Saturday, April 30, 2011

Rotary Tools

And what is this planted obsession over rotary tools of late, e.g. Dremel and the like? I have never had one, and somehow remained clueless about their utility for all my four tool purchasing decades, having had quite a few larger power tools, e.g. grinders, power plane, reciprocating saw, sanders, routers and the like. Then around 2002 when the harssment was on they had me fixated over getting a roto-zip like tool, though I had no house to use it on. Then recently, the "need" has been planted to get a grinder for cut-off purposes to get these flanged backets removed from the First Feral Family house backyard patio. These brackets have been there for over 25 years, courtesy of my father's plans at one time, and then only one of the four were removed. In-town brother was to save the day, and had a grinder, and I got the cut-off blade, only to find his grinder was a non-standard 10mm arbor and there were no arbor nut attachments to fit. That was an exercise in taking this 20 year old grinder in its box and its styrofoam (read, perp plastics obsession) insert around town to find that out, including 30 min. at the Makita dealer, to find no part in their catalog. But he found another grinder yesterday, a more recent model, and so this infernal episode may proceed after all.

But getting back to the orchestrated issue; why are the perps so freaking obsessed over rotary tools, and even getting perverse to the point of suggesting that my coarse cheese grater, which came too dull from the store as new, (read arranged so chunks of cheese would fall off), could be improved by taking a rotary hand tool with a diamond sharpening bit to it and sharpening all 54 cutting edges. Like WTF; I never would of thought of this tool to use as it has never been in my (controlled) mind share as a possibility, never having seen anyone use one. Broke as I am, this ridiculous notion keeps getting replayed each time I pick up the cheese grater and "comes up" (read, planted ideation) at least 20x/day. No question that the perps like having rotating machinery around me, e.g. vehicles, but it is most absurd to hound me over something I don't really need, and don't want to engage in for hobby purposes, as it opens the door to all manner of things going wrong. And believe me, if I have little to none knowledge about the conventional physical behavior of a tool, especially a powered one, the perps are going to turn it into an episode of Sabotage Hell.

Bad enough even making coffee the same way for eight years, using a French press Bodum; the assholes made the spoon tip while loaded with coffee, and dumped coffee grounds on the stovetop. A round of screaming at the assholes ensued, as this has to be at least 50x in the past eight years that they force this coffee mess on me. The ground coffee is sometimes accompanied by a glow of plasma over top of it, inside the bag, and presumably to provide some differential in its apparent color, and whatever EMF signature it may also confer. And I believe I have mentioned the Coffee Corps, the legions of coffee bearing Fuckwits that erupt in my proximity.

Yesterday's city bus freakshow with the negro and two E. Indians was one, but last week they put on a negro boarding the bus with a brown grocery bag supported by one arm and a coffee cup in another. A "triple brown" situation as I have come to call the Fuckwits and their props. On the face of it, the set up was ridiculous; the coffee shop was a block further than the purported supermarket, so who would do grocery shopping with coffee in hand, and then still not having drunk it up, wait for the bus and still have it? Or else, walk a block with grocery bag and then walk back when the bus was going by the coffee shop? (The coffee was from a well known outlet here, abbreviated TH to save spurious web search finds). And where does one get a plain brown grocery bag nowadays, as they are all plastic?

The "triple brown" (skin, grocery bag and coffee in hand) exercise on the city bus, (aka mobile gangstalking freakshow), tells me that the perps are upping the complexity of their games. Putting more negroes on, and now with brown objects in hand or putting them in front of themselves. The slight increase in disgusting brown colored vehicles also suggests the same, putting them in the midst of a posse of silver-grey and greyscale colored vehicles, sometimes even putting a red one in the mix too. We have a long way (years) to go before they figure it all out, their color juxtaposition games.

The infernal loud motorcycle games are continuing today, as they ran them for most of the evening  yesterday, and then put on a run of them when they kept me awake in bed for at least an hour. As mentioned, there are no biker bars for miles, so why is this noise so pervasive around me? I have yet to get any answer why motorcycles are so prevalant in this harassment/abuse scene, as they also use them for visual props, without noise.

And it is a much disrupted day; turning the alarm off at 0800h, and then being awakened at 0910h with a phone call (read, EMF to right temple) from in-town brother, who wanted me to go online to look something up. I said I would have breakfast first, and suggested that since his phone was on the fritz, that he get a Blackberry. But as he is technology adverse, likely a perp managed situation, these kind of suggestions don't go down well. Even his ex-girlfriend, no technology wiz, lamented his adversity to learning Windows basics.

Then, not having shaved yesterday due to late night/early morning viewing of the Royal Wedding live, the perps made sure there was extra noise while doing so. The faux neighbor had his second shower to kept the water running noise going, and the razor made extra noise cutting hairs, and was even pulling at first, a new "feature" of new razor inserts that magically dissapates within a few minutes of use.

An eruption of stereo music/noise coming through my earmuffs. The much harassed shaving session this morning came with stereo music/noise too, a noise the perps seem to use sparingly compared to motorcycle noise, heavy duty vehicle noise and the like. I note that the perps like to plant harbinger stunts and props, something that suggests, or is illustrative of what is to come. For example, this stereo noise is likely to erupt while having tea and chocolate in the next 30 minutes. Getting noisestalked while brown food is in my mouth is getting to be very frquent of late, and they seem to want to use this noise to calibrate me for color interactions at other times, esepcially while looking at a LCD display. All those large displays at the Royal Wedding, in the church and in the parks, it does make me wonder if the aren't sending some kind of nasty signals through them to also calibrate me at the same time. Interesting how display devices are at every turn, and how often they arrange Fuckwits to be looking at their phone LCDs in my proximity. Or else, netbooks.

An accompaniment with my tea and chocolate earlier was stereo music noise, culminating when I did the dishes afterward, and somehow managing to stay at the same volume level whether the faucet was running water or not. And a few motorcycles in there too for the completion of the noise invasion. But now it is thumping noises that accompany web page changes, keystrokes, and selections with the mouse, and all have an ability to get through the earmuffs. First thumping noise from the L side, hallway, and then progressing exclusively to the R side, the kitchen location. Plus, the dude talk erupted too, another noise that erupted in the bathroom this morning. The perps have decided to accompany me while doing job searching, and bookmarking promising ones. Thiough so far, they haven't let me apply to them, holding off for tonight or next week in this perverse on-off regulated effort they contain me to.

A third resume rewrite with plenty of accompanying noise, including the earmuff and their squeaking act. As mentioned in postings of the last week, the perps seem to be putting particular focus on resume writing, and the employment counsellors of the prior three years somehow "forgetting" to mention that the functional resume style is better suited to a disrupted work history. Not that will change anything, as this entire employment involvement is so highly orchestrated and set up in advance. They had me picking red fruit for the past two years, strawberries and raspberries so I expect they will be assigning me this job again, as it seems they are still working on their red color games. None of the ideations they have inundated me with, viticulture (grape crop management) and oil and gas drilling will come to pass. They cannot have me working long term it seems, and want to contain me to seasonal work. And the sounds of motorcycles comes on as I finish this up before making dinner.

Another evening tea-time, and the same tea and chocolate, the third of the latter as part of the perps' "browning around" fuckery they put me through. And lo, if there wasn't the identical throbby trail bike motorcycle noise while eating chocolate with my tea as during tea-time this afternoon. In all of the noisetalking and utter silliness of these arranged coincidences, this one takes the cake. How could that possibly happen, the identical noise when at the same activity some five hours apart? And no, it is not from a nearby resident (usual caveat applies), but arranged to sound like the vehicle was passing by the neighborhood. I'm calling this one an epic orchestration event, EOE, as in never-before nonsense.

A Chicken Run earlier in the morning, and I had my posse around me before I got into the store, who then dallied behind only to be seen in the store a few minutes later. I had a three person cluster fuck about to come toward me at the hot cooked chicken counter, effectively blocking my egress to the chocolate, and backed out to the crackers section all to be exposed to this disgusting obese male some 300+ lb in a vile pale yellow shirt, 20'. I scoot to go, and lo, if some 15' in  the opposite direction they didn't put a same vile yellow shirted normal weight person in the checkout line. I ignored that for the 6' I had to walk toward it and took another checkout, one likely "reserved" for me as no one was there. I got two cashiers, the large on training the first one, and the former did the prerequisite bag flicking and then retired to the adjacent recycling bins to attend to more plastic. And have I mentioned how often the perps arrange plastic around me, and that it is arranged to be moved and shifted? Some three weeks ago they had the checkout at a certain store to have the checkout to be ringed with a display of plastic garbage bags (in small boxes) some 8' long, 6' high and 2' deep. My mother asked me if we needed plastic bags, and I confirmed that we needed some for the garden weed refuse, and so she bought a box to take back. More excitement for the perps over plastic bags. And just to think that 8 months of working 6x/week as a cleaner in 2008-09 and attending to at least 8 new plastic bags per two hour shift wasn't enough. Just plain insane, doing remote energetic studies when it could of taken less than 6 months of cooperation as an ballpark estimate. And now, the sirens are coming on at this juncture for whatever important event is cooking at MCCentral.

Another side story to the Chicken Run, those visitations to the local supermarket to purchase hot cooked chicken, and the extra attention I get from gangstalkers and the rest of the freakshow. The perps have ensured that the chicken is heavily coated in paprika, an orange colored spice, and often situate gangstalkers wearing the same orange color on my short beat back to my apartment. Well, today, it was red hair (Unfavored) instead, (orange colored of course), of this long haired male in camoflage some 50' away on the street. Big joke that.

So enough of the banter about the goings on of the Psychopathic Confederacy, not your average PC consideration, and to blog off for tonight. And likely too, I won't be blogging tomorrow, as it is going to be an early departure to the First Feral Family house to continue my weeding and soil sifting, another perp obsession- soil and metal contact.

Another round of sirens, the third in the last hour. No emergecy vehicles though. Here is a site that deals with gangstalking, Stalking Victims Network Incorporated. They put both individual and organized stalking into the same category, artfully and legitmately, dealing with all of it in one site. A leap forward for us TI's who somehow put ourselves in the Freak corner when in fact we are besieged with freaks that are so unlike us.

