1940h
A round of jerkarounds more like; setting me up all day with planted notions to make quesadillas for dinner to then use the leftovers to then supply my lunch for daffodil picking in the farm fields, re-starting tomorrow, with a 0730h start time. My daffodil picking specific items have been lying about this apartment for almost three weeks, and so it would seem that the perps want this collection of elastic bands, gloves, a knife, and clips to lie about for that duration before I take them in the field. Presumably there is something these items would of gained while being here for this extended break in the farm work. First there was making me get the flu for a week, then it got cold, then the Mexican (legal) farmworkers came, then the snow came, and a week later it is starting to warm up. Soo... early to bed, for a 0650h departure on the farm/yellow school bus and likely getting back around 0600h. Hopefully I can make some decent coin, though the perps keep me in the finger fumbling zone, limiting my daily production to be middling, 300 to 400 bunches, piece rate of $0.20/bunch, meaning 60 to 80/day. How the Oracle DBMS software analyst has had his spots changed for him, due to the insane agenda and all it has to do with pruning plants, cutting them (e.g. daffodils), harvesting them and the like. And to be gangstalked all the time.
Getting back to the jerkaround; I "find out" (read, deleted memory) that I don't have any chicken in the fridge for aforementioned quesadilla, because I have been eating smoked salmon for the past few days as I am getting through this food item that was given to me. So.. for over fout days I wasn't allowed to recall this, and here I am in mid-melt of the coconut oil in the frypan when I "discover" that no essential ingredient, the cooked chicken. I had just opened a new jar of coconut oil, and they had me eat a teaspoon of it directly as it taste OK and might even be good for me, and the spoonful was melting in the frypan, and I had to turn the stove off and abandon it to go to the llocal supermarket. And lo, what a mighty gangstalking it was too. At 1730h there were hordes of gangstalkers on the street, four wide even, and the usual dude clusters, redcoats, brownheads and the like. Then in the store they were all over me, and I made sure to get the hell out as fast as I could, but that wasn't to be. I had the bump-into-me asshole collide behind me, who then got into a psychotic babbling rant, and then the cashier fucked off to protract this infernal agony, and so five minutes of this insane act going on behind while been kept in the checkout. I was already pissed off before I left over the mind-fuck recall deletion stunt, and to be then set up by this fucking idiot at the checkout was over the top. But for some reason, har, har, I was allowed to remain calm and not go totally beserk screaming infuriated, and eventually get the fuck out of the store, all to have my gangstalker cluster fuck at the doorway.
Anyhow, other busyness today was to get all my CD's ripped, effectively finishing the project, all 4800 songs from my own CD's, none of files "borrowed" over the web. It seems the perps want to keep me at least six years behind on this one, and join the "tagging" fray and the boundless metadat anarchy out in MP3 land. I took the CD's to the storage locker in the basement, and lo, if there wasn't four that had to come back up as they had deleted them off the hard drive. I had my dude-force of two in the elevator going down, the half-wit fedora act being a regular one, and an Asian male tailing on the way up, and he repeated on the second trip going down, entering what I call the "common room" on this floor, where they rotate tenants within weeks or else have it as a common room for the gangstalkers on the floor.
Hauling brown boxes around always draws perp attention, as they seem to have it for cardboard to be a brown color reference, even if devoid of contents, just having the empty box about, or even having me transit through the location where it was placed, taking all boxes downstairs to the lockup as well.
A long way of saying that the next few weeks of prime daffodil picking will be keeping me busy, likely 14 hour days by the time I have had dinner. The perps have ensured that I am broke, so I must take on this job and with all the work break machinations they have arranged, it is going to be a big gangstalking scene all this week and next. And I would also venture to say that the perps seem more hyper and more aggressive these past few months, as well as pulling blatant stunts like above mentioned checkout harassor.
2150h
Yesterday's stunt was also over the top; they purposely had this dude walk past all the availible seats in the rear deck area of the bus and he sits in the closest tranverse seat immediately in front of me, avoiding my gaze as to if this Fuckwit was playing with a full deck. Then to make it more obvious, he turns sideways as best as he can with his back facing me. Like WTF; I have never seen something so obvious as this. With a mib over-sized Middle East dude in red two seats away on my L. they went out of their way to hem me in. I was pissed off enough that I was thinking of getting off the bus to avoid this BS when someone rang the bell for me, in effect, as they never got off, but I did. Said large red dude moves over to sit in my former seat, it still warm, and when I look as the guy he is ready with the stare back. An hour walk along a busy traffic corridor before I got back to downtown. And a mighty dude force in the supermarket when I stopped there before I got back. What is with these large flushes of dudes in this town. I could see if it this were near a convention center, but we are no where near one.
Time to call this a wrap as I will be getting up early tomorrow and won't be the regular blogger of having no end of time on my hands.
Showing posts with label city bus trip. Show all posts
Showing posts with label city bus trip. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 08, 2011
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Helicopter Days
1720h
Here is an interesting link, Gang Stalk Denial Syndrome. Even my doctor says I am being persecuted, so I am in alignment with his clinical determination.
1945h 10-30-2009
A semi-eventful day today; the 2010 Winter Olympics torch run was in town, and when looking the intinerary in the newspaper it looked like I would be avoiding all the worst of the nonsense, as it would be travelling in the opposite direction to me. But lo, if the head honcho at the farm didn't give us some off-work time to have us farm workers go out and see the event as it would be stopping nearby. We all piled in the bus and went there, likely for a major gangstalking show. The PA system didn't have enough power so I could barely hear the proceedings, and the RCMP helicopter was circling overhead the entire time, to give us more speech drowning-out time. A farce as far as I was concerned, but a break from cabbage picking all day. Later I did weeding in the greenhouse, much more amenable as laboring work goes. At the Olympic torch presentation there had to been at least 20 police out doing their back-and-forths, not to mention planting themselves in my line of vision when the stage was occupied. A roving cameraman was also on obstruction duty when the torch bearer came by. The torch bearers were dressed in white, with same-white tight hoodies, and looked decidedly clinical, research clinical even.
While picking cabbages in the open fields this morning there was plenty of helicopter action, at least a dozen fly-pasts, and they were doing some tricky piloting in the stiff breeze that was scripted for today. Said breeze was used as an excuse to blow the empty cabbage boxes off the truck, and have me retrieving them from a ditch in the lee of the breeze. Yet another delay in getting going with the job; there has been a number of "forgets" (weigh scale, wrong cabbage type boxes, etc.) of late to cause someone to go back or else delay our departure. Later, two boxes "showed up" in the upwind direction, and when I asked the foreman how on earth they could of got there, he just grinned.
Another traffic accident, though not a convincing one, on the S. bound lane of Hwy 17 held up the bus for 20 minutes when homebound, and I couldn't help noticing there was at least eight vehicles parked on the side of the highway similar to the putative accident site. All the flashing lights were there, police and ambulances, and one mushed in red colored vehicle at the side of the road, but I wasn't really convinced there was an accident for sure, and not a delivered wreck to simulate an one. I have been past countless vehicle accidents since the harassment bullshit started in 04-2002, and mostly the site lacks any convincing evidence of an impact. I have made this observation known to my few vehicle passengers at the time, and they all went quiet.
The delay of the city bus from the above putative accident was also augmented by the assholes shutting it down afterward in mid-route for some strange reason. I couldn't believe it; they were doing a driver switchover at the usual location, and then "decided" to take the bus to the maintenance depot instead. I walked the extra ten minutes, and lo, if the vehicular traffic wasn't ready for me; high speed road traffic and they were massed as if the commute was on, when it was the wrong direction at the wrong time. I reckon the perps must of put on at least 5,000 vehicles today to aid their gangstalking madness.
Once I got back to my place, they kept the helicopter noise on overhead, heard through the windows and walls, and during my dinner making, eating and doing the dishes. It was still on an hour later for my laundry doings, a regular work day feature now. And through all of this, the assholes started up their provocations to keep me ranting and rage-ified by my "reactions" (read, mind-fuck script). They like to nail me when I get back and through my apartment door, and kept it up with simulated touches, fingertip jabbing, fingertip burning sensations from nothing hot, crumbs that aren't allowed to be picked up but can mysteriously hop from my fingers, spillings, food flicking, olive oil flicking, planting of dog hair on my countertop, and hammering my speech with impediments while screaming at the assholes for another provocative incursion. Lets see, "only" 40 rage-ifications while the helicopter was circling outside for whatever reason. I had even two concurrent (accompanying IMHO) helicopters for my extended walk back from the above mentioned city bus service truncation. And more often, the perps like to rage-ify me while I am bent over, often dealing with undone shoelaces, yellow and brown leaf arrivals on the floor from nowhere (teleportations are ubiquitous and frequent) and other introduced crud on the floor.
