Saturday, November 26, 2011

Slack Saturday

Another high-intention low effort outcome day, predictably on a Saturday like last week. I wonder if the perps plant for most everyone else to be busy, but keeping me concurrently contained. Last Saturday was a major shut-in day when I diden't get out at all. Today I was out and about some in the morning and then by 1100h after the manager came by to tell me he couldn't find the keys for the storage lockers downstairs, I was shut-in. They even had me nap for 1.5 hours on the just laundered bedsheets and top blanket, after delaying the drying with a never-before forced "forget", even with the bed apart only 4' away. The arranged two dryer cycles, the first left in place for 2 hours after once hour of drying was insufficient, and then again at 1300h, finishing at 1340h. That laundry games go on all the time isn't new, just the variations of their research games.

Last Saturday was athe 80th anniversary event of my old high school when I was kept shut-in all day, even getting celebrity attendance of two former students if you follow the link and here. So all those graduates of the past 80 years who were attending were getting ready and participating while I was kept in place the whole day and evening. It might be related, these concurrent levels of widely different activity between me and the rest of certain populations. There are no coincidences in my life, that is for sure.

I attempted to play an Blu-ray disc and Windows Media Player won't play it for crissakes. The vacuum cleaning noise and activity started up just before this hassle began, and has now moved in outside my door while I have the headphones on. At this time, on a Saturday, when they never clean this apartment building. Amazing coincidences all the time, especially with vacuum cleaners.

Fifteen minutes later the vacuum cleaner is still running outside my door with some on/offs (read, EMF spikes) as part the perp harassment tactics. All the while I am reading to discover there is no free Blu-ray software out there and the wretched Windows 7 won't natively play it. Just ridiculous. Now, a DVD won't play unless the assholes keep the subtitles in place, when the film (Moulin Rouge) is in English. So much for watching a movie tonight on this wretched Windows box.

And the perps have shut down my movie viewing nearly 100% since 2003; I have only seen three in the past year, and none before then. I have no idea why they see the need to choke me down on movie viewing when I have so much time to piss around. Though, the next four weeks I will be busy at a forest seedling nursery.

More reading of a book, Bobby and Jackie, a love story by  C. David Heymann. A page turner of a book for sure, and finally someone shed some light on this that other biographers would not. As the book indicates, it was likely the most normal and loving relationship either had experienced. Worth a read if you are into 1960's history; I was in primary and junior high school then. Now that I read the amazon reviews I see there are many doubters as to the veracity of this book. Hard to know, but it fits the pattern of the central players.

Off to post this, and hoping I don't get any more strange dreams like last night; repeated scenes of destruction and interactions with personnel about data loss. It came across as very real, and now, the perps can over-ride my ability to bail out on strange dreams, and keep me in it.

Tree Seedling Handling

I see my email got hacked again, and a message that purports from me, "Hola, friends", did not come from me and there are no records of it in my Sent box. I changed my password, as I see it was a hack from a few days ago, and I am hoping this bullshit is over.

Thats my new job for the next four weeks, handling tree seedling plugs and wrapping them in in bundles with shrinkwrap. It is about the easiest job I have had in horticulture, my new imposed career courtesy of my perp masters, when they allow me to work of course, which hasn't been full time. When they did their "shock (literally, in more than one way) and awe" high abuse onset in 04-2002, they didn't let me work at a job until 2008, and that was picking daffodil bulbs for two months.

And some 30 to 40 people on this afternoon shift, though today it was orientation and a warm-up. And yes, the freak count was high, though to be fair, there are three native Indian reserves nearby, and they count for some half of the crew in all their corpulent variety, as well as facial features like missing teeth, vacant stares, and even one fucker doing the "come at me" walk, and then averts at the last moment. Fucking bizarre I get this all over town and now at work. Just like last year and the Fugliest Negro coming at me for no reason.

Other freaks from the Unfavored demographic groups are a skinhead, elder dudes, the crack case like hoodie dude, and a negro woman, one who I met in 2008 at the farm job, and conversed with her enough to tell her this tale of woe. Today, she treats me like a leper, avoiding me twice and then barely saying hello, which is straight out of the perp playbook, friendly people going unfriendly. She pulled this stunt earlier this year at a bus stop where I was, wallking straight past me, looking deadset forward and pretending not to notice me 2' away. Just more of the usual bizarre antics the perps command in my proximity.

I had a notion she would be there, through a supposed mutual former co-worker who I email every fe days and will help move her out of her house next weekend, not tomorrow. On the way to the bus stop today, a negro dude was talking to himself and wearing a long skirt just to add to the show. Then on the bus a negro woman on the cell phone the whole 25 minute trip, so one can see that I was "negro-ed" in advance of getting to my perp abetting mother's place to then borrow her vehicle to get to the tree nursery. A negro stalking prior to working with a known-before negro.

And a legs and nut shave last night, and the perps always go extra beserk the next day, and today was no exception. They seem to like me doing this on Thursday nights for some reason when it was Saturday nights for three months prior. This leg shaving started in June as part of getting my legs tanned, surely a perp planted vanity notion as I never particularly cared what my legs looked like as I wore long pants al the time. But as all male features and comportment styles are getting exposed in all their facets, bare hairy legs, beards, shaved heads, hairy arms, waddle walking and the like, it would seem the perps did not want me to share in them this year by me looking at my own legs. So... this sudden vanity streak erupted in June this year (2011), along with a "need" to have short spandex shorts for the summer, and nothing to do with the fugly below-knee baggy shorts male parade I see all the time, and even now with the cold wet weather.

I picked up a parcel on the way there, a brown cardboard one, and lo, if the vehicular gangstalking on the way to the tree nursery didn't feature a large cardboard box in the pickup ahead of me, and accompanying vehicles to box me in to prevent me from passing the fucker.

Said parcel had a Peltor earmuff hygeine kit; replacement earpads and sound dampening foam. And for the second successive occasion, the earpads didn't quite fit, being 3mm too large in diameter, but identical in the symetrical oval shape. The previous replacement set were 2mm too big. So... I take the new foam insert and stuff it into the earmuff cup along with that I had on hand, and have tossed two new sets of earpads out. I just don't seen the point of these fucking games, pissing with my earmuffs which I have on my head most of the time, adding in new foam (three per earmuff cup now) and getting stiffed with the old earpads that are splitting up. Besides, the ringing noise in my head is just as bad, and if the perps want to punch a particular noise through to my ears, they can bypass the earmuffs altogether and deliver the exact noise at their prescribed volume, which is often the same as without the earmuffs on.

I see that the Dymo twin label printer is flashing one of its two blue lights that are normally constant. So I look under the lid and I see yesterday's file folder label that got stuck is gone altogether, as I couldn't pull it out in either direction and gave up. I attempted to reload the file folder label spool, but no, it fucked up and the label loader motor wouldn't take it. More things to repair, but different than I left it last night.

Something from Rachael O hits a nerve today:
Being targeted has forced me to be such a loser and surrounded by people I would not have chosen to be around. ...I am forced to depend on people who are not really interested in winning, just maintaining.
Oh my, how I could write volumes on the dipshits I have been saddled with over my years as MC slave/abusee. Yessir, yet another part of the gangstalking/harassment/abuse scene is surround reasonable intelligent people with utter dumbshits. Not that I am comparing intelligences to my fave TI-in-arms, but it has been a very common perp theme, and all the more now since the day of infamy came on me in 04-2002. My in-town brother has had a starring role, and burnished at little more today when he "happened" to be at the First Feral Family house on the PC when I arrived there today to borrow my perp-abetting mother's vehicle.

Every few months he gets tasked by my mother in concert with me, to remove landscape vegetative matter like weeds, cut branches and any weedy or non-compostable matter (too woody). He grumps about it, but has the perfect vehicle to remove it readily, a white trades van. It usually takes him weeks to come by, and by then it has been doused with rain water, soaked some, even if it is in plastic bags. And so he complains that it is wet. Like WTF; pick it up right away so it doesn't get wet. Then he launches his hoary master excuse for everything, "I don't have enough time". Well, as it turns out, he was a totally focussed garage sale trover outside his day job, wheeling and dealing all over town and knows the entire street map of this town in his head. A year ago, for some obscure reason (read, perp managed), he takes up kick boxing to initiate fitness for the first time at 51 y.o. Commendable, and he goes 3x/ week regularly. So he found time to do this regular activity, and in doing so, blows a mighty hole in his stock excuse for inaction, "I don't have enough time". I reminded him once about this logical disjunct a few months ago and expected that would be the end of this 20 year long excuse he trots out. But no, he brings it up again, and I remind him of how he brought kick boxing into his life, and I let it go at that. He is like a stuck record/CD, even if he has no defensible and logical rebuttal. How can one have a discussion, enlightened arguement with a logical cripple? One cannot, ergo, another loser/go-nowhere person in my existence.

That he lost one eye in an accident of some kind, only he was there, when aged two from the perps (IMHO) doesn't seem to disuade him from his present perp-abetting rut he lives in. The reason I maintain the perps did it, is that in this totally perp managed family, with abetting parents from the get-go, there is absolutely nothing that happens that is an accident. Also, I get vision perturbations and hacking every waking minute, often one eye, then the other with strange focussing or double vision, always momentarily. And given that the eye socket and eyeball size has reached maximum size by age two, I suspect the perps knew exactly when to pull this stunt off in expected support of them covertly investigating me at that juncture, aged seven then, and ever since. I point out to my brother that the perps likely gouged his eye out and here is abetting them. I also point out that the perps are likely depressing him, and messing with the muscle/tendom problems he has, and that he should go and ream his handler's ass to get the real story on how much he is getting fucked. But no, he just mumbles something, and carries on as this feckless quisling. I suppose my problem is that I am motivated, won't ever accept the status quo, and am principled. And I get saddled with two brothers and parents who just aren't up to this standard of human interaction, (or pretend to be, or are managed to be). Maybe one person in my working career was intellectually interesting and shared my sense of motivation and dispair over the feckless, the liars, the goofs, and the rest of the tawdry lot I have been stiffed with as part of this perp managed life, down to the last gnat fart within 10 miles of me. Even last year's TI meeting in Nanaimo was an exercise in consorting with the idle-minded (or else constrained), save one with some spark in her. They didn't initiate any discussions, they didn't ask what was happening for me, they were in passive mode nearly all the time, if not in hang-dog pose, and one even came in to sit close with her back turned on me, the classic shit I deal with on the fucking gangstalker cruiser, the city bus freakshow, every week or more. So the entire event was arranged IMHO, though maybe not all of the dialog was scripted perhaps. I am not even allowed a free-form discussion and interaction with the regional TI community when I get to meet them in person it seems.

