Sunday, April 03, 2011

Between the Rainshowers

A forecast for good weather and it did look good this morning, and so I set off to the First Feral Family house to do some gardening work for a modicum of pay. Then ten minutes before lunch, a rain squall hits, getting me drenched as I was cleaning up to go inside. It got sunny again during lunch which lured me outside afterwards to fill two halves of a plastic former compost box with a soil mixture, part local mineral soil that I had piled from scraping down this backyard area to level, and part plastic bagged composted potting soil from the garden center. And that was respectively, brown and black soil, for those that follow the color based antics and stunts the perps routinely pull, not to mention their obsession over soil itself. And again, when mixing these two soils in the black plastic boxes, the STRATCOM overflight noises started up, the local suburbia hotrod noises came on, and then the rainshower came on, to drive me inside. And so I attempted to wait out the rain by reading the newspapers for an hour, but to no avail. My perp-abetting mother came back from visiting my father at the old-folks place (apparent dementia, though he has gone out of character at least once), and so the inevitable tea and (brown) cookies, and then with the rain still going it was time to come back. That is, via the city bus freakshow, a portable gangstalking platform I have come to know. But she couldn't find the bus schedule, nearly always findable in that warren of disorganization, and after ten minutes of fussing around, finds it her vile blood red handbag that she has started up with again. I get the honors of looking up the bus times in the just-found-in-the-red-handbag bus schedule, and with the rain still coming down, I get an offer to get driven to the bus stop. So... off to there, and lo, if there wasn't a profusion of red vehicles about for the three minute drive there, and other vehicles out too, far in excess of a normal Saturday in suburbia. A six minute wait at the bus stop, and more trains of vehicles, the usual greyscale colors (white, silver-grey, mid-grey and black), with the odd insertion of red vehicles. The bus comes, and without the usual plethora of freaks-from-suburbia it has been, and I even get a rear bench seat next to the window. Often, even if two people on the bus, they will often have these seats taken, to force me to take a side facing seat. Not freak-free for long though; in fact, it was more of a dudes-show today, building up to six Caucasian males clustered around me for some 12 minutes or so, and then the insertion of a Mid-eastern male in the center of this cluster. The dude in front of me seemed to have a nervous tic or something, constantly jerking his arm up to adjust his earphones, hair, hoodie or something, so long as his arm flicked up quickly. A pain to be around, but any thoughts of bailing out and walking were redirected to watching the red vehicle show continuing outside the bus, and for a time, leading the bus. Then at what seems to be a critical intersection that then bends direction, the rain stopped and lo, if there wasn't some four red vehicles lined up in file with some eight other greyscale vehicles, then two more reds sprinkled in among a few more greyscale vehicles. Funny how that all happened at once, at this location known for substantial strings of parked vehicles, sirens at other times, and various other feints and games seemingly associated with vehicle direction change. (Shelbourne becoming Begbie at Bay St., S. bound, for locals).

Regular readers will know of the perps' obsession over having me handle soil, attend to plant matter, even cutting it (e.g. daffodil flower harvesting and countless pruning jobs), and find this increased activity, noise, adversity and other orchestrated vexations to be highly consistent with what I have experienced these past nine years. I haven't had anyone attempt to put this together in concert with the full perp agenda; even the TI's I met last August were rather tenuous about speculating on the perps' sick assed methods and ultimate agenda. They just didn't want to talk about what the big picture might be for some reason.

So it would seem that I get to do gardening in bits and pieces, as last week it was the same. And if that means weather manipulations, so be it. Given the propensity of the perps to place water or pee droplets in greater quantities and with more obvious extra-conventional gravitic fuckery, it would seem that adding water into their research seems to aid their cause, if judiciously and carefully placed. And of course, driving me away from the outside location where I had been working to inside, to attempt some kind of energetic reference between the two locations. Not forgetting too, that I had been standing on an area where I dug up two sheets of plastic last year, and placing sifted soil in boxes that were over yet more sheets of plastic, yet to be pulled out. Some of these long term buried plastic sheets are most curious, as the soil hasn't been disturbed for over 20 years, and yet there is some orange colored poly sheeting buried too, and that stuff has been around for only 10 years. And when I asked my in-town brother about how that might of happened, why, I get the goofy smirk, but no verbal answer. Funny how that happens.