And one must not forget the pee games that are increasing of late. Yesterday they fucked me out of getting off the bus at the correct stop, and forced an extra 20 minutes walking time, and pulled the "need to pee" jerkaround, forcing me to piss behind some bushes while on my knees to hide that was only 80' from the bus stop I later waited at in the afternoon. Yesterday's morningtime oubound bus commute was extremely dark for some reason, and I also got screwed over by taking short naps on the ride, and then was fucked into panicking, "thinking" that I had missed my stop when I was well short of it.
Today's post outbound bus trip was also fraught with the "need to pee" for the last five minutes, and I was truly glad for getting off at the usual bus stop, and having porta-potty construction site outhouse to piss into within 30' of the bus stop. The construction crew hadn't arrived then, so I could get my post-N. bound bus trip forced pee over with and not have to resort to more public exposures. They made me pee four times before noon, when I can go all day without having to piss, some six hours.
2255h
I am still not done with adverse circumstances; the toilet was good for at least five plungings before it would clear, and then a whower to clean up. Of late, the assholes haven't been screwing me over when taking a shit, but suddenly decided to enrage me all the more by way of toilet fuckery games. No overflows today, thank goodness. The toilet and shit games immediately followed having tea and chocolate, a double 2x100g portion no less, and likely was all about brown color exposures and related color games they indulge in. Call it tactical shit games, or perhaps "browning around". And you read that correctly; I have no choice but am compelled by this mind-fuck insanity to eat twice the "usual" (read, imposed habits) chocolate. I don't think there is any other "habit" that imposed more than the chocolate games, costing me over $200/month. Yet again, another expensive and unaffordable "habit", all to serve the asshole's consuming interest in the color brown.
And lets not forget that all the field cabbage picking on the farm this week; dark brown waxed cardboard boxes to contain 50lb of green or red cabbages, packed by me for the most part. All that green inside of a brown container just might be yet more of the perp color games that goes on ad nauseum, and into the throes of their collective insanity.
Thats a wrap for tonight, onto some leaf raking at my in-town brother's place to scrounge up more cash for the upcoming PC upgrade, scheduled for next week, keeping me from blogging from Nov. 03 to Nov. 08. This is the much planned PC upgrade where I invest in the Intel X58 architecture, and pass on most of the old components onto my mother in a new case. This should be of intense interest to the perps, as they seem so focussed on the color of all objects and what influences that brings to their energetic studies they impose on me, and get plenty of family quisling support.
Here is an interesting link, Gang Stalk Denial Syndrome. Even my doctor says I am being persecuted, so I am in alignment with his clinical determination.
1945h 10-30-2009
A semi-eventful day today; the 2010 Winter Olympics torch run was in town, and when looking the intinerary in the newspaper it looked like I would be avoiding all the worst of the nonsense, as it would be travelling in the opposite direction to me. But lo, if the head honcho at the farm didn't give us some off-work time to have us farm workers go out and see the event as it would be stopping nearby. We all piled in the bus and went there, likely for a major gangstalking show. The PA system didn't have enough power so I could barely hear the proceedings, and the RCMP helicopter was circling overhead the entire time, to give us more speech drowning-out time. A farce as far as I was concerned, but a break from cabbage picking all day. Later I did weeding in the greenhouse, much more amenable as laboring work goes. At the Olympic torch presentation there had to been at least 20 police out doing their back-and-forths, not to mention planting themselves in my line of vision when the stage was occupied. A roving cameraman was also on obstruction duty when the torch bearer came by. The torch bearers were dressed in white, with same-white tight hoodies, and looked decidedly clinical, research clinical even.
While picking cabbages in the open fields this morning there was plenty of helicopter action, at least a dozen fly-pasts, and they were doing some tricky piloting in the stiff breeze that was scripted for today. Said breeze was used as an excuse to blow the empty cabbage boxes off the truck, and have me retrieving them from a ditch in the lee of the breeze. Yet another delay in getting going with the job; there has been a number of "forgets" (weigh scale, wrong cabbage type boxes, etc.) of late to cause someone to go back or else delay our departure. Later, two boxes "showed up" in the upwind direction, and when I asked the foreman how on earth they could of got there, he just grinned.
Another traffic accident, though not a convincing one, on the S. bound lane of Hwy 17 held up the bus for 20 minutes when homebound, and I couldn't help noticing there was at least eight vehicles parked on the side of the highway similar to the putative accident site. All the flashing lights were there, police and ambulances, and one mushed in red colored vehicle at the side of the road, but I wasn't really convinced there was an accident for sure, and not a delivered wreck to simulate an one. I have been past countless vehicle accidents since the harassment bullshit started in 04-2002, and mostly the site lacks any convincing evidence of an impact. I have made this observation known to my few vehicle passengers at the time, and they all went quiet.
The delay of the city bus from the above putative accident was also augmented by the assholes shutting it down afterward in mid-route for some strange reason. I couldn't believe it; they were doing a driver switchover at the usual location, and then "decided" to take the bus to the maintenance depot instead. I walked the extra ten minutes, and lo, if the vehicular traffic wasn't ready for me; high speed road traffic and they were massed as if the commute was on, when it was the wrong direction at the wrong time. I reckon the perps must of put on at least 5,000 vehicles today to aid their gangstalking madness.
Once I got back to my place, they kept the helicopter noise on overhead, heard through the windows and walls, and during my dinner making, eating and doing the dishes. It was still on an hour later for my laundry doings, a regular work day feature now. And through all of this, the assholes started up their provocations to keep me ranting and rage-ified by my "reactions" (read, mind-fuck script). They like to nail me when I get back and through my apartment door, and kept it up with simulated touches, fingertip jabbing, fingertip burning sensations from nothing hot, crumbs that aren't allowed to be picked up but can mysteriously hop from my fingers, spillings, food flicking, olive oil flicking, planting of dog hair on my countertop, and hammering my speech with impediments while screaming at the assholes for another provocative incursion. Lets see, "only" 40 rage-ifications while the helicopter was circling outside for whatever reason. I had even two concurrent (accompanying IMHO) helicopters for my extended walk back from the above mentioned city bus service truncation. And more often, the perps like to rage-ify me while I am bent over, often dealing with undone shoelaces, yellow and brown leaf arrivals on the floor from nowhere (teleportations are ubiquitous and frequent) and other introduced crud on the floor.
And one must not forget the pee games that are increasing of late. Yesterday they fucked me out of getting off the bus at the correct stop, and forced an extra 20 minutes walking time, and pulled the "need to pee" jerkaround, forcing me to piss behind some bushes while on my knees to hide that was only 80' from the bus stop I later waited at in the afternoon. Yesterday's morningtime oubound bus commute was extremely dark for some reason, and I also got screwed over by taking short naps on the ride, and then was fucked into panicking, "thinking" that I had missed my stop when I was well short of it.
Today's post outbound bus trip was also fraught with the "need to pee" for the last five minutes, and I was truly glad for getting off at the usual bus stop, and having porta-potty construction site outhouse to piss into within 30' of the bus stop. The construction crew hadn't arrived then, so I could get my post-N. bound bus trip forced pee over with and not have to resort to more public exposures. They made me pee four times before noon, when I can go all day without having to piss, some six hours.
2255h
I am still not done with adverse circumstances; the toilet was good for at least five plungings before it would clear, and then a whower to clean up. Of late, the assholes haven't been screwing me over when taking a shit, but suddenly decided to enrage me all the more by way of toilet fuckery games. No overflows today, thank goodness. The toilet and shit games immediately followed having tea and chocolate, a double 2x100g portion no less, and likely was all about brown color exposures and related color games they indulge in. Call it tactical shit games, or perhaps "browning around". And you read that correctly; I have no choice but am compelled by this mind-fuck insanity to eat twice the "usual" (read, imposed habits) chocolate. I don't think there is any other "habit" that imposed more than the chocolate games, costing me over $200/month. Yet again, another expensive and unaffordable "habit", all to serve the asshole's consuming interest in the color brown.
And lets not forget that all the field cabbage picking on the farm this week; dark brown waxed cardboard boxes to contain 50lb of green or red cabbages, packed by me for the most part. All that green inside of a brown container just might be yet more of the perp color games that goes on ad nauseum, and into the throes of their collective insanity.
