Monday Plasma and Freaks

1930h
A stayover at the First Feral Family home last night, and I got fucked into a 11 hour sleep, waking up at 1100h, and I was duly pissed about this, as it was three hours longer than normal and totally fucks up my day. My mother was out when I got up, and I assume that particular timing was a big part of it, as she is now maing more excursions when I am at her place while working on landscape maintenance duties. It was leaf raking again, recovering from the snow storm of last weekend when I got caught for an extra day of staying there. The bamboo rake situation is under sabotage; the older one is suddenly breaking more tines, and the new one "happened" to fall apart after using it for an hour. I fixed it, applying a tight wire to the location where all the tine heads cross, and lo, if that didn't work for more than five minutes. Back to the old rake, and a better fixit job on the new one, possibly drilling the tine heads and putting a wire through all of them to secure them. Then some hose clamps maybe to cinch them all down, wide enough to exert some grip maybe. As always, the real plan is scripted to the enth detail, down to the microsecond, and could be obviated by getting a decent built leaf rake, but that hasn't come up for some reason.

I got my neighbor noise as usual when I stepped into the FFF backyard, this time leaf blower whine, and my overhead STRATCOM flights with  their characteristic noise. Though the biggest noise eruption was after I finished the leaf raking, and applied some brown paper tie material to bunch a plant into more vertical form so the surrounding chicken wire cages that I build last weekend, (inside, while the snow was flying outside) could be effective in preventing the incessant deer browsing that erupted on these four Ocean Spray plants. The plants were purchased with my support by my mother to be the replacement plants along the E. backyard border, and the deer (or a facsimile thereof) have been intensively browsing these landscape plants. So... getting the chicken wire with my mother got me lots of attention last weekend, wrapped up in plastic as it was, and it wasn't too much of a surprise for an arranged snowstorm ot be on outside while I restled with the wires and ends to convert them into 30" diameter cages to go around the four Ocean Spray plants. So it would seem that having me touch these chicken wire cages after a week of sitting on the ground, was a big deal, as that is when the noise flurry started. The seagulls, crows, vehicle speeding past the house and a few more erupted at once the instant of contact with the chicken wire. It has long been apparent to me that the perps like wire mesh of all kinds, as some kind of energetic radiator, and I suppose having said "radiator" sitting on the ground for a week, through the snow and it melt, was a big deal. Just don't ask me why, but do note that a sudden eruption of domesticity in 02-2010 brought the delivery of a wire mesh colander and a coaser meshed scoop made of stainless steel, and they both sit dangling from the kitchen cupboards, sentinels for the continued energetic studies IMHO. The first item hasn't been used to date, and I didn't have a reason to even procure it. The second item has been used a few times, but the home cooking and other domestic needs haven't materially changed at all this year, so it is mighty strange as to why I needed them at all.

Then the city bus freakshow was a minor epic, as it was very negro-centric. There is only 3% or less negroes in this city going by the last census, but lo, if there wasn't 25% on the bus when it came. This is the whitebread suburban route outbound end, before it loops back to the same inbound arterial, and lo, if two of them didn't get off at a bus stop they must of passed on the outbound journey leg. Two got off and were seated apart and made out that they didn't know each other. Then in few minutes a load of 12 year olds got on, chose to sit around me at the back, and two were negro. One was about to sit on the opposite side and kept dithering for a minute or two, and then crossed the bus to then sit in front of me on a transverse seat. So.... jibbering kids all around me for the latter five minutes of the bus trip before I got off.

I stopped at the LD store and what an intense freakshow it was, and they skunked me on getting both a USB cord and a styptic pencil in the shaving section, so off to the cashier, and finally when it was my turn, I had to back up to the hoodie dude behind me as it seemed he wanted to get close enough to see my PIN, and then a parade of freaks flushed out while transacting on the debit card reader. A tall negro dude was making his third in-store gangstalking, then the ponytailed elder man was on his second of three gangstalkings (eventually leading me out on my usual route which I abandoned), then more shiftless males in their ridiculous ball caps, and a blonde fat girl was in the mix. The assholes were all over me at that store, and it had to be one of the all time thickest gangstalkings at that fucking hole. I never would of gone in if I was left to my usual predilections, as just-off-the-bus gangstalkings are always intense in that store, especially on Mondays.

Once I got into this apartment lobby, why, another negro "popped out" from the stairwell doorway, head lowered for some reason, maybe to have is way fugly dreadlock hair swing about, yet another Unfavored feature on an Unfavored specimen. And a new-to-here negro, as I haven't seen this one, and there have been many loitering about the apartment lobby in the 3.5 years I have lived here. All part of the spooky show, but I sure wish I knew what it was all about and why the fuck am being abuses and assailed by this arranged bullshit stream which has these undeniable consisitencies.

2055h
And a sudden need to start "ripping", a term that pisses me off some, as all it is "copying and compressing" audio files, and yet somehow it begets a new name that has no relevance that I can determine. But maybe this started long ago in the audio business, though it is a strange term.

2340h
Ripping through ripping my CD's tonight; I have about one quarter of them upstairs in my apartment, and the remainder in the locker. I reckon that this too, in whatever way serves the assholes, is a big deal, as they have had me sitting around for over a year with these CD's (since I purchased a bookcase in 09-2009), and now I am allowed to copy and compress them (into FLAC format, not served by Windows or iTunes -convenient), instead of putzing around. Small things bring large contemplations as to how ripping CD's fits into the grand scheme of this long running abuse scene.

Blogging off, and hoping there isn't too many typos- sudden demotivation about editing started in 2009.