Sunday, March 25, 2012

Pruning in Snow

03-17-2012 Saturday
Finally, some work as I have overdrawn my account, and lo, if it wasn't snowing where the pruning was, so three hours work instead of 8. And a ride to the vineyard, with two others in the vehicle, and they "happened" to be waiting in the vehicle underneath this motel suite. And parked in the place of an Alberta vehicle that had been in that very stall for weeks, and it was gone, all for my confreres to be in a same colored silver-grey in that very parking stall. Parked underneath and phoning me above for crissakes.

It was a wet snow, but at least the perps didn't crank up the wind to make it unbearable. The two co-workers were a woman from my class, and a blonde dreadlocked dude from last year's class. And have I mentioned how I loathe the sight of dreadlocks, and how often the perps put this freak variety, aka Unfavored hair style, for me to see? At least once per week, and likely more often. Not to forget a dreadlocked freak in my Viticulture class, replete with large beard, and worse yet, a bag toque, one that fits sloppily and hangs at the back of this head, giving the appearance of an extended rear portion of his head, something else I cannot stand. (Nearly all hats and hoodies in fact).

A prior leg shave and frontal shave lat evening with a new razor, handle. always exciting for the perps when I change my safety razor insert or purchase a new kind of disposable blade.

One hour of allowed term paper work, and then a sudden nap-attack for 1.5 hours,
then a two 100g chocolate bar tea-time, and term paper work allowed for two hours, though what was written will have to be substantially reworked. The perps like me to lay down an initial draft and spend countless revisions at the same thing, even hanging me up on understanding what I am reading. Cognitive impairment is quite subtle and can be considered to be always applied.

The usual coincident coughing from my co-workers, none of whom has a cold, while I am making a pruning cut.

My worker colleagues like to mention "Montreal", often enough, one from a small town in Quebec. Funny how Montreal and New York figure in the idle meant-for-me chat that goes on.

Similar deal at pickup time the next morning. At 0821h I go outside to take the garbage out, and was gone from the room for a minute maximum, and lo, if the employer didn't call just then and left a message on my phone. (Light was flashing). Like WTF; he calls exactly when I wasn't here, though to be fair, he was expected around 0830h. This time, the silver Hyundai was back in the usual location, underneath this suite, and so he was parked 10' away. I had even looked when I put the garbage out, seeing the Hyundai there, not the Honda.

Sunny all day long, and warm too. A full 8 hours of work, and got paid, always a big deal it seems. Not just recieving money, but the perps putting on shows of other recieving their paycheck, e.g. last week.

The Quebecois person that employs us for pruning is married to an E. Indian woman, and they have a 2 week old baby I came to know by having lunch at their house. The mother looked totally terrified of me, though I was doing nothing but sitting down and eating my lunch, and commented on how young the baby was. On the mother's second pass by, she looked less terrified. Funny how that happens, and has happened all my life, these unknown people that seem scared shitless of me from no actions of my own.

What is it that the perps have to send people to stand in the way of my view all the time? Two of the crew at lunch feign a need to look out to the spectacular view down Lake Okanagan, high up on the Naramata Bench, as well as stepping over my pack on the floor to get to the window. Fucking rude shit again, and it is so consistent.

The Viticulture class Freak comes in for 30 minutes and slouches in his seat, and doesn't open the books up, and leaves for good at lunchtime, posing outside the cafeteria. Then an almost doppelganger, same color and style of coat,with similar long straggly matted hair and a big black beard does three passes over the next 20 minutes while at lunch with class colleagues. This was the week they had me sit elsewhere in the classroom as the new instructor put the projector in the path of my sightline to the front board/screen.

And moving seats again in class, sitting next to the babe as one student returned from an extra long weekend when I thought he wasn't going to take the course as he has a Pesticide Applicator's Certificate. A ditz instructor, disorganized presentation material and not answering the questions I ask, while others hold back and don't enjoin in the class discussion. I seem to be getting totally clobbered with cognitive dithering irradiations or however they do this abuse.

I was the class demo-dolly, putting on the white tyvek suit modeled for the class; for no seeming educational benefit as the instructor curtailed the "teaching moment" for some strange reason.

Last class of Pesticide Applicator's course. I went to the small college gm to work out after, and had the  herding dudes again, creeping me out. And a jerkaround with the library card and the gym card, getting totally wiped and using the wrong one, all to get more dude-time at the counter, and more forced back and forths.

My treadmill shutdown for no reason, and I had to restart it again.