Thats a wrap for tonight, onto some leaf raking at my in-town brother's place to scrounge up more cash for the upcoming PC upgrade, scheduled for next week, keeping me from blogging from Nov. 03 to Nov. 08. This is the much planned PC upgrade where I invest in the Intel X58 architecture, and pass on most of the old components onto my mother in a new case. This should be of intense interest to the perps, as they seem so focussed on the color of all objects and what influences that brings to their energetic studies they impose on me, and get plenty of family quisling support.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Grining Elevator Greeter
2055h
What was so amusing for the Fuckwit that was about to pile into the elevator before I got out at 0655h this morning. Instead, he pointed me to the direction to get out past him, this grining figure of 6'4" (5" taller than me), and in a red shirt with a coffee cup in hand. My reaction, likely governed, was to stare at him like he was fucked out of his head, and I took off to leave this scene behind. It was the first time I have seen him, and I can only assume he was a Fuckwit entering the building at that hour when there is hardly anyone about.
Then onto the downtown trot to the bus stop where my daughter's former grade two Montessori Phillipino school teacher "happened" to arrive, placing a black and white checkerboarded bag next to me. I was glad to see her go, and she must of recognized me but didn't say anything. Another shill on the sick list.
Reading a newspaper became too much of a hassle on the bus, so I had to drop that habit after one day's attempt. The light filtering through the trees and buildings is rendered to be chopped and strobe like, not to mention the bus' lurching and swaying. End of that idea, and I suspect it wasn't mine in the first place.
I was on retail boxing at work (inside) until 1430h, then weeding, then outside for pumpkin picking and then back to weeding. I couldn't but help notice the perps kept on passing people or objects (vehicle mostly) in front of the sun to created momentary shade conditions, and then have me back in the sunlight again. The on and off sunlight games are of increasing importance it seems, and the perps continue to script good weather at this time of year. I don't particularly give a shit as to what their sunlit interests are, but what pisses me off is this constant strobe-like action, ensuring that dappled shade turns into a horrific stroboscopic nightmare.
This is going to be a brief posting as I need to get more sleep before waking up. No strange coincidences with the alarm this morning, unlike yesterday. The meat aerial games are still playing for whatever reasons the perps have.
Other wierd stuff was dogging me at the LD store with gangstalkers, and one woman in a purple sweater was leading me to the very aisle I was headed, and then we crossed paths again when she stopped, and again when I backtracked once she had moved on from the very item location I was planning to go. And just as I stepped back, why, she was directly behind me and I gently nudged into her, and she touched me on both shoulders in a steadying fashion. How she noiselessly got behind me to create this mild collision scenario I have no idea.
My bus riding pals that were around me all got off at the same bus stop as me, being a phalanx of Fuckwits to accompany me 60' to the crosswalk and then across the street. By then the fishing rod toting Fuckwit was also on me, holding his fishing rod horizonally 3' behind me when it was plain fucking stupid for all the people on the street. This is the third gangstalker fishing rod episode in a week, and it is getting tiresome.
That is all the news for today, much abbreviated to be sure, and only mentioning that the navy was out again to be seen patrolling with strange maser and plasmic emanations coming toward me with unerring repitition. It is the same for most aircraft, though the military ones seem to be even more maser prone than commercial ones.
Enough blathering and I am off to bed.
What was so amusing for the Fuckwit that was about to pile into the elevator before I got out at 0655h this morning. Instead, he pointed me to the direction to get out past him, this grining figure of 6'4" (5" taller than me), and in a red shirt with a coffee cup in hand. My reaction, likely governed, was to stare at him like he was fucked out of his head, and I took off to leave this scene behind. It was the first time I have seen him, and I can only assume he was a Fuckwit entering the building at that hour when there is hardly anyone about.
Then onto the downtown trot to the bus stop where my daughter's former grade two Montessori Phillipino school teacher "happened" to arrive, placing a black and white checkerboarded bag next to me. I was glad to see her go, and she must of recognized me but didn't say anything. Another shill on the sick list.
Reading a newspaper became too much of a hassle on the bus, so I had to drop that habit after one day's attempt. The light filtering through the trees and buildings is rendered to be chopped and strobe like, not to mention the bus' lurching and swaying. End of that idea, and I suspect it wasn't mine in the first place.
I was on retail boxing at work (inside) until 1430h, then weeding, then outside for pumpkin picking and then back to weeding. I couldn't but help notice the perps kept on passing people or objects (vehicle mostly) in front of the sun to created momentary shade conditions, and then have me back in the sunlight again. The on and off sunlight games are of increasing importance it seems, and the perps continue to script good weather at this time of year. I don't particularly give a shit as to what their sunlit interests are, but what pisses me off is this constant strobe-like action, ensuring that dappled shade turns into a horrific stroboscopic nightmare.
This is going to be a brief posting as I need to get more sleep before waking up. No strange coincidences with the alarm this morning, unlike yesterday. The meat aerial games are still playing for whatever reasons the perps have.
Other wierd stuff was dogging me at the LD store with gangstalkers, and one woman in a purple sweater was leading me to the very aisle I was headed, and then we crossed paths again when she stopped, and again when I backtracked once she had moved on from the very item location I was planning to go. And just as I stepped back, why, she was directly behind me and I gently nudged into her, and she touched me on both shoulders in a steadying fashion. How she noiselessly got behind me to create this mild collision scenario I have no idea.
My bus riding pals that were around me all got off at the same bus stop as me, being a phalanx of Fuckwits to accompany me 60' to the crosswalk and then across the street. By then the fishing rod toting Fuckwit was also on me, holding his fishing rod horizonally 3' behind me when it was plain fucking stupid for all the people on the street. This is the third gangstalker fishing rod episode in a week, and it is getting tiresome.
That is all the news for today, much abbreviated to be sure, and only mentioning that the navy was out again to be seen patrolling with strange maser and plasmic emanations coming toward me with unerring repitition. It is the same for most aircraft, though the military ones seem to be even more maser prone than commercial ones.
Enough blathering and I am off to bed.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Digging Duties
2045h
The perps love me to be digging soil, and so it was duly arranged for 1.5 cubic yards to be dumped at my parent's place and for me to shovel it into the yellow wheelbarrow and into the 4'x8' raised box I built two weeks ago, only partially filled with soil from the property. And as well, they have governed me down to feel a little tired and ragged which I know is bullshit as I did this very activity once before this year at my in-town brother's place. And they even arranged for my mother to drive over one corner of the soil pile when exiting the house and taking my father off to his rest home.
On my end, the timing and preparation for me to head to my parent's by city bus was the usual fraught and gangstalked jerkaround. I was to get the 1006h bus but the perps caused me to have a shit just before that got messy and needed plunging and a shower to clean up. So.. 1030h then, and of course they were out in droves, and a five Fuckwits at the bus stop, none of whom looked like they really were authentic. I was gangstalked at the bus stop where they spread the Fuckwits out at each end and all three of the dudes were smoking. The bus was five minutes late again, which equals more gangstalking time than I planned on. The Brown Anorak dude was to the W. of me sucking on his cigarette and then flicked the spent butt onto the street. A minute later he needs a candy and exhibited his sudden wave of fastidiousness by putting the wrapper in the trash can, near me of course. A few minutes later he cruises in to view the bus schedule posted on a pole, and the instant I stepped back from this blatant incursion into my social distance a noise went off. Here the fucker is, waiting for a specific bus to catch and needs to look at the schedule? This act was only one step removed from the Fuckwits who come to look at the posted schedule and then wander off. Anyhow, with my Fuckwits ahead and behind me and lo, if the Brown Anorak isn't two seats away, and facing me in the rear facing seat I was coralled into. Not only did the anorak color suck, but this baby faced male with white-grey curly hair made sure I looked out the window for the entire trip. Other Fuckwit gangstalkers at the bus stop were all around me, and this pattern repeated itself on the way back. And with the same seating orientation, facing back to look at a fugly Unfavored unless I looked out the window, which is what I did again.
