Daffodil Bulb Conveyor Work

2110h
This is the third year I have done conveyor work for sorting and grading daffodil bulbs. I get to load the hopper, which sets the feed rate for the crew through the wall in the shade all day long, picking the bad ones off and letting the good (not rotten or scarred) go through for loading to a box, weighed by a machine for the same amount in each.

Interuptions; strange interactions (jose),


Aug. 17, 2010
1935h
Another day of feeding the hopper of daffodil bulbs, and basking in the sun all the while, save my work breaks. The rest of the bulb sorting/grading crew is on the other side of a steel wall, and gets very little sun, save the first hour. I wore my tan-through shirt today, always of a big focus for the sickos, and am a little browner on my back as a result. After a week's hot spell, a second cold spell is forecast for this August. I have known similar chilly temperatures for the past two years in August and September when the daffodil bulbs work was in progress.

At work, I get flurries of activities around me at certain junctures, often after breaks when I eat something. A second day of one pass of the SeaKing military helicopter, again, having a shirt of identical grayness in my pack, kept there as a protective wrapper around my glass sealing container with a plastic lid. The stainless steel airtight container on order has taken three weeks to ship, so I need to bring the glass one, even if I didn't want to, as it is total bait for the assholes to smash it somehow. And that would be a mess, glass shards, fruit and fruit juice in my pack should the unthinkable happen. The mantra I have for eliminating the hassles, is "eliminate the excuses", that is, remove any leverage or tempting item that could be co-opted to create hassles, mess or any other kind of disaster/harassment.

Other activity flurry timings seem to be related to when I am moving stacks of plastic crates, or walking in the track of the forklift as it moves pallets for me. All the tractor driving personel have come by for an ambulatory "guest gangstalking"; a no seeming purpose passby, 8' to 12' away, only to momentarily loiter around for some senseless reason and then depart.

It was the dual do-rags on the bus today; the two rows ahead of me each had a do-rag wearing female in it. They had me sleep much of the bus ride home, as I don't recall much of it save waking up. The bus driver changed things up by having front door exits only, and stopped a block earlier for me and others to get off downtown.

On the morning oubound city bus they put this gorgeous brunette babe one seat removed on the rear bench where I was, and she was on her cell phone. (Read, EMF signals in proximity). Then a co-worker male arrives and seats himself opposite me in the rear facing seats and makes conversation with me. Then the babe moved to the forward facing seat row immediately behind him, and offset by one seat so she was fully viewable from the back where I was. She was still on her cell phone, even after protracted quiet time, when a fugly negro woman with dreadlocks boards the bus and then sits facing ahead, and to the right. From left to right I had the babe one seat row ahead, the male co-worker facing me offset from the babe, and then the dreadlock adorned negro woman, 8' further away. Anyhow, I was kept in conversation while looking at the babe and my co-worker, and then the assholes would force me to look right to see the fugly dreadlocks much more than I would by myself. Like anyone, if I see something I don't like, I avert my visual  attention and don't look there anymore. But this natural preservation instinct was overriden it seemed, as the perps forced me to look at the dreadlocks much more that I would of if left alone. Yet again, what is the reason for the perps to be totally consumed with showing me things I don't care to see, off the Unfavored list? If I don't like dreadlocks, red hair, white hair, crimped hair, curly hair, cornrow or corded hair, why is it that the assholes hound me all over town and on the bus, now for eight years, with these fugly Unfavored hair-dos, also named hurl-dos in this blog? They must be spending billions of dollars hounding my ass, and they persist with this insane and often abuse agenda.


Aug. 20, 2010

Bulb hopper loading, and two new workers who looked very much like two of the TI's I met last weekend, at least in body form. Same height, same build but different facial appearences, and they did seem to know each other. One seemed to know her way to the bottled water, but asked me for help, and then asked me how to get to the washroom which was in plain view. The management never let on that bottled water is availible for us peasants, but instead direct us to the well water which is a bit skunky. Then this pair managed to get themselves on the bulb sorting job, something they don't ordinarily do for newbies. One of them was also featuring herself, posing in doorways and excessively crossing my path. All too curious, TI's potentially cooperating will the sickos put me through living hell every fucking day. Or, is it a mind-fuck game? As always, it is at least, FUD (Fear, Uncertainty and Doubt).

