Saturday, September 29, 2012

Brown Concrete

It had to happen, now twice. The 60' driveway  (13.2 cubic meters) of concrete poured yesterday at the vineyard where I work, was colored brown by way of post manufacturing colorants that are added to the redi-mix truck before it departs the yard so it is thoroughly mixed by the time it gets to the jobsite. And as regular readers will know, the perps hound me with redi-mix concrete trucks (and the cement tankers too), and also like to arrange brown colored objects/skin color proximate to me. And now, the culmination of both at once, surely a perp coup; working on a brown concrete pour. This was significantly larger than the 12' long single step pour of three weeks ago, also a brown concrete job, different brown though, even if it adjoins this driveway.

I was working for the fellow who built the forms and was responsible for the job for the last week, doing raking, digging, soil transport, soaking the ground (with a hose and nozzle). Two days ago we were working on the steel reinforcement (rebar), and even yesterday morning before the first load of redi-mix concrete came in the large redi-mix truck. In other words, pouring of the concrete was the culmination of a considerable amount of work. This time there was a concrete crew of three, plus the fellow, plus me attempting to look busy as I had never worked on a concrete job before. I was the one pulling the rebar up so it didn't sit on the ground, so it would be positioned mid-height in the concrete pad. But I had to wonder if it was any useful, as the crew would routinely walk on the rebar as they waded through the wet concrete slop to do their screeding (smoothing it out with long implements). I also did my bit and helped the fellow out with the vibrator electrical cord so it didn't get into the sloppy mix.

I walked on the finished driveway today, also soaking it with a hose each hour. The perps pulled a shit stunt, forcing a crap after a long series of shit stunts through the summer that suddenly stopped about six weeks ago. Thankfully, no toilet blocking, a rarity given their past record of toilet obstruction games at this location. But "somehow" a shit pebble arrived on the floor of the route to the washroom, found on my way out, with the cat drawing my attention to it first. I have had shit flicking games in the bathroom before, but nothing as obviously imposed as extending these games to another room.

A yellow shirt on today, always a big deal for the perps as it is rare they let me wear it. The yellow and brown color association games have been long noted, and I suppose this is par for the course.

Another perps theme they have me doing, is watering from the various hoses at the vineyard; vegetable garden, ornamental roses, petunias at the fishpond. then more powerwashing today, then hosing down the above mentioned concrete pad to keep it moist to slow down the cure and make it stronger. In the latter instance, using a green hose on the S end, and a blue hose on the N end. And at this rented residence, I do hand irrigation (=watering) of the plants that don't quite make in the range of the underground sprinklers. Different colors of hoses, and differing combinations of hose material.

A get-my-attention stunt this morning; driver of a pickup coming head on in my lane, 80' away before he yanked it back into his lane. And no excuse of bicyle or anthing else, just a blatant oncoming vehicle on a tertiary artery that has profuse traffic whenever I am driving there.

In the evening, a wacko woman in the checkout lineup getting way too close, then grabbing my items on the checkout belt, and when I objected, she went into a babble about "stuff", re-using the same word I got stiffed with. The faux nutter is a favorite perp guise, along with faux vagrants.

Vineyard- all over the place, the owner doesn't want to commit to what kinds of wines he wants to make. The contractor vintner came by to tour the vineyard, and I was tagging along. I didn't get any pressure washing done today, it seems they need to string out this job as much as possible

An amazingly warm and cloud free day, unlike yesterday's cloud games, aka contrails. Shirt off again, now past the fall equinox and I am still picking up a little tan. I did bunch counts, and crop estimates. Only 200kg of Pinot Noir is forecast, which will equal 120 liters of wine at the general 60% Kilograms to Liters yield conversion. Not much of a crop there, but only 71 vines. About 5000 vines in Pinot Blanc, all contracted to the aforementioned party.

The double notice jerkaround from the Post Office again; sending me a second parcel delivery attempt notice two days after the first, and I take it there and they say it isn't available. Well of course, I picked it up yesterday. Then to the alterations woman who fixed the zipper in my pack, botched the job of making shorter shorts from the on-sale pair I supplied. Even the simplest tasks get sabotaged.

A one hour nap when I got back for no reason as my sleep is up-to-date.

Not quite the glorious cloud free day of yesterday, but plenty warm enough for off-shirt time of some three hours before cloud cover came over and ended my on-the-job tanning.

Back to watering, this time a blue hose from the above concrete job was used, always a big deal for the perps when they can change up hoses and nozzles. And by extension, crop irrigation pipes, sprinklers and water dispersal heads. The last vineyard I worked at was changing out their PVC ball valves and putting in the better quality brass ones for reasons that weren't explained. There was nothing wrong with the PVC ones, though they don't last in the weather as the brass ones do. No doubt the wine from this new irrigation item will be duly evaluated by the perps. Endless amounts of variation in water delivery pipes and sprinkers remains a firmament in their research objectives. And too, water itself, from various sources and that would include the bottled water industry and all the schmoes who imbibe it. The vineyard I work at has two water sources and two storage tanks. The creek water supplies the first part of the year, and the Skaha lake water the latter, coming from the S and N respectively. This is identical to their immediate N neighbor who farms an orchard. I am sure the perps like to compare the energetic properties of his orchard fruit and whatever enegetic differences there are, also considering some of the irrigation line is common, and the submain lines' delivery to the trees and vines isn't. All too exciting for perp research.

A Saturday, and in the realm of gentrified vineyard work, the start of a two day weekend. A haircut is due this morning, and the perps plant absurd ideations along with this, the second time in 6 weeks they have pulled this identical ideation theme.

The new location of the stylist I go to is the 300 block of downtown, and lo, if there isn't a Saturday market in mid-street, which makes for all kinds of passers-by, aka malingering gangstalking, though not visible from the haircut station. They even had one lying down on the curb-sidewalk (concrete-asphalt) interface, pretending to be sick or something with a female "friend" helping him. And lo, if the putative sick dude wasn't wearing plaid shorts, the perps very special fugly male wear they arrange almost year round for this town.

And continued perp-planted ideations over getting liposuction, absurd to say the least given the cost, never mind that the perps can add or substract fat as they like, and have done so in the past, under the guise of medication side effects. They have cycled me from pre-04-2002 normal (190lb) down to 180lb, then up to 215lb, and now have me at 195lb, about 5lb more than the start of this year. It is just plain tiresome to be so jerked with, in all its facets and manifestations. One year when working at a farm, they had me weighing myself on the pallet scales, and jacked with the display, indicating that I was 175lb. I wasn't losing any such weight, but the perps were consistently messing with the display.

