Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Last 2011 Outside Tan

The last outside tan at the lake today, thing being the permitted skyclad site that I can get to on the bus with a 25 min. walk/hike. And it seems the sun is now too low to get any more tanning at this latitude, below 49 degrees. Same deal; the dudes go into natter mode with one standing up for a whole hour while doing so. (Standing while tanning seems to be another anisotropic variable that the perps want to test). Other dudes were in stand around mode, and of course there was plenty of representation from the male ponytail and longhair crowd too and a few tattoos too. About 20 males to four females, and in the latter category the one with the Scottish accent kept a lid on it for the most part, thankfully. The perps know I loathe Scottish accents and just when I have had enough of this bullshit. Maybe I should stick with salon tanning unless I have more conducive company when tanning outdoors. As I have mentioned before, the perps have a HUGE interest in sunlight, vitamin D and its physiologic effects, skin color and that it may change in response to suntanning and the skin itself. It wasn't enough they put on a red rash on my left forearm two days ago that seems to resist healing, so they put two quarter inch nicks on my right forearm when I was digging in my pack at the lake. Kind of a "starter blood sample" that wouldn't stop for a few minutes immediately before tanning. (A perp trademark; unstaunchable skin cuts).

I had my strange entourage around me on the bus in both directions, different characters of course. The outbound bus ride seems to be a precursor for the kind of wackos I meet at the lake; males with ponytails, skinheads, waddling walking, and the other comportment afflictions they seem to have that gets my attention, aka, are Unfavored. And three gangstalkers getting off the bus with me, all wearing or carrying denim for crissakes.

The overhead aircraft came over the lake while I was there, a seeming permanent condition everywhere I go that isn't served by landbased noise means. Though to be fair, yesterday, the perps laid on the aircraft (military four engine transport) when I was in the backyard of the First Feral Family house. They were exceptionally adroit in timing it to when I picked up my dishes cleaning brush I took there to repair with expoxy resin. Then  my mother was all over me after that when I was sanding the brush handle to remove the oddly persistent adhesive from the raw wood brush handle, put there to prevent epoxy resin from seeping into it.

And what is with the Harley Davidson motorcycle noise today, especially this evening? And that it can bypass my earmuffs with impunity? Plenty of motorcycles on the road today, as well as them being used as non-noise making props. I have yet to figure out how they were used in the torture and abuse of children under the direction of these abuses when I was aged 2 to 5, the years most of my memory was wiped out by some means.

 The purchase of a September bus pass seemed to get the perps worked up when I was at the LD store tonight. And yet again, they put on the male ponytail freak/staff member to putz with brown boxes exactly next to the skin creme section I was to peruse. But not with that freak who made it clear he doesn't give a shit about customers, stepping in front of me and no apology. This is the same shit I get from the stocker/stalkers at the adjacent supermarket, which begs the question as to how it could be possible that these supposed fugly Unfavored store stocking/stalking staff act all the same when they are supposedly independently staffed.

Extra light flashes and abberations these days; I seen on the TV at the FFF house that the perps were adding in red scan lines where the background color was green tree canopies of a forest. Then when I refuse to look at the TV and listen only, why, the same red color flashes erupt in my vision. I am also getting more masers, those fuzzy black balls that continually bounce around wherever I look, and they are now being made to look like a fly or insect that suddenly erupts in front of me.

More motorcycle noise heard through the earmuffs and timed for the exact moment of increasing my interest in what I was reading at that moment.

Enough of the pedantic, and off to digging soil again at the FFF house. There is one dug hole at the front for the perimeter drain hassle, (and additionally, crimping the water supply line with the excavator), and me digging down the hump of soil in the backyard along with sieving it to remove rocks, plastic garbage and couch grass roots.

Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Under the Trees and Then Out in the Sun

This is at least the sixth day in the last two weeks of working in my perp abetting mother's backyard, sieving compost or soil, and partially under the overtopping pine trees or else out in the sun, depending on the sun angle and the exact location of where I was working. The perps just love me to come in and out of tree canopy shade and its overhead shelter and have been known to place "just standing there" gangstalkers under pubic boulevard trees, doing nothing but looking stupid. As the soil seiving and digging is on private property and off the beaten track in suburbia, there are no adjacent gangstalkers. Instead, I get overhead aircraft noise, neighbor noise (lawnmowers, chain saws (one today, with two distinct muffler variations)) and a plethora of passing vehicles; hotrods, heavy duty trucks, bad mufflers, diesels, sirens and motorcycles in all their variants (Harleys, Japanese high RPM, trail bikes).

At least four wasps independently buzzed me in the face this afternoon, and at no time was I disturbing a nest. I have had no end of insects harassing me since this abuse began in 04-2002, so all I can assume is that they too are under the perps' command.

I was working in the compost pile to separate the compost from the uncomposted debris some two weeks ago, and now I am involved in a 20'x12' area to level this ridiculous and pointless 2' hump in the level backyard. It is one of my perp-abetting father's legacies, not finishing the lot landscaping after some 40 years of living there. Another legacy is the slew of non-compostable garbage, usually plastics, that are embedded in the soil I am sieving. I separate all this out, in conjuction with the areal sheets of plastic I have dug up as part of this backyard landscape completion. Very often a noisestalking is scripted for the moment I pick up the plastic. My mother wasn't there for most of the day so I got things done on my terms, and not getting sandbagged by these infernal tea times she springs in the morning and afternoon.

Though today I got sandbagged by getting up later and having to attend to bedsheets laundry, as it seems the perps are waking me up in the night and imposing their required activities, e.g. jerking off. This normally does not happen for years on end, and suddenly it starts up almost every other night. Back to Wilheim Reich's theory of orgone energies (and here) and how orgasm releases them. It seems the perps are testing this, as for years they would arrange couples having sex next door or above me. I wonder what bozo flavor they will stiff me with next when they are ready to try me out again with a new girlfriend. Just leave me the fuck alone is all I ask.

So it seems the perps like to restrict me to some 4 hours of work in a day, but have mostly cooperated with having them sunny, and I get to work without a shirt and wearing shorts to keep the tanning up. Again, normally, I don't give a hoot as to how much tanning I get, but this summer it has become an obsession to the point that I prepared myself with a base tan at the tanning salon, and can now tan outside with no SPF and without burning.

A laundry fuckover tonight; the dryer appeared to work and then quit inside a minute, so my clothes sat wet in the dryer for two hours. I go to attend to the clothes, find them wet and figured the perps fucked the dryer cycle on me. I load another $1.75 and the dryer ran again for a minute and quit. Have we not done this one before, when the dryer would not dry but in effect steamed the clothes while tumbling? Yes, it was fixed about four weeks ago and the problem ran for at least six weeks prior to that with no notice on the dryer or anywhere else. So here we go again; mention it to the manager and see when it might get done and pay the privelige of $1.75 to find out or not as there will be no notice that it will be fixed.

 The city bus freakshow wasn't too bad today, some 12 passengers inbound, unlike 3x as many for the same route and time of day I have recounted in past blogs. This is returning from the First Feral Family house to where I live in the downtown area. It was more of surrounding me with babes on the bus with an Asian closest of all, the same one who tailed me out the door at my stop. It was a blonde on the other side of the Asian, and a black haired attractive babe two seats over on the rear bench. But they did put on an Islamo-wacko in a full blown burqua late in the bus trip, having done this once before. This person got a seat at the front of the bus so I didn't have this hideous visage in my face thankfully. This is the second time on this route that this same burqua show has occured, and in both cases the respective seating and near maximum distance apart have been the same.

Other nonsense this morning was when I went to the PO to get my registered mail (passport) and coins at the bank for said laundry machines. The first gangstalker was this tall negro male in a full blown gown to his feet in a light soft green color. Like WTF; negroes are less thatn 3% of the population according to the last census, and here comes a negro in some kind of ceremonial garb. Walking behind him was a male vagrant act on his cell phone the entire time, a curious juxtaposition, though not unusual for cell phones to be used as a trailing EMF device. Two intersections were getting repaired on my two block visit to the PO and bank. I cannot count the number of times they arrange their dudes in overhead boom trucks and putzing with the wires or traffic signals. Often they put two boom trucks together, and three on occasion for a big event. Also, they were running wires or optical fiber under the road at the second intersection, (next to the bank), another one of their tricks I have come to know. (As in have me walk over top of an actively moving cable (optical or metal) along with the shills). Said under-road wiring crew were also in the bank, making out that this was a bank connection they were putting in. The perps cannot get enough of me making financial transactions and putting on all manner of concurrent stunts and stupid nonsense. This time they seemed to be taking it one more step by having a wire or cable that was inside the bank also travelling outside and under the road at one of the busiest downtown intersections, Fort and Douglas for locals. Why don't the perps pay me to carry a wire or whatever the fuck would expedite this now nine year old train of Extreme Abuse? I can never understand why they would be so mind-crippled to conduct this insane and abusive litany of inanity for so long on me and other TI's and yet have all manner of unconventional and remotely applicable physical methods at their disposal that can control the entire world. And here they are dicking around and tailing me with negroes, under-road wires and cables as well as the battalion of gangstalking dudes (mostly) made prominent by their large guts (the gut strut), baggy shorts, waddling walk, clustering and a coffee (think brown) in one hand.

