Sunday, June 29, 2014

Post Yoga Inclement Weather

Sunny all day, and some more leg tanning, which seems to "happen" on yoga days of late. About 10 students in the class, and the other male, who I had not seen there, goes to the exact same location as do the other two males who seem to rotate, never two at once. Like WTF; how did he seem to know it was the spot (15', behind the central pillar) the other males regularly use? Go figure.

Tuesday, one day after yoga, and the perps pulled a good one; all (work) day rain for someone working in a vineyard. But that wasn't enough by any means. The had me "forget" my gumboots, so my feet were soaked all day. And I got totally mindfucked into not putting on my rain pants (which I had), so I got soaked all the more. The owners offer their black rain gear and I accept, wearing it for the afternoon. At the end of the work day (1500h) the rain stops, and I wear my shorts which are not soaking wet. I do two hours of extra work at this other vineyard and the weather is just fine for what I was wearing.

Again, tucking at the vineyard, and the gas (CO2) delivery truck comes and backs in. I ask him if he is going to pick up the three gas cylinders there, but no, he says, he is here to drop a new one off. OK, I say, as I am not the only one who uses the CO2. He drops off the cylinder and does a whole lot more clunking around, and eventually drives up and finds me to sign for reciept. He makes a comment about how nice it is to listen to music out in the sunshine. I say it isn't quite like that, as the boss is on my ass to get more rows done each day. He says, no kidding, I got a computer in my truck that logs where I am and my speed etc. Then he continues on this rant, complaining it takes 15 min. to get a coffee at a certain drive-in coffee shop chain. And while in mid rant, some of his spittle flys out of his mouth and lands on my cheek. Then he tells me that the three CO2 bottles that were there were empty, and I say that is fine, as I wasn't sure because I don't handle the gas cylinders often enough to know if they were empty. (I use the pressure gauge when it is installed, which it wasn't). Anyhow, since all this intense abuse began in 04-2002, I now know how spittle manages to self eject from one's mouth and land in embarassing circumstances. Usually it is my spittle, but this time I was the landing site. It is all about getting a mouth energy reading while speaking I have come to conclude.

About 10 minutes later my boss comes back from another part of the vineyard, not anywhere near the driveway where the above mentioned gas delivery guy was. She said she heard about it and that he picked up the empties as well. Like WTF; how did she know when she was not either a witness to the delivery/drop off, but in a remote corner of the vineyard? I have given up on these momentary mysteries, and conclude that she heard from the Perp Harassment Net that all those I interact seem to be on. Ever notice how often they look up, and past the TI?

Tucking vines again, then to the extra job, then more tucking. Then the rain comes on when I was ready to start a fourth row. I leave early, and lo, a massive vehicular gangstalk (30 vehicles at 1800h in a small town) on the way home, taking a detour route as the high school graduation event had blocked my usual route.

When I get back I see the landlord has got someone to finish their plaster job of the plywood covered opening in the wall that should of been done last year when he removed the air conditioner and put in a heat pump unit. Then while cooking dinner I discover that there is plaster crumbs and dust on my dining table, which means the landlord must of been in here without my permission. So... after a screaming fit, as this is the second time I have had a "plaster attack" in a year at this place, I cleaned it up with the vacuum cleaner; the table, the carpet underneath - and who is it I know who loves to make mess, dust, and have vaccuum cleaners in my midst?

More inclement weather, raining most of the day with some unnoticed stoppage because the vine foliage was so wet. And just when I wanted to get to my next job, why, it began to rain again. I drove to the job site, still raining, and got a text message eventually to cancel work. By then I had re-dressed into my rain gear and gumboots. If I didn't have a bank stop on the way home, I would of driven in my rain gear. So.. I took it off but kept my gumboots for driving, and stopped at the bank. As regular readers will know, any kind of financial transaction event is a gangstalk/harassment event, and all the more in unusual foot wear. True enough, they screwed me out of the bank parking, and so I went around the corner to the street, and lo, if a white sedan wasn't leaving a stall next to the bank, and so I waited for them to vacate it, and I moved in within 10 seconds or less. The bum and fat boy was there as one loathsome entity in the lobby doing back and forths behind me, pretending to be confused. A faux bum on his cell phone was leaning against a building wall, and was still there when I returned to my vehicle. A few others coursed by for this simple check deposit, and I was out of there soon enough.

Job productivity is another favorite perp theme they constantly arrange. I tuck vines into rows, and it seems that it goes so slow sometimes, and when I think I should have three rows done before break (3x 1 hour each), why, I only got two done. I seem to be going quickly, and I have no idea why such work takes so much time. Late in the day, I had 45 minutes left, and a new row; I swore I would never get it done (based on the previous production rate in the day), but started anyhow, and lo, if I didn't get it all tucked. So why is it that comparable rows take 1.5 hours each, and then later, only 45 min.? I don't know, but the perps pull these production rate protractions (mostly) and a few production rate increases games all the time. Back in my team swimming days of 1989 to 1999, I could never figure out why everyone else got dressed so much faster than I when I applied myself to the same endeavor with no interruptions or dallying. They weren't visible to me, in the next aisle with the through traffic, but it was one of those imponderables I could never figure out. Not until this abuse started up, and I rewrote my life's events in a covert harassment and arrangement context could I get to understand. What is it that so attracts the perps to production rate numbers as well altering the events and ongoing time perception that goes with such activity. Don't know.

Saturday, and the usual start is to visit the laundromat, and do my regular duty of two loads, one of cottons, the other with synthetic fabric garments. The former gets put in the dryer, the latter comes back and is air dried on two racks I have. At this time of year it is put outside, but of course that is governed by the weather. Until today, it was one or the other. But today, the perps decided that they wanted some of each, so at first it looked promising to be dried outside, but later, dark threatening clouds rolled in and I took the racks of clothes inside to finish drying.

A full leg wax today, from a woman with almost red hair, a sort of reddish brown. I suppose if the perps want to test me for abreactions over red hair, and have been at it for 12 years of sustained abuse, they just might try differing shades of almost red hair. Anyhow, she was good to chat with, and topics from aliens, free energy, conspiracy theory, the state of high school teaching, and the like kept me talking while she ripped hairs from my hide. Though later, once I got home, I found she "forgot" a 3" wide strip of hairs running mid thigh to mid calf. How does one miss that much hair? I don't know, but the supervision at this spa training school is decidedly slack since the last supervisor, as she was totally on top of what the students were doing. The regions left unwaxed by the last student were cleaned up, and later I waxed this "forgotten" hair at my place.

As usual, total pandemonium once I got out of the spa salon, as in gangstalking. A young woman in a turquoise gown pacing on the sidewalk some 50' away looked decidedly out of place even if she was on her cell phone. At one point she turned her back to me and her white brassiere was plainly evident. Not that I know much about the contingencies of wearing gowns and how to best hide undergarments etc. but it looked a bit trashy. Then a parade of at least 10 vehicles passing by blocked my exit from the parking lot for a time, and some 60' away, a four way stop was slowing traffic in all directions, including one ditz who couldn't get through as the lane was occupied. Yet more E-W traffic at my next stop, and ever more vehicls backed up. All for a four minute drive back to my place, with lunch yet to be eaten (1250h). I must have some special energetic properties after waxing or hair plucking, and I suppose the multi-color vehicle show somehow feeds into that. The perps like to put on extra gangstalking anytime they can extend my meal times.