In the waiting area of the cosmetology school,I selected O Magazine to read, though before I could sit down,  the head instructor asked me if I was "feeling strong", and I said no different than usual, and she asked me if I could do a favor and open the a gallon can of acetone as the safety cap was slipping. It slipped for me too, and I suggested pliers, but those didn't work either as they were the fixed hinge kind. She asked me if the screwdriver would work, and I said it would as a brute force method. So she applied herself to prying the cap off. She thanked me for my help, and I said it wasn't very much as she was the one that got the cap off. Anyhow, my stylist came to watch for a bit, and I suppose that is all part of the gangstalk deal, have the same in-close folks move to different places along with me before the extended contact time of sitting in her chair for the haircut. Never mind the chemical ether interaction of the acetone. And what is going on when the perps arranged two unrelated persons with hats on? One a customer that just finished something, and a woman as a "friend" of a customer.

I had the same stylist twice before, and the perps totally wiped my recall in not recognizing her. She looked a little different with heavy eye makeup, and only halfway through the haircut did I get to read her name tag and was allowed to recognize the name. I never, ever, forget a face, especially one seen at length, and even more so, I had her as a stylist twice before. For her part, she didn't make reference to any prior conversations we had and treated me like I had never met her before.

The perps have done this faked "forget" mind fuck before, often in service job personnel. They wipe my recall to the point of only having a vague notion that I might of seen the person before, and augment this with the person having much different makeup and/or wearing heavy glasses and not offering any recognition. Go figure.

Back from the haircut, and it is always a big deal then; ambulatory gangstalkers at the ready, and later a siren show with the big red firetruck coming down the main drag. And back to the mall where they forced me to take the fourth piss of the morning, replete with the shiftless loitering males and quite a pong too. At the LD store they put on a wheelchair stalker twice in the aisle and had her loitering at the checkout, and then timed her departure to do a lead-ahead stalking out the doors to the mall. Other Fuckwits who kept popping up wherever I was also did an obligatory visit-the-wheelchair while it was posted while engaging in a financial transaction.

Onto settling accounts with the landlady who lives upstairs. I do the garden maintenance and other duties to be tallied against the rent, bringing it down by $100 or so per month. I hand watered parts of the front and backyard that miss sprinkler coverage and it was taking 20 to 25 minutes. I claimed 20 minutes and she then tells me it only takes 15 minutes. Well, OK, if I hurry it along, and do less watering per plant, maybe 15 minutes. So if she knew this in advance, why didn't she tell me to do only a quick (though not adequate IMHO) job in 15 minutes? The endless FUD and disinfo fuckery that goes on each day is relentless.

Same at the vineyard where I work; a said-to-be important task of arranging the fruit bunches to be individually suspended from the vine and not on the wire or massed with other bunches was to be done in two weeks, all six acres. A tall order without mangling the fruit and wasting some of it, but anyhow, I start the job, but he wants it faster, so I take shortcuts. Then a week later I am "finished with the vineyard" and am the assistant winemaker, cleaning up the assorted, if not disorganized equipment. So... was the fruit arranging really that important or not? I don't know, as I don't have sufficient viticultural experience, but there wasn't anyone else to do it.

Now to post this Saturday evening, as it seems that I am getting interference in posting it on Sunday evenings. No habit or routine goes unfucked with.

Monday, September 24, 2012

Power Washing

A vineyard day helping out the fellow who is building a driveway pad and deck. I now get a raise in pay and am to be aiding in the wine making process. I am "out of the vineyard" says the owner, though I don't think this will last for too long. Cleaning out bins and tanks with the pressure washer has been going on this week. A new pressure washer from the box, and lo, if the metal screws and a clip weren't missing altogether. And some kind of mouse activity in the box too with a nest of fiberglass material and the dog going sillly over the spot on the box where it was and and the chewed cardboard. No actual hole, nor any mouse thankfully, so was the mouse attempting to get out or what?

And pressure washer stalking has been a frequent perp prop for arranged proximate activity for a long time so we now have the victim (me) operating one. Not the first time though, as I have done at least two pressure washings of driveway or patio at the First Feral Family home, and once more to blast narrow holes in the ground for steel fence posts. Today, I used it for 35 min. or so and was pulled onto the concrete pad job, shooting levels. Even this simple job didn't go unfucked, having me screw up a few times. I felt in a cognitive fog all day when it isn't normal at all.

Another evening read of JFK; the Unspeakable, and a follow-on nap of an hour. This has "happened" each evening this week, four in succession. I get 8 hours sleep each night, so there is no way I need another hour. And they wipe me out with these naps as it takes a half hour to recover and be able to get on my feet again. And after reading this book, the whole Vietnam War escapade, makes some sense in a way. JFK was deeply against deepening any commitment in Vietnam, but the Joint Chiefs, CIA and others were all for it. So they got him out of the way, and Johnson stepped in as their stooge,  and commited American troops in significantly greater numbers and of course, nixing the withdrawal plan that was in place.  Someone needed to get their war on, and got rid of the one human obstacle, JFK. And of course, this repeated itself in Iraq in 2003; I don't think anyone has figured out a substantive rationale as to US involvement.

I am working on scraping ground to get a driveway pad ready for a concrete pour. Can we say "high perp interest"? Dealing with concrete, digging and slinging a pick or rake, and various soil and fill colors; pink, greenish grey and grey as well as the brownish hard pan rocks I break up.

A day of raking gravel and lightly watering it to aid its compaction. The driveway in front of the house and beside the lower level driveway is to be cast in concrete. The forms have been put in place, and I am continuing to help the builder get the levels correct, and do the grunt work as needed. It is most strange to be rendered into a foggy greenhorn, as seems to be the prevalent mind-fuck scenario. Being oneself is not allowed, but instead, I am kept in a FUD-state.

A Saturday off, and Fall equinox today, and almost as gangstalk prone as the Solstice. They were all over me with vehicular gangstalking, and made sure to parade around outside the office of the customer rep at the bank. I wanted to open a savings account to make regular deposits. That became a 20 min. exercise with the young woman showing to be both attractive (Favored) -doe eyes, small face, with some unattractive (Unfavored) features- big nostrils, no chin, and weak jaw line. No doubt considerable effort was made to bring these all together in the form of one person, but she was helpful, pleasant and competent- all one can ask for in the service sector.

But it is interesting that any personal contact with a bank rep means they like to use it as an information gathering exercise. Where one works, (and looking up a list of vineyards she had access to) one's occupation, etc. short of asking me how much I make, though that wouldn't be too hard to figure out for them.

The perps nicked my finger to draw blood, hold me up eating dinner as it was sitting on the plate, following a rage-ification over the near-everytime stunt of rejoining the just-cut quesadilla. I cut the round shape in four, and clearly it is cleaved, but the assholes rejoin the tortilla just before I attempt to lift a slice off,  finding it has been rejoined. This dumbshit stunt plays out 3x/week and I am sick fed up of it. I keep my knives sharp, per perp "need", and it cuts clean through onto the plastic cutting board, but "somehow", the slice is re-joined. (Also note the plastic cutting board was gouged overnight by someone other than me). This time they set up a faux fumble the knife stunt, and lo, if they didn't nick me with it in the process of recovering from the forced fumble. All to get a blood sample will in full rage-ication mode, though in hushed tones and not loud enough to be heard upstairs where the landlady lives. She has returned from a three week vacation...