I got "negroed" again as I exited the PO, and a third time on this morning time outing. And when I headed for the outbound bus, why, the seeming resident negro was holding court on the couch in the lobby as he often does for some kind of last ditch negro-stalking before I get to the elevator or stairwell. Not forgetting a few days ago that this same "lobby negro" hid behind the mailbox wall and then followed me into the elevator for a first time accompaniment with the fucker. Had I seen him in time I would of taken the stairwell.

Then when walking back from the inbound bus in the evening, a negro was in lead-ahead gangstallking mode for two blocks with this strange walk like he had a turd in his pants and was making allowance by making maximum lateral leg clearance. And for some reason my breakneck walking pace was not enough to catch up and pass this gruesome scenario.

Anyhow, time to call this one done for the day, and hope that my last day of my bus pass won't get weather changed and then keep me from visiting the lake. Who knew the perps would be so freaking rabid about sunlight exposure, skin color and tanning (changing to brown). I noted that after a day in the sun and getting tanned yesterday, they put me on a Caucasian cashier who was tanned but also had a large amount of dark brown freckles on her face. An eveningtime tan-freckle comparison it seemed. And she looked scared shitless as part of the deal, my usual reception for a first time cashier.

Saturday, August 27, 2011

Digging for Plastic and Sunlight

A continuation of the soil digging at my perp abetting mother's suburban house today. This is the "soil hump' project, where a 20' wide, 2' high soil hump was left as is in a near level flat backyard. Don't ask me how the perp abetting father missed getting this attended to some 30 years ago when he was still putzing with the landscape and grounds, having moved there to a new house in 1967. And I pulled out the seventh sheet of polyethylene plastic out of the ground on this project, and discovered another one that was too deep to get, plus the 2' high garden boxes are over top of this sheet. And at least one more sheet plastic corner hanging out of the ground. If nothing else, the ants just love having an impermeable layer over top of their nest, as this was the third ants nest I have discovered under either sheet plastic or 40 y.o. plastic laminate attached to rotted plywood. As usual, the noise increases as I am discovering, digging or handling these long buried "treasures" (as the perps see it); hot rod noise, overhead aircraft, lawnmowers varying pitch, heavy duty vehicles passing by on adjacent streets.

A sunny day, and reasonably warm, and no imminent hurricanes on the W. coast of N. America thankfully. And so.... in keeping with this year's "need" to get a good tan, I went to the FFF house wearing my just-picked up and altered shorts under my jeans. The intent was to dig with my shorts on, and shirt off, and in my big hiking boots that I normally wear for farm work. That did work for an hour maybe, but then the onset of irritable bowel like symptoms came on with the now know "remedy" of taking a shit. And this forced a shower to clean up, launder the shorts at my mother's place, and resume work in my jeans and wearing gumboots, shirt off. The shorts were later hung up on the backyard drying rack to dry, and some 40' from where I was working. My mother came back shortly afterwards, and started tea time to slow me up, and when I resumed I put my shirt on as there wasn't any more tanning time left in the day. Once I packed up for the day, the perps pulled another irritable bowel shit, and lo, if I didn't have to shower to clean up yet again. And following that, I retrieved my shorts from the line and put them on under my jeans just in case the perps pulled a shit-in-pants stunt on the bus on the way back. They didn't thankfully, but their stunts surely mixed up the afternoon in terms of sun tan exposure, body signature (twice showered), and clothing with footwear combinations; jeans over shorts in street shoes at first, shorts only with hiking boots, jeans with gumboots and finally jeans over just-laundered shorts with shirt and street shoes. And of course, I didn't get the sun tan exposure duration that I wanted, all afternoon was the plan, which was predictable in hindsight as they don't like me to have too much sun exposure after a near full day (yesterday at the lake).

And it was a rare instance of a normal inbound (return) city bus trip in terms of passenger load; some six to eight others on board, headed to downtown at 1800h. A back and forth pacing wacko/retard act at my departure bus stop who behaved himself onboard, but no other major freaks. A cute blonde in a sundress for the last five minutes even, sitting at the other side of the rear bench seat. In fact, the high strangeness was outside the bus. At least three Asian parties standing at street corners and not appearing to be pedestrians, doing just-stand-there duty. I had some six Asians around me on the bus when I first boarded it, but they got off at the suburban stops. The bus was also re-routed for some four blocks as there was an apparent street accident on its regular route. The bus driver has two way communication with a base who can direct them to reroute the bus in advance.

And another case of high strangeness was getting off the bus where there was a crotch spread dude sleeping on the adjacent grass boulevard with a bicycle in front of him. The long travelling cyclist act just "happens" to take a rest outside my bus stop. I notice the perps like to augment their operatives with bicycles of late; walking with them on the sidewalks (when they aren't illegally riding their bicycle on the sidewalk), hanging bicycles from the ceiling of the local supermarket as part of a contest, and even carrying their bicycle. All too stupid for this hikey-bikey town, and I suspect that the perps gain some kind of  advantage from the tension and stresses of the metals of the spokes, rims and frame. Not to mention the variablity of materials for bicycles now; aluminum and carbon fiber and I even saw a trippy bicycle with bamboo struts.

And I see the power was shut down in this apartment block for part of the day, another perp interest it seems, to lower the EMF activity for a while to better assess the background level for absorption and re-emittance.

I will get this posted soon as there will be a two day stay at the FFF house. A near sleepless night as the perps replayed ideations from themes and scenes they hadn't played in mind for over a year. Hence the accompanying noise each time a planted ideation came on, fromm outside noises of dude and yobo hollaring to excessive (augmented) noise from my fingertips, skin and hair on the sheets. And head flipping inside of a minute even, plus ear itches to cause me to scratch and then an outside noise at the moment of contact. Then they get me up an hour earlier for sheet washing.

The night before they had me get up and take a shower to then apply more vitamin E creme, the second application after the total toasting when at the skyclad beach the day before. Then yesterday's containment of tanning was near identical to last week's when they had me suddenly stop. Past tanning, apart from the recent two skyclad beach/lake events has often been accompanied by sudden cessations in farm work or sudden weather changes.  Anyhow, I know so little of this aspect of their insane quest I should stop while I am ahead and call this posting done for a few days.

Thursday, August 25, 2011

Tanning Outside

 A second visit to the lake to get tanned skyclad, this "habit" playing out for the second time this summer, and was also a "habit" back in 2003-04. Back then, my "need" to  do a post-hike lake swim totally stopped, even if the hiking continued to mid-2006. I stil don't get any hiking done as I don't have a vehicle to get to remote trailheads. This lake is city bus route proximate with a 20 min. hike in, making it accessible to me at least.

It was busy there, and much like last week but with 20% more dudes, another Testicle Festival type of male crowd. (No fawning babes if you follow the drift, or else look up 2011 Testical Festival online). One of my wharf neighbors mentioned that there were three people there the day before at 1300h, and at the same time today there was at least 20, expanding to 35 or so when I departed at 1520h. Which goes to show there is an organized crowd that comes with me, aka gangstalkers. And at least one dude from this Unfavored demographic with additional Unfavored features; skinhead, tattoos, waddling gait, UK accent, dreadlock hair, all Caucasian though. So... much less sun intensity today, so I suspect that this will be my last visit for outside sun tanning in keeping with the perp's sunlight/vitamin D physiologic interactions, along with brown skin of varying tones. This was the first tanning with my shaved arms, and I suspect this might be part of their color equation games as well. Now to ponder the fall and what it will bring.