Then onto my second job, tucking vines at a vineyard. Some four hours of it, and nice to be left alone, though the road noise was extra loud and the HD motorcycles were out in force. This would be the first time that I would of done vineyard work following a leg waxing (hair pulling), and I suppose it was a big deal for the perps for whatever reason.

Sunday, and one spent mostly on this part time vineyard job, doing tucking. That is, arranging the shoots to be between three pairs of parallel trellis wires so they grow straight up in the space between the posts. Its tedious, and each row takes about 40 minutes. Again, heavy on the road noise and HD motorcycles with some added loathsome noise of 4 wheel drive buggies of the neighbors. Don't people get their mufflers fixed anymore?

Mostly overcast, though later it was bright enough to wear shorts, the ones that roll up at the hems and become more like swim trunks. The usual cavalcade of vehicles around me when I departed; the post plant tending moments seem to be a big deal for the perps. As usual, extra noise whenever I come to the end of a row, and then turn around to tuck the opposite side; just the usual vehicle noise of many kinds (per above) plus barking dogs, overheadaircraft etc.

And three stops on the way home to finish up the weekend's shopping list. At LD I got jerked with another fake sale, where three items for one low price didn't apply, after I was sent to the aisles to retrieve the sale notice tags. It turned out it applied to a different size, even if the size I had was plastered with these sales tags. I swore I would never go for these jerkaround sales again, and lo, I got screwed for it. All to send me elsewhere while my items were bagged and another gangstalker got through the checkout in my temporary absence. Then the Fat Girl cashier voided the sale and then retrieved all the items from the bag and ran them through again. And how many times must a man suffer hi-jinx whenever he engages in a financial transaction? Some day I will ask the bard himself, and I am sure he knows the answer, and no, it is not blowing in the wind.

Outside of LD this 60 y.o. male was standing in the parking lot, looking around like he was lost. Then he leads ahead of me and goes right past my vehicle and eventually goes to his black Ford Escort 60' away. Fine, I get these stand-around male stalkers often, seeming to be utterly stunned and not have any legitimate reason to be standing there. I drive around to the other end of the mall, go to a tea shop that had gamed me with its early closures, and lo, if there wasn't a punkish wierdo there with his girlfriend. I give them a wide berth, and eventually the sales assistant leaves them and attends to me, sucking me in to cross over where this pair was standing. Anyhow, I get the tea, and then just before the sales assistant draws me over to the other till, why, this pair splits apart and I am obliged to pass between them. I pay cash, get my change, and lo, if the male isn't displaying an arm  full  of horribly vivid tattoos on his entire right arm. Like WTF; wierd hair, then the split couple gangstalk, and then the tattoos; why cannot I be left the fuck alone? And to finish it off, the sales assistant gives me this overly gracious faux smile. I say thanks, and I am out of there.

But that wasn't it, I to to the mall exit and lo, if my parking lot male stalker (per above 60 y.o.) isn't standing there in front of the "Out" door jabbering with a fat woman one on each side of the pressure sensitive mat that opens or closes the door. I take an alternate door and pass by this asshole who shuffles his feet to make it look like he was going to back into me, but didn't. Like WTF; he tails me between one end of the mall (driving through the parking lots), and then does his "Cheersing" stalk/jabber while blocking egress to the automatic "Out" door. Why is it that the people of Penticton are so strange that they block mall entrances/exits while pretending to be oblivious that it is the dumbest place to have a conversation? The usual answer I have is that they are strange, or are being jerked with my someone who is strange. Take your pick.

Sunday, June 22, 2014

Re Wine Sample in Vehicle Equates to Red Vehicle Gangstalking

My temporary vineyard helper ditched the red shorts today, and put on black slacks. Not that they were any help in the all day rain, but at least they didn't look ridiculous as his red sloppy shorts that went down almost to his gumboots.

I showed him the garage cum winery, and even drew a red wine sample from the tank and had him taste it. He seemed to be appreciative of its flavors and offered some relevant, if not insightful observations. Not bad for a 19 year old male. Then to do vine thinning and tucking, he on one side, me on the other.

I took the red wine sample to the lab at the end of the day, and quickly became surrounded by gangstalking vehicles all around me and large oncoming pods/formations of vehicles going the same speed. At the corner of  Hwy 97 and Ekhart, where two lanes of traffic turn L when N bound, why, there were four red vehicles around me and another two nearby. All deep burgundy metallic red, with some variations, but no scarlet reds or other major hue differences. There were some white vehicles and silver-grey ones too, all to accompany me in making a L turn. I suppose the red wine sample was for perp color calibration purposes and I suppose having a 50ml that was left over at lunch time was another added bonus for the perps.

All this relentless and abusive insanity because the perps don't have the gumption to declare themselves and their purposes. Kind of like how aliens do business too.

Yoga tonight, always a subtle swarm. No other dude with his absurd wheezing and gasping. Though a new girl took my usual location ahead of me (I got delayed in arriving "forgot" my mat), and I was parked by myself near the E wall. Sometimes they do this, when all the class members cluster elsehwhere as if I am radioactive (or something like it). Other times, they rotate the Unfavored featured ones nearby, the tattoo acts, strange shaped butts, and the like. A new woman was artfully blocking my reflection in the W wall mirror, the only one I can readily see. She was  in short shorts, with plenty of leg to see. When I entered the room she was in place and doing some warm up routines, and got my immediate attention with her L breast draped outside of her L leg. Not too big, not too small, but in reality I don't really care about female breast size, though the perps make it a much bigger deal than I want them to be. Call her Short Shorts for now, though that may change, read on.

The vineyard owner chose expedience to get the shoots tucked in the wires for the second round. We were thinning them first, and then tucking but that was 3 or 4 rows per day, and being a numbers guy, he didn't appreciate the slower progress. Even if our thinning was affirmed by two outside viticulture personnel last year. (And the owner was away sick for three weeks). So now, it is just tuck the vines, no matter if cramming them in. Having airflow is for vines on a trellis is vital to prevent powdery mildew, which erupted two years ago. And it takes three years to get rid of it. As I said, expedience before prudence, ergo, another perp theme; lets have more things go wrong.

On the financial transaction protraction front, I transferred some $2k to my daughter to deal with a hit from the recent overpayment benefits disaster that has nailed me beyond my means to pay back. I thought I would send her the money to keep her out of this debacle, as its trajectory is still unknown. And so I got screwed around with incorrectly entering her email address, and the undeliverable return message failed to inform me. Not until she gave me an alternative work email did I find that out. A lost day, and so she waited for my email the next day, and it didn't come, and got sick in the afternoon and only then did she broach the notion via a text message that maybe my first-time email got trapped in her junk mail folder. Some more text messages back and forth, and now 06-20-2014, no word as to if she received the transfer or if she felt better enough to go to work. Like WTF; can we have enough delays and protraction with two days of text messaging then a sudden cessation of the latter to leave me FUD-ed out? (As in a Fear Uncertainty Doubt invocation).

