Sunday, May 15, 2011

High Disruption

A highly disrupted Sunday, a day off from farm work, and a First Feral Family dinner at the in-town brother's place later. And my perp-abetting mother adding to the Fuckover scene by playing on the rain  excuse that she claims impairs her driving, and so I am to take the city bus to go to the First Feral Family house. Regular readers will know that the city bus is nothing but a mobile gangstalk show, replete with the wierds and freaks of the Unfavored that like to present themselves to me, even if in fleeting glances.

The perps wouldn't let the laundry dry, so a second cycle in the dryer is running as I type this. A few screaming level "reactions" to provocations this morning, made busy by the sudden "need" to clean up the bathroom and kitchen floors, each with differing cleaning solutions, another all-time first. Normally they have me use Vim for both, but instead pressed on with the cleaning solutions that were stored in the respective areas. And a new box of disposable gloves might also be the perp excitement, and lo, if they didn't screw me into getting medium when it is size large I need. Somehow, they screwed me totally out of even looking at the size when acquiring the new box of disposable gloves three months ago. Another perp touch that.

And on the near-whole package toss out were the corn tortillas; a sample one blew apart at breakfast, leaking the extra runny (for today only) jam onto my fingers and on the plate, to make it look like blood, another one of their fascinations, or else the real thing. So the all-but one package of corn tortillas got tossed as they break up way too easy and are messed with to be a troublesome food item.

A short posting for this rainy day, and also with an increased amount of plasma flashes (light projections in various colors), and masers. In the latter case, the fuzzy ball types, usually paired and in formation, are bouncing in and out of my central vision, even if I look up or look at something different. The overhead pounding noise (12" of concrete and steel) has also been administered, getting through my earmuffs.

Other perp activity confluences are that they had me do a nut shave last night, and the razor got tossed too, and the garbage was put out as part of this morning's cleaning efforts. It seems the shaving disruption games are reaching a fever peak of late, though as always, they can make it worse.

And I am getting my finger tips removed of sensation as I am typing, and don't have to wonder anymore  where all those pins and needles sensations came from all these years.

Another, the third, round of attempting to dry my towels. I go to the laundry room to find them wet and warm in the dryer, about the same degree of wetness at the end of the first drying cycle (one hour). This time, I take the laundry to the seventh floor and use the dryer there as it is clear that I am getting royally jerked with over tumble drying my laundry. This isn't the first time that dryer time has been extended by dint of fuckery, but it is the worst yet.

And the in-town brother calls as I furiously writing down the details in my paper journal, and then he tells me about his flat tire problems. What was that all about?

A screaming session after showering due to lint and crumb arrivals from nowhere. Then the brown crumb flashed red colors when in peripherial vision, and that was cause for getting pissed some more. Nearly all of the bathroom has been cleaned today, and the assholes are back at it and dumping their debris on the clean surfaces. I had to take a shower to clean up and a forced shit that they made a mess of; four plungings and a shower to clean up. All to use the towel that I put there  minutes earlier, coming from the third time round tumble drying attempt, from the dryer on the 7th floor. So it seems they wanted me to step onto the just dried bath towel and use another in the same load to dry myself. Both dryers had plastic vanes in the drum, though different kinds as they were different models and makes. Such are the level of games with laundry and using it.

And soon I depart for the city bus, and no doubt is will be chock full of Fuckwits, aka gangstalkers, as they have me in this unique state of recently using a just dried towel to dry myself, a seeming "need" of theirs. There have been plenty of towel sabotage events over the years, and it seems they are utterly relentless as they are insane over finding out whatever it is that drives them.

I will post this now, while the funny pop up boxes and icons are nascent, and blog off.

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