Thursday, April 22, 2010

Breakfast Time Abuse

More strange dreams of being chased and hounded this morning before getting up. I am finding this theme to be highly annoying as I get plenty of it in real form and don't need any extra exposure while resting.

And the last of the coconut butter in the jar might have been the beserk rationale for laying on extra enraging abuse this morning. Such things are important to the assholes, which included finding a paper label on the bottom of the jar, another first. Not only is there extra claning noise erupting, even if the spoon isn't in contact with the glass jar, but crumbs form on the edge of the spoon, and when I use my finger to clean them off, why, they migrate just ahead of my finger and then have to be picked up off the front or back of the spoon. And then they can migrate again, back to the edge to repeat this insane crumb fucking inanity that has escalated in a similar way for all other crumb types.

The crumb fucking also erupted without visible cause for the coffee, a skiff of it just flew off the top of the spoonful that was over the carafe and about to be deposited in there. This 10 crumb flight was without any of the usual guises of wobbling the spoon or my hand, and was only a momentary pause of less than a second, and it just flew off. Other crumbs arrived in the long running jerkaround that the perps play when the coffee press and stem are placed on the stove, there is usually an arrival of some 10 to 20 crumbs, of no ostensible cause, as it is totally clean. Besides, these crumbs are usually oversized as my coffee is ground much finer, almost to a powder, and yet the seeming coffee crumbs are always the same size, wet or dried. Another batch of like crumbs arrives on the dishes drain mat, as if they had dropped from the just cleaned coffee pot and press stem, and again, both are totally clean and rinsed and yet these oversized coffee crumbs consistently erupt all to have me move them out with my fingers. And having me make finger or body contact with objects of interest, especially plastics is always a big deal for the assholes, as if shaving wasn't enough in one day, given the barrage of senseless jerkarounds that go with that exercise every day.

Other breakfast time abuse to raise the rage level was to fuck my vision so I couldn't see the application of the jam on the coconut butter. In a blatant mind fuck, along with a blatant unconventional change of the coconut butter's physical properties, they had me spread the coconut butter on the toast, and then the jam on top of it. But, as it happens, coconut butter isn't spreadable at room temperature, it is too crumbly. No problem for the perps though, they messed with it somehow so it was spreadable for the last week, even if I didn't apply it in that form. The routine has been to mix the coconut butter and the jam in a small vessel into a spreadable paste, and after the games of transferring it to the toast are over, I apply this red mix to the sound of much noisestalking and some vision impairment fuckery. But today, the assholes mindfucked me out of this habit, and didn't let me know until I get to notice that the coconut butter, in its spreadable version, is on the toast, but only after the jam is placed in the small vessel. This is common, fucking my habitual routines and then allowing me to notice in mid-task that I got totally mind-fucked into doing it incorrectly. Today's solution was to spread the coconut butter on the toast, (a first, as it was never spreadable before), then retrieve the jam and spread it on the coconut. This moment was too exciting for the vision fucking department who then promptly fucked my vision while doing this for the first time, and backed off when I screamed at the assholes, the usual outcome.

There were a few more instignating jerkarounds at breakfast, and somehow they slipped out of recall, as it seems they don't want anyone else to know. With the end of the coconut butter, the jar gets cleaned out for recycling, and this too is a moment of fuckery as somehow it doesn't get cleaned out on the first pass, and I have to reapply the brush to clean it again, all to vocalized disagreement as to how the mess stayed in the jar when it was thoroughly cleaned the first time. This is one reason I find that unexpected results from large industrial processes that cause re-work are interesting as the assholes put me through the same kind of activity. Projects like the Large Hadron Collider that had to be fixed, just built vessels that have to be drydocked due to a erroneous sensor and the like, share similar parallels to what the perps do to me; creating extra re-work. And in the past, with my employers participation; building a database three times due to "unforseen" technology changes or contractor fraud.

And they even got the army out on my way back from yoga, replicating past Thursdays when this was an every time post-yoga occurence for some six months in 2007. Two army twits in camo and their funny olive drab berets just "happened" to be on the street and entering the off/on convenience store close to this apartment building. AND, there is no army detachment in this town anymore, so where did they come from?

The big run up was staying behind at yoga for 40 min. with just the instructor and talking about challenging poses, relaxing and then doing some of these poses just with her. She put out the deep burgundy colored mats for this impromptu session, the mats I normally avoid. And also, in keeping with other feints and fuckarounds of late, taking off my shoes, socks and jacket shortly after putting them back on. The perps pulled this same stunt on me three days ago when I put on my freshly laundered olive colored shirt, only to find there was a fine navy blue lint film on it. It got pulled off after being on for less than a minute, and so it was placed to the laundry hamper, likely as some kind of energetic  reference for just-laundered, dresser stored and briefly worn shirts.