A small venue (100 or so) concert last night, slide and guitarist and singer. This time the perps fucked me out having cash on hand to purchase a CD. The prior two performers somehow ran out of CD's and couldn't sell any of course. And what is it about purchasing a CD of a just-seen performer that is so essential to the perps? They pulled this in 2002, the start of the harassment had begun, and I was at the Seattle Bumbershoot Festival. No wonder the performers looked so freaked out when it was my turn to get their CD autographed. And so ten years later of insane and relentless abuse, why, the perps have arranged it so the performers ran out of CD's for the first two concerts I have attended, and now have screwed me out of purchasing a CD when the third performer actually had them for sale. It all fits the pattern of incremental increases in transaction/event complexity; hold it up at each stage.

Prior to the concert and during the set break, there was some strange goings on; the parade of folks going out behind me, presumably to smoke, except they were all from whom I could see from my seat.  One couple was the classic blonde and skinheaded male. One of two skinheads, he on my R, and an elder-skinhead on the L. At set break, why, the elder couple had "friends" come over and do the huggie thing and shake hands, and then stand up to block my view of the empty stage. The same deal they would pull on the city bus in Victoria for the last six years. Why is it that the perp need to visually obstruct my view on occasions?

Today, after yoga, another huggie eruption 2' behind me while I was picking up salad greens at the supermarket; the instant of touching or grasping something remains a big deal for the perps, a plastic box in this case.

Finally it dawned on me; the event of acceptance is a big deal for the perps. If I accept an idea, presumably sent to me via remote neural invasion, why, a noise goes off. The noise could be a barking dog eruption, overhead pounding, or whatever. Which also covers the organized and strange behaviors at my once work site; I expended huge effort and two prior attempts to create a database for forestry samples, with a team of four, and lo, if the small in-house user community just didn't sit there and pretend it wasn't there. A year later the same deal, and I got myself in trouble for putting a banner page for its first year anniversary that also stated no one was using it. They let it sit unused for at least four more years but through planting former co-workers in my path on the street, and a consequent "casual" (read, orchestrated) conversation revealed that they were indeed using the forestry samples database to its fullest capability. A more extreme, and also thankless, example of delayed acceptance arranged by the perps. Disparate loose ends have some commonality; it is easy when they finally let me in on a small piece of what is going on.

Yoga; stand-in-my-way stunt again, from the same woman who pulled this a few weeks ago. This time she made it more obvious; first going to the back of the room, rolling out her mat, and then "deciding" to move and set up beside me without giving one shit that she blocked my view of the intructor. Thanks a bunch.

And fierce red and orange plasma flashes over this keyboard as I type, so I will call it quits for now and get this posted later tonight.

Sunday, September 16, 2012

Drain the Coffers

That title translates to sabotage the victim's vehicle so they can purge more of his money away. Sure, $350 for the timing belt replacement at 200k km is a given, but taking out all my running lights and then shorting it so they had to be rewired for $120 was a cute trick. And taking out a light in the dash was another; an hour of shop time to get in there and put it back, was $100 (dealership shop), and the bulbs were $25. Taking out the light on the transmission shifter was also cute, having me turn on the overhead light at night to see what gear to shift in for a few weeks. No charge for that one for some reason. The total bill was $743, which translates to a whole lot of cash when working for $11.50/hour, the perp approved rate after an enforced six years of none but the bullshit disability payments I recieved.

And the perps' obsession over pissing and sabotaging indoor lighting lights and lamps hasn't gone unnoticed these past ten years of sustained and insane abuse (and before then too). Not to mention the plethora of outdoor lights, public and private, that seem to be on the fritz and on during daylight hours. The nighttime motion detector controlled outdoor lights that also go on in the daytime by "mistake" is another. Add on the curious noise eruptions when lights go off or on, on top of everything else, and one begins to understand that the properties of light, in all its myriad sources, especially including the sun (and its sunspots too), that I see or fall upon me at any given moment are of huge interest to the sick assholes who have taken upon themselves to make sure I remain totally brain trained and obedient to the Greater Nonconsensual Experiment. And not for the greater good as I see it, despite the wide involvement of all I have known in all their diverse personality types.

A warm day on the vineyard, which is not how this week started out. But everyone is glad for that, as the grapes have not ripened yet, and the heat and the light are much needed.

The owner got pissy again over arranging the fruit so it is free hanging. I was doing the job for the last three weeks with the leaves removed from the fruiting zone on one side, and all seemed OK. But now that the E. Indian fruit plucker has arrived, the other side is plucked, making the fruit much more visible, and minimal plucking on my part. I am to do the fruit arranging, except that the vineyard has to be done in two weeks, which means it has to go 8x faster. I suppose one can do less of it and skip some, and change the job to a timed event more. Attempting to get 8 rows a day done instead of one. And the owner fessed up that he couldn't really explain what he was wanting to achieve in terms of the grape cluster density.

The perps whacked me out and made me feel too tired to change back into my long pants after work. So I drove home in my shorts I had been wearing after lunch. The vehicular gangstalking was just plain nuts, as well as dithering dipshits in front of me, slowing down and being over cautious at intersections. This was the industrial area route, and not the Main Street major thoroughfare for Penticton.

And I see my new Dell 2412 IPS type monitor is now sharper and brighter two weeks after I bought it; the perps must of been working hard on adjusting my vision after the former LG TN type LCD monitor that was replaced due to a line across the screen becoming a total pain in the ass.

Plenty more forced pee-ing; 3x before I got out the door to work. Then at least two more in the first hour, and another five seconds after I stepped on this pile of volcanic landscape rock I was to shovel. As regular readers will know, the perps are obsessed with soil and rock color, and its provenance (where it came from), so for them, it was a big enough deal they had to force another unneeded piss.

Last night it was a similar theme; they had me online and looking at bathroom fans, as there isn't one here and I was looking for a portable one that doesn't need to be wired in. I was looking on Amazon. com where I get to see more selection than, and a number of wired in ceiling fans came up in the research. They then kept me in this reverie about installing one, and how I could wire it in, and at one point there was a wall mounted one, and I thought (or else it was a planted notion) this would be a much better solution as no duct work would be needed. And at this point, a sudden an irrepressible need to take a crap came on, and so I had to comply, and while on the throne they reminded me that I had installed a wall mounted bathroom exhaust fan in the basement suite bathroom in the last place I owned.  Well so what; and why all this nonsense about installing a wired in bathroom fan in the first place, ceiling or wall mount. I don't own this house, I rent, and by the time this particular model of wall mount fan got installed it would be a $700 bill. My landlady scores a bookcase for my suite for $2 at VV, so why would I even consider that she would be interested in a $700 bathroom fan for me? Absurd. And that is one more example of perp planted unrealistic ideations that can go on for 20 minutes or more before they stop suspending my reality check faculties on its feasibility. Another example of never-before (harassment) thought patterns.

