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.

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