An extra three hours of work at a vineyard across the lake, the same one as last week. And next door to the propane cannon that goes off every 4 minutes or so, never timed to be consistent intervals. Ostensibly it is for warding off birds from feasting on agricultural crops, cherries being nearly ripe. BUT, the cannon sounds have an unerring knack for being timed to my thoughts just like nearly all other regular noises, e.g HD motorcycles, hot rods, ill maintained vehicle mufflers, overhead aircraft, dog barkings, etc. And so it is with this fusillade of booms and pops; should I shift my attention to something else -boom, challenge the absurd level of planted thoughts over the latest new babe at yoga (three days ago, and I hardly saw her from across the room and really didn't pay attention to her much, save her short shorts).

And on the planted ideations front, above mentioned new yoga class member Short Shorts has been talked up yesterday (Wednesday) and today (Thursday) big time, and as I mentioned, I didn't have any reason whatsoever to consider her as any kind of romantic material. And if I was so taken with her visage, then why wasn't I dizzy about it the next day after the yoga class, Tuesday? It doesn't add up except to indicate remote influencing in real time. Besides, I don't consider myself to be any bit attracted to someone who is likely a shill or planted operative. I say this because it has been abundantly clear over the past 12 years that my existence (not a life), is regulated and abused with constantly and relentlessly, and no one gets near me unless they have clearance from the Psychopaths of the Fourth Reich, down to all possible minutiae of this orchestrated 24/7 nightmare, such as even a glance. I am kept in a deep labyrinth ridden rabbit hole, and don't have a clue how to get out. Why would anyone be attracted to that, assuming they have the free will to consider such in the first place?

A strange night indeed; I was awakened around 0200h with leg cramps, a first, save from my swimming days of 1986-99. I got up and had some coconut water and added sea salt and went back to sleep. In another half hour, more cramps. I drank  some more coconut water and the cramps ended. It was a strange precursor logic though; "somehow" (read planted notion while asleep) that I figured I could end the cramps by moving around, but I couldn't. After I turned the lights out, there was this incredible display of lights in my room; the Thousand Points of Lights thing again, and too, keeping the incandescent bulbs of the ceiling fixture glowing even when off for at least 30 seconds. Then some black 6"x 1/4" black flecks were arranged all around the room in a semi-random effect, blacker than anything else in the unlit room. I closed my eyes, and the TPL lights came back, so I put my arms over my head and that slowed them down for a half minute or so. Just the usual unusual light invasion games.

So it would seem that some asshole needed to test me with coconut water in me, and sea salt, in the middle of the night for some reason. Not when I usually imbibe beverages.

After the above disruption I was given this dream where I was in dialog with the Queen of England and the Canadian former prime minister, Brian Mulroney. Like WTF; I never dream about political figures and now this. Then they wakened me before the alarm, I shut it off, and then they sacked me for another 15 minutes of sleep. Go figure.

At work, vine tucking and plenty of helicopter action today for some reason, bringing out at least four different models to fly over. There is a helicopter flight school at Penticton airport, but only the EC-135 models belong to them.

At the vineyard there was the dueling dog barking for much of the morning; the son-in-law dropped off their yappy/yelping/squealing dashound mix, and the Rotweiler joined in with its big dog bark. Both dogs specialize in pointless barking, and excessively at that, as they rarely investigate the source of a noise, but bark in place instead. I have had four different dogs (of two breeds), and never did any of them stay in place if they detected a noise/unusual event. They all went toward the source to figure it out; if OK, then the barking stopped. Not these two, and so they barked in unison, then as a tag team, one on bass and the other in its screeching yelping. And too, a propane noise cannon is going off in the next property, and that had an unerring knack of going off with the barking dogs, as well as going off while following my thoughts or actions. One example, was a few drops of rain to hit my hat, the first of the day, and I thought "you assholes" (as it would of been caused by the perps), and boom, the propane cannon went off.

I got up too late to get in and out of the Go Fresh laundromat without a freak show and gangstalkers going out of their way to pass in front of my washing machine 30 seconds or so before I got there. What I didn't expect was the human odor pong that came on when I entered, and stayed there even when the scum-inal nominative cause departed. Said scum-inal made sure to perform excessive flicking of his just laundered pants a little while later. Not too different from the proximate plastic bag flicking I get at most checkouts. And the same as a proximate gangstalker, a male "ball cap", the ubiquitous head gear of the stalking-class, who just had to flick his black plastic garbage bags opposite me at the table when I was folding my just-dry towels. Other freaks were a party of three, one female with a do-rag and sunglasses in a black overcoat to her knees, with girl in blue and green colored hair, (though with a tasteful color transition), and a blonde with gorgeous hair, but too bad about the pock marked face.

Another male act that just had to go out of his way to sweep immediately in front of my laundry in the active washing machine, foregoing the double wide aisle down the middle of the laundromat. Then there was the faux muscle dude who also came to do a "bend over" to look at his active washing machine next to mine, then proceed outside again, but looking back at me twice when I stole glances to check on his outbound status, all to find him leaning on a table and staring at me for absolutely no reason. Then he proceeded outside to sit in his vehicle. And have we not seen this absurdity before, when someone comes to stand and look at their laundry going around and splashing through the front glass window for no seeming reason? Why, it was a negro mofo some six months or more ago. The washroom stank big time when a forced piss came on to facilitate the faux muscle dude's gangstalking arrival in my absence. A skiff of soil was added to the walkway outside, and later arrivals an dithering Fuckwits at their open vehicle doors forced me to walk close by. Add in two dogs from above two parties sitting in vehicles outside, and one would know it was Another GS Day at the Laundromat.

I am three weeks late on getting my May month end finances entered in Quicken, and lo, if the session didn't time out, and when logged back in, why, the month of May does not show up in the pick list (e.g. last 10 days, last 30 days, June, May etc.). That is, the first one shows up on the list, and the latter ones show only as non-selectable blank lines in the pick list. Not forgetting that I wanted to get this done three weeks ago, and all these reciepts kept piling up to my greatest annoyance. And finally on this sunny hot Saturday, why, the banking application pick list suddenly fails. It wouldn't be the first time though, about a month ago, I had to phone in to request that the CRA (income tax folks) could not be added to my Payees list because there was no "Next" button to conclude the addition. When I mentioned this to the person on the phone, they didn't seem too motivated to get to the bottom of someone entering their banking system and messing with
 their online application.

Another logout and then login "solved" the above TD Bank account pick list problem. Then another two hours of entry and then reconciliation between the two (online TD and Quicken). Will we ever get to a day when one's accounts are hosted by the bank and so we will have a single financial picture? I doubt it. It is more fun for the perps to have me screamingly infuriated over balances that don't add up (while listening to my favorite CD playing in my headphones), line items that appear on the second visitation to the page but weren't there the first time, totals that change between pages and to have deposits that show up and then disappear -making it out to be an administrative oversight etc. The above mentioned (06-18-2014) amount that was transferred from one account to another and then to my daughter, then recovered, then paid out again the next day was severely mind-fucked so it took at least 20 minutes to figure that out alone, all the while infuriated over some kind of fuckery between Quicken (local) and the online bank app. Funny how that "happens".

