Sunday, October 28, 2012

Cell Phone Service Back

My cell phone service got taken down five days ago, perfectly timed for the busiest time of the vineyard, harvest. We had 10 to 15 pickers, and one tractor going, with me doing empty bin pickups or drop offs. Extra hours were worked each day, and I worked the weekend. A much higher degree of coordination is needed, and the fuckers took out my cell phone. And too, maybe the most important reason, was that they forced me to take my calculator to work, (for calculations of additions to the wine), instead of using my cell phone app. And given the extensive perp abuse and fuckery over display screens, from calculators, cell phones of all kinds, TV, cinema etc., I should not be too surprised.

As it "happened", the cell phone service provider took down the 4G network for this entire valley (>200,00 pop.) without any advance notice, and my phone wasn't configured to switch to 3G. And thankfully I didn't get the cleavage prone blonde woman this time; her dumbshit artificial eyelashes last time were taking ridiculous to new heights.

And it is a Monday, a usual extra-beserk day for the perps, and the heavy vehicular gangstalking was quite evident. I had two wine samples with me in the vehicle, a red, and a white to drop off at the wine lab, and lo, if I didn't get snookered by one lane only road works, and not make it there by the 1600h closing time. Ergo, more time to drive around town with the two wine samples, now in my fridge.

And too, two of my contacts/errands were skunked by no one showing up, as in standing me up. The alterations lady was to be open Monday until 1700h, and I was a half hour earlier than that, and the former landlady said she would be there with some of my mail. But no, she wasn't there either, and I checked twice. Perhaps the big deal was for me to meet the blonde woman tenant, new since I departed in late August. She was cute, but the white top didn't do her look any favors, but as the perps just love to arrange clinical white clothes around me, maybe they needed to add an attractive blonde girl in the mix. Aka, an auric Favored (female, blonde, attractive) wearing an Unfavored color, (white or white garments).

A day of gainful putzing in the winery cum garage at the vineyard/winery. I got the pH meter calibrated and working, as well as finishing up on starting fermentation on two wines. I wanted to filter the white Pinot Blanc juice before starting the fermentation, but the filter wasn't up to the task. It would of taken at least four hours. The good news is that the last of the grapes were loaded onto the contracted truck and off to the winery. At 7.6 tons/acre, it was a good year.

And I say putzing, as the owners weren't proactive, and that the bin full of botrytized grapes didn't get crushed today. Tomorrow he says, but then he arranged an outside event for the afternoon. And many planted ideations about giving my resignation speech, but in fact, I have no axe to grind, and am reasonably content, harassment and fuckery aside. I am getting paid to be winemaking; a good gig, though I don't see it keeping me busy for more than a month. I get plenty of overheard telephone calls next to the garage/winery, the owners speaking with their other business that seems to be in a financial pinch. OK, I get it; this gig is short term.

And there have been way too many of these stunts in the past week; papers go missing, "forgotten" papers, forcing me to print them out when I have copies elsewhere, and on and on.

A day of calculating, weighing, and measuring additions to the wine/must as an hourly winemaker. I get to do once-hobbyist work for remuneration, a strange twist of forced/arranged fate. Two ferments are just beginning, having added the yeast yesterday, and one is further along in a malolactic fermentation. Back to the abusive reality... More planted ideations all day long, this time training my sucessor when there is none planned or intended.

No grapes were crushed or pressed today, same deal again, the managed "FUD fugue" state. Raining mostly today, and snow only 200' higher up in the hills all about. Soon, it will come down lower, maybe as some kind of perp managed progressive snow exposure stunt. They put a lot of effort in arranging snow, and all the arranged "coincidences" around it, so I can hardly wait for another snow-bound winter.

And a repeat of two days ago, going to the same three errand locations after work, and only success with one of them, not counting the supermarket. The alterations woman was in today, and didn't offer any explanation as to why she was closed on Monday during her posted opening hours. But.. she didn't have either of the alterations done, or even started. So she goes rumaging for mine, and I said "pants and shorts", and lo, if she doesn't get the same (infernal- per perp setup, above) camo shorts that were sitting on the table last time and pull them out with my pants (and my shorts, on the same hanger). So I had to explain to her that the camo shorts were not mine, and it was the black pair on the same hanger as the black pants with the seams coming apart by themselves. And I also brought in my last worn work pants, as the fly zipper just plain broke yesterday, and there are at least six mysterious slashes on the inside face of the R. pocket. (As if I was carrying razor blades in my pockets, which I wasn't). She now has two of the three pairs of work pants I own, and only because she didn't get her act together and finish the first pair, promised for two days ago. All three are black colored, and are stretch fabrics; there must something for the perps in stretch fabrics.

The second errand was to the former residence where my mail was sent, a tool catalog, and likely because the address change wasn't sent to the printers, who had an older copy. My former landlady said she thought it was for her, and that she read it through, though I don't see any evidence of it. This time she put the catalog in the mail box so I could retrieve it without arranging for her to be in.

Then onto the supermarket for a Chicken Run, the big perp event of purchasing and taking a cooked chicken home as my main protein source for the next two or three weeks. And this was because the perps added some kind of meat rotting fungi (or bacteria?) onto the chicken meat I had in the fridge. It used to be that the coldest setting of the fridge was good for keeping the cooked chicken meat for three weeks, and now it is two or less, though different makes and models of fridges. And today's Chicken Run event was likely due to perp games in keeping my after-work errand locations of two days ago the same as today. Go figure.

One quasi-vagrant dude in a red leather jacket was in the checkout when I arrived at the checkout, and then proceeds to tail me as I was approaching the aisles. I take a different aisle, and presumably he parallels me. I get the chicken, and that was it, the freakshow being a little muted today, but not much. I get to the checkout, and then the cashier in the adjacent checkout needs to dash in front of me and after another customer. Nothing new in all this checkout gangstalking and fuckery, over ten years' worth now. And lo, if the same quasi-vagrant dude wasn't her first customer, left standing there. I wait a while for the customer ahead of me, the quasi-vagrant dude finishes up his second time at the checkout, and after four minutes or so, I get through the checkout. I walk through the mall, observe the loafing dudes in their parked vehicles, a perp arrangement pre-dating their abusive onslaught of 04-2002. I am then in my vehicle, and why, the quasi-vagrant dude "happens" to be driving by. Like WTF; he should of been long gone, and here he is again, on his third reprise, four gangstalking events in all (checkout, aisle, checkout, parking lot).