Friday, April 29, 2011


And what is with these visual flashbacks I keep getting, usually after a doing gardening/weeding job? I get reddish or greenish flashback images of the weeds I took out, couch grass, perriwinkle and a few others. I never had anything of this kind before, no matter if I spent all day weeding, and in the past year this bullshit has erupted after the fact, as if to continue the imagery into another task/event.

And so it was, doing some three hours weeding at the nonstop landscape disaster that is the First Feral Family home, and many more landscaping disasters to deal with. And I had my usual procession of noise to accompany me; STRATCOM B-52's, then DeHavilland Turbo Beavers, then some private aircraft and then the Sea King helicopters, at least four passes of the latter. And too, the neighbors know when to start up their lawnmowers, seeming the same kind as they all make the same noise, just from different distances and directions. It was a three-some today, three harmonically coordinated lawnmowers, with one starting, a second one 20 minutes later, and then the first one cutting out, at least five interuptions while the second one continued, and then the third one from the E, where the first two were from the NW and W. And a procession of hot rods and high performance (read, high noise) vehicles were also arranged as part of the noise parade while digging weeds out, why is San Juan Ave., whitebread suburbia, an attraction for serial performance vehicles (again, meaning high noise) all afternoon on any given weekdays when the dudes should be earning money to pay for these high-noise vehicles? All part of the noise show, and it is consistent as it is predictable.

Then the neighbor comes out and runs his Volkswagen van for ten minutes, apparently to check his brake lights for crissakes. It is a most curious color combination that I cannot imagine anyone choosing in their right mind; lime green with light brown tan panels painted on the sides on the bigger expanses of sheet metal. No doubt, as it was 40' away as I worked along the lot line, it has significant perp use as these vans are extensively used in vehicular gangstalking, as the engine is in the rear, behind the rear wheels, a rather unique configuration that VW Bettles and Porche 911 designs share.

And is it too much of a coincidence that the perps had me with two VW camper vans way back when, Westphalias as they are called here. Nice vans, but hopelessly underpowered, and it was only the then wife's bizarre sentiments that kept them as long as they lasted, some four years. I came to loathe VW and their vehicles then, which in the latter case might be an outdated view as their technology has changed so radically now.

Major motorcycle noise tonight, and then when the in-town brother phoned (read, EMF at one's head) they put on another very loud motorcycle noise, having me block my ears with my fingers while holding the dangling phone as my brother was speaking at that moment. No doubt some of the motorcycle noise got through to the earpiece and he heard, but that is the whole idea; compare his reactions to motorcycle noise to mine with the active headset in close proximity. It seems that motorcycles also have subconscious traumatization associations for me, as I get no end of parked motorcycles arranged as props for me to see, not hear. And note, that I am six storeys up, and there is no way motorcycles should be as loud as they are on the street.

It was watch the Royal Wedding night at the First Feral Family house; coverage began at 2200h and the ceremony started at 0300h and I didn't make it into bed until 0430h. I awoke at 1100h and was reasonably OK with the sleep deficit, as the perps seem to manage me to be perfectly OK with minimal sleep sometimes. Or else, for no seeming reason, they can nail me for 11 hours of sleep other times, again, with no dleep deficit cover story.

Job looking online; funny how some of the topical companies, featured in the news today, end up seeming to want to hire. What I am suggesting is that the online jobs I get to see are mostly about appealing to what I have recently read, interests (avocational or vocational), locations I have known or even lived in, and any other personal association, even if long ago. I am begining to suspect the entire exercise is spoofed for each time I look at it. And the oil & gas drilling laborer job "interest" that I was controlled to look into has returned when I expected it to wane. Last week, I applied online after answering an online questionaire and once approved, filled out the minimal detail required in expression of interest. In other words, my resume, and for all it might contain that could be construed as limiting, was not part of the equation as to whether I was considered or not. And lo, no phone call, no stated interest, and finally I thought that this planted obsession was over. But no, they have me looking again, and no doubt this is yet another exercise to engage in futility, something that seems to be a huge perp research theme.

And again, what is with the 40+ crowds on the bus heading into downtown from suburbia at 1637h, the #28 bus? Just another excuse for a mobile gangstalking freakshow, aka, city bus transportation. And they had the negro (Unfavored, see posting to right) out again, posted at the rear exit door so everyone had to go past him in his strange semi-dreadlocak hair. And my last sighting of him was arranged for him to have the underside of his tongue revealed to me while he was looking down. This, as he was coming to the rear bench seat, getting out of the way of the rear door immediately before I got up to exit at my bus stop. He and his E. Indian pal in mirrored shades and a black wool toque get my award as the "least likely to be seen on public transportation" award for today. And as it "happened", the E. Indian sitting next to me had a 2 liter container of milk he "happened" to have purchased and was taking home. And milk seems to be a constant perp prop wherever I go, and I suppose the milk jug and the brown cookies that were in front of me when staying up for the Royal Wedding last night just might of been the props for the same reason; brown and white milk together and see if whatever energetic signature they have in my proximity and then arrange brown skinned people with milk in hand the next day. Fucking hilarious if it wasn' so insane and the culmination of nine years' of abuse. There is nothing genuinely humorous as a TI, as one is groomed on loathing at every turn.

That should be it for today, and hopefully getting some regular sleep tonight.

Wednesday, April 27, 2011

Resume Write Up Obstruction

What is it about resumes that the perps are so excited about? Constant noise interuptions as I mention the word and deal with the protracted obstruction over gettin on with resume rewrites.Two employment counsellors of the last three years somehow "failed" to tell me about the functional resume design that is better for those with imposed working gaps. This on/off resume write up and job search game is getting very tired.

Other events of the day were to see my employment counsellor in the morning, and head to the First Feral Family house to do landscape maintenance to earn chump change and attempt to stay out of hoc, another place the perps like to keep me.

I got to the city bus stop and now my freakshow is regularly inhabiting the bus stop and not just onboard. First, they had a commercial 5 tonne delivery truck of a food distributor illegally parked in the bus stop zone and across an adjacent driveway. One dude was standing in front of the tailgate on the road, looking like he was part of the crew. Another was attending to the rear door, and I thought they were together. Another look a minute later and the in-street stand-there dude is now a potential bus passenger, now under the bus shelter on the sidewalk. Why he had to stand into the traffic lane behind the delivery truck is most strange, as no bus was coming anyways. I often get gangstalkers who insist on standing on the asphalt road surface near me standing on the concrete sidewalk, about to cross at the same crosswalk.

Said dude then follows me on the bus and sits across from me with his black shopping bag. Only later did I see that he had a blue ceramic pot inside of it, stretching the bag fabric. Only later did the perps let me in on the similar fact that they fire blue plasma beams at me from dark locations, and that this combination of a black bag and a variable blue ceramic bowl was to emulate the same circumstances.

Other later city bus freakshow was to populate the bus with some 24 gangstalkers, no matter it being quite odd that there be so many on the bus at 1730h (downtown bound on a Tuesday evening) with a very important Stanley Cup hockey game on this evening, Vancouver Canucks and the Chicago Black Hawks.

Then, with an evening to get on with resume writing, the assholes demotivate me to make the exercise pointless. Yet more of the protracted battle to get a resume rewrite done

About 15 screaming rage shows so far this morning, especially at breakfast when the opening of a new package of ground coffee (read, brown color prop of extensive gangstalking use), always an big harassment event. And too, plenty of heavy vehicle noise, though no actual vehicles seen, the perps backing off of the backup beeper noise that has been incessant for the last two mornings. Provocations to rile me up were finger tip jabbing from unseen force fields, pulling items from my grasp, crumb teleportations and extra-conventional gravitic resistance from being removed from the cereal bowl under running water. The ground flax seed has been particularly problematic as an excuse to have the ground flakes stay in the bowl, fomented by the fact thata the usual hemp seed ran out, was removed from the supermarket shelf in its entirety, and they wouldn't let me go to get it last night when walking past.

And today, I am supposed to get a functional resume written, bound to be another grevious thought-blocked vexacious exercise, having started this bullshit last night. No doubt it will be an all day exercise to then have sudden flashes of "insight" in the last hour before this application is due at 1600h.

I was finally allowed to get on with the dusting, being a sore point for the last week, as I cannot stand the sight of it. Then a sudden need to deal with the filing of papers that have accumulated since January, another pain as the assholes had me in the habit of filing them every day. Then a sudden lapse of good habits, which is the the signature of perp mind-fuck interference. There isn't anything or any activity they haven't obstructed and protracted, sometimes for months, even years in some cases. One isn't allowed to have functional competance for long, as it gets duly dithered in this long running, nine years now, life and mind fuck. Though from what I see in the news, and now knowing nothing is a coincidence any more, it seems others who are unaware of the physical world manipulations and remotely applied mind invasive technologies pay a steeper price. Though, they might be considered to be one of the lucky ones from my discouraged perspective.

A tapping attack from overhead, that somehow gets through my earmuffs. Then when taken off, a whistling noise erupts from the hallway. The whistling noise being something the assholes suddenly began with in 2002 when this insane harssment begain. Also, so in-apartment light flashes today, seeming to compliment noises arranged at the exact same instant.

Another 10 rantings or screaming at the assholes while making the standard lunch/dinner dish from scratch. Provocations like having food items defy gravity and hang on the upside down spoon are a sure method to crank me up, as well as crumbs that erupt from nowhere, as is planting water in the respective tubs of tapenade and guacamole. In the case of the latter they screwed me into getting the version with unlabelled red pimentos in it, another loathing, these speckled inclusions of red color. The perps have been heavy on the avocado and lime green gangstalkers, and guacamole fits their color  games pattern, but why the infernal red pimentos. And if allowed access to my own recall, I would of remembered that this was the game last year when I learned the same lesson. But as usual, I am not allowed to recall what I would of normally remembered, and got screwed into getting something I had no intention of getting.

The dim-down games continue; it was sunny first thing, and now dark enough to be when raining. They only let me open my curtains at 1205h, so it seems they need to piss with the ambient lighting conditions.