The worst of today's activities was getting jerked around in the sudden rainstorm that got pulled on me. I had been barrowing soil for some 20 minutes with my mother's vest on when a downpour started that required rain gear. And with the dayglo orange rain gear still at my parent's place I thought I was ready for the elements. But no, the hood kept slipping down in front of my vision, and finally I did without it, and that then opened up my glasses to be splattered with rain and thereby serve as cover story for more vision fucking games. The rain went on for 30 minutes or so, and let up finally. In the process I also changed gloves as the yellow leather ones were getting wet, and I have a pair of synthetic material blue colored ones. I also did some weed whacking and was using the goggles and that made for more yet vision fogging games. The next three hours was spent in the wind and it finally abated to have some calm and sunny weather, about the time my mother came back around 1400h. It was all rather odd that she came back so late, and was gone for some four hours, even if it was a one time event of delivering the dementia patient to his first full time care facility. Which begs the question as to why the perps need me to be dressed up in dayglo clothing for a portion of the day, and then having it outside to dry. As always, there was plenty of aircraft, neighbor lawnmower, and passing vehicle noise, all amped up for today's soil lugging activity.
Other bullshit action at my parent's place was applied to get me to vocalize with the same long standing vocabulary ther by myself. Faux causal extra-conventional gravitic jerkarounds were: whacking my hand as if it contacted the gatepost as I went by when it was 6" away, jabbing me in the nuts as I turned a corner with the soil laden wheelbarrow, dumping soil onto places I hadn't placed it, having me trip on my own feet, having me "forget" to get a needed item and requiring extra retracing of my steps, pulling the extension cord out of the weed whacker while it was operating, tangling my feet up with the extension cord, and a few others that don't come to mind. All for me to recite the long running tired rants at the assholes under my breath or even louder on occasion.
And before that, they also cranked me up at breakfast time with more jerkarounds and extra noise; the peanut butter just "falling" off the knife trick again, flicking coffee grounds on the stove top, having coffee gurgle out from the Bodum coffee maker that was gently pressed, crumb inundation games, and a few others.
I did the part time cleaning job at the car dealership tonight; as it was a provincial election day here, so they closed up early. But that didn't stop three of the seeming Sales dudes from hanging around me when firing up the vacuum cleaner, and then some of them going outside as the door was wide open. This is the first night I have been directed to do the vacuum cleaning on the main Sales floor before they have closed. Normally I do the upstairs Admin section before as the staff have all gone home, which makes more sense. I had finished the Sales area vacuuming and went upstairs and had laid out the vacuum cleaner extension cord in the hallway and had not yet started it when a blonde woman exited the Admin offices and turns around and gives me this stare for no reason. This is at least the third time I have encountered her in the hallway or front entrance and she does the same thing; this cool icy look for no reason. I suppose she is assigned Unfavored behavior (staring, antisocial) as a Favored (attractive blonde woman) demographic group member. Such is the scripted bullshit show.
2220h
I am getting the reduced font fucking games now; when I come back to a browser tab such as this, the font is slightly reduced, and then they put it back, usually ensuring that I "don't notice", read, mind-fuck jerkaround. And something the perps reminded me of to blog about was today's gratuitious jerkaround du jour. Before leaving this morning, I figured that I would be taking the city bus back later in the afternoon and took two quarters with me as bus fare is $2.25 each way, and I had plenty of $1 and $2 coins. So..., when I looked in my pocket later at the homebound bus stop, why no quarters. I had to pay $3 for the fucking bus fare because some asshole decided to jerk me around for an extra 75 cents plus the missing 25 cents.
Which is similar to yesterday's gratuitous jerkaround; my tool box of drill bits and a quality 1/2" drill has been stored at my parent's place for the past five years, as I can get by with my portable one I have at this apartment, the little that I need one. Last year when building the raised gardening box at my parent's place I "forgot" that my drill was in the crawlspace and borrowed my in-town brother's drill, a red bodied one. It was even better than mine and so I asked if I could re-borrow it again and he was cool with that. At some point in preparing to build the raised garden box three weeks ago I "happened" to be in the crawlspace and looked in the drill box and lifted the to tray and saw my drill, and left it there untouched as my in-town brother's was at hand and better at slow drilling larger diameter holes in the landscaping ties for the 6" spikes. No big deal. Yesterday, I was about to reassemble the steel closet shelving and needed to drill extra holes to mount a new stanchion (vertical bracket) that my mother insisted was needed as the shelves sagged. I get my drill box up from the crawlspace, and had planned the job around using it, and open the box up and no drill. Gone, and the assholes made sure I knew it was there some three weeks ago. I ended up telling my mother about it who put on a big deal over how it could of gone missing and perhaps the painters stole it. I doubted that they did as it was in such an obscure location that they would of not encountered. All the while this tale seemed vaguely familiar but I was not allowed to recall why. After 30 minutes of fussing over it, as in the "women doth protest too much", my mother finally gave up yacking about it and going through various possible scenarios. So it would seem that the entire exercise, apart from jerking me around and have me drill 1/2" holes in plaster by hand, needing leather gloves to handle the sharp drill bit edges, was to have my mother go on about this fuckover stunt.
Later in the day when back at my place I was allowed access to my recall of a similar stunt: I had left a car stereo amplifier at my parent's place, and when it came time to install it ready to give the vehicle to my daughter, the amplifier was gone. And too, there had been some tradesmen in the house a week before, but again, it was unlikely that they would of taken it as it was under a pile of other junk that obscured it. Again, my mother was in on discussing how the amplifier could of gone missing. (She had even seen it there). Some two years later, the amplifier "showed up" when unpacking some boxes when moving into this place, a year after the amplifier went missing. And yet the boxes the amplifier "arrived in" were packed over three years earlier, and left untouched. So..., the gratuitious jerkaround game of stealing known items seems to be all about creating angst and hashing over as to how something went missing, and then resupplying the item at a later date in the guise of "moving", a much storied event/circumstance where other items have either gone missing or arrived. And I have no idea as to why the assholes put on this game and why they go to such lengths to plan this out years in advance, by way of having the stored item "disappear" from my parent's place and not mine. Go figure, and if you concur that the perps are fucking insane at least sometimes, then you must be an authentic TI.
That should cover today, and hopefully I won't have any more bizarre planted dreams like last night; a school of fish on dry land acted in unison as if they were in water. Again, I never had such bullshit dreams until the perps declared themselves to be overt abusers and sickos in 04-2002.
The perps love me to be digging soil, and so it was duly arranged for 1.5 cubic yards to be dumped at my parent's place and for me to shovel it into the yellow wheelbarrow and into the 4'x8' raised box I built two weeks ago, only partially filled with soil from the property. And as well, they have governed me down to feel a little tired and ragged which I know is bullshit as I did this very activity once before this year at my in-town brother's place. And they even arranged for my mother to drive over one corner of the soil pile when exiting the house and taking my father off to his rest home.
On my end, the timing and preparation for me to head to my parent's by city bus was the usual fraught and gangstalked jerkaround. I was to get the 1006h bus but the perps caused me to have a shit just before that got messy and needed plunging and a shower to clean up. So.. 1030h then, and of course they were out in droves, and a five Fuckwits at the bus stop, none of whom looked like they really were authentic. I was gangstalked at the bus stop where they spread the Fuckwits out at each end and all three of the dudes were smoking. The bus was five minutes late again, which equals more gangstalking time than I planned on. The Brown Anorak dude was to the W. of me sucking on his cigarette and then flicked the spent butt onto the street. A minute later he needs a candy and exhibited his sudden wave of fastidiousness by putting the wrapper in the trash can, near me of course. A few minutes later he cruises in to view the bus schedule posted on a pole, and the instant I stepped back from this blatant incursion into my social distance a noise went off. Here the fucker is, waiting for a specific bus to catch and needs to look at the schedule? This act was only one step removed from the Fuckwits who come to look at the posted schedule and then wander off. Anyhow, with my Fuckwits ahead and behind me and lo, if the Brown Anorak isn't two seats away, and facing me in the rear facing seat I was coralled into. Not only did the anorak color suck, but this baby faced male with white-grey curly hair made sure I looked out the window for the entire trip. Other Fuckwit gangstalkers at the bus stop were all around me, and this pattern repeated itself on the way back. And with the same seating orientation, facing back to look at a fugly Unfavored unless I looked out the window, which is what I did again.
