Busy with the Mundane

1215h
A four stop outing this morning brought on major silliness of gangstalking. The preparation of the TI (me) was to have a full frontal shave with a new razor insert, change my clothes for an entire fresh set and do laundry (including the rare event of the shower curtain that had to be done twice due to an eruption of blue lint in the washing machine). Part of the clothing change up included a never-worn-before sand colored shirt that had been lying in "fallow" on the drawer bottom (plywood) since 10-2009. As mundane as all this sounds, it is a big deal for the tormentors who are obsessed with my laundry, the "effects" of just laundered clothes on one, the "effects" (whatever they are) of a new unlaundered shirt and that of plywood and its phenolic resin content. Don't ask why they are so nuts about these items, but they are, and it is totally predictable.

1410h
The above text didn't get saved in Blogspot due to some "internal problem" and was transferred to Notepad, and lo, if it wasn't gone when I logged on again. Fortuneately, I could copy and paste it back. And in another related coincidence to the ongoing perp interest in my Windows Select/Copy/Paste actions that goes on all the time, I get a phone call on the heels of pasting the above journal entry back in. More silliness over the mundane, but that is what they are up to these days; parsing the minutiae of doing squat into yet smaller chunks, -e.g. having me make two trips to the cupboard when one would of done. As mentioned many times before, the timing of phone calls is almost exclusively at events that interest the perps. Usually the calls don't last long, and sometimes are these apparent system generated calls for the wrong person. I suspect the EMF signature of the live earpiece and the microphone offer localized benefits, which makes sense as they are keeping me in a densified magnetic field, measured at over 1600 Gauss last year. (And shown in one of the 2009 pictures). Other magnetic activity is seeing masers and plasma beams in my vision all the time, where once (late 2002, measured then to be 200 Gauss) it was only a few times per minute.

This morning's outing was to the employment counsellor to get my Oracle course certificates photocopied as a result from my training grant application. It seems that someone is actually reading it, and wants further information no less. The same grant was submitted last year and got turfed within a week for no specific reason. And with a new employment counsellor, and the doctor turning around for reasons that are uncertain, I have the counsellor's recommendation this time. All a big game it is, everyone playing along, and that includes the doctor.

I took a course of new medication in mid-December that made me worse, which to my knowledge was not tied to getting his recommendation. And when the counsellor showed me the doctor's letter last week, why, the medication change was a key reason for his change of opinion. Let me count; that is six of six neuroleptic medication courses that made me worse in 7.5 years; when is someone going to get it that I have ADD as shown by a SPECT scan in 2001, before the fuckers went into overt harassment in 04-2002, and it still remains the trump card of diagnosis. And furthermore, the coincidence of ADD and psychosis is so remote it isn't even in the clinical texts, Barkley in particular. And again, having no family or personal history at age 47 is also extremely remote, so why is it only me that is putting these improbable events together? Though, I should mention that the current doctor says I am being persecuted, and it is not a clinical condition, and that the medication is to help me deal with the stress. I don't think he knows the definition of the word in my context, though I would not be surprised if the entire physiolology of stress weren't remotely detectable and controllable, and that what seems like stress to me has any longer term consequences abated. And all the more curious too, is that stress makes one age prematurely, and here I am, looking 10 years younger over 2009, 20 years younger than my present age 55. (Sorry, Rachael).

A big noise day today; the outside gate to the parking lot below is being installed, second installment in fact, and plenty of metal bashing and pounding is going on as I write this, along with a constant generator hum since I got back at 1100h. The metal bashing started in earnest when I was chopping up the cooked turkey meat, still working through the Christmas bounty. As mentioned many times before, the noisestalking is almost a given when I engage in this activity, and I have yet to find out why the assholes want more noise at this event than most. The application of peanut butter and jam on my one slice of gluten free bread at breakfast is also a big noise, that being them enraging me by flicking the jam or peanut butter off the knife and other assorted fuckery over what was once a mundane task. They cannot get enough of having one color placed in front of another, especially if it is body substance colors; red, dark red, brown, dark greens and dark blues (latter two being vein colors). In this case, it is the noise of me yelling at the assholes, and I think they have only let up once in the past year on this one.