A screaming rage show over lines showing up in my resume that cannot be deleted. Open Source software means open rape, anything and everything.

I finally finished the resume before the 1600h deadline, by six minutes. It was a frantic, as it seemed like it wouldn't get done, and I was sabotaged the entire time, good for at least 30 screaming rage-ifications to the provocations; typo sabotage, inserted lines that I couldn't remove, bullet points that differed slightly in size over the same paragraph and no amount of re-bulleting and re-assigning format would work. I didn't need the tight deadline, and I got fucked out of getting on with the resume this morning. It simply defies my mind to understand what sick assholes would utilize remote influencing technologies for nine years to the same victim in order to enrage the individual at every turn.

A 30+ screaming rage-ification show when making and eating dinner tonight. Eating much the same food for nine years isn't enough, so they provoke me with faked touches, a flat bottomed plate rattling and vibrating at the slightest touch on a flat table, rattling the bottles around each time I opened the fridge, pulling items from my grasp and a few more. The assholes backed off on the extra-conventional kinetic salad games tonight, another one of their specialties.

Many text shrinking games going on this PC tonight; I leave a browser tab, and then come back to find they shrank the text (font size) some. This relatively benign nonsense has been going on for years, but has increased of late to be all evening. Even this Blogspot page got text reduced, along with slimming down the panel size into which I type.

Some reading from sites picked up from, said to be a search engine that digs into the hidden web. And that is said to be 500x bigger than the known web. All too conspiratorial, but I did find something interesting when searching for "MKUltra". Try your own favorite search terms and see how it compares to Google. It was that first introduced me to this, a result of tonight's browsing (hidden sites here). And it also got me a full body zapping with a simultaneous noise at one point, and have I said how much I like getting zapped? Enough to see that any involved perp rues the day they came on this project of hounding my ass for nine years and counting.

Enough of today's abuses, and some outside time tomorrow. Don't know if that is good or bad, but it seems they like to alternate these.

Monday, April 25, 2011

Rare Monday Morning at Abuse Central

I usually stay at the First Feral Family house on Sunday evenings and do garden work or driving for my perp abetting mother in the morning, returning Monday afternoon or evening. But as the weather was closing in, meaning rain for this Monday morning, I left Sunday evening, getting a ride with my in-town brother who was over for Easter dinner, minimally celebrated. More like it was an enlarged First Feral Family gangstalk, going the artifices he contrived to have both his cell phone and the wireless phone in front of him on his wood TV-table. Both are EMF devices, and his cell phone was on the fritz, beeping anytime it felt like it, all by itself.

But what is with his sudden escalation of waving his hands around while talking, in front of his face mostly. My perp-abetting mother suddenly adopted this ridiculous habit when the harassment started in 2002, but my in-town brother hasn't been so consistent. I even asked him aloud why he was waving his hands around all the time, but that didn't stop him.

Othe bullshit on the way back was to drop off his engine oil from his vehicle, having changed the oil earlier in the day. Regular readers will know of the perp's obsession over petroleum products, and that they seem to involve this extensively in their stunts and set ups, e.g. heating oil tankers, gasoline tankers delivering on a Sunday evening for crissakes.

Today is Easter Monday, a half-assed holiday here; government workers are off, no one else it seems. The perps are heavy on outside noise all the same; heavy duty vehicles, bus noise and beepings. The rain didn't stop them either.

Then they dug a 1/8" hole in me while doing the full frontal shave this morning, having skipped this perp inspired regimen while at the First Feral Family house yesterday. That might be why they are extra abusive today, cranking me up with jabbings from nowhere, including one on my dick; no towel or other possible casual object in hand, just a gratuitous whack from the assholes. One never knows when they will stoop this low, but they will. Said hole in my skin was deeper than usual and bled a whole lot more, and it was the most unlike a razor cut of all the hundreds of times they have cut me. None look like a razor cut for that matter. But only one lesion inflicted, not ten or more like they sometimes do.

And while doing the news troll for the first time in three days, they went beserk with incessant clunking and thumping heard through my earmuffs while reading a forest industry blog. That was my former industry that I worked in for 20 years, and the perps seem to be fishing for something when it comes to that topic. I had my earmuffs on, but that doesn' matter if they want to get a specific noise through with the timing arranged to what I am seeing or reading online.

A lunch made from scratch, and it is always an event of extra adversity, arranged by the perps/ Crumbs dropping in from nowhere, water slopped onto the countertop by some mysterious means, faked touches, sending me to the wrong cupboard etc., all to crank me up to a rage-ification level. Invariably a loud noise from outside is timed while screaming at the assholes.

And for the past two days while at the First Feral Family house, eating far too many cookies and cakes, I got the usual proliferation of noise from the faux neighbors. It seems that there are no real people living in most of the houses around the FFF house, much like this apartment and all the ones beforehand. The most ridiculous moment wasn't the six or more STRATCOM bombers overhead over the day while outside, but an Dehavilland Turbo Beaver aircraft, no more than 150' above, that was timed to fly past exactly when I picked up the box containing the plastic bags that I had used to put weeds in after sifting the soil from them for three prior hours. These are the same aircraft that do the commute runs from harbor to harbor, Victoria and Vancouver, and to have it so low on a Sunday was quite exceptional. They have been frequently arranged overhead while I am working in the bulb picking fields from the last three years of farm work, seemingly at their assigned altitude. But yesterday's low flypast was the first one. They once arranged a similar float plane to buzz me once when hiking near a ridge line. The aircraft lined me up from over a half mile away and cleared the ridge top by some 20', it was that close. This in a park and well away from the standard flight paths. Just another means it seems in extending the role of aircraft, for whatever service they provide for the perps' games.

Regular readers will know that outdoor landscaping work at the FFF house has been accompanied first by the STRATCOM bombers (or, perhaps, noise only emulations), then overflights by scheduled aircraft (such as the one that came in low yesterday), then the faux neighbors and their lawnmowers, chain saws, leaf blowers and other two cycle gasoline powered engine noise. This progressive noise pattern of fuel burning engines occurs each time I am outside doing the yard and garden maintenance work, repeating after lunch, just as it does when start in the morning. But I suppose they needed an aircraft to come in close to augment this continuum of noise and fuel burning, from terra firma (lawnmowers etc.) to way up where STRATCOM B-52 bombers fly, what, 50,000' (guessing).

An interesting news piece I came across, a submarine sailor going amok and shooting two officers on board a submarine that was in port for public visitation purposes. I didn't think too much of it until I read the physical newspaper article that visiting dignitaries were on board (inside) and the ruckus happened there, with a group of schoolchildren waiting outside, who were never threatened or even aware of what transpired. Well.........  I do get plenty of children gangstalkers with their parents carrying or pushing them along, and even school groups that "happen" to be downtown for whatever reason. And so it seems to me, the children are used as biosensors for psychic fields, and in the case of this tragic mayhem aboard a submarine with the children outside, might the perps be doing their etheric/psychic energy detection research with these children, while a deadly bloodletting went on inside? Could be, as it seems the perps were (two months ago) working on having the Fugliest Negro leaning against a wall while I was on the other side going down steel stairs. Though we are talking another order of magnitude, with a submarine hull some inches thick of steel. Lest one think I am extrapolating too far, many other TI's note some "coincidence management" around tragic public massacres, such as at teaching institutions, and suspect the deemed assailant might have been under the control of remote influencing technology. Funny how this online article dropped the mention of the children outside, and that they were not witness to the event.

Tea and chocolate are done; at five times repeating motorcycle noise was good for swearing at them once. Then a 1" red spot flash was good for another vocalized complaint, and while in mid-rant they put a 5"x1/2" yellow flash immediately in front of my face. The sickos are decidedly more disruptive today. Same for the dementia act father yesterday, he was decidedly more disruptive and invasive, and putting on the dementia bullshit way too thick. He wasn't dulled down like he has been so often.

Three more motorcycle noise events in quick succession that somehow get through my earmuffs, when I didn't have them on at above mentioned tea-time. Somehow, the perps like to deliver the same specific noise at the same volume level, seated at the table, and then at my desk, 180 degrees different orientation. No respite today, never mind how improbable it is to have the same motorcycle repeating so often.

And maybe this is why TI's get bright lights shone at them; headlights, night lights on in the day time and even the odd flash from nowhere. This article indicates that there is a magnetic moment created when light passes through a non-conductor (dielectric). And given that I am kept in a densified magnetic field, measured at 1600 Gauss two years ago, it would make sense that the perps are looking to detect the result of the magnetic interference, and in doing so, detect the magnetic, (or, electromagnefic, or energetic) signature they seem to know about in advance, probably from static testing of cooperative subjects. Long known to the perps of course, but we in surface-world were allowed to catch up on this one. Lucky us.

I see the font size games are continuing; each time I come back to this and write an entry (above), the font size gets a little smaller. Same old same old, and nine years of it now.

Here is a TI resource I did not know about until today, recieving an email out of the blue. Keep the Ethical Light Burning, or KELB, and they seem dedicated to what the real issue is, nonconsensual human experimentation. Full stop. It is what all this abuse is about, and is a continuation of past abuses (many of the same subjects, like me) that began in the 1950's under the MKUltra banner, though I suspect there was more, e.g., the radiological testing of US Forces personnel.

No mojo tonight, not even to get going on the job searching, a chronic situation as I slip into my line of credit this week, the first time in over a year. Maybe the gardening work can bail me out for $200 this month when it wraps up.

And nothing today about my oil drilling job application three days ago, the seeming culmination of three years of planted ideations. Hopefully this bullshit is now run its course and is over for good. And a decided motivational suck-down on getting a vineyard job in the Okanagan, another planted and impractical ideation that was planted at least two years ago, and seemed to reach a fever pitch about two months ago. I applied to two places and haven't heard from either, as the accomodation arrangements must work out as well. Hopefully this too will pass and the perps' grand plans for my late-spring job early summer job scene will settle down to what I was expecting it to be, the same as the last two years. That is, pick strawberries and then as the season winds down, pick raspberries. And when the latter is done, then I go pick daffodil bulbs from the ground after the tractor has lifted them. That takes me to September and so another year of "red testing" (strawberries and raspberries only) ends. And I see my perp abetting mother is already purchasing California strawberries, having served them last night for dessert. A harbinger of the daffodil picking job I did two months ago, when she was purchasing imported ones before the local picking season started? (Recall that I picked daffodil flowers for four weeks in Febuary and March 2011). Very likely, and perhaps this utter job ideation nonsense that has been planted in mind will come to pass for freaking good.

