Tuesday, June 28, 2011

Strawberry Picking

The second week of strawberry picking, and they added two new crew members. And lo, if one of wasnt' a negro, dressed like a strawberry in part, an orange red jeacket and a brown driver's cap. Nothing says GANGSTALKER more than those color combinations. And as negroes comprise of less than 3% of the population per last census, and an inordinate number of them somehow seem to find me or are placed in my proximity, I wasn't too surprised. Last year they tried a negro woman out on the crew but she didn't make it past 1000h before she begged off and was never seen again. This dude stuck beside me in the next picking row for all of the morning, my negro strawberry. He was an OK person and we chatted every now and again. So as he lasted a whole day, he might be back again, much like last year's negro on the daffodil bulb crew who made a name for himself by slamming into me on the bus on the way to the farm on his first day and then a few days later when on a crew break.

And too, they pulled a negro-babe proximity arrangement later; the boss' son's girlfriend came again to day on some kind of look and see visit, said hello from 40' away, and lo, if today's strawberry negro wasn't posing behind her. A few minutes later, he was posing in front of her. Not quite "blonde babe auric co-opting" but just babe aura proximity co-opting. Don't ask me why the perps do this, but it has been a long running stunt/prop to have the babe, especially one I know, with the Unfavored demographic group specimen. Go figure.

The strawberry negro also knew enough to piss me off by picking strawberrys from my row in his adjacent row. Other fuckers have been doing this, and so far, I haven't been allowed to voice my annoyance, especially in the tone it deserves. I fucking cannot stand this constant encroachment of others on my working space, and this same bullshit has been going on for all my agriculture jobs for three years now. Get the fuck out and leave me alone. And don't bother pounding the ceiling while I am typing this up and dealing with the infernal typo sabotage.

What is with the perps' games of closing down businesses that I am to visit, especially over alterations, both one person shops? I got into town early, at 1730h to then walk two blocks to the alterations business that has my outdoor pants that got the waist expanded, and the doorway was locked, with a sign on it saying back at 1745h. They close at 1800h, so that wasn't much of a window to find them open, but as I live only a block away, I can get there in five minutes. What is curious is that two businesses concocted this bullshit jointly, as a single doorway provides access to the stairs that takes one to either a sound studio or else the tailor/alterations shop. Both had their plywood signs out on the street, meaning they were nominally open (opening hours for both), and yet the door was locked with a "Back At..." sign on it. How utterly bizarre that both businesses would combine to be both out at the same time during normal business hours.

As this is the second time I got screwed here, arriving to find them closed, it did remind me that the last alterations shop also pulled this same fucking stunt, shutting down when they were to be open, per posted business hours. I have no idea what the perps expect to gain from this, but these juvenile business closure stunts are now all too common, since they went over/beserk on me in 2002.

I will be going to bed soon to accomodate an earlier work start time of 0700h, except if raining, so I will call this done for today.

Monday, June 27, 2011

Monday Disruptions

I see the font on this Blogspot is still sized down from before, so it seems the font size games are still important to the perps. No doubt this will serve to create excuses for more errors and cause me to lift my back off the seatback to see what I typed in this heavy typo sabotage they routinelyh put me through when blogging.

A Monday today, with a stayover at the First Feral Family house after farm work yesterday. And another visitation by a local deer to the  backyard of the FFF house, it chewing up hostas, potatoes, tomato plants, and a few more. Last Monday I spent three hours making a fenced pen around some of the vegetable garden to prevent any more deer incursions of the runner beans. It seems the deer had a knack for arriving in the daytime when my mother was out and also the wind had lifted the cover cloth off the plants she was hoping to prevent from the browsing ungulate. Funny how that happens, the perp abettor making out that it was a random fluke event when they know better.

So today, it was back to Home Depot to get stiffer fence wire, one better than the chicken wire of last time. And regular readers will know that the perps just love to have wire mesh placed around the TI's (and abetting family) locations. The usual flock of baggy shorts wearing males was in place there, along with their ballcaps, large guts, waddling walk and tattoos. And two do-rag dudes, one popping out from behind a parked vehicle while in transit, and another posted at the fasteners section where I was looking for fencing staples and twine. And I had my dude entourage tail me out of the store, and lo, if they were going to the next parked vehicle beside the one I was driving. They even put a tractor-trailer in front of the entrance as we arrived by vehicle, at least a 40' trailer, maybe longer, and it stopped along the pedestrian walkway to the store entrance, and was gone by the time we were parked.

And so an hour working inside a cedar and Douglas-fir hedge to get the fence wire in place to stop the deer bypassing the gate. And too, the perps just love to have me pass under foliage, be it landscaped trees or even forest. Time without fail, when I did trail hiking in a forest land park to mid-2006, a Fuckwit would be place at open areas just as I had arrived into these non-treed rocky patches. And they even put "stand theres" under landscaped trees next to thoroughfares that I walk along, looking totally stupid while having no apparent purpose except to be under the edge of the tree canopy. And too, the color of the leaves is important, those phyto-colorants (and phytochemicals) in the leaves seeming to be very important for the perp research agenda as much as it is the metered salad portions I am allowed. After over a month with no salads, the perp allowed me to purchase it four days ago and then made it too totten to eat one day before the expiry date. I got two salads when I should of got at least four, a local grower no less. Though, I did wonder why my mother left the spinach out all of last night in a wire mesh colander over the sink when it should of been in the fridge and was plain obvious.

And so after being served salad, an orange colored squash soup with ginger in it, and some turkey deli meat for lunch I took my overnight bag and backpack onto the bus, and lo, within one stop some 20 middle school kids "happened" to be at the bus stop and boarded the bus. I moved my seat to keep my overnight bag under the seat instead of being walked on, and so for the bus ride, I had these folks packed all around me and of course their chatter. They even put on a curly fuzz headed negro kid in in this kid-surge, and lo, if the perps didn't keep directing my attention to see him when it was totally pointless for me to look in his direction. When I got up to go one of the kids said they were getting off at the same stop, so I declined to push my way through them. And lo, when the bus stopped, why, they didn't get off and I was stuck behind them pushing to get off. The rear door closed, but they all chimed in to tell the driver to keep the back door open for me. My own cheering section for getting off the bus, and better than the freak show I usually get there.

This from Targethaven, and a familiar story to all TI's.

TI friendly companies

Is there such thing as TI friendly companies?
Companies where a Targeted Individual may work and is not likely to be harassed and intimidated on the job by any one in that company.
The last company I worked for was xyz. The boss xxx  would on several occasions calculate loud coughing and/or sneezing to my face and into my ear. I remember one time I was to reply to a safety questionaire on his laptop and just when I was about 2 feet from him he lets out this loud sneeze. Another time he got one of his workers to call me into the next room and just as I open the door to approach him he lets out a real loud sneeze then starts fanning it towards me with his hands. One time he had a contract at the Veterans Administration offices and both he and most of the workers on that job would constantly walk in close proximity to me then let out some kind of loud intimidating noise. Almost everyone I happened to walk past would make some intimidating noise at the exact point of closest proximity to them. While I was working on that job most of the people in the room would make intimidating sounds synchronized with something I was doing.
And the answer is NO; there are no TI friendly companies, and when they want the management to turn on the TI and fuck them out of a job, they will do it, probably because they don't have a choice. (Or else they are a perp managed firm).  Though to be fair, I never experienced this degree of overt targetting when I was employed for real in the pre-overt harassment days.

Other distruption games were to have me get skunked on returning an item to the outdoor co-op. These spandex shorts came with a non-spandex waist, making them perfectly useless for fitting to size. Never have I seen anything so fucking stupid in garment manufacture, but one can be sure that will be outdone by someone somewhere.

Then they pulled a rain before I set off on my errands, having me use my blue Blunt umbrella, which seems to be a huge deal. For the last six months they screwed me out of using the umbrella, either by having me "forget" it at the FFF house, or stopping the rain that was imminent, not looking outside to determine need, or some such dodge to ensure I took the umbrella but did not deploy it. So... today, I got to look out and see it was raining, get the umbrella, and use it. Sounds normal/simple doesn't it? But not when the hounds of hell are on your ass every last microsecond, and for them, walking under an umbrellas is a big deal, possibly because it changes one's color-energetic signature. And lo, if there wasn't a dude surge of Fuckwits downtown, almost 8 to 1, M:F ratio. They strung them 7 wide at the intersection of Fort and Douglas streets on my way to the bank to get rolls of change from my account for the laundry machines in this apartment building. A prior stop at the opticians to get a refill of lens cleaning solution put me in contact with the sublime minx there, (who knew me by name even, a rare event), and then onto the bank where I got an oversized middle-aged woman cashier. All manner of stunts and silliness abounded, from Darth Vader dressed street violinists to the mid-sidewalk obstructors to the wackos in their fedoras that were abounding. It was more like Christmas-time crowds, and here it was raining on a Monday afternoon in late June.

A third tanning session tonight, with more "arrivals" behind me getting served first. At least two were mid-brown skinned so WTF? Then a skinheaded negro male was posing outside, as seen through the storefront glass, next to the light metallic tan brown vehicle. Said vehicle became a minor hub for three more gangstalkers outside, approaching it as if they were to enter it, spaced out over 10 minutes or so. (I was kept in the waiting area for longer this visit).  It was the first time I put on SPF 60 Ombrelle, and it was on my face due to this vanity streak that has been imposed, that is, to avoid an even toned face, a hallmark of tanning equipment they tell me. So..., in keeping with the ongoing sunlight/UV/vitamin D and the rest of the entire complex of body-sunlight interactions of intense perp interest, I did another round of getting "lit up" in the tanning booth, their seeming choice in how I go about it. No police event outside this time, but hordes of wandering folks out, still heavy on the male ponytails and vagrants.