In all of the above, I discover $100 cash gone missing from my new wallet, and it would not be the first time this year. If, as it seems, that the perps steal food, lotions, and other common household consumables (in situ) from my place, then it makes perfect sense to me that they would steal money from my new wallet,- just another experimental item that needs to change according to their color games agenda they so often play. Curiously, the wallet that was stolen two weeks ago, and then re-appeared in my vehicle four days later at a location I looked at, re-arrived with all the cash that was in it. By then, the new wallet that I had purchased some six years ago and never used, replaced the old one. The cash disappeared from the new wallet, as I suppose because they needed color/energetic data on it, versus the old wallet that had at least 20+ cash disappearances over the years I had it.

Another (second) part time vineyard work gig today; but wholly different from the prior part time and full time jobs. This lady is a trained viticulturalist from France, not older than 30 y.o. and has 20 years experience as she grew up on a vineyard where her father was a manager. Quite the revelation as to how to do the job properly to say the least.

On the perp's diet front; no brown tortillas to eat the quesadillas in, but instead, the contents (chopped chicken, tapenade, nori seaweed and some sauce) are made into a gumbo and I put it into a sealable pan I take to work for lunch. Then for breakfast they choked down the supply of yellow corn tortillas, so I had  gluten free white ones with my coconut spread for the past two weeks.

On the supplement front, I am on an iodine kick, a seeming subject of huge interest to the perps, not forgetting that most of the world got an extra radioactive dose when the Fukushima reactor in Japan belched some out under its supposed "damage control" (read, controlled lies upon lies) when the tsunami filled the installation with seawater in 2011. Well done, as a perp stunt, and to ponder all the world's thyroid problems in aggregate and the supposition that just maybe they are all about nonconsensual human iodine testing too. (Though, the thyroid is not the only organ needing this apparently little understood molecule in various forms and complexes).

Anyhow, I am too tired to take on another round of observational cynicism, and so I shall post this one for the week just done.

Sunday, June 15, 2014

Manic Monday Again

Nothing like a Monday to get the victim riled up; a letter (finally, two months late) asking for $15k of overpayment of my disabiltiy benefits. Seemingly it is not enough to sink me financially in the past, they must do it again. Last October, (11-2013) I was attempting to discontinue these disability payments, but "somehow" I forgot. Then in December (12-2013), no one mentioned anything about them, which to me, confirms a financial hit was in the making.

More BS over getting shafted on finding roomies; a male (I assume) was looking for a roomie for a 1600 sq. ft. condo, and the room had a private bathroom. (After the sudden onset of toilet blocking assaults in this same situation on 2012, it is very important to have one's own shitter). I sent all the major relevant information to the person, and they sent their phone number back within two hours. I phoned, and no answer, and I left a message. No returned message, and I phoned again, and still no response. The promising lead went totally dead. Or more like, the ruse had run its course. I cannot count the number of times I have been looking for roomies or jobs, and the right situation comes up, save one deal breaker. This time, no deal breaker, just no response.

My new monitor arrived today, packed in a brown cardboard box, with more brown cardboard inserts to keep it in the middle of the box. And it was also the excuse for getting all my Firefox tabs wiped out, later to return in another session.

Then yoga; the one other male was up to his wheezing, grunting and the rest of it for whatever purpose that serves.

At the daytime vineyard job this 19 y.o. kid arrived from Vancouver. He is said to be interested in winemaking, and so he was shipped to this Okanagan vineyard to get some experience. He seems a little afraid of me for no apparent reason; perhaps my "reputation" (as a TI kept in a densified magnetic field and perhaps a visible plasma field too) has preceded me.

And more games with human voice noise from adjacent properties, and the perps making sure they got through my headphones while listening to music. This erupted at the start of the row, so I walked to the other end, and lo, withing t=two minutes, the same noise erupted from the adjacent road.

A call from the FFF mother; pops (the FFF father-quisling) might not make it because he has had a turn for the worse in the nursing home facility where he lives.

And so, for the entire evening the perps filled me with plans to pay off my above debt with the possible inheritance. Well, he isn't dead yet, so why these macabre ideations?

And the next day, awaiting the news via a phone call, why someone else phoned who need not have, as he wanted above vineyard helper's phone number which I didn't posess. All to heighten the drama over a potentially bad news phone call.

This new vineyard worker in training; did he really have to wear fricking red baggy shorts to his knees, a purple shirt and big deck shoes, all like some misguided clown? I learned in Thanks for the Memories by Brice Taylor, that her keepers liked to use clowns on young children. And so it might be that clowns are another abreaction from the memory deleted years of 1956 to 1959. But the perps have it right; I loathe the sight of clowns, and all that Ronald McDonald schtick that goes with it. Perhaps it might be the reason I loathe red hair so much, another abreactive Unfavored trait they play up.

Working at a second vineyard in the evenings, on across Skaha Lake, and near where the propane cannon goes off all day long. Who needs gunshot sounds over the whole day, and why isn't there a riot in Kaleden where this is over such an invasive and noisy sound?

Raining all day, until I drove to the other side of Skaha Lake and worked two more hours on de-suckering their vineyard.

The vineyard helper wore gumboots, the same ridiculous (and soaking wet) red shorts, a yellow shirt, and a thin rain coat over top. Possibly the rain coat to hide the infernal red+yellow color combination, as we know who likes to arrange this one in the form of vehicle combinations, gangstalker attire (one in red, and one in yellow, and lo, if they "happen" to know each other and coalesce into one visible unit), etc. And if I do not like red, and vile yellows, and absolutely loathe the two colors together, why is it that some psychopathically insane agency hounds me for over 12 years in two countries and presents this fugly color combination to me in varying forms, various distances, spatial alignments and directions? The Pyschopathic Confederacy tells me that it simulates the colors of ketchup (cannot stand the sight of it) and mustard (ditto), which were prominently displayed in some military run child abuse camp. Possibly the Indian Lake Project, as the timing was right, seeming in the late 1950's, coinciding with my recall deleted years, 1956-59.

I drove in my raingear and knee pads, (gumboots on too), a first for such driving attire, but it worked out OK and I was ready to start this extra job in no time.

At least 20 rage-fications when I got back; pulling items from my grasp, standing dumbstruck when there was something obvious to do, etc. A new mind-fuck stunt that is gaining more prominence of late is to have something in mind to do, and then switched to a new task altogether, and while in the middle of this second task, why, the original intent "comes to mind". Then they often extend this some more, screwing me out of attending to the first task yet again. Fun stuff, not trusting one's self. Never have I had such a problem of staying on task until the last six months or so.

A full Saturday of getting chores done, like visiting Walmart, getting laundry done, and then setting off to do this side job of de-suckering the vines. This task has been left too late, as the suckers are getting woody and shooting up into the canopy of shoots intended for this year's harvest. Which means I must follow these sucker shoots and cut them out piece by piece, as pulling on them will pull these shoots out too.

So far, pops seems to be doing OK, based on the absence of bad news. Which means to me, the entire stunt was fabricated to project the possibility in mind and the follow-on ridiculous financial planning.