On that note, I will conclude this posting and dullified day, getting to do laundry this morning, so not at total shut-in.

Friday, April 22, 2011

Convergence; the TI Version

Convergence is a term that was sometimes used like "information highway", meaning a general convergence of entertainment and communications devices into one device that does all of them, such as a computer, or iPhone. Though, in the case of TI's it is quite a different experience with gangstalkers coming at one from different directions and converging upon one. They might keep their social distance, or, one Fuckwit wil get too close. I had at least three physical gangstalker convergences upon me at the short visit to the local supermarket. And also, they "dress it up" some  by having some of the converging gangstalkers to be women, certainly less threatening. But I just cannot stand it, (read, getting mindfucked into this "reaction"), having all these Fuckwits clustered around me. Bad enough that I am singled out to be fucked with for nine years, but worse when they get in close and limit my options as to how to get out of the imposed predicament.

It was only a five minute exercise on a national holiday, Good Friday, and yet somehow this surfeit of Fuckwits is arranged for this short duration at the local supermarket. I had been looking and applying for jobs online just beforehand, and additionaly I was made to pee before leaving my apartment. They even put on the two-tone brown vehicle parked outside, an again, a two tone brown dressed woman ahead of me on the sidewalk passing the MIB and his hobbling act. Inside the supermarket had the doorway ditherers/blockers, skinhead males, the ever present stalking/stocking staff and their brown boxes, the dithering granny taking the entire aisle width with her motorized wheelchair, a negro and a few others from the Unfavored besides the convergence assholes.

And I suppose that it looks to be a kept day, where I am not headed out for anything, defering my First Feral Family yard maintainance duties for one more day of sunshine. Other exciting perp events are that I am wearing the olive drab colored shirt for the first time in three months, being confined to black and navy blue shirts. Another item the perps are testing me on is to not comb or brush my hair in the morning after my shower, and leaving it to air dry if reasonably formed. This has "happened" at least twice per week for the last three weeks, so it is a very exciting test for them for whatever reason. Another change to excite the perps was to be sleeping on fresh laundered bedsheets last night, always something to get a rise out of my insane keepers. And too, a nut shave last night, another reason for next day beserk perp behavior. The things they find exciting are just too absurd for words.

The outside noise has dropped some in the guise of being a statutory holiday. But what is with the motorcycle noise increase? They like to put the noise through my earmuffs, and have me take them off and plug my ears over this infernal noise. The perps' preoccupation with motorcycles also involves setting them up for me to see, and with no noise component. I haven't found any reference from the MKULTRA survivors as to what their abusers were doing with motorcycles at the time. If there are any reading this blog I would like to know.

References to skinheads, tattoos, aliens, ecclesiastic dress, clinical personnel, military garb, black vehicles and others have been found in other TI's stories in understanding why the perps are hounding me with these themes in mind. So far, nothing on motorcycles.

A forced nap at 1700h, that didn't really offer much sleep, just a run of some 15 loud mufflered vehicle over the 45 min. of napping, and having me plug my ears, more on the L side than the R side for some reason. As per past late afternoon nap attacks, I am chilled enough to put on a olive drab colored sweater. Then dinner time, and making salad for the first time in two weeks, always a contentious food item. And in keeping with having new things together, it was a new bag of salad mix and a new bottle of vinagrette. There seems to be a battle going on with my choice of vinagrette, and they even soured the last bottle to make it unpleasant and to arrange this confluence of two new items in my salad making.

Then comes the grievous battle of eating salad, with it flipping off the fork, unbidden by my hand, even if the oil and vinagrette was evenly distributed. I don't know what the perps' problem is with me eating salad, but they go insane about it, and rage-ified me at least twice with their salad leaf hopping, and they also cause a din to erupt in my ears while screaming at the assholes. Apparently it is no longer enough to have food in my mouth while vocalizing my objections to their extra-conventional gravitic fuckery over salad eating.

And here is an excerpt from Dr. John C. Lilly's work, the Dyadic Cyclone, and his definition of the Earth Coincidence Control Office, aka E.C.C.O.

    "In ones life there can be peculiarly appropriate chains of related events that lead to consequences that are strongly desired. After such experiences, one wonders how such a series of events developed; sometimes there is a strong feeling that some intelligence (greater than ours) directed the course along certain lines which It/He/She was/is programming. Several years ago, I enunsiated a format for such concatenations of events, somewhat.

    "There exists a Cosmic Control Center (C.C.C.) with a Galactic substation called Galactic Coincidence Control (G.C.C.). Within which is the Solar System Control Unit (S.S.C.U.), within which is the Earth Coincidence Control Office (E.C.C.O.). The assignments of responsiblities from the top to the bottom of this system of control is by a set of regulations, which translated by E.C.C.O. for humans is somewhat as follows:"

To all humans
If you wish to control coincidences in your own life on the planet Earth, we will cooperate and determine those coincidences for you under the following conditions:
    1) You must know/assume/simulate our existence in ECCO
    2) You must be willing to accept our responsibility for control of your coincidences.
    3) You must exert your best capabilities for your susrvival programs and your own development as an advancing/advanced member of ECCO's earthside corps of controlled coincidence workers. You are expected to use your best intelligence in this service
    4) You are expected to expect the unexpected every minute, every hour of every day and of every night.
    5) You must be able to maintain conscious/thinking/ reasoning no matter what events we arrange to happen to you. Some of these events will seem catachlysmic/catastrophic/overwhelming: remember stay aware, no matter what happens/apparently happens to you.
    6) You are in our training program for life: there is no escape from it. We (not you ) control the long-term coincidences; you (not we) control the shorter-term coincidences by your own efforts.
    7) Your major mission on earth is to discover/create that which we do to control the long-term coincidence patterns: you are being trained on Earth to do this job.
    8) When your mission on planet Earth is completed, you will no longer be required to remain/return there.
    9) Remember the motto passed to us (from GCC via SSCU):
    "Cosmic Love is absolutelely Ruthless and Highly Indifferent: it teaches its lessons whether you like/dislike them or not."

(Excerpt from "The Dyadic Cyclone")

I  am quite sure that most TI's accept the presence of ECCO, knowing that their coincidences are managed to a point they are obviously aren't. Though I think the last statement about Cosmic Love "...teaches its lessons..." isn't quite in keeping with what really is transpiring. Rewritten, " is plain and unrepentant abusive admininstration of selective adversity...", more for TI's than for covertly covered victims or others who migh be actually free of any coverage. A one page link of a short profile of Dr. John C. Lilly here.

I am getting beamed again, as the evening sun angle is sufficient to become the putative source of a faux reflection that is aimed exactly at this apartment from the adjacent residential tower. Mind you, there are three residential towers that exhibit this property, but the closest one has the strongest beam. Not forgetting that the 2011 inaugural beam of yesterday was accompanied by a phone call (read, EMF at one's ear and head) from the in-town brother with his meandering call and that the beam started strobing, also uncharacteristic of a reflection.

Evening tea-time and chocolate are over, and I was accompanied by water usage noise from the N. neighbor apartment, putatively. These ridiculous on/offs of a supposed kitchen faucet, and then they repeat again, though fainter, from the bathroom with me seated at the same location. All this insane fuckery because I don't like the color brown, likely abetted by abuses of a degree for which they deleted my recall, all of it nearly, when aged 2 to 5. Though, there could be other recall deletions of a shorter duration in my primary grades; I found report cards for grade 1 and 2, with 16 and 17 missed days respectively. Apart from a week in the latter grade due to a horrid cold, I have no idea what happened to me for all those absences. [Now the siren cascade has started up with overhead clunking, both getting through my earmuffs].

Interupting me sending off resumes for job postings this afternoon seemed a big deal, as that was when I had the motivation to do some grocery shopping. I got right back to after the groceries and the subsequent tea-time. I look at the some 30 jobs I have applied for and wonder what is going on that I don't get a phone call. I got three possible types of gigs; IT, farm labor and forestry work. And zip. But given the extensive planning and arrangement that goes on with the few jobs I get, one can be sure that the perps needs come first. There are only freaks in farm work jobs, so their habit has been to keep me there for the past three years. Cannot have me being freak-free, can we now?

And this work obstruction has also been arranged to keep me broke, as I see my bank balance is slipped to two digit figures now, though only momentary as the disability income will come through next week before the end of the month. It was payment of my income tax that wiped me out this month. Thankfully, some had already been paid as I went, but given my mother's excessive mention of "income tax", usually misused, I suspect this is a term/concept of significant perp interest, as is all financial transactions of all kinds; check, bus fare, debit card, cash payments (few) and the like.

I just got zapped as a door slammed from the hallway. And have I mentioned how much I like getting zapped on this blog? Enough to ensure that final forms of retribution will be reserved for any asshole having anything to do with zapping me at any stage in my life, which includes the present Abuse Central and its nine years of this insane fuckery. Over what? That I don't like brown, red and yellow and the entire cast of characters/archetypes that inhabit the Favored and Unfavored, as listed in the linked blog posting to the right side. Not my problem, so what is this abusive insanity and why cannot the Fuckwits show up in person instead of this disability nonsense? I am being hounded over memories of past abuse infliction that I have no conscious recall for crissakes. How arcane and perverse is that?

More job perusing, and wondering what might be the next gig. We shall see if this oil and gas drilling laborer notion has any merit. At various times the perps have had me cranked up to be a fork lift operator and a heavy equipment operator as well. Expensive training in the latter case, as it can easily run $10k or more. After the hassle to get $3550 for a training grant in 2009, I don't need to go there again.