Well maybe one more was an interesting person in the past 20 years, and that was Ms. L of the story, whom I met at the Seattle national ADD conference in 2001. She was funny at times, a joy to be with except when she was hungry and then things deteriorated very fast. And she was making, it seemed, an honest effort to deal with her ADD issues, if not a little too excessive and quirky at times. In short, we clicked, and had similar interests, and were mutally supportive in our ADD issues, web research discoveries, attending cultural events etc. So... a week before the perps invade my apartment and out themselves as overt abusers, escalating it of course, Ms. L is off to New York. We talked on the phone long distance once that week, and it wasn't the best call I had from her, as she was so emotionally wracked from seeing the 9/11 destruction. Understandable, and we expected to meet up when she got back soon. But then a day or two after the Day of Abusive Infamy struck, the next call I got from her was that she was back in Seattle (she said). I conveyed what went on with the apartment invasion and all the real world things that happened and their continuing physical presence as well as the new (to me then) gangstalking, and she lapsed into this new familiar bullshit about seeing my doctor. I gave her some more examples of what was going on, she got all testy, and then hung up. I never heard from her again when she was a supportive person and that it was totally out of character for her. So ended the second instance of a motivated person I have met in the past two decades, though in fact, the whole ending had to be scripted. Whether she was an act, or whether she was genuinely ADD with some emotional amplititude problems I have no idea. But it is profundly clear in hindsight that the perps wanted to build up this mutally empathetic and supportive relationship and then suddenly jerk it away, never to replace it since of course. So yes Rachael, it is lonely as a questing TI, and that situation is managed to a significant degree by the perps down to even a fleeting empathic smile from a bank teller. Never mind anything more meaty or engaging than that.

Back to Rachael O's post today; I love her pithy, lucid and objective analysis as she skewers the pathetic, indolent and the complacent; "Peacable loving people piss me off after a while". Hmm, maybe I will get to meet her sometime and form our own principled TI group. A joke.

And here we have TI-lite, not meant in any way to diminish, deride or deny the absolutely atrocious experiences of JK Rowling (author of the Harry Potter books) as conveyed to the ongoing public  Leveson Inquiry about abuses by the press in the UK. Why yes, I am harassed and gangstalked in public all the time, followed and surveilled as well. It is much the same as a TI, except the public pictures and stories in the newspapers; "besieged", "hostage", "drove ..out" of one's home, "watching you", "unjustifiably intrusive" etc. all apply, all the time as a TI. But it is MUCH, MUCH WORSE for TI's; one's cognitive and physical abilities are being remotely dithered and hacked and messed with, and one's life is a scripted charade 24x7. And that is not all; one's entire physical world is altered to make it constantly adverse as well as strange; telekinesis and teleporting objects, mostly lint, crumbs, threads and water drops are in constant abundance and take trajectories that are often unconventional. I sometime's wonder if celebs and whomever the press chooses to invade isn't also a perp concocted arrangement so they can keep a spectrum of life invasion and disruption going as part of their nonconsensual human experimentation/research imperative.

Anyway, too much pondering tonight, and time to post this.

Thursday, November 24, 2011

Almost a Shut-In Day

A nearly total shut-in day, with only an excursion to the Apple store a two min. walk away to look at a certain gift for my daughter, the ex supplying me a list a few days ago. I enter and there were three dudes on their laptops at the counter, seated and conversing, but an attractive young female assistant came to my aid. The perps had me dithered big-time, as she asked me what size, and I said something to the effect that I didn't know there was a choice in physical size, as I had already checked them out on Amazon, and there was only one "size". Then she explained to me it was the storage size. Like WTF; I could of figured out her open ended statement on my own, but no, some asshole had to me me look like an idiot. Then it followed that there was another blatant faux pas over being able to identify the green colored one, and I knew I was getting totally screwed. The prices were substantially lower than I expected; online, the 16Gb model is $234.40, but it was $150 at the Apple store, cheaper by $10 than the online Amazon price for the 8Gb model. I am glad for bricks and mortar stores many times, and all the more when so substantial savings are to be had. Though, it isn't true for books though, as I came to find out last year.

Back to the Apple store; the pink color wasn't to be had but could be ordered in, and it would take two weeks the assistant found out by asking the male Middle Eastern looking manager. On two occasions I offered to pay the full amount instead of a deposit to order one, but still she persisted in charging me only $20. Part of the ritual was that I had to give my name, address, phone number, email etc. and I had navigated around the three dudes at this point, only getting access at the counter corner, at the sharp end of the "L" elbow. The dudes were on my left, and getting louder while I gave the assistant this information, making for at least three repeat agains, either she or me "mis-hearing" (read, situational dithering of aural cognition), three times, and having me speak substantially louder than I thought was needed. A younger blonde woman came to my right, around the corner of the counter, 90 degrees offset, 3' away and stood there sort of dumbstruck for some 20 seconds or so, as she didn't have any engagement with anyone else. Then she puts on a deep furrowed black toque on her blonde hair, and then departs from the store. I have seen these black furrowed toques many times in the harassment/gangstalker games, and all I can surmise is that they are to emulate the most disgusting hairdo style ever, dreadlocks. The perps have been hounding me with this infernal hairstyle, deeply Unfavored, and it just maybe that they deem black touques with woven furrows as a "beginners guide" to finding out why I absolutely loathe dreadlocks hair. That it has been a 9.5 year obsession of the perps seems to relate to when they deleted my recall when aged two to five, and stuffed negroes in with other children as seen in the Indian Lake Project. Not my problem, so why is it an international fuckover that seems to command thousands of pyschopathic assholes to hound me in two countries for close to ten years of their abusive insanity?

Don't know. Back to the above financial transaction in the Apple store. I get this very different debit card reader, which gets passed to me after I profer my debit card, and I key in the approvals and account details, and look up, and lo, if the dude closest to me hasn't moved one foot closer and has turned his back some 45 degrees. Like WTF; why is making a financial transaction an internation Fuckover scene that has lasted over 9.5 years? Early in the intensified abuse days of 2002, I would get these dudes,  who were not obviously shopping, plant themselves 2' from me with their back toward me, looking away, and not even pretending to be in a checkout line, but adjacent and blocking the aisle. Even then, it was WTF, and where did this asshole come from and why is it repeating every fucking time I buy something in public? And although more subtle and calmer now, the same senseless charade of inanity continues, often with plenty of background banter, or asking me extra questions at the checkout, or even now, dumbshits loitering at the checkout exit with the excuse it is to wait for their friends of the same brown skinned features at an adjacent checkout, (Asians being the last-most post-checkout ethnic/race swarm to date). Alternatively, there are various Unfavored color (red, pink, orange, yellow, brown) dressed Fuckwits ahead or behind me, not to mention their favorite public fruit prop, bananas on the checkout belt.

And then the third stunt that was also in progress as the transaction progressed was the Middle Eastern manager kept coming to intervene for some inconsequential purpose, at least twice. This was a minor repitition of a certain Middle Eastern fat boy who constantly stalked me at the 2007-2008 2x/week exercise class. Only then did I understand that this particular ethnic appearance was its own Unfavored demographic group. Another notable gangstalking moment earlier this year was having the Middle Eastern store assistant due hide behind the store assistant babe (Caucasian) each time I looked. Like WTF- what is this litany of imposed fucking stupidity all about?

But too, the male-female bait and switch games at the checkout have been going on in earnest since 2002. The babe as the cashier usually starts out, and then a "shift change" suddenly happens with the dude coming in to finish the job. This time, it was the Middle Eastern male doing the honors of "popping in and out", getting face time while the transaction was in progress. More rampant stupidity, but wholly predictable.

The visitation and transaction wasn't any longer than 15 minutes, and so ended my big outing for the day. I got to my mail box on the way back (read, as in no one standing over it), and saw that my college registration papers had arrived in an envelope that had not been sealed; the flap was open, partially folded, and no attempt had been made to seal it. It isn't the first time that my mail has come this way, and it didn't pass unnoticed that they had me purchase a box of self-sealing envelopes which I still have, for the few times I send anything in the mail. No licking envelopes allowed, per imposition of the secret police.

I am now registered to take the Viticulture Certificate program in Pentiction, British Columbia, Canada, starting Jan. 09. That is where I will be moving to by the end of December, the first time they have had me move in over four years (4 years, 7 months), the second longest residence in any one location that they have allowed me, ever. It runs for three months, and for the second time in 9.5 years, they are sending me off to class.

Hopefully the outcome will be a full time job and not a total jerkaround like it was when I finished the Oracle DBA evening courses in 2009. And too, back in 1990, I took a year off work and took ten months of full time Geographic Information Systems (GIS) training, to get sidelined (ahem) for the next nine years on Oracle database software development, a project that took three iterations to defy the pervasive incompetence I got saddled with. I was never able to re-establish my GIS credentials. This is the most flagrant example of getting trained up and then totally derailed and fucked with so to waste the opportunity. And you don't think that it is going to "happen" again? I sincerely doubt it, and some jerkaround will likely be invoked to to send me back to this infernal gangstalk town yet again. Three months of away time as a full time college student is nothing for the assholes to arrange. All the more intensified by the fact that the Okanagan is much superior for grape cultivation than this coastal region, and represents the best opportinities for the better wineries.

