Yogic Mondays

11-04-2013
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".

11-05-2013
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.

11-06-2013
There were people around today, so no sustained abuse, and the perps let me have a reasonably competent today.

11-07-2013
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.

11-08-2013
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.

11-09-2013
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.

11-10-2013
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.