The perps woke me up an hour early (at 0500h) for no seeming reason at first. But as there is another basement suite next door, and this woman, whom I have never met, gets up about then, why, we both got up in our respective suites at about the same time. I switched my schedule to awaken at 0600h this week, and so it would seem that she was sticking to her schedule and leaving the place around 0615h. And so when doing dishes and then later putzing away my extra hour, she wasn't doing anything going by the fact there was no noise forthcoming. But around 0715h some noise and coughing and hacking starts up, and then the door gets banged a few times and she was off. I leave at 0730h, and so her vehicle was gone. Like WTF; the perps arranged our schedules to be nearly identical when her routine was delayed an hour for the first time to match mine. Other assoiciated weirdness was that there was someone else creaking the floorboards while she was downstairs coughing and hacking. Anyhow, nothing is normal to say the least, and that especially includes others' behaviors and changing of their routines to match mine.

Another high cloud but sunny day, augmented with smoke in the air, on the vineyard. All in keeping with the light level dimming the perps like to put on; keeping the sun beaming through but limiting the light levels. I started out working in the vineyard, took a break to augment myself with tan intensifier to glean the last of the natural tanning for 2012. Only five minutes into the fruit placement work on this row I was working on and then I got called over to finish yesterday's landscaping work as more landscape cloth was resupplied. So... with the tan intensfier under my shorts (I hitch them up when working in the vineyard alone) I got to finish laying the black landscape cloth (over where my vehicle had been parked a few minutes before), and shovel the red and grey volcanic landscape rock. All very important to the perps this application of tanning intensfier as well as sunblock on my face. And too, they like to keep the sunlight level and exposure time limited, much more doable at this time of year, along with the additional interventions noted above, the high cloud and haze in the air.

Another perp excitement event is the weekly changeover to a new razor insert. This is a twin blade Gillette, and it has the Teflon rub strip which seems to be all important in their perp games related to ubiquitous pollutants, PFOA's from Teflon manufacturing that even polar bears have in their bloodstream. And not forgetting they have me shave my torso (front) each morning, so I must have a greater Teflon and Gillette steel signature from shaving than most males who would only shave their face. And I am sure there are perp operatives who must spend some time shaving like I do and then circulate as gangstalkers afterward, or maybe days afterward. It is curious that Friday is the typical razor insert changeover day, and with two days off, they can also test me at yoga (Sunday) and elsewhere on the gangstalker scene that is scripted with such precision.

A 73 minute phone call with my farmworker colleague (sort of) tonight. And she never once asked how I was, and what I was doing. There has been a "don't phone", and "don't respond (email)" pattern to most of my associates' behavoirs of late, so I was a little surprised at getting such a lengthy call. And she talked about the Mexican workers at her farm, and while I know a few from last year, it does leave me baffled as to why she goes on about these people, by name, whom I don't know. And I have mentioned needless name dropping as a perp objective haven't I? Just not recently or else my recall is getting wiped more than I am allowed to know.

And why is it the perps continue to attack and disable my headphones? I only got them two months ago as I needed a new pair to fit the cellphone as the PC-fitting ones wouldn't fit the jack properly. I am on my fifth pair of heaphones in ten years, and I hardly get to use any of them due to other scripted diversions. The Grado SR80 headphones were very musical, but after the perps went overt/beserk in 04-2002, they spun the metal gimbel mount in the plastic gimbel and rendered them unusable. This "happened" while they were on my head for crissakes, and I could hear the metal gimbel mount spinning at my L. ear along with the music I was listening to. I got the parts a year or so later from the Grado factory, and they worked fine for a whole CD. But then they decided that extended music listening wasn't allowed, so they disabled one headphone. I gave up, and got cheap ones, as they had already sabotaged the CD player, had me taken it in to get fixed, it worked for the same whole CD and it too was then messed with so it wouldn't play properly. Other headphones came and went, broke or were disabled, but after peeling the foam surface and creating plenty of plastic mess for a while, they left the Sony ones alone. Except that they didn't fit the recent cell phone acquisition, ergo, the new pair of Denons. But as the perps have a long history of plaguing me with interuptions in listening to music, they decided to up the ante and sabotage the headphones.

They somehow popped the locking tab out, through no action of my own, and when I attempted to fix it, which I did, they broke the head piece lug that attaches to the gimbel mount. Here we go again, fixing fucking headphones again, sending them across the country to get fixed or replaced, and on it goes. They pulled this same stunt in disabling a pair of hearing protection earmuffs back in 2004, all because they had a red band in the earmuff cup. The next pair of earmuffs were dark metallic green and with black pads. No red objects or garments allowed anywhere near my head ever since.

Later now; after having me putz online for too long this morning, the perps made me feel queasy. I got up and attended to the laundry in the washing machine and took it outside the clothesline. I started to put the laundry out, and lo, if the queasy didn't turn out  worse and they made me puke in the grass only 4' away. And a deep brown color it was too, from the chocolate at breakfast some two hours earlier that somehow didn't digest. A few more rounds of puking outside, then finish hanging the laundry, and I go inside with the basket, and lo, if another round erupts keeping me at the toilet to puke into. An inside and an outside puke color comparison is what the assholes needed. And of note, when they can have me digest a meal and shit out the digested food inside 20 minutes, one can clearly see that the perps needed a brown puke show this morning.

That wasn't all though; they had me attend to finish sharpening the lopers from last week, as I spent at least an hour getting the blade shaped and rough sharpened with a coarse diamond stone. So.. on with the outside road traffic noise while I sat at a table outside and sharpened the blade that was detached from the handles. Then it was very sharp, and then a cognitive clobbering as to how to put it together, again with extra road traffic noise outside, and eventually they let me put it together, and adding to the games by pulling parts and screws from my hand. And when I finally had it together after a painful 20 min. (it would of been five at the most if I wasn't getting dithered and fucked with), all of a sudden there was this sudden need to puke. And again, a visit to the toilet, and this time lighter brown puke, and once done and cleaned up, it was on with sharpening the Felco hand pruners. This took over an hour because someone, not me, warped the 2" blade on it somehow. Then at 1400h, onto some backyard tanning, missing the best light at this time of year. Anyhow, I skipped lunch and have only finished dinner. Hopefully it stays down. All of the above aided in keeping me house bound for the day, when I had plenty of town visiting things to do.