A need to have a shower after dinner and then lather myself with skin creme. This is the way to have a tan persist for longer and get deeper apparently, by moisturizing one's skin and then keeping it that way with the application skin creme. A new jar of skin creme from last week, though the same brand and type. The perps seem to be still building their model of skin absorption and keep certain factors fixed; in this case, varying the packaging and contents age. Other recent games related to this is their model of water absorption through the skin; last week's lake swim was the first since 2004. Though for two other recent lake visits, including today, I somehow didn't want to swim, even if I am very comfortable doing so and swam for 13 years for 3x/week in organized practices that ran one hour until 1999.

I am going to call this one done as a early bedtime beckons after last night's disruptions and stunts to keep my awake or in a light REM sleep as it seemed. They like to distort my notion of how much sleep I get at least once per week.

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Digging for Plastic

I spent five hours digging at my perp abetting mother's place today, levelling a 20'x20' area in one corner of the backyard that the perp abetting father left undone for some curious reason. A 2' hump, even with lawn over it, does not qualify as complete. And all the more curious is these sheets of plastic, some 4'x2' or bigger, that are buried 6" to 14". I dug up two today, the fifth and sixth such burried sheets that are totally inexplicable as to why there are there. And too, buried plywood with laminate on it, a 3'x2' section, which was carefully dug up to keep it as intact as possible for ease of removal. Another WTF; as this house was built in 1967, and these plastics and laminates were not part of the house construction (I was there), where did this building debris come from?

But as we know the perps to be obsessed over plastic in all its forms, and kinds, and especially old plastic, it makes sense. Also, we know that the perps are obsessed over soil in all its facets (genesis, color, compostion (sand, silt, clay)) as well as roots, and we have a near perfect confluence of insane perp fuckery/nonconsensual research. These buried plastic sheets directed roots to grown under them or between them in the case of two buried plastic sheets from the six removed so far. And there are plenty of roots about as this digging/releveling is under 50' pine trees, and 10' from a cedar hedge. So... we have also the feature of me being under trees, then out in the open, and back and forth while I dig up this section of ground. I spent some 10 hours last week immediately adjacent sifting the compost pile last week, so the perps have a recent profile of me working under these same trees, and then outside of their canopies, then in partial tree shade.

And of course, the perps are also obsessed with me going in and out of tree canopies, in both forest and urban landscapes. Another thing they like to do is to exploit these partial shade, aka dappled light conditions, to then change the light and shadow to be like a stroboscope. And they know more than I as to what stroboscopic frequencies I don't like, and make sure I know about it. So here we have a Perfect Fuckover, a four-way confluence of perp research interest; under and partial tree shade conditions, plastics exposures, soil exposures and root exposures. Or, if one counts the adjacent compost pile (more than a cubic yard) some 6' away, then it is a five-way confluence. Perfect for adding in lawnmower neighbor noise, overhead aircraft noise (STRATCOM B-52's and local float equipped Turbo Beaver aircraft), and the dreaded trail bike motorbike noise, of equal loathing to the Harley Davidson motorcycle noise I often get. And now that I am back in my apartment downtown, why, more trail bike motorcycle noise, even getting through my earmuffs from six stories below no less. Funny how that happens, one particular kind of motorcycle noise featured all day.

Other nonsense was this morning when the wretched alterations woman in the next block didn't have them ready as promised. And for finding that out, I got the same stand-around negro dude as last week (in a "security" gaurd outfit) and an added blonde with a small dog on a leash. Obviously, they needed to build up the gangstalking from last week, as both seemed to be standing around and let me go by to the counter and ask about my garment being ready. I have no conventional reason to explain why the same negro security gaurd, as last week was loitering around this alterations shop, as the woman who runs it is pushing 60 and weighs close to 300lb, and gave up long ago on looking attractive. regular readers will recall that this same negro loitered in the doorway, back to the door, and was yacking with the alterations woman while I was waiting outside to get in. Then he gives me the stare. But today, I was to give him the stare, but he wouldn't look at me, the gutless fucker.

And some 15 min. later after the bus was 10 minutes late, I was "negroed" (aka negro gangstalkers far more numerous than the 3% of the last census statistics) with a negro woman on the bus, and then again after she departed, a negro dude came on, and from 25' away, he gives me the stare while doing a hang-dog pose. Like WTF, why are these fucking assholes staring at me all the time?

Then again on the inbound bus, coming back; a Caucasian male in a suit gives me the stare, and then artfully turns away just as I am about to return the stare. This wasn't the only staring on the bus; my three seats-away neighbor on the bus, in a commercial painter outfit, makes a move to get up just as I am about to get up, and then when I look at him to determine what the fuck he is doing, he is already staring at me, ready for this confrontation of staring as it were. This commerical painter act has been seen many times in the past three months, and I cannot image why such a trade would ever be riding the city bus. This one was all the more stupid as he was riding from suburbia to downtown at 1800h, a reverse commute, All part of the managed inanity I am forced to live in.

That is it for today, as I must get ready for tomorrow's outing in the forest in part, and then to get more tanned than ever, as it to be a full sunshine day, a rarity this summer.

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Shaved Arms

After three months of planted ideations, and at least three almost-happens, I shaved my arm hair last night, and maintained it this morning with the full frontal shave that has become the daily norm. I cannot say it does anything for me, visually at least, unlike the leg hair shaving which makes for great looking (male) legs, with the usual caveat of being kept in an environment of total perceptual fuckery/mangement. There is no question that the perps have been testing me intensely for my own sense of aesthetics in the past few years, and I am sure they can now manage it (as in remotely emulate it). What they are still working on is the Unfavored demographic group examples; e.g. skinheads, wheelchairs, waddling dudes, baggy shorts wearing dudes, bag hats and other headwear and so it goes. Presumably to remotely determine my abreactions during the days they plied their abuses and deleted my recall, thinking they had "fixed" the problem. Nossir, we now know that subconscious observations records anything and will inherit the emotional valence and good/bad determination of like prior events. Not my problem, but it is made my made to be in acute form, by way of covert/overt harassment.

And so a busy morning with bedsheet laundry to do, then I "find" that the CD's I ordered it were in my mail box despite the fact that the package tracking indictated delivery today sometime. And I noted that the lobby floor where the mailboxes are was just mopped with a still wet sheen in some places. This has to be the perp's favorite floor preparation method for a Big Event (as defined by them) after vacuum cleaning. And as the perps have been pissing with my parcel deliveries without fail for some nine years now, recieving a parcel is such a Big Event.

I might be the only person who purchases CD's these days, but is seems the perps want to keep me contained in this model rather than the rip-it-for-free (how does the artist make a living?) most of the rest of the world operates in. Even pulling off the shrink wrap from the CD is a noisestalked event, possibly because the cover shows the artist's face (Alela Diane) and viewing her image first through the shrink wrap and then without is also a Big Event.

This looks to be a housebound containment day, aka shut-in day. Such followed when I initially shaved my legs a few months ago. I am being kept company by the four CD's that arrived today. The weather is good enough to do landscape maintenance at my mother's place, but somehow I lack the initiative to get going. All these "somehows" in retrospect were perp imposed it seems, though I do not know why they arrange events and their relative importance.

More music listening, this time to Suzanne Vega, A Retrospective. I am not totally won over, but she is listenable for the most part. Not as folkie as I expected as I learned, and as the album booklet suggests.

Plenty of bookmarking web pages tonight, having "found" Rolling Stone's Greatest 500 albums of all time. Sort of, as it has a heavy rock music (aka punk, heavy metal) bias and some of the albums are anthologies that were released later. Anyhow, a rich vein to see if I am missing some essential albums of the kind of music I prefer, as in melodic with lyrics that add up to a story or statement. Now to rip the four albums to disc to build my digital library. And here we are, still in pissing matches over music file formats; WMA, FLAC, Apple Lossless. That takes planning to have something so fundamental so messed up. I wonder who would of arranged that?

Enough of the daily dulldom for this contained shut-in day, post body (arms) hair first time shave, surely today's Big Event.

Monday, August 22, 2011

A Midsummer's Rain

A high harassment Monday after departing the First Feral Family house after lunch and taking the city bus to downtown where I live. It is a rainy Monday after a week of sunshine, due to be followed by another week of sunshine. Water, in the appropriate amounts and sources, seems to be an important adjunct to the harassment/research imperative, and that of course includes rain. The perps had me fitness swimming 3x/week for nearly 15 years to 1999, but have sharply curtailed it since. As mentioned in the past blog posting, I had my first lake swim since 2004, and that was only at the second lake I visited, not the skyclad hangout. But it seems, they wanted me with the berry picking colleague for this important event, even though she is nothing to look at and has a psoriasis skin conditon with plenty of ugly blotches. I have long noted that water drops can come from nowhere and arrive nearby, and anytime I am in contact with running water one can be sure there are errant drops that somehow leap laterally opposite to the expected direction. Showers are also fraught with water flying in unexpected directions as well as having it drain off me for unusually extended durations after the faucet is turned off. And too, water main leaks and fire hydrant eruptions have a curious habit of "happening" in my proximity.

