Sunday, December 29, 2013

Mild Weather Christmas Season

Boxing Day in these here parts, though a regular work day in the US and of course. And what a fugly Christmas it has been in E. Canada, with an ice storm that took out power around Toronto for some 300,000 homes and businesses, as well as maritime Canada and some of the E. US. And adroitly timed two days before Christmas and adding a huge dose of FUD to those with plans at their own dwelling. As in, "will or won't they fix the power before my guests come or should I bail out now?". (FUD + Fear, Uncertainty, Doubt, a seeming perp prerogative to inflict on TI victims and the populace). That amount of weather mayhem wasn't sufficient though, as they soaked the UK and some of France in rain, and that erstwhile perp instrument, (brown) flood waters, again, before Christmas. Ho, ho from the Psychopaths Whole Stole Christmas. I know, it is all very conspiratorial, but I didn't come to this place until it was revealed to me that weather can be messed with from 3' around me, (e.g. wind around me alone as I walk), to the vehicle that I am driving, (e.g. portable rain that lands on no one else), and all the way up to local  cloud bursts and then climatic systems, though I am less certain about the latter as I don't see the personal connection, except from the "browning around" games (e.g. floods) I am consistently inundated with. Though the perps do love temperature variations, having gangstalkers ahead/behind with freezer items and hot items at the supermarket checkout. As I have come to know it, this activity represents more permutations and combinations on perturbing the ether around the victim, me.

A no-underwear drift has erupted over the last few days, aided by the wretched washing machine here at the First Feral Family (FFF) house, where more lint arrives on the clothing that it had when placed in it. Somehow, my perp-abetting mother's ditz act didn't notice all this time, and it is only partially ameliorated by the dryer, should I use it. Which makes this house lint, dust and loose hair heaven for the perps, as in having all or some of these arrive on everything, and just laundered clothing is not spared. And not to forget another key perp research topic is laundering clothes, and having them slathered in their airborne intrusive surrogates (dust, lint, loose hair) as they are removed from the dryer is just too funny for words. And why did I "decide" to spend a month here anyhow? I don't ever forget any perp games, stunts, setups or harassment abuse prone locations, and somehow I "forgot". Though, for the record, they were able to deprive me from recalling all these affronts and vile fuckery since 2006 when it became clear they could manipulate and plunder my recall.

A visit to the old folks hospital to see the FFF dementia case, my father. And getting sucked into spending longer there, as I cannot stand the sights or smells of such places. Specifically, sucked into walking around two wards I hadn't seen before, with some areas having with-it patients such that they had a small library and internet stations. My perp-abetting mother did most of the wheelchair pushing, as the game seemed to be that while she dithered and blocked aisle and doorways, there was someone to be inserted between us. Bad enough dealing with a ditz act, and then insult after injury to have seeming staff member "happen" to be where we were twice more, as in reprise gangstalkings.

Then a ruse over my father's electric shaver as it couldn't be found, and so one of the staff went to look for it, and lo, if she didn't find it and mention it to us as we were about to depart for the above walk, revealling her disgusting tattoos on her arms. Said woman had already walked back and forth 3x while I was kept waiting, but it seems someone wanted me to see her tattoos from a different location/angle/lighting conditions.

I got the dubious honor of cleaning up my father's electric shaver into the sink, as it seems hospital staff haven't much time for it. Given the large perp efforts devoted to shaving and hair tweezing (face mostly), I suppose it was yet another FFF shaving encounter.

A morning visit to a certain store, PA for now, who sell farm and auto equipment. It was a new part of town for me, though one I could readily figure out, save the perps screwing me around with an incorrect interpretation of the map before we set off. The perps just love screwing me around with incorrect maps and incorrect geographic recall. Back in the Extreme Fuckover Days of 2002, they even spoofed a street map I had of Richmond, BC (part of the greater Vancouver area). I wanted to go there for a specifi address/reason, one no doubt planted, and I could not find it anywhere for at least five minutes. Then I noticed that the street names were all wrong, on the index and on the map labels. It was totally useless and spoofed map. What kind of assholes would set that up and then fuck with a city street map in that manner? The sickest and most juvenile Fuckwits this planet has ever known. Other related stunts of that time were to kill the lighting on road signs at night, and even replace signs with others in unusual font. Kind of like in the movie(?), the Bates Motel.

And with respect to the above store visit, my perp-abetting mother needed a stainless steel bucket for her dye making activities as her enamel one had a chip in it and leached color from the steel. It just "happened" to be the identical make/size of the ss. buckets my boss had for the winery. He bought them at the same store chain, different branch, in 2012, and bizarrely, had me stand around waiting for him to come back while he toured the rest of the store. I hadn't been to a PA before, so it would of been more appropriate to show me around instead of this odd command.

A surge of six males came on when my mother was purchasing the item, with me and the cashier been given a ruse to vacate the checkout to search for a frigging flashlight, a seeming perp obsession given my mother's use of one and making sure her dipshit cover act serves to point in into my face. Can we say pit-lamping by a FFF member; I wonder if this Fuckover atrocity would of happened without her unstinting support all these 11.5 years and longer. That seems to be the burning question of late.

Next, a long known tool store, going back to 1980 when they were mail order only. Now, with some 16 branches across Canada and a tool development arm, LVT has come a long way. And lo, another dude surge, with a few cell-phoning assholes hounding me. I wanted to check out spirit levels, as they have a digital one on sale, but lo, if there wasn't any and one display wall in the relevant product area was bare. Most strange, though I should expect as much, as I was there two weeks ago, and I couldn't find the levels then.It would seem someone wanted back-to-back visits to tool stores, one I have known for some time, and one new to me as of 2012. I got to thinking how utterly insane this abuse is, putting on the above nonsense for 11.5 years.

Then out to get a tanning salon, and stop at the nearby stereo dealer. The much vaunted audiophile gear was not on sale as it turned out. Again, abounding  shiftless males inside, and a choreographed dude convergence, but no purchase on my part. As if this long running, some two months now, imposed "need" to intensely review home audio gear wasn't enough, the perps now have me fussed over looking at car audio gear too, as this is also on sale at the discount stores during this Boxing Day week long sale until year's end.

Last night dinner at the ex's and our daughter. Of special note, there were a couple (joint friends) there who I haven't seen for 7 years. Of course they look older, but did they say anything about me looking 20+ years younger? Not a bit of it. The perps kept me dulled and stupid at times, and threw in the odd stutter for good measure.

New/continuing games today; wearing a one-time laundered new shirt (teal green) I got from my out-of-town brother, and the underwear games continue, with a least two pairs gone missing, meaning another no underwear day. Funny how these keep "happening" now. Once can be sure that these advances in perp harassment and clothing color fuckery will continue when I get back to Penticton. I assume that their research games/results are most advanced and that they wish to correlate them when at my normal residence location.

At the FFF house mostly today, doing digging, weeding and plant transplanting. As always, this is of high perp interest, especially when cutting or digging up plant roots. The dog barking eruptions, the near continuous overhead extra aircraft noise (single engine prop + one helicopter), the neighbood sawyer cutting up wood on a table or chop saw, and even my own perp-abetting mother was in on the tapping thing. These "tapping attacks" erupt wherever I go, nearly always "from" roofing jobs or ridiculous house construction activity. (What builder taps once per second, assuming they are driving nails with a hammer, which they rarely do nowadays?). Though today, it was my FFF mother up to something, though she never explained why or what she was tapping. This is aided by the fact that the resident claw hammers (2) have gone missing and the one she now uses is a small school shop hammer I made in about 1970. Somehow, she had a need for this particular one, that is rarely used and kept in the basement utility room. Now, it is elevated for kitchen storage, lying on the counter. I suppose there is some kind of energetics "vibe" change in moving it from a wood desk drawer to sit on the laminate and the MDF composite wood underneath it. Woo-hoo, here we are some 11.5 years of this fucking insane abuse, and the sick-asses are moving my school-made hammer from basement to kitchen (a half story apart).

And I see that two pairs of my underwear arrived somehow, having disappeared yesterday. They were in my suitcase where I keep the fresh folded pairs, and it would of been only me who would of folded and placed them there. It was a rare case of temporarily missing clothes, though for the most part, the perps cause premature wear and color bleachings if they don't want a certain garment (purge duplicates) or bed sheet items. But as I am visiting at the FFF house, and the perps needed a no-underwear day yesterday, why, they just disappeared when I needed them. That didn't stop them from pumping me all day yesterday as to what I was going to do about this, and the most sensible answer I had was to go and purchase more, though with the intent of getting briefs without the ridiculous extra panels they so like me to have. Regular readers and TI's will know the perps are totally berserk over what pairs of underwear I have, and will obstruct any efforts to rationalize them or acquire a more desired design. It would seem the perp assholes cannot get enough of having my underwear with doubled panels, which might of been the reason they blanked me out from recalling to get more when I was out in the shopping areas yesterday.

And the powerline maintenance dudes came by today, "happening" to continue work in this neighborhood on Dec. 24. These are the ones in a boom truck and with portable powered saws to cut away at tree branches and foliage that is overtopping the powerlines. I didn't think anything of it, save it being perfectly predictable gangstalking methods owing to the plethora of boom trucks I pass by since this fuckery began in 04-2002. (I have even seen extra boomtrucks that are sitting doing nothing on the job, while two others are at work). Then when the TV news imagery from Ontario and the Maritimes came on, why, no end of boom trucks cutting down trees and debris on the powerlines due to the above mentioned ice storm.

A new method of foiling online shopping erupted today; the "shopping cart" plain didn't work. I add a certain car CD deck by clicking the "Add to Cart" button, and it comes back and says nothing was added to the cart. I have had many, many screw-ups and adversity over online shopping over the past 11.5 years of this insane abuse, but taking out a shopping cart is a new one on me. It is W. Canadian chain of stores, and I especially wanted a certain deck on sale, as it did not have any red illumination on it. I am totally fed up with the amount of red flashes I get from all sources including when my eyes are closed, and don't need one travelling beside me. A certain favored make of long ago had light green and white illumination, but has now changed to blue and red. Though, they aren't the only ones. The manufacturer of interest has just blue illumination, though I do see a new entry level model with blue and red. So perhaps they are selling off the only-blue ones and don't want me want to have me. That is how it goes, or it could be a ruse to shake me down for another $50 for the next model up, also blue-only illuminated. Who knows.

