Sunday, August 29, 2010

Are There Cooperating TI's?

Aug. 23, 2010
A day of daffodil bulb picking in the field, just when I had assumed I would be on conveyor work at the warehouse. Well, I suppose, getting me and my new kneepads out there in the field was important, and so more kneepad time. These have some kind of gel inserts, so doubtless it will be of intense interest, a change up from the foam type. As mentioned many times, one's knees seem to be important for the sickos, as it must be some kind of chi energy center. I say this because I have had some remotely invoked knee pain, but also the gangstalkers like to put on a knee brace on one knee, usually black in color. Another time (2008), during a daffodil bulb throwing episode in which I was not involved in, one of the miscreants/operatives managed to throw one and nail me in the side of the right knee. And so, we are still at it, and too, the sickos will force me out tonight to get the Rx, and no doubt swarm me as my knees will likely be still emanating energy from the gel insert kneepads.

Back to the lead-in title question; the answer is that I don't know for sure, but I am begining to suspect that it is true. The twosome that arrived as casual labor on Friday, Aug. 20, 2010, for the daffodil farm work, were there again today, a Monday. As mentioned in the last post, they are identical in body form to two of the TI's I met the weekend before; one very large, and the other large. Different faces, but dead ringers if I looked from the neck down. As mentioned,  they seem to be making an effort to hang around me, and featuring themselves. And it was the same today. One of the TI's I have known for three years, and I believe she is legit. But she has baited me into past conversations that were set-up in hindsight, not to mention doing some brown latte bearing work in my presence when we met at a presentation last year.

Anyhow, whether morphed over or not, I don't really care, and the perps seem to be managing my "reaction" to one of suspicion, as they seem to know some things about the farm warehouse that only experienced workers would know, e.g. the supply of bottled water.

Aug. 24, 2010
Back from a hot day of daffodil bulb picking on the farm. Its what I do for $9/hour to augment this disability bullshit I recieve. I cannot think of a more physically taxing job, and here I am, in my third year of it.

And today was production count day, enumerating our filled boxes of daffodil bulbs, making for a minor gong show as the 20 or so bulb pickers were spread over 300' of farm field. The supervisor gave the enumeration job to several bulb pickers in turn, saving him the inconvenience. And so, my read was that this activity was tested by various males, each wearing different colors of clothing, hats even, and that this was important for the sickos. Tomorrow, I suspect, it will be the turn of Asians, females, and maybe the one token negro, the same dude that slammed me on the bus and then "shows up" at the farm as a prosepctive employee who then signs up. The next day he gives me a small shot in the back while weeding at a joint crew exercise. Needless to say, the karma is toxic, as the fucker doesn't know the meaning of the word "apology". Apalling maybe, but I won't tell him that.

Today, in the crew bus he sits next to the Cambodian dude who has followed me from the last farm job, on the buses, and then on the bulb picking job. But suddenly the Cambodian dude gets up, makes some excuse and sits at the back where there is no seat, just a heater. So..., the negro moves one seat sideways to then sit where the Cambodian dude was, and the other seat of the pair remained vacant. Like I said, there is nothing more inane that the perps like to engage in than their consumption of seat swapping, especially in inter-racial situations. (Or, having only negroes swap seats). This little vignette played in front of me, and it was only a five minute drive to the bulb fields in the crew bus.

The sirens have started up as I type, but I will mention that the recent headpains the sickos have been delivering over the past week have largely abated today.

Aug. 26
I see that my last entry got deleted, so here it is again. The assholes shut down my internet last night, as the ISP declared a "problem" after I was put through re-booting my router 5x or more.

More daffodil bulb picking, this time I was one of three tally folk, keeping track of a sub-set of daffodil bulb pickers and their bulb picking production. (It is in boxes, 24" x 14" or so, 8" deep, and to be filled to the handle level and then stacked in a particular row to facilitate later pick up with a truck). Which means I get my name called some 120x or more during the day, as we are spread along 300' of field rows.

They put the same negro on again, the one I know as Shover, as he gave me a shove when seated on the bus, and the next day at work, They, negro-ed me again with him at the homebound bus stop, and then on board with him and at least 4 more negroes of two parties. One negro woman had these disgusting square patches in her hair, making her hair worse than dreadlocks. I didn't think it was possible, but a new low in disgusting hair, aka "hurl do's" was attained today.

Back to name calling: there have been two incidents in the past 8 years where someone who didn't know me was calling out my name from afar. This time it is legit, as the bulb picking crew know me, and are calling me to note how many boxes they have filled since I last counted them. The perps do have a minor obsession as to having others call me by my name, or getting it totally incorrect, or getting hung up on the given names, as my first name is not the one I go by. Don't ask me why this is important to the assholes, but it is, and there has been no end of games related to this, including asking if I related to Howard Hughes, which I am not.