And to not forget the perps' intense interest in the water supply that feeds food crops; the farm work for the last four years has been part of it, from aluminum pipes with steel risers and brass sprinkler heads, PVC water guns, polyethelyne drip lines, hose nozzle (also hose type and color)  and perhaps long ago, watering cans. As always, the color of the pipes and sprinkler heads is imporant too. I got hit with a $5k tab to replace the steel and plastic water lines for the farm property I once owned, some 600' of white PVC line was put in to deal with a horrendous (as it turned out) leak problem that was over 660,000 gallons for three months in the winter. I reduced it to a tenth of that with the water line replacement, but I am sure the previous owner must of known it and didn't mention it. Anyhow, the water games in all their facets is still playing out and I have no idea what it all means.

The noise games continue of course; hot rods, motorcycles (though limited in the rain), heavy duty vehicles and the like. The in-town brother is on some kind of strange communication script. He was lining me up for today some three days ago to do some work for him today, and even this morning he phones at 0900h to the FFF house for me, wanted me to call back, and when I did he didn't answer his phone. When he finally called back he said he would call me in a half hour and never did. All to have "phone moments" when I first got up, before I had a shower at the FFF. Regular readers will know that I suspect phone calls, an EM disturbance brought to one's ear and mouth, are used for perp reserarch games, and of late, it seems to be all about the timing at critical junctures; after getting up, with chocolate in me, before and after showers, at the moment of gift giving, and all these high energetic transition moments. All part of the show, and of course, cell phones being the ultimate localized EMF disturbance. Why, in the news, there was a baseball fan on the phone who made a one handed fly ball catch in the stands. Talk about a made-for-the-perps moment.

I neglected to mention that while at the FFF house this morning, the gardeners arrived wearing their T-shirts (absurd, in the rain!) and began some three hours of hedge trimming. They had already been by twice in the prior two weeks leaving hedge and shrub trimming partially completed, but chose to finish this job while I was there and kept inside the house. About a week ago they arrived to trim a front yard hedge while I was in the backyard sifting the compost pile. Last year I trimmed the 60' long backyard hedge with a rented gasoline power trimming shears, but it seems this year they wanted me in the house and at least hearing their gasoline powered tools undertaking the same job. At about lunch time they put most of the cuttings and trimmings in their small pickup truck and drove off. After lunch I drove the vehicle with my mother to be dropped off at a nearby bus stop, and lo, if the garden workers weren't driving toward the house with the full load of garden trimmings. Which begs the questions; where did they go for the intervening hour with the garden trimmings, and secondly, why were they driving in the direction of the FFF house with a full truckload? But as so many of the perp games are all about landscaping, grass cutting, hedge pruning, and other landscape plant maintenance activities, this "drive around with a truckload of foliage" game wasn't too surprising. Even going back to the early Fuckover days of post 04-2002, they were stalking me with foliage laden gangstalking trucks, and even arranging nearby overnight parking of such.

Enough of the perp silliness for tonight, and onto tomorrow and to find out what nonsense they have scripted.

Sunday, August 21, 2011

Blueberry Picking

My colleague of strawberry and raspberry picking at two farms last year, and one this year, invited me to go blueberry picking today, a Saturday, as it is a day off from her horticulture classes. I hadn't been blueberry picking before, but it is decidedly cushy compared to strawberries. Blueberry picking has the attributes of stand-up picking and without the evasiveness of raspberries that grow behind leaf cover. I knew my colleague had excellent fine motor skills, backed up by her knitting and weaving hobbies, and was a decent berry picker except that she missed so many. But with blueberries, she outpicked me by almost 2:1, 60lb to my 33lb. At a pay rate of $1/lb, that adds up to a considerable difference in pay. But as I know my minders like to keep me as a klutz, I don't see berry picking as my future in any event. And sure enough, the perps made sure berries dropped from my hands or even powered them out of my hand by having them climb uphill (with no other imparted or evident energy forces), out of my hand and onto the ground. There was a border of fine wood chips at the base of the blueberry bushes so it was dificult to find dropped berries. And a grass border was between each row, making it positively cushy as what was underfoot.

And true to form, my attempt at sun tanning while picking was suddenly terminated at about 1200h (after about an hour of wearing my shorts) when picking was suddenly called off. The perps like me to only get a certain amount of sun exposure on my skin, so it seems that sun tanning is going to be limited this year. The perps have an abiding interest in Vitamin D research, skin color (melanin content) and the processes of its genesis as well as that of the physiological effects of Vitamin D. This has been the year of the most sun tanning I have done since 2004, so it seems they have decided to resume this particular research topic in substantially more detail. Hence the new "need" this year to get a base tan at the tanning salon.

And a visit to a local lake to have a post-berry picking swim. As my colleague has psoriasis, she doesn't do sunbathing, so it was more about being in the water than anything. This was the first allowed lake swim since 2004, so it must be an opportune time for the perps to re-test me on this activity.

And a stop at roadside market on the way to the swimming lake, which was a total clusterfuck of vehicles and personnel in the store. I was at this same location yesterday, as I did some driving for my mother, and "happened" to stop there, again, to a clusterfuck. More of the crossing paths they like me to do, though two days apart.

More games when I got back; laundering my clothes this time, as they had extra sand from the post berry picking beach visitation arrive on the clothes. Hence, they had some items get washed twice, and the towel only once as it somehow missed getting sand laden in the same laundry load. My running shoe footwear also got put in the same laundry load as it had some sand in them even if I did dump it all out and cleaned up my feet in the bathtub.

Then a forced nap between laundry loads, of about an hour. This then was the excuse the perps used to make me feel cognitively clobbered for the rest of the afternnoon and evening, a dull headache and muted thought with extra noisy ear-ringing, a constant noise now.

Then no more chicken in the fridge, which ordinarily been cause to make a Chicken Run visitation to the nearby supermarket, but as my shoes were still wet, I ate my sardine rations instead. Again, I don't know quite what the perps get from me eating sardines, but this one goes back to childhood.

Tonight, sudden vision perturbations, especially while reading the news of HP departing the consumer market and heading to the commercial sofware. Naturally, all WebOS afficianados are pissed, as are the Palm followers, me included. It seems they wanted to kill off WebOS and the shutdown of a premature Touchpad effort. There is no failure like a planned one, which are usually spectacular, e.g. $1.2 billion pissed away on the Palm acquisition of last year. This is reminiscent of the Flip aquisiton by Cisco, written off for a $530 million dollar bill.

Yesterday's lake swim is still the deemed reason for having differential ear pressure, and feeling quite fogged from it. This was at breakfast, but in the following shower the ear pressure differential was allowed to be relieved and the results have persisted for the remainder of the day.

Back on laundry, this time bedsheets and towels. I see the towels are getting soiled in short order, as if were from farm work, but as I am not doing any, how is it that this identical crud is getting onto the towels? Not to mention that I come out of the shower clean, without any crud on me, and somehow this soil crud arrives on my towel just as I apply the towel to dry myself.

Enough to call this a posting and wrap it up, as I will be staying at the First Feral Family house tonight, and have limited web access there.

Thursday, August 18, 2011

Compost Slinging

A male negro, seeming security personnel, was lollygagging in the doorway to the alternations shop, and gives me a stare for no reason while I was waiting for him to get himself out of the way. Like WTF; he was the twit to be standing in a doorway, and he then stares at me. Nothing like a missing apology to stoke my annoyance all the more.

Then a city bus ride to the First Feral Family house as I wanted my mother's vehicle to also pick up my paycheck at the farm I had been working at. And at the penultimate bus stop, why, a major leggy negro woman wearing high shorts stops in my path on the bus, making out that she is undecided about seating choices when there are ample avaiilble. She had a fellow negro woman wearing pants, and eventually they decided to sit 3' past me. No problem, just that I had to cross their path in short order as I was to get out at the next stop.