If one looks on the First Feral Family events of the past 10 years, there has been a clear pattern to have me visit the Okanagan, Penticton in particular, and even stay there one time while driving the FFF parents around on a wine region holiday. Not that they ever drank wine much, as they had no interest in it apart from making horrid hootch from local blackberries. But their newfound interest in wine erupted back when the hrassment started, and hasn't let up.

So it seems that wine, and I had been making wine as an amateur hobbyist for over 20 years, is a route to the perp's Big Goal, whatever that is for the perps. That they have had me doing farm laboring, -berries, carrots, potatoes, daffodils and miscellaneous vegetables for the past four years in this abusive purgatory seems to be now leading up to viticulture and winemaking. At that rate, I see this vile abuse going on for at least five more years. That makes it 2017 when the might relent, for all TI's possibly, and who knows how it is going to end, as I will be the last to know.

A screaming rage show over my Dymo label printer not working when it was just fine, even after testing the new file folder label spool I installed last week, also another screaming rage show due to imposed adversity at every physical moment. Now, it prints the first file label just fine, and now the second one jammed up and cannot be pulled out in either direction. Like WTF; why do so many functional things go wrong all the time?

Said label printer was working just fine a year ago, a rare instance of a no-problem technical install. Now, a year later, it fucks up. And it only took a year of intention to get these infernal file folder lablels as they aren't stocked locally, and finally ordered in a bout of recent extra attention to all the items that kept slipping off my to-do list. Not to mention snowstorms back east when I phoned Dymo in early 2011, and to later "forget" to phone them again. Twice I attempted to contact them by phone or email and it got blocked for "some reason", read, arranged adversity.

But as this is a Dymo twin printer, why, can't I go with one spool to print and leave the other jammed? No, as it turned out, the R side printer jammed and then backed up the queue for BOTH sides. So while screaming at the assholes when the L side spool didn't print, why, the queue was backing them up. Then I had to dig all over in the Windows task bar to find the printing queue, and once found, to see that it was stopped. I cancelled the queue, and reprinted the L side from the Dymo application, and it worked. And why is Windows so lame for over two decades now, in hiding the printer queue in elsewhere and not having it viewable in Word, in Open Office, and now Dymo Labelwriters? Or have these, and other organizations all decided to all do the same thing; hide the printer queue? Don't get me started.

And back in the days of mainframes, when I was working on a DEC VMS, we did a significant amount of printing for mail-out; once the job was run to create the report, determined after looking at the log file, we sent the print file to be printed at one of two print queues. The first thing we did after that was to look at the queue to see what position the job was at and all the particulars as to how big, when it might finish etc. I am not saying that print queues are necessary in the present day PC world, but if they are going to have them, then make them accessible to the applications that launches the print jobs. Especially this label printing, which shouldn't be on a central print queue as it is a dedicated printer device for the Dymo application. Somewhere, someone has made this 10x more stupid than it needs to be, and guess who exploits that to the limit when they like to inflict extra adversity on selected victims?

Somedays I think the whole Windows O/S has been given perp oversight to ensure it is klutzy, illogical at times, and confusing, ensuring three or more ways to do the same thing when one will do. And that the integrated and highly ergonomic Apple world is there to eventually take over. Its just that the perps need to heighten the grief and vexation at first, and then gradually reduce it by having the vexed users migrate to Apples over the next two decades. Just speculation of course, but it seems that the perps knew that the MS-Windows 3.0 was going to go big as early as 1990, as the IT people at my job and my ex were all early investors who cleaned up big-time. Even as we technical users, much accomplished in the DEC/VMS realm, were highly disrupted and insulted by the imposition of an O/S that wasn't even multi-tasking back then.

Enough techno-banter from the pen; onto a orientation and abbreviated start-up work day tomorrow, and to find out who my coworkers are and what the freak count will be.

Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Intercom Obstruction

A piss-off to start the day, as my intercom messaging was deliberately obstructed when I find a DHL delivery note on the outside of the door, with my name on it. The delivery attempt was at 0915h, and I was here and doing yoga, so I would of heard it had it rung. So, the assholes deliberately obstructed the intercom to arrange this fuck-up and for me to carry this bright yellow post-it note paper in my pocket for my outing to the bookstore. The same bookstore as I was at yesterday with my perp-abetting mother. The usual cast of shiftless males was in constant flux around me, save the "staff member" who kept on reprising, even when I was at the checkout.

A few middle age women were on intensive gangstalking as well, one making it obvious she was on my ass and getting way too close in the line for the checkouts. And the one ahead of me had some conversation with the cashier and then went to stand 6' away while I was at the same cashier. Said gangstalker woman was then in the perfect spot to crimp my egress out of the store, post-purchase. And have I mentioned how often the perps like to gangstalk me at financial transactions? At least every week. And today, it was a repeat of yesterday, except my mother bought the items and I was beside her.

Then onto the bank to get more coins for the laundry machines, and the usual downtown Freakshow was in progress. This time, the teller was a blonde Fatgirl, though friendly and even smiled a few times. Not the usual scared shitless look I get. I suppose they wanted to put on a friendly face once and a while, but all these Fatgirls is excessive of late.

An add-on to the above intercom obstruction; last week the ex phoned around 0915h and the phone did not ring, and I was here, doing yoga at that time. And lo, if something similar doesn't happen less than a week later nearly exactly at the same time of day while I am engaging in the same activity.

I see that my Craigslist posting didn't post for "some reason" when I did everything right and the interface is so dog simple. All to keep me pondering why no one responds to my ad about my bed that I want to unload before I move at the end of December. Naturally, this will be the most coveted bed for research purposes in human history if I may sound aggrandizing for the moment, as it seems that the perps devote huge efforts to gangstalk me with the same colors of the matress (navy blue), its cover (lighter steel blue) each morning whenever I exit this apartment.

I had an interview this morning for four weeks of evening shifts at a forest nursery, grading, sorting and packaging plug stock seedlings. Another "group interview", with two ponytail males and two mutes as the other candidates with me. The one redcoated ponytail, who hadn't worked there before, was carrying on like a Master of Ceremonies, kibitzing with staff (whom he did not know prior to this he said), and taking me to the lunch room to meet the mutes, one of whom I had worked with at the daffodil farm. This was all before the interviewer arrived, which made it look like a total set up; how did the mutes and the redcoat ponytail know where to go in the building to hang out before meeting the interviewer. Then the blonde male ponytail dude arrives just as we are about to enter the building, as directed by the interviewer. Sliding in at the last moment dressed head to toe in black with a massive blonde ponytail coiled at his shoulders for me to see.

Anyhow, it was less an interview than showing us the job, and the usual considerations that prospective employees might have. He seemed like a regular person and wasn't doing wierd things for about the first time ever in an employment situation. Everything seemed OK for earning $10/hour, plus a completion incentive.

And after departing the building, the next batch of interviewees were there, native Indians mostly, in hoodie mode, and one saw fit to tail me to my vehicle.

Then a drive back to the First Feral Family house with my heavy red colored vehicular gangstalking contingent, and lo, if my perp-abetting mother wasn't off to Mill Bay shortly as a friend was coming to pick her up. And lo, if Mill Bay isn't opposite (due W) across Saanich Inlet from the forest nursery I was at only a half hour before. And my mother had launched into this batshit wacko suggestion about Mill Rd. (Mills as it turned out) only two days earlier when it wasn't of any use to me in getting to the forest seedling nursery.

As I stayed at the FFF house last night, I got to see the rainstorm first hand while helping my mother with her cardboad box cutting that was needed in advance for the recycle garbage that goes to the curb. And lo, if she didn't pick the fugliest carmine red raincoat to do this with, adding to the fugly color scene, as the perps are still hounding my ass over brown cardboard, and too, adding in distance dependent viewing of these fugly colors as the light conditions and reflectivity change under the streetlights in the pouring rain.

And as it "happened" the gutter was overflowing and water was pouring over it instead of reaching the downpipe. Soo.. that was my first assignment after driving the FFF vehicle into the garage, was to attend to this gutter, as in clean it out of sand from the roofing and the algae. I had to do this on a ladder, a fitting finale to getting heavy gangstalking from ladder-bearing vehicles, and ladders propped on powerpoles while driving back from the interview.

A city bus freakshow to get back to my place after cleaning the FFF gutter, that sits over the garage where I returned the FFF vehicle. A redcoat woman was on the restless pacing act at the bus stop, and the assholes had flicked rain water on the seat to keep me standing outside the bus shelter for the parade of vehicles that erupts on very suburban Tyndall Ave each time I am there.

The city bus freakshow had eight dudes ringed around me while sitting in the rearmost seat. The two fat dudes who sat in the transverse seat in front of me, one wearing shorts for crissakes and with clown-like tight curly hair to add to his Unfavored level (male over 16, fat, shorts wearing, curly hair), and to ensure that they were meant to be noticed. A petite Asian girl finally came to sit behind me, this being a 1228h #27 bus with over 30 passengers headed into downtown; very odd even with Xmas a month away. Then two negro women, one cafe-au-lait for five minutes of travel time before she got off, then in 10 mintues, another darker one who strangely walked past an availible seat and stood at the rear exit for one bus stop travel duration and then almost mechanically walked back to the vacant seat to be there when I got off with my two biddies.

