purchased from the same supplier in one order, and the serial numbers listed on the invoice weren't attributable to an individual PC; hers, or the one in this PC. That necessitated two more phone calls in additon to the one I made this morning as they never called me yesterday as to the problem determination. I called this morning to find out, then had to call again to find out the serial number of the dead hard drive, and then the technician couldn't read it as it was still in the case, and so he phoned me back later to tell me what it was.

And the whole RMA thing, getting a Returned Materials Authorization number, ended up more complicated as I got bounced out of the online process after entering all the requested details for mysterious reasons. That lead to a phone call to Western Digital support line where I went through the RMA process for the second time, but over the phone. (The first time I called, was to attempt an RMA, but as I didn't know the exact serial number, one of two, it was to find out that I needed to download their software, which I later found out, doesn't run on Windows 7. I called the PC technician instead, per above mentioned phone calls.) The perps like to do this, have me undertake a task in one form (online), and then sabotage it to have me go through it again in another (telephone). Been there, had it done to me before.

Now onto getting laundry done, always a perp interest, and getting more research complexity as they will no doubt have the toilet repair personnel entering and exiting the bathroom where it is kept until I get on with it.

They fucked the toilet last night, and forced a shower for me to clean up. The rubber valve is disintegrating and the chain popped off. More hijinx kept "happening" as the valve also kept consuming water and that got me out of bed to turn off the water supply, and for strange reasons it still didn't shut off the noise right away. Go figure.

A yoga Thursday, and more interleaving of activities. The laundry got put on later than usual, and that meant that it was tumbling in the dryer when I set off. I had the usual freakshow out and about, and plenty of them. Taking the fruitcake was a male in a deep grey wearing coveralls and also wearing a mid-blue cape over his back, and standing at the pedestrian signal opposite.Yoga was fine, and then the freakshow was redoubled for my walk back. I had my dude sitting in his deep grey SUV for no seemig reason in a no parking zone immediately outside the church chapel room where we have classes. In nearly all cases there is someone, or a group, in or around a vehicle at the rear steps of the chapel. Strangely, I am the only one who departs via this direct route to outside. (Not available for arrivals though, as the lock doesn't permit entry). Today, it was the dude's turn, though I have had red vehicles, Asian families and other of the Unfavoreds doing their gangstalk duty in advance of my building exit. And a double emergency light and siren show, both simultaneously. Two blocks to the N. a siren went off with the blue and red flashing lights in mid street, and then in front of me, a police van started its siren and flashing lights, W. bound. They simply cannot get enough of the flashing light show around me these days.

I attended to laundry when I got back, somehow "forgetting" to change first and then get to it. These disruption of routines are becoming more common of late, and in this case, it seemed to be all about having me do the laundry sorting, folding and putting away while I was still in my yoga clothes.

Lunch, and then afterward, I filled out the form for the toilet to be fixed, as they hadn't done anything in my absence, and when I had phoned in the request four hours earlier, there was a suggestion that I needed to fill out the form for crissakes, even if he did say that they would bring one when they came. Except that they didn't and I filled it out following lunch and when down to the manager's office at the entryway lobby to drop it off. And lo, if he wasn't there at the elevator doors with a negro tradesman splattered with either paint or plaster, presumably as some kind of color/light range reference which is all too common. (My cereal flakes, brown in color, are always splattered in white and black dots, as if salt and peppered). The manager said he would look at the problem with me, and then the three of us travelled up in the elevator. The manager and myself got off and presumably  the negro went on to his work location, assuming it was legit and not some kind of gangstalker charade, har, har. The manager determined there was indeed a problem, and said he would get onto it right away. Which he did, coming back with the correct part.

Later, he discovered the level valve seal was leaking and so he went out to get more parts, this time he was gone for longer, and in the interim, a postal delivery person rang up on the intercom to say that he had a parcel for me. I was surprised, but as there was an order to be filled from two weeks ago, and I didn't hear back as it being shipped, I correctly assumed that this must of been it. The postman delivered the parcel in the absence of the manager fixing the toilet, and once he had departed, I opened up the parcel and looked at the contents. Finally, the removable hard drive rack and the extra tray had arrived, three weeks later after ordering it, though a total of six weeks since I began this sojurn to get a removable hard drive. I had a look at all the items in the parcel and it all seemed OK. Then the manager came back to finish fixing the toilet. It is all about entrances and exits and interleaving the two activities, much like a farce, a particular style of play.