And sieving compost for some four hours; the third time to finish the pile (started from leaves in fall 2010, and the box, kitchen waste since spring 2011) with the usual neighborhood noise of of lawnmowers, chainsaws, overhead aircraft and hotrods and other loud mufflered vehicles that somehow find me in deep suburbia. The perps just love me to be slinging compost, as there is something elemental about it, and life itself, that interests them no end. Ms. C of the story got her master composter's certificate when I was hanging out with her 2000 to 2003, off and on. Though, it was in character and fitted in with her "earth mother" persona.

A city bus freakshow on the way back, eventually 25 or so on a Tuesday at 2000h, which is ridiculous number of passengers at that time of day and in that direction (reverse commute) There were two flushes of three talkative dudes with two young women in between, also talkative. Eventually, there were four others with me on the rear bench seat looking at their smart phone screens (LCD display). Another in front of me was a book reading dude, with another smart phone screen reading Fuckwit past him. So they had me covered in two orthogonal directions with LCD viewing gangstalkers, and an analog (book) reader on one of the directions. As mentioned in past blog postings, the medium that is being read by the adjacent gangstalker is as important as the content or the color of the display. It seems they needed to make some correlations between a book reader and LCD readers, and likely, comparing whatever else they also pump into LCD devices.

And a burqa act boarded the bus; black hooded and brown gowned, the color combination straight out of the perp color book. Thankfully this "thing" (as I term it) didn't sit within my purview, something the perps are prone to do, putting visually offensive Unfavoreds in unavoidable view.

Yesterday's early visit to downtown for lens cleaning solution, (and getting the opening hours wrong for the bookstore), was a "warm up" for today; passport office then bank ATM with a cell phoner just outside next to the window, 6' away. Then came the plastic bag rustling dude at the next ATM. The vagrant swarms were also out on the street, one needing to get in front of me, and then turn the corner ahead of me also toting his plastic bag, then to be faced with a running Asian woman coming at me.

And the baggy shorts on dudes, as well as their waddling walking; I just cannot get over this ridiculous get-up that is so unbecoming. Yes, this is a hikey-bikey town, but baggy shorts doesn't fit.

All this at 0830h and hordes of people out, almost like if there were stores open, which don't open until 1000h.

At the passport office the paint splattered dude (as in faux commerical painter), was doing the lounging/chatting act at the next passport offfice booth, adroitly dressed in the same color as my file folder in which I kept the passport documents. (Not to mention that the file folders, purchased in a box of 150 natual toned buff color (off-white), were somehow augmented with brown colored file folders. Funny how these things "happen".

And what is with the passport office; they ask me if I have any immediate travel plans and I tell them about a potential job offer in Nigeria and they don't say anything more. Only after completion of all the details and getting my reciept do I find out, upon asking, that the passport takes two to three weeks.

Back from a three hour skyclad toast in the sun, at a clothing optional lake. I hadn't been there since 2004, when the interest waned, even if I had a vehicle to get there until mid-2006. But somehow today, I got the motivation to go, even if it was taking a city bus and hiking in 25 minutes. One could suspect the perps are putting me through the same ropes as they did then, only it has taken them seven freaking years to re-test me on this facet of the life rape program. And way more dudes there, some 25 in all, and only four females at most. (Only 10 to 15 at most on weekdays back in 2004). For some reason the gender imbalance is substantially more now. But that might have been to aid them in placing at least six skinheaded males around me, and had others with their shaved testicles (like mine). The perps made sure I saw plenty of them anytime I looked around. And with the perps' light reflective games one could sense there was a theme here, one of tight skin pulled over round surfaces with some reflectivity added in. That is to say male skinheads, testicles and penis heads all got prominent billing anytime I looked around and had much the same light reflectance properties. But also, similar color properties; darker purple colored skinheads to emulate penis heads in color (and shape in part) it seemed. All too disgusting at times, so I looked away. Hopefully I will get a decent tan out of it, being there for three hours of prime suntan time, enough to fill out the lines of socks and shorts when getting at tan while standing at picking raspberries. It would seem the orientation of one's body, upright or horizontal, is also important to the perp's sunlight, skin color, vitamin D, and related immune system reactions they are so interested in. Ditto for stand up and horizontal tanning at the tanning salon.

motocycle driving sunbather dude took a whole five minutes of standing at the ladder to jump into the lake. Any excuxe for standing around.

And what is with the sudden increase of waddling males, very often in baggy shorts to below their knees? Even more of this today, though I suppose that summertime casual wear could be a viable excuse to look so ill-dressed. And too, a sudden eruption of shirtless males, even downtown for crissakes.

I got the negro gangstalker treatment once I got out of the park, and she was walking with a Caucasian blonde woman of the same age. So it would seem that they want me to get "negroed" after tanning outside.

And when walking in downtown; a "just stand-there" gangstalker; a male with his motorcycle helmet on on the sidewalk, no motorcycle evident.

Other headwear that seems to be a big part of the harassment is fedoras. Sure, they look campy on young girls, but for the rest of the fedora wearing population, apart from old men, they look absurd to me. And in the middle of the summer no less.

Off to the First Feral Family house to do some more gardening work. Likely the timing is important following yesterday's excessive sun tanning. No sunburn thankfully, and it is starting to turn brown from red, surely a high perp interest these skin color changes.

Back from toiling in the landscape of the FFF house. And it was more pruning again, first a bush and then the lavender, my mother starting the latter yesterday. The drain inspection service was there, and lo, if he couldn't get his snake/probe into the outlet section to the city, so... guess who has to dig a hole next to the foundation? The perps never lack for stunts to have me dig soil, or otherwise transport it.

The plant "pruning thing" never ends; use electric clippers, then shears to tidy up, and when switching from one to the other it becomes a big noisestalk event. As previously mentioned, the perps have an intense interest in the application of cutting tools; knives, shears, graters, pliers etc. And not forgetting agricultural applications of shearing soil at depth and running the soil through conveyors and having yours truly dig it over to pull out daffodil bulbs.

Yet again the background of increased neighborhood noise; low flying (500') aircraft, fixed wing and helicopter, hot rod muffler noise, and even some street works commotion on the adjacent street with dump trucks and maybe even paving activity.

City bus freakshow again; skinheaded males, one doing the "just stand there" rountine, now observed for the second time, where the Fuckwit stands immediately in front of their seat. In this case he had been sitting in it for half the trip (10 min.), then he gets up making like he was going to give up his seat, and only when I am at the exit do I notice that he didn't give up the seat, he just made it look that way at a busy passenger boarding moment and was standing all the time with the edge of the seat at the back of his legs. I have mentioned in the past that public transportation is nothing more than a mobile gangstalking platform.

And what is with the "offer-no-offer" games? One of my former berry picking colleagues offers me to go with her picking blueberries on both days of the coming weekend. I say sure, and then don't hear anything for three days. I enquire, and she later gets back to me saying there isn't enough picking for me to be taken on. This little scenario ended yesterday.

Then today, I get a telephone message from her asking me if I want to go out for a light snack. On the message she indicated she would call back before 1990h. It was about 1730h, and I phone back about 1800h and leave a message on her answering service. And I don't hear back from her at all. I get a plenty of these aborted offers, and it a total pain. Twice in two days is plenty from this source and hopefully the assholes will write her out of the script. This person has followed me through three employments, and was the foil to talk to me back when daffodil flower picking in February, when this horrendous looking negro would come into view. This "happened" three times in two weeks, so whoever this berry picking colleague is (in non-morph form), she seems to be an essential player, now for more than a year. . Though, she also seems to get name dropped; that is, others at the farm job would always ask about her even if they knew I wasn't very close, and didn't want to be. Time for some more interesting colleagues, especially female ones.

The Nigeria database job recruiter hasn't got back to me for four days now. I can be sure this was all about dropping African state names and invoking the negro inferences that the perps surely like to play up. There is no way the perps are going to have me earn 5x the going rate just to be placed in a negro-swamping situation.

Anyhow, enough of the loose ends, and time to post this one.

Monday, August 15, 2011

Week; Aug. 09 - 15, 2011

Farm work; weeding all day; some 40+ on bus (reverse commute) on way back at 1800h, and enough piss-offs (parking in front of me, and having hands that clutched the rail near me for no seeming reason) that I walked partway back. There was also another all time first of public stupidity on the city bus. The dude who stood in front of me while seated then went to a seat on the raised deck where I was sitting and then stood immediately in front of an empty seat for at least 8 minutes until I got off. Like WTF; he wanted a seat enough that he moved to a vacant seat, and then stands in front of the seat with his head lowered to avoid the overhead grab bar. I have never seen anything so fucking perverse as this on the city bus, but as always, there will be something.