1820h
Other entertainment from the gangstalker consort this morning was negro placement at the bank again; they do this about 30% of the time at least, and there is less than 3% negroes in this town, so what is the fucking deal? Maybe PTSD from those "cage the kids" days as seen in the Indian Lake Project, where I might have gained (read, traumatized) a dim view of kids, blind people (one today), males, especially grey haired mid-aged ones of which there had to been at least a hundred over my three block four stop outing this morning. Nearly all of them in red/black or yellow/black Goretex anoraks, aka Teflon coated clothing. Don't these fuckers have a day job where they can go to, say, write scripts for other TI's instead of hounding me all the time in public? I cannot stand the sight of them. So, it would seem the sickos have the advantage; I have no idea what was done to me from mid-1956 through 1959, and I have indicated in past blogs that two of those years were spent in Montreal. BUT it would seem that the Fuckwits know exactly what transpired, and want me to see re-enactment vignettes of these days to emulate the very parties and props (especially big black vehicles) that has left PTSD scars, aka subconscious traumatizations, of this time period. And it is this particular cast of loathings (aka the Unfavored) that seems to be a continuing problem for the said Fuckwits. So what does it have to do with me, and why cannot you assholes come out of the closet on this ongoing insane life wasting nonconsensual human experimentation?

And why cannot I be allowed to type for crissakes instead of the endless train of typos that I clean up; I have been keyboarding on computers since 1975, so why in the fuck am I contained at less than 15 wpm? And why are more of the typos from insertions now, from keys that were not pressed by me?

One can expect none of those questions to be answered anytime soon, like two years or more, going by the idiotic fuckery over typos, turning a page, taking a piss, operating a light switch and everything else that is deemed to perturbable by sickos at work.

Back to the bank visitation this morning to get six rolls of quarters for the coin slots for the washing machine and dryer. (One dollar coins have been here for over 20 years, so WTF?). No line up, and the negro dude was 30' ahead and went directly to a teller; out of sight, out of mind, and never saw him again. I had a large homely trainee woman teller with a blonde assistant helping her, so everything got slowed down, but no big deal, it is the perp way of late. The teller wicket next on my left was active, and two more attractive blondes were at work there. At one point, they and my two tellers all went to the central cash depot, so I had four backs facing me, and that is a very common perp arrangement, doing a "back show", getting more spines arrayed toward me. And while this was happening, a black haired woman, overly made up and looking rather (overly) stern, did a back and forth between me and the blonde babes' backs (and the teller trainee). And so it seemed that the entire episode was arranged to have blonde babes around one homely woman, in some kind of "blonde auric goodness" demonstration. I have remarked on these arrangements many times, and usually it is the male Fuckwit that gets surrounded by blonde babes, but this time, the homely woman version as the apparent focus.

Then a 2.5 block walk to the LD store for a chocolate load up, and Gillette Foamy was $2.49, so I got two, even with the mid-aged male Fuckwit standing over me pretending to be shopping. Then back to the chocolate where a pink beret, also seen 2.5 blocks away only 15 minutes earlier "happened" to precede down the chocolate aisle with a mid-aged male chinless Fuckwit. (That is three Unfavoreds on him alone. I did the grab and go, Milka at $2.49 each, and went to the checkout where two ladies in purple were. I waited for them and the latter one's pink purse act  before I got my turn. And while waiting, the pink beret woman did another gangstalking reprise, and the the dude hanging over me at the Gillette Foamy came by too. Then two other shiftless males were hanging around, and just before I set off to go, why, they preceded ahead of me, and ensured that I walked between them. This fucking bullshit over entering and exiting buildings is just insane, and here two extra-obvious male Fuckwits were "at work". I got the cashier with the severed hand again; she is attractive and no older than 30, but I really don't want to look at her stump any more than I have to. A juxtaposition of the Favored and the Freaky perhaps.

And note, all eight items that I purchased were $2.49 each, and I suppose this wasn't a fluke either, and don't ask me why or how this kind of bullshit is arranged, but it happens. Extra dimensionality perhaps, for those who follow high strangeness in technical terms?