And I see that I am already $700 overdrawn at the bank; back to these days again. They kept me in the hole for              much of 2007-2008, and it took me forvever to get out of it, as the only extra income (over the disability payments) was from farm work. The perps just love to inflict financial duress, and all the better if one is indebted.

The Father's Day ridiculousness; though to be fair, my 24 y.o. daughter sent me a card and a bar of chocolate, the first time EVER since the Day of Infamy 04-2002 she has acknowledged this day. And believe me, there is no bad blood or bad anything in the relationship, save this orchestrated nightmare to which she abides, though the ex does most of the talking for her.

And I see my web search at Newegg is getting compromised all the more. It was that there was a one-time nag window asking me if I wanted to go to, and the answer is "NO" because the Canadian child sites are usually with less selection. But now, the nag window comes up every time I change the web page, and to add insult to injury, they show the search result in the greyed down background, and when I answer "NO", they remove the search results and send me to a generic introduction page. Just the kind of thing the perps love, incrementally reduced functionality, especially this greyed down background nonsense/method that seems to be au courant.

At least 30 screamings at the perps tonight, coming off the second lost wallet jerkaround in two weeks. Somehow, my back pocket wasn't zippered, and usually is, and lo, no wallet. This "discovered" when the vineyard owner was paying me when I was at the vehicle after an 8 hour stint of de-suckering the vines. I get back to my place to look, as I had a distracting phone call this morning before I was about to depart, adroitly timed when my L boot was tied up, and my R boot was on, but without the laces tightened and tied. I often get fucked with when I am tying up my boots and shoes, but this little stunt takes the cake.

Back to the second lost wallet inside two weeks; my back pocket of my work pants ALWAYS zippered to keep my wallet secure, but "for some reason", wasn't there when I reached for it. I was, and still am totally livid over this second wallet theft/teleportation, and again, I would of totally destroyed this place and my vehicle if they hadn't dociled me. What billion dollar/year operation needs to jerk victims senseless without declaring themselves for over 12 years? All this is predicated on the fact that whatever they are after has to be done without being positively known to their victims. I just don't get it, and am fucking sick and fed up of this insane train of relentless abuse, wallets and otherwise.

From the perp's perspective, they get me to return to this vineyard I have worked 4 evenings at, and a Saturday and Sunday. Not only that, but at 0600h, my usual regular morning time departure for the regular full time vineyard. And too, they have held me up from transferring some money to my daughter, which I was going to do online with the aid of my debit card.

Onto posting this one, hoping that Monday is calmer than the last.

Sunday, June 08, 2014

The Provenance of Water

Where water comes from, and its energetic interaction with yours truly, a high abuse state TI, is of constant and abiding perp interest. And today, they added some more variations on the vineyard and roads and IN my vehicle.

For starters, they pulled a water spill in my vehicle last night after yoga, almost a liter somehow spilled out of a just-purchased 4L jug of water I was taking back to my place. This was a sealed cap and somehow the water leaked out onto the front passenger foot well. The second container didn't spill somehow, and I cleaned it up with paper towels (also a perp fetish substance). I left the windows open for the night, the car being parked outside.

And today at the vineyard, a sudden need to get the irrigation going and lo, if the sprinkler heads didn't throw more water into my vehicle's open window, as it was parked on the adjacent driveway. Needless to say, I was fucking pissed about this, two in-vehicle water attacks in 24 hours.

And per "usual", walking the irrigated area to poke the debris out of a few sprinkler heads, and then to the red grape section to do the same on the low-flow sprinklers in the row. And some split hose lines to repair, in two places. The area will be irrigated for 24 hours, and as it was partial coverage, more to follow tomorrow. All to soak my ass first thing in the morning without benefit of rain gear or gumboots. And do they ever love to soak my hiking boots to change their color to a darker green and then have them slowly dry out and of course, monitor the color change effects, whatever they may be.

There are two agricultural water sources for this vineyard; a creek that has a shared weir that is some 200m upstream, and Skaha Lake, some 130' elevation lower, so it must be pumped up. There are two storage tanks on the property, and a well that is only good for grey water use.

But it seems that the creek water source might not be available this year, as the connecting 5" pipe is split in many places, having helped bring out the 30' sections over a month ago. And of course the perps have an abiding interest into which crops recieve which water from their sources, rainfall included.

A "dry storm" day again; thunder and lightning building up and passing through but no rain for the most part, just some sprinkling added to getting sprinkled from fixing the irrigation sprinkers. As it "happened' this city some 10 km away did get rained upon, something that was evident from the puddles on the ground. Obviously, driving on wet pavement from rainfall is a big deal, and I have long given up counting the street sweeping (and wetting) games that are in advance of me driving on them. Before this latest car ownership since 04-2012, it was public transportation bus trips over certain cleaned and wetted intersections and roads.

A 3 hour nap attack tonight, putting a serious hole in this Tuesday evening. Per "usual", no sleep deficit to account for this. This preceded me getting cooked chicken from the supermarket, which was my only purchase. And we know who goes berserk over cooked meats as well as carving them up. It was 30 min, of sleeping in a chair, and then 2.5 hours in lie-down mode.

My daughter deigned to call me last night, a near first since 2002, when all this shit came down, it was made plain to me that she wouldn't call. Thanks a bunch assholes

At the vineyard, I was soaked again, doing irrigation fixes; they like to arrange this with having removed my pants and in shorts, and to soak my boots and then darken them this time with bare (tanned) legs, and then examine the effects of them drying and becoming their lighter normal olive green.

No thunderstorms today, though they did arrange high cloud to tone down the sun intensity for the afternoon

I learned that last year's vineyard helper who came up from Texas to help the owners who were confined to medical issues in Vancouver BC, was in a motorcycle accident; both ankles broken and plenty of orthopedic surgery ahead for him [Motorcycle noise as I typed this up] Plenty more parked motorcycles as props today. The part I don't get is surely that this person was aiding the perps, and everything was scripted to the microsecond, and was likely compensated by now, a year later. (We got on just great). And yet, the perps go screw him by arranging for a motorcycle accident a year to the week ago, and cripple him big time. So did he sign up for this, or is there another perp layer above the gumshoes and handlers and the compensation keepers, that lays on the heavy life-altering (for weeks at least) accidents?

Not forgetting that the vineyard owners for whom I work, and who cooperate with the perps full time, got hit last year, when the fellow got hit with an unknown condition that sent him to hospital for six weeks at this critical time of vineyard work. (Not that he does much of it anyhow, but his Vancouver located medical conditions meant that his OR nurse trained wife went down to aid him). So did the owner sign up for this one, or not? I suspect the latter, as he was intensely pissy when he got back, and seemed to be resigned to these medical "irregularities" erupting.

The usual post town vehicular gangstalking silliness; made a stop at the drycleaners as I found mold on my ski jacket that had been hanging on the same hook for over a year, as I did not wear it this past winter. The third mold attack on my belongings in the last month. I suspect I will have to move out of here.

