Friday, September 20, 2013

Getting Worse

A week of few evening hours, so the daily entries are rather sparse. Not to mention I often get cognitively clobbered when I want to write up this blog, and all the supporting detail is purged from my recall at the moment I want to convey it to my readership.

Monday, and always a high perp Fuckover day, this one being memorable in that I am so trashed from yelling or screaming at the assholes all evening, which began brewing first thing I  got back from a vexatious day of filtering wine. The forced "forgets", the pulling items from my grasp, the screwing me out of knowing the next step or why I went to the fridge or a cupboard etc.

I had half my ususal sleep, but as always, I am never tired from this kind of physiological incursion. I was also fucked ragged with abuse in the morning.

On the winemaking as work front, the boss pulled a flip flop and directed me to do more filtration than was really needed. The owners needed to get out of town while the perps were harassing the living shit out of me, though I was careful not be loud as the Great White Bearded E. Indian was working in the vineyard on leaf pulling

Wine filtering can go wrong from at least  50 technical decisions; how hoses hook up, to which port, and whether they are male or female, what direction the wine is to travel etc. Not to mention the possibilities for mess, leaks, filter plugging and leaking etc. are myriad.

A phone call from the owners to direct the Great Bearded E. Indian elder, replete with scuzzy turban, to another part of the vineyard seemed reasonable at first. Then a vineyard helper arrived and needed to talk through the owner's plans, and the whole skit seemed to be about time wasting before escorting the E. Indian to a new work area.

Evening; I got skunked at the specialty foods seller; I went there for cooked chicken and more small tortillas and they had neither. Onto the supermarket, where they seemed prepared by augmenting the staff with skinheads and jamming up the checkouts. Then making dinner, and rage-fied at least 40 times, and we are talking screaming loud, now that they have me in a detached residence.

More wine filtration/vexation; many hasslesbut not  as bad as yesterday. Late hours again, and after work errands, including a new Rx had to be postponed. We are talking about yellow and white colored pills, and almost invariably the yellow vehicular gangstalking is increased then, which was true to form for the rest of the week, as it turned out.

The once sensation of feeling wasted after filtering or handling red wine has come upon me, and this hasn't happened for a very long time, 20 years. As it "happened" it did not re-occur later this week, even if doing the same activity.

I learned that plants have knowledge, a neurological system. Which might partly explain why the perps have me doing farm work, and hound me with vegetation bearing landscape maintenance vehicles; often cuttings, but sometimes live rooted plants. And here we are, in suburban land, cutting lawns once a week for the growing season, feeding the Great Perp Surveillance Machine; what are they after?

Wine filtration with lots of hassles, including when back and making dinner.

No wine filtration work thankfully, just cleaning up and back-flushing filters to try and get some more mileage out of them. A moderate level of harassment until after lunch with the wind starting up at that time and lasting the whole afternoon. I got onto after work errands for the first time in four days. one was the Rx refill, -keeping me off the white and yellow colored pills which seem to be so important to the assholes. The doctor put on her death-warmed-over greeting and later got smiley. No blood pressure test this time for whatever reason. She elicited more detail on when these medications were prescribed, and I mentioned ADD and the confirming SPECT scan of the Inattentive Subtype. Somehow, I "forgot" to mention that two shrinks and a neurologist blew me off on this diagnosis, and it was a doctor with ADD who got it right. I had been thinking about this all week, what was the history and how many doctors jerked my ass around, presumably at the perps behest, and "somehow" I forget to mention this key piece of determination in the face of (arranged IMHO) clinical adversity.

Same perp abuse fuckery all day long; forced dropping of items from my grasp, forced "forgets" on where I put something down, having me get imcomplete parts, scripting two or three jobs at a time with constant interuptions to attend to the next one.

Yet again, the vineyard owners needed to split town while I toiled in near constant vexation with filtering another batch of wine with inadequate equipment. The pump wouldn't pull 1.5m of suction head for crissakes, which meant that I had to transfer the wine to a shorter container. Which worked for awhile, then the pump stalled out again. The last 10L of wine was then transfered to a bucket which I held up high to create a gravity feed and eventually all 850L was filtered to one micron. That took three back-flushings of the cartridge filter, some six hours in all. Which meant that the pump had to be stopped, and a water hose attached to the discharge side of the filter to drive water backwards from the normal wine filter flow. A back-flushing took at least half an hour, so needless to say, I worked another late day.

And too, another missed yoga day this week. The perps just love to disrupt yoga attendance, and the more weeks they can put in sequence, the merrier they seem to be. Which begs the question, why do they want me to take yoga in the first place? Well, it would seem all those spine twistings and exertions and poses seem to fit the perp agenda to some extent, perhaps as etheric interactions with the body electric. No question yoga has been a total gangstalk show, from the Favored (cute instructors) to the Unfavored (large gutted male instructor with bald head and fugly oversized shorts), along with the tattoo-ed classmates doing their "see my tattoo" thing.