A pokey day at the FFF house, having got onto running a chop saw this morning to cut a number of pegs from old broom and tool handles. It is part of a wall hung rack to have the garden tools finally hung up instead of littered in a pile. In other words, it was my turn to make wood sawing noise in the neighborhood, instead of others who noise stalked me most times I have been outside in the last two weeks. I got my usual dog barkings, aircraft noise and loud muffler noise. My perp-abetting mother sprung a meet-and-greet this afternoon, one possible time to see my daughter before she heads back to Vancouver to re-start work. No advance notice, and of course I am expected to be social and make pleasant.

And stood up; daughter and ex don't show up, all to fuel FUD or whatever the perps get from broken appointments and invitations. Also artfully managing my knowledge and anticipation, by springing this on me this morning, and not three days ago when we visited their place for dinner, per above.

What a way to spend one's time. I can hardly wait to depart this gluten-palace; all the cakes, cookies and every like British dessert has been trotted out every day since before Christmas, and for one who avoids it, this holiday season has been a gluten-feed. The perps seem to like me to have these gluten binges, as I surmise that normal mealtime portions of bread weren't sufficient for whatever toxicological objectives they have in mind. I went off gluten in about 1994, and feel the better for it, until arriving at this UK cuisine island. Or more likely, a perp arranged event, and they want me to dose up on it for whatever gluten purging research they are doing. (And likely, the human species as a whole). I am not a celiac, but have read various books including Primal Mind, Primal Body, and the author is uncharacteristically dire as to the horrors of ingesting gluten. Anyhow, these FFF visits are a cast back into the UK cuisine of old, though thankfully without the greasy foods. The "breadstalking" I sometimes get in public is one such arranged event that has a part in the gluten games, the most egregious example being a male Fuckwit carrying/balancing a loaf of sliced bread, still in its original plastic bag, on his bare horizontal forearm. I get plenty of bakery deliveries/arranged stunts when visiting supermarkets, as it seems that the loading bay at the back isn't good enough for them. So they deliver it about the time I am exiting or entering the store, and make sure there is a stack of bread in the supermarket aisle for me to walk past. And if walking past a bakery, I get the supplies delivery, e.g. a pallet of flour delivered to the street (in a parking stall) for it to sit there for half a day until unloaded.

More of TV inundation tonight; it seems they wanted me to see a repeat of 60 Minutes from various shows in the last two years; the daredevils in wing suits, the in-close polar bear photography methods, and swimming with crocodiles. All seen before, but why now when this is the middle of their season? Could be legit I suppose, e.g. low viewing numbers at this time of year, so throw a who-cares piece in.

Though, the negros-on-TV hasn't let up, with Mandela's funeral a few weeks ago, and now, advertising for the Mandela biopic. That smacks of coordination to my mind, getting a real world demise to build an audience for a film depicting the just-deceased .

Sunday night now, and I shall get this posted for another week.

Sunday, December 22, 2013

Morning Time Hindering

My perp-abetting mother upped the ante this morning by crossing my path twice, and then "needing" to use the space I am at in the kitchen, and after I relocated, needed that space too. This follow-me fuckery just drives me wild, and all the more so on account of the seeming ditz act (her), and too, screwing me out of effective countermeasures/recall or getting out of the scene altogether.

The usual shower whine shouldn't go unmentioned, even if it is every day here at the First Feral Family house. It is a "feature" that follows me wherever I inhabit; motels, past residences etc. This amazing plumbing "problem" somehow conveniently changes in pitch as I transition from torso to legs to face to hair with no other users changing the water pressure.

A day of outside soil digging; the raised beds I built for my mother about 6 years ago, are full of cedar and pine roots that grew from underneath. These are two boxes are even lined with landscape fabric, but the roots got in anyhow. All the soil is from compost I made at this here FFF, and these beds serve as my mother's vegetable garden, even if she put ornamental grasses in this year for the first time.

And it is almost identically repeatable from the last two days, the perp noises and events; overhead aircraft, neighbors that somehow arrive and make noise in their backyard, school kid voices and yelling, the tapping noise eruptions and the circle-the-block with the noisy performance mufflered vehicles. And have I mentioned how the perps just love me to be digging in soil, especially recent compost originated soil. Yesterday it was the same, though a little different in that I put a large bag of peat moss in, (read "browning" around). And too, I was cutting the offending tree roots from the bed, also a big perp deal, root handling.

And why is it I am constantly put through cycles of "shopping', aka coveting objects online usually and then getting fucked into so many different options so that I get totally stalled out? This is a perp game for sure, as I don't have the bucks for many things, and here they are, having me check out audiophile level audio equipment that is major $$. The add-on this re-current theme of imposed "needing" is a server rack to store all my electronic gear in one orderly stack. I was at the cusp of ordering a server rack online and then got suddenly cheap, and am now sifting through Craigslist for a cheap used one instead. Add in the fact that server racks typically come up for sale in larger cities, e.g. Vancouver in this province, and are much less frequent in Victoria (where I am until the first week of Jan. 2014) and all the more so when residing in Penticton. Can we say senseless churning of intention with mind-planted imagined rationales (read, planted contrary notions) to divert action? Usually they plant a reason for bailing on actually ordering, followed by spiking my interest/intentions altogether. Though another frequent stunt is to take down the web pages when ordering/paying. For the record, it is about aforementioned stereo gear (an outboard DAC, or an all-in-one player, speaker kind/make) and even getting my PC into a rack mountable case, instead of its floor dwelling location. Like whatever; this better-homes-and-gardens imposed need to be neat freak does get so very silly at times. (Though to be accurate, I am a natural neat freak, but only for the last six months have I thought of putting all my gear into a single racked stack). And also, the long past (pre-2002) is fraught with stereo gear that wasn't used much owning to life fuckery conditions that evolved shortly thereafter, and there was plenty of armchair shopping over that at the time.

A major garden dig of the raised bed in the backyard, a 4'x8' and 2' high box of landscape ties that I erected some six years ago, and even lined with landscape fabric, the tree roots got through this one as well. As usual, extra neighbor noise and overhead aircraft erupted, and they even put on a Sea King helicopter, which I don't see (yet) when living in Penticton. (Though they put on the SAR EH-101 Cormorant for at least five passes once). All that black soil and all those tree roots I had to prune are major perp interests, and hence, the extra aerial coverage. Even the absent W neighbor, a retired deputy police chief, came by to tend to some Christmas lights and once done, was gone again. Odd that some neighbors inhabit their houses while others nearly abandon them here at the FFF house. But this has been the case all round, since 2011, where it seemed an apartment entire floor was vacated.

More crisscrossing my path by the FFF mother this am, aided by a get-up screw-around, getting sacked for a 9.5 hour sleep, and finally getting up at 0940h. As of a few days ago, I set the alarm clock for 0800h, and lo, if I didn't just turn it off and go back to sleep. 

More yoga at the farm worker colleague's place last evening, this time the video featured negroes, one male, one female behind the Caucasian instructor. Talk about a made-for-me Unfavored show. And of course with someone there I couldn't (or more like, wasn't allowed to) insist on another video. The sole video babe instructor of last time would of been just fine, but I am nott allowed to dwell on Favoreds for long, before they get swapped out for Unfavoreds. And of course, as I see it, a serious negro display going on of late from all quarters, with Mandela's funeral coverage and extra negro reporters on the CBC among others and even the local newspaper. All of which erupted within a week of me arriving at the FFF for this month long stay.

Talking to the farm-worker colleague was an exercise in uninvolved discourse; I did the talking mostly, she made the odd broad statement for me to babble about, and then she did the non-responsive nodding in agreement routine. Stranger than usual, but that has been the way is has been for 11.5 years; not everyone, and not every time , but at least 20% of conversational engagements either lapse into this or a variant, that being a sudden and unexpected termination of the conversation, usually when it gets going.

And lo, if the perps didn't smear the L lens of  my glasses again, like last time, which is what they have done in formal yoga classes for the past six months.Though in the latter instance, they started with the one L lens, and now smear both at some point during class. And as far as I can tell, it has nothing to do with instructor attractiveness/Favored-ness.

The FFF perp-abetting was mother cough-stalking me when making edit changes, erupting at the very moment that I added a letter"o" to a word. Other FFF stalking is when I am plucking hairs outside my beard area off my face which begets extra plastic object rattling/flapping and pounding the stairs nearby. A few nights ago, dropping her foot on the floor in the living room while watching TV, and having the resulting vibration shake me in my chair 8' away.

Now pm; Almost a carbon copy of yesterday; FFF mother crossing my paths, and working outside on the raised vegetable garden bed with overhead aircraft. A single engine prop aircraft was doing the circling, and then played cut-the-engine games. Later the Sea King helicopter, the heli-jet, prop driven passenger aircraft, and lastly, the SAC bomber noise (now called Aircraft Strike Command). And too, neighbor noise eruptions, with the additon of the recycle garbage trucks (different from the Saanich refuse collection) which "happened" to stop at the house opposite of the backyard, and then male voices were heard jabbering away for 20 minutes. Then both trucks proceeded in opposite directions. I have seen these guys work, and they hustle, and have never had two trucks on this route in this neighborhood, but did today for some reason. Never mind this ridiculous confab of males while running the engines for 20 min. at around 1300h.

My perp-abetting mother' foot is moving to be seen in my peripherial vision; talk about restless legs, I thought it was a sleeping condition, and here we have it at waking moments and it has been totally consistent the two weeks I have been here. And consistent going back 10 years, when both FFF parents were here, often crossing or uncrossing their legs at the identical moment without them looking at each other.

Always potentially extra gangstalk prone, the solstice. Add on that I started a new shaving razor insert today, the last of a set of five, and a front torso shave along with the daily beard shaving, and you have gangstalking inanity. Only a short trim out, that became two trips as I rented a red colored deep stud scanner from that orange place, HD. Even my perp-abetting mother feigned to be interested in the results of a professional stud scanner, adding in several wall locations where I was to find them so she could hang pictures. Given her incremental batshit wacko persona I get treated too, it was a remarkable piece of recall on her part. Such is the variabilty of perp abetting behavior. And too, hanging around me and doing finger pointing and stepping into the very location I was standing at as soon as I vacated it. Add in some physical jabs to "tell me" about another wall location, and it is a tribute to mind control that I didn't take her quisling head off. Remotely invoked dociling behavior isn't anything new to me, as the perps must surely know I have no time for betraying scum, FFF Judas' all.