The worst of today's activities was getting jerked around in the sudden rainstorm that got pulled on me. I had been barrowing soil for some 20 minutes with my mother's vest on when a downpour started that required rain gear. And with the dayglo orange rain gear still at my parent's place I thought I was ready for the elements. But no, the hood kept slipping down in front of my vision, and finally I did without it, and that then opened up my glasses to be splattered with rain and thereby serve as cover story for more vision fucking games. The rain went on for 30 minutes or so, and let up finally. In the process I also changed gloves as the yellow leather ones were getting wet, and I have a pair of synthetic material blue colored ones. I also did some weed whacking and was using the goggles and that made for more yet vision fogging games. The next three hours was spent in the wind and it finally abated to have some calm and sunny weather, about the time my mother came back around 1400h. It was all rather odd that she came back so late, and was gone for some four hours, even if it was a one time event of delivering the dementia patient to his first full time care facility. Which begs the question as to why the perps need me to be dressed up in dayglo clothing for a portion of the day, and then having it outside to dry. As always, there was plenty of aircraft, neighbor lawnmower, and passing vehicle noise, all amped up for today's soil lugging activity.
Other bullshit action at my parent's place was applied to get me to vocalize with the same long standing vocabulary ther by myself. Faux causal extra-conventional gravitic jerkarounds were: whacking my hand as if it contacted the gatepost as I went by when it was 6" away, jabbing me in the nuts as I turned a corner with the soil laden wheelbarrow, dumping soil onto places I hadn't placed it, having me trip on my own feet, having me "forget" to get a needed item and requiring extra retracing of my steps, pulling the extension cord out of the weed whacker while it was operating, tangling my feet up with the extension cord, and a few others that don't come to mind. All for me to recite the long running tired rants at the assholes under my breath or even louder on occasion.
And before that, they also cranked me up at breakfast time with more jerkarounds and extra noise; the peanut butter just "falling" off the knife trick again, flicking coffee grounds on the stove top, having coffee gurgle out from the Bodum coffee maker that was gently pressed, crumb inundation games, and a few others.
I did the part time cleaning job at the car dealership tonight; as it was a provincial election day here, so they closed up early. But that didn't stop three of the seeming Sales dudes from hanging around me when firing up the vacuum cleaner, and then some of them going outside as the door was wide open. This is the first night I have been directed to do the vacuum cleaning on the main Sales floor before they have closed. Normally I do the upstairs Admin section before as the staff have all gone home, which makes more sense. I had finished the Sales area vacuuming and went upstairs and had laid out the vacuum cleaner extension cord in the hallway and had not yet started it when a blonde woman exited the Admin offices and turns around and gives me this stare for no reason. This is at least the third time I have encountered her in the hallway or front entrance and she does the same thing; this cool icy look for no reason. I suppose she is assigned Unfavored behavior (staring, antisocial) as a Favored (attractive blonde woman) demographic group member. Such is the scripted bullshit show.
2220h
I am getting the reduced font fucking games now; when I come back to a browser tab such as this, the font is slightly reduced, and then they put it back, usually ensuring that I "don't notice", read, mind-fuck jerkaround. And something the perps reminded me of to blog about was today's gratuitious jerkaround du jour. Before leaving this morning, I figured that I would be taking the city bus back later in the afternoon and took two quarters with me as bus fare is $2.25 each way, and I had plenty of $1 and $2 coins. So..., when I looked in my pocket later at the homebound bus stop, why no quarters. I had to pay $3 for the fucking bus fare because some asshole decided to jerk me around for an extra 75 cents plus the missing 25 cents.
Which is similar to yesterday's gratuitous jerkaround; my tool box of drill bits and a quality 1/2" drill has been stored at my parent's place for the past five years, as I can get by with my portable one I have at this apartment, the little that I need one. Last year when building the raised gardening box at my parent's place I "forgot" that my drill was in the crawlspace and borrowed my in-town brother's drill, a red bodied one. It was even better than mine and so I asked if I could re-borrow it again and he was cool with that. At some point in preparing to build the raised garden box three weeks ago I "happened" to be in the crawlspace and looked in the drill box and lifted the to tray and saw my drill, and left it there untouched as my in-town brother's was at hand and better at slow drilling larger diameter holes in the landscaping ties for the 6" spikes. No big deal. Yesterday, I was about to reassemble the steel closet shelving and needed to drill extra holes to mount a new stanchion (vertical bracket) that my mother insisted was needed as the shelves sagged. I get my drill box up from the crawlspace, and had planned the job around using it, and open the box up and no drill. Gone, and the assholes made sure I knew it was there some three weeks ago. I ended up telling my mother about it who put on a big deal over how it could of gone missing and perhaps the painters stole it. I doubted that they did as it was in such an obscure location that they would of not encountered. All the while this tale seemed vaguely familiar but I was not allowed to recall why. After 30 minutes of fussing over it, as in the "women doth protest too much", my mother finally gave up yacking about it and going through various possible scenarios. So it would seem that the entire exercise, apart from jerking me around and have me drill 1/2" holes in plaster by hand, needing leather gloves to handle the sharp drill bit edges, was to have my mother go on about this fuckover stunt.
Later in the day when back at my place I was allowed access to my recall of a similar stunt: I had left a car stereo amplifier at my parent's place, and when it came time to install it ready to give the vehicle to my daughter, the amplifier was gone. And too, there had been some tradesmen in the house a week before, but again, it was unlikely that they would of taken it as it was under a pile of other junk that obscured it. Again, my mother was in on discussing how the amplifier could of gone missing. (She had even seen it there). Some two years later, the amplifier "showed up" when unpacking some boxes when moving into this place, a year after the amplifier went missing. And yet the boxes the amplifier "arrived in" were packed over three years earlier, and left untouched. So..., the gratuitious jerkaround game of stealing known items seems to be all about creating angst and hashing over as to how something went missing, and then resupplying the item at a later date in the guise of "moving", a much storied event/circumstance where other items have either gone missing or arrived. And I have no idea as to why the assholes put on this game and why they go to such lengths to plan this out years in advance, by way of having the stored item "disappear" from my parent's place and not mine. Go figure, and if you concur that the perps are fucking insane at least sometimes, then you must be an authentic TI.
That should cover today, and hopefully I won't have any more bizarre planted dreams like last night; a school of fish on dry land acted in unison as if they were in water. Again, I never had such bullshit dreams until the perps declared themselves to be overt abusers and sickos in 04-2002.
Monday, September 01, 2008
Endless Motorcycle Noise
1800h
One after the other, and always when I lift my fingers off my ears to avoid hearing it, the Harley Davidson like (2 cycle engine) motorcycle noise continues in a train, as if there was a bikers' convention nearby, and they were departing after the Labor Day weekend. This is about the least biker city there is, and no biker's bar is within five miles at least. And none in the neighborhood. As always, it is a mystery as to why the perps are inundating me with the noise, the vehicular gangstalkings and the demonstrations of parked motorcycles all my waking hours. Yes, I loathe the noise of 2 cycle motorcycles, and especially if they are chopped to make even more noise, and that might be reason enough for the perps to crank on this noise/object theme. Somehow, I think there is more to it, and the 1950's motorcycle act (motorcycle, leathers and helmet of that era) that passes by me each day while waiting for the crew bus might be a tip off that motorcycles have a long-ago trauma association that still resides in my subconscious recollection. All conscious recall of such events has been purged (if they happened at all), creating the "lost years" of age 3 to 5, when I have better recall of being in Montreal aged 2 to 3. I have no idea where I lived or the arrival of my brother during this time frame, or any place that I lived for these years. Now that I sense my recall was fucked with back then, it is getting to piss me off all the more.
I stayed at my parent's place last night, and continued on there to do gardening duties for the morning. It was the first time in at least three weeks that I have stayed there when it was a regular weekly visitation event since 2003. Nothing much has changed; my father puts on the dementia act extra thick, then loiters some 15' away in the doorway, partially obstructed by the doorframe and the intervening wall, as seen from the living room into the dining room. The perps even arranged a desk lamp to be placed in between us to further limit how much of this loathesome asshole I am able to see by looking in his direction. And they even darkened down the dining room where he does this gangstalking walk/posing, presumably to lower the loathing level because I cannot see him distinctly. Fortuneately they didn't have him do this bullshit all evening, as I would of closed the door and that would of created a new dynamic. I also noticed he was doing his behind-the-door-jamb loitering from the other doorway into the living room where I was seated. And the perps also had a side casting table lamp behind him, casting his shadow into the living room and into my peripherial vision before he was directly visible. And when he incrementally advanced to be in my vision, why, a interlaced white colored plasma array erupted for a few seconds to render him into horizontally bandeds segments, even smaller pieces of loathing than the dining room posing mentioned above. These "horizontal banding plasma arrays" are about 2' to 3' high, 1.5' to 2' wide, and are invariably placed immediately in front of the subject that I am viewing. These have been arranged in other circumstances, and it maybe that this method of visual image reductionism is used where the perps have a particular difficulty in sorting out what I see from the entire meaning and emotional valence that I attatch to what is being masked in this bizarre manner. Not my problem; if I loathe all parties that had anything to do with past traumatizations, then why do I have a phalanx of fuckwits engaging in elaborate games to make these assholes only partially visible? And there are plenty of highly abusive events that I am allowed to recall about my father, and he likely represents the most difficult case to remediate, assuming that is what the perps are obsessed about.
