Pefect Confluence

1810h
A stayover at the First Feral Family home last night, waking there after a riduculously over long 9.5 hour sleep, and then after breakfast, slinging a cubic hard of compost from its pile, to another, and then back again to aerate it and add more Rot-it to accelerate it. The pile was assembled post leaf raking in November 2009 and is about a third cooked, with plenty of pine needles still evident. As mentioned many times, the perps have a total obsession over composting, and routinely have me involved in some capacity with it. Even back to the pre-overt/beserk days of 2001,on/off girlfriend Ms. C. of the story was doing her master composter's training, although it was within character, she being a earth mother type.

For once I didn't have my cacaphony of erstwhile neighbor's running their lawnmowers while pitching the compost, and the noisescape was mainly more distant sounds, save the speeding Vespa buzz.They put on the SAC bomber overflight noise, at least four times, and other aircraft, though no helicopters this time. Then they "put on" (IMHO) an eagle that was soaring in the higher winds, and when I looked up to see it, a fuzzy maser ball emanated from it and came at me. Been there, done that. Well I suppose it is a more "natural" maser experience than one emanating from a passenger aircraft, but it is all the same to me; more fucking insane and abusive harassment.

And Mondays being the return day from the FFF home are always fraught, as are events like when I purchase cooked chicken to eat, aka Chicken Run, which becomes my protein source for a week or so, depending on how much I am allowed to purchase. Lately they have been ramping up the food rot in the fridge and I wanted to get a half chicken. Not Allowed; breast pieces or legs. Which is how it has been for the past three months or longer, and no free range chicken either. And today was no different, if not worse; only one selection at the hot table with some 35 prepared bags of hot chicken.

Said chicken comes with an orange paprika seasoning, meaning orange stain on the surface of the meat. After picking up the chicken, and suffering endless Fuckwits blocking the aisles and coursing around me, I got the produce section to get some kiwi fruit. What a mistake, as there was even more gangstalkers there, and lo, if there wasn't a red (orange) haired kid of four or so standing with a black bag of groceries at the very corner I needed to turn some 90 degrees, and once I had picked up the bag of kiwi fruits, the kid walked some 6' to the other 90 degree  corner I had to make as the most expeditious way was blocked with a stocking/stalking cart with brown cardboard boxes on it, and the kid just stood there again. Fucking bizarre behavior, not to mention the shopping bag of groceries he was toting, and that he didn't seem to belong to anyone. (No other red haired adults at least).

Then the fuck out of there, as they at least did provide of minimal delay at the checkout with an lispy dude in black and white ahead of me, and then onto the street show again, replete with bounteous redcoats, red hoodies and the like. I get to the lobby and some cell phone dude was standing there, in in front of the elevator I had taken on my outbound leg, there was a 4' diameter puddle of mid-brown coffee there. So, in other words, they doused my track at the elevators in the lobby with a brown liquid, all to have me pas by it on my return with a EMF signal device (cell phone) in the hands of a gangstalker who was perfectly content to wait in front of it. So, I took the stairs. Other past proximate liquid dumpings have been Red Bull in the stairway, and coffee splats as well, though smaller than this Venti spill.

2310h
More online web surfing tonight. The big deal for my mind keepers seemed to be about me applying for two jobs online. Naturallly, (unnaturally if they weren't messing with my thoughts) the perps get me pumped as to working in them, invoking various job scenarios and the entire bullshit realm of imagining myself as working again. Not so fast; I haven't had one job interview ever, the farm ones take anybody at first, then they keep the productive ones, no problem there. One job has both field work and computer work as requirements, as well as backwoods experience, seeming to be aligning with my work experience almost exactly. We shall see; last summer it was berry picking and then daffodil bulb picking which then morphed into daily harvesting activities until there was no more work. It was interesting that they kept me to a week of bulb picking last year after doing two months of it the year before. So maybe they have something more challenging ahead for the summer.

They were all over me earlier with the compost slinging mentioned above; they had me going in and out of being under the tree crown of a nearby pine tree, jabbing me in the scalp as if the needles did it when there was at least 4" clearance. I notice I get more gangstalkers under landscape trees in the city, not to mention these elevated tree stumps they have created in the neighborhood, always with a Fuckwit in close as I go by. My backwoods hiking of 2003 to 2006 was often punctuated with on-trail gangstalkers just as the tree canopy opened up or closed down, so who knows where this bullshit is going. Maybe it wil be the summer job, assuming they don't have me flub an interview.

Onto bedtime and to comtemplate how late they are going to keep me up tonight, extending my Monday into a Tuesday as they like to do.