Then yesterday, the mere act of reading a library book (an important distinction as to where it came from), begat my perp-abetting mother on a looney monologue about Christmas paper, and she even retrieving some and showing it to me. Said book was about the Bordeaux region wines and viticulture. It is fucking bizarre that I cannot be left alone to read a book, some 15 min. into it. Though, recall in the summer of 2012 when I started a recently acquired used book on viticulture and then the perps took me down for a five hour nap (a record mid-day nap duration), and no preceding sleep deficit to account for the sleep "need". Paper rustling preceded and followed the above Christmas paper display, another of her new-found habits while staying at the FFF house. Only two more weeks to go, woo-hoo.

Snow yesterday, some 3" and then light rain all day to melt it. The perps kept me inside for most of the day, until my in-town brother came later to remove the garden waste that I had created when doing some judicious pruning here at the FFF house. Of course he wore his usual smirk when he arrived for me to see; I have already told him a year ago that his smirk will be the first thing I would attend to when free from this insane mind-fuck abuse, as in ripping it off his face. He didn't seem too concerned, and likely that was what he expected, per rehearsals. Said brother suddenly became too lazy to move the garden waste into his van, and so I had to do it, getting wet and getting some brown colored splatter on my coat.

The perps let me out today though, getting a wine making supply item as they screwed me around two days ago, when I got there at 1010h only to find that the store opened at 1030h. Of course they were all over me with vehicular gangstalking after a "skunk", aka dashed expectations.

Though today, at above mentioned store, with no other customers in the store and while paying for the item, a Fat Girl came in, and lo, if she didn't get into my L side peripheral vision with her hand first, reaching for an item some 5' away. The number of Fuckwit games over peripherial vison, from each side and from below is simply astounding. (The Walmart staff member's almost-chest butting incident of a year ago would be an example of the latter). And lo, if the Fat Girl didn't have a copper colored vehicle parked next to mine (my mother's slightly brownish silver colored Ford Escape). Can the perps get enough of this wretched copper color in my face? I don't think so, especially the red tinged copper colored ones.

Then when asking the proprietor about a wine making ingredient, she invokes the "husband" term, something the perps like to have mentioned wherever I go. And there is no rational reason for this, as  I don't chase any women, and never have. Besides, it would be smart to check for a ring first. Back in 2002, the supposed on-off girlfriend, Ms C. of the story, asked me over for dinner once as we hadn't met for a few weeks, and there she was wearing a look-like diamond engagement ring on her L. ring finger. I later asked about her marital status and she said she wasn't engaged, though didn't really explain what the ring was about. I thought it was strange that she didn't mention anything up front, but all behaviors considered, she must of been an operative for the Psychopathic Confederacy. (And yes, she was a Fat Girl, though under 200lb).

And the now-usual extra numbers of street personnel, bus stops especially, were out this last Saturday before Christmas. And lo, if they didn't put on at least four waddling males in various locations for this 20 minute driving trip. All four in shorts for crissakes, on this misty wet day. Maybe they wanted extra Fat Man exposure, following the introduction of one at the HD tool rental desk, wearing brown no less. He was most helpful, belying his inertial state, and showing me the deep scanning stud finder features. If I don't like the sight of fat people, I cannot understand why it is a 11.5  year long insane, but organized, stalking/planting theme over two countries. Go fuck yourselves, all of you in the Psychopathic Confederacy. (My polite name for the Thems).

More manipulations as to what I wore this morning, and later "forgetting". The assholes fucked me out of bringing my shirt from the shared bathroom at this FFF house, and by the time I realized it, only five seconds after I had exited the bathroom, why, my perp-abetting mother had occupied the bathroom.All my clothes were in the same pile, and I put on the jeans and then got totally scrambled to "forget" to retrieve my navy blue shirt. It seems the perps wanted me to wear a navy blue sweater with turquoise trim instead. And also screwed me out of putting on an undershirt which I always do, because of long-running games of making my sweaters get sweaty, and then cleaned more often. The kicker is that the FFF washing machine lays on more lint onto clothes than they had on them when placed in the washing machine. Only the dryer saves the day. And have I not mentioned the ceaseless and senseless fuckery over laundry, detergent choice as well as lint and hairs, sometimes teleported onto my face? Not often enough, as lint and hair eruptions are a non-stop harassment game every day and I sense my readership would become tired of the tedious repetition. The latest being that plucked facial hairs, (a new "habit" for 2013) removed from the tweezers and dropped into the sink, have an unerring knack for arriving back on my face, usually an inch or less than where they were pulled from.

The third sequential day of a light mist rain; very unusual for Victoria (in duration), unlike Vancouver. It is keeping me inside for one, and the back yard work to be completed (compost pile and raised vegetable garden bed) remains unfinished. The countless games over compost pile building and re-working is too long to recount here, but of interest, the main pile is covered over, and the compostable material in the vegetable  bed is not. And of course there are some leaks in the blue plastic tarp covering the main compost pile, those all-important (to the perps and their endless games as to the source of water) exceptions/bypasses they demand.

And the suburban neighbor opposite began "dieselling" his Ford pickup (white with faux wood brown panels) much earlier at 0815h, and actually drove it away after 20 min. of idling instead. (Unlike his prior 20 min. dieselling warm ups to then drive around the block). His new-found "habit" (since the harassment began 04-2002) of having it sit in the driveway and idling for a half hour and more, and then shutting it down, has not gone unnoticed. There have been plenty of other gangstalking idling diesel engined vehicles that have done the same. Other TI's have noted it too; my suspicion is that the high compression (greater stresses on the engine block) gives off a different EMF signature and pertubs the ether differently than a gasoline engine. Other speculations are that the different fuel properties does something similar, and we all know who likes to hound/gangstalk innocent victims with fuel tanker trucks (heating oil, gasoline, diesel), don't we?

And I see they changed the TV schedule tonight, putting on yet more news instead of the scheduled documentary on the CBC News Channel (20 here). I am now covering my L. peripherial side with my hand to avoid seeing this idiotic, frenetic and pointless foot movements and instead she started making more breathing and rustling noise, culminating in her pounding the floor with her foot to then send a vibration up my spine, possibly with some extra-conventional physics fuckery. Then she got up and left the room when she always watches 60 Minutes. The perps have no tolerance for successful defences in my case, rare as they are owing to remotely-invoked full-on cognitive befuddlement as/when needed.

And at least four days of web browsing desktop audio/stereo components, specifically a DAC (digital to Analog Converter), seems to be a high perp cause to have me decide, (but not take purchasing action) and then plant new plans the next to then force a new choice. This stupid game has gone from all-in-one players (CD, CAD, amp) to DAC's with headphone amps, to a little USB box with wires (least expensive) to then rework the last item three times (1x/day) with different models/features. Not only that, they saddle me with unreasonable "needs" (must display the file name/song/artist etc.) that are very rare except for portable players, largely owing to the many different DAC designs and features. Back in 2000, before this insane abuse began in 04-2002, they had me shopping for stereo speakers and coveting a certain pair that I never purchased. And here we are again, 13 years later, doing the same thing, though this time starting with a backup NAS computer.

Sunday night now, when I usually post a week's worth of travails, and so onto the Christmas thing this week, and another week of captivity at the FFF house after that.

Sunday, December 15, 2013

Safety Deposit Box Games

Probably a perp highlight, attempting to close out the safety deposit box that I began in 2003. The rates doubled in the last year, and since I am in Gangstalk City and staying in the First Feral Family house, it seemed like a good time to close it out. (And they totally wiped me out last year in the same circumstances). On with my new-found (ahem) initiative to close it out, and lo, if they didn't fuck me out of bringing the keys the first time. Then today's second visit, and lo, if they didn't provide two keys, and I only know of one, the one on my key ring for the last 10 years. It will be a $50 hit if I cannot supply the second key, which might be what unfolds, as the perps wiped my recall as to even owning a second key. I have no idea where it is, and don't normally have stashes of extra keys around. They suggest that I root through all my old papers to find the key, but we know who loves to send me into the crawl space, (think flexed spine, the main aerial they appear to read),  while others walk about overhead.

I haven't accessed the safety deposit box for 10 years, as it was for the purposes of stashing some personal papers, including printed versions of the harassment, and even my letter to the FBI, (lived in Seattle then), which went unanswered, even if delivered as a double registered letter. I shall scan it some time and get it posted on this site. And a few photos of burn holes in the upholstery of my then vehicle, as well as a few in the dashboard. And lo, if there wasn't a pic of Ms. C of those days, something of a rarity as she didn't like to have her pic taken. She was a perp operative of those highly abusive days, though started out as an on-off girlfriend I met on the commuter bus between Everett to Seattle. Just to think, all those commutes, every week day from July to October of 2000 were arranged and gangstalked and I was oblivious to it all. Or, in other words, I was a naive TI.

It is not every day that one closes out a safety deposit box, and even if there was escalated gangstalking and hindering (vehicle and ambulatory), and an excess of red even if this festive season is added into the mix, they did not obstruct me while in the bank. Yes, they put on extra males, but that was it.

More digging in boxes in the crawl space for long lost items (since 12-2011). I find my Grado headphones, and upon trying them out, the R channel is dead. It "happened" in late 2003. I sent the headphones to the factory to get the new gimbal mounts installed, and within a day, why, the R driver unit went dead, and still is. Sometimes these things have a way of fixing themselves (ahem), but not this time.

In the high abuse year of 2002 the perps had me take the Grado headphones to work, as having magnets near one's head caused the severely debilitating targeted head pain to abate. And lo, if the perps didn't break them in the most artful way; they remotely caused the post (vertical steel part connected to the lower plastic gimbal mount) to rotate totally independently from no conventional cause, and eventually wearing out their connection so that the gimbals dropped from the post each time I tried to place them on my head. You got that correctly; I witnessed action-at-a-distance methods to cause a static steel component on each side of my headphones to visibly spin independently and then separate from the attached part. Later, I sent them back to the factory and they repaired them. And lo, per above, if the Fuckwits didn't take out the R side within a day of getting them back. Needless to say, the perps run the show as far as headphones go, and it is the same for everything else of course. And I see the foam on the Grados is crumbling, which would make it the third time they have disintegrated. The perps did not like my yellow replacement pads especially, as they fell apart within a year.