While doing the routine vineyard work, I was planted with ideations of immaginary conversations with roomies I have not yet met, the ones that lay it all up front; shared dutties, no drama expectations etc.And another lead came to a dead stop; a person advertised a roommate situation in a 1600 sq ft. condo, with a private bathroom etc. and I replied with relevant details, and he emails back within a few hours from his Iphone with his phone number. I call him, and left a message on his answering service, referencing the email and gave him my number. This person never phoned me back, and I emailed the same message the next day, and still no response. This situation isn't ideal, (a roomie of any kind), but I could of saved $400/month in rent and yet the perps screw me out of it. This is fucking tiresome to say the least, never mind expensive beyond my income level they keep me at, as a vineyard laborer for crissakes.

Some stinging eye attacks tonight of No Ostensible Cause (NOC). Then later I was so de-energized so I couldn't get up from my chair, in near sleep but not able to move. Another never-before condition I never had until this insane abuse stream came down on me in 04-2002.

At the vineyard, more water system repairs and operations; soaked to the ass in the morning for the third day in a row. The owner brings out bottled water in a red plastic cup and plants it on the repairman's deep grey Toyota truck for a few hours. It too got soaked, "happening" to be in the sprinkler range. When seeing the sprinkler water coming toward his open truck window I ran to his truck and got his keys to close the window while the owner stopped the sprinkler head from turning. Sounds so routine, but the perps totally scrambled me, and had me mess with this dumb-assed cup at first when there was a more important thing to do, close the window. Yesterday, it was my Toyota that got soaked, and as I did not leave the keys in it, unlike the repairman today, it was an object of later remarks.

Seven low-level (300' above ground)  flyovers with an P-3 Orion sub tracking aircraft today, and the aircraft making no landing at the airport (4 miles away) at all. Each time it made an arc over top of where I was, some 300' above where I was, fairly low to see details of the underside. This from the above Wikipedia link:

The P-3 is equipped with a magnetic anomaly detector (MAD) in the extended tail. This instrument is able to detect the magnetic anomaly of a submarine in the Earth's magnetic field. The limited range of this instrument requires the aircraft to be near the submarine at low altitude. Because of this, it is primarily used for pinpointing the location of a submarine immediately prior to a torpedo or depth bomb attack. Due to the sensitivity of the detector, electromagnetic noise can interfere with it, so the detector is placed in P-3's fiberglass tail stinger (MAD boom), far from other electronics and ferrous metals on the aircraft.[14]

Just to think, they sent this military aircraft from the coastline of Canada (presumably) 400 miles inland, to come and make seven passes overhead at low elevation just to sweep me and the area with the MAD (magnetic anomaly detection) device in its rearmost "stinger" tail. And have I not long complained of being kept in a high density magnetic field, some 1700 Gauss when last measured in 2009 or so? Lets make it blatant this time; no need whatsoever to have this specialized sub tracking aircraft over land areas, and yet it arrived to make seven low level passes just for this TI victim. As always, the perps should just go fuck yourselves.

And more per-worsity, as in blatant abuse support. I see the landlord had this nanny suite painted on the outside today, and lo, if the freaky painter didn't have his tray and roller and paint sitting in front of the door, forcing me to step over it before I could get inside. Brilliant timing, as always. Which might partly explain why I am running into the "painter" acts of late. Dudes in paint splotched clothing as if they just stepped off a painting job, just "happening" to be crossing the street, another one in the laundromat the next day etc.

I got totally screwed, as in a lost, (as in teleported) wallet theft today; I was screaming infuriated at this stunt as it was so fucking blatant; I stopped at a store with wallet in hand as I had no pockets, and didn't get far into the store (5') when a staff member met me and I asked about a scratch ticket I was told to bring back from two days earlier. She said no, one goes online. Fine, I turned around and departed and then drove home with extra heavy gangstalking action, including the fire department and four police vehicles blocking the street I usually take, so I had to take a detour around this green area, driving on the wrong side of the road. I looked my vehicle over most carefully, but no fucking wallet.

I went back to the store and asked there, retraced my steps, looked under vehicles that were parked over top of where I had been when it happened, and the vehicular gangstalking legions seemed to have been doubled. No fucking wallet; it didn't go anywhere but in my hand, and yet it somehow went missing. I checked all floor surfaces, including the passenger side and seat-door space, to no avail. I was so infuriated I was ready to trash this place and my vehicle (while parked) to either find it or register my total rage over this Fuckover stunt, as it happened quite often, every two years or so before they went berserk/overt in 04-2002. Since then I have had one wallet theft (2004) and one wallet trashing in the laundry in 12 years of insane fucking abuse. (Read on).

Just to think; the sole reason for this abusive insanity of being a nonconsensual human experiment subject is that the perps don't want to declare themselves to their victims. And what is the reason for that? No one knows for sure, but I suspect it has something to do with the quantum energies associated with the measurement problem, and to have a fully unsuspecting subject, though I don't know where it goes from there, and it is likely that the street walker perps don't know either. And yes, I know the link is full of quantum-babble, but the nub of it is that an observer is part of a quantum energy activity (e.g. transference, transition event etc.) and the perps need to somehow eliminate the observer by taking them over in all their quantum energetic properties. A tall order to be sure, but they have only been abusing the shit out of me, figuratively and literally for 12 years and haven't let up yet.

And was I allowed to talk directly with my daughter on her birthday today? No-sir, not allowed, per dictate of the Psychopathic Confederacy, the Relentless Abuse Division. Sure, I was allowed to "remember" (read, remotely applied recall deletion) unlike past years, but the phone tag went at least three rounds each.

And when I "happened" to check my vehicle again before setting off to do my weekly laundry at the laundromat, why, the freaking wallet was tucked between the passenger side and the door. Like WTF; I checked there at least twice and there was no fucking wallet there. So, it was either a teleport job, or else they blanked me out so I could not even know it was there while physically looking straight at it. They have been able to do object-based non-recognition games since about 2005, when one can see something and not know what it is, and then a few years later, not even see it (recognize it) while looking at the very object one is searching for at invoked consternation.

So, some new financial cards will arrive, (read new magnetic stripes), and single card for driver's licence and medical care instead of the two separate ones they formerly issued. Some cards (about four) will be retained, moved from the old wallet to the new one (read on), and of course the cash will be retained. Plus, a "spare" wallet that was (oddly) purchased extra in 2004 with the last wallet loss is now the wallet I will use. Call it a "blended wallet contents" test; new bill fold, new financial cards, some money from the old one along with some retained loyalty cards. Just to think, this is likely the culmination of a 10 year long plan to jerk me out of my wallet while having a spare one (in fallow) all this time. And why would I have brought such a useless thing when moving to Penticton in 2012?

06-08-2014 Sunday
I got a hike in today, though again, a herd at the top of McIntyre Bluff, and most strangely some five parties on the way up while I was returning, spaced about two minutes apart. They have laid off the heavy hiking gangstalk parties this year, apart from the herds at the destination, but have now returned to form with the multiple passing parties stalking.

Warm today, sunny was forecast, but lo, if a high cloud cover didn't move in and prevent any real tanning today. I was set to loaf for an hour of tanning time and they pulled this one for whatever reason. Though they did pull some sunlight on-off games later while reading The Scientist, an autobiography of John C. Lily MD. After that, came the nap attack.