After three days of the FUD-fugue, we get to pressing the Pinot Noir that had been doing its malolactic fermentation. Plenty of red juice/wine, and too, green plasma beams (12"x1" typically) "join me" when looking into the fermentation tank full of red wine. Reds and greens are often paired in the perp harassment games. A family appointment at 1500h, so I got to do most of the clean up while they were gone. Another one of those owners-vacate-the-premises to leave me by myself at their place/residence.

 A day of grape pressing in the rain, then yeast starting. At least I ducked cleaning work, as the owner's family came from Vancouver with 900 liters of apple cider that are to be made into apple wine by yours truly. I have no idea how to go about this one, but I will do the research once the owner has articulated his ambitons.

 What is this ludicrous nonsense about tailing me with vehicles, pickups usually, towing an air compressor? I know they are mostly yellow colored, but at 0730h on a Sunday morning? Not exactly church going wheels, are they?

I finished reading "The Cosmic Pulse of Life", by Trevor James Constable last night. I you want to further enlighten your TI experience and the technology behind it, this is a very readable tome. One item I found interesting was that a significant body of UFO's are living beings, and not mechanistic artifacts. There is much more in this book, and including Wilheim Riech's work, and the fact that while doing orgone energy research work, why, there was more overhead aircraft, things would disappear, and reappear and like. Been there, had it done to me, some ten years now.

And after a week of having no overhead pounding, clunking and squeaking on weekday mornings (0600-0730h), why, it re-erupted this morning. And maybe it was to accompany their yelling and screaming at each other, so to keep continuity from last night. This is the second month of my three that I will stay here, having found the landlady to have incompatible precepts about her garden work assignments. This will be my shortest tenacy ever, but in keeping with the perp imperative to have me moving residences often. The next move will make it four for the year, after a nearly four year stay at the last place in Victoria BC.

Perisistent rain this morning, with snow only 100m up the hills. An early-ish Saturday, and it now seems with the errands done, the overhead clunking, squeaking and vibration has an unerring knack of finding me. Now at the desk in the bedroom, with an overhead bedroom, they started up the usual kitchen (16' away)noise overhead. The next place, in just over a month, because of the landlady problems/jerkraounds, will have no one upstairs. Or at least, that is the plan, but "somehow" I "forgot" this cardinal rule of residence location after nine years of this bullshit, including the last Victoria location. I stayed there in a concrete steel high-rise for four years, and at least a half dozen times a week, the upstairs residents (all of them) could "somehow" shake and vibrate the ceiling which was 12" thick (concrete and steel). Go figure.

And I was to tan in the lie-down bed this morning, and on the phone I was told to come by, and when I got there, why, someone got in ahead of me, and I was offered the stand-up booth. I always use the lie-down bed as I seem to get a better tan, but as always, my physical world is manipulated by unconventional means, right down to the most minute perception and action. So, I take the stand-up booth, and lo, if I didn't "forget" that I get my face blasted too, as I always turn off the tanning bed's facial lamps. Next time, if it is a booth, a towel over the head, and of no doubt intense perp research interest, given the hat and headwear show that follows me everywhere.

And as part of the tanning adversity, the perps arranged this stinky perfumed tanning lotion, which pervades my clothes and whole day until I take a shower. So, off with the underwear in advance so it won't get tainted, and I set off to take my tan. Now duly "lit up" (or heated), I go to the LD store with a surfeit of gangstalkers around me, along with the headlights beamed on me in the parking lot. The number of Fuckwits sitting in their vehicles in parking lots has gone up tenfold since this abuse began, and now they have the "habit" of being located nearby, and a vacant stall arranged so to beam me as I get in my vehicle. In TI Talk, it is called "brighting" I believe, though I wouldn't be surprised if it relates to gravitational lensing, and localized etheric perturbances they want off/on/in me.

Same deal as always, when paying at the checkout (aka financial transaction stalking); a surge of nearby dudes while I am on the debit card machine, and one redcoat woman coursing by afterward. And my aisle stalkers seem to be able to find me at the very checkout I go to, following me.

And then another surge of dudes, four abreast with two women in front of them, in lead-ahead gangstalkiing mode when exiting the mall doors, and lo, if all by one of this party of six doesn't enter the doctor's office together. How absurd can we get; five Fuckwits in a tight cluster and in suits-sportjackets (a major rarity in this town), and they all go into the doctor's office at once. About as hilarious as the Fuckwits driving around with an air compressor in tow at 0730h last Sunday.

One dude didn't and he tailed me to withing 20' of my vehicle, first appearing to diverge from me, and then re-aligned himself to come at me, and so I change course, and lo, if a red vehicle doesn't pass between us, the driver somehow "failing" to get a parking stall and needing to make a left turn (parking lot is a right turn only) in the delivery truck bay. Said bay had a semi-trailer there when I entered the mall, now gone when I exited, a whole 10 minutes at most. And lo, if another of my LD aisle stalking male Fuckwits didn't tail me out to the parking lot with a very large purchase of toilet paper and paper towels in at least three full large bags. Yes, the toilet paper games are intense at times, and it doesn't surprise me to see the Fuckwits making large purchases and tailing me with these props, as it happens far too often. And not forgetting my extra oily olive tapenade was used in my quesadillas, and so I put one panel of paper towel between them in the stack of them in the fridge. Paper games, and logging trucks full of wood are other features of this fucking hell.

An evening at a local restaurant-music venue last night. A very Fat Girl singer this time, at least 250lb. A good jazz singer and she could do the blues too. And a single accompanying guitarist who was very good. The usual commotion around me, and all the waitering staff doing their pass-bys, if not malingering to wait for the aisle to be clear.

And lo, if I didn't have Fat Girl dreams this morning before getting up, though I cannot recall the specifics, per usual. As regular readers will know, obese and near-obese are highly Unfavored, and likely relate to a time when I was in the hands of others, and then had my recall wiped, aged 2 to 5, the Lost Years. These psychic scars persist for all time and it seems the perps need to expose me to these yet again and attempt to unravel or otherwise defeat my psychic armour I gained from their abusive excesses of the time. To which I say the same thing over again; Not My Problem, so why am I in the center of this billion dollar+ per year abusive inanity covering two countries and everywhere I go? Why are my circumstances arranged everywhere I go?

The perps backed off on the skinheads at the show last night, usually I get four or more in the line of sight, this time only one. Though, they did increase the "fuzzy heads" to at least three, from none. These are folk with afro type hair, frizzy and large, another Unfavored hair style that I likely gained from the above mentioned Lost Years, possibly when stuffed in cages with negro children, if the Indian Lake Project photos are legit, which I believe they are. No negro gangstalkers like last time when they put on two who were apparently unrelated.