Aug. 27

An unexpected change in the farm laborer job as I was to be picking bulbs in the field, but the foreman came and wanted me and an Asian woman to be on their daffodil bulb sorting conveyor line instead. We got to sit in his orange vehicle while he gave instructions to the crew around us. The Shover Negro featured himself in the driver's side rear view mirror when I "happened" to look there, and the schizonphrenic woman was front and center visible through the windsheild.

Got screwed twice; "forgetting" a box of bulbs to sort, and then "forgetting" to put the conveyor belt on and backing up the system that then created a flood of bulbs for the downstream bulb evaluators. Great fun for the sickos, screwing me around when I don't ever make those mistakes.

And what's with the hoodie nonsense? Not only more of them, but the token Punjabi couple (he in a yellow turban), have taken to putting hoodies on too. A black hoodie over a yellow turban looks fucking ridiculous, and maybe it is for the perp's longstanding game of slow reveals of Unfavored clothing (any kind of head adornment).

Aug. 28, 2010
Another day of loading daffodil bulbs into the conveyor hopper, and keeping the downstream bulb sorting personnel busy, but not too much so that they miss rotten bulbs. After one 10 second visit to the sort line I picked up two rotten bulbs that passed by the last person so I reduced the volume of bulbs so they had more time to devote to looking at them. Mostly, one does it by feel when selecting the more suspect bulbs, as obvious ones can be let by.

I had the white dust mask on again, a seeming perp prop as it gives them that white surface on my face, along with the black foam on the inside to augment sealing, as well as an aluminum strip to set the nose shape, and yellow elastic bands to hold it on my head. Strangely, there was a surfeit of red vehicles when waiting for the city bus afterward, almost one in two was red for the 15 minute wait for the Saturday bus, not the usual double decker. I had my co-workers seated nearby, a blind dude with his white folded cane at his crotch, an Elvis-like dude with a guitar on the back shelf, the skateboarder dude with the board between his legs for the trip and a few other "thuggy buddies" also, and one babe whom I saw on the morning bus.

The entertaining talk among us farm workers on the city bus home was the schizoid woman who came for the past week, and how odd she was and the first time reaction of unsuspecting co-workers. According to the foreman, she really is schizophrenic as he has clinical training as a former mental health care worker. But as she also has a habit of "showing up" for a parade of three three in file through the door as I was about to enter it, and other "coincidences" of placing herself in my proximity, I have to wonder what the real story is. It is common for the perps to present someone who is seemingly well balanced at first and then slides into delusional or contradictory illogic, and then sounding a noise (or keeping the background chatter going) just as I figure out the person is batshit crazy. My ex was a little like that, going irrational when there was any tension in the household, usually due to her undisclosed financial state. And so, here we are again, planting the head cases for me to detect and then ponder how to extricate myself from the circumstances. In the ex's case it was divorce of course, but that show ran for five years longer than it should of, cranking up the stupid level and having me to parry it with rational objections. The final denouement being the hobby farm she couldn't handle, and wanted to bail out of by renting somewhere else. Some solution that was, and thankfully she stayed until the end so the infernal place could be sold, yet another real estate asset losing outcome.

So, this is the eve of having a day off, that being tomorrow, and when I will finish up this blog posting, as it is now down to once per week with the farm laborer job taking so much time as well as the city bus commute.

I was to stop in a bookstore on the way back from the bus stop, and as I opened the door, a file of five gangstalkers were in position to file out the front door, one immediately behind the other, as I held it open. I immediately had the "fuck that" notion, likely planted, let the door go and kept walking back to my apartment. All week the perps have pumped me to get the "Shock Doctrine", part of which I have read, and then when the time comes to enter the bookstore where it is on hold, they pull this doorway obstruction/mindfuck stunt such that I am foiled in attaining what I had intended. This is similar to leading me with expectations, and then having them dissipate with some contrived jerkaround at the last moment. (Also called "dashed expectations"). I don't know what they get from this juvenility, but it is so consistent there must be something really vital for them to remotely detect.

Today, I had the tan-through shirt on, following two days of partial cloudy days when I wore my SPF long sleeved shirt. The intent was to have the SPF (sunlight blocking) shirt take the dirt instead of my bare arms collecting dust, and becoming part of the ongoing sunlight-to-skin games that is a consistent theme of the harassment activity. "Somehow" I "forgot" and I put on the tan-through shirt again when I thought I was through with them for the summer. It seems that even a short spell out in the sunlight attracts co-workers (read, gangstalkers), and so it goes. All but one of the the conveyor workers are out of the sun after the first hour, and I am in the sun for the entire day, as the conveyor feeds through the wall. The one person at the end of the conveyor is in and out of the sun, depending on how fast the bulb boxes are filling up, and this cycling of in/out of direct sunlight, and the respective energetic interactions (or electromagnetic interactions if you prefer), seems to be a huge part of the harasssment/experimentation agenda.