I am still buzzed out from a 2.5 hour nap attack that began at 1600h, and here it is 1940h. Some sleep deficit, though they can fix that if they need to without sending me into near fugue state after the nap. Back in the high harassment days of 2002, they would have me drive the I-5 and I-90 all night and show up to work at 0800h at my IT office job and there would be absolutely no problem of tiredness. Once I would get back to my apartment at the end of the working day, say 1700h, the head pain beams would start up and I would only find relief by driving in my vehicle for another night time adventure, maybe picking up a few hours at a rest area, and perform another day of office work without tiredness.

I have never been a nap person until all this came down, but for the rare event, I would never suffer these incredible sufferings of being awake and not have the energy/ability to get up for a half hour or more, which is nearly standard for these nap attacks, perp induced of course.

And it is a good way to put a hole in one's day, forcing them off their intended accomplishment task list, also another perp interest item.

Anyhow, a tumultuous week has passed, all to ponder the games for this week.

A new "follower" I see this week; welcome to Malice In Blunderland, a near 60 year old MKULTRA case gets unconventionally abused nonstop for 12 years and counting and his family was in on it from the get-go. (Hence calling them the First Feral Family). And the abuses of three recall deleted years when aged 2 to 5, are a seeming problem for the rest of the human nonconsensual experimentation objective, so they inundate me with orchestrated abreactive freaks and follies to undo their psychic wreckage I was unaware of. It gets worse, but that is enough for anyone to be introduced to.

Sunday, June 01, 2014


The perps have me in a deep groove of feeling grossly overweight, instead of 20lb overweight. I don't know why they do this, but these bouts will go on for a few days and then lapse into the usual few times per week level. Not to mention who can remotely remove weight by safe means without diet or invasive surgery. Yes, I loathe the sight of excess body flab, and yes, the perps take every moment they can to remind me with their orchestrated Fat Folk parades, (aka, the Gut Strut) gangstalking. Not my problem if I loathe the sight of body flab, and I don't see why an undeclared subversive agency with billions at their annual disposal needs to hound me by displaying their flabby gangstalkers over 12 years and two supposedly democratic countries (Canada, USA).

A second day this week of removing shoots from the trunks of grapevines; these are the same rows I did two weeks ago, but more shoots grew in. And it is no surprise the perps like things to be done over again, from forcing an second trip back to the house from a forced "forget" in bringing my yoga mat to the vehicle, to longer term epsisodes, like building a corporate database for forestry data that had to be done three times over 8 years. I always wondered why such ineptitude was so rampant with my former government employer, especially for IT, but now it makes sense. Especially when one adds in the perp's abiding interest in information, where it comes from, how one uses it and passes it on, how one retrieves it etc. Its as if each meme (cogent fact set) has its own psychic signature they would like to identify and of course, control. I suppose I am due for finding out about information theory, and whatever quantum energetic qualities each meme has, and then sets of associated memes. Way to complicated for a vineyard laborer.

Smoke alarm hi-jinx late last week. One failed, and the landlady supplied me with another. It kept chirping every 5 minutes by itself once the battery was put in it, even if it did pass the button press test. Then she brought another one, same make, and lo, if it didn't also do the same. Funny she hasn't asked about them, all three lined up just inside my door for her to pick up. (Which she didn't).

I see that yesterday's blogging just disappeared, now starting anew (again) for the week. [No, it somehow came back in an artful bait-and-switch stunt,- some 10 minutes later].

And just for my benefit, a new perp integration stunt. Having a certain Fat Girl, "ML" for now, in my (invaded upon) dreams just before getting up, and now, many follow-on planted ideations of her while making breakfast. Never before have I had dream material that was then fodder in my waking thoughts.

Vineyard work today; some rain while tucking vine shoots in the trellis wires. And lo, if the assholes didn't pull a dog shit stunt, plastering it onto my knee pads just before my 1000h morning break.

A day of clothing changes; rain gear on (pants and jacket), then as the rain rolled off the former with my sweater on, then removing the sweater for a shirt on, then with no rain pants on as it continued to warm up and become dry. All as a prior color energy "warm up" to helping the son-in-law unload his cargo of four pallets of brown glass cider bottles in brown cardboard box cases, a five high pallet load, the same ones I was handling on the weekend (4 days ago) and bottlling at another site.

He needed me to aid in pushing the pallet jack in with the fork lift and pallet jack, while he ran the fork lift to move the pallets between his trailer and the shipping container. And to no surprise, I have encountered vehicular gangstalking trailer loads of wine bottles the weekend before (on a Sunday no less), last weekend, and the adjacent winery with a very similar trailer load some 400m away, left out all day for some reason. Not to mention our own winery has three pallet loads of bottled, but unlabelled wine sitting in it.

And a major vehicular gangstalking event, as I headed to the same son-in-law of the owner to drop something off, and he gave me some left over ice wine and some of his to-be-commerical sauces I had tried last week.

Vineyard tucking all day long, mostly sunny but not hot. A vehicular clusterfuck at the gate when leaving; some seeming two visiting couples in two vehicles parked in the driveway at the gate and decidedly blocking egress. They walked the 100m of driveway I had just driven on to retrieve their vehicles, one driving the white vehicle past me, and the other strangely backing up the orange (Unfavored color) up onto the road. And the owner "happened" to be returning from Vancouver (5 hour drive) at that moment, and so his black SUV was also queued up (having been driven past the gate and then turned around a quarter mile ahead and now coming downhill). All told, four vehicles including mine for the mere act of departing from my work site, something I do 5x/week. Though, it is consistent with long running nonsense stunts at this same gate, and as mentioned in past blogs, going from gravel to paved surfaces, or vice versa, is a HUGE deal for the Psychopaths of the Fourth Reich.

Saturday, and the usual litany of chores to do; laundry with the red-shirts and shiftless males in ball caps. And while it was washing, onto other chores, one being a Walmart visitation to get a new pillow, as the prior one had yellow stain on it for some reason, unconventional as far as I could tell. It is been at my head for the last five years or more, and goes nowhere else, so what is it that is inexorably staining the pillow? [inexorable [in-ek-ser-uh-buhl] adjective 1. unyielding; unalterable].

And believe me, Walmart visitations are a chore, and if not, a nonstop threat alert situation. Since the males making hand signals and other like extra-obvious silent communications at the entrance, and the staff member in a red smock, who most inexplicably wasn't looking ahead and just about chest butted me, I make only rare trips there. This Walmart has been recently renovated to superstore status, and so it was instructive to cruise around and check it out. I was there early enough, about 0830h, so there wasn't the throngs of human per-worse-ity to contend with. Just more shiftless males in ball caps and a pronounced waddle and the loathesome "gut strut" and their ridiculous baggy and checked shorts to their knee or lower. And they made a point of doing faux shopping and erupting for reprises of two or more times, usually in succession. If I don't like the sight of such public specimens (aka, the Unfavored), then why am I getting hounded with this variety of freaks at every turn? All them either members of the Psychopathic Confederacy with billions to burn, or else local wannabes.