Off to the Sunday yoga-stalk, the first in two weeks, and likely another full-out stalking show if the last time of a two week hiatus is anything to go by. (Usually is when it comes to yoga).

Back from yoga, with the class being filled one-by-one around me. A 0930h class, and I arrive at 0915h, and am the first there, apart from the instructor and admin person. I got my native Indian cluster to form in front of me, though without the tattoo bearing one of last time. Though, on my L. side, I had six tattoo bearing women around me. And to later find out there was another one with horrific tattoos down her arm halfway across the room on my R side.

The perps continue to wobble me for the one legged yoga poses, worse than usual today. One other male there, who made a point of standing stunned in front of me (looking at nothing) when he first arrived, and then retreated halfway across the room. Just plain bizarre these Fuckwits who have this consistent "need" to pose in front of me, and then go elsewhere. Said male was still directed to stand around me after class and keep the dude yap going for whatever reason. And one female kept her water bottle and towel across the room, next to me for some curious reason, and not at her mat like everyone else does. Another person with a "need" to hang around me, about 10 seconds in all, and then she went back to her mat, still leaving her bottle and towel near me. Like WTF; how stupid/blatant was that, putting on an excuse to arrive and loiter near me in the middle of the yoga class.

And for some reason it was mostly a seated yoga, except for the one legged poses. It seems the perps didn't want me to get much exercised in yoga today. It wasn't enough for the Fuckwits to contrive events to have me miss last week's class.

Back to toilet blocking games again; first thing this morning when there was hardly anything to block it, and then back it up (raise the water level to just under the rim) in preparation for me to take my second forced crap just before lunch. Looks like I might get out to get some more Liquid Plumber, my big outing apart from yoga this morning. Woohoo...

I am going to post this now, though if the gangstalk show gets to be super stupid at the big box hardware store, I might add an update.

Sunday, October 21, 2012

Buzzed Out Monday

Mondays are almost always fraught with extra perp abuses and stunts. Today it was being in a cognitive fog for most of the day, and combined with not very much to do. Or at least, that was the planted perception. The Pinot Noir was happily gurgling away after I started in Friday, and even to the level of a cap forming that needed to be broken up and stirred in. No rotary fermenters here, just a paddle. The six acres of Pinot Blanc is to be picked this coming Thursday, which means picking will continue through the weekend. No big deal, as I don't have a whole lot to do then, save yoga.

And the perps have been interupting my yoga attendance, and then stacking the class with many extra Unfavored parties, and tripling the overall attendance. See the prior posting for what they were up to. Why cannot they leave me alone so I can do one thing consistently? They screwed me out of swimming with the swim club, they screwed me out of running, they screwed me out of going to the gym, and now once a week yoga is getting the planned interuptions. Even being on broadcast email gets interupted; they cut me off at least three vendors, and off KELB.

And a two day blocked toilet is still continuing, all "from" a mere half cup worth, and now it is blocked in a most peculiar way. Only the shredded toilet paper is in evidence besides the Liquid Plumber that isn't doing much this time. So I must bail it out into the bathtub to try again, as the perps had it nearly brimming with plain water and Liquid Plumber after each flush attempt. That, and a few other toilet habit modifications must be mighty exciting for them. And lo, immediately following changing my clothes, when a sudden crap "need" came on, and so I drive down to the mall as a shit refugee again. I thought this inane prank session was over after I moved to my own place, but no, they had to resume this abusive nonsense. And lo, if the three tone brown dressed creep wasn't there in the parking lot to lead me into the mall, doing his trademark "lookaway-at-nothing" head turn for me to see. And of course I wasn't allowed to recognize it as such, when it is a near daily feature of the gangstalkers. And lo, if there hadn't been a recent toilet flood, and for a change, it wasn't sprung on me. I got the kiddie dialog while on the throne, something that has been very consistent for these shit refugee events.

Last week's two time lead ahead vehicular gangstalker leading me for 5km or so on my way to work,"happened" to show up again this morning, doing a mid-street U-turn. A deeper toned silver-grey van lead me from two different starting locations last week, the latter one being coming from a parked situation and proceeding ahead of me for the majority of my 5km drive to work. And today he was nowhere near the last two originating locations, but instead, doing a U-turn ahead of me and coming the opposite direction. Funny how these supposed regular commuters can change their minds and track me down over differing start times in the morning.

Other vehicular gangstalking behavior that is new is a vehicle dropping out of the sequence, pulling over to the shoulder, and then rejoining the train immediately following another vehicle. Shuffling the serial sequence it would seem on this two lane arterial road. Eastside road for the locals. And I see that Google, or someone else, has buggered the map display so I cannot make a link from it.

And too, they are doing blasting and rock removal partway along this road; a great excuse for a "holdup" and having traffic wait and pass through using only one lane. Yet another rock/earth removal job that erupts along my routes or near my work. Funny how that has "happened" for decades. It just wasn't enough to do ashphalt patch jobs all summer long and have the Ironman triatheletes pass over them twice, bicycling and then running.

The toilet made a mighty burp by itself last evening, and lo, if it didn't clear itself. More than a day of toilet obstruction, and if they want it blocked, it stays that way, no matter if it was just pee or toilet paper. To be fair, it did have at least two cups of liquid plumber in the bowl, so that would be the putative/conventional reason it cleared. After their shock-and-awe apartment invasion in 04-2002, one of the personnel who did arrive there after it was mostly over, put an inflated balloon into the toilet and flushed it so to obstruct it. As to why I let him do it I don't know, as I would of been pissed off if I had my own mind and wasn't in some kind of altered state. And ever since then, about 95% of the time, the toilet will block with solids in it, no matter how small a load.

A day off tomorrow, in advance of me working the weekend, as the grape picking will commence, with an expected crew of 12 or so. The boss says I will be busy and it will be long days. Having worked in past farm jobs some 100 to 110 hours in a two week pay period, I will reserve judgement. As one can discern, viticulture work is positively civilized compared to potato farming work.

Wedesday, and I had to run a red wine sample that was in my fridge overnight to the wine lab. Needless to say, the red colored vehicles were all around me on my five minute drive, and the vehicular gangstalking was intense. Mind you, at 0820h, any town would be busy with school and work starting at 0900h.