Time to blog off and call this one done; not a shut-in day, but a healthy reminder that the perps need to replay converging Fuckwits upon me, just a little more obvious today.

Thursday, April 21, 2011

Crumb Nutters

Recent past goings on of the last few days that were blocked from recall.
I did the "box trot", as in walking two blocks into the heart of downtown Victoria to a drug store with a post office inside to then get a parcel (brown cardboard box usually), and walk back to my apartment. This seems to be a big deal for the perps and is heavily gangstalked and stunted.

To start, when outbound at 0915h, I get the dudes parading around me at first the traffic light; one strange Fuckwit standing there then walks back from the intersection some 6' and stands on his tiptoes making out that he is looking over something, but there is nothing to be seen. Then he returns to the street corner doing the "come at me" stunt, then reverses and does his rubber necking  again. Finally he returns near my R side and doesn't come at me. Whie being distracted by this Fuckwit I get to see another that got in too close unheard, doing the lookaway thing. The traffic signal says "Walk" and I do so very fast to leave these Fuckwits behind. Then I get across to have someone almost stepping into me, and then some 30' further I get the brown E. Indian dude reading a book while walking along, one of those strange behaviors that has erupted in force since this insane harassment started up. Other Fuckwits abound until I get to the intersection of Douglas St. and View and lo, if there isn't an E. Indian (very brown skin) in a chocolate brown jacket. So.. on the signal I walk across and lo, if there isn't a negro stationed on the other side. Onto the drug store, and there is a woman with a tethered and harnessed black rabbit standing outside the entrance begging for cash.

Recall this is at 0915h, 45min. before the stores open, and long past the 0800-0830h office worker surge, and there had to be over 200 people out on the street on my short route. Maybe it is one of those "had to be there" moments, but the pedestrian population (read, gangstalker surge) is even getting absurd from last year.

I am now in the drug store at the back at the post office and this monster fat woman (260lb or more) is the post office clerk. She asks me for my ID and I supply my driver's licence, and then she goes off to the back room for the parcel. Then the fedora act starts pacing around, and encircles me. Then the skinhead Asian and a skinhead Caucasian, one aisle apart make the exact same move, coming from the N. turning at the exact identical moment and heading E down the next aisle. Perfect choreography it was, and both in black. All was needed was dance music. But the skinhead Asian, at the closer aisle, breaks form and does some more pass-bys, not really making out that he was there to do shopping.

With brown box in hand, I finally get out to wait for the traffic do the slow troll through the intersection, making out that N. bound (reverse to the commute) backups of traffic at 0915h is normal. The traffic stops for the light, and I am crossing with my posse, and then this yellowjacket cyclist seems to forget what he stopped for, or else thought he was exempt from the traffic regulations, and crosses 6' in front of me while on the crosswalk. I said something, but he made out that he didn't hear. I suppose the rest of the journey was uneventful as I cannot recall what transpired for the last block.

At the First Feral Family house in the last week the perps have upped the ante as to freakshow delivery. Last week when I was in the house in the late afternoon, a male ponytailed mailman "happened" to be just departing, having just delivered some mail. Like WTF; he isn't the regular mailman and is at least three hours later than usual. Then two days ago the cable service dude was working on the house to improve the cable lines for phone, and lo, when in the same location of the kitchen I see him leaving in his disgusting skinhead (shiny bald). Later the same day, in the same location when I "happen" to be passing through the kitchen and looking outside, they put a negro strolling along in mid-street. (Note that male ponytails, skinheads and non-Caucasians are very Unfavored; see the posting to the right).Talk about freakshow at one's doorstep. So it would seem the perps don't have enough freakshow gangstalkers when I am at the First Feral Family house, so they arrange for these Fuckwits to be just outside for all of two seconds of looking out the front window.

And what is it with the obstructing Fuckwits on the city bus at the rear doors? This wierd in a drivers cap gets on and sits 6' away- no big deal, but there was something about him that was odd, like he was mildly retarded. Two stops ahead of mine he gets up to stand at the rear door but doesn't ring the bell. I thought I was going to get company in getting off the bus when it pulled up to the next stop for me. But no, he just stands there in my way. I say "excuse me" loud enough and he doesn't move, standing 1' over him on the reard deck stairs. Then I repeat my request louder, and he gets it, and gets out of the way. This isn't a big deal on the face of it, but I cannot count the number of times (over 100) that the perps have arranged a rear exit door cluster fuck when I am am attempting to get off. They arrange the Fuckwits who aren't getting off to then stand in the way of those who are getting off (coming from two directions), and to pretend otherwise. It is plain bizarre to see this civic rudeness/cluelessness orchestrated so often as it is. And once, during a very packed bus, and with me standing near the rear door, they had their Fuckwits getting off and I was in the middle of this same clusterfuck that I had no intention of getting into. Go figure.
Today, Thursday, day before a national holiday for Good Friday.

The perps started on a beserk streak this morning, when they pulled the spoon from my hand and flew it 12" laterally into the tub of hemp seed (legal, nonTHC) I was holding in the other hand. This would be one of their more obvious stunts, because nearly everything they jerk from my hand goes straight down, faster than gravitational pull even. That begat a rage-ified reaction and a wonderful start to my day.

Then they began the crumb inindation games in earnest, planting crumbs on the counter that had just been cleaned of any crumbs. I was handling a jar of coconut butter, and none came out, as I upend the jar over the bread that is on the plate just to keep the crumb nonsense contained. But "somehow" some crumbs show up on the adjacent countertop, 8" away. I clean these up, look away for a reason, and another three coconut crumbs have arrived. Same for the bread, and then again for the chocolate (with breakfast, part of this imposed diet of brown foods they like ensure that I eat.

Another variant of the crumb games was to have a black crumb of no determinable source arrive on the bathroom sink when I was nearby, and then when I go to remove it, it is resistant to a degree, and only part of it pulls away. I have been put through the decremental crumb games before, and it seems they need me to do this every so often. Another way to crank me up.

Other excitement for the perps might of been that I did my bedsheet laundry today. Regular readers and TI's will know the perps go beserk over laundry in all unimaginable facets, and so screwing me to launder the sheets after three weeks instead of two weeks is yet another fascinating variable for them. And how did that jet black 10" hair get in my clean laundry? I'm in isolation treatment, so I don't get any kind of romantic associations, or even visitations. (Now they have said who it belongs to, but I won't believe it until I see her here, not on gangstalking duty, which I have at least twice).

Overhead pounding music is getting through mt earmuffs, along with a faux flute playing random notes from the hallway. So far, these noises seem disparate, though I have noticed the perps like to blend noises as one, and then stopping one of them so I can identify what it is. Similarly last week, when working in the First Freal Family house in the backyard; one lawn mower from two houses away, and then indentical noise lawnmower from the opposite direction were blended together. The first one quits and the second one continues, seeming to be a L and R side same-noise test.

I spent two hours at the local Oracle User's Group meeting this afternoon; another gangstalking scene, and first arranging the redcoat Asian behind me, and a yellow-jacket Caucasian in front of me who had an unerring ability to place his head directly in the way of me seeing the speaker. Moving my chair fixed that for a time, but then the speaker would move to set this bullshit up again, at least ten cycles of this nonsense. Then 50 minutes into the meeting, with my row empty of anyone else, a negro comes in and sits three chairs away. Like WTF; I went to an Oracle Convention in San Franciso with 15,000 attendees and I saw only one small cluster of negroes there. So here we have a meeting of no more than 15 in attendance, and a single negro is arranged to sit nearby to do the all-familiar back flexes and stretches that other gangstalkers do. Then the negro fucker decides that I need more aggravation and flashes the bright LCD of his cell phone at me four times in the last 20 minutes. How can all these Fuckwits be doing the same things independently?

Noise and harassment confluence; on the phone to my perp abetting brother, strobing light from outside, church bells ringing and overhead thumpy stereo music coming through. Also some Asians running in the hallway and squealing. Perps live for moments such as this.

A rare music listening tonight; Cole Porter "Anything Goes", and an Elvis Presley 4 CD set compilation of his 1950's work.

I am having some severe problems with the comments in Blogspot; old posted comments are getting re-displayed as new, and this is mixed with some new comments, so I don't know how this is all going to come out. -sorted out now.

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Out Time Before Gardening Time

More variations on gardening, as in weeding and soil digging, at the First Feral Family house today. I was out for coffee with a former work colleague until 1030h, then back to this apartment to then phone my perp abetting mother, and she told me that the in-town brother was in my neighborhood. So I called him, and he said he would come by, and so it "happened" that he drove into my regular outbound downtown bus stop just as I arrived there too. So, I get a ride where normally I wait for my bus. And not to forget that when picking daffodils last month, the crew bus would drop me off at the same location. Here we have bus-vehicle-same bus stop convergence, as in testing more combinations and permutations over where and how I get a ride at this same location. Exciting for the perps, but it tells me that they are sucking wind (literally with their vacuum cleaning games), if this is what they are pissing with after nine years of this depraved and insane abuse. Another deflating moment for me at least.

Interesting though, my colleague was without her smirk that was noticeable at our last encounter about a week ago. I have no idea what drives the "smirk look", whether something humorous was revealed in advance or do the perps intervene and have her wear it.

Yesterday was a big digging day too; weeding in other beds, with a huge mound of weeds, 6'x6' and 1' high, still with lots of soil attached to the roots.

But the noisescape, as presented in suburbia, starts the same way. First the STRATCOM bombers overhead, at least three in the first hour, and then the local aircraft are buzzing overhead. Then neighbor noise, either lawnmowers, or today, a gasoline powered string trimmer from a neighbor. Then on the nearby street, San Juan, the heavy duty rattling diesels and the performance muffler noises start up, giving way to hotrod muffler noise for the last two hours of digging. And what noise do I hear when I get back to my place? Why more freaking hotrod muffler noise. So I look outside to see the offending vehicle, and there was nothing but generic sedans which are almost never modified. Per usual, if I challenge to see the offending vehicle, and it isn't there, the noise drops off real fast.

Reading tonight, with the Harley motorcycle noise getting through my earmuffs somehow. Plus some overhead pounding too, another mysterious noise event given that there is 12" of concrete and steel between floors/ceilings.