In fact, headphones and earmuffs have been particular objects for sustained sabotage. After the Grados were sabotaged, per above, I got a different pair (green color) and they lasted a week before they fell apart, then I got a pair of so-so quality silver-grey Sonys and the perps finally left them alone. Ditto for ear muffs; my long running pair (white with red foam covering) had the padding break up, so I got a new pair (black with red band in the muff) from a local store. The perps then destroyed these by having the plastic headband ball joint in the muff's socket seize up on both sides and make them dysfunctional. My present earmuffs (green, with black trim) ear pad is breaking up, and the Fuckwits have sabotaged three successive attempts to replace the pads. They somehow, don't fit, even if it is the same model number etc.

And my black shoes I left at the First Feral Family house back in 12-2011 (when I packed up my apartment), have gone missing. I understand my out-of-town brother came to visit here twice this year, but my shoes do not fit him. So why did the perps fuck me around, reminding me when packing that I had them here to cause me not to take any city shoes with me in my luggage. And so, another jerkaround theft, now having me wear my city snow boots all the time while here. Said brother didn't mention anything about having my shoes by "mistake" when I visited in September this year.

A visit to the perp's only permitted buddy-shill yesterday, my farm-worker colleague, to practice yoga with her and the DVD she had. So here we had perp heaven for an hour or so; an active LCD display with an attractive female demonstrator, a spinning DVD in the drive unit, and all those back bends and stretches, that being yoga. And to add to the list, I was working out on a towel that I formerly owned, and gave my colleague back in 11-2011. Said towel was now light grey, formerly an almond white. Given the insane bullshit that goes on over towels, why am I surprised?

And too, she showed me some of her horticultural hand tools, the ones that cut or dig, some of them recently sharpened. And we do know about how the perps are obsessed with cutting edges, sharpening them etc.

 Went to my favorite tool store to pick up a web order I made two days ago. They had the order ready in a day, and when there I asked how they did it so fast. The guy told me that they make the pick-up orders at that same store; no shipping and all that, but from their local stock. The perfect integration of online and brick-and-mortar IMHO, and so many stores aren't there yet, now at least 15 years later when web commerce really started. Anyhow, the vehicular gangstalking scene was intense, though not to the level of an arranged traffic jam at 0920h thank goodness, but these "pods" (aka clusters or strings if a single lane) of vehicles in tight formation was most evident. And what about all those vehicles, at least 100 for a five minute drive, heading into suburbia at that hour? Fucking absurd, unless one applies the arranged-gangstalk-sphere model. And what about those four black colored vehicles around me at the highway connection, still sadly a grade level traffic light controlled. (No interchanges allowed here; Mackenzie and the Island Highway for locals). That is, looking beside me and ahead while waiting at the light, four black vehicles, or five if one counts the black painted steel sided 3 ton truck with a black painted trailer. And the ubiquitous ladder on the side of the trailer, the number one gangstalk prop I have come to know.

The perps are totally insane when it comes to this tool company, LVT for now. I have been a customer since 1980 in the mail/phone order days of one store in Ottawa then. Now they have 15 retails stores across Canada, and one here. Not only did the perps have me go there, but they also "readied" me by having me look at LVT catalog before heading out. The gangstalk scene inside wasn't severe, but there were at least four who routinely kept erupting in my vision, or else planted where I was intending to go. Back in the wild and insanely abusive days of 2002, they must of planted at least 100 gangstalkers in the Vancouver LVT store to get in my way and obstruct progress to get to a cashier. That was when purchasing magnets worked to abate the intense head pain they delivered when I wasn't near metal objects. Not long after that, the assholes de-gaussed the magnets, making them ineffective for the head pain protection that I could carry around with me.

Though in hindsight, having the magnets around me helped the perps, as the main EMF form that I have been allowed to detect was magnetism. As of some three years ago, when I last had access to a magnetic field detector, it was 1800 gauss. After mid 2003 the assholes have bathed me with masers (magnetic lasers -a coherent beam/form) and plasma light flashes, so I would imagine they are still hard at it, keeping me in a magnetic field, and then perturbing it with masers, plasma beams, and the biofields of the Fuckwits on gangstalking duty. And it is highly likely that the operatives and other abetting scum have done rehearsals, perhaps at the same time the prior day, and possibly afterward. All signs point to intense amounts of preparation in tailing and otherwise harassing the living shit out of me, sometimes literally.

An unholy major stake-out gangstalk at Staples this morning; my perp-abetting mother was needing a new printer as her HP packed it in. And have I mentioned how the perps just love to gangstalk and harass me over making financial transactions? Many times, though this was a First Feral Family member doing the paying, while I aided in selecting the appropriate items. And those god-awful red shirts the staff wear, and no less, the male sales assistant had a red face too! And did he ever spin this out into a near hour long protracted event; -dither, delay, go elsewhere, come back, pass by the ink cartridges 3x before dithering over these for a 10 minute hold up alone, while the choreographed swarms kept up 10' away, and eventually coming closer to then have a Fuckwit pass between us. The starter-Fuckwits began to stand around for 10 minutes at one place, doing their extra obvious fake shopping, and later rotating out so other Fuckwits could arrive in their place, and the first shift tailing us when we moved to the aisles. My mother pulled the all-time obvious gangstalking stunt by sitting on the printer box for crissakes. After the checkout, two shiftless males moved in within 3 seconds of vacating the checkout. Speakers for PC, SD card, photo paper, extra ink for the printer -I reckon this was a 60 minute exercise at least, along with the swarms of shiftless males and one Fat Girl, (a possible a certain Fat Girl) posing, looking dumbstruck in mid-aisle, not even pretending to shop.

Then onto the lighting store, as if I don't get enough pit lamping. A tour through the store, the staff staying out of sight for the most part, and nothing purchased after this 10 minute piss-around my perp-abetting mother instigated. On the way to from above, there was at least four roadworks for us to pass onto the opposite side of the road under temporary traffic control.

It was Staples, a lighting store, a diversion to find no lighting store along with a total memory blank out as it was on my bus route, and finally a grocery store where it was another unholy gangstalk. Two stocking/stalking carts at the entrance, both stacked high with brown boxes. Additionally, a gaggle of girls (~10) from a private school, but at least they were polite about stepping in my way; "excuse me" instead of these sick assed mofo's who pretend otherwise.

Later; a royal pissing match to get the new printer working, and then again with the speakers; it seems that only speakers can be plugged into the rear of this PC, and headphones at the front. And just how does the software know which is which? It did (somehow) and why was I fucked out of knowing there was a rear sound panel for audio?

I got sacked for a 9.5 hour sleep, which made for a late morning. Then add on my perp abetting mother's need to move her heavy bed to vacuum the dust underneath, and I was toast for getting downtown before the surge of people got there ahead of me. After a pissing match with the dowtown parking kiosk, I gave up. It was the first time I used it with a charge card, and as best as I could tell, there was nowhere to select the display of time/cost. The list on the display was three long, and started at 7 min. for 25cents, but I wanted longer. In the past, I had always used coins, and as one added more coins, a longer duration would show up on the list until it got to one I wanted, and then I selected it and printed the ticket. Call it selection by adding cash, but with a card, the same function isn't available of course, and I was flummoxed, aka screwed. And kudos to the perps for fucking me out of my usual ready change, and too, the woman and two children that crossed the street to arrive at the closest kiosk five seconds ahead of me. I haven't had an outrageous FU hindrance/obstruction stunt for awhile, and am glad to know that Victoria, BC hasn't lost its reputation as the Most Rude-Assed Gangstalking City in Canada. Like I have said before, in these situations I should be scooped 50% of the time it happens to me, when in fact it is over 95%. In 11.5 years of this sustained insane abuse, I have scooped a potential hindering gangstalker once or twice in 30x or more.

Though I have noticed some Penticton-developed  gangstalking moves to now occur in Victoria; an abundance of road lane straddling (center line, lane line or shoulder line), and L turns into a side street by cutting the corner and driving through the opposite (unoccupied) lane. About three months ago, in Penticton, I saw an oncoming motorcyclist do this about 60' ahead of me, the Fuckwit coming close to the corner and traversing some 30' of the opposite lane. BUT the oddity was that there was a hedge to the sidewalk and there is no way he could of seen around the corner to know that the opposite lane was unoccupied. Even a 10mph collision on a motorcycle would of sent the Fuckwit flying. So how did he know in advance he could make this bozo audacious driving stunt safely? Like I say, it is all arranged, and not just for me.

My perp abetting mother is on an extra dipshit streak thgis visit. And why is it that the perps need to do this, having things repeated, speaking at cross purposes, engendering wholesale "miss the point" stunts etc.

The joys (read, intensified perp machinations) of a new printer; A Brother this time, and no way to set a minimum default font size for crissaskes. A 14 point bold in an email comes out as 6 point plain unless I jack with the email content. Which means one has to print first to see if a small unreadable font size erupts, change the document for some greater font size, and print again. Can we say Do It Twice stupidity? And there is only one outfit that likes to have things done twice or more, often fraught with variations in output each time. Given the perps haven;t let me print color at my residence for over ten years, even with a color inkjet printer, it does not surprise me they wanted to increase the printing follies intensity while at the FFF house.

Sunday, and a quick early (1030h) trip into downtown to pick up two web ordered books at a store. The usual parade; the attractive blonde babe (Favored), then immediately shift my focus to an arranged wheelchair act(much Unfavored) and shiftless males in just-stand-there mode in mid-aisle not looking at anything in particular. More stealthy street theatre is would seem. A five strong black and white vehicular pod., waiting for a pedestrian to make a R turn prevented me from parking at the usual parkade. I couldn't make a R lane change as all these vehicles were in tight/stationary formation. And so, a 270 degree loop on alternate streets so I could park on the street for free. (Free street parking on Sundays here).