It would seem the perps want food and objects in my fridge to go mulitple directions; lunch food (in me), and now to a business not too far away. As part of this, I suspect that eating apples, plums and table grapes directly from the plants when having lunch at the vineyard also suits the master plan of studying food energetics. Such food would not be subject to food handling by others, storage and transport and then display and purchase at a grocery store. Nothing new there, but comparing the two, in all its energetic and color interactions continues as part of this entire life abuse and harassment theater, now running over ten years. And just to think, the perps have had many millenia to figure this out, long before food handling practices evolved, and here they are putzing away, trashing my life and grinding me down to minimum wage jobs in agriculture, at best

And while out downtown, some apparent high school dudes larking and running about playing mock tag, and lo, if it wasn't in front of the very store I was headed. They had no conventional way of knowing that of course, as it was downtown with side by side stores for four blocks or so. I hadn't been to this store before either, going there based on my search results and loosely knowing (per mind fuck dithering of recall and knowledge aquisition). And of all things, both of what I was looking for was there; longer black laces for the shoes that were delivered in yesterday's parcel, and a small pump bottle of waterproofing compound for same.

And on the fourth time (very odd store hours and mind-fucked as to recalling them), I got lucky and the alterations woman was in her store front, though it was a cute setup. At first they plugged up the parking so I had to drive around the block with one vehicle ahead, and another behind me, then a dude with a camo cowboy hat was in loiter mode outside the shop. The alterations person has the door locked even if her shop was open, and when opening the door she "somehow" dropped a pin and then couldn't find it. Neat trick that, delaying entry through a door, which so often "happens" since this abuse was sprung on me. I get in the store with my two items for alterations, and lo, if she doesn't have a pair of men's shorts on the table in the same camoflage pattern as the now-gone cowboy stalker dude. Hilarious, as in NOT.

Then when back, I spray the waterproofing solution on the shoes outside, and lo, if the perps didn't arrange a helicopter to sit and hover in one place, about 400' overhead. Like WTF; I get countless passing helicopters, but this must of been a big event for them to have it remain in place overhead. The waterproofing solution took about 10 minutes to apply and clean up, and the navy blue and white helicopter was there for at least eight of them. Only one other time have they had a helicopter stop overhead, and that was when I was at a farm job, sitting much closer, maybe 100' from the ground, and all white.

After that, the "need" to sharpen three knives on my diamond grit sharpening stones came on, as it had been delayed for two weeks or more. I use a spray bottle of non-oxidizing water (a product addition) to spray on the sharpening stones as a lubricant to cause the metal particles to be washed away. So..., big excitement for the perp planners, using two different spray bottles, one just acquired and applied outside to the new shoes, and one year old spray bottle for the sharpening stones applied inside the suite. Normally, the latter has always been done inside, but "for some reason" I elected to use it inside (still sunny and warm today).

Another toilet blocking stunt began this morning, and with the additon of Liquid Plumber, it was finally resolved this evening. Ten years of this abusive inanity, and here they are, still hounding me over taking a crap.

Back to vineyard work; picking botrytis afflicted grapes today, to save the regular pickers from selecting them tomorrow, when they start. The picking bins and pallets arrived by large semi-trailer truck, with a on-board forklift. Late in the afternoon, the owner got the forklift stuck in the gravel driveway. It started to bury the front wheel, the even tread tires not getting much traction. Even the tractor couldn't pull it out, and it buried its wheels too. Eventually, a tow truck came for $115 charge and got it out. And lo, if the end of my activities for the day didn't coinicide with the tow truck preceding me all the way into Pentiction, about 5 miles. Even more strange was the driver parking the tow truck at the far end of the property and then walked back some 100m to then deal with the bill at the house. Like WTF; why didn't he just park it close to the house once he pulled the forklift out, as that is where it got stuck. The perps had me load my vehicle and timed to see the tow truck driver coming toward me, to get the bill paid for. Then the perps reminded me they fucked me out of retrieving my pack in the house, so I had to go back and get it. This recall depletion stunt gave the tow truck driver a head start in departing, as he was at the gate, and I could then close it, rather than he. And lo, if I don't see him in profile (from the side), and he is sporting a ridiculous pony tail. Regular readers know I despise male ponytails, and male long hair, and yet the the perps keep up these antics. I have no idea how they know I might have abreactions over this kind of male hair, though it might fit the biker crowd, as it seems the perps like me to see and hear motorcycles all the time.

A busy day in the vineyard, humpfing grape bins on and off the tractor. These are the empty ones in knockdown form, made of plywood. The side action was getting the winery supplies ordered, as the owner seemed reluctant to get on with it. I was dispatched to talk to the supplier rep, had the quote changed to reflect the newest reality of four bins of botrytised grapes, something we didn't plan on last week. This was over the phone, and it seemed that she could update the quote in real time, as she was online.

I told the owner about the order and the delivery options, one dependent on a 1030h cut-off time, (0830h then) and he decided to wait awhile, as he wanted to get the bins out in the vineyard. So... two hours later, he got engaged on the topic again, and had me complete the order, including using his business charge card. I phone the office, go over the quote, and lo, if the changes I made some two hours previously didn't get on the quote. So.. I go over that again, and finally deal with the delivery options, and it seemed the 1635h bus freight was the best. One item had to be cold packed as it is to be kept at a fridge temperature, and I was told they would utilized cold packs, which was "OK as long as it doesn't spend the night in the bus station" she said.

In the meantime, as part of this building scenario, the assholes cut me off the cellular network for my phone. The "solution" in the past was to pull the battery out and put it in again. It worked the last time. But not this time, and along with messing around with the protective case and taking it off again, why the battery had suddenly discharged all by itself. (I had charged it the night before, so there was no conventional reason it was dead). I was phoneless, and contact list-less as well. Very convenient when I want to pick up a parcel for someone else at the bus freight office and my name isn't on the papers.

I leave work a little early to pick up the order at the bus depot, but enroute I "decided" to go home first because of an imminent crap sensation. I do, shower after a sweaty day, and then look for the owner's phone number online, just in case I had to phone him from the bus freight office. I figured I had lots of time as the owner's wife said the bus depot was open until 1900h. After a series of web page crashes, I finally get the owner's phone number. I head off to the bus depot admidst a heavy vehicular gangstalking show, e.g three white vehicles in front of me and one silver grey. Many others were doing "pop outs", e.g. turning onto the thoroughfare in unison with another vehicle a block further. I get to the bus depot a 1700h  and lo, if they aren't locked tight, closing at that same time. A couple of loafing camo dudes were outside, and a woman pretending to be a bus passenger also erupted ahead of me as I went around the building to find out if the freight office was open. But no, the whole place was closed. And so, a total skunk/jerkaround after being set up to retrieve this parcel for further winemaking activities tomorrow. My vehicular gangstalking posse was all over me for my return trip, and even the loafing dudes managed to show up again, two blocks away after I got held up in a vehicular cluster fuck.