The overhead stereo music pounding started up exactly when applying the SPF 60 Ombrelle to my face, 30 minutes before the tanning session. For once I get to do it right and get it applied well before, unlike at the farm work job. And when I came back, another round of the same pounding noise. And just now, as I recount this, a third round of pounding music noise that is somehow getting through my hearing protection that I nearly always wear at this desk.

Oh yes, the copper colored vehicles that are selectively inserted among or after hordes of white, silver-grey and other greyscale colored vehicles has worked iteself into a new theme/material. At Home Depot today, they had stacks of copper colored garden hose for crissakes, all for the masses to water their gardens with this color of hose after the many variations of green hoses they have pushed on the FFF. Currently, it is the insipid pastel green hose at the FFF, two short hoses of differing diameters (naturally), and also a soaker hose with a green stripe on the black hose material. And I see they broke the FFF  black soaker hose again, after fixing it with supplies from a irrigations specialist last year. He did a sales promo on this brown colored dripline to accomplish home watering, so I am sure the perps are still working on the follow-on effects of water as supplied to various plants, edible and not, and how these affect the energetics of the persons eating foods from these various water delivery systems. My mother declined to purchase the dripline system, so for now, the perps have her with the pastel green hose. And lo, if she isn't wearing these god-awful pastel green pants, this weekend and last. Go figure, because I cannot (save the rile me objective).

I am sure there is much more I can relate, but for now I am getting blocked as to what I to write about. So, I shall blog off and call this one done for today. Hopefully I won't get the Monday night sleepless treatment like I usually get, and one can be sure that I won't suffer any from sleep loss the next day. Unless of course the perps decide to change that dynamic and wipe me out Tuesday afternoon. We start strawberry picking an hour earlier now, at 0700h, so it will be a long day. Not to mention all those red colored vehicles swarming around me aferwards.

Friday, June 24, 2011

Rained Out and Off Early

I have no idea how many readers accept the premise that weather events are coordinated to change up the circumstances, and that some, in appropriate measures, distribution etc., aid the gangstalking and harassment activity, aka nonconsensual human experimentation of me. And so it was thus that an unsual rain squall set up at 1500h while we were hoeing weeds in one of the pumpkin patches. Now, 1500h is our regular afternoon break time, and so it was at least mighty suspicious that this "happened" then. Prior to that, we had been picking strawberries since mid-morning, and had been weeding for about half an hour. So... on the first work day after the first tanning salon visit in 8 years, they shortened down the day by two hours, and of course, the pay. The perps seem to be on sunlight, light source, Vitamin D and immune system research agenda as one of many of their objectives in this senseless abuse. As reported yesterday, I am suddenly needing (read perps mind-fuck planted notion) to get tanned again, and have been using my tan-through shirt over the past three weeks. The now shaved legs will also be getting a more direct sunlight exposure and not have the intervening hairs to reflect the light and interfere with light exposure. So it seems this phase of the abuse/harassment agenda is getting extra attention, more than just sunblock and tan=through shirts. And as I will be totally unlikely to get the clothing-free lake in this town during week days (impossible on weekends), the nearby tanning salon is the place to get a 5 minute accelerated tan.

And today, they arranged a "police incident" on the street outside the tanning salon for when I exited, the blue and red flashing lights, two police vehicles in mid-road forcing other traffic around them, and a pickup truck parked in the parking lot's driveway. And lo, after passing this by (100') or so, if the perps didn't remind me that I forgot my tanning booth goggles at the salon, and had to go back, and then had to re-walk the police incident, all to see the ununiformed policeman in baggy brown shorts sporting a holster with his gun in it. The perps like to have me see guns and weapons, though I have no particular interest or known traumatization associations. Longtime readers will recall that in the days of 2002 to 2003, the most disruptive and intensely abusive ones, they arranged for three gunpoint "takedowns",- (read scripted events, as they went on to continue their harassment for nine years and counting so they aren't going to truly endanger this valuable asset called me). Two takedowns by the Saanich Police and another by the US Border Patrol "because" I wanted to clean up my apartment in Seattle. One big string of arranged bullshit that I expect to attain justice by having a real one take place for all the assholes who had a hand it this insane fuckery. And given my predilection for respecting perps, the outcome wont' be so certain if I get to be involved.

Other wacko bullshit in the farm fields today, with the Punjabis being even less forthcoming as to what we do next, and then getting in a stinking rage over us getting confused over to where to meet and what to do as there is just so much FUD going on, now escalated. Said enraged Punjabi supervisor was directing her venom at my colleague who is also short on tolerance of late, though no major reaction. One or the other seems to get set off but so far not both together thankfully. But as my colleague has four more days to work to the end of the month, hopefully cooler heads will prevail. I don't know where this one is going, but the saving grace is that the Punjabis don't know much English, because if they did, the narky comments from my colleague would beget substantially more explosive reactions. For the most part, although I was culpable in this arranged confusion event, the supervisor doesn't round on me. Sometimes I suspect that the perps like to arrange proxies, whereby someone else gets reamed out in my presence, often on a related item, though I am not culpable. And of course, I get the odd rebuke, and they even get silly about it.

This morning, the Punjabis somehow decided to start at 0700h without telling anyone but the farmer, and they were picking potatoes by hand after the machine had tossed them up. I arrive at 0740h, and start into the job, having done it last year. And before long they are on me to put the flailed potato plants somewhere else, as they cannot be put over top of an area that hasn't been first picked. So... I put the flailed plants on the edge of this row of machine picked potatoes, but then I get chastised for this as they want the edge clear (like for what?). My above mentioned colleague arrives some minutes later and also gets rebuked for placing the flailed potato plants in the wrong place. Funny how that "happens".

But as this was the first potato picking for 2011, I had plenty of other pickers all over me, around me, standing over me, incursions on where I was picking and all the rest of the personal space disruptions that I have come to know and loathe. The above mentioned colleague was particularly annoying in this respect, and driving me with annoyance by picking potatos where I was about to. This same insane bullshit went on last year and I cannot fucking take it any more.

And it seemed the early trip on the city bus freakshow was a big deal, as no end of color arranged vehicles were out when I got a 5 min. ride to the bus stop, and they even put on a white unmarked tour bus exiting a very busy suburban parking lot, one so tight I don't know how they got it in there. And lo, if tonight, on my way to the tanning salon, the identical white tour bus is parked outside on the street, taking up at least three street parking stalls. Only in this town is street parking for passenger vehicles subsumed by larger haul tractor units and tour buses.

More musical chair games on the city bus when inbound this afternoon. The two rearmost corner seats were duly occupied, where I usually sit, so it was to be a transverse seat in front of them. (Ditto for this morning when outbound). And ast it "happened" one of the occupants was a lounging negro dude in a red drivers cap and matching red shoes. And lo, five minutes later another negro male arrives and sits opposite to me, the negro dudes not talking to each other at all. Eventually the red capped negro departs the bus, and the second negro takes the seat he had. This "tag teaming", especially of negroes was going on last year, and it seems the perps are returning to their infantile stunts all to put negroes on display in my proximity. Last year it was feigning insadvertance; the outgoing negro had vacated his seat to wait at the exit door and the inbound negro took the former negro'es seat without knowing he had been sitting there. The perps like to disect and decompose every juxtapositon, deed, and thought to infinite variations it seems.

There was plenty of blog-worthy fodder/freaks on the bus today, but I am getting memory block as to what they all were. I am going to call this one done and blog-off.

Thursday, June 23, 2011

Tanning in the Salon

 A confluence of events to keep me hopping this evening though I didn't work late and was able to get the laundry done. Another day in the fields, first weeding pumpkins, then picking strawberries and then weeding them with a sickle for the bigger weeds and the thistles which prevent one from looking through the foliage for berries. It was "only" a 8 hour day when the Punjabis like to go 9 hours or more, but they all have vehicles to drive themselves home, but I take the city bus freakshow which adds extra time onto the commute.

And it was a freakshow, building up with dudes around me, the twitchy skinheaded Fuckwit in front of me kept moving about.

A salon tanning session tonight, a whole five minutes in the stand up booth. Plenty of gangstalker coverage on me afterward on the street. Just imagine, here is me complaining about all the headlights, streetlights and reflections trained on me in the daytime when outside, and here I "volunteer" to get lit up in a tanning booth. But the tanning/Vitamin D research is a big part of the perp agenda, and they are finally allowing this activity now, apart from direct tanning from sunlight. Back in the helter-skelter abuse days of 2002, they hit me with some obscene head pain irradiation in the tanning booth, and I could thwart it some by moving around. No doubt that was all planned, and eventually tanning became such a hassle it wasn't worth it. Then they closed tanning salons in the daytime when they should of been open. The next phase in 2003 and 2004 was to have me at the clothing optional beach, sometimes with friends of the day (ones who all later never called back), or sometimes alone. That suddenly stopped then, and I haven't been back since, though it became more problematic when I had to give up my vehicle in mid-2006.

More FUD on the job in the last two days, and other strange supporting behaviors from the rest of the crew. Pulling the weeding hoes out of the van and then said van arrives first and we don't have any hoes to start with. A ten minute lull in the work activity, and it seemed to be important for the perps to arrange to have the hoes arrive later, especially since they had the road down to one lane as they were intalling a new power pole nearby.

Other FUD moments were to have me pick strawberries in the one remaining row, and everyone else getting themselves ready to go weeding. Then I get called back to do the same. Like WTF; why cannot they give me instructions in the first place? Then an Asian member of the crew was doing his sentry duty at lunch time, just standing there while I was approaching with a berry carrier with 8 pint boxes in it. The ever changeable wind blew some boxes out of the carrier, which I did not hear (most odd), and the Asian sentry worker just kept looking at me, and didn't say anything about the pint boxes falling out of the pint box carrier. Talk about useless co-workers, and somehow I keep managing to find them.