After I got out of the book store, with the wretched wheelchair act making a reprise to temporarily obstruct my egress, onto the tanning salon, the one that I frequented for two years (2010-2011) when living nearby. The weekly tanning fix has significant perp interest of course, and perhaps some mild skin browning is what they want from it. Though they tell me that the vitamin D and melatonin activity is important too. Whatever; Caucasian humans have been tanning for millenia, so I don't see why the Psychopathic Juveniles of the Fourth Reich need to take their insane agenda methods out on me.

And a faux car crash at the first major intersection after leaving tanning wasn't too much of a surprise. Two vehicles almost blocking a single through lane one way artery of downtown while they stood around pretending to exchange insurance details. No glass or debris on the road, and no rumpled body work that I could see. I have seen very elaborate faux vehicle accidents, with three police vehicles, surveyors and two tow trucks and not a single dent or item on the ground, so this red and green vehicle (only) bumper bump (if that) doesn't rate. Though, it is the first such one since 2003-2004, so now that I have returned for a month to the Gangstalking Capital of Canada, perhaps the perps are making much of this visit, though, unlike last year.

Digging out a garden bed at the FFF, and the 60' pine trees had their roots running all through this 2' raised bed from some 25' away. And lo, if the backyard neighbors didn't erupt, doing something noisy (no lawn mowers though), with the new backyard neighbor revealing himself to be a skin-headed male (much Unfavored). Then the aircraft, helicopters and fixed wing with the incessant drone noise of the latter.

I shall post this now, as Sunday evenings tend to be amorphous and unmotivated.

Monday, December 09, 2013

Gangstalk Capital of Canada

That would be where I am, Victoria, British Columbia, having flown here yesterday for visiting the First Feral Family, the quisling sick asses that abet the perps at every moment, as/when needed. Or, as it seems, perhaps the Clusterfuck Capital of Canada, the arranged confluences of ambulatory gangstalkers who cluster around me to keep me in place for a few extra seconds. Ditto with vehicles.

And what a  mighty gangstalking it was at this moment, 1600h or so, dusk time. This is when the perps go particularly nuts with showing me red and yellow colors, both of which are very Unfavored. Not to mention the "stand arounds", mostly biddies and adult males, also both Unfavored. And of course they put on the blonde babe with doe eyes to get my attention (3x in the store), and they immediately switch me to a skinheaded male (2x Unfavored) passing nearby. Then these weirds which stalked me at the small specialty grocery store then "show up" at my next stop, the ever cooperating LD store (a chain of them). That was enough to send me out of there, but of course I got held up by the prior customer at the checkout, and just when I wanted to exit, why, a swarm of three were doing their hindering thing at the door. Only the blonde babe (different one) matched my walking speed. Then the walk-directly-at-me stunt, without benefit of manners of any kind, let alone eye contact. Like WTF; who in hell walks in a busy public area without checking out where they are going?

The waxing urge came on too, having got it done earlier this afternoon. I won't say where, but for the first time, the clinician was in her vegetable garden and had a bunch of chives in her hand when leading me into her suburban basement studio. That and her black and white houndstooth patterned coat to her mid-calf. Not exactly gardening garb.

And a whole lot of eating brown colored cookies too, another "urge" that came on, largely because they were abundant at this First Feral Family house.

No chocolate allowed at the LD store visitation; the shopping baskets weren't to be found, and that made it problematic to carry the items to the cashier. Therefore, only shaving foam and for some strange reason, scar abatement product. I don't have any scars to treat, so what is this about? And if you follow the perp habits, they like me to buy items months, if not a year or more in advance of needing it. My sleeping matress in Penticton was purchased a year in advance of sleeping on it, as the former four residences all supplied a bed. (Two were winter time rate motels, and two were supplied by the landladies). Same for the cot; given to me by the farmer colleague, and unused until 06-2013). I have a pair of steel toed work boots since 2008, that I "needed" for upcoming construction work that never materialized, and they remain unworn still.

Back to the above mentioned LD gangstalk scene. Recall that the perps skunked me earlier this week at the LD store in Penticton with five gangstalkers and a stocking/stalking cart (replete with brown boxes), that now ubiquitous prop in almost every store. And in true LD store staffing style, one checkout open when there are eight of them, and all to confine me to the obstructing line up and have the customer behind me nearly up my asshole.

And arranged breakage of a French press style coffee pot at the FFF house; it somehow fell from the top shelf as I opened the door and landed on a cookie sheet with a projecting edge. Said pot was in a ridiculous plastic sheath/cover, and somehow the small amount (1/2" of 10") exposed glass fell onto the edge and pieces of borosilicate glass managed to find their way under the stove, and even some small glass in the oven dried raisins that were on the cookie sheet. And have I remarked on how the perps are fixated on grapes, raisins, wine and all manifestations of Vitus vinifera (grapes)? Even to the point of having me work in a vineyard for crissakes, then winemaking. And how is it that my perp-abetting mother could arrange the coffee pot to be leaned against the cupboard door after closing it, when she cannot reach that high in the first place, never mind the high art of booby-trapping the coffee pot?

I was at Basia Bulat concert last night; lots of pacing by the black dressed staff, particularly the Fat Man. he must of done at least 20, if not 30, repeat pacings such that he would come withing 15' of me and then turn around. He was in a staff-only area, with some of the best seats in the house bounded from public use. All to have me look through two sets of railings, on one side of this pillar that was an excellent view blocker. On the other side, a single set of railings, with another person managing to move their head just ahead of me to obstruct my sightline.

The table next to me was in high rotation; mid-show departures all to be re-stocked with new gangstalkers who duly followed the prescribed choreography. Other tables also emptied before the end of the show and I finally got to see the performer directly and not through railings. I am not 100% sure the performer saw me from 40' away, standing on a lit stage, but she did through an extended look in my direction. I have had the odd staring from a stage performer in the long past and I often wondered how they came to single me out.

The opeing of the night club was an exercise in being fucked with; the show ticket stated it starts at 2000h, and I got there at 1930h to get a seat. Somehow I managed to find an open side door and ended up in the club when no one was there. I asked someone, and they said the doors open at 2000h, then an one hour wait for the first billed performer, then Basia and band doing one set, an hour total. I suppose that is houw goes in the big city.

A mostly white colored food services tractor trailer was arranged to arrive in mid-street at 1940h while I was killing time in the nearby cofffee shop, another gangstalk scene where I had to allow some strange individual past me, like being at the cinema. The food service truck was parked in mid street, blocking at least 8 vehicles on the street, for which no owners/drivers needed for the 30 minutes it was parked there. The supposed delivery was then unloaded so the tailgate deliveries were onto the crosswalk that I used to later line up at the nightclub. By the time that I lined up and into the club, it was 30 minutes and this strange evening time food delivery was still in progress.

As I haven't been in a real nightclub for at least two decades, it was quite the experience; these red and green laser lights being shot onto a 3' mirrored ball made for some extra special shadows and lighting games. Too, a mandatory coat check was new to me, as well as a male washroom attendant who supplied soap to all hands, who likely enforced hand washing.

Light now came down for duration of the day, though nothing stayed and it served to mute colors and darken the sky for a shopping with my perp abetting FFF mother.  It was at a big box store which she rarely goes to, and lo, if all the culls and fat ones of Lnagford didn't surface somewhere. These two unshaven 50-ish males, one in camo, took the cake for the Extra Obvious Gangstalk Act (EOAGA) of the day. They arrived together and right behind me and got into a blather session at the shellfish section, following my mother's dithering games to create proximate  lingering when she wasn't looking for shellfish anyways. A good 8 minutes later, said shiftless males were still there. And might of they been fishermen (dressed and looked like it) doing some kind of extended loitering test over the distance dependent vibe (energetics) of shellfish? Or were they the Loyal Organized Psychopathic Scum-inals (LOAPS, and they often put on a loping gait) I so dislike to see? It really doesn't matter when it comes to the Unfavored Fuckwits, all of who should be dispensed with. One cute blonde babe was outside on a 2x reprise, as in faux waiting, and after that it was near full-on Unfavoreds inside; shiftless males, dithering biddies, very large Fat Girls, and a few brown-stalkers, either brown skinned or brown coated or both. My mother was dressed in two-tone brown for crissakes, so it is a no-brainer that they want to replicate my brown loathing at the First Feral Family household with the gangstalking Fuckwits elsewhere. And have I not said it umpteen times; if I don't like the color brown (and others), male vagrants and the rest of the scruffy-Fuckwits, why is it an 11.5 year long run of insane abuse in two countries at the hands of those who had followed and prescribed my every move for the prior 47 years? Just go fuck yourselves.

There are plenty of cookies and biscuits on hand to stuff me with brown colored food at all hours. So far, (1300h), a shut-in day, getting up late to then have my mother use the vehicle.

And I see that the Wish List function of one of my very favorite tools and gadget suppliers has disappeared. Unlike Amazon, the wish list box is to pop up when an item is added to the cart, and lo, if it isn't there. First make it user-interface adverse, then withdraw the item anyhow, having searched for it. Kind of like running the gauntlet for yet more abuse at the end of it. Nothing new in that concept being applied to me more than most. Said tool store was physically visited in the absolutely insane abusive harassment days of 2002, and lo, if there wasn't a near overflow of gangstalkers there, the busiest I have seen the store, as I had visited it a number of times previously. And too, I was purchasing magnets, a sure fire way to stop the debilitating head pain beams they were firing at me. Magnets are are always a big defence method, provided they don't de-gauss them, which is what they later did, rendering them ineffective. If you can create a random generating method for EMF on your person you might have a hope of avoiding takeover and this fucking abuse. So far, I don't think anyone has succeeded as the perps can also remotely defeat electronics and physical objects in my experience.

Gratuitous mentions from my perp-abetting mother abound, getting slightly more bat-shit wacko than the last time I was here at the FFF, about a year ago. As an example, she starts telling me about the front door keys, and leaving the light on for my evening time return from above concert. None of which has any bearing as I would be driving into the garage with her vehicle, using the garage door opener in the vehicle and accessing the side house door for which I would have a key on the vehicle key set anyhow. No question the perps like to lay on logically incongruous statements and have me process them, and then discard them as irrelevant. Information acceptance or rejection (and auto-rejection from long discredited sources) is also a meta-theme for the perps, not just the content. Doddering dipshits and like brethren have no end of play in the Unfavored-sphere. And the Gangsstalking Capital of Canada has more than its fair share.