Last year, they even put on a woman instructor with a decided male bent and a rather commanding dictatorial nature for a few sessions. She didn't last more than three classes before they swapped her out with a woman who was more feminine (thankfully), though considerably overweight. Understand that I didn't have any personal issues with the first mentioned instructor; I did my poses as best as I could and always followed her instructions. And she was always friendly to me after class, as was I in return. BUT there was something about that interpersonal dynamic that the perps could read in me (by remote means, with of course, proximate biofield energies from the classmates/gangastalkers), that I did not knowingly like. Meaning, there was some kind of adverse psychic reaction I had to that instructor, be it appearance or her commanding syntax and tone of which I was consciously unaware, but found subconsciously perturbing. And the perps knew it, and had her start as my instructor when I re-started yoga last year, but she was rotated out after her assigned classes. Which begs the question, how did I come to find such a interpersonal nature subconsciously perturbing, and how did the perps know what my subconscious realtime reactions (abreactions) were? I am sure there is some answers to be found in the three years they wiped from my recall, aged 2 to 5, and it may have something to do with being sent to one or more military camps, as in the Indian Lake Project.

Today was the fourth day of the week that one or both of the vineyard owners "needed" to split while I was toiling doing wine filtering. And not forgetting that they scrambled me into "forgetting" what I was doing, whether I needed a female or male hose end ad infinitum,  and of course having me react to being mind-fucked into stupid, forgetful or senseless small acts, one after the other.

The Great Bearded E. Indian elder. ostensibly on vineyard leaf plucking on the S. side,  also did his hanging around too, pretending to be curious and exploiting the language barrier to the max. I was dispatched to relocate him from one section of the vineyard to another first thing this morning. Why the owners didn't do this as the E. Indian starts at 0600h when I start at 0700h is also mighty curious. But as this was the second time this week on this particular errand, and that the last time was fraught with all manner of delays and diversions by another party, all I can say is that it seems to be a big deal for the perps. Go figure; and the turban was way fugly, and as with nearly all head ornaments, much Unfavored.

A party of some six or so also wandered up the driveway, timing their arrival some ten minutes after the owners arrived. They knew the owner's name, so it wasn't a visiting troupe looking for work on spec, but close to it. Later, I learned the the male owner had two wisdom teeth removed AND a root canal in one dental visit today. Like WTF; who would be that rash to have all that done in one visit? But as it "happens", there have been other acquaintances in the long past who had wisdom teeth pulled for seeming trite reasons, so I am a somewhat circumspect as to why people are doing this so often. One had all four wisdom teeth pulled as a preventive measure should they need a root canal procedure in the future. Then he also refused root canals and had the tooth pulled instead. Plain stupid.

One time I went for a root canal at an endodontist (recommended to get the specialist to do it), and lo, if I wasn't held up by an emergency patient who needed a tooth pulled. It didn't take too long, but now that I see the trend of tooth pain being applied as some kind of pain biofield generator, it does make me wonder what the perps are up to.

That, and the recent "need" to pluck facial hairs, a habit that has been imposed on me since 01-2013. For the last few years it was these strange and sudden arrivals of hairs on my ears that I was plucking. Then the need to pluck chest hairs and now facial hairs has erupted. I thought it would be three or so a day per cheek, as that was about all the cheek hairs I was shaving off each day. But now that I started to pluck them out, why, the facial hair count has gone to some 6 per side per session, two sessions per day, meaning, 24/day. Like WTF; how did all these hairs suddenly start growing when I began to pluck them instead of shaving them? One location, a small divot, grew three stiff hairs in a week, all from the same pore. Not to mention the masers that come off the plucked hairs and follow the hair from face to tweezers to fingers to sink. And at least 20% of the plucked hairs somehow manage to get teleported back onto my face after I dispense with them in the sink AND I check my fingers and tweezers to make sure they didn't re-attach themselves somehow. Said teleported plucked hairs seem to arrive back where they came from, or else the next location where I am about to pluck the next hair. And there are other teleportational variants; they arrive back on the tweezers, my fingers and somehow make the leap from there to my face, effectively reversing their path. Once I saw the prior plucked hair arrive on my face and between the arms of the tweezers as I was about to pluck the next one. Normally the perps have teleportational objects arrive when my attention is diverted for an instant, but this once was an unmistakable arrival of a plucked hair between the tweezers, before the next tweezing.

Tonight's phone call from the First Feral Family came just when I was finishing off a tweezing session, and prolonging the duration that the tea was steeping. And have I mentioned past interruptions when the tea is steeping, or other color transitions, say from daylight to dusk to night? So many times that I have given up mentioning it any more.

I am off to visit the First Feral Family in Kamloops this weekend, so I will post this sooner rather than later.

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