The one Mexican we had on the crew flew out today as there was a personal emergency in his home country. Yesterday it seemed he was totally out of it, wandering into my row or strawberries, coming over from his row which he left unpicked. Others were pulling this same bullshit today as well, pissing me off as why cannot they stick with their own row? This constant need to get in front of me , or behind me, or where I was sitting or standing almost immediately after me is getting out of hand. One of the Punjabi men was dogging me in the next row, staying with me when ordinarily he is a faster picker. (A moot point as I have found him to miss many berries down low). But this time he was sticking with me for at least five minutes, and then was standing over me, something I cannot fucking stand, and which the perps know and like to harass me with. So.. I stand up to move and I seem him in some kind of zombie state, mindlessly scuffing his foot for some bizarre reason and withnin a second of me vacating my location to walk up the row, he steps across my row and heads elsewhere. Like WTF; here he is to be picking, and yet unilaterallhy takes off so he can cross behind me in the shortest vacated time possible.

This was the same Punjabi who arrived with the crew van with this fugly throbbing muffler noise someone gave it back last year. Somehow, the van and him arrived noiselessly as I never pass this noise off to being a background noise as it is so annoying. So either someone nullified by hearing while it arrived, or else it teleported in. And of interest, the rest of the two Punjabis took turns to drive this same van to the top of the field, relocate their personal vehicles 60' or so, and then drive back down. A totally needless activity in the middle of strawberry picking. My only English speaking colleague/gangstalker was at a loss to explain why they were doing this and was obviously vague in explaining how the Throbbing Muffler Van arrived without making a sound. Case closed; when they go vague it means something.

And a keyboard sieze-up stopped blogging in its tracks last night, the perps only letting me in on the root cause of the problem at the last moment possible. That ended last night's blogging, hence this later post that is covering most of today, June 23, 2011.

I am still tired from today's labor in the farm fields, so I will call this one done and blog off.

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

In the Reds

Strawberry picking begun today after some two hours of packing garbage into dumpsters and hosing down plywood picking bins. The Mexican I was working with seemed to be guided by some kind of detailed instructions as he knew what the job was even if no one told him.

Then a strange before day-end wrap-up to the strawberry picking with everyone turning around at the same time and heading back and not saying anything to me, a 100' downhill. And there were still berries to pick but no one seemed too fussed. Another one of those "herd moments" when every one else marches to the beat of a strange drummer. Then the boss' gorgeous live-in girlfried came with him when we wrapped up the picking, and per seating arrangement I got to sit next to her in the front seat. All part of the show I suppose, have the odd babe arrive after a day with the rabble (us pickers), and have me sit next to her and her sumptuous legs below her skirt in the two minute truck ride back to the farm warehouse. She has a corporate job, so what took her in her nice city clothes to a dusty farm field at 1600h is beyond me, save a perp orchestrated "victim tour".

And a suck-in to work to 1730h when it is the recipie for not getting much done in the evenings. When I got the bus it was about 1750h, #6 S. bound to downtown, and lo, if there wasn't at least 20 Fuckwits on board. I eventually got a seat facing forward instead of the transverse ones for the handicapped, and it had a blonde woman immediately in front of me. Then 5' in front of her was a transverse seat behind the front wheel well, and the perps soon put on a Phillipino woman and her daughter. The latter did "pop out" duty to ensure she was seen past the blonde woman's head, and eventually they got off after a few minutes. Then another blonde arrived to sit next to the blonde immedieately in front of me. And lo, if they didn't bring on a negro woman (very Unfavored) to sit where the Phillipinos (Unfavored) had sat, upping the brown skin ante and partaking of whatever "blonde auric goodness" there is that the perps seem to need to leverage from, a skit/stunt that has played out hundreds of times now.

And when I got off the bus a pregnant woman got off ahead of me, then a male, and as it was a one way street it is easier to jaywalk across. This was after the two deep metallic red vehicles had passed by, an very common gangstalk color of late. And when I was crossing in mid-street, a female herd was hot on my tail. These were the two blondes on the bus, plus at least two others, and in the middle of this sordid pack was the infernal negro woman. Talk about a set-up, and how could that many agree to jaywalk together in tight formation, and at least one of them doing the gangstalker standard high armswing walk. This ludicrous quasi military arm swing erupted in this town in 2003 and hasn't let up. Anyhow, the female herd with the embedded negro woman was on my tail for at least 100' before I turned the corner to find a carmine redcoated Fuckwit ahead of me. And do I loathe carmine red more than  any other? You bet, and then know it.

Other Unfavored scum themes on the bus and the street were Fat People, still a big deal for the perps to be attempting to elicit abreactions to this grotesque human state, no doubt of long term strategic interest to the perps give the level of obesity in N. America. This is also known as the "gut strut", these 250+lb blubber-stalkers who populate my viewscape much more than their demographic percentile suggests. The bald males are still going strong as another Unfavored gangstalker theme, and are even going out shirtless for crissakes.

Another dude cluster on the outbound bus this morning, though 10' away instead of every availible seat around me a few days ago, having 8 of the Fuckwits pretending that this wasn't an organized scam. Since when did all these dudes take the bus at 0700h, even on a Sunday? For the 8 dude cluster around me they inserted a blonde woman immediately in front of me as some kind of blonde auric goodness leverage, though it didn't help that she wore the present trending military scout hats that are the rage in this town, one step removed from the ubiquitous ball caps on the males with these ridiculous baggy shorts that go past their knees.

A near sleepless night last night, in keeping with the perps screwing me ou of sleep on Monday nights after my return from the First Feral Family house. It seems they need to extend wakeful conditions, something they sure to let me know back in the early days of this abusive insanity they have inflicted upon me.

Anyhow, a day in the sun and I am wiped out enough to call this one done and to blog off for the day.

Monday, June 20, 2011

Post First Feral Family Monday

A Monday day-off from farm labor, staying at the First Feral Family house last night and doing driving duties for my perp abetting mother and then backyard maintenance work as the deer pillaged the vegetable garden plot. So... back to wrangling with galvanized chicken wire again, finishing up the roll that was purchased in 11-2010. And not forgetting  that it was first used  then to assemble four round cages to stop the deer from stripping the Ocean Spray plants to bare sticks. And too, the perps pulled a snow storm that day to force me to make up these chicken wire cages inside, and then test them out on each plant in turn in the snow. It was that important to them that I putz with the chicken wire inside the basement utility room instead of outside, and to have the property covered in snow at the same time. Go figure.

But there must a some EMF spikes coming off of the chicken wire as I bend each wire end  and flex the zinc coating and the steel base wire underneath. As usual, the aerial noise started up, the STRATCOM B-52's, local float planes and a few others. Then the hot rod and other loud muffler noise also came on, and even the neighbor across the street added his pointless diesel truck idling into the energetic mix while wrangling with the chicken wire for a few hours. My perp abetting mother was also there, "helping" of course, wearing the fugliest pastel green pants she could find.

Said pants were also worn this morning when I drove her to Sears to look a sofa-beds, and then suffer the odious cologne of the salesman and his shiny bald head at close range. And while waiting for him to demonstrate what was availible in his information system, (ancient monocolor green CRT), the perps then passed the skankiest dude past me four times, with the fucker stopping twice in close proximity for no seeming reason. He was walking a 100' long hallway, and had a braided pigtail for crissakes, like something from the Ozarks. A few other large gutted male staff members also perambulated some 40 to 60' away, but having this skanky Fuckwit was most un-Sears like.

And heavy on the red vehicles today, some in ahead, some coming past in the opposite lane, then likewise in the crossing direction at intersections, and adding in red hats on perambulating gangstalkers too. The Sears' entrance was worse as they had a 20' long display of garden furniture outside, and then blended in red vehicles nearby to add more to the visual red barrage. Never mind that Staples was 60' away with a deep red marque as well. I was glad to get out of there and thankful I wasn't dealing with Canadian Tire and their redshirt staff, another visual anathema.

Then to Home Depot, and a clusterfuck of red vehicles to get through to park, and then get blanked on getting a face mask and again on getting fence wire to add more protection to keep the deer out. I don't know quite why the perps want to skunk me all the time, either having the store out of stock or else having, this time at least, my mother talking me out of getting the safety gear to run a grinder.

The is the eve of the Summer Solstice, and like some TI's, I often find there is some extra perp silliness organized.Though, apart from the Monday nonsense, I cannot say there has been anything too outrageous today; they even backed off on the freak count on the city bus trip I made into downtown. On the L. side transverse seats in the rear raised deck area they put on a succession of Fat People, rotating them out after a few minutes to have another Fat Freak in the same seating row. For some reason the perps like to test my digust of Fat People all along the bus route, and seemed to need variability rather than a single specimen from this Unfavored demographic group.

I also got the beer breath smells from he dude two seats next to me, who for some reason needed to stare at me before he sat down. Both he and the Asian got on at the same bus stop and one followed the other to have one immediately in front and the beer breath Fuckwit two seats next to me in the L. rear bench seat. The Asian did his back-to-me thing, twisting in his seat and leaning forward when he would of been looking out the side if he sat in his seat like a normal person. But as I get this back-to-me seated Fuckwits all the time when in the rear bench seat, I am not too surprised. I was stiffed with my pack and my carry bag, otherwise I would of got off and walked, as I am so fucking fed up with these assholes parading their backs at me on the city bus freakshow. One time they put an obvious red plasma flash on the back of a white shirted Fuckwit who was seated in front of me as he was doing a lean-over instead of twisting his back like today's Fuckwit.

