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.

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