And all that opened up the "FUD-gate" as they now inundate me with scenarios as to the fate of the cold packed items, along with that artfully prescient statement, "as long as it doesn't spend the night in the bus station". Thanks a fucking bunch you insane dicks.

A busy day of harvesting grapes on the vineyard. Or more like it, the pickers were busy, and I was on bin drop off duty, then unused bin retrieval (so the tractor could get to the full bins unimpeded), and some winemaking planning. I picked up the winemaking supplies at the bus stop this morning, and took them to the vineyard. Apart from making up the malolactic fermentation starter culture, most of my time was spent in harvesting support. Fine with me, all part of the viticulture experience, and what I came here for.

And my Android phone is totally dead still, the battery pull-reboot didn't work, so now what? No pics of the grape harvest, or the contrails the idiots decided to perform. And not just the regular cloud lines spanning the horizons, but discontinuous contrails. It is my pet theory that the contrails aren't always a chemical application, e.g. "chemtrails", but serve the perp aims of color games in the sky, not unlike the much more dynamic vehicular gangstalking show I routinely get. And also, the striated plasma and maser beams that are much more fleeting. Not forgetting back in May when it was warm and sunny one Sunday, and I went to the beach to tan, and there was a huge amount of contrails crisscrossing the skies. And lo, if that evening, there wasn't a news story from the Vancouver network TV, which depicted many sky shots showing the same contrail patterns in the sky. So it would seem, the perps wanted a greater audience for viewing these same contrails than just the Penticton folks (and me). In other words, the perps use the media to get mass exposure to whatever their theme/research agenda is.

A day of grape harvesting and then juicemaking; I got to handle the juice of the grapes I had just picked hours earlier, and then handle winemaking for the rest of the day. The 8 bins of Pinot Blanc were processed after the red grapes which were first thing. The big deal seemed to be about keeping me near the plastic bins and pipes while the grapes were being destemmmed and crushed. I also did my winemaker role, adding anti-oxidant to the Pinot Blanc, and pectic enzyme too.

I also added the malolactic ferment stater to the Pinot Noir, and lo, if the perps weren't up to their tricks again by placing 10"x1" long green colored plasma over the cap of the grapes when I took the lid off the fermenting vessel. This at least the second time in these same circumstances where they needed to have a green color over top of a deep red color. Exciting times in Perpvile for sure.

I have been working long days, and through this weekend, and working tomorrow too. I will post this without further ado and call this one done.

Sunday, October 14, 2012

Thanksgiving Road Trip

A road trip to Kamloops for a partial First Feral Family visit. It was my out-of-town brother and family, and my mother was visiting too. All are perp abetting of course, and stick to the approved dialog and aren't too surprised by what I say. Though, there was nothing too odd or strange about what anyone said to be fair. I did get some of the odd close-in-on-me behaviors, and a related one was the stand-behind-my-back by aforesaid criminally abetting quisling-brother. My sister-in-law was recovering from a breast reduction surgery, so for the first time, I got to see how big her middle is without her large mammaries hanging down too. Sorry to be so graphic, but I never put much thought into this, but as the perps hound me with large gutted males, and overall large females, I suppose this was a big deal for them as there was the visual and literal separation of oversized mammaries and abdomen. Such are the perversities of living in hell on earth.

I was at their house for the entire visit, and did some minor shopping on the way out of town. My one year old gumboots were mysteriously slit in the night last week, on the R forefoot. Had I contacted anything that would of conventionally caused such a split, I surely would of known about it, as it would of severely hurt my foot. So... while in Kamloops, I stopped in at my brother's store, and purchased a replacement pair of gumboots. They were made by the same manufacturer, but have olive green rubber cast into the sole, though they are predominantly black colored like most gumboots. The prior pair with the slit had a yellow colored sole insert and some yellow showing on the sole, and I suppose the perps thought it was time they pulled the yellow color from my footwear. I had just spent the last two weeks wearing them for my vineyard job, and I suppose all that activity was just too much for the perps. Or, maybe they have completed their yellow color experimentation, though that would be hard to believe as they were at it today with yellow clothing on at least one of the five motorcyclists who made up part of my gangstalking escort for the last 30 minutes of the four hour driving time today.

There were some driving strangeness by others on my way back today, though nothing life threatening. The drive-over-the-centerline (or oncoming straight at me) nonsense seems to be reserved for the in-town and secondary backroads and not the highway as best as I can tell. Funny how the perps have their own rule sets they like to keep, though occasionally they may violate them, keeping the FUD-scape dimension in all of this. (FUD= Fear, Uncertainty and Doubt).

And no inclement weather in either direction, the warm weather staying on, as it has for most of September. But the perps did want me to clean off the accumulated and resistant road dust on my vehicle, which followed waxing the vehicle about two weeks ago. And they pulled a little rain shower after putting the dust on my vehicle, which then streaked the dust, though it stayed on the vehicle. And so, the very first time I wore my above mentioned new gumboots was at the car cleaning center when I rolled into town, and before I got home. I had to cut the nylon tag tie, always a big perp deal, remove the tags, and put on my new gumboots to keep my shoes from getting wet. And lo, if I didn't discover two 1.5" splats of deep brown bird crap on the hood, which somehow arrived during my driving today, and were artfully placed behind the windshield wipers so I couldn't see them. And too, it wasn't much of a surprise that my mother gave me a bar of dark chocolate before I set off to arrange some same brown colored substance inside my vehicle. And lo, if said chocolate somehow didn't end up near a heater vent and was liquid when I retrieved it, still inside its intact wrapper thankfully. Directly into the garbage it went. And how is it that my mother has the unerring knack of getting me dark chocolate when I loathe it? Of course I wasn't allowed to think that when she gave it to me when I set off after lunch.

And I gave some local commercial grapes to my brother and sister-in-law when I visited. They were appreciated, and lo, if my brother didn't retrieve some from his grapevine for me to try. All part of the food provenance testing the perps like to do so often, and what better situation than being among the First Feral Family for testing? And no doubt, if successful, the perps will attempt to replicate this among others in other locations, e.g. where I work in the vineyard. They didn't run me out of a well paying job and into vineyard labor work after ten years just for the tanning opportunities. I am now elevated to "winemaker" at this small vineyard, though the owner said I would be picking grapes as of tomorrow, in an attempt to get the underripe ones off the vine so the larger picking force will pick the riper ones.