Then a new internet modem by dint of the cable company offering me faster internet and TV (phone stays the same) for $20/month less, even if I don't have any use for TV. And after the installer has gone, I find out it is Wi-Fi -funny they didn't mention this as I don't want spurious EMF signals added to my life, more than I already have (1,600 Gauss measured in 2009). But as two prospective locations to where I am to move Jan. 2012 have wi-fi, it just might be all about getting me ready, as in bathing me in more EMF signals like much of the rest of the population the utility serves. And lo, if the installer didn't leave the two brown cardboard boxes behind when they always take them with them; that he slinked out didn't go unnoticed.

And my perp-abetting mother gets a call from the forest nursery and I find out that the interviewer phoned the wrong number, but anyhow, I start work on Friday at a tree nursery for four weeks, five days a week, weekends off. I will be borrowing the FFF Ford Escape vehicle each weekday at 1430h or so, and driving it to work, getting off at midnight. I expect plenty of coworkers to be wearing red, as it is a prime gangstalk color when the daylight goes to night, when one's vision shifts from retinal cones (bright light) to rods (low light), an abidding perp research interest from the get-go when this fucking insane abuse torrent was unleashe upon me in 04-2002. And handling plant roots at this time too, another insane obsession of the perps.

Another tanning salon visitation, this time they had me wait past my reservation time for 8 minutes to view the three blonde babes proceed outside, each a few minutes apart. This time, it was another female assistant's duty to show her cleavage and dip her head down with a low top to reveal ample breasts. After a "warm up" of pit lamping me with two vehicles one after the other with sidecast from their headlights, one of the blondes proceeded to her beat-up mid-1980 Ford F250 pickup outside and start the engine, turn on the headlights to illuminate the waiting area and then hallway for the length of the facility. She sat there for at least four minutes before finally departing, having executed the pre-tanning session pit-lamping from outside the tanning salon into it while I was kept isnside. On my two block walk to the tanning salon I was also "warmed up" by prior pit-lamping by at least four bicycles, three of them on this wretched strobing they now like to do with LED lights.

Once out of the tanning salon, I get the ponytail male gangstalker with an apparent swath of hair down his cheek. I go to the LD store to shop and get further gangstalked all over the place with these strange setups of dudes standing together but apparently not associated. One stood 12" or less behind the other, both still for at least five seconds, and then they proceed in file, with the follower gangstalker still on the heels of the first one. The first one was pretending not to know that there was a co-Fuckwit beside him when still, and then when walking, and I don't see how anyone could fail to notice someone on their heels. I once took a picture of this dude from across the street walking parallel to me, and a negro dude walking 2' behind him as if marching soldiers in all its ludicrousness. And lo, if the picture didn't get messed with to show that they were much further apart and the ridiculous element of this scenario was removed from my digital camera. (They could also mess with film pictures in the same way).

Back to the LD gangstalk; once these strange two dudes passed by, one serially tailing the other, there was an orange coated male Fuckwit partially obstructing the aisle, just where the dude pair stopped for five seconds to do their faux buddy clustering. And by the time I got to pass by the orange coat, why, another identical orange-coated female Fuckwit was standing on the other side of the aisle, constricting the space through which I would pass. That is to say, the female orange-coast stood exactly where the serial dude gangstalk pair stopped for this perverse five seconds, and created a constriction with a male orange-coat on the other side of the aisle. Fucking ridiculous that I cannot be allowed to walk anywhere without these strange setups over coat color, male and female variations and the rest of the insane Fuckover Freakshow which abounds everywhere I go. That I had just been at the tanning salon added to the scripted perversity, as they are always more beserk after a tanning salon visit. And plenty of extra red gangstalking vehicle out and about too.

Then in the last intersection of two before I get to my building, the ponytail male outside of the salon re-emerged from a building corner to get suddenly closer, and lo, if that seeming swath of hair wasn't a 6" long, 1.5" wide fully filled in tattoo down the side of his face. Not the most disgusting tattoo I have seen, but the most blatant. Funny how he managed to time his re-arrival after I had delayed my path back from the salon in the LD store, and pop out from behind a corner that the Fuckwits so like to do, get suddenly closer and in my face.

Enough detailing the inanity, though for the next month, Mon-Fri, it will be different in that I will be staying at the FFF house after returning the vehicle after midnight. Which will likely mean that I will take most of my usual breakfast foods there, adding yet more permutations and combinations and juxtaposition into this insane and relentless Fuckover, predicated on the abusers not wanting to come out of the closet for over 9.5 years. How fucking stupid is that?

Monday, November 21, 2011

Start the Vacuum Cleaners

I cannot believe it; two vacuum cleaners have started this Monday evening; the overhead whine of a powerhead model, and now the staff (har, har), have started one in the hallway near my door. But it is a High Harassment Monday, having stayed at the First Feral Family house last night, and helped out raking leaves there. And accompanying my perp-abetting mother to the biggest freakshow of all, Downtown Victoria. The vagrant and semi-vagrant dudes were out in force, even putzing around in the bookstore on their cellphones while "shopping", (read, gangstalking) in this big stakeout that seemed to be arranged around the color of the leaves I raked this morning for three hours at the FFF house. Yessir, deep burgundy tones from the maple tree next door was about 60% of the leaf raking, and muted yellows for 30% and brown and light greens for 10%. And the deep burgundy Volkswagen Vanagon/Westfalias (camper version) that the perps so like to arrange were out in force, and too, the yellowjackets in the same yellow tones as this morning's leaves.

And lo, if the vacuum cleaner wasn't exactly outside my door when I went to leave. And too, the yellow plastic vacuum cleaner head was augmented with a band of dayglo fuschia ribbon around its perimeter. Fucking hilarious; a totally non-functional augmentation for color games, in keeping with the perp's favorite colors, those "constructive wave" interference dayglo colors. Said vacuuming person was this thin drawn woman, crack addict-like features.

A tanning salon session and the prerequiste double coverage of Fuckwit gangstalkers at the LD store that I usually stop in afterward. More vacant dudes, four of them lined up at the chocolate section when they had been backing off with one or two in the past month or so.

And a new trick while tanning on the sunbed; the perps arrange for the entire tanning bed lights to flicker at the exact moment they script a squeak noise as if I had moved on the bed when I hadn't. This "happened" twice in one session when it had never occured before, the light flicker at least. Plus, either the place didn't clean the bed or else the perps added some extra goo under my back, as the sun bed surface was extra gooey when I got up.

And of all things, I got a job interview for a temporary four week tree nursery job in two days. This is the first time the assholes have allowed me to have a job interview since early 2000, closing in on 12 freaking years of not being allowed to go to a job interview. Past farm work jobs have been either "show up and survive" hiring or else a cursory phone call and then the offer of starting within a day or so. I have no idea what this means for the perp's progress, but one can assume the assholes aren't inclined to move too quick unless it is administering abuse or noise.

And now, at I close off for posting, a round of overhead noise has erupted that is indentical to the garbage chute noise of the building I lived in 2005 to 2006, when I was 20' from the garbage chute. For the last four years of living in this building I have been removed from the garbage chute and have heard no noise from it whatsoever. But now, in a new escalation of blatant noise impositon, they re-invoke the noise of the former building in this one that had no such noise until recently. 

Friday, November 18, 2011

Onto Viticulture


A legs shave last night; begun with a sudden "need" to shut down this PC at 2130h, when normally I go to 2200 or 2300h before considering going to bed. As always, shaving anywhere, especially if outside the daily habit, brings on extra perp abuses and gangstalking activity.

A busy morning, and much noisestalked too as I filled out the forms and checks to send to Okanagan College to register for the Viticulture Certificate program training, Jan. to March end. Yessir, after a near unprecedented four years living on one location, rarely allowed going by past events, I will be moving to a small town in the interior of British Columbia to attend three months of classes so I can be an educated vineyard laborer. And too, I get to compete with the Mexican visa farm workers for the same jobs. Hardly a step up the earnings ladder, and hopefully all this course work won't be another perp managed jerkaround in arranging futile activity, unlike the Oracle DBA courses I took in 2009-10, which got me a few phone calls and nothing else.

And I see they have already begun to shake the place, and no doubt other arranged human foibles will follow, e.g. car accidents, murders etc. For perp research, nothing beats having someone's blood contents on the ground. Stay tuned.

The vineyard and winemaking angle has long been a perp interest, and if you subscribe to that seeming fact that my entire life has been a series of nonstop arranged events, then my prior winemaking hobby of 20 years was likely meant to serve the perp's purposes. Add on my perp abetting parents and their newfound interest in wine, even to the point of having me drive them around for annual winery visitations and tastings in the Okanagan region in the fall for the past four years (this year excepted), then one can readily surmise that there is something the perps expect to gain from wine, its color, ingestion and digestion and provenance (where it is from). In other words, wine, along with all my foods from backyard (tomatoes and beans this year), to the other side of the world (e.g. coconut oil), the perps are attempting to glean something intrinsic about the source location from me via the foods or drink beveages I have. To date, I have called these "earth energies" for lack of a better term, but the perps have been absolutely consistent in messing with my food and drink sources, and for that matter, all objects, wherever something is made, manufactured or shipped from. Which also includes the packaging and shipping materials, transportation and containering, stores and particular shelves as well as the orientation of the items on the shelf.

And more checkout "hold ups" (read, arranged delays and obstructions) today at the supermarket. Not only the elder-dude putzing with his charge card over a single bag of bulk granola, or the chinless dude immediately ahead of me, plus other freaks, but they put on a negro to troll along the aisle adjacent to the checkouts, also followed with the bearded dude who popped out from an aisle end earlier. Then the Fat Girl arrived behind me, and in metaphoric terms, it seems the assholes need to dress up a pig with lipstick, having the Fat Girl in blonde hair. This has been more common of late, though as always, the perps like to mix up Unfavored features (fat people, vagrants etc.) with Favored features (blonde, female, attractive).