And I suppose the two dudes in serial file, surrounding me in short order is part of the perp testing me over the related fuckery of having dudes three or more abreast coming at me on the sidewalks. It seems the perps know I have some kind of abreaction to this behavior and want to learn how I acquired it. all to learn how to nullify it. Never mind that it was created at some kind of abuse camp of MKULTRA days and that they purged my recall of nearly all things aged 2 to 5. Somehow, those subconscious traumatizations are still there and the Fuckwits are bound and determined to purge the (unintended?) consequences of their past abuses. Having a number of adult males closing in on me must be one such memory they are emulating to get abreactions, my new word I was allowed to learn recently. To save you looking it up:

    1. release of emotional tension achieved through recalling a repressed traumatic experience.
    2. the expression and emotional discharge of unconscious material (as a repressed idea or emotion) by verbalization especially in the presence of a therapist
    3. the release and expression of emotional tension associated with repressed ideas by bringing those ideas into consciousness

Another featured noise this afternoon, while fighting with the chicken wire to make a ersatz gate, was the 1950-60's style of sirens. At least three cascades of this particular rarified (except for me) siren noise came on over a half hour in the suburbia of Gordon Head, part of the Municipality of Saanich, aka the Greater Victoria region. Like WTF? What would the emergencies be in this region and why did all three of them have this retro siren noise, one that seems to be coming more frequent of late. More abreactions maybe? Which then calls into question as to how "they", the police forces of North America, come to all decide on which siren noise to use, and why are they largely the same? Except in this town, where they have decided to go with the retro siren noise from time to time. Bizarre.

Enough of the palaver, and I am getting rage-fied with forced typos, and have an eruption of clunking noise that is somehow getting through my earmuffs. Funny, I forgot to get a better pair today when at Home Depot and looking at their safety equipment.

Saturday, June 18, 2011

Putzing In Limbo

1750h, Saturday

The sirens have just started as I have begun this posting after the prior one had a sudden "problem" of the backspace and the Enter keys not working, rendering the edit function (blog writing) undoable. Funny how going to a new posting changed that.

And I was to hear yesterday about getting a vineyard job but that was for naught. As this was a five-candidates-at-once interview, I was able to evaluate the competion/potential co-workers, and suffice to say, I had plenty more experience in farm labor work. Obviously, it was all about making a day trip on the ferry to an island, visiting the vineyard and hanging with four other potential co-workers for the afternoon (all decent folk) until the ferry returned. I cannot concieve of any reason not to hire me (or any of the others), so all I can assume is that the junket was a total perp fix, and intended to be one day outing. All to come back to the daily grind of weeding with a hoe on the farm I currently work at. Vineyard work seemed a whole lot easier than fruit picking and hoe-ing, and yet I never got an offer. But as the last three years have been spent picking strawberries and raspberries (red fruit followed by red vehicular gangstalking on the way home each evening), then daffodil bulbs later in the summer, so why should I expect anything different? That was the outlook I had as to my work prospects when wanting to put the cachet of "vineyard worker" on my resume, but such is not allowed by the tormentors and abusers running my existence.

Sure, I had some things that I planned to get in advance of the job, and interestly, my daughter came over Friday night to evaluate her exchange options as to the gift I had given her two weeks earlier. And it seemed to be the biggest deal for the perps to have my daughter cruise with me through the outdoor store (after she made her selection), and past a couple of displays of items I intended to get in advance of the vineyard job. But as I hadn't heard anything, I didn't purchase anything related to getting the vineyard job. All the perps wanted me to do was to look at these items for real that I had previously scouted online at the same store. I am sure that was all what it was about.

And too, they put on an old-time IT nemesis gangstalker named JE for now, retired. He was an IBM main-frame type, and actively sabotaged every effort to get workstations and capable software unless they were the pathetic PC's of the day, and also aligning himself with Microsoft and Windows back to 1990. Here was the guy who singlehandedly stymied GIS in the Ministry of Natural Resources for over 10 years and still managed to keep his job. Anyhow, he dogged me at least four times while I was in the store while I was with my daughter, and was acting like a crack addict, scooting around and obviously pretending to shop, looking at items for a second or two before leading ahead through the store. Interesting, if not amusing, to see such a formal, reserved and cautious person now behaving totally differently in a  semi-frantic search for nothing in particular. And of related interest, we were in the same building that housed part of his IT organization in the day (for 9 years when I was there), now converted to a retail outdoor store/co-op. His office was in an adjacent building that was newer, but the two were connected by an enclosed skywalk then. I encountered JE in the work world as part of databse development commitee I headed. And of course he didn't deign to say hello or anything like that. Nossir, don't talk to the victim, just carry on acting like a fucking idiot.

When my daughter and I went to the cashier to exchange the GPS watches, it was a blazing redheaded dude who was on as cashier. As I don't care for redheads, and get frequently gangstalked with them with a prior build-up of similar hair colors, it was not too much of a surprise to have this "test case" redhead in front of us both. Ditto when with my mother, they will put on the fugliest Unfavored Fuckwits doing the most bizarre things, all for comparative purposes. If I cannot stand the sight of redheads, I don't see why this is an international Fuckover life-trashing event that should be going on for nine years and still continuting. Not my problem so why am being hounded by all these fucking freaks?

A rain-out day as far a farm work goes; I got up at 0530h and called the farmer at 0700h and he said to cancel work today. I was online at 1000h or so when the sleepies struck (perp applied), and went down for a nap at that time, absurd as it was in normal habit. They had me sleep for three hours for crissakes, a whacking mid-day sleep when I had no reason or sleep deficit to make up.

And three days in succession of sunny weather ended overnight, so I can assume that this was important to the perps for whatever reason as the asshole do love to fuck with sunlight exposure, and this year they seem to want me to get tanned in discrete quantities and bounded durations. Hence the leg shaving they now put me through each evening; I suddenly get restless about 2100h in the evening, log off, and might read a book for 10 minutes when I suddenly get restless again. Then I put a few things away, and the need to run a bath come on, and so the leg shaving follows. Most strange behavour and not of my making.

Back in the pre-overt/beserk days of 2000 to 2001 they had me visiting tanning booths for short durations and then life circumstances would have me stop for a while, to restart some months later. They were still after me in 2003 and 2004 at the naturist beach, having a new lack of inhibitions as I never did this before. Then all that stopped after that, and while I got some sun in the prior three years of farm work, this is the year they seem to want me to get much more, including my legs. And too, the "need" to visit a tanning salon to get a base tan on my very white shaved legs has started up in the last week, so no doubt that will be "happening" in the next while. All part of the browning around games it would seem. I get many more brown dressed gangstalkers now, especially among the males who are even going two-tone brown; e.g. a chocolate brown hoodie with peanut butter brown pants for crissakes, just to look totally stupid if nothing else.

Another big perp moment this afternoon was to have me vistit the alterations tailor, she of Russian origin as I came to know. I got screwed when she changed her opening hours unannounced, visiting there on my Monday day off and finding her shop closed, though now open on Saturdays when she wasn't before. Funny, I had asked about her shop hours some two months ago and she didn't say anything about changing her hours. My pants had been in her shop for new knee patches, and it "tuned out" to be the same shiney rip-stop material she used for my other pants to repair the seat that had mysteriously worn out. I suppose the perps want me to have this signature fabric on both pairs of my work pants, so this nonsense was inflicted upon me. And today, this pair was tight, owing to strange cut that had the ideal leg length, so I opted to have the waist expanded. She, in performance of her tailor duties got to tug at the pants when I had them on, as well as demonstrate with her fingers where the waist section was going to go and how long the insert will be. And also, the measuring tape around the waist to make sure the correct size was being attained. All these pokings and proddings by another person I don't really know is prime perp material, as they constantly try to get Fuckwits in my path and way too close, especially in the checkout lines.

On the way to the tailor's, I am standing at the corner waiting for the traffic control, and this woman comes along from my R. and plants herself 2' beside me when there was plenty of extra room. The instant I detect his personal space invasion a noise from the vehicular traffic sounds off. So it seems that the perps are still working on my personal space detection/violation boundaries, and I have recounted many past gangstalking stunts to do the same.

A run to the LD store to get Rx, and getting the extra stare from the plain Rx tech. I always had wondered why I get so many store staff plainly ignoring me in the long past, and was reminded of it tonight; it was orchestrated for more "dwell time:, a seeming vital ingredient to the perps' onging abuse/study campaign. Then three Fuckwits on me at the Milka chocolate section, two on sentry duty and one passing behind me at the aisle constriction just there. Two more were on my ass before I got out of the end of the aisle, one doing this bizarre routine. She stopped at the aisle end facing me 7' away, held her arm up with an item in hand, looked sideways for two seconds, pulled her arm down, and then proceeded to walk toward me. Utterly fucking bizarre, and totally consistent with past fuckery, though a first for the Heil Hitler salute with an item in hand.

And lo, if the Fuckwits ahead of me in the checkout didn't leave two bars of chocolate, different from the ones I was purchasing, on the checkout counter top and the cashier didn't remove them. Last time when purchasing lavender colored packaged Milka bars they had me with an item that had some lavender color on its packaging (toilet paper) and the person behind me had a similarly colored packaged item, though different product. And after purchasing Milka bars, I sometimes get lavender dressed Fuckwits on the street gangstalking me.

Amother vehicular run-down attempt when I was walking back, making the left hand turn and coming directly at me, and didn't stop when I became very agitated, looking at the asshole woman in this black monster truck. Obviously they were attempting to emulate something with the big truck. Having a blonde in this military style ballcap seems to be all the rage of late, she being the driver. Yesterday on the 0715h #6 bus they were building up the number of dudes around me and put a blonde woman with a military style ballcap immediately in front of me. She was there for five minutes to be later replaced by the Monster Dude, this disgusting 300lb Fuckwit that needs two seats, and is a gangstalk regular on the second to last bus stop before I get off. They had 8 dudes packed around me when I was fully gangstalked on the city bus, a new record for plain obvious "dude stalking". How so many dudes end up doing a reverse commute on the bus at that time is beyond me, and a steady increase as well. All those nut and leg shaves in the prior evening must be the big attraction. Who knew that nut shaving was a greater pathway to getting gangstalked by sick assholes too timorous to declare themselves and their covert agenda? And who have billions of dollars, limitless resources, and here they are still putzing away nine years later after outing themselves as an adversary every second of my existence.