Back to vineyard and winemaking work, though for the latter I spent most of the day cleaning the garage cum winery. The Pinot Noir is in its cold soak phase, a whole 180kg or so. Not much by commerical standards, but the owner didn't want to do any fence work to keep the coyotes out, as they were having a good feast on them. Probably because they are the ripest, Brix at 24.5.

The perps totally befuddled me as to doing cluster sampling work, keeping me clued out about the procedure of what I had done only a week ago. Cognitive Clobbering of a new kind, and they perps have been ramping up these stunts of late. They still make me go to the wrong drawer or cupboard in my kitchen, when I have been here six weeks. Before overt harassment and abuse (04-2002), whenever I moved, I knew where everything was in the kitchen inside of 24 hours, and never, ever, made any mistakes as to the location of crockery or food thereafter. Now, with remote influencing abuse, they are still hacking me six weeks later over a rather basic recall test.

And they also screwed me out of even recalling to stop by at two stores on my way back from work this afternoon. The assholes clued me out totally, and only when I was doing some garden maintenance work afterward for the landlady did they let me know. I finished up and then went shopping, as it was a Chicken Run event. Though, to be fair, there wasn't the usual high level of gangstalking and stunts, as it was 1830h or so, and the sun had just set. It was clear they wanted me to do a Chicken Run after weeding for 40 minutes and wanted me to set off at the perps' silly time of sunset. Exciting moments in TI abuse indeed.

But they also pulled a new stunt, having me "forget" my debit card in the reader for crissakes. This has never, ever happened in the 13 years I have been using debit cards, and the assholes pulled this stunt to force me to drive back again and retrieve it. Thankfully it was at the same mall, so it was only a two minute drive from one end to the other.

They ran out of Zico coconut water at the LD store, and lo, if I didn't have a earnest staff member to help me look just then, and then do an inventory check (via a wireless headset he had on), and tell me that a truck was coming in tonight and I should check tomorrow. Quite astounding service, and an extension of the usual arrangement of the gangstalking Fuckwits standing or coursing by the instant I find a product sold out or otherwise removed from the usual location I expect. I call it the Dashed Expectations stunt, and I have at least 200/year of this venal banality.

The landlady's quirks again; another half hour or more spent pondering her email of what she wants. I simply do not know where she is coming from. She goes on about my "task management" a spreadsheet listing the what, where, when and who of a task she identifies and says it is admirable. Well, what about the work that got done? No mention of that, aka the faint praise angle. Last thing she says in the email "glad to have you on board". After two hours in a meeting last weekend which would of incurred extra complexity where she suggested a deposit from me in case I flit early, and don't fulfil my alloted work hours to earn my reduced rent. Though she never gave me a standardized rent reduction amount to bait me. And she wants me to be keeping the place neat and tidy, and not have task breakdowns like "prune the front hedge level", which is exactly what she wanted.  Why do I get these intractable "what are they/she/he on about" situations presented to me?

Work at the vineyard continues. No picking today as promised, but I did succeed in getting the garage/winery cleaned up inside. The owner/wife was ever helpfull, though from the perp perspective, doing the right thing of taking over my mopping job with the red bucket and red handled mop, as I had been temporarily diverted onto another task. The owner couple were back to bitching at each other in my presence again, resuming from where they left off yesterday.

The owner got suddenly cheap, and with the dry ice supply lasting another day, he said he wasn't going to Kelowna to get more, and to start the fermentation as soon as the juice warms up. Like WTF; he said a ten day "cold soak" for the Pinot Noir with dry ice to keep it cold (below 10C), but suddenly changes it to a five day duration as he doesn't want to make the drive (4 hours) to get more. Whatever, so much for a fermentation plan. And too, but more reasoned, for the small lot red grapes (2x 300liters) he said to use wine hobbyist supplies, not the commercial supplier. Cheaper by far, and since neither are the flagship varietal, it isn't a big deal. Pinot Blanc is the flagship grape, some 6 acres of it, and all but 1.5 tons is going to the contracted winery.

The perps pulled a shit stunt at work, the first in two months, just when I thought this form of abuse was over. A mere quarter cup of solids, and lo, if the toilet didn't self-block, and having run out of the gas cartridges because the store suddenly got rid of them, I got to use the house pump plunger. Some trapped brown water immediately jumped on my hand as I picked it up, uncleaned, and of course there was much brown water in the toilet too for the futile attempts to clear it. And lo, if the owners weren't in the adjacent room for some reason. And lo, if they first thing I dealt with afterwards was brown colored cleaning solution on its last use in getting some glass carboys cleaning. "Browning Around" I call it.

And speaking of brown, pine needles on the lawn this time; the landlady has gone into some kind of email tirade about how long it took to pick up the pine needles, even if I asked her explicitly what should be done where and how. She turned down my suggestion as to mowing the lawn and collecting the needles in the grass catcher, which could of saved an hour. She wanted the flower beds picked clean of pine needles, and that took a whole lot more time as the lawn rake couldn't be utilized. The irrational tirade continues. And did the landlady leave the irrigation system on herself as the scheduled days were Sundays and Wednesdays? I confered with her on the Saturday before, and she said she would look after it. She wrote in her email this was the reason she "had to" assume responsibilities for the manual irrigation. I got to give her credit for being an artful denial and blame artist. And of course I was prevented from asking why she blamed me for the irrigation system staying on when it was she that did it. Wrongful assignment of blame is another perp theme they like to create.

Saw Fred Eaglesmith last night; a good show, especially if you like staying connected with reality. He mentioned that at one backwoods US concert, a fan told him that the county police were detailed to watch him, per their directions from their chief. (Fred Eaglesmith does swear at times, only in the context of telling his stories about the instransigent concert and show promoters he encounters).

The landlady's latest email missive was answered just before I departed for the show, so I can only assume they wanted me riled up as part of the imposed psychic mix I will take elsewhere. I got a CD from each of the performers, and then today in the mail, I recieved my CD order from Now three CD's to listen to, all neatly stacked on my desk, and who knows what cosmic coloring and energetic interaction games are going on, especially as I listen to each in turn. One male performer and two female performers, always a big deal for the perps to assign gender interaction games as well.