Yesterday, while on the city bus, and viewing the panel of freaks in front of me, as I was in the rear-most full width seat next to the window, they put on negro woman exactly opposite of the location where they had one the day before. And not the same woman either, though it was the same time of day. I cannot fathom, apart from arranged gangstalking, why over 30 passengers would be heading into downtown on a Thursday evening on the city bus. Regular readers will know that the perps go especially beserk around dusk, so all I can surmise is that they aren't concerned with appearences any more, they just put on the gangstalkers they need for any given travel mode. Not to mention the recent strangeness of the bus driver stopping the bus for no apparent reason and having it sit for two minutes with the door open. (And not at a timing location in the schedule).

While shopping in the local supermarke the gangstalkers were all over my ass, posted exactly where I wanted to go after another one dithered over top of the shopping baskets. Then they blanked me out totally as to what I wanted to get, even if it was unequivocally clear for the past two days. As I approached another aisle after getting skunked on the lurker gangstalker over top of the coconut oil, what I wanted to get, the perps totally wiped my recall as to what I was there for. I have never, ever had suck a sudden and complete memory loss before, and over grocery shopping for crissakes.

As part of the show, they had red dressed gangstalkers, one being an elder-dude in some kind of anorak with large red panels who was tailing me for the second time, coming at me W bound when I was travelling N, and I came to the store aisle first, and look back to see if the Fuckwit was still tailing me, and lo, if they didn't put on a different red dressed gangstalker, this disgusting wizened granny in red plaid, now tailing me N bound. Call it red substitution, where a red dressed Fuckwit swaps with another red dressed Fuckwit to seemingly surprise me with the continued red color coverage.

Yesterday, when getting off the bus in the evening, it was the same deal. A red and black checkered hoodie wearing Fuckwit tails me off the bus and then when I crossed the road at the crosswalk, why he enters onto the road in a jogging gait to catch up with me to cross the road at the same moment. I keep going, and for some reason he doesn't tail me along the next block, but lo, if there isn't a red beret wearing Fuckwit some 40' ahead of me.

Back to vacuum cleaner stalking, the second pass of cleaning outside my door in the hallway. They rarely clean the hallways, but they picked the moments when I was cleaning the dishes at the sink, and now, just as the PC booted up (with a high EMF spike from the power supply). And regular readers will know that I frequently encounter the "suck trucks", the street drain vaccum cleaner trucks, at anytime of year in this town. Past residences have also been known to engage in extra vaccuum cleaning and/or at strange hours of the day. All part of disturbing the ether IMHO with toroidal energies and here.

A read of Project Bluebird by Colin Ross, MD earlier, after tea and chocolate. As part of this abusive imposition, I am not allowed to read books from begining to end, but made to skip all over. Of note, the perps put on noise just when I was reading names of the investigators/abusers under MKULTRA and other like projects. Some of the projects were all about testing children, even to the point of being up-front about in the project description.

I am going to post this as I don't expect anything revelatory to erupt. These are the days of "dwell time", with only a modicum of activities and plenty of time to blog about details of the daily abuse litany.

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Strange Bus Driver Behavior

The bus drivers are doing more wierd things, and it is not the same driver by any means. Like yesterday, the driver pulled a mid-route stop at bus stop and had it sit there for two minutes with the back door open. No one got on, n one got off, and it wasn't a timing point location, just a plain stop-for-no-reason stunt again. This was about 100m S. of yesterday's same stunt, on Shelbourne street for locals, route #27, N bound.

And coming back from the First Feral Family house tonight, on the 1702h #28 bus, and lo, if they didn't load it up to some 30 passengers (read, gangstalkers) heading into downtown on a reverse commute. Totally absurd, as I would expect no more than 10 passengers on this Wednesday evening heading into the opposite direction of work commuters.

The "usual" freakshow, culminating in this grotesque negro woman who they hid behind three passengers in the transverse seats. And lo, if the three of them didn't move their heads forward and the fugly negro woman move her head back so her wretched kinky hair could be seen by me in a forward facing seat. All too familiar to me, these peek-a-boo games where a fugly Unfavored person feature is presented only partially with cooperation from other gangstalkers to do visual obstruction to bound the fugliness to a small visual window.

I was on crawl space activity today, getting the paints out of there so they can be taken by my in-town brother to the hazardous waste drop-off spot. And what an unreasonable grump he was earlier when I phoned him to help him do expedite the favor he is doing for the FFF mother.

Diamond honing stones seem to be a recent planted obsession, though I have to admit they do a better and much quicker job for sharpening knives as waterstones loose material after use, and need to be trued to be flat again. Past experience with waterstones is that it could take an hour or so to get a keen edge, and then the stone has to be resurfaced after that. I suppose this is all part of the perps' obsession over cutting edges and anytime I cut anything, from their loose protruding threads, plant material, paper or adhesive tape to food item preparation. And of course, their obsession over me shaving with a safety blade is legend in my perspective. And now I shave chest and arm hair each morning as part of their game/research as to cutting body hairs, or anything else for that matter.

It looks to be another night with the PC running and accessing the hard drive as it gets defragmented. It is taking ages to get one disk done, some 5 hours now, and only one third done. The perps woke me up last night to visit the PC and do some file deletions to then cause more fragmentation that is now being attended to. Their motto must be; if in doubt, do it backwards (so to make you do it over). All the extra PC lights and from other peripherials must be exciting times for the perps as running the PC all night is rare. Normally, only the cable modem has lights on all night, as it serves for phone calls and internet access.

Off to do more crawl space work tomorrow, as well as visiting the specialty tool shop for my second diamond hone. And I see that the 320x in 3"x8" is not availible here, which makes me wonder if it isn't another fuck-me gambit to not allow me to have three different diamond stones the same size. The one that I will get tomorrow was backordered for over two weeks, which I take to mean that I wasn't allowed to take two home at once. This is very common in Perp Abuse-land, where they want some "settle in time" for a single item when another similar one is to be aquired. Same deal on two shirts that I ordered; the same color and size in this one line of shirts was ordered six weeks apart. And even when I didn't want to order the same color, they messed with my email for an order change request and it didn't get changed, very much unlike an earlier instance.

And that is my typical vocabulary, as being "allowed", as it is clear to me that they have all the details planed, right down to which hand I hold an item in at each moment. They even screwed me out of doing my regular yoga 15 minute session this morning, zinging me in the ass with a muscle spasm to prevent me from doing side stretches to an extended leg to the same side. First a spasm on the R side to stop me after some 15 seconds when normally I go a minute or more. Then again on the L side so no stretching was done there. Needless to say, the noise from outside increases when doing yoga stretches, not unlike the class I attended until they shut it down this spring.

I am going to post this, just to ensure it doesn't get "forgotten" and putz about online for an hour or so before going to bed. I am getting some head hits these days, some kind of head sensation as if a pulse is passing through, though not painful like the brutality of 2002 to 2003.

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

Open Wide

An 0900h dental cleaning appointment, and no dentist stop-by today, as she must take Tuesdays off. No matter, the dishy blonde dental hygienist was all over me while my mouth was open wide, scraping the plaque off my teeth. My gums are badly recessed, and that began in concert with the overt abuse onset in 04-2002, along with the densified magnetic field (1600 Gauss in 2009) my keepers have arranged around me. Another source of gum recession is ionizing radiation as in alpha, gamma rays etc., though I don't think this kind of irradiation is besieging me. I haven't had access to a Geiger counter come to think of it, so maybe this assumption is mistaken.

The dental hygienist was extra chatty today, though of course I couldn't respond much. As it turns out, she is from the Galicia region of Spain, born there in fact, and her parents emigrated to this city when she was six y.o. without knowing a word of English. Daunting to say the least. Interesting too, as this is a Celtic region of Spain, and the perps have liked to inject Celtic persons in my life, Welsh, Scottish and Irish. Ms. C of the story went to Ireland for a visit before the rain of abuse came on me. Some three years later my parents took a week's bus holiday there. And a Scottish born ex-wife as well.

The perps messed with the #2 bus and it didn't arrive per schedule. A woman was waiting for it too, and we ended up taking a cab together. All too cute, having me get in a light yellow vehicle with a green roof, seemingly not yet allowed to ride an a bright yellow Yellow Cab yet. The cab driver and this woman, both in the front seat, were remarking on all the extra vehicular traffic on the road (at 0850h), oncoming, turning in or off, and behind. I don't know why the perps have their shills expound on this obviousness, but as a 9.5 year long gangstalking victim, it travels with me all the time. Even another TI remarked on this last year when at a TI meeting. And my perp abetting mother goes on about all the vehicular traffic when in the vehicle, (me driving). Like WTF; as this is being mentioned it spells "arranged gangstalking abuse" to me, and here they are abetting in this insanity gone amok. And of course I never get to challenge them on this and state why there is this parade of color arranged vehicles around me. If that isn't mind control, I don't know what is.

Then back to this apartment, part way by bus, then walking the latter half of the way back. As usual, my ambulatory gangstalkers were about, though less than usual as it seemed they wanted to tail me with red dressed gangstalkers across the street, walking in parallel. And a rare instance of them not filling the bus up like they did later.. read on.

Off to the First Feral Family house where I am to rake leaves after lunch. The bus driver was doing the strangest things; stopping at a bus stop when no one was there and no one signalled to get off. He just stopped the bus there, opened the front door and had it sit idling there for two minutes, one stop short of his timing stop at Hillside and Shelbourne for locals. Then another instance of this enroute to the FFF house. The usual dude-stalk on the bus, as they like to ring me with dudes of late. Just so many dudes without day jobs in this wretched town. Funny how that is.

I raked leaves to the sound of at least two STRATCOM bombers overhead, though I didn't see any the one time I looked. The neighbors to the S. and W. started up their leaf blowers in near synchrony when I was out in the front yard. Funny how they hadn't been doing much leaf raking and then both of them "decide" (read, pre-arranged script), to do it when I was there. Both are retired and have all day to get on with it, but somehow this neighbor noise (and localized air vortices with associated EMF) erupt when I am visiting.