I was kept busy all morning driving all over town with my abetting mother yesterday. To Walmart no less, where it turned out that she didn't want anything but a 2L carton of milk for crissakes. All those ambulatory Fuckwits doing the clusterfuck choreography, and one even pretending not to notice that he was walking beside my mother, coat arm to coat arm in the same direction but looking opposite directions, pretending that they didn't know. Once I saw this bullshit I said out loud, "you two know each other, and yet they remained in this faux formation for at least five more seconds.

I got the skunk at one store, my perp-abetting mother staying in the vehicle while this envisioned item, a plastic scraper for wine tanks, was found to be not available. A similar stunt some two years ago was done in the same way; I was looking for a safety item, knee pads, and there was nothing availible at this safety supply store only two blocks from today's skunk. (A "skunk", same as in fishing, is when one goes to a store for an expectable item and it is unavailble (for reasons of low stock, recent sell off, or never had the item in the first place).

It is the season for concerts it seems; at the Allison Crowe concert and young woman two pews ahead with coiffed hair (blonde on top, black underneath) must of scratched her head and lifted her hair at least 30x, not to mention leaning on her mother's shoulder for at least 20 min.of the hour long show. Like WTF; who but some Pschopathic Operative would appear so ridiculous in public. She didn't seem any bit deranged or mentally deficient, and yet this protracted hair pawing and head leaning exercise. The woman directly in front of me did a pointless stand-up for 5 min. of the 15 min. break. As the concert was in a church, with stain glass windows, it make for extra lighting fuckery. Not only flickering the lights inside, but also turning on the lights outside in the parking lot.

Another oddity at the Allison Crowe concert; she is very bubbly and talkative between songs, and at one point she was admonishing herself for "umms" and "ahhs" while speaking. Then she spoke some more, using umms and ahhs, and then said "I feel like I am in a loop (as in a repeating (self looping) tape). Then she said something most odd, "I'm not supposed to say that". Some of the audience laughed, but like WTF; why would she say something like that unless rehearsed in advance?

And to no surprise, I was had the row behind me empty of anyone, when it was a full house. Past concerts at larger venues with row seating have had the row in front empty while the seats were in demand.

Only one pacing male at his concert, apparently a sound man, and some dozen times unlike the above mentioned Basia Bulat concert/club visit.

A Sunday, and more keeping me busy, my farm worker colleague and her ex-husband somehow got their calamities together and were 30 min. late for an 0830h breakfast. Though to be fair, they phoned ahead and the restaurant staff were informed and helpful as to their tardiness. And for my part, the perps had me "forget" to switch my phone from silent mode to ring mode after last night's concert, making me unavailable. And what is fucking point of that? Sure, they needed to have me sit/wait by myself and drink four cups of coffee, thereby getting browned, aka, brown resonant or whatever the perps do with their color games. And lo, if I didn't get a huge bowl of brown porridge when the food order finally came. No, it wasn't listed as such on the menu, but somehow I keep blundering into things and foods I don't normally eat.

And what is it about online orders, the perps having me initiate three so far, and picking them all up at the reespective stores in town.

Later, raking brown colored leaves in the backyard of the FFF house for a few hours. Time to get this posted for the week, less it run on for another.

Monday, December 02, 2013

Bill Payment Obstructions

A sudden realization came on that I hadn't paid my two month end bills online for next week. One of them was "forgotten" and the other did not send an email notice as they usually do. (I don't get them by snail mail anymore, and am totally dependent on this electronic link to deal with regular monthly billings).

Like WTF; why are the perps dithering me to "forget" and then reminding me at the 11th hour, and having only one of the two regular bill payment notices blocked? This insane shit started early on in the harassment (05-2002) when they blocked all my snail mail payments, at least six or so, all mailed at once. This happened when I found some stamps near my door and used them. All those bill payment mail letters weren't received and I had to hustle to get them paid again. (About two months later they were delivered, for which my accounts were credited). And the timing was such that my mother accompanied me to Seattle and did ironing while I worked at my desk and figured out what I owed and re-sent checks. I did not know she was a full blown life long (my life that is) perp abettor then, only that things were terribly confusing as to who was playing what side. And what insane purpose does this serve, delaying or obstructing bill payments? (And the take-away lesson is DO NOT use stamps that are "found" (as in arranged to be found)).

Other related BS at this time was that the perp cranked up the kilowatt hours on my power bill, and I had an anomalous 50% increase of power use. I complained to the power company and got nowhere of course. And they didn't seem too interested as to how this occurred. And what insane shit does this serve?

Off to a local concert tonight; the perps seem to like me to see male performers of late, though picking three good ones so far. My acceptability bar is much higher for male performers for whatever reason the perps deem (and can psychically detect).

I still have an ISP bill for a service that began Nov. 01 and I have no idea when it is to come or if it too got blocked.

Back at my place after the morning snow threatened to become a problem, but it didn't, and turned to rain. I will try to get this much reduced posting off.

Now that two weeks of house sitting has ended, the perp considerations are too numerous to mention. Not only do I get to stay at my employer's residence, but eat their food from their fridge (fridge models and colors are always a big deal for the perps), use different pots and pans (and all those metal energetics considerations), and consume products I would not ordinarily consider (e.g. those *Keurig* coffee machines with the apportioned coffee in little plastic containers), and of course, deal with the cat and the dog. The latter pulling a double shit and a flood of pee in the first week, and then causing me to arrange a barricade to not allow it downstairs. Anyhow, it wasn't all bad by any means, as I got to clean up some messes of tools and supplies around the place, even if the helicopters came by with greater frequency. As I am a neat freak, cleaning up any mess, unless perp instignated, is one of my few pleasures. (They like it if I get to step over and around the mess for some time before it gets cleaned up by YT).

Saw Stephen Fearing last night; an excellent show. The usual parade of Fuckwits around me, and a skinhead male (Very Unfavored) was installed 30' away, exactly in my line of sight, and lo, if he didn't pop-up at least 40x over the evening and came to talk to his "friends" at a nearby table. And lo, if another partial skinhead male also didn't do much the same, he with a ridiculous fringe of grey hair around his bald pate. Both disgusting head/hair do-s, and don't the perps know how much I loathe the sight of a skinheaded male. They even put a blonde woman (much Favored) to talk to him, making like they wanted to co-opt her auric goodness.

Other genuine freaks were in short supply, save the owner with his bald head and grey hair to his shoulders. He is about one of the few merchants in town that is allowed to "know" me, that is, recall me from previous visits and know my name. Mostly, it is a put-on that stunt players persist in, pretending to not recall me, even if they were rehearsed the exchange beforehand, and from what I can surmise, get near in-person immediate feedback after I have departed.

Earlier this week, yoga, and they brought back the darling pixie instructor for the first time since May 2013. Not that she wanted to make friends or anything, and in fact, made a point of ignoring me in the lobby before the class. She seemed to be on a pre-class gangstalking, something that is very common among yoga instructors. She seemed to be her normal exuberant self once class begun.

And a two second stare/scare from the Tall Girl; she walking into the toga practice room and looking at me while walking into my view. And she put on a fugly hair-do, crimped locks cascading down past her shoulders. In keeping with her usual routine, she later tied it up in a bun for the class. Here is a woman taller than me (5'11"), and has decidedly made sure that our glances never engage, even if she has had her mat next to mine for a quarter of the sessions for the past year, and here she walks in staring at me in her fugliest hair-do ever for all of two seconds or so. The perps seem to want to isolate my reaction to fugly hair from the person. (And it is not like she wanted to hit on me as she is married I learned from overhearing her speak with the friendly person looking after the desk).

I bought two of Stephen Fearing's CD's while at the show last night. And will the perps allow me to play the CD today? No-sirrr, it cuts out and stops after five seconds. I copy it to this here PC and lo, if it doesn't play pertectly from the hard drive. The perps often do this; insist I use one source/method to the exclusion of another, e.g. discs or as stored files.

My Synology backup PC install isn't getting any easier; it was building a volume (set of hard drives) and crapped out. Meanwhile, the system monitor tells me all is OK and my LAN connection is up. One of the reasons was that the network connection failed, which would be total crock as it is just a CAT cable and the monitor said all was fine.

And I see my efforts to do a chat line about my ISP bill got stymied; I allowed the pop-up chat window to display, and poof it went and no reply. Lets see; the perps create a pending fuck-up (no ISP bill), and then remind me it could be a problem, and then when I attempt to open a chat window, why, they fucked that too. See a pattern in all of this?

More fuckery, and having me scream at the assholes over this Synology NAS install. Yes, I have had cables fail all too often for normal. Another compounding jerkaround is that the on/off switch appears to be dysfunctional. The last time I pulled the plug on it and re-connecting it made it work.

More screaming at the assholes as they fucked the mouse action, not allowing links to work. They are on tear tonight, post evening tea time.

I have one day to get my *synology* NAS/back up computer working, which inconveniently arrived after two weeks of delays, just when I was house sitting elsewhere. It would seem that someone wanted it to sit around in my residence, but without me there. Those hard drives I inserted with the spinning magnetic disc must be important for someone. Never mind that the hard drives have been sitting around for four months on my desk, and finally are put to use. And lo, if the all important *DiscstationManager* software, which runs the whole thing, didn't just go poof in the night. I got it to display yesterday after pulling the power cord out of it, and then re-connecting it. A total "fluke", as it didn't display when I did a internet install, which failed, forcing me to use the enclosed CD. Top design marks for including a CD, but the rest of it has been and adverse mystery tour so far. Even the blinking blue on/off switch doesn't work or switch off like a PC switch with the delayed action. And for "support" I get an email exchange for crissakes. And this was to be the better designed NAS according to all the web chat. So much for that.

Tomorrow I fly out to Canada's Gangstalking Capital,- Victoria, BC and hang with the First Feral Family and all other quisling scum for four weeks. Woo-hoo. Odds are that the above mentioned NAS installation/connection/setup won't happen until I get back, again, extending the installation adversity all the more. This is very typical of new devices and objects, this long running introduction duration (e.g. hard drives sitting around for four months that were inserted into the NAS box today), hardware failure (no instructions to screw in the hard drives to the insertion bracket, which caused one to "fail"), and now this mysterious event of the all important management software gone missing.