At least the cashier was cute, even with facial jewelry; the cleavage show didn't go unnoticied either. An E. Indian fat girl as well, though her doe eyes aided the female feature attraction count. And she seemed a little jaded, even if I was her first customer of the day. Hmmm, she won't last too long in that job, and maybe she is a "visitor", aka, a stand-in of the perps. And given their predilection for Fat Girl stalking, starting with Ms. C of on/off (x2) girlfriend status in 2000-2003, perhaps it is the same Fat Girl all along. I never would of figured out that they could do morphing (aka shape shifting) of individuals until they led me down their education path, but it seems easy enough for them to have individuals change race, facial features, hair color etc. for temporary purposes and in short order (5 minutes or less). The perps seem to need longer to have their morphed subjects/operatives change height or width, and do this less often.

And of course, they have done some of that to me; I will be 60 y.o. in July (2014) and I look 35 y.o. or so. And they mangled my face some too, by making the right eyebrow 1/2" higher than my left side (their asymmetry requirement). Such a treat them fuckers, who performed this artful appearance change back in early 2004 and have kept me this way since then. Like Dorian Grey, though I never made a pact with anybody. Besides, I would gladly exchange the current abuse state for looking like an elder-fogey, though without the ossified perspective one associates with that demographic group.

Other morning chores were to dispose of the three smoke alarms that were each found to be dysfunctional this week, courtesy of my landlady bringing two to replace the one that went wonky. They were all wonky as it "happened", and I invited her to try them out as she left them here, but she didn't take me up on it and delivered a new one instead. I had to take that ionizing radioactive (negative orgonic properties) e-waste to the recycling location along with the glass bottles. And yet again, a shiftless male in a ball cap was loitering (and sucking butt (a cigarette)) in the plant yard, making himself out to be a staff member who "happened" to precede me inside with the smoke alarms after I first dropped the glass into the correct bin.

I got screwed out of my reward bonus at the local food market I frequent. Somehow I "forgot" to read the part in my email  about printing it out and somehow I assumed they could see my reward on their till-PC, but no, I had to have a print out in hand. And too, their membership site blows up every time I attempt to log in, so what is the point of that reward program except to piss me off?

All the while long trains, ten or more, of vehicular gangstalking traffic built up; the usual litany of grey-scale colors with a red vehicle inserted in the middle, and now, more green vehicles, often at the tail end of these trains/pods. (I call them trains if in a single lane, and pods if they are two or more lanes clustered together).

Another chore in the morning was for me to clean my briefcase they that got hit with a mold attack this week. I have no idea how a briefcase sitting in the floor in mid-suite, and NOT next to an external wall (per four prior mold eruptions) got mold on it and the carpet didn't. Said briefcase was my office workaday accompaniment since 1999 to late 2002, and because I don't work in an office now, it is largely unused, save for keeping certain papers in a safe location. Not that the landlady is fussed about the mold eruptions here, even if she did clean up the 6' of wall length along the base boards last week. This was the mold eruption that occured on my suitcase, the one I surreptitiously cleaned with the power washer at the car wash, and the associated skit of the attendant making out that he knew, even if he never saw it. (He was washing a car outside around the corner from me while I was washing the suitcase that was exposed outside of the trunk for a minute or so.) And another fine coincidence (ahem); both my suitcase and my briefcase are made mostly from black ballistic cordura, that hard wearing nylon weave. Call it the Mold Eruption on Ballistic Nylon Confluence/Coincidence.

As my leg hairs regrew so quickly (four weeks ago) I had to get them waxed again, another perp preoccupation they put me through since mid-2011. Like last time, there was a prior day of tanning my legs; having worked in shorts at the vineyard yesterday.

It was the same elf-ish cute blonde girl as last time, and the perps are really trashing my recall of late. Both she and the haircutting student of last time were at the front desk, and it barely registered that I had seem them before. And I never, ever, forgot a face until all this insane shit rained down on me since 04-2002. The first prominent instance of facial "forgets" was in mid-2006 when at the LD store in Victoria, and my dentist's office assistant, a model of kindness and efficiency, was acting in a capacity of a store staff member and selling me a product. Only some 15 minutes later, after I was back at my place, did I know who she was. This insane memory fucking has increased of late and I am getting hugely perturbed that this will continue. Wasn't it a film director who said we are nothing but our memories? So true, and the malevolent Psychopathic Confederacy knows how to dynamically and operationally mess with one's recall by remote means.

And leg waxing was also a time for the HD motorcycle parade outside, the front door being propped open by a chair to ensure that a full-on noise experience wasn't missed. And the leg wax was red again, surely a perp arrangement as they ordinarily used a light yellow colored wax. And as the perps are so fussed with my red color exposures, it suggests they are making progress in isolating the effects of red on me. It used to be back in 2002 to 06-2006 when I was last allowed to own and drive a car (until 04-2012 to present), I would purposely park my vehicle next to a red colored vehicle, and nearly every time when I returned, the red vehicle(s) were gone. Once they arranged at least ten parked red vehicles on the W side of a parking lot and I parked next to the E most red vehicle. When I came out, all the red vehicles were gone. Today, they parked a red vehicle next to mine while I was getting my legs waxed nearby. Interesting, their incremental boldness with red colors of late. Though brown vehicles are becoming a little more prominent too, usually while driven though.

It was interesting that the perps had me saw two 36" of 1x1" aluminum istock n half after leg waxing, along with amping up the local lawn mower noise and adding in the wretched HD motorcycle noise. They even put a 10 y.o kid driving his father's large pickup truck by in the back lane, making the corner while his father coached him from the front passenger seat. The act of cutting something up, from tortillas in four to chicken meat and anything else, using knives or saws or whatever is such a HUGE deal for the perps. The aluminum stock had been sitting around for some four weeks and I wasn't allowed to get on with using it, or even drilling it until today. This wretched server rack project has turned out to me a four month continuum of tasks that are separated by weeks, which doesn't fit well with my strong and normally abiding inclination to get things done NOW. All the aluminum saw dust was of great perp interest, spreading it on me, on the vice-bench I have and it defying gravity to stay in place.

After getting sucked into "thinking" that yesterday was June 01, it finally arrived. The perps just love these mindfuck games; erroneous acceptance of their planted (and wrong) information, and then the follow-on event of realizing it was erroneous is a prime noise-stalk occasion.

Still groggy after a 1.75 hour nap attack; I am not sleep deprived and even gained extra sleep both mornings of this weekend.

Sunny until I was out on my hike today, then the clouds rolled in after 30 min. of tan time, legs only. I usually go an hour for outside tan time and close it off then no matter how it looks. Another hiking "herd" of 15-20 or so at the top of McIntyre Bluff today, and no trail trail traffic except one dog walking party. Most odd, and they put families on the trail with small children to buzz about, often a half dozen per direction. Though, I had the company of a snake that scuttled out of the way, and me too, taking an extra hop to put some distance between me and it. And of course for the next 45 min. of trail walking time, why, there was at least six simulated events. For example, boughs that had a particular sinuous or serpentine look to them, some of them planted/arranged for my return on the same trail as they weren't there before. And too, something else, likely a bird was scuttling out of the way in the same fashion as the snake a few minutes beforehand. Call it the trauma re-creation games, something the perps just love to pull off. Or parts of it; in this case the sound, and the visual recreation events separately.