Saturday, April 03, 2010

Easter Saturday

A mid-level  harassment morning, with faked touches, crumb inundations, extra kinetic and crumbly coconut "butter" (more solid than soft, and no cohesion), faked noises (e.g. clattering of cutlery items after being picked up), vision impairments while making coffee (brown substance interaction) and others. The food in my mouth is always teleported to my outside teeth, and often when bringing it into my mouth with the aid of my tongue, why, noisestalking erupts when the food crosses over my teeth. I never had so much food aggregating on the outside of my teeth before, and it suddenly erupted in late 2003, and hasn't abated in the least.

A downtown visit to the ATM, with Asian girls standing with their coffee cups in mid sidewalk, and my lead-ahead vagrant gangstalker tailing me in there. I was to go into the line for a teller, but with this fucker on me I opted for the ATM. Then onto the sweet shop for an Easter egg for my daughter tomorrow, and then to get a newspaper, and that was it. A green $20 expended and a blue $5, and gangstalkers on me at both places. I even got the gangstalkers outside, and then arriving in the store, somehow finding me there when they seemed to be putzing around on the street at the time.

No doubt the perps got some mileage from the branches and leaves that were down all over town, and the brown cardboard too, as there was a windstorm for most of yesterday, with 100,000 residences without power for much of the day. Not here by dint of ascribed intervention, as the assholes just love me to be on the PC where all manner of maser and plasma emanations erupt and come straight at me with a changeable color background. They have also been big on greying text on this LCD; an update popup box comes up, the entire background is darkened down, and then when selected, the text is then brightened up back to normal and the pop-up disappears. There have been other non-standard text dimming on this blog as I compose it, where only part of the text goes dim, and not all of it. But as text presentation fuckery has been going on since 2003, it isn't a big stretch to see the assholes escalating the nonsense.

The morning time coconut butter crumb games have been the source of planted notions of dealing with the hassle by buying a blender, and putting it and whatever else in and creating a protein drink instead. Good idea, probably not mine, but no go with the expense of the blender, as my inclination is to get a good one, meaning more $ with no job. After three days of this standoff, all likely planted in mind, they deliver a solution that won't cost anything; mash the coconut up with the jam in a small dish (purchased 6 months ago), and spread this matrix on the bread instead. It might work, and I might try it tomorrow if my recall isn't messed with. But the real question is, what is the entire point of this mind-fuck exercise that the perps pulled on me? I just don't get these arranged mental impasses, then followed by supplied solutions that they likely formulated months ago. It is plain fucking bizarre that even untenable solutions are kept playing in the mind of the TI victim, and in my case, the planted notion would of been summarily dismissed and not ever considered again.

Some overhead ceiling/floor tapping has arrived following a tea and chocolate break. These sounds nearly always get through my earmuffs, so I take them off. I gather the perps are long past assigning this noise to a probable cause as it comes on anytime, and a Saturday is an odd day for repairs.

The month end account reconciliation  were done with the usual imposed sabotage; typos, miskeys, visual impairment, added extra lines in bank statement when I looked at it again, wrong classification "mistake", addition mistakes, and "forgets" on seeing relevant items on the reciept to classify. This the activity the perps find so fascinating, updating Quicken to the online bank statement with all the recipts in hand to then categorize all my expenditures. The assholes finally allowed me to access the directional buttons on the bank statement; I was able to flip the date order of the transactions to ascending by date, the way it is laid out in Quicken. The assholes haven't allowed me that "luxury" until today, even with the buttons there, they didn't work for some reason. So..., for the past four years I have had the more difficult chore of reading down in Quicken and up in my online bank statement, and almost needless to day, it was the cause of endless fuckery in screwing me over as to which to read up or down. And that particular mental sabotage was the provocation to many imposed rage shows, and it might be over in that instance, but one cannot be totally sure. I was doing fine for a few years, and then they learned how to dither my cognition as to which account was read in which direction.

Some forced ponder time over the safety toed boots they had me purchase in Aug. 2008, never to be used as the intended employment never materialized. LIke what do I care, as I have long forgotten about them as an aberration of mind-fuck games at the time? And of late, while making dinner, they have me ponder their rationale as to why they sent me on a Cognos BI course about 9 months before they went overt-beserk in 04-2002. Again, what do I care; I have no idea as to what their motives are, and to what degree are they going to arrange past efforts in the future. The implied suggestion is that I will be allowed a better paying job given the recent flush of consumer minded acquisitions they dwell upon, the blender mentioned above being one example.

The restless feet imposition while reading Edgar Cayce's material. I was forced to take off my shoes as this was the deemed problem, but no, it was plain mind-fucking again. There must be some big deal over this web site and its contents. He might of been a TI, and recieved this wisdom from the Thems. Maybe it is going to be a book reading night tonight. As with last night, the flourescent light in the kitchen is not working, and the stand-off with the management continues until the manager gets back from the long weekend. Funny how that happens, these lights popping off just before the responsible party takes off and the flake who is manning the phone as a substitute has a rationale that keeps the impasse in place.

And I see that the perps have depowered the floor standing halogen lamp I have, making the light even more yellow and faint than last night. I discovered that halogen lights emit EMF, magnetic radiation, when I had my field strength meter working. I notice my mother puts hers on and off frequently, so it must be deleterious to the jerkaround cause in some respects. The other halogen lamp, a desktop one, also got neutered for light output as the perps cooked the transformer for it, and the substitute transformer, even with the same odd prongs, somehow just doesn't supply enough power for a useful light.

Some bookmark cleaning, and I find an article about Dr. Carey Reams and his Biological Theory of Ionization. This is interesting, as he states the interaction of a cation and an anion creates energy, and it also has much to do with the soil's contribution to the plant's phyiology and by extension, food value. As I have mentioned many times, the perps are constantly arranging soil digging jobs for me; plant harvesting, weeding and even growing oversight. That I have had five rounds of working on farms in the last two years suggests this theory might be near and dear to the perp's objectives over the energetic properties of soil and how it confers those of the plants that grow in it, and in turn, the food crops we eat from the soil. I won't detail all the variations of soils and crops and agricultural jobs, but suffice to say it seems to be a big deal, as does the skin color of the farm laborer, TI victim or whoever they select to fuck with.

More troving through refractometer testing of plant health and nutrition while the vison attacks are building with a continuing background of restless feet. One interview, and then the links to the "brix book" if you are into asessing food quality.

Onto bedtime and likely no posting omorrow unless some spectacular abuse erupts before 1000h.

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