And an update on what I suspect the perps pulled off in this region, given their preoccupation with petroleum products and how they love to hound me with gasoline and heating fuel tankers. A tractor trailer tanker crashed on the highway area we call the Malahat, and dumped 42,000 liters of gasoline into the Goldstream River drainage, less than 100m from the river itself. The highway was closed for nearly 24 hours until the mess was cleaned up, but apparently it still smells bad, some three days later.

And to note, the Goldstream River was the one that someone put flourescent dye in 12-2010 and made the water turn green. Also coincidentally, (used advisedly), someone put the same flourescent dye in public fountains recently, per news article.

I did fill up my mother's vehicle yesterday after a protracted round of taking her places, duly gangstalked with all manner of acts. I suppose there is nothing too conspiratorial in filling up a vehicle, as I do this  a dozen times per year or so. Regular readers and TI's will know there isn't an nano-second in my existence that isn't governed, scripted and controlled by my keepers, but I only mention this should other TI's have perp harassment and stunts that involve petroleum products. And as for those very big spills like a year ago in the Gulf of Mexico, I am sure the perps are up to something for all that I sense their involvment in (managed) world events.  I don't go big into conspiracy theories here, but it is most interesting to observe the similarities that I get to observe that appear to have some connection with this intensified abusive harassment regimen they keep me in.

Same deal both days, today and yesterday, in taking the city bus into downtown from suburbia in the evening. Some 20 to 30 passengers on the bus at that time of day? What a joke, especially now that the Stanley Cup playoffs are underway. One dude came onto the bus with his partial case of beer, a seeming leftover from his visitation to his pals over watching hockey on TV. I haven't seen anyone do this for over 30 years, college days; the dude takes the "loser cruiser" to visit his pals. Right. More like it was for brown colored glass with amber liquid inside for a mobile gangstalking color reference. And that he hung around for five minutes at the same bus stop I was at surely wasn't coincidental.

Anyhow, there is much more I could write, but I am having a "writer block", meaning I am getting messed with as to what to write about. Censorship by mind-control, a new twist on self-censorship.

Monday, April 18, 2011

Shouting and Pounding

Nothing but male banter and shouting since I got back from the First Feral Family house after a morning of digging up plants in the backyard and transplanting them elsewhere. The noisescape was duly increased in suburbia too; four STRATCOM bombers, followed by private aircraft then the landbourne noises of motorcycles, hot rod mufflers, performance mufflers and heavy duty vehicles. Sometimes serially, a motorcycle noise immediately followed by a loud muffler noise, and then a heavy duty vehicle noise and then repeat the cycle. As I have said many times on this blog, the perps cannot get enough noise abuse in whenever I am handling plant material; from weeding, to digging up and transplanting to soil removal from the root ball and on it goes. Way back when in high school I was on a parks program, room and board and $5/day in 1971 in Garibaldi Park at 4500' elevation, and we dug sods up on a new trail route and carried them on stretcher-like carriers to vegetation stripped areas to abate the fragile alpine regeneration there. And here we are pounding the ceiling and having male shouting going on as I write this, as it seems even thinking about or writing about these same events of this morning's noise barrage begets extra noise too. And it is a Monday, the return from the First Feral Family house visitation, when the perps go extra beserk and insane over what ever they expect to gain. It is plain fucking abusive as it is relentless.

More male banter and shouting eruptions, heard through my earmuffs and then a strobing light "reflection" off the adjacent residential tower, previously noted and photographed on this blog. This time it strobed and flickered, not just the constant "in the beam", one that unerringly finds my apartment from three different buildings over the course of an afternoon and evening. Now, to complement the voice noise, overhead pounding has also erupted. And constant plasma lighting on this LCD screen for the last few hours, changing the greyscale over the LCD in select places, usually in the form of vertical and/or horizontal bands, sometimes even shadowing text with a yellow background band, invariably on the text line I am reading of course. How would they know that?

A faux job "offer", adroitly timed by email when I was away at the First Feral Family house yesterday afternoon. The email asked if I would like to start "tomorrow", meaning today, and of course I missed it entirely. I phone earlier tonight and the person said he hired every one he needed to today. Like WTF; no phone interview, an offer by email (sort of) on a Sunday for work the next day, and then all for naught. Bizarre, and staged of course.

And the Canada Post Office is back to their unusual tricks of not putting a notice in my mailbox as to a parcel delivery today. I got to find out by way of the online tracking number that it is delivered to an address on the notice. Isn't that clever, making a reference to something I didn't recieve, and in the process, defying their basic practice of notification of parcels, by not putting anything in my mailbox. Is this the fourth or fifth time in the last year they have pulled this off? More bizarre stuff IMHO.

The overhead pounding and clunking settled down about an hour ago. And the assholes added a whole body zapping while one horrendous thundering pounding noise came on. And have I mentioned how much I hate getting zapped on this blog? At least  a dozen times or more, and it leaves me in a mighty pissed off state for the rest of the evening.

And what is with the "red testing"? I am getting momentary red plasmic blotches on things in greater quantity, this LCD display being one that is constantly befouled with this kind of jerkaround. Then when cleaning the dishes at dinner I get a momentary red blotch on the whitish bristles of the dishes cleaning brush in peripherial vision which immediately got my attention, enough to swear at them. Then again, some two hours later when cleaning the dishes for tea-time, the assholes did the same thing, adding a momentary red blotch to the dishes brush again in the identical location. Another round of swearing at the assholes. I got plenty of extra red vehicle convergence when driving into downtown today, at least six vehicles surging into or out of view at one glance.  I suppose after all the years of adding red blotches on this LCD screen, and red web pages too, the perps were looking for how I detect "normal" (created by them of course) red flashes from anomalous red flashes. I don't know, nor do I care, and nor should any fucking insane organization should be using me to find out. NOT MY PROBLEM, so why am I involved in this utterly sick abusive netherworld that amounts to total awareness containment and life-rape?

And when getting the bus yesterday, why, they put on their finest noise to accompany the arrival of the bus, me getting on, and paying my fare. That noise is, of course, the most loathed one of all, a Harley Davidson motorcycle, putting on its ripping best noise to lead the bus into the bus stop. And lo, if they didn't put a red vehicle behind it with an ill-maintained muffler that was a harmonic of the motorcycle's noise. Never has a single city had so many bad or loud mufflers in all of human endeavor, save perhaps, third-world countries, though I don't know for sure, never having much scratch for travelling. The perps went muffler noise silly in late 2006 or early 2007 and haven't let up yet. And sometimes there is no muffler causing vehicle passing by, just the added noise. One such event today was the buzzy Vespa scooter noise that "happened" as I was crossing from kitchen to desk, and have a view out to the street. I ask the assholes out loud "where is it?" (the Vespa), and what do I get to see instead? Three same red vehicles converging, passing each other on the street and no Vespa whatsoever. So here we are, nine years later of this intense fulltime abuse, and they arrange scooter noise as a set up for me to look down and see three same red sedans below. All for a two second long glimpse out the window as I was crossing the floor of my apartment, a whole 7' of distance. Such is how tightly they coordinate my existence and all things they deem I need to see, and to what ridiculous ends.

Thats the blog posting for today, as the typo sabotage is getting out of hand.

Saturday, April 16, 2011

Weeding in the Wind

I am back from a visit to the First Feral Family house, doing weeding on this bed in the middle of the backyard. I am using the recently acquired Japanese hand hoe, and it is quite a potent tool for hand weeding. Only in large open patches can the garden fork do better, though that required more standing and then bending. With the hand hoe, I am on my knees, green colored foam kneepads to be exact, and regular readers will know how obsessed the perps are about knees and kneepads. I wore these same kneepads last year when potato picking, but gave up on them as the dirt would nearly always flick into the pad and get trapped between my knee and the inside of the pad. Many kneepads later, I have a pair that fits better, but I don't think it is the ideal type for the same reason. As always, my choices are highly constrained and I don't get to see what others might on  the same web sites, and too, I routinely get mind-fucked into "forgetting" the most important details and then not getting what I intended.

And as part of the routine when weeding in suburbia, I get rounds of noise from all sides, starting with the STRATCOM overflights (3), smaller aircraft, neighbor lawn mowers, the peripatetic roofing noise, the pinging of someone leisurely hitting a steel peg (once per 5 seconds), loud mufflers of all kinds (hot rods, performance mufflers and ill-maintained stock mufflers, and motorcycles of three noise types (loud throbbing Harley Davidson, high revving Japanese motorbikes and the throbby trail bike noise). Often the noises are timed to when I am about to touch or let go of something, say when throwing a clod of weeds into a pile. And too, I cut many roots as part of weeding, and this is an exciting moment for the perps, as always. Another big perp moment I have come to recently learn about, often augmented with coicident noise, a sudden runny nose, moths flying in from nowhere and other incursions, is the act of planting. Usually a few keeper plants gets pulled out to get the weeds off them, and then after weeding I plant them again. It seems that this is an exciting perp moment. And if I think back to my farming jobs, there was one day they had me on bulb picking, and the crew of Punjabis on cabbage planting not far away. The foreman got a call for another few bulb pickers to help the cabbage planting crew, so me and a negro woman were selected. But as there was a new negro male who wasn't doing well, I was asked to lend him my hand rake, which I did. (Of 20 on the crew, these were the only two negroes). The negro woman and I did infill planting of cabbage plugs, filling in where the planting machine missed a spot. The Punjabis were all over me for how to plant exactly right after an initial training by the negro woman who had done this before. I got my multicultural experience that day, and the perps continue with placing brown skinned people around me, even today.

The wind was very strong when I started weeding, and in conjunction with the noise, it seemed to be almost synchronous, especially when pulling on a stubbon root. It was a sunny day in all directions when I started at 1100, but by 1500h, there was this huge almost-black cloud to the north, which I hadn't noticed as it was still sunlit. This black cloud was behind the pine trees, some 60' tall, and I suppose the perps were up to their typical idiotic tricks of changing the light quality as it comes through foliage. And too, doing some color contrasting with the corresponding greyscale color, dark green pine needles, very dark grey clouds.