Tuesdays are my return to farm work after a day off, and the only other excitement I can think of for the perps might of been the fact that I change to a new razor blade to shave in the morning. This would be the face and full frontal shave, separate from the leg shave that is now once per week with a different blade (3 blades instead of 2) and razor handle combination.

Another possibility for the perp's increased gangstalk intensity was that many of the street linee were repainted I noticed on the return trip (walking and city bus riding). Not only did they repaint white crosswalks in the Municipality of Sannich, but also in the City of Victoria. Effectively two separate cities somehow arranged to repaint the street lines on the same day on my route back into downtown. Simply amazing.

Farm work; picking raspberries and then was faked out by the sun coming out to take off my pants for my shorts. That lasted a whole 5 minutes, before the sun went away, and some 10 minutes later picking was called off and I put my pants on again as we were to be doing potato washing.

This odd dude with a ponytail was hanging around the warehouse for some strange reason, and lo, if he didn't "help" on the potato washing. I was on pre-wash debris removal, with two others beside me, and the ponytail act stands across from me, (normally no one stands there as they are in the path of the debris being flung from the conveyor), and participates in the potato washing line. Like WTF; I have never seen this guy before, and he doesn't know jack about what potato features are defects (he asks me), and here is is just arrived and in the middle of this job.

And I have mentioned the infernal hassles the perps like to arrange when working conveyor lines in the past, as this has occured when daffodil bulb sorting in each of the past three years. And lo, if this ponytailed dude didn't do the exact same thing; reach for objects that were under my fingers as I was attempting to grab them, contact my hands as I was reaching for things, and make a fuck up of it by hauling back items on the conveyor to then cascade over where I was looking/working.

Lunch was called afterward, and I sit at the picnic table outside the warehouse building. And lo, if this ponytailed dude didn't sit down across from me. The farmer's son's girlfriend (gorgeous looking babe) also "happens" to come by and I say my hellos and respond to her greetings. About 10 minutes later, the farmer's son comes out and introduces the ponytail act and tells me that I will be working with him to set up the stage and the tent walls. (A 60'x90' vinyl covered fabric tent canopy was installed the week before). So... I get to help him set up the stage, and he was a decent enough person that I struck up a conversation with him over the afternoon. There were some mentally retarded group at a nearby picnic table under the tent awning for a while, and another woman was doing the walk-pasts in baggy shorts, an apparent future clown performer evaluating the stage size. The ponytail guy was decent enough to give me a ride downtown to where I live. Somehow we got onto the topic of negroes, and he said one told him about negroes that were so black that they looked bluish. I said I hadn't seen any like that, not mentioning the negro gangstalking. And so when we pull into the street where I live, why, a negro is backing his vehicle out of a driveway to a below ground parkade, seeming in mid-street turnaround mode. Another negro was holding court in the lobby of the apartment building, propped up on the couch there.

Farmwork; weeding, picking raspberries until 1730h.

When I get back I return a call from a local recruiter about a database design project, and it is in Nigeria no less, and includes an ample provision for danger pay as it is in an armoured compound. A two weeks on, one week off arrangement, though I wonder how one could really have a week off for all the travelling needed. I send him resumes and references, and along the way I touch upon my nine year absence from the IT world, last year's Oracle DBMS training I took, and he is going to look into it.

So on the face of it, this kind of money they would be offering is very generous, at least three to four times the going rate. And so would the perps be sending me off to Nigeria for six months (for negro exposure swamping?) at that pay level when they have been keeping me at about $1,000/month for the last nine years? In all likelihood no. And would an IT outfit send me, nine years out of the business, to a remote project? In all likelihood no. And so, what is really about? Very likely this is about putting the notion of Africa, Nigeria, negroes in mind for a week, all part of the gratuitous name dropping that seems to be an important element in this abuse and harassment derangement. Seeing that they wouldn't let me go and work on a region Gulf Island (Gulf of Geogia) vineyard some two months back, I don't expect to be going to a foreign continent anytime soon. We shall see.

Farm work; weeding strawberries, then picking raspberries, then weeding carrots to finish off the day.

It is my last day of farm work I learn at day's end; I had been expecting this for the past week as raspberry picking was slowing down, which was the same timing when I got terminated last year. When one is relagated to the class of "berry pickers", separate from the Mexicans and the "regulars", one can be sure that as soon as the berry picking ends so does the employment. Not to fret, as I could do with some summer time off, and have yet to get this Nigerian job prospect thought through. And too, at least one Mexican was getting on my nerves by hanging around me, crossing in front or behind me, and otherwise putting on the same gangstalking moves I get on the street. Plus, the supervisor prevarications were becoming more frequent, so I could do with some relief from this insane imposition.

A Sunday night stayover at the First Feral Family house, getting my weekly dose of TV, aka, bathing in the magnetic field of the CRT TV.

This morning, I was slinging more compost at the FFF house, sieving it with the usual progression of neighborhood noise; chain saws, lawnmowers, hotrod muffler noise from adjacent streets, overhead aircraft, (even two at once at differing altitudes), not to mention the STRATCOM B-52's noise overhead, at least two in the morning.

And while putting this blog together, a sudden full screen Fuckover in the browser session. It was eventually resolved by having to launch IE from its directory as it was somehow purged from my programs list. And then killing the Mozilla Firefox session by way of Task Manager. And it is the F11 key for toggling full screen off and on, and my fingers were nowhere near it when it accidentally "happened". As it is a Monday, this is a day of increased harassment, noise, duress and plain abuse.

Time to post this and call it done. A week off as I see it, and the weather/perp machinations is cooperating to supply sunny weather, which might be enticing enough to go to the beach this week for a full-on skyclad sun tan outside. All part of the perp's games related to skin color, vitamin D and downstream effects and whatever else they are busily researching in this realm.

Today's doctor appointment was more about the weirds in the waiting room, and even one who started ahead of me outside, the Green Geriatric. He was sitting on the outside bench when I drove past to find a parking spot. Then when walking in he arranged himself to be 40' ahead, and in the waiting room when I got there. He was in a light green shirt, dark green pants, a green wide brimmed mesh hat and had a large dark green glossy paper shopping bag. And so he putz's around at the seats opposite, taking off his sweater (oddly, as it was warmer outside than inside), andwith the tissue paper in the shopping bag. This sucker is at least 6'3" and over sixty, and eventually sits down some 7' away, facing me. Meanwhile, the freakshow parade starts up, and that included the Fat Dark Woman who is the regular receptionist (blonde girl on instead), as well as the asshole case counsellor on her cell phone who screwed me out of a $7 grant in 2009. After some five minutes the Green Geriatric gets called off and within a minute, a same green color shirted younger dude in tan brown pants cruises through, gets called by a seeming case counsellor in a dark brown outfit, and then he sits down in the same seat as the Green Geriatric. Anyhow, other fat folks and weirds patrol or seat themselves, and some ten minutes after my appointment start time, the doctor calls me in. (Interestingly, no one else was during the 15 min. of wait time). The appointment was another "who cares" one, with me doing the talking and him saying squat, and I was out of there in less than 15 minutes.

I took the bus back to downtown, and had another wacko gangstalker, this time a younger woman, a major Fat Girl with breasts like suspended cantelopes  in this outfit that was straight out of some Spanish dance troupe, this at 1430h. A black front laced tight top with plenty of cleavage visible between the horizontal laces, and this frilly dress with red under-skirt projecting outward (like at tutu) that didn't quite reach her knees. On her feet she had these tall black glossy leather boots that went to just below her knees, buckles all the way up. She ended up seated nearly opposite me in the lower deck portion, in the transverse seats. Quite the sight to say the least, but worse yet, was that she had 2" high calligraphic tattoos across her chest, just over the edge of her costume. It wasn't in English even, perhaps Spanish, and truly a bizarre touch to a most extraordinary outfit. It was like she was on her way to a dance practice or something. It wasn't quite Goth, thankfully, as I have plenty of those in the long past, but none recently.

It was interesting that this particular Fat Girl had her costume laces across her ample cleavage, and was placed for me to see it when seated on the bus. This horizontal banding, or striated light patterns (or objects) is a familiar theme in the perp's lighting and staging games. Last nigh on the the TV they had striated boxes as part of the lead-in to the highlights repeat of the Will and Kate royal wedding on CBC news channel. I suppose it is a way for the perps to break down the visual scene into smaller chunks, and analyse how I interpret the whole, and whatever chunks contain the more interesting content, i.e. cleavage.