Rachael O. of On Gangstalking laid out the emotional terrain for TI's (here) [not sure if I got the best link on this] who have been abused and currently decieved and harassed by family members. And I concurr; all family member quislings that have contributed to, and still continue to engage in this depraved harassment activity are fucking sick minded assholes. That is as blunt as it gets, and needs to be said every so often. And no "family counselling" comments are desired, if the comment section were to be opened up someday.
The Anonymous commenter, aka "tidbunker" has yet to reply to my last email, and I don't know if he is gone for good, or lying in wait to further engage in more spurious dialog. I am giving it some fallow time to see if this is a flurry or an ongoing campaign. Hard to take it seriously with that kind of email handle, something revealed in later correspondence, and to which I am waiting a reply to my question; how can I take this person seriously with an email handle that bluntly discredits his seeming curiousity. Enough on that subject too, as it another tiresome one.
Back to improbable stories. I took the bus to my parent's place yesterday, and for the 1709h #27 bus on a Sunday long weekend, it was nearly full, save the "Asian section" where there was one transverse seat availible. At least 8 were ringed around me and one beside me, along with the usual arm waving and stretching that signifies a perp script in progress. Such actions are universal among the shills and operatives, and are not exclusively those of Asians. A few blonde Caucasian women were seated outside the Asian gangstalker cluster.
Before I caught the bus I was gangstalking bait while waiting at the bus stop, an activity I usually limit as much as possible, but am often suckered into because the bus arrives late. Anyhow, I was watching the gangstalking show pass by, both vvehicular and ambulatory and lo, if one of the farm workers didn't "happen" to walk by, and I asked him why he wasn't there any more. As it "so happened", he and another stranger gangstalking dude, both of longer term experience than us "daffodil bulb people", were fired at the same time because they screwed up the operation of running the $20k sprinkler system one day. One screwed it up and it was deemed that the other was watching and "should of known". I don't put too much stock into these stories as it is often a way to write these folks out of the script, either to greater gifted glory if a shill, or onto another role if a trained operative. We hadn't finished the chat when the bus came, and I explained the predicament to the fellow, and lo, if he doesn't get on the bus after me, but doesn't sit nearby to continue the conversation, as a seat was close. He stands in that routine gangstalker sentry post, at the backdoor, waves to me to acknowledge that I saw him, and then gets off after two stops. Fucking bizarre; he had no need to take the bus as he "happened" to walk by while I was at the bus stop, but follows me onboard and then stands in the sentry location for some 3 minutes, and then gets off. Two bizarrre behaviors from one event. Someone explain that to me in conventional non-gangstalking involvement terms, especially you, "tidbunker".
2130h
An earlier outing to the LD store to get my Rx picked up; another skunk over finding no Neutrogena Deep Clean, though with some more imposters/like products. What exactly the perps get for planting the notion for me to resupply Neutrogena and then skunking me twice in two days is I don't know. Once they changed the plastic tube to be a dull nonglossy plastic once, and then reverted to the normal glossy plastic again, the graphics of the packaging staying identical.
I tossed out the garbage today, taking it down in the elevator as the garbage chute is "broken". And lo, if the perps didn't arrange for the dumpster to be overflowing on this Labor Day, and garbage strewn some 30' away with all manner of spillings, litterings, and other dispersal methods. No need to dumpster dive, just take it from the top, which is where my garbage ended up, also some 3' below the concrete overhanging ceiling of the parking lot. This area is also attracting the homeless (read, operatives doing funky things in the guise of vagrants), and it smelled like a pissoir, more than last time.
I had my on-street gangstalker dude show at the pedestrain intersection traffic light; males arranged in clusters, some appearing as if they don't know each other but are walking nearly side by side. Talk about silly, two dudes pretending the other isn't there as they walk along, one giving me the stare for no reason, and getting closer than is socially accepted in passing by. Then other shiftless males loitered about at each store location I needed to visit, and even a wheelchair act was at the Rx counter, and then managed to reprise themselves again when I exited the store, getting ahead of me and holding up my usual brisk walking pace.
Other wierds of that 15 minute round trip were a very black negro doing some kind of self-chatter as he shambled down the stairs ahead of me ascending, another one (female) in the cosmetic section putting on the stalking, and again another behind the pharmacy counter. That is a high count for this town for such a short trip. As always, skin tone is a vital part of the Unfavored demographic group, and I am never too surprised by what comes at me, save the recent dwarf who they "placed" (read, appears to be a tenant) on this floor. I didn't see that one coming, and I don't know where they fit in the freakshow as far as any possible past traumatizations go. What I do know is that the perps constantly have their gangstalkers moving up or down stairs in my proximity, bending over and popping back up, and all manner of feints to vary their relative head height to me. So..., it is not much of a stretch in perp harassment terms to have an adult that is substantially shorter than me. I do get many dudes taller than me loitering in my proximity, and even fat ones, but no 7' ones so far. Usually 6'6" is about the tallest gangstalker they plant around me. And it would be no surprise to be proven wrong this week.
Other freaks in the LD store were an armful of tattoos on a red T-shirted dude; I went to a longer checkout line to avoid having that freakish display in my face, something the perps would salivate over. They have taken to packing more freaks around me of late, close in, and the elevator seems to be the current fave for "freakshow clustering". The perps also planted the "need" to acquire more Lindt Creamy 100g. chocolate, as it was $2.50 per 100g., over a dollar off, and lo, if they didn't deplete all of it from yesterday, making the LD visitation to be a two skunk event. This tiresome fuckery of creating shortages for me to "discover" after being planted with the notion to purchase the item is still going strong after six years. Never mind all the covertly planned events for the prior 47 years.
Another oddity was having the two checkout cashiers I visited to be extra friendly and smiling; first a redhead (Unfavored) at the Rx counter, and then a homely blonde with pigtails, (neither Favored or Unfavored as far as I can tell), at the regular checkout. It was all a bit disconcerting while being cast into a grumpy mood.
Other recent planted "needs" are to have me piss away more money on my computer, all of it needlessly, as it works fine, and all components are less than two years old. Yesterday they had me drooling over video cards online, something they have done off and on for over three years, and then a round over new larger widescreen LCD displays, two at once even, and so it went, all the way to a Nikon scanner for $2k. These coveting games have long been a perp planted notions, pissing money plans before I have earned it. I might just get out of the red for the first time in two years with tomorrow's paycheck, which still doesn't get me new eyeglasses, as I am at least 8 years behind on getting a new prescription and need to see close up, which I cannot do unless I remove them. It goes without saying that the perps noisestalk me constantly when I remove my glasses to read the newspaper and other small print, and what I am seeing through, (e.g. eyeglasses, windows, transparent plastics, etc.) seems to be of profound importance to the assholes. Even the difference between safety glass (glass with an adhesive plastic between two laminations), pyrex glass and plain plate glass are of intense interest. I don't really care what I am looking at or through, as long as I can see properly, and even that isn't always allowed with the extra faux reflections and visual fuckery that goes on in near constant mode.
Anyhow, I am going to call this one done for the day, and blog off.
One after the other, and always when I lift my fingers off my ears to avoid hearing it, the Harley Davidson like (2 cycle engine) motorcycle noise continues in a train, as if there was a bikers' convention nearby, and they were departing after the Labor Day weekend. This is about the least biker city there is, and no biker's bar is within five miles at least. And none in the neighborhood. As always, it is a mystery as to why the perps are inundating me with the noise, the vehicular gangstalkings and the demonstrations of parked motorcycles all my waking hours. Yes, I loathe the noise of 2 cycle motorcycles, and especially if they are chopped to make even more noise, and that might be reason enough for the perps to crank on this noise/object theme. Somehow, I think there is more to it, and the 1950's motorcycle act (motorcycle, leathers and helmet of that era) that passes by me each day while waiting for the crew bus might be a tip off that motorcycles have a long-ago trauma association that still resides in my subconscious recollection. All conscious recall of such events has been purged (if they happened at all), creating the "lost years" of age 3 to 5, when I have better recall of being in Montreal aged 2 to 3. I have no idea where I lived or the arrival of my brother during this time frame, or any place that I lived for these years. Now that I sense my recall was fucked with back then, it is getting to piss me off all the more.
