Noise Day

1640h
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.

1800h
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.

2120h
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.