I was on the city bus, at 1934h on a Saturday, and it ended up with some 30 passengers, some standing. I was on the rear raised deck in the transvere seat, and there were 15 of them arranged around me, all seated. With one exception, all were about 20 y.o., and then they put the negro onboard, standing on the lower deck near the rear exit door. Give me a break, Saturday evening bus with 30+ passengers; it never happened before until all this insane bullshit erupted. So... the negro moved now and again, and did his pointless looking back every so often for me to see his face, and I this was the set up for the latter 10 minutes of the bus ride. The ones either side of me looked at the LCD screens of their cell phones, as did the dude opposite, holding it at his crotch for then entire trip. Based on what I experience at my desk, the perps are pumping something unusual and unconventional via the web at me, and I suppose the LCD displays on cell phones are doing the same thing; acting as a localized reference for this same scenario of the PC at my desk. Last year, when I was doing the Oracle database courses, they had someone tail me with a net book PC on the bus. In the class, besides the addition of the LCD displays at every desk, they had class members with a red plastic net book. It was the same net book, but each class a different student would have it, seeming to be some kind of reference for distance dependent testing, what they do all the time with gangstalkers, and slow trolling vehicles.

A nut shave last night, and it is very common for the perps to be extra beserk the next morning, or even two days later. I don't know quite why, except to think that there must be quite a different energetic signature from this exercise, using a different model of razor (three blades), and the usual two blade razor on my face and front. The usual cacaphony of coincident extra noise erupted while shaving last night; hallway talking, overhead pounding and the running-water-in-pipes noise.

A screaming rage fit as the assholes just deleted 15 minutes of blog posting; it somehow "blew up" when I posted it, after saving it. The save somehow didn't work as well as the posting that followed. Funny how these things keep "happening". It would seem the perps didn't like what I wrote, or else they are back to their vile habits of wanton deletion of my files. Needless to say I am fucking enraged.

Let see if this works, though the content was not retyped or recovered in any way. [now is recovered, next day, below]

A short add on, as this won't be much, going to the First Feral Family house to earn some chump change, much needed after the string of sabotage of late. They screwed with my check ordering so I end up with twice what I wanted, and I made sure at each stage I wasn't getting screwed as I expect this now. Then my shoes are wearing down very quickly in the heels, only six months old.

And overhead pounding noise this morning that tracked me from kitchen to bathroom to desk in living area, the last a few minutes ago while reading a Tina Fey interview. Funny how they go for the pounding noise for planted thoughts (review of past abuses and fuckery while shaving) and then again when reading about someone. Now the sunlight cycling games; full on, then dimmed, with very rapid and unnatural transitions. One big light fluctuating, instead of the many outdoor lights and headlights trained on me in the daytime.

Yesterday's deletion;
This was at the downtown bus stop, waiting for the outbound bus.  They had bus arrive but it wasn't for my route, but it took the three weirds that were in and around the bus stop. Instant relief, also something the assholes seem to test for. Within a minute another bus is coming, and "without thinking", read, mind-controlled lack of mental reflex, because I would be double checking everything if I was allowed, I stand by the curb to demonstrate that I want to take the bus as it is approaching. But while standing there I then get to read the route, and it is the wrong one so I sit down and it passes by. Then walking along comes a negro woman in a pink-salmon colored dress and a dark waistjacket in these fugly corn rows in her hair, and she walks over the exact spot on the sidewalk where I was allowed to make the determination that I got faked out over the wrong bus. Within a minute, my bus arrives, and by this time she is on the opposite side of the street, same side of me on the bus, having jaywalked across. So it would seem that the perps need to plant dark skinned people (maybe even canines too) over top of where I made a determination (after getting screwed out of making one earlier). Just an interesting note as to what the assholes are up to, as I don't really have a definite technical answer, save delving into energetics of location (soil, concrete etc.), of determination and decision (neural activity), and how skin color, as with all colors, seems to have a big part of it.

Later in the bus ride, a woman and her boyfriend skip past all the empty seats on the way and plant themselves in front of me in the transverse seats, me in the llast forward row seat, my usual spot unless they plant gangstalkers there in advance. This isn't the first time someone has made a point of getting in front of me on the bus, a mobile gangstalking platform if nothing else. Though nicely dressed, her hair is unkempt and matted, and she had it dyed red, or it was a natural red, as I couldn't tell for sure. And red hair is a decidedly Unfavored sight, and having hair that looks like a pit of snakes is yet another fugly Unfavored look. So it would seem that the perps are still working on my aversion to dreadlocks and anything remotely looks like them.

Friday, April 15, 2011

Nine Year Anniversary

It was nine years ago to the day that my life got ripped and shredded into this constant harassment and threat world, and while not evident at the time, being a near total mind fucked slave to some huge human experimentation agenda that even encompasses war, petroleum (transport, burning and spilling), sentience of botanical plants, and possibly even object sentience. Not all of that was revealled at the time, as I thought it was some kind of police invasion/takedown at first. That is, I was planted with these notions and the concurrent surrepticious entry of my apartment hours earlier suggested that someone was looking in all the closets, behind books and through my desk, and even smeared blue ink on my office chair mat. And someone was able to hack my PC as well, which pointed to some kind of serious investigation that had not yet been completed, even though I had done nothing wrong. I was holding an IT job in Seattle at the time, and there had been some recent strange looks at me for the prior week, and I could not figure out why. I thought I was going to get laid off the next day, as this was the company rumor. No big deal I thought, the gig was getting thin with a major project being shelved, and the notion of data analysis recognition and discipline in the company was going from bad to worse.

I ended up going to the 24 Hour Fitness to avoid the takedown event, and when there at 0200h, these guys show up with seeming holsters under their sweat pants, at least two. And someone else double parked outside my vehicle on the street for a minute or so. I couldn't figure out how these dudes were showing up as they did not come through the front door where I was near. Then, I found my medications that were in my pack that was in my locker to be missing when I knew that I had packed them. At around 0400h I returned to my apartment, and saw my medications back in my bathroom where they were. Like WTF, how did they get back ahead of me? I later fell asleep on the floor, and it might of been some six hours later when I awakened with six males holding me up, carrying back into my apartment, who then placed me down, and it seemed that I fell asleep again for a little while longer.

When I woke up there were sounds of dogs barking and rattling chains on cages and I thought this was a real live SWAT team takedown. What did I know about these things anyhow? All manner of strange things happened, like the door moving inside the door jam, a hole being cut in the floor from below, brown plasma flashes that caused me to collapse with no energy, then fuzzy ball masers were flying around like bumblebees, and coming at each other and either crossing paths firectly in front of me or else reversing to emulate crossed paths. Then there were things that would just appear from nowhere; a screwdriver that I picked up and its blade just drooped, and batteries that would roll in from nowhere. At some point it ended, and no one came in. That is how I first recalled it, but later, I realized that there were personnel that came in, one teleporting through the bathroom wall, and another blocking the toilet with a balloon that he placed in it as he flushed it. Why I let someone I didn't know block my toilet tells me I was totally mind-controlled, as I would never let this happen. So somehow, someone fucked my temporal memory as I have never had any problem recalling the time sequence of anything, and yet somehow I did at this time. There were other vignettes of me taking my swim club jacket to another part of the building to give to them, even if I didn't see them in person at this location. On the way back, this time outside the building as it was wrapped around three sides of a city block, I see some 20 people or so, ordered together for a group photo outside my place. I have no recollection if I passed by or made any association with this high-tech apartment invasion. By this time it was about 1500 to 1600h in the afternoon. Anyhow, this was the opening salvo, and many of the things that I saw or experienced still come to roost in the ongoing harassment, like the toilet shit games and the perps obsession over the color of brown. I spoke with a Ti about this, and she said I might of been in an altered state. I might of been, and I did feel a little "floaty" then, but who did this and why? And nine years later I still don't have an answer.

The first gangstalker showed up the next morning on my way to work, sitting in the chair in the hallway for no seeming reason, when no one had ever sat there for the prior 18 months. In fact, the apartment had minimal other tenants; I only saw some no more than a half dozen times for the prior 18 months, which is consistent with the last place in Everett, and the places I have lived in since. This apartment has 140 suites, and I am hard pressed to believe that there are that many who live there. Most of the houses around the First Feral house seem empty too. The odd neighbor seems to return every now and again to be seen or to make noise, but it appears that no one else is around. My take on this is that the irradiation, of whatever kind it is, is just too intense for them to take unless they want to be involved to the degree that I am. Another take on having few genuine neighbors is that the perps don't want other's energies to interfere with me, so they keep them away on a regular basis. I have no idea as to how they pull this off en masse, as the paucity of neighbors seems to be for a surrounding block at least, maybe two.

For the second time today, extensive overhead pounding continues immediately after meal time. I have much the same food, quesadilla with a tapenade base and cooked chicken on top, and I sense that post-mealtime represents a big challenge for their remote energetics assay games. Hence, the unusual number of stunts that go on before mealtimes, lunch and dinner at least, as they are much the same. As with yesterday, this is a concrete and steel constructed building with 12" thick floor/ceilings, and I have no idea how anyone could conventionally pound such a structure and make the amount of noise that comes through my hearing protection.

And the before meal time event was having me review recent past membership of the Association of BC Professional Foresters, and finding someone a little younger than me is retired from the Ministry of Forests. Which is being treated as a wake-up call, as to what I am doing, (read, mind-fucked into doing) looking for work situations that require me to go back to school for training. And these being manual labor jobs as well. So... why don't I just put my feet up and stay on the disabled roster? That is a good question, but it does need to be supplemented with some $400/month to keep me solvent, as I am not able to get any social housing, meaning reduced rent, even if I have been on the list for three years. Besides, I really don't like doing nothing at all, and the perps like me to know it (more overhead rumbling and thundering as I typed that), and have me in a constant state of agitation over securing some kind of employment. They have never let me relax, take stock and stay put; instead, always some kind of angst about being "fulfilled" in work and the rest of it. Not that that has ever happened either. So... a new round of vocational consideration is going to evolve from this, though I don't see anything changing.