The Windows Copy/Paste actions are getting totally fucked with today, just to make this whole scene all the worse. It is like your fingers not working as intended, nothing new there for me in this juvenile psychopath governed existence.

Yoga tonight, again with the darling pixie instructor. She was in a better frame of mind tonight, more her usual chirpy self rather than last week's pissy countenance. But these dumbshit baggy capri pants she wore were atrocious. The crotch near the knee and tightened only at her calf. Someone in the class mentioned that they were super comfortable and a one minute discussion ensued on where to get them etc. I prefer her shorts or her tights like last week, thank you very much, even if they were pink.

While jawing with the only other friendly business owner in town, the woman who runs the yoga business, the Tall Girl swept in and took my usual spot (mat location). This meant she was close by again, and lo, if she wasn't doing the same warm up exercises that I usually do. It used to be that all the others just sat around or laid on their mats prior to yoga, but now more class members are permitted to warm up. As it "happened", the Tall Girl and four others aligned their mats perfectly, equidistance from the wall. One other was behind this "alignment group", and I was offset some 2' back from the aligned direction (roughly E-W).

And why is it after yoga I have some dude standing over my coat in the coat rack? One tonight, one last week, and some 40% of the time, a shiftless male hanging around, though usually with some apparent purpose. I grab my coat and the rest of the items on the hanger and go to a side room and change there, rather than having all these Fuckwits coursing around me while changing. As always, the perps cannot get enough noise, lights, action and whatever else while changing my clothes. And the yoga business owner was also chatting to me while I was taking off some of the warm items I needed to wear when outside, as the temperatures are about freezing.

A visit to the ATM this morning brought on more silliness in Gangstalk World. Firstly, there was a groundskeeper outside running a gasoline leaf blower and raking up wet leaves. And lo, if he didn't put the idling leaf blower on the sidewalk for me to step over. And lo, if he didn't turn out to be a negro (rare here) under all those puffy garments, hat too. As it was about 0800h, the bank opening was imminent, and a cluster of three Fuckwits was in the foyer. I got to pass through this clusterfuck and into the ATM area, and do my banking with a machine. Another Fuckwit came to loiter directly behind me, sitting on the window sill. Ever notice how gangstalking scum like to hang around doorways and windows, taking in that light from outside, even if muted by heavy cloud cover (today). A person from the bank came to foyer to explain to the clusterfuck members (faux customers that is), that they were having a problem and would be opening in 10 minutes time. This while I was engaged with my financial transactions, the last being cash (green $20's) tucked into my wallet. And not only do the perps go silly over financial transactions, but also the color of money, and how much of it in my wallet. Spending money brings on a color change it would seem, not to mention some kind of psychic transaction exchange as well plus chakra color energetics if you believe in that. (I never did until the harassment abuse began to display patterns, and all that Chinese medicine, (e.g. energy meridians) and yogic chakras made perfect sense in light of what the perps were doing/stunting).

And the *synology* support people got in touch via email, and lo, if a different problem didn't erupt; the network connection went down after it was established and deemed working. This then brings down the *DiskStation Manager*, the software that runs the whole thing. In other words, more insufferable adversity, arranged on the occasion of having a new PC device, this one called a NAS, a whole market that Windows crowd missed out on. Unbelievable.

More games with tires today, which preceded the above mentioned visitation to the ATM/bank. I had to retrieve the ATV tire from a member of the family that promised to fix it and didn't. This relates to the vineyard owners and their family feuding. So... another occasion to have an extra tire in my vehicle and lug it in and out of the tire shop. It seemed to be an occasion for the biddy-stalkers, the old ladies coming out to sit in the tire shop public area as a gangstalking method. More biddies followed at the above mentioned ATM visit, and again when I got skunked at the mall as the store wasn't open.

Anyhow, I paid for the tire repair, jawed with the technician about these Italian tires that are both all-season and a winter tire, although with less mileage warranty. It would save having another tire set sitting around and extra rims and the change over twice yearly. But as I have a new set (as of 04-2012, with one newer one) of all season Pirelli tires on my vehicle, why would I want a new winter tire set if I can avoid driving on mountain passes in the winter? All to have me tarry at the tire shop while the just-fixed tire was nearby, and with the "biddy stalkers" all positioned.

A rare mid-day tanning session after I got back from installing the tire at the vineyard, and no mean feat as the "jack assing" games proceeded as there wasn't enough jacking height to raise the vehicle to accommodate the repaired and inflated tire. More jacking with the jacking for a while, but fortunately there was enough pieces of wood around as a prop.

The LD store turned out to be an extreme gangstalk scene after my tanning session. There were five Fuckwits and a stocking/stalking cart arranged around the chocolate section, and so I passed on that. Then this bullshit ahead of me with a customer finding only one brown towel when she wanted two, and the cashier checking the inventory for more, and then proceeding into the aisles to bring back another matching brown towel. Lets see; I just got extra browned at the tanning salon and then this brown towel holdup stunt at the cashier. Not to mention the notable increase in brown colored gangstalking vehicles.

I am going to wrap this posting up, as I will be busy tomorrow, packing and then traveling to Canada's Gangstalk Capital, and above mentioned First Feral Family and this whole faux Christmas nonsense I have come to loathe. One, because everyone in the family is faking it, and secondly, all the public displays and such are nothing but a big perp event of new color and object juxtapositions, the highlight being those brown velvet antlers on the front of vehicles.

[PS; I see that I have 0 (zero) "followers" (in Google-speak) when I had 33 a few days ago. This might be a temporary display glitch (ahem) to piss me off, or it might of been some wholesale deletion stunt by the perps. That is to say, I did not remove any "followers" (I loathe that term for obvious reasons) from this blog, either singly or in total.]

Monday, November 18, 2013

Sauternes Confluence

A sauterne is a sweet wine made in the Sauternes region of France from grapes that have suffered a botrytis bunch rot and are shriveled up on the vine. This concentrates the sugars and adds additional flavors. Picking is done as a triage process; picking the most eligible shriveled bunches and leaving the rest, often some 5 to 8 passes for harvesting. The yields are very low (less than 1.4 tons/acre) and not all years produce the grapes with the "noble rot", as a different rot may set in.

Anyhow, I had been reading about them for the past month as it is vineyard work relevant, having purchased a used book two months ago online. But I had never tasted one until today, the the vineyard owner gave me a partial bottle that had just been returned from the lab. So what is so important about this particular theme for the perps to have someone phone me this evening, while reading said book and said sauterne wine inside me? As long time readers will know, phone calls are an EMF signal to the side of one's head, and are perp favored at key moments. Not only for the EMF signal in my proximity and at my ear (asymmetric dosage), but also having me get off my seat and cross the room, one of their favorite disruption stunts. And if you concur that every moment of my existence is highly controlled and scripted, then it is most curious that they had to pull this phone call over a particular type of wine that I was simultaneously drinking and reading about.

Listened to Dr. John Hall, on Truthstream Media for an hour; interesting that he has a book out, and a second one early in 2014.

One of the mentioned targeted individual complaints is tinnitus, which came on strong after the perps first outed themselves in their shock and awe show they put on my apartment in Seattle, 04-2002. The Thousand Points of Light show also came on each time I went to bed, then and now,- magnetophosphene reactions to electronic harassment I now learn. I still get the TPL show each time I turn the lights out. Though, even in the daytime there are so many visual and light perturbances at every moment, daytime or night, that I have given up on the classification, apart from the main categories of masers (black fuzzy zingers or streaks) and plasma flashes (any shape or form, but colored).

Came across on account of above interview. I get depressed over the prevalence of organized harassment such that I wither when encountering activist organizations. Maybe my readership will find value in this link. And a link page on their site too. Why are the perps hammering me tonight over making links by screwing me out of getting the intended words selected (Windows copy, cut paste), and the blue selection hopping over the very word I want?

Targeted Individuals Canada is another site that has sprang up in my multi (more than three) year absence from TI activist sites.

Busy at the small winery today, and was about to take lunch at an irregular time, 1130h, and lo, if the boss wasn't waiting for me at the location (seat) I was to have lunch at. He didn't know my plans, nor when I was to be taking lunch, but there he was warming the seat for me. Which turned out to be the second time in the day that he had to sit where I sat, latterly performing some kind of fact finding quest of the futile kind.

A near vehicular highway collision, this dumbshit pulls a L turn from a R side arterial with the most minimal room for error, when he could of gone at least 5 seconds earlier to make it safer. Not only did he have incredibly bad judgement to end up 30' on front of my bumper while I was traveling at 80pkph (50mph), he had the strangest need (read, managed look) to not look where he was going, but to stare at me bearing down on him.

An online order for a NAS now two weeks old, and no shipment yet. They had one in stock but somehow it has not yet shipped and they won't answer my email as to what is going on. I suspect delivery will be timed to when I am away so it gets to sit around in its box for some weeks until I get back.

More online display games; I return to a stereo/cinema equipment review site, and lo, if the stars and the prices didn't disappear. I don't think I have seen an unadulterated page for over 10 years.

After a virtual shut-in day yesterday, I am in the role of house sitting at the place where I am working. Imagine all the correlations they can make with the owners' energies by having me stay overnight here for two weeks. The owners are away in Texas for two weeks, and so that would also fit the long running perps' scheme around air travel, airports and the whole thing they about distances and elevation from Earth.

And so these postings will dry up over the next six weeks as I am house sitting and then travelling to the First Feral Family house in Victoria, British Columbia, the Gangstalking Capital of Canada.

Sunday, November 10, 2013

Yogic Mondays

No yoga last week by dint of extra work to get done last Friday, so I changed to Monday (today) to keep myself limber. As always, yoga and all its spinal stretching and contortions is of intense perp interest, and the instructor has twice intimated the involvement of another party. At the end of a class some four weeks ago, he said, "thanks for coming, and especially for those who came on short notice." Sounds like organized arrangement to me. And also, only an operative would have permission to say that; the hoi polloi abettors would be most uncomfortable alluding to an organized crime.