With my mother's hard drive that failed, a Western Digital Caviar Black 640Gb, said to be one of the most reliable drives ever, I am now going to use the one that arrived last week ordered for the removable hard drive in her PC, And I will use the drive that comes from the RMA return. So a near confluence of hard drives and both hers and mine due to go to the same computer servicing shop within a week of each other, both dealing with hard drive installs. Such a coincidence, especially when one considers that both of them got built at the same time there. Call it "PC repair confluence", where two machines visit the shop for the same hardware repairs; her hard drive goes kaput in 5 months, and in my case, a voluntary repair to install a removable hard drive rack. And in the process, the hard drive intended for me, having sat in the manager's office for a week, and on my shelf for another week, now gets put in her PC, and I wait yet another week with the rack hardware waiting for the infernal warranty returned hard drive. Is there anyone out there who is going to call me on making too many inferences as to coincidences. And lets not lose track of the bigger picture; I am contained within a densified magnetic field of over 1600 gauss, measured in 2009 and in a picture that was in a posting, and lo, if these hard drives aren't a spinning set of magnetic fields. Funny that.

Back from evening class and the city bus freakshow in each direction. Though it was muted to reflect the kind of persons that might be around at that time of day.

In the two rows ahead of me there was one blonde in each, both in white jackets and offset so I could see a full picture of each's back and head, and hair of course. One was wearing a white leather jacket, and the closer one was in a puffy white ski jacket. This was the outbound trip to the college, and both got off before I did. And as it "so happened", the latter blonde had finished her shopping, getting on where she was got off at the mall, and boarded the same bus as I was on when inbound after classes, about 2245h. How is that for a coincidence, and never mind sitting nearby me again. Much better than the cluster of male yobos in the seats ahead, the ones that seem to be regulars to accompany me after classes. Them and their ridiculous skate boards and flipping them all about at the bus stop.

And on the freaky side, a white and fuchia pink haired young woman got on board about halfway through my inbound trip. I suppose she was the counterpoint to the more muted male on the outbound trip, of black hair with rows of red flecks in it. And the seating arrangements were approximately the same; me at the back on the drivers side, they on the opposite side and some 15' to 18' away, out of my straight ahead vision but with added reflections so I could see them in the glass when looking in the opposite direction.

And a minor freak out on the street, the crosswalk in fact. There were a wave of pedestrians coming at me, and I had to pick a line through them, and got ahead of a woman in a stroller when some freak came into my right side peripherial vision very fast, and I turned and looked to see what/who it was, and this semi-vagrant male was standing there in mid-crosswalk. In other words, he somehow zoomed into my peripherial vision and the instant I detected it, he stopped among the swarm of other pedestrians crossing, mouth hanging open to look extra stupid. So... it would seem that some asshole still needs to detect my defensive reactions, and possibly emulate some kind of traumatization experience. I wonder who knows more about it than I do?

And I see that the red squiggly underlining of words that aren't passing the Blogspot's impoverished vocabulary has started up as I am typing this. The spell checker suddenly got switched on and it wasn't me who did it, as all but one button at the top of this editor has been stripped of any graphic or descriptive text to tell me how to turn off this infernal spell checker. More red color games it would seem; they also like to make some of this text green in color; a letter, or even part of a letter is made green, and it reverts to black within a few seconds. More of the same; relentless and insane fuckery by the Fuckover Force; little did we suspect how much of our world is ordered by these assholes. Which makes me often wonder as to how many of the world events are arranged, given my experiences with weather being customized for my outings, and many other coincidences in the news.

One such is in Montreal, where I lived for two years to age five, and remember only a sliver of what I experienced there, all of it when aged two, none of it later. What I call the "lost years", as I should of remembered much. And so, with yet another public shooting in Montreal, after some horrific ones in the past (Marc Lapine), and knowing how often the perps like to cut me and have me bleed, could it be that this event is yet another perp effort to get some terminal blood samples from interaction with external objects in a provenance of considerable interest to them? And considering that blood has magnetic properties, and that it surely must confound their remote sensing of the magnetic interactions of their TI victims (in a densified magnetic field), could this also be a coincidence? Maybe I am stretching it here, but I will refrain from further speculation, as I would like to hear from other TI's as to their bloodletting experiences, especially related to location, and if this is a trend of their past.

Anyhow, enough of this macabre topic, even if limited to Montreal, as I could write for a few hours on this alone. Time to read some Edgar Cayce and get the lowdown on what is going on.