Monday, August 08, 2011

Week; Aug. 02-08, 2011

Picking raspberries at the farm, then pick weeds in the carrots, but everyone but me and the dippy black haired Caucasian (I think) girl got called to clean potatoes. But after 20 min., we too got called in to help cleaning potatoes, like this was a set up of incrementat introductions. And lo, if the conveyor belt didn't go squeakiy, which then served as the excuse for one Mexican and one turban wearing Punjabi to putz around me. And do I know that squeaky conveyor sound, having sorted daffodil bulbs in the prior three years? Also a flattened cardboard box was placed near me for no reason after potato washing was done.

Farm work again; raspberry picking, strawberryt picking, potatoe washing (production line), weeding, wash more potatoes. Possiblly all to keep me wearing my pants over my shorts, as the weather didn't cooperate for me to wear shorts while raspberry picking. This seems to be a big deal of late, along with the "need" to get a tan on my legs. I got fooled into thinking it would be tanning weather this morning so I put my shorts under my workpants. But the clouds closed in and so no tanning possibilities. So it would seem, along with the perps' underwear fetish/control, that they wanted to work me through many different jobs today, with shorts under my pants which were worn all day long.

Picking strawberries, then pick raspberries and then weed strawbs while rest of crew, save the raven haired girl and an add-in girl from the farm market store work nearby. They seemed to be paired for some reason, and the add-in girl isn't a farm worker as she works in the store only. Then I was working  on the potato washing conveyor line,  with the exact same hassles as past conveyor work at another farm jobsite. The person next to me was frequently obstructing my access to getting the items off the conveyor. The perps like to set up these fucking games where someone grabs something I was set to grap, and the offending co-worker makes no bones about not being unapologetic. In another stunt, when I was walking the farm road between the potato line and the raspberry patch, the supervisor drives by in her BMW within 12" of me for no fucking reason, as there was at least 4' of road width availible to her with no obstructions or potholes. And it seemed to be a set up, as an oncoming vehicle was stopped and waiting some 80' away, with headlights on. And we do know how the perps like to put TI's in lighted conditions, except this time it was in broad daylight and with the asshole supervisor pulling this stunt, surprising me from behind by driving so absurdly close. Fucking rude.

My missing watch was found by the farmer's son, though he didn't explain how he did so.

I got to wear my shorts while picking raspberries today, but the tan line came out all wrong by dint of of some perp fuckery, 6" further down my leg than the bottom of my shorts.

Evening beam-on-me games from the E. apartment towers in turn. The Pink Tower was beaming me when in my apartment for the prior 40 min. prior to going to the LD store. And when entering and exiting the store, why, the Pink Tower faux reflections were beaming on me there.

Another new jerkaround at financial transaction time was a reflectance off the card reader panel that was strobing. Don't I get enough stroboscopic fuckery (dappled light through trees) in any given day? Seemingly not. The dudes in their baggy low cut shorts were out and about, and I suppose this is seasonal wear, not unlike six months ago when this "dress code" was prevalent among the male gangstalkers.

Picking strawberries after an hour of potato washing work on the conveyor line. And for raspberry picking I was given S. side row picking, excellent for leg tanning while wearing shorts. And a decent tan too, to the top of my shorts this time.

On the city bus ride freakshow ride home; a bald (skinheaded), baggy shorts wearing male in commercial painter chic, having paint splats on his shorts, shirt and hands (what commercial painter takes the city bus for crissakes?, and what commerical painter wears shorts on the job for crissakes?). Said dude plants himself in front of me for most of the bus  ride.

A tanning session tonight, and lo, if the stalkers aren't in place once I exit.

A little more evening time as I left work at 1600h, per sort-of prompting from the prevaricating supervisor. She said that everyone was going to stop at 1530h, and I said I would too. And at 1600h we were still picking weeds in the carrots, which had begun at 1515h after picking raspberries since about 0900h. After finishing a section of weeds and meeting up where someone had weeded ahead of me, I decided that 1600h was plenty enough. As expected, whenever I finish something a confluence of noise and co-worker/gangstalking action erupts. The strangest was a flock of Canada geese overhead, flying only 20' above the field and them divebombing each other and squawking in a sorting out their V-formation territorial/status positions. Then one of the Mexicans who took off 15 min. earlier for no seeming reason returned as I was packing up, essentially in lead-ahead gangstalking mode.

Then at the warehouse, some 4 minute walk away where I clocked out, two Mexican workers were also posted there. In addition was a red welder's service truck, "putting on the red", and I assume, serving as a color reference inside and out as it was parked broadside to the open garage door to the warehouse. The two Mexicans coursed around me as I changed up my boots for my street shoes and put on my coat. Withouth fail, someone is hanging around or over me whenever I change my footwear there, and all the more so since I now leave my heavy hiking boots there and wear my street shoes commuting. All last year, and for the past two months, I wore my hiking boots to work and back, only exchanging them for gumboots if it was wet out.

I was slinging compost for most of the day at the First Feral Family house, putting it through a sieve and piling the sieved material, the screenings and coarse debris separately. And another pile for the plastic trash that somehow gets in and I am compelled to remove. I got screwed into a 10.5  hour sleep at the FFF house and was witness to my perp-abetting mother digging in the compost pile ahead of me when I was at breakfast. She explained that it was to put some on top of the active food compost pile, in an adjacent box, but as she did such a poor job of it I assumed it was more of a "pre-stalk", going through the exercise ahead of me. Funny, I hadn't told her I was going to do the compost until she came back in the house.

I got my regular fly-overs from aircraft, and the neighbor noise of chainsaws and leaf blowers. The stream of hotrod muffler noise was duly started up while I was outside. I didn't finish the job of screening the large composte heap today. This was due to a smaller sieve that "showed up" three years ago when in the prior year there was a larger one and I was making good progress with it. I asked my mother who took the larger sieve and supplied a smaller one and she blew me off. And of course, as the perps have such an insane interest in compost, and sieving it through metal screens, it makes more sense that they fucked with the sieve to slow down the job. Which is what they routinely do for all activities; slow or disrupt work all the time, especially infrequent ones. It makes one wonder about the larger context and to the level of engineering jobs and projects, and problems they have over work completion.

A city bus freakshow ride into downtown, and lo, if the commercial painter act wasn't doubled up this time. The dude with paint splats on his clothes and then on his hairy legs, one of those fuckwit dudes that "needs" to wear shorts no matter how ridiculous it is. This dude went through four relocations on the bus, one being a "buddy" chat with the driver, then back to his original seat, and then on sentry duty for three stops before he got out. Just before he made his trip back to his seat, why, another painter dude got up from his seat and went to the rear door before his exit from the bus. Like WTF; this is totally absurd to have these paint splattered tradesmen (har, har) on a city bus, and then to have two on one trip, and then to have two such events (per above) in one week. Who writes these absurdities?

I got screwed out of my Monday tanning session by two minutes; the place was locked up. And that was caused by getting screwed out of attending to my laundry soon enough, as the bedsheets were in the dryer, and I pulled them out beforehand to get the bed made up. No regular habit/appointment goes unfucked for long.

I stopped in the LD store on the way back and was treated to my freakshow at at the chocolate, with at least one Asian man on his second gangstalking in recent months in idential circumstances. I got a three negro loose cluster gangstalking outside and inside my apartment lobby. One sauntering female negro in purple for crissakes some 30' ahead and coming toward me, then suddenly a negro dude in white and red steps into view, apparently exiting from the lobby, and on the inside, the regular lollygagging negro holding court on the couch was at it again, talking to an Asian male. I got screwed out of the elevator for the third time in a week, reading "M" when I went to press the button, why it took off for an upper floor request. Taking the stairs for six flights isn't too much of a bane as I do it quite often now to avoid the gangstalk clusterfucks in the lobby that seemed to be stacked with freaks from the Unfavored classes.

I got a telephone message from a person with a very robotic and uninterested monotone voice, indicating that they are interested in having me in  for an interview, making reference to my past work history with an aircraft maintence firm. So I look up this outfit, and they are a financial services outfit. Translated, it spells bullshit call, though I will return the call to find out if I am dead wrong, a state the perps like to put me into very often.

Enough of the routine and onto posting this blog for the week.