My library card can be loaded with money to make it useable as a cash source for photocopying, and the E. Indian library assistant (brown skin) had to make an extra trip back to the library as the machine gobbled up the money and didn't assign the photocopy credits. So she came back with two one dollar coins to replace my $2 coin. And lo, if one of the hang-around-me classmates (deep brown colored jacket) didn't come by then, making conversation and continuing to check out what I was photocopying (Viticulture related papers, recieving them from another student).

I started a new jar of coconut butter this morning, which might of got the perps excited, as they pissed me off for at least ten rage-ifications this morning. Having the food items on the spoon doing backflips and lateral movements of no conventional origin, as every morning, doesn't count as a rage-ification event as it happens all the time now.

The Pesticide Applicators' Certificate exam this morning, a proctored 3 hour open book exam. After suffering the ditz instructor for the prior instructor for the prior four days this week, one would think an examiner would of been a relief. But no, he had this stinking cologne on that permeated the room and was under my nose for most of the time. And too, part of the deal was that the perps like to rile me up over exam marking while the rest of the class holds their tongue for some reason, but this time it was during the exam. I get a Version 4, when the instructor said it was Version 3, and I get three questions about plant nurseries instead of grapes or field crops. I explained this to the proctor, but he seemed to be in a half smirk state, so I now get it; rile the victim up during the exam instead of a day later with capricious marking. At least these were the final three questions so I didn't stress out untl the very end.

A job interview in Oliver this afternoon, needing to rent a vehicle again. Naturally, the vehicular gangstalking force was out, even tailgating me, and having the tailgater tail me for a block of evasive action on my part. And at least 8 brown motorhomes heading N, as I was travelling S, quite the arrangement to say the least, unusally ensconced with surrounding posse of white and silver grey vehicles in tight formation. Many more red colored vehicles too, sometimes four at a glance, and believe me, the perps will arrange things just for a fleeting moment.

A strange interview, with the interviewer doing most of the talking, and not asking many. Plus, I walk into the tasting room, and three personnel are arranged in chairs just inside the door. None of them was looking for me as the interview subject, and when I was asked about tractor driving experience, I replied that I had little, as the job ad read, "experience preferred". The person harumpfed over my reply, and as it "happens", he was the owner of the vineyard/winery. And have I mentioned the preponderance of business owners "showing up" just for me when I am in their store, building, business or whatever? Plenty. And at no time did the interviewer say why he asked me to the interview, as it seemed key, given the small staff numbers and no backup personnel. Nor did he mention what the wage was. This was the first interview the perps have allowed me to attend in 12 years, if one doesn't count the ridiculous group interview last summer at a certain winery that shall remain nameless. All prior jobs have been either the survive mode hiring method, i.e. survive the first day and one is hired, or else hired over the phone without a real interview.

 03-24-2012 Saturday
Back from vine pruning today, like last weekend. And the STRATCOM bombers were out in force, or else the noise thereof. Like at least 30 overflight events today, sometimes one after the other. And they are supposed to be on randomized flight paths, har, har. The perps like to put this on especially when I first arrive, and again when I resume work after lunch. Funny how that happens. At least a 12 other local aircraft making noise, one floatplane on a senseless flight path, making a 90 degree turn overhead and headed to the mountains when the 144 km lake beckoned below. No black helicopters today, unlike last week. (Not forgetting that a local person owns one and is permitted to fly it onto their property nearby, a legitmate black helicopter even, though no rationale as to why he chose black for crissakes). I see enough hubcap-less vehicles every day due to the profusion of them in this town for unknown reasons, and the wheel rims are black in almost every case. Somehow, the perps know I have an aversion to black wheeled cars and trucks, and they make sure I see at least 50 most days, sometimes hundreds if I am driving.

As I am continuing to write my term assignment tonight, the perps have started up the pounding and noise games; "from" the next room, "from" below (a void where vehicles are parked) and "from" non-contiguous building sections. Like WTF; why are they going fucking beserk over the fact that I am writing a term paper, delayed by five weekend days of screwing with my cognitive abilities to write.

Another big perp event; I switched to a new brand of dishes detergent; a colorless Eco type after ten years of using Dawn. Detergents and dishes cleaning are always big Fuckcover events, and about four years ago they switched me from the inky blue Dawn to the brighter aqua blue Dawn because they stopped the supply of the former. In a total new switch, now a colorless Eco brand that surely has to be the biggest news of the week, for those in perp-land.

More pounding and vibration from below as I am doing extensive cut and pasting in finally being allowed to devote some focussed time to getting this wretched term assignment done, though I am far from completion. And no freaking phone calls tonight, and last night too. Recall that last weekend, when the perps cognitively clobbered me, I recieved phone calls when only 30 minutes or so into getting started on this same assignment.

