Dysthymic Doldrums + two days

05-28-2010
2145h
I don't think I am the only TI that is managed to be dulled out and unmotivated, and at total odds with my ususal outlook. It seems to be the managed theme of late, having me hang around and do nothing much. The concepts of idleness, work, employment and the gestalt of craft is a big deal for the sickos, and it seems they want to work me over on this angle. Even the in-town brother gets in on it, and not having communicated for at least three weeks, the first thing he asks on the phone is; "what am I doing"? Well, you should know more than I do, but anyhow...

I got $30 for helping him for two hours, me running the gasoline powered string trimmer and he buzzing around me with the gasoline powered lawn mower. Some three days later, with his gasoline powered chainsaw that idled rough and then died a few times, I used his substitute electric chainsaw to do my tree harvesting and firewood cutting landscape work at the First Feral Family house. And lo, if the neighbors didn't start their gasoline powered chain saws while I was using the electric one. It just seems the perps needed me to "graduate" from using a gasoline powered tools to electric tools that did the same thing, while the neighbors supplied the nearby noise and machine operation and all the things the perps can remotely detect from internal combustion engines. I also did some electric string trimming (weed whacking) the next day, adding to this minor theory of coincidences of the sickos making correlations between me using gasoline powered equipment and then "progressing" to electric tools. And too, having me do this at two different locations of the First Feral Family quislings.

A shut-in day today, if one doesn't include the run down the hallway to the garbage chute. Said garbage included an avocado that mysteriously got into my groceries at the checkout last night. I now see they had me "forget" at least two items while grocery shopping last night, presumably because they want to manage for the exact items to be in my shopping basket and shopping bag for the short trip back to my apartment. Such is how it has been when they first let me do my own shopping in 2003, and they haven't let up since. Shopping lists are next to useless as the assholes make me "forget" to even look at it in the store. And since about 2008, they could have me "not see" (read, remotely dithered cognition) any line item they want in any list, and even down to individual words in 2009, and now, individual alphabetic letters I have come to know firsthand in the past few months. They would call that progress, I call it escalated abuse. And never mind the times that they like to frazzle me with nonstop freaks around every corner in the grocery store.

The first public outing after a shut-in day is always a gangstalking nightmare, and after last night's nonstop freakshow and the blatant coordination of the Men in B&W (clothes) in the grocery store, I am not looking forward to the anticipated "need", (read, remotely imposed habit to further brown colored mouth contents energetics research in real time), to head out for more chocolate.

I am going to let this slide another day and tack it on for a two day post.

05-29-2010
1540h
Next day, and I got screwed into a 10 hour sleep, getting up at 1000h. The usual prior vivid but unrecalled dreams and the meat aerial games too. A continuing parade of outside vehicular traffic noise (hot rods, ill-maintanined mufflers, buses and other large transport trucks), before I got up, this being the latest in the noisescape arrangements, and laying it on extra thick for a Saturday.

And at present, distant stereo music noise, somehow getting through my earmuffs, and when I took them off, the noise was at the same volume level. Nothing new there, just to mention that they can arrange sound to be at a consistent level no matter what, and of course, are monitoring what I hear and the respective volume.

A sortie for a newspaper earlier this morning, and not quite the same freakshow as two nights ago when they set up the dark skinned Islamic woman in a red scarf immediately behind an aisle corner, with her husband in lead-ahead mode. Past postings have mentioned negroes that leap out of the back of parked vans to land 6' in front of me, and with the usual faux carelessness the assholes like to exploit, as in wasn't looking as to who might be in the way, or nearby. Other related bullshit are the assholes walking along on sidewalks with their head down for 40' or more, and coming at me on the wrong side of the sidewalk. I haven't seen anything quite so fucking stupid, and I had this twice in one bus trip. That stunt was repeated three days ago when on my way to yoga, and a male Fuckwit had his head down with a ball cap on, not looking anywhere but down while he jaywalked acrosss the street, and then whenon the sidewalk he somehow managed to miss the corner of a concrete planter and leaving me no room around the fucker. Or, at least, until I said something, the set-up for him to then look up at me. Another excuse for getting a Fuckwit in close with a sudden revelation of the face. A big deal for small minds it seems, the same gutless assholes who hound victims covertly for over 8 years without the gumption to front for their insane abuses.

If I don't like the sight of street vagrants and associated rabble, why in the fuck does a billion dollar budgeted outfit go to such bizarre lendths to arrange faux close-in sidewalk encounters? And part of that bullshit is to have me say something as well; the perps get that plenty enough when I am alone at home, but they like to stoke up this angle more often of late, when in public places. And for mentioning that, I get an overhead pounding noise eruption that gets through my earmuffs.

An interesting article from the Stranger magazine of Seattle; Things I Remember About Detroit; Five Years of Abandoned Factories, Talking Cats, and Cars on Fire. Nothing to do with TI abuses directly, but the talking cat will make you wonder what the perps, if that is the true perpetrator, get from this. The sickos wouldn't let the page display when I wanted to link to it last night, but somehow the link has been restored today, not to mention of the vehicle noise getting through my earmuffs when I did the Select. Copy and Paste Windows functions, all in keeping with the usual noise stalking I have come to know.