Monday, August 01, 2011

Week: July 26 Aug 01

Picking raspberries until 1330h, then weeding the strawberries in the next field. I used my Felco #8 pruners, and lo, if the perps didn't fuck them by popping the spring off in tall grass never to be found again. Yet another sabotage event to recover from, finding the time to get these small parts from specialty retailers. All to play the perp's fucking games of changing up the energetic signature of the near-new tool that I now carry in my backpack each day.

A wacko inbound bus ride after work; all the freaks were there. A 350lb Fat Boy, a carmine colored turban, three negroes, bus aisle blocker who blocked me from getting a seat for some strange reason (so she could park her exposed and unadorned (thankfully, no tattoos) back to me it would seem). It was standing room only, and that means over 35 passengers, which is absurd at 1730h going into downtown on a Tuesday evening.

The apartment manager was hanging around my front door in the hallway when I was returning with clean damp laundry in hand to hang dry. He said hello, and I returned the greeting as I wasn't sure who he was at first. Then two hours later I see that someone signed for my UPS delivery, and not knowing if it was the apartment manager or not, I phone him to ask and he says he has it in the office. Like WTF; why didn't he say anything earlier when loitering in the hallway and showing off his tattoos in the dim light? So it would seem he was directed to "pre-stalk", that is, gangstalk a location he is going to return to in earnest for a legit mission, delivering the fucking parcel. Even at that, he could of said something then. Why are so many people I engage with so fucked in the head?

2115h Then the Fuckwit manager delays his delivery of my parcel past my 2100h bedtime. The insane and orchestrated hassle over pacel deliveries never ends.

More Fat Girls on the bus, two at the bus stop, and lo, I get exposed to cleavage again. Maybe it is just a summertime thing, but I definitely get more than my usual fill.

And what is it about motorcycles that the perps need to plant them for me to see or hear at 0630h when on the bus? And continued noise in the distance all day long, at least 1/ two minutes, sometimes one after the other for five minutes? And plenty of aircraft flyovers today. A Sea King came directly over after lunch, low and slow and some kind of black emanations coming from it.

Tuesday seems to be a big gangstalking day as I start a new razor insert in the morning, shaving face and front with it. Also, the bedsheets have been laundered the night before, and it is the first sleep on them. Also, one day after a sun tan salon appointment, which seems to cause to instigate greater gangstalker coverage, especially immediately following.

I picked raspberries until 1400h, then weeded until 1630h - similar as yesterday. and same freakshow on the bus, heavy on tattoos, though I got a seat to start with, unlike yesterday's charade.

The parcel delivery nonsense is finally over; I phoned the aparment manager at noon to give him permission to enter my apartment to leave the parcel there. The other parcel was in my mailbox to my surprise. So.... two parcels via different shippers arrive today, all from one order. Exciting games for the perps no doubt seeing how often they pull similar hassles over parcel deliveries.

I weeded pumpkins underthe powerline, until 0930h, then pick raspberries to 1330h, then back to weeding pumpkins. Wore shorts for the first no-cloud day, and got tanned. Combinations of shirts, footwear and work activity continue; in hiking boots all day today, even if in shorts. Other variations have been street shoes when picking raspberries which I had formerly studiously avoided, then wearing shorts under the black long pants as no sun came out despite early encouraging forecasts. Variations on the shirts have been the tan-through shirt, the SPF sun block shirt and blue and grey T-shirts.

The city bus freakshow continues; skinheads, tatoos. Ditto at the local supermarket; the female cashier was the worst one of all with tattoos on her arms and onto the back of her hands.

The morning-time city bus negro (the male, though a tail-me-off-the bus female gets on too at the same stop) is stepping up his seat swapping games again. That is, when I am waiting at the rear doors for my stop as the bus approaches it, he changes seats to sit in my seat, still warm. This the second time in a week this Fuckwit Negro has done this, and the third in the past month. He wasn't doing it last year for crissakes, no seat moving whatsoever.

Pounding bass music noise when I got back from work, and from the local supermarket visitation. The pounding also continued into the evening andhas been playing 80% of the time for the last hour.

Another male skinhead dude on bus, this time the Fuckwit sat next to me. It was so disgusting it was that I looked away the entire bus trip. Thankfully he got off one stop earlier. Then later in the evening at the LD store, an incomparable all-time fugly combination after my tanning session; a skinhead at the counter I needed to go to and tattoos over his head and down his neck. A fucking disgusting sight, and one that was used in the MKULTRA projects to reference head regions over multiple study/survey sessions.

No shorts wearing while doing farmwork today, as seeming "recovery day" for the perps, needing a day of no leg exposure to the sun after a tanning session the evening before. Endless games and combinations continue in the perp's vitamin D, skin exposure, skin color and other downstream physiological processes and effects, not the least of which is titanium dioxide nanoparticles in the sunblock.

Picking raspberries in shorts, and finally getting my legs tanned finally from the sun. A bit of an irony, as some 15 tanning session in the salon did not have me get my legs tanned. Though to be fair, it did prepare my skin for an even and painless full-sun tan, as otherwise my skin would of seriously burned as I somehow "forgot" to put sunblock on.

Picking raspberries and then weeding was suddenly announced when only five minutes into picking a new row. This is almost the rule now; afternoons are suddenly prempted to pick weeds after picking fruit, and timed to when I have just begun a new row, sometimes with the afternoon break timed immediately beforehand. This seat-of-the-pants task assignment isn't anything new to this farm, though it certainly aids the perp's games of having me start and stop activities.

I am still the social leper at lunchtime especially; Mr and Mrs Punjabi sit some 150' apart with me somewhere in the middle, a most curious arrangement and one they never did before. The eight Mexicans, who claimed they wanted to learn English from me, also sit apart, usually 40' or so. The only other local is a Caucasian girl with deep black hair, but she isn't too talkative and seems totally scared for no reason that I can discern. In fact, I thought she was fired last week for not picking well, but for some reason she came back and all was forgiven/forgotten. I thought the "firing" was bogus in the first place; I was told to re-pick her row and I picked 16 more pint boxes. I never heard the supervisor say anything to her, and she was on the other side of the row. More strange behaviors and events, nothing new in this constant stream of FUD.

And too, the coworkers "drift-away" games again; This stop-picking and start-weeding sequence was taken one further when everyone started to depart in ones and twos, apparently for carrot digging, and within 30 min. of the said-to-be work ending time of 1630h. I was the only one left weeding, and I went to 1700h, and lo, no one else had clocked out, presumably they were on carrot digging still. Like I mention, the work duration, work end time, work task/crop can change in an instant. But it was interesting that they all "filtered out", something my mother and in-town brother have been doing for the last two years, having arrangements to take them elsewhere while I am at their place usually doing garden maintenance work such as weeding, pruning, soil sifting and all those horticultural activities the perps so like me to do.

A statutory holiday called British Columbia Day, for a long weekend in the summer for the regular working folks. Being a sometime farm hand, it doesn't matter squat as the weeds and fruits are growing all the same and must be dealt with. But it is my regular Monday off, having stayed at the First Feral Family house last night. And I was duty bound to put up more steel mesh fencing to prevent the deer from invading the backyard, as they had done so yet again for the two prior days. This after two weeks of no deer invasions, and lo, if they don't strike when my perp-abetting mother somehow forgets to put the row cover over the crop plants (tomatoes, beans, peas) she was protecting each day.

And too, I got to act on a perp suggestion of boring the two fence post holes with a pressure washer, borrowed from the in-town perp abetting brother. And wonders never cease, it actually worked, as I ddin't need large  holes for the steel posts, some 2" wide at most, save the spade portion near the bottom. And lo, if one of the fence post holes, some 4" in diameter roughly, didn't encounter one of my father's "rock resevoirs", these pits he created when preparing the landscaping to bury the rocks he raked up. Or, at least in part, as I did much of the lawn raking back then, 1967-68.

More wacko tattoos on the bus again. A skateboard dude with tattoos down his leg that was exposed by his baggy shorts. The skateboard was held behind his leg as some kind of reference/energetic source (carborundum of the non-slip surface), and he often kicked his leg into the aisle to get more "activity" from his tattooed leg. And the baggy shorts epidemic continues in this dumbhit town, though it is summer. But it seems the perps need to show me lots of hairy male legs of late, as well as baggy shorts. And this is combined with the sudden "need" for me to shave my legs and in doing so, "new-found" admiration for them. And too, there are the odd female legs introduced into the city bus show for me to admire, gleaming and shaved of course.

Enough, it is past my bedtime of 2100h, and to get this posting published for another week.