Then onto the alteration shop where I had the Cool-tan shirt hems resown; another planted vanity exercise to be sure, though I am sure the perps find substantial benefit from lesser sun exposures than flat out tanning. This is the way it seemed last summer anyhow, which had more sun tanning arranged than the year before, so who knows what is going down for this summer. More farm work I suspect, as they bumped me up to four months of it last year from two the year before. And lo, if there wasn't another mid-aged male Fuckwit who arrived while I was in the store, sitting on a bench 12' away when I exited the store, doing his lean-forward and look-away act. I am sick fed up of being hounded by this population demographic; they know this, but arrange "starter blondes" and put on the dufus dudes later.


Still no picture uploads allowed; the Blogspot buttons are removed, and the location of the former buttons isn't active either.

2040h
Big select, cut and paste job going on while compiling a hazelnut loaf recipie from four I found on the internet. Like I say, the perps have me doing this, and then fuck me over attempting to print the outcome, by preventing the print preview button from working. Then they wouldn't allow me to see the page break I inserted and then mangled the printing of the table into a compressed string of too-small boxes That precipitated more jerkarounds, taking the earmuffs off and screaming at them, and lo, if the neighbor and outside noises don't start up just then too. And just when I find the needed feature to "fix" this fuckery, why, a sudden need for a piss break. Then back to the "fix", and lo, if it doesn't print out just the way I wanted it in the first place. Only six sheets later, and then that was the lead up to taking a tea and chocolate break. A few more screamings at them for planting fake touches on me and excessive water splashing and messing up my fine motor control, and hey, everything is just they way they want it; having me steaming infuriated while eating brown chocolate.

2335h
Another round of this recipe compilation wretchedness, per above.

And all manner of visual distortions of a perfectly planar LCD panel are being tested on me; tilting the text in various directions, compacting it, lifting it as if it were a 3D puffy cloud, speckling the text and many other momentary and disconcerting distortions, like to be done for getting a vocalization response (aka, swearing loudly at the assholes).

Plenty of noisestalking erupted while I read the first news of the latest disaster in Haiti, an earthquake this time. Sometimes I wonder if it isn't tied in the the perps' negro and other racial presentation games, or whatever the fuck it is all about. Certainly a big gangstalking and noisestalking to complement their activities, though I won't venture that the earthquake was arranged.

Time to post this; (maser flies off the LCD at my forehead as I typed the semi-colon for crissakes)

Clicking in the Ear Muffs +Next Day Add On

2145h
I wear ear muffs plenty often to block the cacaphony of dumbshit noise that goes on all day, mostly from outside. But when they start a clicking noise in the the ear muffs, it is time to pull them off. And so begins this blog, timed for me blogging after this annoyance, of a deep green plastic construction with black pads to seal my ears and a metal sprung headband spanning my head. Just another event in this imposed alternate reality.

Another reason I started blogging was that I recieved a comment, which I selected to publish, and it hasn't shown up, and I had every intention to respond to it, and now (so far), it is gone for good. Just another event, in the long list of adversity that makes up every fucking day.

The comment was about teleportation and suggesting that it may not always be what it seems. I have no doubt the perps can cancel out ambient noise and have a gangstalker arrive behind me with no warning, and it has happened many times. I assume this is not a teleportation, though it could be, because experience tells me that clattering female gangstalker footwear that can suddenly go silent as the gangstalker departs, is blatant sound cancellation games; either neurally, or the physical waveform itself.

Other teleportation events relate to objects flying in onto my dinner plate at each meal, and even if looking at the plate when they arrive with an inordinant ping and ringing of the ceramic plate surface, they are not coming from anywhere that I can see, not the food I am holding which would be the only conventionally plausible source. Another favorite situation is to teleport is dog hairs (could be anyone's hairs, but I use doghair in an ironic sense as I don't have a dog or any pet- not allowed) on just cleaned surfaces. Once when cleaning the bathtub I gave up after forty of them "arrived" (didn't see them arrive, save one in a transitory metallic mid-air sheen over the spot it landed) on all the just-cleaned surfaces, all over the bathtub. And also, my vehicle has been moved 20' to be parked next to a washing machine on my landlord's lawn once, though again, I didn't see it move. I have seen the Fuckwits disappear out of mid-air only a few times, but mostly they arrange for me to have a momentary look away, and poof, they are there (or gone).