And I see the Vancouver (not far from here) Stanley Cup riots were out of control, the police caught with their pants down and then get to stand around to watch vehicles burn up. Justl ike the Toronto riots of last year, and maybe straight out of the perp playbook, as they like a good fire, not to mention the unusual juxtapositions of persons on the street, especially having them run around or lying down kissing. Having the marathon pass through the city wasn't enough it seems.

Overhead stereo music pounding/pulsing is getting through my earmuffs as I write this. There have been at least five such like noise events today, this one coming on the heels of reading about Dr. Colin Ross' discoveries of who is connected to who in the mind control research world, that restarted with avengence after WWII. He claims there is no master plan of the excesses of the CIA, military authorities and even the JFK killers, though I would respectively disagree, being the brunt of much of their doings.

And they are even sending the tour buses around now, going by the noise from outside. Onto other evening events and seeing out my mysteriously scuffed eyeglasses.

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Vietnamese Fellini Moment

I don't get my nails done anywhere, but I have a R big toenail (the brown one in a blog posting photo) that somehow got ripped across in mid-nail, and cannot be removed for any pain it may cause. And given the extra-conventional gravitic fuckery that goes on, said toenail somehow manages to hang up on pants and socks when putting them on or taking them off. And before I go to my haircut I stop in at a nail place and ask if they can deal with it. Much Vietnamese chatter back and forth and then the male manager comes over and says he can fit me in at 1600h. I say that is fine. And my red hatted negro gangstalker with his tongue hanging out was now on my same right side loafing around in mid-sidewalk, when I had passed him at his vehicle, on my right side again.

I come back then, and two nail technicians are sitting around doing nothing, and a third, one whom I talked to when making the arrangements was standing over the guy who was working on the only customer, back to me. One of the first two nail techs comes and says I have to come back later, and I say I am returning per arrangement with the manager. She does some more Vietnamese banter and then sits down. None of the nail techs or the male manager do anything, and pretend I am not there. I hang there for another minute to take in the most fucking rude customer interaction I have ever seen, and then leave without any further ado. Like WTF; I had an immediate problem, and there were three nail techs doing utterly nothing, and this on the eve of the Stanley Cup Final game tonight, starting at 1700h, so they aren't going to get a rush of customers. I didn't get an answer to my statement that I had returned, just this bizarre blow-off as if I wasn't there. I once read that the Vietnamese were the rudest wave immigrants they ever had in NYC, but of course I wasn't allowed access to my own knowlledge at the time to put this bizarre event into its true perspective. So, this is what I consider a "Fellini moment", unintelligible or unusual juxtapositions of perverse behavior, objects or events. You can be sure that I am not going there again, and will likely put some masking tape on my toenail to keep it together.

Other nonsense that erupted today was a heavy downpour at 1225h, five minutes before lunch and it kept us from returning to hoe the pumpkins. The farmer said to go home, and so we did. I got a ride to the bus stop and missed one bus, but the next one came two minutes earlier than scheduled. One Fuckwit in each of the back corners told me that they didn't want me sitting there, so I was a few rows up. At some point we passed the first bus, and when it pulled in at the stop I got off, it had standing passengers, and was full. Some 30 to 40 passengers on this route at about 1300h was totally ludicrous for this area, and I have no idea why there was so many, save the all to-familiar vehicular gangstalking routine.

There has been some interesting bus-following-bus set ups recently, and they even put a side-by-side bus pair N. bound on Quadra St. yesterday when there are no bus stops/service. So it seems, along with many other examples of unscheduled city buses arriving that they are using the city buses as some kind of color and energetic prop, whether I am in it or outside of it.

And the first Mexican worker arrived today, he in an electric blue colored jacket, a seeming favorite color of the Mexicans. It was the Caucasian woman, the Mexican and myself weed hoe-ing pumpkins, and the Punjabis went somewhere else. I suspect the perps are "brown training" me at a distance, as I have worked with the Punjabis for four weeks now, and so they are not too far away while I get calibrated on a male Mexican, about the same shade of brown skin. Or, at least, that is how I describe it as the perps expend no end of effort to have me presented with brown colors in discretely managed amounts. They rarely put on brown colored gangstalking vehicles prior to a few months ago, and now put on one that is embedded in a cluster of greyscale colored vehicles. One funny related event was yesterday while I got a ride from some farm work candidates; a cafe-au-lait black dude in a two door black Ford Mustang, and mid-brown dog in his lap as some kind of two tone brow presentation stunt. One of those rare TI humor moments.

And lo, if the Boston Bruins didn't win the Stanley Cup just now, Vancouver falling on their face in their own rink, 4-0 the score. That whole series had to be rigged with the huge variation in scoring, and Vanvouver shooting blanks when they hadn't all season. Just my conspiratorial opinion of course, but the perps do like to rain on someone's parade, aka arrange dashed expectations.

I also got screwed out of getting some errands done this afternoon, as I must pick up a pair of pants at the alteration person and somehow I "forgot" when it was in mind earlier on the way home. The simplest things sometimes get dragged out for weeks and months by way of these imposed "forgets" that come from nowhere.

And while weeding with the hoe this morning; I should know the job by now, having done it for weeks, and lo, if the perps don't force my hand to grab a crop plant and pull it out. I would never do that on my own, and yet this repeated more than once. Another jerkaround is to have me "forget" the lay of the weeds and crop plants, move my gaze elsewhere, and somehow I "forgot" where the weeds and crop plants are. Another insane stunt of theirs was having me weed out a crop plant while looking at it the whole time and somehow not recognizing it. Again, I would never do this on my own, but for four hours work they must of had me fuck up some 20 crop plants. I am totally pissed that this bone easy job is getting sabotaged by insane assholes with remotely applied neural intervention methods.

A restless evening tonight, but one that is free from the hooting and hollaring that went on after the Vancouver Canucks won Game 5. That didn't stop until 0200h the next day.

Yesterday I went to a Gulf Island on a ferry to interview at a winery job. It will mean four days away, and three back at Abuse Central, and living in dorm-like conditons for the four day work span. I haven't quite got my head wrapped around all the Fuckover and harassment contingencies, and it is likely that I am getting dithered in the process. Never before have I been so messed up in not being able to plan my next work situation, but it seems the perps are making sure that more fuck-ups will ensue.

I am going to blog off and call this one done.

Monday, June 13, 2011

Noise Day

Every day is a noise day, but today, a Monday, they have gone all out. (Horrendous loud hot-rod noise outside from six stories below and somehow getting through my earmuffs. And very intense (5/minute) as I start this online session after having tea and chocolate).I am not farm working today, having a doctor appointment this afternoon, and did a First Feral Family stayover last night. And doing errands with my mother was another big Fuckover scene; the vehicular gangstalking was intense for  1030h, and even car carrirers were dispatched to park on the wrong side of the street. And a large dose (har, har) of the "whopper dudes", any over 250lb and over 6' today. Preferably looking extra stupid with beards, baggy shorts and ball caps (forward or backwards). Even whopper dudes at the bus stop for crissakes, about the last form of transportation after a bicycle for that lot.

Anytime I am driving or shopping with my perp abetting mother is cause for extra noise, gangstalking, street obstructions (roadworks), bizarre driving behavior (e.g. backing up at controlled intersections) and other stunts, not to mention the strange color juxtapositions, especially of red colored clothes of late. And too, yesterday when she picked me up, visiting Canadian Tire and all those staff in red shirts. I cannot stand to shop there, going back two decades or more, and I got sucked into it with my mother on some batshit looney mission to suddenly acquire a futon bed-sofa. These are typically made of unfinished pine, which "just happens" to be what I sleep on, except as bedframe only. She wants this for the unused den, and says she needs it for the visiting granddaughter, aged 5. Though, I did get one suggestion that I could use it, so WTF; I get this drift from one of the E. Indian workers that I should stay with my mother, even ask her, though my mother made it both plain she was loyal to the Fuckwits and that I wasn't to stay with her. That was in 2003, and it hasn't changed any either, not even if the perp-abetting father was eventually moved on to the dementia ward in 2009 where he lives full time.

So... what does that all mean? A suggestion that I am to re-locate there and do house and garden upkeep, which I frequently do, as well as more driving duties? Stay tuned, though I think this one has a year or more to run. Though I see she put a new cable TV/internet line in the downstairs den for whatever reason, so it seems this room, where the futon couch is to be located, has future portent in the relentless mind-fuck and life-abuse games which pass for a life. Maybe they want me to relocate to a basement dwelling, having cycled me from upstairs walk-up apartments, to 2002, to a 12th floor for a few months, to a basement suite for a year to 2004, to a four storey apartment to 2005 to a 4th floor apartment in a 12 high block to 2006, to first floor rooming house to 2007, and miraculously leaving me here for four years in a 6th floor of a 12 storey building.

Just finished dinner after the continuing noise per above. Now the pounding stereo music beat is getting through my earmuffs. It is very difficult to believe that this job interview tomorrow is serious in the perp conspiratorial context, as the job is on a Gulf Island, largely free from vehicular road traffic noise and overhead pounding and music. I suspect this is a one day trip, and that is all it would be. Invariably, the actors are serious seeming in intent, even if it seems largely scripted at times from my perspective.