There are so many large themes of the perp agenda; the above mentioned sunlight-on-skin interactions, and one that has been plain for some time, water supply, what kind and color of pipes it comes through, which includes the watering of the vegetative crops that I eat. The use of aluminum irrigation pipes seems to be a big part of the current perp testing, as the irrigation workers somehow trashed the $20k water gun with a 10' poly hose reel on it in 2008. This year, the water gun is fixed, but used sparingly with most of the irrigation still done by aluminum pipes. And I see the odd 10' poly hose/water gun being towed past the city bus stop when waiting after a day's work, so it seems that the perps are still busy on attempting to unravel the energetic effects of drinking/irrigating from poly hoses, PVC and aluminum pipe. Endless permutations and combinations, much of it related to the color of the pipe or hose, including that of gardening at my mother's place.

Aug. 29, 2010
A missing half hour this morning, as the usual breakfast routine took longer than normal, and I have no idea how it happened. Perhaps it was to allow time for the sickos to accelerate my breakfast digestion, as they forced me to take a shit after my shower and before shaving, and then back in the shower to clean up. This is the third crap in less than 24 hours, a near record, as usually they run me from three to five days without one. Where it goes is unknown, and I suspect they maybe doing some of their teleporting tricks to fill up the septic service vehicles that frequent my proximity. Just speculative of course, but given the perp's long standing need to interfere will bowel movements and plug toilets, as in literally harassed up the asshole, and all things brown, their fuckery knows no bounds.

And the cleaning urge struck again while the laundry was on earlier. Today it was floors, bathroom and kitchen and kitchen cabinets. It is unusual that they have be do both in one day, but I suppose the prescribed single room cleaning activity is allowed to become more complex. Back in the first months of living this apartment, they would only let me clean half the bathtub before a sudden energy/demotivation would strike, and since then I have been allowed to do all of the bathtub, and all of the toilet in one cleaning session. Such is progress on this insane Fuckover front for my mind keepers.

A final round of blogging before I post this one for the week. I went to my mother's place in the suburbs and watered her vegetable garden, and attended to some plants to hold them up with a brown paper-like decomposeable twine. As always, the perp agenda is important, the plant sap passing by the brown paper twine supporting the tomatoe branch is a big deal. I used the same twine to support Ocean Spray plants that are strangely flopping about instead of keeping their vestigiate form.

The perps put me into a 1.5 hour nap on the brown colored couch after lunch, presumably to prime me for the next task, one they routinely noisestalk me over, digging plant roots up. This is an area in one corner of the backyard that is humpy, and I am removing soil to take it down to a consistent grade. And lo, if a there wasn't more plastic sheet buried. I took out some last week, then today, and also discovered some deeper buried plastic that will have to be taken out next week. Given the large number of plastics that I dig up, and their oddity, I can only assume it is the perps playing yet more plastic exposure games. And the noisestalking immediately started up once I began digging; overhead aircraft, a sudden percussive building project that appeared to come from next door even if no one was there, and a block away circular sawing project, presumably creating EMF fields at the same time. The orchestrated lawnmower noises have dropped from favor, and now more distant noises, save the diesel engine running across the street.

At least 30 vocalized piss-offs when I got back via the city bus, though a muted freakshow this time. But I did get two dudes closing in on me, each sitting two seats away, and one of them doing his plastic bag rustling for some strange reason. Then when I got off, the fucker tailed me for two blocks, another never-before. Though I did also get a tail off the bus yesterday too, so maybe the assholes are ramping up the gangstalking coverage.

The usual litany of provocations to piss me off; fumbling fingers, senseless rattling of flat plates on a flat table top, flicking water about, teleporting crumbs onto my plate, and a few more that aren't allowed to be recalled.

This morning the perps were at their coconut butter sabotage, a food item that has been sabotaged every day for the past week. The coconut oil had separated in the night again, and I stirred it up with the solids and then ladled two spoon fulls on my bread. The stiff paste of the last time isn't allowed, so I have pourable coconut butter now. And lo, if the assholes didn't up the mess ante by arranging the bread to have holes in the slice, and of course, the coconut butter dripping through to ensure extensive finger contact with the plate to remove the ponded coconut butter. Just another vignette of the ongoing and bizarre games over the simplest of things.

Enough drivel, and time to post this

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