This time the very limber and yoga experienced Tall Girl, at least 6'1", was beside me, of note because two weeks ago they hid her behind a central pillar in the room. And she has very long arms and legs I came to notice from across the room some time ago. Or, at least, the perps had me looking at her more than I would of, as I make a point of not staring at anyone. As always, this particular Tall Girl has incredible balance and yoga posture, and can outstretch me in most poses. And one tattoo case directly behind me on the girl with the 2' long hair who I never did get a look at for the hair hanging down. Not a big deal, as I don't get to yoga more than once per week as the perps don't seem to like the idea of me working out much more than that. They shut down hiking in 2006 when I had to give up my vehicle, and I have only returned to it this year, and only every three weeks or so in the summer time..

Extra unconventional abuses this Monday; they had me rage-ified by pulling food out of my mouth and sending it to the floor, flicked additional food around, including hot cooking oil, though not on me, pulled items from my grasp so they could be sent to the floor at my feet. At the very moment of screaming at the assholes, why, my teeth came down on the remaining food in my mouth and my tongue contacted an very salty food surface. Funny how that "happens".

A day of fucking hell, enabled by having the vineyard owners departing for supplies; I was racking wine and no end of things went wrong, and more than one recall failure that I never experienced before all this abuse descended upon me. At  least 20 rage-ifications over the day, all of them in the afternoon, once the owner's family visitation was over. I was doing the same thing before they came with little problem; racking (transferring and leaving the wine sediment behind) out of a bin to a close lidded container. They arrived with winery supplies and I helped them unload them. A they were parked in the middle of my working area I couldn't continue with my winemaking activity. They had lunch there, I had it with them as there was nothing else I could do. After they departed, everything went wrong, duly arranged by the assholes who have the ability to cause "mishaps" and all manner of teleportational and telekinetic directed abuses.

As part of the abuse stream, the pumps got clogged somehow, one pump after the other. I had already pumped two tanks with no problem, but this third time the pump didn't operate at full speed, and there was no seeming source of the problem (in conventional physical terms). I unclogged the intake screen a number of times to no avail, the perps also opened up my hand to have the nut driver fall into the wine. Later they had an O-ring pop off the pipe union and into the wine. A regularly used quick connect tool wouldn't connect for the first time in a year since I built it, and they scrambled me around on additions before letting me get it right.

There were people around today, so no sustained abuse, and the perps let me have a reasonably competent today.

The perps dozed me off at work after lunch time for 20 minutes or so, while the co-owner was sleeping upstairs on  her heavy medications as she has back pain. Another first for the assholes, as I never feel tired in these circumstances, even with a lot less sleep.

An after work visit to the specialty grocery store got me a rude gangstalker episode. I went there to get coffee and put it in the grinder, and lo, if these two Fuckwits, a most unlikely pair, didn't suddenly arrive and start hanging around me as they too were shopping for coffee. And not just idly, but comparing different brands and the like, and then encroaching on personal space where they reached for something near my feet. At that point I called them out and asked if they had any manners, and the one male dick said "sorry". Finally, after the coffee grinder had finished and I was no longer captive, I got the fuck out of there and to the checkout. One customer was ahead and she did her best to protract the scene for at least two minutes. In the meantime, this woman with long grey hair arrives and posts herself like a sentry 10' away at the end of the closest aisle and is unusually obvious as she isn't shopping. She then licks her lips for no reason. With all the gangstalkers in the store I thought that someone else would arrive to follow me in the checkout. But no, it was the weird coffee stalking pair, purchasing three bags of the same kind of coffee that was being replaced by this latest purchase. As before, coffee in all its brown-ess and whatever other properties it confers to the perps has been one of their most consistent props over the 11.5 years of this insane deranged Fuckover.

Yoga again on a Friday; what a zoo. Some 18 others or so, up from 7 or 8 of us at the last same weekday time. The long haired dude with the vile tattoos was there, artfully arranging himself halfway along the sightline I had on the instructor. Said instructor, male with additional Unfavored attributes of large gut, bald head and fugly shorts is assigned to all the advanced yoga classes, presumably to keep me from getting distracted by cute young female instructors. Another skinheaded (much Unfavored) male looked like an emancipated lab rat, and thankfully he stayed out of my view for the entire class. It wasn't all bad, as they put a lithe dancer girl in front of me for directing my gaze in the direction of above mentioned tattoo case.

The vineyard owner came back from being away for a 10 days, and was full of his usual pissy-ness. There was a reason though, as the red wine that he insisted on filtering, had an oxidation problem. Said owner insisted on filtering this wine, in two separate instances, over my objections to each. On the fourth filtering pass, in which I told him yet again that there was no need to filter, he finally listened to me. The wine got beat up by the filtering and he seemed to think that I was the culprit when I made additions to prevent oxidation. Anyhow, I got to get a different gig, as the dynamic is getting poisonous; the "told you so" list is getting far too long. Which is something the perps have always liked to inject into my existence; have belligerent incompetants screw thing up so they would be deemed saboteurs.

Saturday, and laundry at the laundromat, this being a first with a low freak/Unfavored count; only one other. He was an apparent cowboy (hat), arriving in this ridiculous red colored Ford station wagon and brought his laundry in ahead of me to then sit it on a table while he improbably looked around at notices on the walls, not getting on with laundry. (Who does that unless guided by others?) Naturally (ahem) he had his two red shirts spilling out of his bag onto the table when I passed by. I load my washing machines, switching one that I had loaded due to some odd colored liquid in the detergent. (To take away the excuse of bleach spotting sabotage). Said cowboy was on his cell phone at that moment, (while I was engaging in the financial transaction of putting money in the coin box), and he got my attention for a second as I thought he was talking to me. I get my two loads started, and why, he has gone, when my last look at him was that he was loading his washing machine. As I pass by, his load is loaded, save those red shirts on the table. All to make this scenario more contrived, as who on earth departs in the middle of loading one's laundry? He had the money to get detergent from the dispensing machine, so what was so important that he had to leave then? It wasn't the phone call, as he initiated the call, and was loading his washing machine after the call. As always, the perps are totally bent out of shape over me doing laundry, even stealing clothes back in the terror-struck days of 2002. And too, the relentless amount of fuckery that "happens" to laundry; loose thread eruptions, accelerated fabric wear, hairs from somewhere on the clean clothes, bleach spots when I didn't use any and even spots of oil on the clothes (read on) that were not there when I put the clothes in the washing machine.

The assholes spotted my new cotton shirt, one that got altered when new, with oil on the front and back. The usual routine; apply Shout, soak, and then re-wash manually in the kitchen sink and then spread out to dry on a towel. (No laundry facilities in this residence). All to have said shirt "join" the synthetic fabric clothes drying on the drying rack nearby, as I only dry cottons (towels and bedclothes mainly) in the dryer at the laundromat. So it would seem that the perps need to compare the energetics of a twice laundered item (laundromat and residence) to the once laundered items (laundromat only) that were already drying on a rack inside after the washing cycle completed. And too, they love the color changes, a huge game for them,- the darker color of a wet item that slowly dries and now becomes dark green, its natural color when dry. Not forgetting that this dark green shirt was purchased after someone, somehow, spotted the olive green shirt (identical garment type,- long sleeve stretch cotton fabric) with bleach at the aforementioned laundromat, about 6 weeks ago. And lo, if there wasn't any olive green shirts to replace the one that was sabotaged with their bleaching games they like to do. And too, this shirt had a collar that went up my neck and I had it altered before I wore it, and that took two weeks before the alterations person finished it. And not forgetting that I bought this shirt under First Feral Family conditions; my brother's store with my sister-in-law and mother present. Talk about a storied and targeted shirt for nefarious purposes that only the perps would know about.

A two hour nap attack this afternoon, and the sleep was not needed as I slept for two extra hours last night. Obviously the timing was important, as it was the dusk transition; lying down when daylight 1615h, and getting up while dark, 1815h.

All week there was a show I wanted to catch tonight, and lo, if I didn't get skunked in that it was sold out when I finally got to make the call about noon today. Like WTF; a new musical act, very low on the radar ($14 ticket), and I had listened to them online, then every day this week I meant to call to reserve a ticket, and when the perps finally let me call, (it is quite plain my recall is routinely fucked with), they arrange for the show to be sold out. I cannot count the number of times the perps arranged "dashed expectations", often many inside a week. Besides, I have been to this venue before, and presumably they have the place and staff ordered and organized to participate in the gangstalking and the rest of this contrived reality.

The perps woke me in the night for two hours of awake time, having the recent past replayed again and again. Why, when they do this all day?

Windows Cut and paste are getting messed with, another favorite perp stunt now gaining prominence from past remissions. They seem to like to have the blue colored reversed font flash and display part of what I have selected, and then go on to screw my motor coordination to have the line and/or paragraph highlighted, and then go back to screwing with the display for multiple words. Having added some recent links to the TI Blogs static page, the exact same thing occurred two days in succession.

And a shut-in Sunday today; constant dark grey clouds and a whole lot of demotivation keeping me house bound. Additionally, the perps have added some kind of diaphragm region muscle aches (pain pangs), and anytime I shift position I get this muscle spasm around my diaphragm, causing pain and breathing difficulties. No weekends off as a TI. It has been getting worse all day, and it might come down to crawling about to relieve this specific symptom.

Three new-to-me TI blogs I have found, being mysteriously motivated when I haven't looked for any for at least three years.

Targeted Individual Connections to the bigger picture, plus the Collection of Targeted Individual Sources.
Ramblings of a Targeted Individual  Homelessness and much duress at the basic survival level.
Fortnight Transmissions About surveillance and gangstalking; calm and measured- a welcome tonic to the harassed TI.
Escape Australia (177pp PDF) has many similar descriptions of gangstalking as my own, though interestingly the perps didn't force the couple apart.

The mid-rib muscle pangs of pain continue to erupt as I attempt to do normal things; looking at my watch got me such pain, as did moving around in the kitchen, when sitting down. I hope this type of debilitation is over tomorrow.

Other games going on with increased frequency are the perps playing with font sizes and line spacing of web pages. I return to a web page and find the font shrunk down. Of late, the Firefox bookmark manager has taken to spacing the links by an extra half line space.

And I see my keyboard is acting up, and that I got a mid-rib muscle pain as I started this very sentence; time to call it done for a week and see what next comes my way.