The doctor's visit was another uneventful consult, though the build up was anything but with the weirds and Fuckwits loitering about, even pacing around which drives me scatty. Or more like, I am made to be highly irritated by the pacing back and forth assholes. Today's freak in the waiting room was male with long hair to his waist and a ball cap on and wandering around with his bottle of partially empty Coca Cola (read, brown drink). I am regular stalked with the Coca Cola delivery trucks, including once when in the doctor's office, as I got to see it stop outside. This fucker kept on wandering around and made sure to get in my peripherial vision when I had my head down, as the perps can plant such images directly in mind. The room also filled up with other Fuckwits, some doing minor wandering. I have a sense the big Fuckover feature is the copper colored seats in the waiting room, the third incarnation of furniture since 2003, when the first furniture was just fine. Then the brown and maroon furniture arrived in 2004 or so, and then it got converted to the present copper color in about 2009. And have I mentioned how often copper colored gangstalking vehicles get featured after a cluster of white and silver grey vehicles make an initial run? Every time I go out in public, though the perps haven't dared to put two together yet, unlike the light tan metallic colored vehicles of late, where they will put two together, parked and even mobile. Dark brown vehicles are still on single-only status, one is offensive enough so they back off.

The noise starts up as I start this journal entry. I am now assigned to be besotted with oscillating power tools, fresh from angle grinders last week. Not that I can afford either or have a compelling need, though they have planted the notion of me making or getting a file or whetstone attachment to put on the tool to sharpen the myriad of blades of knives and the hand hoe at my mother's place. Last week they had me cranked up to get an angle grinder and sharpen the hoes we use for weeding on the farm job. Having me as the minor hero seems to be a big deal for the perps, even if planted in mind for a week over some arcane technical exploit. All to be flushed out and replaced by the notion of a different power tool to do a similar job for similar purposes, sharpening. Before the angle grinder it was the planted ideations over Dremel rotary tools to do similar things. Fucking tiresome when neither the need or the money are there to support such, and it wouldn't be me going into these flights of fancy over the unobtainable or undoable.

BUT they did feed these tool ideations this morning, as one of the errands was to go back to the specialty store that sold me cut-off disks for my brother's angle grinder. That particular model was useless as it had a 10mm arbor and they are all 5/8". That is what one gets for purchasing second hand. But lo, if he didn't find a 5/8" arbor 4.5" grinder a week ago and

[And how did the rest of the posting not get saved, and wiped out?]

Going from memory here..., another 20 minutes wasted because of this insane bullshit....

...and lend me this new grinder. And lo, if the cut-off disks didn't fit, which then spawned an errand this morning back to the specialty shop to find out if I needed a arbor backing nut which was what I was led to believe after examing it. I get the heads-down service at the counter, no one looking up, and ask someone who is busy, and eventually someone does which then causes me to backtrack. I always wondered why this town was so fucked up and service avoidant, and now I know; they are scripted to be adverse. So this one guy at the counter didn't look too pleased to help me, but he looks at the grinder and eventually determines that I have the 4" cut-off blades, when the 4.5" cut-off blades fitted just right. He asks if I got them there, and yes (because getting personal service, even if reluctant, means I get the problem solved- evenutally) I did, and he asks me for the reciept, and gulp, I have no idea if it is in the grinder box too, but he mentions that it is the green piece of paper. The perps have been known to recently fuck me senseless over reciepts, having plainly stolen one from my desk that had been rescued from the garbage, this over the new rainpaints that leaked in the knees, same as the two year old ones they were to replace. And there has been a long history of reciepts going missing until I got a grip on it with my own filing cabinet and system, and yet the assholes jerk me around by stealing a reciept recently. All to crank my angst over this, and enjoin in their current fixation over taking items back to the store where purchased.

The counter guy processes my exchange/return (taking his time and disappearing for a few minutes), and in the meantime the adjacent blonde woman in a green shirt then does a 20' distance-dependent pose too, and eventually departs to be replaced by a "whopper dude", easily 6' 6" and over 300lb, and sounding off about his foot and his financial problems from its recent injury. And making out he was a buddy and was missed, and how he had a shitty winter. A black-haired babe then slips in behind the counter, making herself out to be a staff member at the back office. Finally the return/exchange is done, and then I ask about the Bosch oscillating tool, and the counter guy goes to the Bosch display to look for one, but comes back empty-handed and then looks it up instead. As it was an "interest" of mine, that was all there was, though I did note a stack of Bosch angle grinders on display, but I wasn't going there with a loaned one in hand and blade that fits for the first time. Another vehicular cluster-fuck in the parking lot, an E. Indian taxi driver doing a reversal in mid-street, a cyclist doing his pedal-by, and a vehicle on my ass after taking two back and forths to get out of the now-congested parking lot.

So tonight, while the infernal Stanley Cup game 6 is on and the Canucks falling on their face in Boston again for each of the three games they have played there, I end up (read, planted ideations) researching the Bosch cordless oscillating tool and to find it compromised by battery charge duration on Amazon.com, and then go to the Fein tools site, and page through their wonderous gear and attachments. (The Bosch is half the price it is here on Amazon, but they won't ship most of their tools into Canada, same for nearly all their electrical goods). So while looking at the Fein catalog, the sunlight flashing games start up again, the assholes directing beams of light into this apartment, starting from higher up on the putative source, the windows of the residential tower some 120' opposite. The first "beamings" are at a steep angle and reach into this apartment, and somehow get in behind this LCD display and flash as a suddenly active backdrop to what I am looking at online. It seems they need extra light contrast, adding in these brighter flashes, brighter than the display. Then the sunlight reflectance games proceed from lower down on the residential tower, about level, and then a few floors lower to then end up just above, behind and just below the balcony railing. These games seem to be exercising the properties of light where it will bend around an obstructing object (gravitational lensing), something like what one sees when viewing pictures of a solar eclipse with the moon directly in front of it. And not unlike some the ancient sun worshipping cultures that would view the sun through narrow slits of rock on the solstice as one example. Which of course, speaks to the whole conspiracy angle, if one agrees to follow this line of inquiry as to why and who is testing humans out on bending light (graivational perturbations) as it comes around objects, and why have they been at it for so long, and are doing this to me every sunlit summer evening now for three years from three different buildings (putatively) from three different distances and brightness levels? (And too, why did they, if it is the same crowd, obliterate the planet that is now the asteroid belt, and wipe out the surface of Mars, which still has some remains of habitation? Don't know, and it is a mighty stretch down the conspiracy path in linking all this together, but at least ponder why is it that the size and distance of the moon exactly lines up to block out the sun during eclipses?)

Enough conspiratorial extrapolations for the day, and onto getting prepared for my first job interview in 11 years, not counting the mass survival hires of past farm work, or the cursory questions I got last year, not even touching on my experience. One can sense this is a huge deal, as the assholes haven't allowed me to do a real job interview, with a real job on offer, for this long. I had a mock, though realistic IT interview in 2008, and a general one in 2010, though neither were specific to a real job. Such is the Perp's Progress, painful as it is, and no doubt arranged a long time ago for their prescribed constellation of events they need to have in place.

Time to blog off after getting screwed with the above mentioned Blogspot "failure" and onto getting ready for a Gulf Island round trip tomorrow.

Sunday, June 12, 2011

Spray Days

Farm work labor today, starting out with having me cut flower heads off the everbearing strawberries, some 3 to 4 acres of plastic row covered rows. There were three of us on the job, one E. Indian woman and a Caucasian woman with psorias who I would term a colleague, as she and I talk on breaks as there isn't anyone else who is fluent in English to talk to. She tailed me to the daffodil farm last year, and looks to be rewarded with tuition and  entry into a 9 month horticultural program starting in July. She worked at this farm last year, and seems to have a certain amount of relationship dysfunction in her life. She somehow manages to touch on many of the perps' topical themes too; from money management to jobs in the oil and gas industry and then even put my time card though the punch/print machine, after asking and me strangely giving her permission.

Then I got called off the strawberry flower cutting after for two hours, then onto herbicide application where four of us worked on guarding the same strawberries from overspray while the aisles between the strawberry rows were sprayed for the weeds which threatened to overwhelm them. There were two red colored 3'x8' plastic panels with a wood edge to stiffen the them, and I was lugging one panel while the herbicide applicator was between the two panels bordering the row edges, as held by the panel toting workers, me being on. These were the same strawberries I had a hand in planting some four weeks ago, now with leaves and  begining to send out runners. One week later and the strawberry leaves would of been hanging over the row edges and intermixing with the weed leaves, and it would of been responsibly impossible to apply herbicide in that circumstance.

But the system we had, just fabricated, didn't quite work, so the panels had to be stiffened again, and in the interim we hoe-ed the prolific weeds between the pumpkins in a nearby field under the powerlines that were just emerging .

Later in the afternoon, the red plastic panels had been reworked, and we went back to the herbicide application until 1700h, when the boss' son declared it too windy to continue. So, as I agreed to extra working time to complete the herbicide job, I ended up hoe-ing the pumpkin weeds until 1830h. And it is important to note the color games going on; two red 3'x8' panels bounding the green weeds between them, and lo, if the pumpkin weeds that were most prolific weren't green on top with a red colored underside. When I would take the hoe to a line of weeds that was left upright by the tractor cultivator, why this green weed row (4" wide or so), was converted into red leaves, upended by the application my hoe.

Then to get a ride to the bus stop, I was to help for 10 minutes (as stated at first) with some of the furniture in the farm warehouse, as some had been reserved from last week in the house moving job of the boss' son. He didn't want some of it and it was kept at the farm warehouse for possible use by the Mexicans farm workers who are to arrive in late June. As it "turned out", one of the Punjabis wanted two of the beds, and sorted his way through the furniture for 40 minutes instead of ten like he initially said. He ended up breaking a 2'x1' mirror on one bed headboard in the process, but finally his deep metallic red colored pickup truck was loaded with a single bed and two light blue matresses. I got my ride to the bus stop, but as it was after 1800h there were much less buses running and a longer wait.