Then a party next door with girl talk, interspersed with dude talk, to then cover me from the last 10 min. of seated time, to the next 20min. in bed while reading. These transitional noise games are nothing new.  Then they pounded the wall that faces outside, the one I am leaning my head against of course.

More vine pruning today, getting some income from this weekend's work. Then tieing down the vine canes on the trellis, and hoping not to split or break them in the process. As "usual" the STRATCOM bombers flew high overhead, at least 25 overflights plus augmentations with single engine aircraft and one boomy sounding helicopter that I did not get to see due to the high overcast cloud conditons. And a new noise for after lunch, dirt motorcycles were buzzing somewhere nearby, as the property backs onto public forest lands with a right-of-way crossing it. The vineyard is next to the powerline and gas line right-of-way, and no doubt the perps thought this was interesting, as they like me to be doing work near them. Something to do with the charge they carry, some would say even "dark energy" as the best minds don't yet understand electricity even, or at least, so I have read more than once. But one can be sure the perps do, and use it to their advantage, and who knows what they pump into household A/C circuits. At times, they will utilize A/C circuits to generate masers flying out of a wall socket, have been the target of said masers.

Other excitement for the perps might be that they had me do a full frontal shave this morning, the first in three days as my mornings had been too busy. And using a fresh towel too, always of intense perp interest. And the usual hackings at me to get some blood samples, as if they were from the safety razor, though they clearly weren't. Not when one gets little oval lesions, or when one witnesses a wound opening up beside the razor head, one inch away and the wound/hacking was proceeding to open up in the same direction I was pulling the parallel razor. It is very difficult to cut oneself with current day safety razors, and yet it keeps "happening" each morning I do a full frontal shave, hackings on my left and right abdominal region and every 5 days or so, some on my nuts, as it "happened" today. And to protract the fuckery, they interfere with the stepic pencil and delay staunching of their inflicted hacking, all to make more blood mess and whatever else they get from it. Though I also sense the perps are testing intake of substances through one's skin, given that they like me to use body creams, something I never did before. So perhaps they are testing me on the stepic pencil's chemical (anhydrous aluminum sulfate, potassium alum (both are types of alum) or titanium dioxide) systemic intake though my skin,and comparing abdominal skin to the much thinner skin on my nuts. Just more grist for their mill, and it is getting extremely boring, being kept in this wilderness of abusive insanity, theirs that is.

The perps have kept me out of swimming, something I did 3x/week for 13 years, swimming 7500m on the week. Talk about skin immersion and dermal uptake, but still they are farting around with how substances are getting into one's bloodstream, all these nearly ten years of insane abuse. The did let me swim in a lake once last year, in the company of my farmworker colleague in Victoria, who likes to hang around me and keep in touch. Why anyone would want to associate with me with the hounds of hell on my every move tells me that they are either an operative or some other trained dupe who is getting a big payout. I would be obvious in her case, as she is another dirt poor farm hand, though taking a landscaping course to upgrade her skill set. That she has "followed" me to both my farm worksites in the past two years hasn't gone unnoticed, and of course that she never brings up the big H topic, that being Harassment. A trademark of nearly everyone I know who has been given some idea as to the totality of this abuse scene.

Anyway, to get this posted, and now going into the last week of my three month Viticulture course in Penticton, and by dint of nearly no one returning my emails, still no work.


Tyler Dresden said...

good to see you still moving forward.

AJH said...

It doesn't seem to me that it is forward; at best, just more fraught over different things. Getting and keeping a job has been a constant subject of covert manipulation, which is of course dictates everything else. Keeping me broke has been constant since it started, April 2002. It is looking that I might be allowed to own an automobile for the first time since 2006, but I have to borrow from my perp-abetting mother to do so. And the vineyard farmhand gigs don't pay more than $12/hour, and one needs at least $15/hour to keep a vehicle. It is extremely frustrating not having control of one's destiny, especially given that it is the product of insane, relentless non-conventional abuses of every aspect of my existence, from turning a page in a book to everything as, or more, complicated than that. Worse, they know more about me than I do, seeming to have inflicted abuses when I was aged 2 to 5, that were obliterated from my recall. I was there in Montreal for two of those years, and I don't think I need to expand on this "coincidence" and the abuses that were taking place elsewhere in that city at the time. (We are talking of two significant theatres of abuse; Dr. Cameron and is so-called "psychic driving" and the Duplessis Orphans atrocities by clerical authorities). Thanks for the comments.