I stayed at my parent's place last night, and continued on there to do gardening duties for the morning. It was the first time in at least three weeks that I have stayed there when it was a regular weekly visitation event since 2003. Nothing much has changed; my father puts on the dementia act extra thick, then loiters some 15' away in the doorway, partially obstructed by the doorframe and the intervening wall, as seen from the living room into the dining room. The perps even arranged a desk lamp to be placed in between us to further limit how much of this loathesome asshole I am able to see by looking in his direction. And they even darkened down the dining room where he does this gangstalking walk/posing, presumably to lower the loathing level because I cannot see him distinctly. Fortuneately they didn't have him do this bullshit all evening, as I would of closed the door and that would of created a new dynamic. I also noticed he was doing his behind-the-door-jamb loitering from the other doorway into the living room where I was seated. And the perps also had a side casting table lamp behind him, casting his shadow into the living room and into my peripherial vision before he was directly visible. And when he incrementally advanced to be in my vision, why, a interlaced white colored plasma array erupted for a few seconds to render him into horizontally bandeds segments, even smaller pieces of loathing than the dining room posing mentioned above. These "horizontal banding plasma arrays" are about 2' to 3' high, 1.5' to 2' wide, and are invariably placed immediately in front of the subject that I am viewing. These have been arranged in other circumstances, and it maybe that this method of visual image reductionism is used where the perps have a particular difficulty in sorting out what I see from the entire meaning and emotional valence that I attatch to what is being masked in this bizarre manner. Not my problem; if I loathe all parties that had anything to do with past traumatizations, then why do I have a phalanx of fuckwits engaging in elaborate games to make these assholes only partially visible? And there are plenty of highly abusive events that I am allowed to recall about my father, and he likely represents the most difficult case to remediate, assuming that is what the perps are obsessed about.
Rachael O. of On Gangstalking laid out the emotional terrain for TI's (here) [not sure if I got the best link on this] who have been abused and currently decieved and harassed by family members. And I concurr; all family member quislings that have contributed to, and still continue to engage in this depraved harassment activity are fucking sick minded assholes. That is as blunt as it gets, and needs to be said every so often. And no "family counselling" comments are desired, if the comment section were to be opened up someday.
The Anonymous commenter, aka "tidbunker" has yet to reply to my last email, and I don't know if he is gone for good, or lying in wait to further engage in more spurious dialog. I am giving it some fallow time to see if this is a flurry or an ongoing campaign. Hard to take it seriously with that kind of email handle, something revealed in later correspondence, and to which I am waiting a reply to my question; how can I take this person seriously with an email handle that bluntly discredits his seeming curiousity. Enough on that subject too, as it another tiresome one.
Back to improbable stories. I took the bus to my parent's place yesterday, and for the 1709h #27 bus on a Sunday long weekend, it was nearly full, save the "Asian section" where there was one transverse seat availible. At least 8 were ringed around me and one beside me, along with the usual arm waving and stretching that signifies a perp script in progress. Such actions are universal among the shills and operatives, and are not exclusively those of Asians. A few blonde Caucasian women were seated outside the Asian gangstalker cluster.
Before I caught the bus I was gangstalking bait while waiting at the bus stop, an activity I usually limit as much as possible, but am often suckered into because the bus arrives late. Anyhow, I was watching the gangstalking show pass by, both vvehicular and ambulatory and lo, if one of the farm workers didn't "happen" to walk by, and I asked him why he wasn't there any more. As it "so happened", he and another stranger gangstalking dude, both of longer term experience than us "daffodil bulb people", were fired at the same time because they screwed up the operation of running the $20k sprinkler system one day. One screwed it up and it was deemed that the other was watching and "should of known". I don't put too much stock into these stories as it is often a way to write these folks out of the script, either to greater gifted glory if a shill, or onto another role if a trained operative. We hadn't finished the chat when the bus came, and I explained the predicament to the fellow, and lo, if he doesn't get on the bus after me, but doesn't sit nearby to continue the conversation, as a seat was close. He stands in that routine gangstalker sentry post, at the backdoor, waves to me to acknowledge that I saw him, and then gets off after two stops. Fucking bizarre; he had no need to take the bus as he "happened" to walk by while I was at the bus stop, but follows me onboard and then stands in the sentry location for some 3 minutes, and then gets off. Two bizarrre behaviors from one event. Someone explain that to me in conventional non-gangstalking involvement terms, especially you, "tidbunker".
2130h
An earlier outing to the LD store to get my Rx picked up; another skunk over finding no Neutrogena Deep Clean, though with some more imposters/like products. What exactly the perps get for planting the notion for me to resupply Neutrogena and then skunking me twice in two days is I don't know. Once they changed the plastic tube to be a dull nonglossy plastic once, and then reverted to the normal glossy plastic again, the graphics of the packaging staying identical.
I tossed out the garbage today, taking it down in the elevator as the garbage chute is "broken". And lo, if the perps didn't arrange for the dumpster to be overflowing on this Labor Day, and garbage strewn some 30' away with all manner of spillings, litterings, and other dispersal methods. No need to dumpster dive, just take it from the top, which is where my garbage ended up, also some 3' below the concrete overhanging ceiling of the parking lot. This area is also attracting the homeless (read, operatives doing funky things in the guise of vagrants), and it smelled like a pissoir, more than last time.
I had my on-street gangstalker dude show at the pedestrain intersection traffic light; males arranged in clusters, some appearing as if they don't know each other but are walking nearly side by side. Talk about silly, two dudes pretending the other isn't there as they walk along, one giving me the stare for no reason, and getting closer than is socially accepted in passing by. Then other shiftless males loitered about at each store location I needed to visit, and even a wheelchair act was at the Rx counter, and then managed to reprise themselves again when I exited the store, getting ahead of me and holding up my usual brisk walking pace.
Other wierds of that 15 minute round trip were a very black negro doing some kind of self-chatter as he shambled down the stairs ahead of me ascending, another one (female) in the cosmetic section putting on the stalking, and again another behind the pharmacy counter. That is a high count for this town for such a short trip. As always, skin tone is a vital part of the Unfavored demographic group, and I am never too surprised by what comes at me, save the recent dwarf who they "placed" (read, appears to be a tenant) on this floor. I didn't see that one coming, and I don't know where they fit in the freakshow as far as any possible past traumatizations go. What I do know is that the perps constantly have their gangstalkers moving up or down stairs in my proximity, bending over and popping back up, and all manner of feints to vary their relative head height to me. So..., it is not much of a stretch in perp harassment terms to have an adult that is substantially shorter than me. I do get many dudes taller than me loitering in my proximity, and even fat ones, but no 7' ones so far. Usually 6'6" is about the tallest gangstalker they plant around me. And it would be no surprise to be proven wrong this week.
Other freaks in the LD store were an armful of tattoos on a red T-shirted dude; I went to a longer checkout line to avoid having that freakish display in my face, something the perps would salivate over. They have taken to packing more freaks around me of late, close in, and the elevator seems to be the current fave for "freakshow clustering". The perps also planted the "need" to acquire more Lindt Creamy 100g. chocolate, as it was $2.50 per 100g., over a dollar off, and lo, if they didn't deplete all of it from yesterday, making the LD visitation to be a two skunk event. This tiresome fuckery of creating shortages for me to "discover" after being planted with the notion to purchase the item is still going strong after six years. Never mind all the covertly planned events for the prior 47 years.
Another oddity was having the two checkout cashiers I visited to be extra friendly and smiling; first a redhead (Unfavored) at the Rx counter, and then a homely blonde with pigtails, (neither Favored or Unfavored as far as I can tell), at the regular checkout. It was all a bit disconcerting while being cast into a grumpy mood.
Other recent planted "needs" are to have me piss away more money on my computer, all of it needlessly, as it works fine, and all components are less than two years old. Yesterday they had me drooling over video cards online, something they have done off and on for over three years, and then a round over new larger widescreen LCD displays, two at once even, and so it went, all the way to a Nikon scanner for $2k. These coveting games have long been a perp planted notions, pissing money plans before I have earned it. I might just get out of the red for the first time in two years with tomorrow's paycheck, which still doesn't get me new eyeglasses, as I am at least 8 years behind on getting a new prescription and need to see close up, which I cannot do unless I remove them. It goes without saying that the perps noisestalk me constantly when I remove my glasses to read the newspaper and other small print, and what I am seeing through, (e.g. eyeglasses, windows, transparent plastics, etc.) seems to be of profound importance to the assholes. Even the difference between safety glass (glass with an adhesive plastic between two laminations), pyrex glass and plain plate glass are of intense interest. I don't really care what I am looking at or through, as long as I can see properly, and even that isn't always allowed with the extra faux reflections and visual fuckery that goes on in near constant mode.