This was during game 5 of the Stanley Cup final series between Vancouver and Boston, and there were countless vehicular gangstalking formations, with man metallic red colors that were on duty then. Finally, when the bus came, some 20 passengers. For what I know about this town, it  was totally bogus to have that many passengers on a bus heading into downtown simultaneously during a pivotal Stanley Cup hockey game. I had my bald heads, negroes, fat freaks all Unfavored, and clustered around me, and to top off the bullshit, a woman with black hair and unnatural red streaks in it sat next to me.

I get off the city bus freakshow, with my pink-red dressed accompaniment in front of me and walk one block to my apartment building. A seeming meeting had erupted across the street with 20 more freaks standing there; male long harirs, long bearded and seeming hippy throwbacks. I get to my building and somehow am too tired to walk up the six flights as I usually do, and take the elevator. And at the sixth floor, lo, if there wasn't a freak dude poised to enter the elevator as I was about to step out, this Fuckwit obstructing my egress. I tell him that I would like to get out and he didn't like to hear it, and he got cranked up about it as we were each headed opposite directions. What is it about this Fuckover town that elevator etiquette ignorant assholes are positioned at the doors before they open and obstructing my abitlity to get out? At least 12 obvious stunts in this building in 4 years, and this bullshit erupted in 2004 and hasn't stopped. I have worked here in prior years, Vancouver, Seattle, Everett, and used elevators in New York, Los Angeles, Paris and other places, and have never ever before seen the total insane obstructing bullshit about not letting passengers exit before they get out of an elevator that goes on in this Total Abuse Domination city. Even the Asians are doing this bullshit, ordinarily a most polite population who value manners more than most. Plus, this fugly Fuckwit had tattoos on the side of his neck, another Unfavored feature.

And continuing noise all evening after 2000h, Game 5 of the Stanley Cup finals with the near-local Vancouver Canucks winning; hooting and hollaring going on until at least 2300h. Then outside heavy duty vehicles (on a Friday night, sure), motorcycles and other loud mufflered vehicles (hotrods, bad mufflers etc.). Then they kept me up for hours in the night, and maybe I got some two hours sleep.

A wacko morning outbound Saturday city bus trip, the 0707h #6 bus from downtown, and populated with at least 12 dudes, one of whom regularly gangstalks me on Saturday mornings on this bus. This same Fuckwit was approaching the bus stop, and comes toward me, stopping some 4' away, and inserting himself between the woman in bright red pants and me. He also gives me the stare, and this fits with the ongong public behavior pattern of having the Fuckwits walk (or run sometimes) directly at me and then divert or stop, enough to invoke a primal threat warning the perps like to consistently test me for. Then about ten minutes into the bus trip, with the skankl smelling dudes, this same Fuckwit gets up and pops the emergency hatch partially open to let some air into the rear of the bus. Like WTF; it is for an emergency and the windows are there for letting air in. I suppose they needed to test this plastic panel in a different orientation while travelling on the mobile gangstalker platform. This same Fuckwit came at me at a different bus stop one morning, sitting next to me for some curious reason, and I got up and stood elsewere, as this Fuckwit creeped me out. It is the same Fuckwit that stood at Fort and Quadra streets, near the #6 bus stop last year, reading a book for some five minutes, this at the intersection where pedestrians would ordinarily wait to cross with the traffic controls. One sick asshole to say the least, who likes "popping up" at 0700h or so on Saturdays. Go figure.

Sunday, a day off; I set the alarm for 0730h and somehow the switch got pushed back in the night and I awoke at 0830h for a 9.5 hour sleep, absurd when one considers that my needed sleep time is 7 to 8 hours and all sleep curtailment has no detrimental effect. I did a nut shave last night and also shaved my legs, the latest in imposed personal care that seems important for the perps as we finally get some sunny weather, though not yet arranged for me to get my legs tanned. The perps like to have me get tanned by various sequences; back, then shaved front through the Tan-Through shirt, then arms, and now hands this past week, when attending to flower cutting, as it was best without gloves. The perps keep telling me to get ready for having my ass crack waxed, something I have never done before.

A bedsheet laundering this morning, having to go to the 7th floor as the 6th floor dryer hasn't been working properly for some three weeks and the assistant manager is blowing me off, even if I tell him the clothes are steamed, not dried, and I have seen it happen to others' clothes too. And some more laundry room stalking now, the first in two years when I would routinely get someone else in there, even the coin collection person. Now, I get a native Indian pulling his just-dried clothes from the dryer ahead of me using it for my bedsheets. At least it saved me another trip up the stairs, though for some reason I backed off from removing his clothes that were all dry. And lo, if one shirt of  his didn't leap off the pile he was holding and I retrieved it for him. The perps just love the extra interpersonal interactions, though in small discrete doses.

Other ongoing games in the prior weeks;

  • limiting my use of combs and hairbrushes with my hair falling into place when wet, going on for two months now,
  • variable sunlight games; "forgetting" to put my sunblock on at 1000h break, and 1230h lunchtime instead,
  • newfound "courage" to expose/tan my torso at lunch now, this seeming inhibition no more, even if 10 lb heavier than I thought (learned last night; no weight loss when starting this farm labor job in mid-May),
  • various combinations of clothes and skin; some getting tanned later in the day (e.g. after removing my watch), some getting sunblock on it and other areas not ("forgetting" to apply to all of me that is exposed in one application), and
  • wearing the tan-through shirt some days and not others, plus this shirt and a Capilene shirt of the same color are both modified by the perps to have color variability they didn't have before,
  • stringing noises together in a seamless sequence; an overhead clunk (to 12" thick of floor-ceiling concrete), the the clatter of a small item being dropped and then an electronic ping noise; normally these strange noises are supplied as one-of, but now the perps are stringing them one after the other in a new escalation of this perversity.

Off to deal with laundry, and time to call this four day long blog done.

And off for three days, with a doctor appointment tomorrow and an interview Tuesday.

Thursday, June 09, 2011

A Thursday Like a Monday

A rare stayover at the First Feral Family house last night, also getting screwed out of planning it ahead and ending up without any toiletries to shave, though I did use a toothbrush that was new from the plastic package, found in a drawer. And I got screwed out of getting up as planned with the alarm clock, they having me sleep an extra half hour, and lo, if there wasn't enough time to shower. The night before, I laundered my work clothes in the FFF washing machine and hung them out to dry on the clothesline. Regular readers and most TI's will know the perps are totally fixated with my clothes laundering, and using different detergent (from a yellow plastic Sunlight bottle), in a different wasthing machine (the FFF house washing machine would be under total perp scrutiny of course), and so this new combination in conjunction with keeping me in the same clothes two days in succession was likely a huge perp event.

Add some more confluences, like it being payday today, and the perps are going all out to make this a high variation day. I was flower de-heading the everbearing strawberries in the field with the plastic row-cover and the irrigation tape underneath it. I was using scissors mostly to cut the flower bearing stems, and was duly finger and cognitive dithered to ensure they had me cutting the odd leave off by "mistake", though no cutting of my fingers yet. Another day to go before this job is done, so who knows what perp fuckery lies ahead. That the plastic row-cover is a metallic silver-grey sheen to it so it can reflect light back to the plant leaves is also likely a perp advantage, given the profusion of silver-grey vehicles that were in gangstalking formation when I exited the farm and took a five minute ride to the nearest bus stop. Plus, I got extra tanned from it today, even if I had Ombrelle on me.

I felt cognitively clobbered and memory blanked for much of the day, barely able to explain even the things I know well. Also, more names slipped out of recall, which is a piss-off, as it is tough enough to make them recallable in the first place. No doubt a stronger application of cognitively clobbering irradiation was applied, as if I never woke up properly. I had such days back before they went overt/beserk in 04-2002, and I could never figure out why I was so slowed down. Invariably these were exceptional days, say, when I had a trip to Vancouver planned, or some such unusual event/destination. Now I know, special Fuckover arrangements, (per above; laundry, mid-week, FFF stayover last night, etc.) demand special extra doses of being mentally rendering.

The city bus freakshow was up to its billing, picking up the laborer dudes who haven't been seen on a bus for decades until this contrived nonsense began in 2002. Two were sitting on each side of the bus in the transverse seat over the rear wheel well,  and each of them had one leg crossed over the other, in mirror image. Who writes this stupid nonsense? I had the "Plastic Bag People" next to me after the headscarf act got off the bus; two shoppers with their groceries, and who ended up tailing me for two blocks with a swarm of at least six after getting off the bus. Another wheelchair act on the bus again, and I have no idea as to why it erupts the stop before I get off, except to provide more "dwell time" before it makes the corner for my stop. They even had the wheelchair ramp sieze up for five minutes one time as this same bus stop.

Then the headscarfed woman with the 3 y.o. child came back to the rear bench seat again, their second such showing, and most odd as there was room at the front of the bus. I cannot stand the sight of headscarfs or any other tight head coverings, and I suspect this might have something to do with the years they wiped my memory nearly clean, aged 2 to 5. In the early overt.beserk days of 2002, I was party to overhearing someone speaking to another at length about nuns, so in the retrospective analysis of events, where nothing is chance but orchestrated, it does make me wonder if they put me in a Catholic institution where they might of also been murdering the Duplessis Orphans in another parallel scene of high handed systematic abuse. That would of been 1956-57, or 1958-59 when living in Montreal, the latter year being when my father graduated with his PhD in geology. As before with most other Unfavored demographic groups and features/objects, these fugly sights have only become objectionable, or even disgusting, since 2002. And too, I get planted with the notion that such headwear is plain wacko, and no opportunity to analyse this newfound meme/"reaction".

And more of the pounding stereo noise when I got into my apartment; it seems this noise is getting much more airtime, so it is likely they want full coverage of everything I do with that infernat racket going on.

And plenty more forced "forgets" of late; attending to getting the laundry was interupted to then have it "forgotten" and sitting in a heap for 40 minutes before I was allowed to catch it. Such things were never forgotten until recent months, and it seems ever last detail of every last function is under more scrutiny, back to screwing me over turning off/on a lightswitch again. Along with extreme typo sabotage, enough to call this one done for today, even if woefully incomplete in describing the games and stunts and noise that went down today.