Also, the passing vehicle count increases when I am outside, as do the cyclists and walkers. One Asian woman has now set the record for back-and-forths, walking back and forth for no apparent reason; three times she walked in N-S pairs until she finally sauntered off. That she was in a redcoat and a white hat made it all the more ludicrous and arranged, unless she was totally deranged.

The perp excitement might of been that I was utilizing a new, blue plastic tarpaulin to rake the leaves onto, as it had been acquired two days ago by me and left in the garage until I had sufficient time to get to leaf raking. And I was wearing a similar blue polyester shirt, so one can imagine how the perps must be salivating over these fabrics and whatever commonality they have besides color.

Then the 1651 #28 bus into downtown, and what a farce it was with over 30 Fuckwits heading S. into downtown at this reverse commute time on a Tuesday. Even the commute buses heading in the opposite direction had less passengers. I got a rear bench seat after it had been vacated, and then they began to pack the bus with herds of 4 to 6 per stop afterward. I got a redcoat Asian male beside me for some 8 minutes, then a hiatus, then a red-brown leather coated young woman next to me for the latter 5 minutes of the 25 minute bus trip. The the quasi-biker dude in the leather jacket, who was first hanging back and standing at the exit for no reason, came and sat in front of me in the transverse seats, on his iPhone all the time. A near skinhead, only a 1/4" crew cut, and the perps managed to arrange the reflections in the windows so I couldn't avoid his image. The perps like to present male bikers to me, with or without their motorcycles. I have no idea what they did to me from 1956 to 1959 as the assholes deleted 99% of my recall, but it seems that bikers and motorcycles figure in this skein of abuse the perps like to create current day vignettes from, presumably to elicit abreactions that they remotely monitor me for, and are attempting to remediate. To the perps I say, go fuck yourselves, as I don't need to be fixed by anybody as I have been abused enough.

I am shifting my pictures and music libraries to another hard drive to make way for a solid state disk drive to be installed in the coming weeks. Tonight it was the pictures that I moved over, and it was the same freaking hassle as it was last night with the music, all 188Gb of it. The Move command in wretched Windows doesn't mean the same as in Unix; it still keeps the original copy and library links. So.... cut and paste games in Windows Explorer as well as deletions to follow, and to then go through the vexation of the viewing software, Picasa 3, to direct it to the new library location. After a number of faked or useless dialog boxes, and screaming at at the assholes at least 30x, I finally was allowed to persevere and get Picasa to find the pictures. Last night, it was the same vexation with getting Songbird to find the music library after I moved it and no apparent useful commands to do so. Then on a later boot-up it found them somehow.

Somewhere in there, the assholes zapped me and an overhead clunk sounded at exactly the same instant. As in, how can this be anything else but targeted abuse? And have I mentioned how much I like getting zapped, probably some 60 to 100x from unseen sources or means since this insane abuse train began.

Enough of the abuse and futility today, and time to go to bed.

New Scarf Brings on Extra Gangstalking

The UPS parcel finally arrived at 1700h, plenty dark then. The UPS delivery man, same one as usual, seemed to need to stand in the dimmest light possible, standing away from the doorway, off to the side which was unusual given my past interactions with him. As this was the sixth parcel from STP, and hopefully the last in a while, it was the first one that was delivered to my door, all the others being picked up by me due to work considerations. And it was the first that was opened here, as they have all been opened up at my mother's place or even the farm when I took my lunchtime to retrieve a parcel there. And plenty of noisestalking was added to the event of opening the parcel too, plastic bags and all. I got next summer's SPF shirts, and two more mid-weight longsleeve undershirts which really serve as sweaters and are my new "go to" shirts, having been wearing stretch cotton T-shirts for the last five years. And I got a $5 black fleece scarf to fill out the order to over $100 to get me a !0% discount.

In the afternoon there was an imposed pressing "need" to launder the turquoise fleece scarf by itself, even if I did get delayed by an Asian woman at the washing machine on the first attempt. This evening, I headed out to the tanning salon at 1845h with my new black scarf on and got to the lobby, and lo, if there wasn't a three gangstalker confluence there, with the lead dude hauling a black tote luggage ahead of his seeming girlfriend, slinging a bag with red and yellow boxes in it. And I follow them out the door, and lo, if there isn't a negro dude coming at me, wanting to get in, and lo, if he wasn't also hauling a black tote luggage very much like the first dude. Like WTF; how can it possibly be a coinicdence that we have a black tote luggage gauntlet for me to pass between at the freaking doorway? I am constant dealing with Fuckwit gangstalker confluences at every doorway I egress, and here we have the Wheeled-Tote Gang setting me up to walk between them at the doorway. Never mind the negro, yet another new one, and from the Unfavored crowd that so likes to parade around me all day long.

Off to the tanning salon to get "lit up" and then to the LD store to load up on chocolate. I am plain exasperated with how much chocolate the perps have me buy and eat, and their relentless brown color games, skin colors included. Another dude confluence at the end of the aisle after I picked up the specialty shaving foam, another imposed "need" when I have two cans here already, one purchased this morning. One Fuckwit standing looking at the aisle end display pretending to being oblivious to being in the way, with other Fuckwits coming up behind him, and me passing between. Then at the Milka chocolate section, why a Fuckwit pair loitering there, some kid in a dumbstruck hang-dog pose and his apparent mother.  A strange pair who didn't seem to be very engaged, and then took off when I got within 6' or so. There were they on my way to the shaving foam, and were still in place when I came back, giving them at least two minutes of shopping time, and still they couldn't decide. What is it about all these apparent shoppers being so dumbstruck, if not bending over to look more?

Then my dude posse when I exited, two ahead of me, one being the lollygagging dude ahead of me at the checkout (should of been long gone), and one behind me on plastic shopping bag stalking duty, doing his throat clearing all of a sudden. This was after they arranged for me to pass between two large bags of bread loaves as there is a bread bakery on the corner and seemingly, they were closing up for the day. The bakery staff member had her vehicle opposite the door with the sidewalk in-between, and somehow managed to place one bag at the bakery door to keep it open, and one bag was taken to the vehicle tailgate where she was opening up as I passed through the bread loaves gauntlet. And where have I mentioned breadstalking before? Here, on this blog, at least 30x or more.

Posting it late, 1800h, 11-15-2011

Monday, November 14, 2011

Post Chicken Run Tap Attack

A visit to the local supermarket to get hot cooked chicken, aka Chicken Run, and true to form, plenty of gangstalkers getting my way, artfully arriving ahead of me or from behind aisle ends. And once back, the overhead tapping noise has started up while I put the groceries away and started up online. I had been online before I set off and no tapping noise, and now it is nearly continuous. As before, these apartments are separated by 12" of floor-ceiling and each apartment is carpetes, so how is this happening? And too, the seeming new upstairs neighbors (unlikely though) are doing exactly what the last ones did with the same striking instrument and noise pattern.

It was a two stop outing, the first to the ATM to deposit my paycheck and get $40 out to pay my daughter for the Ikea things she picked up for me. A two transaction event, and big news for the perp assholes who relentlessly gangstalk and noisestalk me over every financial transaction I make, from coin slots, to mailed checks to cash and debit card.

And lo, if the rain didn't start when I exited the building, not apparent when I put on my jacket and hat. I cannot count the number of times rain starts up just as I exit buildings. Naturally, I was caught without an umbrella, but there were plenty of red ones on the street, so someone was ready for rain. And even perverse bullshit like having two children, one with a red umbrella and the other dressed in red on top of the gangstalking father's shoulders. Fucking absurd.

Then a profusion of dudes in shorts still out on the street, more ridiculous clothing for cold rainy days, but nothing new in this controlled town.

And what is it about the phone system; I find a message on my phone and yet I was here at the time the call was made? This being a Saturday should mean that the call volume (network load) is substantially less and yet I am getting my calls blocked.

The tapping from overhead continues on and off. This is the post lunch digestive period, so I suspect they will continue as they resumed immediately after lunch. And I suppose, they have given up any pretense that this is a tradesmen at work, given the reptition and general continuance.

And still the tapping is going on as I read another TI's blog. Funny how that happens.

Back from a rare late afternoon tanning session. No reservations on weekends for whatever reason, but no wait as it "happened". And for the second time out of two visits that were re-started llate last week, a Fuckwit arrives on my heels just after I pass through the door. There was no one around to get that close to me in the amount of time between when I last looked and when this dude in shorts arrived. It had been pissing rain all afternoon, curiously just having stopped before I set off, and here is this dude in freaking baggy shorts. Same drill as last time, the Fuckwit taking a tanning room as the same time as I am. Dudestalk it should be called.

The salon attendant was very dishy and made sure to be leaning over when I said goodbye, allowing a peek at her ample cleavage. Funny how the cleavage theme seems to be so important of late, and in a week or so it will be something else.

The rain having just stopped before I stepped out of the building, as it seemed to be raining before I departed so I took my umbrella. But there was no need for it, so I carried it there and back unfurled. I have no idea what the perps' interest is in umbrellas and overhead shelters, but they do form a signifcant part of the gangstalking scene, and usually screw me out of using my very special Blunt Umbrella that I got shipped up from New Zealand.

And lo, if the assholed didn't let me watch my first movie on my PC after two years of attempting to do so, and having Windows Media Center getting sabotaged and lost. Finally, I get to see Frida, a show that I liked at the cinema (twice in 2003), liked the soundtrack enough to purchase it, and bought the DVD two years ago. It sat for a year, then was partially played for a half hour before "need" for dinner came on, and was never touched again. A first for the perps, letting me view a movie on my PC. Such are the constrictions as to what I am allowed to do, see, say or think, or in anyway engage in.

