Thanksgiving Road Trip

10-08-2012
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.

10-09-2012
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.

10-10-2012
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.

10-11-2012
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.

10-12-2012
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 Amazon.com. 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.

10-13-2012

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.

10-14-2012
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.