I go to take a pee in the bathroom, some 9' away in a separate room, and the overhead pounding follows me in there. Just totally amazing that whoever does this knows exactly where I am at any given moment. Though, truth be told, I am long over admiring the perps' total containment and awareness, which is putting it mildly, as it is more like totally scripted containment, down to every last drop/speck that "shows up" in my proximity. Dandruff arrives on my shirt regularly now, upper L and "must be" (read, planted obsession) removed immediately prior to taking a pee. This way they get some interaction with my fingers and my shirt, navy blue in color. Same at dinner tonight, and eating salad with an oil and vinagrette dressing on it; a 1/8" speck of vinagrette somehow ended up 20" from the dinner plate on the table. Yesterday they arranged a multi-droplet vinagrette splatter stunt; three droplets were arranged in a line from the same splatter event of it flying in from nowhere; two on the outer regions of the dinner plate and the third 2" further and managing to land exactly where the drinking glass met the table, touching both at the same time. It was exactly aligned with the other two, and we are talking about a deep brown color here, one of the perps' favorite colors to test me on with small introductory/incremental methods.

An earlier round of restless legs and jabs to my feet and knees got me off this PC and chair and I was controlled to read an old book, one with discolored pages. I laid down on my yellow bed cover to do so, and within five minutes I was screwed out of reading. So, I make the usual evening time tea, Green Ginger by Tao it is called, with a yellow-green wrapper around every tea bag. Which happened to be the identical color of the furniture in the box of a pickup this afternoon, shortly after having this same tea then. The overhead pounding noise got really serious at this point, and was also accompanied by voice noise and a steady thumpy beat, though not from music. And when I make the tea, why, it is the same color as the discolored pages in the book. So it would seem it was a color test ahead of the tea I was to drink. This afternoon's sofa-in-pickup being a test of the teabag wrapper.

Thankfully the perps settled down, reduced the noise, and let me back on this PC to finish this blog posting. And lo, if in-town-brother wasn't phoning to BS, something he rarely does. And he was keeping on the theme of what I was doing. Which is what my colleague who took me for coffee asked when she already knew the answer. Which is, nothing, and this seems to be a big perp moment, having me declare that I am not working, and that my many job applications aren't getting any response whatsover when it is clear that I have all the experience and training they are asking for. But as the perps have beat me down to $9/hr for the last four years of attempted work, I am quite sure they would not want me to get $22/hr in an unionized job for some nine months. It is just not allowed at this stage of the Fuckover Agenda.

Which begs the questions as to what the perps are now looking for. One of their themes is employment, lack thereof, pay, pay rate and type (hourly or piece rate) and the entire gestalt of work. So it would seem with two persons asking me this week "what I am doing", when they both know the answer in advance, that the perps are now moving onto psychic discoveries, the remotely detected psychic energetics about every concept, notion, tradition and every human quality or artifice, including language itself.

At nine years of this insane depraved abuse, it now seems the perps just got started (as was their mantra back in 2005), getting very close to 100% mind control. I get plenty of jabs and pains in my temples these days, and I can only surmise it is the assholes playing "Fish" with my brain and its neural properties. Which then begs the question, how much longer are they going to be life raping me and all the other TI's out there. I don't have an answer to that, though they say four more years. That is coming from the most unreliable sources of all, the party that manages the deception plan to the same degree as the real plan, which they won't fully divulge.

There you have it, the nine year anniversary of life rape onset, playing out 24/7/365, down to every subsecond of my existence, and in a totally scripted and contained existence to ensure constant threat and adversity from all quarters, including the perversion of the conventional physicality of everything, including gravity.

And what do I have to show for it? No job, minimal family contact, engaging with dipshits by design, constant gangstalking, especially with the coffee and brown drink bearing crowd, (on top of me when out to post a letter today), and on a disablitiy that is supposed to be difficult to get. I am kept in a constant state of duress, and the mind invasive disruptions bring on at least 30 vocalized enragements a day. On the bright side, I am 56 and look younger than 33 (lines came out from under my eyelids last year, coming in at age 33), they straightened my sway back and changed my walking gait in 2004 (for the better), they strengthened all my musculature, over my abdomen especially (2006), and I have biceps that stay in place (2009) for the first time that don't need to be maintained by pushing weights. But as I didn't ask for this insane, abusive and relentless Fuckover, I want my life back, I want to be left alone, and I want to see at least 200 of you unarmed fuckers lined up against a wall, and have free reign to wield a bat with a supply of rounds to see that justice is done.

Thursday, April 14, 2011

Wave On

A visit with the male employment counsellor this morning. And lo, if a certain Asian person known to me in my forestry employment wasn't in his suit and standing at the entrance in mid-sidewalk speaking with another person. How totally belligerent, to stand in mid sidewalk, maybe 8' wide, and outside of an office building door at that. That he works around the corner in my old office building until 1999 surely wasn't a fluke, as I have seen others I know from this IT department also "happening" in the past three years to cross my path and pretending not to know me. All to strange these managed coincidences.

The employment counsellor was an interesting person; a BSc in Mathematics, and a Masters in Philosphy, an old time guy, though with dark grey hair and not the white haired kind who seemed to be particularly Favored. But even if he wasn't Italian, I have never seen someone wave their hands so much in all my life. And I have noted in past blogs  that exaggerated hand and feet motions seem to have erupted among the gangstalkers in general, and First Feral Family in particular. None are Italian to my knowledge. But he was helpful, if over talkative at times, but he did pose an interesting question as to if I thought that my pursuit of IT work after a nine year absence was going to be fruitful. Could be, don't know for sure. My perp abetting mother talked it down, briefly casting aspersions, and she knows absoutely nothing about IT work. (But she is a total liar). And the counsellor also asked if the Oracle database classes were really an upgrade to performing business analysis. The aren't, except they would make a better business analyst if he knew about the implementation architecture in advance. I said the Oracle courses were the best possible and publically availible courses to be had, and while belonging to a more technical side in the IT, they don't have direct business analysis efficacy. Food for thought, though as usual, everything is stage managed to the most minute detail, so nothing can be taken at face value from any source, any time. Even the partially trusted ones have a habit of turning on me.

Anyhow, the perps are still on about their sending to do drilling up north somewhere, the super-compensated laborer, though I cannot see that happening for logistical and financial reasons. No such topic, or related topic was mentioned by either of us at the meeting with the employment counsellor this morming. Employment counsellors aren't in the business to supply wild notions such as "go west/north etc.old man", but perhaps this is the stage for a number of meetings that will slowly grind down any prospects of IT work. Even if I spent $200 on getting all my nice pants' waist lines altered by a tailor last month. So who knows where the bullshit goes, especially on the vocational front.

I see the Association of BC Forest Professionals is having their annual general meeting in Victoria next Febuary (2012). I cannot see the perps arranging this without me being in town to commute with, or get gangstalked, by all my colleagues. Yes, I have plenty of volunteer time to offer the steering comittee, but I just loathe this dumbshit gangstalker game where the formerly trusted, who aren't now, attempt to lapse into their former habits but making it plainly obvious that it has quite a different take, because I know its contrived, and they know I know. Not like before when all kinds could do their stunts and games, and having me think it was in-character.

A 1.5 hour nap attack after lunch today, sleeping on the yellow bed covers and being duly gangstalked by a parked yellow school bus outside, and lo, if there wasn't the troubador act outside also with a yellow duffle bag slung over his back. And I did get more than usual yellow colored vehicles on me when walking to the employment center this morning. All to "go with" the yellow paper I recieved from the counsellor, his notes on how to change up my resume. I couldn't believe that two former employment counsellors couldn't give me the same advice, even if directly asked. But that is how it goes in FUD-world, managed to be nearly totally clueless.

A visitation to the local LD store, another gangstalking experience, per usual. And they would not dissapate from the chocolate section, even after two looks while getting other things, the same crowd of five was clustered there. And they even put one of those wretched motorized wheelchairs in the aisle to do a 180 degree turn exactly in front of where the Milka bars were. Then a negro woman in horrendous hair popped up at least three times as I flitted about the store. The large gutted manager was doing his "gut strut" again, looking back and talking to someone, but moving toward me at the same time. Then the Fuckwit in front of me protracted his stay at the cashier by counting out his coins at length, then figured out that he needed a $5 bill, added it to the pile, and then told the cashier to add it up for him. Fucking rude, never mind the geriatric age of over 65 that he seemed.

And what is with the ambulatory male gangstalkers especially who approach me looking backwards at absolutely nothing of notice, and then make out they are on a collision course, only to bring their head around at the last instant? I have never seen so many rude fuckers in public not looking where they are going, except in this Gangstalk Capital of Canada (Victoria, British Columbia, Canada). I suspect it is an attempt to limit me seeing their faces and getting an immediate total look of the Fuckwit and the threat factor at the same time. This way they can eliminate the facial component of the threat for a few seconds while the Fuckwit is walking forward with their head turned the wrong way. Also, they get one of their spinal twists in as well, and if yoga class was anything to go by, the perps do love the TI or the gangstalker to do spinal flexing.

The overhead pounding has started up again, along with high pitch whine noise, and the earmuffs have crackling noises in them. Again, how does anyone manage to pound 12" of concrete ceiling/floor with such consistency and under what conventional guise? And their suite should be carpeted like this one, so what is the deal? Have we given up on having an ostensible conventional cause? At least four years ago for the overhead pounding, as long as I have been here. And don't forget, this same behaviour erupted in the last place, though it was wood frame construction and at least had an excuse. And three  places ago, I lived on the top floor of a four story apartment and they still pounded the ceiling by putting on pretend workers on the roof for crissakes. Once when there (2004-05), when watching TV and some odd black and white patterns became bothersome all of sudden, (the first time I have experienced this), there was a sudden arrival of personnel on the roof exactly overhead of me, pounding my ceiling. Which means, they detected some kind of particular cognitive/threat reaction to their orchestrated TV games, and immediately teleported Fuckwits overhead, even if on a roof. I changed the channel and that was the end of that.

Anyhow, a slow day doing time, but at least I got out.