A few car alarm noise events from outside, getting through my earmuffs, and when first taken off to better understand what the noise was, some Asian female chatter erupted outside my door from the R side, outside being to my L as I sit here in online-land. Then a later round of the same thing almost; the slow build-up of the noise, then noticing the noise, remove the earmuffs to figure out what the noise was, and it was the same car alarm again, and this time dude talk noise came from outside as well. A seeming test of differing voices from different directions with the same introductory noise (car alarm) and having me remove the earmuffs (dark green plastic with black vinyl headband).

Other stuff recalled from earlier today was the freakshow at the bus stop when outbound. A butt sucking (cigarette smoking) woman in the bus shelter (illegal to do this here), and a dreadlock hair (aka hurl-do) woman hanging around, then a normal dressed woman and a passing parade. First there was a guy I know from nearly two decades ago, he was a local DEC salesman at the time but knew his technology well, and he was coming toward me, S. bound, though pretended not to know me, fine. I am N. bound, turn E. to the bus stop, and he comes back, this time with a newspaper and a banana in the same hand. His seeming mission was to purchase one of each at the corner store nearby. Like WTF; have I not complained about the excess of banana stalkers, and the excess of paper bearing stalkers, and now he has one of each in one hand. Could this be the latest in perp harassment complexity; putting the banana with the paper and having the Fuckwit walk by, once without, and then with, and first crossing paths N-S, then E-W? That he was in a black T-shirt on a 10C day was odd. Also, with the exception of the white hair he didn't look that much older from 20 years ago. And LOL, with the perp's age regression they have done to me, I would of looked the same age as of then.

Then two dudes come bounding along like Newfoundland dog puppies, one in the very Unfavored white baggy pants, and it might be spring, but we haven't had any warm weather. No problem for them, they put on the pals act and continue past the bus stop E. bound. About a minute before the bus is to pull in (about three minutes after they passed the first time), visible from across the intersection where it is stopped, the same two dude come bounding back, loiter long enough to ask the butt-sucker for a cigarette, but no deal, and then they proceed W. bound. I call this "sweeping" when they seem to need to send Fuckwits back and forth, often before a critical moment like boarding the bus. The dreadlock hair woman and the normal woman precede me on board, and the butt-sucker stays behind, presumably for another route. And there has been a number of these Unfavoreds (dudes, dudes in clusters especially, and white loose baggy pants very much Unfavored), who pass out of my vision and I think the Fuckwit is long gone, and then the Fuckwit makes a sudden turn, or else concocts a reason to backtrack and appear again. Yesterday's retarded cripple with the gimped walk and the hooked hand did exactly that, making an unexpected 90 degree turn to come back on me after I thought the Fuckwit was past me. The "not him/them again" reflex seems to be getting tested more often these days. Not to mention the general and highly consistent perp obsession of running the Unfavored specimens in differing directions and orientations. Anyhow, the dreadlocked freak sits behind the driver, and the normal woman sits at the back on the bench, and I sit on the other end of the bench seat. And lo, if they didn't arrange this same configuration when returning in the late afternoon, inserting a dude on the other end of the rear bench seat.

Another variation of the "not him/them again" reprise gangstalker games is to have them reverse direction when walking on the street, this version being a "threat then visible threat exit" reflex test. Again, on the way to the outbound bus stop this morning, three of them coming at me from 20' away, doing their pals act, and I was on the crosswalk on the ashphalt street surface. They were on the concrete sidewalk still, and about 6' short of the street, they somehow agree to backtrack altogether and proceed in the direction from which they came. Which has the effect (read, mind-fuck) of me evading this little charade by taking a 90 degree turn to cross the street and end up on the opposite side of the street rather than follow these Fuckwits. Like I say, even the most minimal outside activity gets this color coordinated freakshow. And a new jerkaround is to make me feel "floaty" or partially derealized as this is going on, the second such occurence when exiting the apartment building in two days. This means that my temporal lobes of my brain are being de-energized, something I learned from my ADD research days of 2000 to 2002 before the assholes turned that model on its head so to speak.

Enough of the banter about the gangstalker freakshow, arranged noise, typo sabotage ad nauseum as I attempt to get this down, and to blog off.

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