And quite a few waitresses and other Fuckwits coursing around me while I was seated at the back wall of the venue. And a negro male gangstalker seated 8' away, and four stair steps down, showing off his shiny skinhead pate. And a fugly negro (apparent) woman customer was on "passing by duty" (aka gangstalking) at least 6x for the evening. And what is with the Fuckwits who mount the short flight of stairs in front of me, turn around, and then go back down? I insist that the gangstalking should at least be a highly choreographed people parade with each Fuckwit having a definite reason for going by. e.g waitresses with food, patrons on their way to the washroom etc. At least the perps let me sit against the wall so there is no one pounding the seat back like at dedicated concert seating. (The venue is a restaurant). I bought a ticket for the next concert, and lo, if the waitress tells me that the seats are limited when three quarters of them were unsold, per the venue map she filled in.


A full leg wax appointment first thing, from the lady that runs the cosmetology department, purportedly because a student didn't show up this morning. There was an interesting run up to that, as she, wearing a white coat, and a student doing the same, came at me side by side when I was waiting in the waiting area. (I initially thought that the student was doing the legs wax, and was going to be introduced to me). I have had plenty of faux clinical white coats gangstalk me over the last ten years of this insane abuse, but having two side-by-side is a new one. It would seem the perps are attempting to elicit abreactions from me as to clinical personnel (in the white coat days), coming to get me. The student showed me to the table but didn't know what to do after that as I had assumed she was doing the leg wax. Very odd indeed.

After that, when outside and attending to the laundry on the clothesline, the land lady was on the work and training offensive, but at the end I told her this whole deal isn't working. (Garden work for next month's rent credit). She didn't seem too surprised, and did not want to make a deal of leaving at the end of October in exchange for not paying me for my gardening work. So here I will remain as a reluctant tenant until the end of November. (One month's notice is legal when one pays the rent, at the end of the month).

Overhead pounding follows me from the Living room to the bedroom, and back again, all while reading The Cosmic Pulse of Life, a substantial work by Trevor James Constable in enlightening one as to the sylphs, UFO's, and the biological etheric world that exists here on this planet. And he doesn't spare orthodoxy either, even the materialim emphasis on UFO study. The author asserts, with infrared  photographic proof, that there is a huge biological component to UFOs, even if they have a shiny metallic appearance. I am getting blocked here, as there are banded plasma lines on the book page, making it unreadable. As well, plasmic lines, often in red, are dancing just over the keys of this keyboard and around my fingers as I type these very words. I haven't had this kind of stupid shit for a few years, 2006-2007 was fraught with keyboarding plasma pulsations as the last big finger typing plasmic incursion.

One last write-up before I post this. A Sunday, meaning yoga first thing, and after at least six weeks of five to eight other women only yogis, why, 15 to 20 arrived for today's class. The most noticeable contingent was the native Indians who came as a cluster of four, and one settling in to get in the way of me viewing the instructor. The party was made of two tubby females, one slender younger female, and a male ponytail. And lo, if the one in the way of the instructor didn't have a 4" tattoo to show me on the back of her shoulder, and a few more on her opposite foot. And have I mentioned that I loathe the sight of tattoos and how often the perps pander to this by arranging or mentioning them so very often? At least once per month. A higly recommended book, and I haven't finished reading it.

And I wasn't allowed to figure out the native Indian swarming thing until yoga class. I had a vagrant cluster of four of them crossing the street against the Dont Walk when driving through town, forcing me to slow down and catch the just turned red light. A fifth native Indian vagrant act crossed the street while I was stopped some 60' behind me. Soo... all to meet some more native Indians in yoga class for a first time attendance. Can we say arranged much louder than that?

And two other males joined today's yoga class; one an odd Quebecquois who seemed a little deranged, and later, a tubby skinheaded one in a red shirt to match the blonde female's shirt just in front of him. It was the tubby curly haired instructor again today, but is she ever flexible. I didn't attend last week due to Thanksgiving holiday commitments, so maybe skipping a week of yoga is a big event for perp based fuckery. Given that they haven't allowed me to attend 2x/week ever, which would make it much more effective, I can see they want to slow down my yoga attendance for whatever reasons they have. Which is really more the same; slow me down in every aspect I do, from turning a page in a book, having a vehicle, having a full time job and the complexity (to them) of a normal existence.

Onto posting this as the overhead squeaking and pounding noise has "found" me again, following me from the kitchen to the back bedroom. And too, a renewed round of extra recalcitrant toilet blocking has erupted.

Saturday, October 06, 2012

Nap Attack

Sunday yoga in the morning, and then a total stakeout gangstalk show at the CT store. For a Sunday 1030h there had to be 10x the normal shopping population while I looked for something that may not exist. The planted ideation for bleach cleaning pads so I could use them to disinfect my pruning tools was a notion that floated into mind a few weeks ago. But, even if there was a gangstalking pair posted at the cleaning supplies, I didn't see any such product. The perps just love to set up these dashed expectations, aka an acquisition skunk, where an item wasn't to be found in the store.

The trend seems to be for overweight women yoga instructors it seems; the third such specimen in four weeks. There is something the perps want me to notice about a massive ass, even if I don't care to gaze at it for long. Yesterday's haircut had this oversized woman (230lb) parading by at least four times, and she also transacting the payment and making the next booking. This large woman is the receptionist, but it seemed they wanted a slim woman in her place at first, as the haircut instructor was at the reception desk when I arrived. I call it switch and bait; Unfavored (fat folk) being temporarily swapped for a Favored (slim and attractive) woman. Go figure, but has been consistent for over ten years now.

A half hour of outside tanning time, rather incredible for this 49 degree latitude, after an early lunch, turned into a noise show of increasing proportions so I packed it in and went inside and lo, if a nap attack didn't come on. It became a two hour hole in my day on this sunny afternoon; quite the piss off as I had a number of things to do. The upstairs landlady and mother vacated the premises too, keeping the noise down. But when here, they somehow know where to find me and make noise directly overhead from extra creaky floorboards. And note, I was in no way sleep deficient to warrant a two hour nap in the afternoon.

And landlady and mother are to travel to Victoria two days from now; there has been a few people doing the Victoria trek for reasons that seem odd to me. My boss, the vineyard owner went there about four weeks ago. There is always a reason, but it seems the perps need people to follow my tracks, having lived there for 9.5 years before coming to Penticton in 01-2012, (this year).

A day at the vineyard/winery; the week-old power washer sprang a leak and won't operate at full pressure. And why would I be surprised when power washers are a favorite gangstalker prop, or have been sabotaged in the past. Even back in 1991, 11 years before the perps went beserk/overt on me, I rented a power washer once and it worked for all of two minutes and then the pump failed. The rental shop had their excuses, but I was mighty pissed off at them. And so another mystery of long ago is solved; it was the perps and their power washer fetish/fuckover games.

