That is, 4'x4' boxes 9" high made of landscape ties, those faux logs with the flat sides on them so they can be stacked one on top of the other, thre high in this case. And it marks the third such construction at the First Feral Family (FFF) home in three years, one per year. This one is in the front and next to the driveway, destined not for gardening like the previous two, but as an adjacent platform to place the garbage cans on so they aren't in the driveway or pitched on the landscaped slope. And don't ask me what the perps need/get from these constructions, though they do like me handling wood, and these are cores from plywood veneer slicing, the center part that is too small to spin on the plywood cutting lathes.
And they would have some kind of energetic signature as to the time when the tree was a narrow diameter until it grew larger. Other than that vague statement, I have no idea why the perps undertake "wood-stalking", but one can be sure that this is a constant. They had the wood in the back of the pickup truck parked at the curb this morning when setting off for the ATM. And I was strangely compelled to remove my work gloves and handle the wood with my bare hands when cutting these landscape ties with a cross cut saw. And when measuring the cut length, the next door neighbor erupted in a cough/barf noise, repeating his disgusting signature eruptions from yesterday.
At least six SAC bombers passed overhead for the five hours, or the sound thereof while I was at the FFF home and working on this project today. And they even put on a helicopter to circle the house twice while I was working in the front. And plenty of other aircraft, one being a passenger flight on its way to the airport. As mentioned before, I thought the SAC bombers were on random route assignments, and would never be so predictable as travelling the same route one after another.
I was also up to soil sifting as part of this job, and the perps do love that. So much in fact, they send in the Kiddie Corps to loiter on the street and do their dude talking thing. Or else the pink and fuschia paired girls, 6 to 8 y.o. it seemed, to strangely stop on the street at the driveway entrance and stand there and talk. Once, in another location, and getting gangstalked with kiddies on the other side of the fence that bounded the adjacent schoolyard, I asked them how much they get "to do this" (gangstalking). One said $20, and another added something to the effect of... [got mindfucked as to what transpired, but it was something to the effect of "we don't get paid to do this"]. I thought it was odd that "this" was understood, though not stated.
And the last spike in the landscaping ties was just driven home when my mother erupted from the house to comment that I had elected to finish the box building job, when I had said that I wasn't going to earlier. As always, these kinds of mindfucks of intentions that get dismissed or forgotten, and then a rash of planted rationalizations as to a good reason to continue, and so I did. (I had decided that I didn't want to go through re-stacking the cut landscape ties, and finish it so I could get all the the tools back to my in-town brother). For once, a job went quicker than planned, a true rarity in the annals of this total life rape/abuse. Last year they constantly screwed me around when leveling the landscape ties, making me build it higher when the level read lower, and one transposed reading/job intention after the other, working me into a high rage state. It took me over an hour to level the first row of landscape ties last year, 90% of it related to being cognitively fucked over. Today, I didn't get this particular mindfuck, for whatever reason, especially when I do this once per year.
Some vivid dreams about re-furbishing castles in Romainia this morning before waking up. I have never been there, and don't have any known family lineage from there, so I don't know what it was about. Though, Romainia may make the news in a week if past is prologue.
A city bus trip in both directions today, and the usual flush of freaks and surfeit of non-dayjob males, whom I call shiftless males. I don't know where all these fuckers are coming from, but there is plenty of them, and they have the oddest beat. One of my 2005 to 2006 residence stalkers from two blocks away was on the bus today when I got on. Supposedly retired, but manages to "show up" some 5 to 10x per year, usually in front of this apartment building, but today he "somehow" got on the bus ahead of me when it made no sense in relation to where he (purportedly) lives. I get to keep a history of where the regular gangstalkers live, and what their beat is. Lucky me.
And the sickos are upping the negro gangstalking again; one on the bus outbound, one at my embarkation stop inbound, two just when I got off the bus, and another at the pharmacy I went to after getting off the bus. And the deep brown colored vehicle gangstalking has also increased, the assholes putting on more, and earlier, but still singly. The light metallic brown colored vehicles are still getting plenty of gangstalking time, and will even show up in twos, usually travelling opposite or orthogonal directions, rarely clustered or in file. Moving up the brown scale it would seem, however they measure that, and whatever they do to me so that I don't have adverse subconscious reactions. I haven't quite figured out what they are doing; are they removing my subconscious traumatization associations or are they finding a way around them? Ditto for the plastics and other ubiqutitous pollutants in me that seem to be a problem, including plastic in my lungs. Are they removing the pollutants or are they better able to quantify them remotely? Don't know, don't care, and leave me the fuck alone, it is that simple.
Other insane fuckery when doing gardening duties at the FFF home today were the first two back to back instances of placing a pin head size of gravity defying dirt on my glasses, in my central vision. Note that the dirt was not muddy, and no dirt flicked onto my face, but there it was, a small wad of it stuck on the glasses and not coming off. One of them was on the inside face of the lens. The big harassment objective was to have me take off my glasses, then my gloves to then flick the offending dirt off the lens. A big thrill for some juvie sicko to put me through that bullshit. And if I get restituion for that one, its a bat to the chops for each instance of this dumbshit exercise.
Same pic, just zoomed in to show this ridiculous level of surrounding fugly colored vehicles, (and, a fugly vehicle, the Nissan Cube) with the more acceptable (to me) silver-grey colored vehicles. And I am sure it helped the perp cause that I owned a silver-grey vehicle from 1990 to 2006. They took out all the meter heads and went to the centralized blue parking meter kiosks you see in mid lower picture. I suspect the meterheads were giving off too much EMF for the sickos to contain it. Plus, it helps the perp cause to do extra back and forthing between the kiosk and the just-parked vehicle. Taken 04-24-2010.
That's it for today; away doing FFF home maintenance for the drive by vehicle noise, the overflight noise and the passing kiddie chat/loitering. I wonder what the next paying gig is going to entail; this kind of variety or back to the farm again?
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