Aug. 22, 2010
A day off (Sunday) from the 14 hour round trip to eat, work eat when doing the manual labor farm work.

Plenty of rage-ifcations (over 40 so far) this morning, a get-up time of 0730h, respectable and not too late. They have increased the crumb, lint and dog hair teleported inundations, especially on just-cleaned surfaces. The cleaning urge struck as it usually does, in parallel with the laundry on (separate room, 30' away). They pulled the swifter pad from my hand at least 3x, dumped quarters that magically arrived outside the paper wrapped roll (no spillage or falling from the roll), jabbed me in the finger tips at least 4x, poked me in the nipples at least 10x (a torture I have come to not notice much as it happens so often), invoked head pain pulses of short duration (usually while screaming at the assholes over a prior disruptive incursion), flicked water sideways by some 18" and a many others which I am not allowed to recall. And the assholes seem to be pissing with my recall more, making me "forget" to dust all the surfaces of the chair rungs until I thought I was done, when I had fully intended to get to that particular rung, and like perceptual "forgets" and reversals that never happened before.

When the fuckery gets intensified it is often coincident with new events or radical re-arrangements of my routines. I started a new jar of coconut butter this morning, replacing the peanut butter I usually purchase, and lo, if the assholes didn't make it goopy and unspreadable. So now, it gets a place in the fridge, when it was never refrigerated before, as it normally a stiff paste at room temperature. And lo, if that isn't kept the same location in the fridge where the peanut butter is usually kept. The Feb. to Mar. use of coconut butter was blogged, but it was stored on the shelf as it was plain that after one day's refrigeration it was too hard to spread. Now, we shall see what happens.

(And to divulge more of the peanut/coconut butter trivia, they had a full unopened jar of peanut butter on the cupboard shelf next to the coconut butter that was in use). I have mentioned the perps consumption with with various plant oils before if my recall hasn't been fucked with, and it seems that they are still on this theme. Which has been the case from the get-go, though I wasn't fully aware of it until staged shortages of my usual olive oil was plain, not to mention (in 2004) ripping a just-purchased grocery bag containing only  olive oil from my hand and smashing it on the asphalt surface I was walking on.

And I notice they denatured the taste of the coconut butter; I was allowed to "find" the Artisana brand that was so delectably sweet last time, and lo, the sweetness is now gone. Such taste "numbing" is nothing new I have come to find, and it seems they like to make sure that they know it is happening. They could of denatured the flavor from the first time I tasted it, but no, they allowed me to taste it in full (which I suspect is still muted from what most normal folk would find), and now make sure I know it isn't as sweet.

But, they did allow me a full night's sleep last night, with no recalled ructions or disruptive (and imposed) dreams. Meat aerial games were in place prior to awakening, and this is the pattern nearly every night.

2105h
An afternoon at the First Feral Family home, digging up weeds, loping low overhanging branches, raking up pine cones and digging buried plastic out from the ground. Each activity begat fresh rounds of noisestalking, and the odd plasmic flash as if it came off my glasses. The aircraft noise, (SAC and private single engine aircraft) was highly evident, as were the hot rods of the nearby street, and other loud muffler acts (motorcycles, ill-maintained passenger vehicle mufflers). Oddly, not much neighbor noise like lawnmowers, chainsaws and the like; keeping their noise at bay for a rare change. I hadn't done any gardening work for two weeks, and sometimes they come on real hard after a hiatus. But they did ramp up the head pains, these seeming beams of point source pain, often deep in my temple region where the amygdala is.

My mother retrieved my father from the old folks home for a visitation, they timing their arrival and greeting just five minutes into digging up the plastic 6" below the surface, the second set of it, as I had removed a sheet above it two weeks ago. Then they were in the house after that, presumably for detecting plastic-me interactions from a distance. This digging exposed the roots of the adjacent cedar hedge and the pine trees, and for the perps, it is just noisestalk heaven when I mess with plant roots. And they even added more plastic after the fact, a red bread tag, a styrene plastic, arrived on the dug area by dint of some fuckery. The perps have me loathing the sight of bread (packaging) tags, but there is no rational reason for this, as I don't particularly care about such trivia.