A bout of indolence stopped this from getting posted when I had all kinds of time to do so yesterday.

Out and about with my perp abetting mother this morning;they had me frazzed while at Walmart and then again at a super-swarm at Fabricland, the third visitation in four months over these freaking pillows my mother wants to make. Finally, they were in, and I got to pack two of them around while my mother toted another one, and then she pissed around at the cutting tables and then a big checkout obstruction so they could put me between the redcoats while in line, and my mother finally paid (financial transaction) for them. The parking lot went from nearly empty when we arrived to nearly full when we exited, and it was a dedicated parking lot just for that store. Hopefully the pillow stuffing bullshit is over, though I am sure the plastic bag stalking isn't over yet.

And a red haired rude-dude in dressed in black at Walmart, doing the excuse-me-while-I-bump-into-you stunt, coming from behind. The fucking asshole knew there wasn't enough room to get by but just kept going, no eye contact of course. Why has this public rudeness suddenly erupted in this fucking town in 2002 when the harassment began?

And the public freakshow as well; fat girls/women are on a major gangstalking initiative of late, and today was no exception. The above Walmart and Fabricland gangstalking was at least 40% fat women, some dropping things to do their bend-overs in close proximity. The only woman worth looking at of the sixty or more at the latter store was a blonde woman with an infant strapped to her front, first doing a pose to the N. and then in partial aisle blocking mode at the exit to the W. Go figure.

A sudden "need" to take a piss came over me at the burger joint, just as I finished up on talking about sending my transcripts off to my mother. Not only do I get plenty of coverage of people in my way, or about to get in my way to cause me to stop and wait, but after the piss the same staff member dressed in black and white was loitering around as she had when I was on my way to the washroom. A fuck-all piss, that is, it was totally unneccessasry, and after the black-and-white staff stalk, why a huge fat blonde woman, at least 250 lb steps in my way, dithers around, and then leads-ahead of me to my seat. Just fucking absurd, as above; if I cannot stand the sight of fat people, large guts spilling out from males and the rest of the obeser parade, why is some insane agency hounding me for over 9.5 years over two countries and everywhere I go? Get the fuck out of my life, and tell me in person what your fucking abusive non-consensual human experimentation agenda is all about, then fill up my bank account bigtime.

Then at the mid-scale burger joint it was the due-with-ponytail on show in the next booth in my line of forward vision, interspersed with the waitress flitting back and forth with an identical ponytail. If I fucking loathe dudes in ponytails I don't see why my life has been torn to shreds in an international Fuckover Abuse Show that has now run over 9.5 years.

And I saw that the concrete and aggregate supply dudes were across the aisle at the burger joint. All in keeping with the redi-mix truck stalking I routinely get anytime when I am out. Next will come the shit services dudes I expect, as I get plenty of septic services/portable john service trucks and tankers around me for no seeming reason, save the perp's obsession over excrement color and the rest of their associations they seem to dwell upon and ensure that I get my fill of. And there is no reaso for septic service tankers to be downtown here where I live as it is on sewer, all of it, save the odd construction job with portable johns.

The the late model Jaguar sedan in silver-grey arrived across the street to be seen through the windows of the burger joint. Again, I don't know what their fascination over presenting Jaguars is, but it may have something to do with less plastic and manmade fabrics and construction, and with more leather and wood in the vehicle. Which also may explain the old-timey cars they like to put on, made long before innovations in plastic forming for the automobile industry.

I will get this posted before the brown van (UPS) service comes to deliver a brown parcel and have me engage in an financial transaction to pay for the tax and duty charges. No doubt timed for when I am eating chocolate with tea, as they already had me take a massive shit earlier. It is a Monday, and all manner of events are arranged with extra perp fuckery and insanity (theirs).

Friday, November 11, 2011

Shorter Work Days

This a Monday, and following a stayover at the First Feral Family house last night, brings on all kinds of extra harassment, noise and strange behaviours of others. It was a rare 0900h start, as normally farm work begins at 0800h, or when berry  picking is on, as early as 0600h. And it was most strange that my four co-workers, including my supervisor, were wandering around in a semi-daze and not seemingly knowing what job to do. I pitched in and helped on bin repairs and then onto clean up, as the place is in semi-chaos most times. After a half hour of this, and no one telling me what to do, the potato washing job was on, and so I was on the outside after the washing to remove reject potatoes. These were from a 40' wide and 8' high mountain of potatoes that I had been clambering on four days ago to pull the huge blue plastic tarp over them as the one in place had split for some strange reason. Not every day does one clamber a small mountain of potatoes, but it seemed it was up to me at the time as my co-workers had "faded out", seeming to lack intitiave to get this job done as we were all pulling in different directions at the time.

Anyhow, one ton per truck load, and three truckloads on the day, quitting at 1540h, also unusually early. But as the work seems to be less, despite the boss saying that I could "have as much work as I wanted" last week. The topic of work, or lack thereof, is a big perp theme that has been consistent for the past 9 years or more. I have no idea what this is about exactly, but it may have some connection with the present day recession and the rampant job losses over the past three years. Don't know, and I don't understand why these significant themes are such a consistent perp issue.

Still on with shorter work days, starting at 0900h. We didn't have enough time to complete the last run of potatoes for washing so we packed it in at 1530h, same as yesterday. Hmm... but with an extra hour of light in the morning why didn't we start at 0800h, the usual daily start time? I don't ask these obvious questions anymore.

Mainly, the job was potato washing of a truckload (one ton or so) the large mound (per above), as  it seems this is the only activity on the farm, apart from repairs. Many of these potatoes are green, getting chlorophyll from being too close to the ground surface in this freakish delayed season this year. And a perp "insight" (read planted thought) was that the greenish tones were to emulate skintones of the green men I might have seen during the memory blanked years, 1956-59. Well so what; I don't know why the perps are on this green color binge of late, but it too seems to be a featured enough to suggest that it too might be an Unfavored color. Which begs the question, what color isn't Unfavored? Blues for sure, maybe violets and purples. Ask the Men In Black Fleece as the current day MIB's dress.

Two days ago it was a run of white potatoes that had plenty of rot in them, black and brown tones, and lo, if the perps didn't plant the notion that it was skintones of certain Unfavored races. Another so what as far as I am concerned.

A different set of freaks on the bus of course, taking it at 0815h, instead of an hour earlier. This is the kids and parents run, in keeping with the perps' insane need to plant children around me, sometimes going to absurd lengths. e.g three year olds on the bus at 1930h when they should be in bed.

That didn't stop them planting a negro woman next to me and her child on the bus this morning, my first weekday bus trip at this later 0815h time. (Yesterday I came from the First Feral Family house via vehicle).

And it is the perp season/current initiative to have me make typing mistakes and adding incorrect digits into my credit card number when making online transactions. An online transaction triggered a call from the firm to get the credit card number correct, and lo, if the incorrect digits weren't the very same ones they messed with when making an online transaction the next night. Exciting times in Perp Subjugation Unit.

Other perp sponsored activity has been to re-start me at the tanning salon, the last time I was there was August followed by some outdoor tanning. So... two gangstalkers were hot on my tail when I went in, and presumably they tanned in other rooms in parallel. Then to the LD store following tannign where they put on a male gangstalker on his blue cell phone handling the very chocolate I was going to purchase.He took a single bar ahead of me and then I picked a larger quantity as it was on sale. This dude was on his second reprise gangstalking, and I was also treated to the same ponytailed male apparent staff member in the same aisle doing the same thing (stocking the toilet paper) in the same location two weeks ago. I suppose, in the perp's world, there is an continuing after-effect from being under the tanning lights, and they wish to capitalize on it when I make a financial transaction following tanning. They also put on their best babe cashier at the LD store, I haven't seen her for at least six months or more. Then a cute and adoring babe in the elevator and so marks the opening salvo of tanning salon activity in winter. Soon, the thuggy dudes, freaks and other Unfavoreds will be populating the gangstalking scene following tanning.

And a blast from the past, one of the swim club members I knew until 1999 "happened" to stop by at the farm, but he was looking for the chicken farm down the road, with the same surname. And lo, if the assholes didn't totally blank me out as to what his name was, though he knew mine, and he didn't offer his, even when it was clear that I "forgot". So... I spent the next potato washing/sorting hour trying to think what his name was, or more like, the perps were dropping names into mind and I was rejecting them until some hours later when I was allowed to know it. Such are the travesties of living in a total mind-fuck environment. I had spoken to him many times, had visited his house as part of a swim club social, and even had a tour of his pottery operation, and somehow I got totally blanked out. Needless to say I am totally pissed at this cognitive incursion.

And what is it about the perps they need to fuck me over as to meeting deadlines? I applied for a three month Viticulture course at a college, and they sent me an email which indicated a letter was to come, and then I get it six days later and lo, if they didn't spring a deadline of Nov. 14, 2011 for admissions requirements documentation, aka transcripts. As Nov. 11 is a national holiday, and it occurs on a Friday, one can sense there aren't many business days between now and deadline, (writing this in the evening). So, on with getting the transcripts sent by courier, and even at that, they promise 3 to 5 days with courier service. I might make the deadline for both transcripts sources, but I had to re-submit one request to have courier delivery, "forgetting" about the national holiday, and that Nov. 14 follows on the Monday. And it seems to me that no real mail, save flyers, ever gets delivered on a Monday. One stream of cluelessness added on top of another, and all of it perp created and managed.

Finally the farm work nonsense was ended today, partly by my instignation as the farmer's wife, and farm administrator, "happened" to come by after lunch when all five of us farm workers were milling about and  wondering what the next job was as the farmer had taken off without giving us any direction. Or, at least, that is how it seemed, though one can be sure this was all stage managed to some extent, though some of the dialog and communications might not be totally scripted. Hard to tell.