Sunday, and yoga was first at 0930h. This time the collection of some 15 women class members last week didn't materialize, but instead a dude instructor and another dude class member who could pass for Thomas Friedland, author of Guns, Germs and Steel and a NYT correspondent, came to do the "dude bonding" or whatever the perp rationale is. At 0920h, just those two were in the class room, doing whatever preliminary stretches they were doing. Last week, at 0915h, I walked in and all 15 women were already in place. This week, only five women came, trickling in after 0925h. Thankfully the heavily tattooed woman wasn't there, as the perps like to place her behind me so she is seen in the mirror all the time. It was like I was radioactive; they came in behind and along the wall, with a big-hips woman in black placed behind me for the in-mirror featuring. It was the first time in all my yoga of once/week (excepting farmwork summertime jobs), that there was a male instructor. No big deal, but the other dude-student put on his heavy breathing act so I was exposed to this ridiculous huffing and puffing during class. It just seemed like the noise was planted almost, as how could a supposedly fit cyclist, as he arrived in helmet and the rest of the cycling garb, be so breath-constrained by moderate yoga? When this BS comes to mind it is good to further evaluate the act to observe if it is for real, but as he "happened" to behind the pillar, so such luck. This heavy breathing dude hasn't been attending for at least six weeks, and then he shows up in this reduced class size with pre-class exposure to him and the male instructor. All too odd, this male-female mix the perps put me through, often featuring some aspect of body shape.

Said male yoga instructor came with tattoos on his wrists and inner arm, and of course I was treated to them from many angles each time I looked for pose detail. The tattoo show is another consistent perp presentation stunt. If I don't like tattoos, why is it that I am pursued for ten fucking years by all kind of planted Fuckwits who are arranged to show me their revolting self-directed disfigurements? Something to do with abreactions incurred during the mind-wiped years when aged 2 to 5 I suspect. And according to one young witness, they shaved the heads of their subjects in Montreal at the hands of the shrink-of-CIA's-bidding and tattooed their scalps for semi-permanent reference locations. And golly, I was there in Montreal, 1956-57 (aged 2) and 1958-59 (aged 4), and have next to no recall of being there when the latter stay should of been exceptionally vivid, re-visiting its iconic urban winterscape.

I was allowed to get my vehicle waxed today, but in two sessions; one this morning before the daytime sun got too warm, and this evening. And both times this parade of vehicles outside, loud to be sure, and all my nemeses; HD motorcycle noise, loud performance mufflers, hotrod muffler noise etc. The sun dropped below the hills when I had the last passenger door to wax, but there was still ample light. And just when I am about done, why, some black goo arrived on the door, needing a new cleaner. And I wasn't done that when a woman drove up, did a 180 degree turn in mid-road and blocks the driveway. She introduced herself as the new housekeeper, that for whatever reason was waiting for a friend. Said friend was at least 220lb, another Fat One, and as it turned out, they couldn't get in the house because the landlady changed the keycodes. Like WTF; the landlady from her holiday home, sent me an email last night about a new housekeeper, who arrived just as I was finishing the waxing of the vehicle, stands around waiting for a "friend", and then they cannot get in.

At least two hours of outside tanning this afternoon, without the preliminary barf scene of yesterday. Likely the last tanning of the year at this latitude, N of 49, S of 50. Another planted behavior of late is the discovering of substantial numbers of ingrown hairs on my legs. Well they never bothered me before, so why now, and why didn't the waxing ladies tell me what they looked like anyhow? I thought the few subsurface hairs that were evident were the ingrown hairs, but no, all those micro-zits have a hair buried below the surface. So this has become a "need", poking them with sharp tweezers and extracting the hair. And lo, if the dog barking noise and the people talking noise doesn't start up as I am picking at them outside while tanning. End of that exercise, and back to reading a very good book in JFK, The Unspeakable, by James Douglass. And too, the noise restarts when I pick up the book over three separate reading sessions while tanning.

Onto posting and possibly a new venture on the vineyard.

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

Switch Operation Harassment

And why is it that I am not allowed to operate a simple on-off switch? The last monitor had a plain on-off switch and the perps would either pull my finger off as I was about to depress it, or else bugger the switch so it didn't work after being depressed. This insane abusive fuckery went on at least once per day for the last three months at the old place. That is where it first erupted on a daily basis, though this kind of fuckery has been going on with less frequency since 04-2002 when I was first aware of this abusive hell I am cast into. So..., a new monitor and a new place, almost coincident to the day, except that the old monitor had to be installed first as a prior test for this new IPS LCD. Then a week later, why, the perps are harassing me the same way; pulling my finger off just as I touch it but don't depress it. They have yet to apply their switch malfunction games, but give them another week. Just another example of the functional decomposition games that go on.

Another day of vineyard work, getting the grape clusters freely suspended if they are merged into larger clusters or if hung up on an occluded shoot or leaf petiole. I am the only vineyard worker at present, so it is a little daunting as it takes a day to do a row. I got sent on some other errands on the property after coffee break, so I missed out on optimum tanning time in the vineyard, as they "pulled a cloud" over the sun for the afternoon. You read that correctly if you are a new reader; sunlight irradiation is a HUGE aspect of this harassment-nonconsensual human experimentation abuse, so they wanted me out of the vineyard for two hours or so while doing watering jobs for the vegetable garden, landscaping and vineyard roses. The sun was out finally, after early cloud cover. The forecast called for sunny, and no clouds today, and we got much more the the latter. It was only 22C at 1500h, a far cry from a week ago.

So.., after getting blocked yet again by the cleaning lady loitering in my house access area, I did not fill up my water bottle and proceeded to do vineyard work. I think it is 8 of 8 occurences on Wednesdays that the mid-50's tattooed cleaning lady "happens" to be in the lower house portion where I enter a room and go the adjacent washroom, anytime from 1000h to 1200h (noontime). And sometimes she brings an attractive young miss as a helper, and lo, if I don't encounter her too, though a lot better to look at. One time a young blonde woman was in the room as I entered, as I "needed" to get to the work log just then, and she "just happened" to be coming the opposite direction. Last week it was a thin black haired girl who said "hello" as I was passing through the adjacent corridor. She drove a late model white BMW, not the usual house cleaner's wheels. Whatever; I have given up on rational analysis of the comings and goings of the containment-scape in which I exist.

I got the phone music player working to play my Eva Cassidy playlist while working in the vineyard in the afternoon, and that was close to blissful as it gets. And lo, if the aircraft noises didn't start up, followed by 2 cycle engine noises of adjacent ATVs in other vineyards. Same as last time (last week) I play my favorite music. No helicopters today for some curious reason. Though the STRATCOM high altitude aircraft were busy laying down their background noise, and contrailing the sky. Putzing with cloud formations started early and culminated in the high overcast of the afternoon. Back to the above mentioned "pulling a cloud"; there has been a long consistent pattern of clouds coming from nowhere, or longitudinal clouds turning 90 degrees inside of a minute or so, and many other weather anomalies that seem to erupt just at key moments in this harassment, that weather manipulation is a given in my circumstances, as one of the more abused TI's that I know of. I am quite sure that they don't pull weather games for all TI's, but it seems for me, under non-stop gangstalker patrol, that weather games are routine. Not forgetting that us earthbound plebians have discovered weather engineering and yet so little is done about it. Trevor James' work is groundbreaking (here and here and here), and yet largely unknown.