Other yoga related machinations were to move the class to the adjacent room, though not without the usual overhead clunking and clattering that marks every class start. And they put the negro woman on again, sucking on a cigarette when I walked in, and then she shows up later before class started. They put a negro gangstalker woman in a total scarlet red outfit on my way to yoga, and then put the loafing male gangstalker in the lobby of the building when I returned. I suppose they wanted to keep the negro exposure up, and got me close to my place for both outbound and inbound journey legs. As usual, crumbs, pebbles and lint arrived around me like in the other room to have me pick them off at various times during the class.

And more machinations online in pictures and like images to make there seem to be negro-like Caucasians, or else some in a very dark lit image. The sickos cannot get enough negro emulation images in front of me it would seem, as they continue to peck away at this particular class of objective, possibly from trauma associations when locked in cages with negro children of my age duing the memory blanked out years, as pictured in the Indian Lake Project blog. Though I suspect there is a lot more to it than simply that, given the elaborate set ups of the past.

I also got my wacko in white on my way back from yoga; the ever consistent "pop out" of a Fuckwit from a adjacent kitchen or commercial painting job, just "happening" to erupt nearby, and tail me. Or else, be seen from further back in total like yesterday's long haired male in white. The sickos have been heavy on the MIW, Men In White this week, having them erupt singly or in groups. The even went so far to "blonde-ify" this particular color of garment, having a blonde woman walk past on the street below, in a white jacket. So why are white coats and pants of interest to the Fuckwits who seem to take every opportunity of this particular dress mode to show me a specimen, or a cluster of them?

I was allowed to read a longer news posting, and lo, if the overhead clunking and pounding didn't start up, somehow occuring overhead and getting through my earmuffs. Without my earmuffs on now, the noise continues, but at a reduced volume, and very much the same volume level as I heard through the earmuffs. Interesting that the assholes can keep the noise volume the same, with or without hearing protective earmuffs on. And for typing this, I get a shot of pain into my left jaw.

The pre-dusk onset reflective light games are starting up for 2010. This is where light reflects off the tall residential buildings' glass and right into this apartment with unerring precision. There are three buildings that "do this", each in turn with the sun in the W., and each of these have been photographed with the images in this blog, 2009 for sure. And the closest building, is a tall residential tower that also supplies a generalized reflection that fills this apartment to create some interesting lighting and contrast games the perps like to apply at this time of the solar day. And they did some window reflection games a few days ago as the start of 2010 directed window "reflections" games.

And a post-downnload and install timing for my meagre dinner tonight. The activities of downloading and installing files is also of significant perp interest, often noisestalked, but today they decided that the aforementioned lighting games and pre-dinner software installation was what they wanted. I am sure this activity has been followed in past incarnations by lunch, and even a forced pee.

An evening time tea and chocolate while the PC was running the infernal Mozy backup that goes in fits and starts, and only when I initiate it. It will be good for another overnight run with the PC lights flashing and twinkling while I sleep. Someone had this figured out long ago.

The perps decided to choke me and have me cough while having tea, and then infuriate me all the more with continued jerkarounds of the same kind. Their latest stunt is to fly spittle out of my mouth when screaming at the assholes, and of course to bring it to my attention to raise the rage-ification level one more notch. Another never-before, this spittle ejection fuckery. So far, not on the street like the wads of it they arrange for me on my walking beat. I have been witness to it arriving, and they can make it arrive by teleportation immediately in front of the assigned operative as if it were from them, which it might of been, but is not ejected by the operative; it arrives with a splat at their feet, a foot in front of them or so. Their method of being disgusting in public while not been seen looking disgusting it would seem. Very clever.

Though not all operatives get this honor, as a woman was spitting on the street, twice in fact, four days ago when wallking down Yates St., with my mother to the parkade, as the closer one "happened" to be full and thereby force an extra two block walk. Funny how that happens, these protracted exercises.

And on the MIW's topic again; later, but before dinner time, they put on a Fuckwit running on the sidewalk below as I "happened" to cross the floor to the kitchen, a dude in a white ball cap and a white shoulder portion of this jacket, with the lower portion a navy blue. This was in the same place as the above mentioned "blonde-ified" woman in white, so I assume this was all about location referential color games, just a dude instead of the blonde, and more acceptable navy blue color as a Favored color association. Stupider and stupider it gets.

Enough of today's games, though tomorrow looks to be wash, as in a shut-in day, as there are no appointments scheduled. One can never be sure if a sudden Feral Family event will erupt, so who knows. A Chicken Run tomorrow is scripted, a whole ten minute exercise/round trip.

And I see Mindcontrolforums (dot com) is down, and I might just be the last TI to know that, given how these events so often reach me last. And that should be one site to keep, as not only does it have my stories on it, but over 700 other TI's, a vital nexus of this state of abuse and attempting to get some respect. I don't know of any TI who is flush, so I will leave it at that. My own job aspirations seem to be still obstructed; I don't know how many farms I have responded to, and I get no answers, even with some five months of experience ending in late 2009. Blogging off....

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