We had just finished the last of the washing and grading of the mound of potatoes (per above) before lunch and that was all it seemed there was to do. The farmer did finally show up 10 minutes later and then got into an angry retort with his wife beside me, and I had to explain what he said in part because I had heard his same angry rant a few days ago. Later she told me that this outfit that won't purchase his carrots (50 tons of them) due to seeming new corporate buying interconnections accounts for 90% of their carrot sales. Ouch.

As I was talking to the farmer's wife about payday and the no apparent work or work plan, the others slowly slid out and by the time I got back to where the potato washing equipement was, why, there were all stationed in their places and ready to go with a new load of potatoes that were going to be re-washed by dumping them from their boxes. Like WTF; how did everyone know about this new job for the next few hours when there wasn't any apparent communication? Same thing in the morning at the end of coffee break; the Asian guy gives me a scoop shovel and says we have to help the loading of the potatoes where the farmer was loading the truck up with the tractor loader shovel at the potato mound. As we had bee working from this pile for the previous two days, just the farmer operating the shovel, how was it that our help was needed and how did it get communicated as they were some 100' apart? Like always, I contend that my entire life circumstances down to the last microsecond are scripted and the players all seem to know somehow without any apparent conventional human communication methods and over any distance.

The early afternoon consisted of me dumping four pallet loads of 50lb boxes (1,500lb) of nugget potatoes onto the conveyor line. Some were rotten, shrivelled or disfigured, so the concept was to run them through the washing tumblers and to the inspection station at the end, with no interim inspection like usual. And so when I began the task, the farmer's pal was 30' away in his red vehicle with the headlights trained on me for five minutes waiting for the farmer so they could go on a their odd drive-arounds that they usually do, kind of like mobile coffee breaks. The instructions were to dump them on the conveyor in a pile and let the washing tumbler even out the flow. And as these are small potatoes, there are many more in a 50lb box, so the inspection effort is substantially greater, per potato. It seemed that we were ramming them through again, not applying significantly more quality inspection which created the problem in the first place. And then the re-washed potatoes were put back in the emptied boxes, replete with mould and slimy potato remains, all to reinfect the just washed (and wet) potatoes. Doesn't make any sense to me, if one expects a better quality outcome, but as we have being doing this for various potato varieties and grades for the past month, it wasn't out of the ordinary. Though when one applies the perp perspective, who just love to have work re-done, it make somewhat more sense. The only difference this time was that any hope for better scrutiny and inspection was nonexistent due to the small potatoes that were in much more significant quantity. All too strange for me to consider this activity in economic terms, so there must be a perp rationale behind all of this seeming potato processing inanity.

A busy day, and always a big perp event when transitioning from one lifestyle (working) to another (now, not working). And it started early, sometime when they had me jerk off sometime around 0200h, coming out of a sleep for the event, and really not wanting to complete. I get two to four ot these a year, with minimum sensation, so it is more comparable to "remotely influenced mastabatory rape" than a response to any kind of imposed horniness. That brought on getting up early (by their doing) to attend to laundry before intending to head out at 0930h. And at least 15 rage-fication stunts this morning over the smallest of events; teleporting crumb inundations, sending me to the wrong cupboard or drawer, have me open a cupboard or fridge and stand there dumbstruck because they deleted my intention from mind, and a few other regular games to rile me up. One can be sure it is a big perp day when the rile me up in the morning.

Then the assholes screwed me out of getting the bus, by running it two minutes early and temporarily  pre-empting the bus stop I was walking toward by arranging a crane truck on the sidewalk that was lifting stacks of drywall up some four stories. So in other words, the assholes double fucked me over getting my intended bus; running it early (very uncharacteristic for the N. boung #27, 28 routes) and then arranging the bus stop to be unavailible and also pinching down the adjacent three lanes down to one with the ubiquitous dayglo flag girl.

That wasn't the end of overhead boom trucks/cranes, a very common gangstalking arrangement. No sir, there were at least three more such jobs on my travels today, not only constricting traffic down to one alternating lane, and never less than two boom trucks together, as that seems to be the minimum as of 2004 or so. The perps cannot get enough human activity close to the powerlines it seems, and arranged when I come by.

the bus to the First Feral Family house begat my freakshow as usual, this morning's star freak was the slouching dude in the red hat and the red pants and white top who later removed it to reveal a slightly differing red T-shirt underneath. It is just fucking hilarious to be hounded with red dressed freaks and fuckwits for nine years. But that abominable color arrangement wasn't the worst of it, as he was seriously tattoo-ed on his arms and neck. So.. I got to look at the freakshow out the window instead. Regular readers will know that I loathe the sight of tattoos, and the perps like to chase me down with gangstalkers with such self-mutilation features. Eyewitness reports from the 1950's place the infamous Dr. Cameron in Montreal examining "patients", (nonconsenual human experimentation subjects, including children) who had bald heads and tattoos on them to provide repeatable reference points on their heads. And of course regular readers will also know about the placement of male (nearly always) bald heads, aka skinheads, around me as part of the gangstalking milieu/parade. I too was in Montreal as a child  1956 to 1959, aged 2 to 5, and most of my recall has been wiped out from then by some means. Funny how I never, ever remember to ask my mother about what happened to me then and where I was,- mind control writ large IMHO.

I got my negro gangstalker on the bus again and they hid him mostly behind the lower deck bulkhead, and he even put on headphones over his head to limit the amount of his frizzy hair that I could see at once. And to touch on another Unfavored demographic feature, I now find tight or loose curly hair abominable to look at. And lo, if their aren't pics of military personnel stuffing negro, Caucasian and blind children in cages in the mid to late 1950's on the Indian Lake Project site.

And it was a big event for laundry over the day. Once I dropped off my mother at her dental appointment I took her vehicle to my place to drop off three new towels that had been laundered at least five times at her place to drive the lint out. Going back, I took the three regular towels (two of which that were laundered this morning) to get laundered at my mother's place as there is some residual scuzz on them I cannot get off in this apartment building washing machines. Then onto the farm to get the last of my work clothes and gumboots, only to find the three Punjabis that I work with were continuing working. That is how it goes in Fuckover World, getting the shaft every which way.

Then back at my mother's place I handwashed the breathable Blue Storm rainpants, then pre-soaked the fleece vest that I had kept at the farm. Back to pick my mother up at the dentist, along with the traffic constrictions and boom trucks along the route, and then to dine out for lunch. It was dishy blonde babe waitress time again, and I can never get enough of that. (Because they like to intialize me with such Favoreds, and then slowly filter in the dudes around me, this time it was two parties of cyclists, four in all. This restuarant is about the most unlikely place a cyclist would go for lunch, so it was mildy amusing to see these Fuckwits so out of place).

I took my towels to the FFF house to get them laundered as there was a sheen of brown scuzz that I cannot get off. Said towels were in my duffel bag that I took on the homebound bus later, and it was another absurdity of gangstalking excess; over 30 passengers heading into downtown at 1730h on the #27 route. The biggest freak was the Fuckwit with the bald head that was covered with a ball cap, but even in side view one could see that his head was extensively tattoo-ed. At least they put an interesting looking babe in front of me, the dude-force that normally encircles me is getting most tiresome.

On the bus I got the backpack shove, the asshole next to me pretending not to notice that his backpack that he wore was contacting me. Been there, done that, only a few days earlier.

Day of the elevens, and here, Rememberance Day, akin to Veteran's Day, a national holiday. And in this controlled existence I lead, I went out for coffee with the former farm laborer co-worker who goes the extra mile to cover my tracks, working at the same places that I have, and with a seeming perfect confluence of life activities/conditions going on that the perps like; skin condition, divorce, debt, job firings etc. Currently she is taking a 9 month horticulture course, attempting to get job oriented training in her mid-thirties. I sometimes wonder if she isn't a morphover a certain (in)famous woman who seems to show up with regularity in the planted thought stream (and seen twice). And of all things, she came with cleavage showing, a never-seen-before appearence, way outside her comfort range as known to date.

And what might of been the events prior to going out for coffee with this obvious perp abettor? I started using my new towels last night, and this morning. The use of towels are a big perp harassment subject, and their propensity to spread lint onto all the other laundry is near legend for me. They are the same color of off-white as the last set, now duly stored in the closet after getting a more thorough laundering at my mother's yesterday. The new towels were laundered some six times to drive off their linting habit, and have been kept at my mothers for over four weeks.

Other perp prep for me this morning was to have me shave my legs last night, when normally I do this on Saturday nights and never on Thursdays until yesterday. My bedsheets that were laundered yesterday were slept on last night without benefit of any bedclothes, also an exceptiopn. The entire sleep/matress/ bedsheets color and laundered state is always a big perp consideration.

At the cafe:  the "backup" stunt with the person in the next table with her back some 18" away and she and her party were speaking sign language for the most part. Which makes this interesting, as they were having a conversation simultaneously, but silently. Which suggests the perps are working on determining the neural/psychic energies devoted to words and concepts, separate from the aural component.

A vacuum cleaner outside my door on a this statutory holiday; fucking absurd for the little they clean this apartment building. But it is not the first time the vacuum cleaner stalking has erupted outside my door, or when I am in the hallway. One building arranged a 20% chance of there being a vacuum cleaning job for me to encounter on my way to my apartment.

And Songbird, a free open source music player is crashing in an unusual way; the tiles/windows are interleaved with other concurrent Windows applications.

Perverse news: Obama Barrack has teleported to Mars. I wouldn't be too surprised if this is true, from my dealing with telportations all the time in the form of missing objects, food crumbs (or even half teaspoon blobs) arriving from nowhere in front of me, and the daily litany of imposed adverse fuckery I am exposed to.

I am going to post this now, as blogs will be more a daily reportage, as there is plenty of spare time as no more farm work.