I stopped in at the grocery store on the way back from work for hemp seed as I "happened" to forget last week for the big once-per-month sale they have. The parking lot was staked out with greyscale colored vehicles, all lined up against the building. I had to park nearby as all the building-adjacent parking stalls were occupied. I enter, and some sentry woman in black is standing over the plastic baskets and isn't moved to step back when I reach for one. In other words, positioned to be almost in the way, and not budging an inch. Not exactly a greeter, an not pretending to be one. About five seconds later on my way to the back of the store, the perps flash a picture of one of my former swimming team lane mates who went on a year sabbatical like at least 8 of them did over that 9 year span. And of course the perps have blanked out her name from recall, not that I would mention it  on this blog, but it has become this evening's recall bugbear. (That is, a planted notion of a memory "failure" (read, remotely invoked blank out), that often goes on for the whole evening, sometimes a day or two).

Another gangstalker was positioned exactly over the one place I was to go, so I had to get something else instead. The store was totally out of the regular cheese I buy as well. Later at the checkout this long haired 6'2" mid-fifties male is loitering around, doing pretend shopping. And lo, it was the same Fuckwit who was loitering at the checkout (obviously so) at a hardware store when the perps pulled a six members ahead checkout obstruction stunt. That was the Saturday, and today Wednesday; so why don't these strange checkout loitering dudes (mostly) get a freaking day job and leave me alone? Strangely, for a older male, he didn't have a gut hanging out in front. The perps have been heavy on "gut stalking", aka, planting obese gangstalkers around me in the last two weeks, though most have been female for whatever reason.

Vineyard work al day, alone. I am thinning and placing the grape bunches to hang freely. Much of the grape clusters hang up on stems and leaves, or else merge into a bunch of of bunches. Those dreamy pics of grape clusters means that someone went in and arranged them, otherwise they become so entangled.

Lots of music listening today, and I noticed fixed wing aircraft when switching artists (four on the day). And when listening to Jann Arden for four songs they stopped the playlist and I was obliged to listen to someone else. What was that all about? Barely warm at 23C, though enough to go in shorts alone.

Sunny all day long, though cooler, 23C or so. more shirt off and shorts on time in the vineyard. the perps like me to look down to get wire ties from my tool belt, and in doing so, see my more than ample gut they have imposed (IMHO). The reason I say that is no matter what I do, from halving my food intake to engaging in exercise, my gut will not go down. If starting farmwork anew at the begining of the season, my legs will shape up but my gut won't. Regular readers will know that the majority of the over 40's male gangstalkers have a gut protruding from their front, and they like me to see it, both head on and in profile. As always, if I cannot stand the sight of fat folk, why is it that I am being pursued by this very Unfavored sight?

The perps did something I consider strange; I should of finished this particular row of vines for bunch placement and thinning inside of four hours, but instead it took all the working day (eight hours). I cannot figure out why it went so slow when I was busy all the time. Sure, there were hundreds of second by second imposed adversities like finger fumbling and grasping sabotage, but I sense this was different, kind of an imposed slowness but not being allowed to know it.

They ran down the battery in my Android phone so no music to listen to today. which is usually the case, as they like to give me "fallow time" after extended music play. And too, they like to pump song snippets into mind from the prior day.

And why is getting a booking for vehicle service such a hassle, one with a she-he tag team it seems. I give all the particulars to a woman in service, and then she says she will phone me back in a few minutes with a booking for the loaner car. Like WTF; surely you can do it all in one call. No call back in a few minutes so I leave the phone alone, About two hours later, I get back to my phone and have a message to call a male at the service department. I return his call, and he is taking at least 15 minutes extra for lunch based on when he said he would be back. Later I call and get the same male, and he makes some excuse up about needing to go over the items I mentioned, so he does. I ask him about a loaner car and he says no problem, Wednesday next week (four working days later). So what was the big deal over getting this she-then-he tag team to go over the same items, and then the excuse from the she needing to get back to me to book a loaner car when the he could do it in the same call?

Per above she-he dialog, I sometimes get cashiers swapping in for the one who initially accepted my items, and lo, if many aren't she-then-he shows. Not forgetting the perps are absurdly beserk anytime I engage in financial transactions, so this would be prime Fuckwit games time.

09-08-2012, Saturday
I am a Mon.-Fri. vineyard worker this year, and it still feels strange to have weekends off compared to other agricultural jobs. A legs waxing this morning, and in combination with being tanned, they look great if I say so myself. I had plenty of errands to do after the appointment, and getting skunked at the 6 bay carwash as it "happened" to be busy at 1100h.  Then before that, I got skunked at Staples as they "happened" to be out of magzine boxes, the kind that are folded from cardboard flats. The perps then forced me to take a piss at the in-store washrooms, and my did the prior person stink the joint out. Real bad, and I was glad to get out there. The desk lamps were too pricey, or at least, that was the predominant ideation, though the LD store didn't have anything appropriate either. That leaves that freakshow and gangstalk nexus, Walmart as the only alternative apart from online sources. After last week's events, detailed in the prior blog posting, I am reluctant to go there ever again.

The legs waxing is at a local training school, and it was at their new location in the heart of downtown Penticton, next to a tattoo parlor. But I didn't make any mistake in finding the place, even if the receptionist had this tattoo on her R. shoulder that would come into view as she leaned forward. That she was in a bare shouldered top aided the not-at-first fugly tattoo exposure. She was a big girl I could see as she was seated, and then when the perps had me look down at her ample hips, I then realized she was a very big girl. So two Unfavored exposures in one person, a tattoo and an obese condition, and curiously, both weren't entirely evident at first, only after she either moved or my gaze was directed to see more. Fortuneately, I got to sit down and read some of O Magazine in the waiting area. I was told J--- would be my esthetician, but when this young girl in a white jacket came up, she introduced herself as E---. These name/person switcheroos are now very common since the perps went overt/beserk on me in 04-2002 and outed themselves as a beligerent and malevolent force in charge of my circumstances every mortal instant. But there is no question the perps manage my library of names and faces and also withold introductions althogether to the point of painting the host as a total rude-ass. And too, gratuitous name dropping is common; in the course of the leg wax treatment J--'s name was mentioned at least twice for me to overhear as part of the managerial banter that normally goes on with a busy establishment. And too, E--'s name was mentioned at least four time for me to overhear, as it seemed her next appointment was going to be transferred to J---. I don't know who J-- is, but I heard the name plenty enough, and it is all very curious as to why the perps must totally jerk me around with no introductions or else have me overhear names of those I do or don't know. Go figure, another considerable aspect to the abuses of the Fourth Reich.

A very sunny morning, and lo, after I had lunch, why, high cloud cover "happened" to come over and stay for the afternoon. It was still bright enough to start tanning, but they turned down the light level after an hour, so it was on with pruning some of the excessive overgrown landscape plants at this suburban property I live at. It is part of the deal for rental of this suite; I do property maintenance work at $15/ hour applied to the monthly rent. But it is not totally elective; if I stop doing my assigned duties then the rental agreement indicates that I must move out. Both good and bad; I get to shave down the rent, but I have something over my head that I must attend to. I can see how this can be exploited by the perps, say, if they were to break my foot or some other injury or condition, I am obliged to move yet again.

