Spray Days

06-10-2011
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.

06-11-2011
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.

06-12-2011
1050h
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.