Tuesday, July 07, 2015

Digging Ground

Yoga; about 10 women class members and me in the second time wearing of my full leg tights, mentioned in the previous post. The perps seem to like me wearing stretchy spandex fabrics, and this is the latest pair back from the Filipino alterations shop.

A national holiday, Canada Day. I spent the afternoon in 38C heat digging a hole withing the foundation forms of a new house construction job. The soil was alluvial in origin, of unsorted sizes of rounded rock, with a 3' diameter one lodged in the middle of this well I dug. The plans changed after the excavator was there, hence hand digging. I have no complaints about doing this kind of work, even if it is hot. Much better than if were raining.

The boss man ragging me over what shorts I wear; he seems to not like my spandex ones, and suggested the baggy ones. As in total gangstalker scene, the baggy things to the knees. I'd rather wear pants.

Vineyard work is now into the leaf pulling stage, with the owner telling me how long last years crew took. All in keeping with productivity statistics, another perp theme.

Then house maintenance duties, with me up a ladder with a vacuum cleaner to take off the myriad spider webs and nests. I can't think of a better confluence of perp props; ladders and vacuum cleaners, and how they chase me all over town with these separate features on vehicles. That is, the now ubiquitous ladders on trades trucks and vans, and the "suck trucks", those drain cleaning heavy duty trucks, and of course, vacuum cleaners in vans, and wherever I may be walking.

Continued footwear (boot) fuckery; both at the shoe repair guy, and he didn't finish even one of them. Which means another day of wearing runners in the vineyard, and I expect he will stall me out until past the weekend. One pair of boots 7 yo, but worn now only two weeks has had four trips to the shoemaker, as the soles keep separating. Made in China, he says, but why cannot he glue them up and call it done? The other pair is my hiking boots, my long serving boots of three years, work every work day. New soles for them, understandably, but if the new soles are in, and he said he would fix them today, why aren't they ready?

And of course the perps take advantage of me wearing runners, having me go over on my ankles and impair my ability to spin my feet while wearing runners and various other anti-gravitic stunts they so like to pull. And I suppose it was such a special event to have me wearing runners at work that they scheduled me to go up the ladder, per above. And too, having two prior "warm up" days, one with the boots with the flapping heel, and then a day in the hiking boots that I retrieved from the shoemaker for a day. He wanted them today, so I dropped them off yesterday afternoon, and as mentioned, no word on progress. This is the same shoemaker who has sat on my knee pads for over a year and hasn't fixed them.

A two hour nap attack this evening, effectively replacing dinner, having had only a soup course. But I suppose maybe they wanted more psychic access after the yellopw-green soup.

Then sent me to a store that was closed when I know their closing time had passed.

Friday, though said dedicated to vineyard work, it turned out not to be so; making up shipping orders, driving somebody, 

No short shorts or spandex shorts allowed at work now, after two semi-unhinged broadsides from the boss man, the boss lady clarified what she would be expecting, And too, recognizing that I am in the vineyard or in the public (wine tasting) eye and crossing between these roles/venues over the day, I must wear cargo shorts.

The footwear fuckery continues; both pairs of work boots are in at the shoe repair, with one pair, hardly worn, is "acting up" with the glue in the sole failing every few days. This pair is in for the fourth time, and has been timed to coincide with the much needed re-sole of the ever dependable hiking boots. The hiking boots are three years old are worn 5x/week, all day and have "earned" their repair state. The repair guy needed the hiking boots back for  yesterday, and thereby cutting me out of having any boots to wear in the vineyard. So.. it is running shoes for now.

A hot day in these regions, and a good thing for the vines I was working on. I joined my alternate employer for a day of tucking vines in the heat. But as "usual" (since 2010), I am relatively impervious to wilting in the heat, now tested up to 40C (104F). It is one of the few positive attributes the perps have changed for me.

Eye stinging came on when a few of the Punjabi workers spoke with me for the first time. No doubt to engender a whole lot of fuckery; remove my safety glasses, remove my glasses and wipe my eyes while listening/speaking (in English). The guy opposite me (same row for tucking) who came some two hours into the work day, turned out to be Punjabi, as he could of passed for a Mexican. As the day went on, the perps inserted the notion that he could be my Kamloops brother in morph-over. He was the same height, same build and not that dark. How the perps have someone become Punjabi fluent who is of another native language is beyond conventional belief, save flat-out mind control.

On the way back I purchased employer-acceptable shorts, and dropped in at the LD store, and got messed around among navigating the heavy gangstalker patrol, in getting all the items I needed. The ambulatory gangstalk show included the usual freaks, aisle blocking, faux shoppers doing the bend over pose, and one posted at the chocolate section within 4' of where I "needed" to to obtain a particular brand. Then a three gangstalker party aisle confluence to force me to to stop heading to the checkout. One faux staff member was on his knees putzing on at the displays for the checkouts they never use, encroaching on the effective aisle width. Then the party of two in lead-ahead stalking mode suddenly stops in mid-aisle, doing the faux-dunce aisle block. It would of been natural for me to thread between these two parties and keep going, but no, a lone dude "happened" to be coming the other way and he threaded the needle, navigating between the two now stationary aisle blocking parties. The dude, in don't-look-at-me mode finally passes, and then it is my turn to navigate through in the opposite direction. Like WTF; three gangstalking parties organized to hold me up for a whole ten seconds while headed to the checkout. Perhaps it was all about the brown, that is, the brown colored top on the woman of the two member aisle blocking contingent.

A total sleep and time discombobulation; I got hit with a 3.5 hour nap attack last evening, awaking at 2200h, about the time I would go to bed on a weekend. As there were dishes to be done, and air dry laundry hanging, I devoted my efforts to cleaning up the mess. Add in some hair plucking, and I was "ready" for bed again.

But no innocent deed goes un-disrupted. So... have the victim wake up at ?? hour and have the victim "think" it is 0600h, and wander/wonder around why the sun wasn't streaming through. This also entailed looking out the E windows to see if there was cloud cover, and there wasn't. This mystery wasn't resolved, and I have no knowledge of doing/why I went back to bed to sleep some more. And so I awaken again, for the third time in less than 12 hours, and after "misreading" the time again, I was finally allowed to know I that is was 0600h. A total time/sleep jerkaround. And for what?

A hike in runners, something I never normally do, as the hiking boots are still in for repair. The shoe repair guy indicated that he would only need a day, but gosh darn, he didn't phone, or return calls. Even if they are fixed by tomorrow (Monday), that would make it five days without any work boots. All too characteristic of the Footwear Fuckery Gang, a division of the Psychopathic Confederacy. And yes, the perps have a footwear fetish, "needing" to relieve me of my regular boots every year or two, and for much longer than necessary.

Time to get this posted before it becomes a run-on personal diary. Speaking of which, the 12 year habit of a hand written diary has suddenly ended. All the more pointed and unusual events usually don't make it into this public blog, so I wonder if this isn't a form or censorship, having the victim self edit the harassment record.

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