Windy all day, and cold too, my black fleece toque was on the first time since July when the perps finally gave up their winter weather onslaught and allowed summer to arrive. I did a survey of the grapes today, and wasn't impressed with their ripeness, and it is picking time. A sunny September was good, but we need two more weeks of good weather to compensate for the earlier poor weather. I asked my boss/vineyard owner about how last year went, and he said there was no grape ripening after mid-September as it rained from then on. Many growers got stuck with grapes they couldn't sell. My boss didn't seem to pleased about last year's weather and looked at me strange. OK, I get, it was the puppet masters jerking everyone around, and it wasn't me. Funny how all these little vignettes happen, and then go slightly strange.

And this garage winery is to be ready this week, and hardly any equipment is cleaned and checked out to see if hoses connect etc. The perps like to arrange onerous effort in the face of continued adversity, one step from futility which they like to arrange all the more.

water went on, got me up at 0215h to find out why as I am the only person staying in the house this week. the other tenant departed and the landlady and mother are in my old gangstalk town of Victoria.

I checked the house but no leaks thankfully, then outside; some sprinklers were on, some were off, most strange. And with the 10-01-2012 windstorm all day, no end of pine needles were down, and the landlady gets fussed about that. Ergo, the perps had me walking on a layer of brown pine needles over green grass at 0215h this am. Some were wet from the sprinklers some weren't. This evening, I raked the pine needles up in the last evening hour and into sunset, always a perp fave time for abuse and stunts. That, and the 6x/minute vehicular road traffic started up, hotrod-like noise, though often they are pickup trucks, a perp fave for vehicular gangstalking.

More cleaning wine fermentation vessels today, the last of the stainless steel 1000liter ones. And when I worked in the vineyard for an early two hour stretch, why, the hotrod and performance muffler noise was nearly continuous for the first ten minutes. One noisy vehicle emanated from the adjacent vineyard, drove up beside where I was, turned around in mid street, followed another adjacent road, and then came back within five minutes to repeat this noise again. The driver works at a vineyard next door, so why is doing the slow troll around me in his noisy vehicle during his working hours?

After a week of no contact, and some disinfo from my perp-abetting mother on when her trip to Kamloops was (she said Oct. 08, but it was Oct 04), I get a sort-of invitation to join them for Thanksgiving dinner there. I say "sort-of", as it was posed as a question, "are you coming?", to which my reply was "am I invited?" and the answer was something about the dinner being on Sunday, not Thanksgiving Monday. (This is the Canadian Thanksgiving). And so goes the First Feral Family communication, as the perps had me doing ideations all week as to whether I was going to get an invitation or not.

And work at the vineyard was a relative easy one, a trip to Kelowna to visit winery suppliers, tool suppliers, a CO2 supplier for carbonic masceration of the to-be-picked Pinot Noir, all 200kg of it. Not much by winery standards, but the owner really wants to make this varietal unblended with anything else. And the vehicular gangstalking was in huge numbers today, the two hour trip up, back, and at least 2 hours in traffic or the three stops we made. They even put on a two-tone brown vehicle about 200' ahead for at least 40 min., doubtless using the fugly brown color as a reference between me and him. And have I mentioned how I don't like the color brown, and the perps put on selective shows of this color? As clothing on the Favored and Unfavored alike as a common example, but only rarely on vehicles, though they are getting a little more common after a run-up of prior greyscale colors, reds, and yellows.

Other perp excitement today would be that I shaved with a new razor insert this morning, the usual face and torso shave they want me to do each day. It is something about that teflon rub-strip on the razor insert.

And having a perp operative jerk walk toward me, after parking next to our vehicle was a minor stunt they repeated twice today. They cannot get Fuckwits over where I walk, stand or sit fast enough it would seem. The boss man left me to hang around in the pressure washer section of Princess Auto, never having been to this store before. That was the call then for the staff to lay down three sections of thick electrical cable some 100' long next to me, and have me walk over at least twice, once with the boss when he came back. And can we get fuglier staff dudes next time? One skinhead, one ridiculous short wearing one and one has-been semi-vagrant. Then a parade of dudes kept coming on, with two attractive blonde women thrown into the mix, but at least eight dudes kept popping up while the boss man fucked off on me. Regular people behaving strangely is nothing new.

And I got paid today, another big perp event. At the vineyard, they even arranged to have me change my clothes just beforehand, (wiping my recall as I had no clue it was a payday), as the trip departure time was delayed so I changed back into my working clothes to mess with cleaning activity. Later, I was all set to saw off a strange metal projection on the steel bench so I could gain 1/4" to place the bench 12" closer to the wall, and lo, if that wasn't the call to get ready for the trip. Another interupted job.

A pair of 12" long, straight, jet black, intertwined hairs somehow arrived on my bathroom floor this morning. As I am brownish haired, and none are longer than two inches, I have no idea where these would of come from or whom. (Sort of; there is a certain ML of some renknown who is touted to be part of the harassment and abuse crew, and I have seen her at least twice now in these ten years of insane abuse (since 04-2002). Chances are she has been arranged to be in morphover form more often so she wouldn't be identifiable. Other planted notions, with an odd correlation episode, were that she was arranged to be in my orbit in 1995 to 2003 in various guises that I won't go into for now).

Saturday, this Thanksgiving weekend. The 10-02-2012 all day wind brought down huge amounts of Ponderosa Pine needles (think brown) and the landlady is fussed about them for whatever reason. So..., with the warm weather still, I raked and bagged for five hours. Though that wasn't the end of it as the landlady interupted after a half hour into the job and invited me in to talk about a new rent proposal. This and social banter went on for an hour and a half. Mission accomplished; have the TI victim start a job and interupt him. Straight out of the perp playbook. I though the proposal of a regular rent reduction was absurd when the workload around here will vary substantially. It just seemed like a quasi-gaming session. Not only that, but she made it more absurd in asking for a deposit on my working time, that if I didn't do sufficient house and garden work before I departed then she would have this in lieu of me getting the regular rent reduction. All too odd, and for what? Not to save on logging hours and tasks as I would do that anyway to see if the regular rent reduction is working out. When someone says that they don't want to rip one off, understand it to be highly likely that the risk just got raised. Anyhow, I gained some insight to her health; chronic back pain that can flare up if not exactly seated correctly. But it sure would help if she was 50lb lighter.

Plenty of extra drive-by noise today while I was out raking pine needles. It seems they cannot make their pickup trucks noisy enough in this town, as they must modify the mufflers.

I am onto a First Feral Family partial get-together in Kamloops tomorrow and Monday, so I am going to call this one done for the week and publish.