The police had three officers and two vehicles arrive within 5 seconds of me arriving at my parent's (insane quisling assholes) driveway, and I didn't see any of their vehicles nearby, so I figure this was a teleport job, and not the only one, as they pulled a similar stunt again. If there is a simple explanation for the noiseless arrivals and departures in my proximity (people or objects), I usually assign it to sound cancellation fuckery, and leave it at that. But as there are so many crumbs, lint and doghairs arriving all day (over 100/day at this time, and getting worse) without apparent cause, and of fabrics or colors that are not resident in my place or my wardrobe, I make what I consider to be the only conclusion that any other reasonable person can make, and that it was teleported. And the shear number of events in a day is far in excess of what I had experienced before the perps went overt/beserk in 2002. I hope this clears up the teleportation comment that was made by Anonymous, but the stories now number in the hundreds, thousands if I count each mealtime's crumbs, lint and doghairs. The above examples are only a few to demonstrate the range of unconventional causes the perps could be up to, and the conclusions I draw from them.

An all day Oracle PLSQL course today, and the perps got me plenty rage-ified at breakfast by ringing the glass coffee pot with no causal event. The spoon was at least 2" away and it did not move by itself to make contact to make the noise. (Or else they blanked me out totally, and blanked out the knowledge of discontinuous time which they couldn't do until 2006). Then they kept banging things like the jam jar where the knife did not contact the jar, slapped jam down from nowhere just an inch from the jam ladden knife, and crumb-ified the coconut butter I am using now, (and having it stored at room temperature next to a new peanut butter jar). One of those proximate games again, keeping the new replacement item (white coconut butter) next to the regular item (brown peanut butter) as stored in the kitchen. (Coconut butter is stiff and crumbly at room temperature and  and is best scooped out with a spoon). But as breakfast time peanut butter and jam were always big rage events, the perps are now ramping up with the short term replacement, coconut butter and jam. And in fact, they are applied jam first to then embed the coconut crumbs in it to keep them in place, though there is plenty of legitimate crumbing activity, without extra-conventional gravitic fuckery. And of course, reversing the application order of jam first on the toast is just too exciting for the perps as this is a limited time event, as I don't expect to be eating coconut butter too often as it is $15/500g. I am sure this is all part of their interest in edible oils, their digestion and assimilation, an ongoing perp interest of the highest order.

More strange events in class today; a large Fuckwit woman in a deep brown top and grey pants wanders into the central aisle in the classroom, starts touching some of the desks and PC's, makes out to be looking for something, and then wanders out some 30 seconds later, never to be seen again. They pulled this stunt last week, but with guys, who seemed to be totally out of it and didn't have a cover story like the electrician did (electrical panel) some time before that.

Another was having a strange male negro visitation in the classroom; I only caught the last 5 seconds of his visage, but he appeared to be exiting the far end of the classroom where the hallway was. Most curious, he in a reflective metallic blue sports jacket, and seemed to be like the one on the bus two days ago. Another negro gangstalker placement was downtown when spotted waiting on the other side of t he crosswalk, and then they immediately had me looking at way more attractive black Audi A3 (?) station wagon passing between us. Regular readers will know they pulled a similar trick about a year ago; having the negro posing in front of the apartment building and then diverting my attention to dog shit only 2' to my immeidate right side. I wouldn't normally of looked at the latter as I had obviously not seen it and it wasn't an ambulatory threat/problem, so for me to look totally sideways while heading forward (like the perps do) was uncharacteristic enough to be labelled as a perp directed attention move. Just another negro comparison event it would seem, the Unfavored and then the Favored within a short time span of only a few seconds.

I get plenty of imposed "blank outs" as to what is ailing my PL/SQL code, and I never made such obvious errors before in this endeavor. It seems that the perps can now customize "blindness" (cognitive recognition of print) for a specific line or word set; it doesn't register as being seen or recognized.