But of interest, it is the first time they have allowed me to live at a location where I attend to the grounds and landscaping. For the prior ten years when I lived in Victoria where my perp abetting parents live, I had my own place (they weren't allowed to have me stay with them, even if there was room), and I would visit my parent's place to do grounds maintenance, e.g. create compost piles (a perp favorite event given the amount of aircraft would over fly then, noise and all), prune plants, weeding, fix wire mesh fences to stop or curtail deer invasion and browsing, pick up pine cones, rehab mounded areas to then make contiguous with the remainde of the property etc. The only thing I didn't do was cut the lawn; my mother had this shabby outfit come each week of the growing season and fret over their poor service. So.... this is a big advance in the perp nonconsensual human research agenda; having me live at the same location where I do gardening and landscape maintenance. The past three months I lived in the wretched shared house, a suburban house and lot too, but I had no landscaping duties, largely because it was a weed-scape, save the front yard. The only thing I did for property maintenance was to help out in putting the clothesline up. Sooo... after ten years of intense and insane abuse, which included making me relocate my residence six times, the assholes now allow me to live and do (limited) garden maintenance activities at the same location. How fucking charitable.

And to continue on this theme of plant and landscape activities, they first allowed to work again in 2008 on farms, picking bulbs, harvesting crops (fruits and vegetables), aiding harvest machines, planting plants and now viticulture work in 2012. In other words, I have been run (or allowed) to take on successively greater plant maintenance duties a locations I would commute to, but until now, not where I live. And to go full circle on this, the last property I owned was a six acre farm, where I of course, took on substantial plant maintenance duties. (And we also had alpaca animals). Which begs the question, where is this all leading. (Question mark is now fucked on this normally reliable Topre keyboard). Do I get to own a vineyard next and work there too. Not on farmworkers hourly rates with farmwork visa-ed Mexicans as the competition. (Apostrophe mark is now fucked).

As always, noise is arranged at the moment I prune vines or shrubs, and today it was drive-by traffic going up this hill outside. It seems every dude in a pickup truck must now modify the muffler to make it sound extra loud, grating and downright horrid. And then of course, is assigned to drive by at excessive speeds to ensure maximum noise output. Them, and the dreaded HD motorcycle noise. I thought Labor Day would mark the end of this particular noise onslaught, but no, there are plenty of them here. April 2012 was the month this noise source erupted and got to me nearly continuously every minute when I lived in the motel unit from January to the end of May. At the last shared house, in quiet suburbia, and not a thoroughfare, why, six neighbors in the one block had HD motorcycle noise associations-activities inside of the first three weeks I lived there, not to mention the sudden build-up of ones passing through.

Sunday, yoga -15 women there, no men, and I was late and almost all were in place, including that dreaded woman with tattoos down her arm and onto her chest. Fucking awful it is, and lo, if my next door mat mate didn't have one on her ankle. The blonde instructor was way cute, and the perps made sure to transfer my gaze from her to the tattoo case much more than natural.

After yoga, I set off ot acquire garden twine, as it the recycle garden debris day tomorrow. I got screwed around on getting garden twine, twice in one store with the redshirt staff. Extensive red vehicle gangstalking, likely as the build up to cleaning my vehicle at the car wash today, with the pink foam coming out of the cleaning brush.

Chicken Run today, with these ridiculous acts that kept tailing me around the store, reprising in turns, like a deranged tag team. Couldn't get out of there fast enough.

Sharpening pruners, then great onsets of motorcycle noise, performance muffler noise etc when I picked up the long handle (red) pruners and began to take them apart to sharpen the battered blade. Not that I battered the blade, but other knife blades are also getting hacked up of late from no conventional source as I take the utmost care to ensure the blades are guarded to ensure they stay sharp.  But as the perps like me to sharpen blades and trim metal surfaces, especially with the diamond grit hones, it makes sense for them to keep dulling knife and pruner blades.

Reprise dreams of police shooting individuals in a vehicle were vivid after awakening twice in the night. And it is an all time first as I never had the same unsettling dream repeat in the night, ever.

Rain in the night, and lo, if the assholes didn't remind me that the windows were open for daytime heat escape, so I was out there in my rain coat to deal with that. Funny how I was awakened just for that too.

Busy today helping the carpenter out on deck building instead of vineyard work. As I am the only vineyard employee, the work isn't getting done. It is the arranging of the bunches so they are free hanging and not stuck on wires, leaves or shoots and are not merged into a mega-bunch like so many are. Too small bunches are also getting clipped off.

I best get this posted and keep this blog on a weekly format.

Tuesday, September 04, 2012

Triathalon Tour

Yesterday, I spent time with my niece and sister-in-law as my brother was partaking in the Penticton Ironman Trialtalon. He did the course in 14 hours, a little slow for him. Their motel was on the final 500m of the marathon, so I got to see the near-spent athletes chugging in. In some ways, it was heroic effort, but I also wonder what is in it for the perps. All these exhausted athletes wandering about among the ones that are just finishing. Last year, as part the First Feral Family games, my perp-abetting mother, daughter and ex came to cheer on my brother in his athletic glory. Anyhow, the perps decided to have me as part of the supporting family this year, as this is where I now live.

And I see the LCD-stalking, arranging a LCD device around me, (phones, laptops, Nitendo etc.) has gone one more beserk level in this shared house. I had just entered the kitchen after 30 min. of LCD viewing time on this here blog, when I saw the roomie-stalker with her laptop in the kitchen and running while she is dealing with greens in the kitchen. I thought it was bad enough she would be in the adjacent dining room with it on, and eating food with the headphones on and listening to her laptop, but taking it to the kitchen and then moving it closer to where I was is fucking ridiculous. Only two more days in this shared house if all goes according to plan. I moved some boxes to the new place, and the new landlady couldn't stop talking.

Plenty of vehicles in the gangstalking parade when I had the boxes loaded in the vehicle. All part of their brown box stalking games. And the new landlady is so helpful in taking my belongings inside the house from my vehicle. She seems a little grim, but did say she had insommia. She is revolting to look at, her gut being so prominent and much bigger forearms than I have.

A busy time after work each day; packing and humpfing boxes to the new suite, though still not permitted to move as the carpets are drying. And because of this, it looks to be a move two days away.

The perps cooperated with my moving of boxes by throwing a thunderstorm, and all manner of lurid colors in the sky; from deep grey, to yellow lit trees, to sunbeams radiating from behind a cloud. They like to arrange extra high contrast sky colors, and all the better with some intermittent rain. The heavy rain only came on once I got back to this shared house. But two evenings in succession, the assholes have made me "forget" my cell phone in the vehicle, though tonight, it will be wet outside.