Tuesday, June 07, 2011

Sleepless in Victoria

no sleep,
motorcycle noise, and props arranged
paint people on the bus
FFF paternal asshole ailing, no UK departure for FFF maternal

A mixed up day today, starting with next to no sleep last night, all to keep me listening to various kinds of noises that went on, about once per minute, and we are talking about 0200h on a Tuesday for crissakes.
What heavy duty vehicle would be parading around then?

I got up early, about 0600h, and once done the breakfast and personal hygeine thing, there was time to put a load of bedsheets laundry through with one towel with spot remover on it to get rid of the blood spot that came from nowhere last week. It didn't launder out the first time. And the blood did not come directly from me as  I was not cut, hacked or othewise injured before it occured. I suspect they can take blood from me directly through their teleportation games, just as they certainly do with shit. But perhaps they are testing someone else out on my towels and looking for some kind of blood spot to blood-in-me (no cuts or lesions) comparative energetic analysis. Don't know, just my speculation on their red and blood games that go on, and I am sure, also play out on the world stage in the form of suicide bombers and massacres. Odd that these latter events seem to end up "happening" to travellers from other continents.

Then off to the First Feral Family house to do activities to get the house in order as my mother is leaving later to go to the UK and see her sister. As I was tied up doing this in the afternoon, the ex offered to drive my mother to the hospital to visit my father, recuperating from a fall two days ago. I did watering and weeding, and "planted" (innoculated more accurately) these ectomycorrhizal fungi I recieved yesterday from Fungi.com in five vegetable plants, one tree and four junipers that were planted last year. The neighborhood chainsaw noise erupted for the planting of the fungi pellets big time. And of course, a prior run-up of noise from the STRATCOM B-52's, local floatplane aircraft and the vehicular road noise of loud mufflered vehicles and the like. The perps also arranged the sunny weather to go cloudy with some light showers for this event and afterward. As I was planting strawberry plants two weeks ago, it seems the perps cannot get enough of me doing this activity. I wasn't aware that it was important to them until this year, when it seemed the weeding, pruning, loping and compost digging was the big deal.

And so when the ex and my mother arrived back at 1530h, they said my father had deteriorated and wasn't really that with it. So... that changed everything and my mother cancelled her flight and got her flight insurance to cover the cancellation. I will work tomorrow and hopefully see the First Feral Father/abuser in the evening. He was the one who turned me over for this insane abuse I get all the time, so do not be surprised that I hold a particularly vehement view on him, whatever his medical state is. And of course, I had all these plans to use my mother's vehicle for various errands, and all those plans went kaput. The perps love to set me up for what I call dashed expectations.

And now the local ISP/phone company has decided to take down my perp-abetting mother's phone so she cannot inform her sister in the UK as to her changed plans. This was good for 20 minutes of on-phone time, read EMF signals at one's ear with ongoing cognitive function of listening and interpreting and responding. This came on the heels of doing some bookmarking over camping gear, a premptive activity should I succeed in my interview next week at the winery/vineyard. And we know how the perps just love to noisestalk me while bookmarking, as well as putting on aurora borealis-like plasma displays on my LCD as I type or read online.

I take the city bus back to my place at 1730h, and lo, only some 7 to 10 gangstalkers on board. I had been getting 20 to 35 at this time of day and now a sudden decrease in the freaks riding with me. Though, the freak level was down, but the abusrdity was having two proximate independent Fuckwits both daubed in paint. The woman with the child that never was still had blue jeans on with at least 30 splats of white paint on them, and was likely the "starter clown" for the dude who came on board with white overalls daubed with various tones of blues and greys, and tastefully done too, color range coordinated. Like WTF; I never saw any commercial painters on the bus before this insane malarkey started nine years ago, and if he really was a commercial painter then there would be a very good chance that some of the paint would of been wet for crissakes. But the bus drivers let them on all the time. What a total joke, these painted dudes as faux commercial painters riding the loser cruiser (city bus).

And I am wrapping this one up for the day, but suffice to say, earlier this morning, when at the FFF house and doing the fungi "planting" and watering, I have never felt so cognitively clobbered and out of it since they force fed me the wrong medications in 2003. No doubt they wanted me as brain dead as possible as it seems it was such a big deal for the assholes.

Monday, June 06, 2011

Thuddy Buddies Again

The thundering bass stereo noise has erupted from above, just as it had done earlier, and in both instances, occurs while eating chocolate with my tea, while the dishes were being cleaned up, and following when, presumably, the chocolate is being digested over the next thirty minutes. When doing the dishes for tea-time this afternoon, the noise coincidence was even more pointed; when the faucet was running the thuddy stereo noise came on and when I turned the faucet off, the thuddy noise stopped, at least four times in succession. It seems that the noise of falling water, (read, pissing in a toilet) it a big entre/noise association the perps exploit.This was learned from other dishes washing events long ago; sirens, aircraft, motorcycle noise etc. all have a a "habit" of coming on strong when the kitche faucet is running. And of late, even if the bathroom is 15' deeper into the building, these same noises are coming on for the bathroom faucet running, and coming in louder than they ever did before.

On the activity front, many things in the past day and today. The dementia act father fell down and hurt himself, enough to be sent to the hospital, so I did the driving honors for my mother and accompanied her for some 4 hours of emergency visitation. Eventually the X-rays found that he had a fractured lumbar M2 bone, so that will take a few weeks to heal and the pain to go down. Today, we visited him again, in his ward, and it seems that this will take a week at least before he is self-ambulatory, likely longer. And why weren't those padded pants on anyhow, as he has at least one pair. Another FUD augmentation is that he was on an aluminum sheet stretcher the entire time, so how did the X-rays get done? Don't know, and they could of moved him onto a special X-ray transparent platter. Other FUD was that a new girl at the Imaging Department desk seemed to know he was in a lot of pain even if it seemed she wasn't attending at any point. Always these FUD games.

My mother flies to the UK tomorrow, so I get to do the honors of taking her to the airport and taking her vehicle back. So no doubt these events were all arranged with these two Feral Family perp abettors making out to be totally innocent. What the connection is I don't know, except to say that the perps have a long running interest in having victims fly/travel, or be tormented by those who do fly, e.g. Gina Romano's (and here) experiences with airline personnel. And is also likely related to the elevator rushing games I continue to get, where the Fuckwit attempts to get in before I get out, a sudden eruption of public behavior that began in 2004 and hasn't let up. Shed no tears for First Feral Family abettors and the rest of their litany of cooperation, and whatever stunts they might be putting on.

Needless to say, my rare visit to the hospital was duly gangstalked and heavy on presentation of those freaking wheelchairs they hound me with all over town. And they even found time to put on four negroes on the gangstalker roster, one IN a wheelchair for the most ridiculous confabulated confluence of the Unfavored.

And finally, some normal temperature weather this weekend, and going into this week. I was hoping to get my just-shaved legs tanned this week while not working due to no crops to pick, but it seems we will be going back to do more weeding in the strawberries. All those 4" germinant weeds get to be hoed yet again, and it seems the soil is thick with a weed mat from which they will spring in short order. That is the nature of the organic bog land soils it seems, also just as fertile for weeds as it is for potatoes.

Other action on this Monday, a return from the First Feral Family overnight stay, and weeding this morning. Also shovelling the peat moss, meaning brown powder seemed to attract the aircraft overhead, first the STRATCOM B-52's, and then the local float and private aircraft. Then the neighborhood lawnmower noise and chainsaw noise too. Just a regular day in suburbia while I was on weeding and landscape maintainance work.

And I also got my brown cardboard box of ectomycorrhizal fungi today, a new-found interest in plant and crop health erupting after a 30 year duration after I did a report in college in 1978 on the potential use of ectomychorrhizal fungi for tree nursery and planting in forestry. Only to find that not much has changed, and it is only people like Paul Stamets (Fungi.com) whose long standing research and promotion is making some headway. As he says, "no fungi, no people", and that native fungal populations (forests ecosystems as one) should be made a national security priority. What interests the perps so much about fungi I don't quite know, but one can be sure that my every move and thought is presently scripted to the microsecond, so this long running interest of theirs is now resurrected for whatever reason. I figure they perps were all over me since birth, so the fungi interest at college isn't exactly my own doing either. Funny, they wouldn't let me do a thesis on it the next year, and swapped me out to something totally different (nutrition of leaf fall in streams).

Another big perp event was arranging me to make my standard quesadilla lunch and dinner to have five items that were new, or finishing up. This means that some of the packaging ends up in the garbage together, which is just too fascinating for words, for them that is. A new bottle of coconut oil (liquifed by some strange force, normally solid, though soft at room temperature), a new package of tortillas, a new tub of tapenade, newly acquired cooked chicken meat (a Chicken Run hours earlier), and finishing up a block of cheese (its cling wrap ends up in the garbage). Just plain exciting for the assholes who arrange all this and have me eat the same lunch and dinner course for over eight years. They still won't let me eat eggs, as it seems the yellow color is a particular problem for them, and in keeping with their strategically planted yellow objects, vehicles etc.

A job interview at a winery/vineyard next week, so I shall see how that goes then. I cannot quite imagine the perps will let me work somewhere with no noise of regular road traffic, though the aircraft traffic will doubtless make up for it. The perps have been pumping (promoting and inciting) all spring about working in a vineyard in the Okanagan (some hundreds of miles from here), so this might be my entre. And too, the perps had me drive the FFF parents to visit wineries in the Okanagan the past four autumns, so there must be something important to be discovered via winemaking, e.g. provenance related. And not forgetting they had me making wine as an amateur, and as a club member. We shall see.

Enough of today's perp nonsense, and I will call this one done for tonight.