The chirp noise stalking was going on all day yesterday, and as mentioned, there is no ostensible cause that I am aware of that would cause it, these two second long chirps with a varying pitch as the sound decays. And just to drive the point home, they woke me up sometime last night 0200 to 0500h, just so I could hear this freaking noise again. I suppose they are doing nightime correlations between the noise and the neural stimulation, as the time of day and the lighting conditions are so vital to their research. And lo, if the same noise didn't somehow get through the ear muffs I am wearing tonight. Normally I get a din and a ringing noise the entire time I wear ear muffs, but they decided I needed some extra ludicrous examples of the gratuitous noise du jour.

Other perp beserkness today seemed to center on the fact I was wearing my dark grey undershirt, under an olive green sweater. This seemed to be the basis for at least a half dozen same colored vehicles parked outside this apartment building on my way to the bus stop. Normally I might get one or two of that color, but today they decided that this undershirt gets the extra beserk treatment. They even had an heating oil delivery truck painted the same color, making a delivery some 60' distant from the bus I was on. I have seen many of this company's heating oil delivery trucks on my gangstalked travels, and the tank has always had a bright metallic finish of aluminum or stainless steel. But today, a special delivery truck with the tank painted a deep dark grey, same as my undershirt. The last time I wore it, and swore off wearing this deep grey undershirt, was at the farm labor job when the specially deep grey painted military Sea King helicopter made at least eight sorties the times that I was outside.

The subzero weather has me wearing my only sweater, and an undershirt underneath, and it would seem that the perps have been working me over to wear a white undershirt, a mid-grey one, and now the deep grey one. All very exciting for them to be working me through the greyscale colors, though they could do better by leaving me the fuck alone.

Enough caustic commentary, and now to post this.

12-13-2009
1300h
Another laundry morning, this time bedsheets which run on a two week cycle, the one set that I have, and gets mysterious brown stains on the pillow cases, possibly as an adjunct to the yellowing of the pillows, and the underlying mattress cover. How the intervening sheet doesn't get yellowed when sandwiched between the mattress cover and the pillow cases is only a secondary mystery as to where the yellowing and browning comes from in the first place. One cannot keep up on the bedsheet and clothing sabotage. The latter is playing out in the form of pilling on the three new shirts I ordered, and began with the inability to find quality casual crew necked shirts in a non-pilling fabric, such as stretch cotton. It defies logic as to how Lands End keeps up with the latest cotton fabric innovations for men's polo shirts and their women's tops and blouses, but cannot get it together for men's crew neck tops. Unless my version of their website is "de-tuned", which might be the case, as this fucking shirt quality/availibility/style game has been going on before they went over/beserk in 2002. There has been great mileage in this shirt availibility game, and I doubt if it is going to abate anytime soon.

Even the one nice stretch cotton shirt I had went through a metamorphosis, and "developed" a deep and even pleasant looking nap to the surface of the fabric in 2006, but they recently whacked it with accelerated wear at the neck seems, so it was time to retire it.

The salad fuckover games are still ramping up; they had me rage-=ified over having crumbs stick to my fingers that I couldn't get off, one being a slice of the hazel nuts that are added in. And great amounts of noise stalking when chopping up said hazel nuts, specially soaked for three days in advance. The raw food folks say that all nuts and grains should be soaked some days before eating as it brings on enzymatic changes that make it more nutritious and flavorful. I vouch for the latter, though who knows if this is a direct neural intervention fabrication or genuinely true. Suffice to say, making and eating salad is now at the near 100% provocation and rage-fication level as applying peanut butter and jam on toast fro breakfast. (Recently substituting coconut to similar results). They cannot get enough of getting me totally riled up in advance of eating salad. The usual provocations; crumb sticking (per above), salad leaf hopping (off my fork in unbelievable trajectories), flicking food across the counter, dumping food on the floor, and so it goes. Keeping a clean house is a total setup for continued and insane abuse.

My mother is arriving immenently for a First Feral Family get together, and I will be busy doing some driving for her on Monday. Then I get to see the doctor in the afternoon, he inserting this consult for reasons that have not been made apparent to me. The planted notion, nearly always wrong, it that this here blog has something he found offensive, which would be evidence of the first time he has read it, despite his general claims that date back to mid-2008.