And I see my latest internet order for a 24" LCD panel is getting screwed with; the credit card company hasn't put the address change through, and that messed up the supplier, and now the supplier has sent me someone else's email by mistake, so it should be a week before it gets shipped I reckon. Just when they set me up to "think"  (read, planted ideation) that it would get here this week, and I would not need to set up this one there. This LCD that I am using now has a horizontal line across it, some 4" below the top bezel, and you wouldn't believe how often the critical information "happens" to be under the imposed dead pixel line the perps have arranged. Though to be fair, this is a 2008 LCD, that didn't quite make it to its fourth year. Why are these newer LCD panels not lasting as long as the old ones?

And it "happens" that the new LCD panel is an IPS type, the same as my new phone of two months ago. So it would seem that the type of LCD is important to whatever nasty things they are pumping through our display devices. Which might be why the Samsung Galaxy Note of April 2012 was taken out in by the perps inside of two weeks, as it had an OLED display. It was working fine, and then it started having problems with freezing up and draining the battery.

Yesterday's evening was busier; re-sorting just-picked peaches, making dinner, loading boxes and moving them, and visiting my brother and family at their motel suite, taking them the haul of peaches I was permitted to take from the vineyard, as the owners said I could, and the fruit is going to waste. No one is picking it, same as back in July with the cherries. They have apples, plums, peaches and pears all ripening and no one at the house is inclined to pick them.

Another shit game at the vineyard; less messy, but still the forced shower due to the fact they blocked the toilet again and multiple attempts to unblock it with One Second Plumber somehow "failed". Then the metal-head son came back early, so he gets to unblock it. Somehow, the perps didn't want me to succeed this time, no matter how small the volume was, and have someone else unblock it. Been there, done that; the son's father had the honors about six weeks ago, and I have unblocked the remainder, about four times. I am getting yawned upon, so to call it an evening.

Moving to a self-contained suite; begining with a  cell phone takedown that complicated matters. Plus, the landlady's phone number isn't showing up for me to return calls. And as she made a vague promise to come back in the evening, I had to drive there to find out if she had returned.

With only two boxes remaining to extract from my vehicle, the perps began the sensations of needing to take a crap. I got them out and in the suite, and onto the toilet. And lo, if they didn't block the toilet bigtime.

No useful help at the phone store; one said return it and I went to the store where I purchased it to meet the Big Cleavage Blonde for the third time. She said, "a cellphone is like a computer and so one has to do a battery pull to restart it". And of course I know about this "trick", but somehow I forgot. This time, instead of hunkering down in front of me at the counter so I could see down to her navel, she had her breasts pushed up by some means, and instead of across the counter from each other, she was at the display, so I was  besider her. What I don't get is why they keep sending me to this woman who is so utterly useless in resolving cell phone problems, except "do a battery pull".

Another forced "forgot"; a single plate of the regular food at old place. And the woman in the next room had already moved into my old room. I suppose the perps wanted me to see this in person.

A Dell Ultrasharp 2412M monitor now, an IPS type of display, powered with LED lighting instead of florsescent bulbs, and lo, if the light images don't suddenly project off the screen like traffic lights and city transit bus lights (back end, brake, and turn signal lights), nice and bright and crisp and the usual delivery strangeness, 24" diagonally instead of 22", a minor upgrade for the perp games.

The new landlady didn't mention the parcel until I discovered she left me an email after going around the garden with her for an hour. This classic missed communication stunt caused me to connect the old display first, for a short session, and then to put the new Dell display in its place. It seems that the perps wanted a direct serial comparison between the two displays/

And so many visual abberations with masers floating around, plasma images ghosting in and out of view, and the overall speckled vibratory look of everything if I just sit and look at one thing, and so it goes, living in a containment-verse, as opposed to a universe.

The Firefox browser locked up when visiting a frequent TI blogger; reboot the browser, and lo, if all my opens tabs didn't get wiped. Welcome to your new place.

The house owners took off for a four week vacation. Which usually means trouble harassment-wise, as they like to get me to yell when there is no one else in the house. The provocations have increased for sure, as they normally do for at least the first week of moving into a new place. Fruit fly bombardment is a big deal now, and they materialized from nowhere and run into my face, and if I attempt to snatch them in in mid-flight, why, a blackish maser of about the same size and flight pattern erupts in mid-air and simulates said fruit fly as if it escaped from my hand.

Sunday, a day off from the regular vineyard gig, but I was busy on the many fronts that I am entangled with. The move in to this place is still in progress, the toilet is on its second major obstruction/blockage stunt, more storage things need to be acquired to get things organized, and there was yoga after last week's class was cancelled, and then onto suburban yard duties

A near collision in Walmart with a female Fuckwit-operative who nearly ran into me, seeming to be testing my peripherial vision for threats and did a good job, coming within 12" of me before I noticed as I was engrossed in merchandise evaluation, close to the shelves. There were no other aisle obstacles or personnel that would of caused her to be on a collision course, as sometimes the assholes will "wrong foot" me, and have me off balance in dodging the choreographed clusterfuck. No such excuse for her, and I was close to the shelves and not standing stunned in mid-aisle like the Fuckwits are and their Nonstop Public Rudeness Tour. This was all about testing my peripherial vision and all the better that it was a dye-job redhead, about 5'4" or so, and when she first appeared in p.v. I was looking down on the top of her red dyed (hair) head. I said, "what are you doing?" and she says "sorry" and proceeds onward down the aisle. And in a red smock for crissakes, as the regular Walmart staff blue color wasn't provocative or threatening enough. Just plain bizarre, just like the Fuckwits who do 360 degree spins in front of me on the sidewalk for no apparent reason and then stare at me afterward.

Still at Walmart, another choroegraphed cluster fuck on the way to the checkout while following babe bait, she doing her second reprise gangstalking. Then another one cutting through the checkout I was at while engaged in paying for the merchandise, who reprised in the parking lot near my vehicle. My vehicle was parked next to silver grey Mercedes E class, and who in this above $100G vehicle would be seen in a Walmart parking lot for crissakes. These  are rare as hens teeth in this town, and here it was at a Walmart pl.

Yoga was relatively calm, only about seven other class members, all women. The dude crush of past yoga classes might be over for good. But they did bring back the woman with the grotesque tattoos; down her left arm to her wrist and joined with those on her left shoulder to her left chest. Fugly to say the least, but she did place herself to my back, 10' away, and slightly to my right, so there were much less opportunities to see this disgusting disfigurement (IMHO).

No web access last night, my ISP cell phone connection just didn't connect. So I attempted to catch up on my yard duties, per the hand written notes I had taken on the walkabout with the landlady before she took off for a four week vaction with her elderly mother.

Vineyard duties are getting mundane, and so I could listen to my phone/player. The perps like to put on throbbing two-cycle engine noise concurrently, but if it gets too loud I take the headphones off and don't listen to music. much of this music hasn't been listened to in over ten years, since they went overt-beserk on me, starting out with the plasmic home invasion of significant proportions in 04-2012.

I will get this launched (aka posted) so to not carry this one on for another week.