Another dull day it looks; no phone calls to set up more gardening work, and the sickos cutting down on the job prospects. I am coming to the conclusion that the posted jobs I get to see are nothing but a tease by the sickos; nearly every publically seen business around this place has advertised jobs, and other jobs often require many of my skillsets, if not all of them, and I don't get any calls. I reckon the perps are looking for certain neural reactions as I read the jobs; recognition of business, or of a skillset match, or of any interest in the job, even if I don't have the experience. Those wanna-be jobs as posted, seem to be as important as prospective ones from the perp's noisestalking pespective. There are a few that I aspire to but never had the training or talent; industrial designer as one, and I still have an interest in this field and have even talked to two schools at one time. But like anything, even more germane and direct routes to employment (e.g. like studying Oracle PL/SQL) just don't seem to happen. All part of the Big Suckdown it seems. Even my drawing classes I took in 1999 to 2000 in Seattle were never followed up by practice on my own, and for the longest time I could never figure this out. If I am interested, then why don't I do it? And when one comes to realize that the Big Suckdown is upon one, and they don't like their victims to be competent or capable, and nor do they like continuous improvement of craft, it all makes sense. More to them than me of course, as I don't know why discontinuous activities are so sought and managed for by so strange of an entity.

1815h
Reading my regular bloggers brought on the overhead clunking and hallway voices, both somehow getting through my earmuffs. Which begs the question; have I met any of the bloggers in some kind of morphed form so I wouldn't recognize them? I wouldn't doubt it, as the perp imperative seems to revolve around determining some kind of intrinsic connection between individuals that is; free from recognition (of the person/blogger), free from even their name (talking up someone of no consequence seems to be important), and expecting some kind of psychic connection to reading their work/postings. And too, the assholes have been noisestalking for all the obits out on Dennis Hopper today. The sickos like to harass me when reading obits, and not just the celebrities or other famous.

And some kind off tension in my head, behind my eyes, as in prefrontal cortex area, PFC they call it in the neurology business. And before that, heavy siren noise, at least the fifth time today. The same noise came on when eating my kiwi fruit, preceded by a few minutes earlier when eating my brown tortilla/quesadilla. One of those dull Saturdays again, when the perp action is clunking, and cognitive dithering.

05-30-2010
1105h
The roaring noise of a motorcycle heard through my earmuffs, as if I had none on, brings be back to this "alternity" as John C. Lilly describes the consensual normality. I wonder what term he would use for the TI experience; abusity perhaps, rape-a-rama?

I got to read some of A Nation Betrayed by Carol Rutz last night, in a rare real book read. And I read that she visited Dr. Ewan Cameron at McGill University, of nonconsensual human experimentation infamy, and she was 12 y.o. at the time. Which sharply defines the fact that he wasn't all about treating adults with radical and unproven clinial methods (aka abuses), as no child would of been at his facility under clinical pretenses. One would not of had a 12 y.o. psychiatric patient in that day (1950's), and it would be very rare now to have a hospitalized child psychiatric patient. One of the "treatments" she has was to be imobilized with a muscle relaxant called curare, and then put in a sealed box with snakes in it. She couldn't do anything but look, assuming there was light enough to see. Which makes me wonder why my tormenting sickos like to present pictures and stories of snakes to me. And when I was hiking from 2003 to mid 2006, there were an inordinant number of snakes on the trail, and even more arrangements of sticks and roots to look like snakeskin. For the record, I lived in Montreal for two years, 1956-57 and 1958-59, and I have no recollection of what transpired there, save a few scattered recollections, and I was begining to form long term memories in 1956, when aged two. But for some reason all that period was blanked out, by someone for some reasons, and my family never mentioned why, nor did they mention two separate visits there when my few recollections were of the first one. Somehow they knew I had some recollections, but were never specific as to which time frame. Clever that.

I was about 12 years old, and what Dr. Cameron did to me became burned in my mind. First, I was given a shot of curare and placed in a box in a converted stable behind the hospital that housed a behavioral laboratory. Then snakes were put over my body and the lid was closed in the box. I was completely conscious, but unable to move as a result of the curare. This was to insure that I would never speak about what was to come later. [32] At the end of my programming by Dr. Cameron, a [taped] voice gave me trigger codes for self-destruction. This was done to prevent me from telling about the nature of this experiment in the event I would ever begin to remember. P. 48, 52
I Carol Rutz' case, she formed alter personalities when the abuse was too much, and some formed as early as two years old, some when aged 12. To my knowledge I have no alternate personalities, and I think I would know by now as they start "leaking in" after age 30 from what I have read. But it is mysterious as to why some of the TI/MKULTRA victims were allowed, if not encouraged, to form multiple personalities and some were covertly blanked out, with no recall save those subconscious recollections that the perps seem to hound me with gangstalkers and set ups, mostly identified in the Unfavored categories, see posting on the Favored and Unfavored to the right.

Another item I learned from reading Carol Rutz' book last night was that she was transported by aircraft to various sites, and near the end of the flight she was given an injection to have her fall asleep. Then she was transported out of the aircraft in a box, so not to draw attention to the fact that a child was on board. Interesting, the level of detail that was covered up.

And I read that Carol Rutz recalled the nature of Dr. Cameron's electroshock therapy, and that it was highly intrusive and debilitating and done until the patient was rendered 

I got zapped last night while in bed, before getting to sleep, also with a simultaneous clunking noise. This seems to be the prefered combination of fuckery at that time, settling into the horizontal after being seated for much of the day. No wonder they send out gangstalkers in wheelchairs and related motorized devices to noiselessly tail me for a block or so. Though I suspect there is more to the wheelchair aspect of the Unfavored than that, as I cannot stand to look at the things, and the sickos know that, and plant more of them around me. "Swamping" of the Unfavored seems to be a bigger deal of late; putting on multiple skinheads for example, four or more in the supermarket, and popping out from behind aisles, and even doing Coffee Corps duty of carrying cups of coffee, a typical gangstalker color prop.

I am going to wrap this one up today, as I have been a total slouch in not getting this out for the past three days. More of the imposed doldrums again, and who knows what today's (a Sunday) First Feral Family visit will bring, besides extra hundreds of color and size coordinated vehicles. If nothing else, I get my overdose of cakes, cookies and other carbohydrates that I avoid all week. That, and my weekly red meat dose.