Anyhow, I am going to call this one done for the day, and blog off.
Monday, December 31, 2007
A 2007 Perp Accomplishment Review
1515h
As I type the "perp" word above, a coughing in the hallway erupts, the standardized sound that has gone on for over half a year. There has been a constant buzz of loud mufflered vehicles outside, the "performance" kind or the plain unmaintained variety. I got two of these vehicles heading the same direction in advance of crossing the street outside my apartment, having just got out of my parent's vehicle, and both of them getting out, when only my mother can drive now. It is all part of the First Feral Family gangstalking, this time outside their vehicle parked outside my apartment block so we could all hear these two loud mufflered vehicles together.
Other Feral Family highlights from yesterday were the TV pixellating in horizontal white bands of pixel spatter at the same moment the adjacent incandescent lamp was flickering. Quite the feat that. Then the blonde and attractive weather meterologist on the local news, whom the perps always like me to see and hear her relaxing vocal patter, had her face greyed in somewhat, making her look just a little freakish. Then later on "Inspector Morse", the perps banded the TV screen with variations on green and purple, making it out to be like old 35mm stock, which it isn't. Naturally, it was the faces that got this treatment, John Thaw's, and an attractive suitor that was a subplot, stoking some faint romantic interest in his grouchy character, unmarried into his late 50's. Like all TV I see, and only once per week, I see that the perps like to ensure I get continued exposure to the various Favored and Unfavored demographic group members, and "coloring" them up with faked video signal "problems" is also part of the game.
1625h
More action before I get onto the topic as detailed in today's blog title. I had a tea and chocolate break; it was preceded by overhead pounding and rumbling, as if someone could do this to 6" or more of concrete floors. Then even more pounding began, that being the cue to getting mind-fucked into yelling at the assholes, and at that moment, an anomalous muscle siezure in my right thigh started up and lasted for 10 seconds. Then while eating the chocolate, the same noises continued with added 2 cycle motorcycle noise, as if a Harley Davidson conference were on outside, and it persisted while doing the dishes. Then the hacking and coughing began in the hallway, also coinciding with other noises that I am not allowed to recall the detalils of. Just another teabreak.
Perp 2007 Accomplishments
I am getting mind-blanked while I attempt to consolidate all their seeming "accomplishments" for 2007, which translates to increased harassment capabilities. In no particular order, the perps have attained:
While taking the bus yesterday, the perps arranged for an Asian woman to be sitting at the bus stop at the same time. No big deal there. A grey-haired mid-fifties male was 10' away outside the glass bus shelter in his blue and white anorak doing the pacing back and forth act while sucking on a cigarette. So in effect, the three of us were in a E.-W. alignment, with the pacing act creating the most distance variability (through the safety glass) while the Asian woman and I were seated, some 3' apart. Then I get on the bus first, and lo, if all the seats had one operative (IMHO) sitting in each seat, save one where two Asian women were seated facing me. (Not many of these seat facing single deck buses in this town, but it was on the route today). One Asian woman was in a full length red coat, the other in a black down jacket with striated looking black jeans. Instead of the bus leaving, or any other feint to delay it, the bus sat at the bus stop for two minutes. And lo, if I wasn't then sitting 90 degrees from my last orientation with respect to the same pacing mid-fifties gangstalk act still outside on the sidewalk "waiting" for another bus, this time through the safety glass of the bus window. The bus finally departed, only to go through with this bizarre new habit of stopping at the next bus stop for no reason.
In the course of the bus trip, my back facing the direction of travel, I had three loitering dudes nearby, one playing a short game of peekaboo, hiding behind the rear corner air conditioning unit, not unlike the relentless games my father plays under cover of his dementia act when I visit my parents'. Later, some elderly female wierds get on, an unlikely pair of a light skinned reptilian (bug eyed) Indian woman and a Causasian sitting together across and one seat ahead. For whatever reason, they figured I was the local expert on the "Cedar Hill Church", but they were on the wrong route for that and didn't seem too moved when I told them. The two Asian girls opposite me later asked me about access to the University as we crossed its main access street, and likewise, didn't seem too concerned about it as they stayed in their seats when they could of got off and transfered if it was really where they were headed.
While on this same bus ride, I had a fugly redhaired woman sit behind me, back-to-back with the facing seat configuration and the above mentioned no-choice selection when boarding, and they pulled her some 10 minutes later, and then put East Indian woman with straight raven black hair in her place. I was effectively sandwiched with black haired women in front and behind me. With the facing seat configuration they can place someone closer to me than with the typical one-facing direction bus seats of most of the buses in this city.
As this bus was at the dusk onset time, there was no end of red color testing going on. The above mentioned female Asian's coat was opposite me as some kind of reference it would seem, and there was a huge number of red gangstalking vehicles on the route, motive or parked. And the bus route has more horizonal red neon lights circling the buildings than ever before, a plasma field inside the glass pipe that "happens" to follow the building's outer wall most often at intersection corners, the same locations where the perps devote extra gangstalking activity.
This morning, my mother was on about the red color paper shrouded potted plant she recieved last week, this appearing to be some kind of color test along with the plant material. More and more of these feints involve an object, or a gangstalker in the case of my father, being placed next to the windows and facing outside. She went on about the red color, and then that was a conversational elicitation to for me to "remember" there is a red colored ground cover product that one can place at the base of tomatoes (more red color association) to improve crop yeild. Even both my gardening slouch brothers grow tomatoes and I cannot figure out why, save the harassment and mind-fuck reaearch imperative. As mentioned in past blog postings, even the mention of a color name is often noisestalked, and it is more of a big deal of late.
2005h
The perps are on a beserk streak as I am reading about alien activity of past history, claiming that we are genetically engineered from competing alien races. The stereo music started its pounding, the street hollaring started up, the hallway coughing and hacking, and just now, an overhead pounding with a simultaneous zapping which I was made to scream about. (Muted screams, as the perps suck the air out of my diaphram as I speak to modulate the volume, doing what I would do in more normal circumstances). The big exceitement for them is this site, The Lyssa Royal Page, channelings from a psychic that describe some technical details about the origins of humans, though far from complete or cohesive. That the perps go absolutely beserk with noise and zappings while reading these pages suggests that they have a significant interest in associating what I am reading with much of what they arrange other times for me to see or hear about, e.g. racial topics (straight black hair even), marital fidelity and sexuality, and DNA (recent piece on 60 Minutes about a Caucasian farmer being distantly related to a city negro woman), etc.
2200h
It is New Year's Eve, and I got screwed out of remembering to go on the TI conference call tonight. It is also the excuse for squealing and hollaring in the hallway along with the now prerequisite concrete pounding.
01-01-2008
1505h
The ridiculous street whistling has started up again, and in cacaphonic harmony, the overhead rumbling noise has started to play concurrently. Seconds before that I got a laser-like straightline pain in my right leg near the bone, preceded by "happening" to page down to reveal an attractive woman's face. The perps know what I like in facial features and often place them on my visited websites and then follow with round black skinned (negro) faces in ads. There is a whole lot more to this, and my normal predilections as to attractiveness and resonance of character is also under intense study. That I like call-it-as-it-is analysis without being sugar coated, sentimentalized, self-censored or otherwise bowlderized is also of intense interest, and many of the blog sites that I regularly visit exhibit just this kind of incisive perspective. And lo, if they didn't set me up with at least one blog site where the Vancouver based attractive blonde blogger had a year-end photo wrap-up, and I got to see more pictures of her and appreciate that she was more attractive (in looks and character), emotive and "together" than I had originally thought for the past six months of reading Kerri-anne. The perps like me to have these upward re-appraisals of character, and had duly noisestalked this "discovery" with overhead clunking in the prime-noisestalk time in the run-up before lunch.
Last night, I had at least a two hour infatuation session on YouTube listening to Katie Melua, which took me into the New Year. All the while, if I wasn't gazing in total admiration to her stupendous beauty, I was reading Stereophile, something I had been doing earlier this week. One could assume that the perps put together two topics of interest in one websurfing session that were each individually explored earlier this past week. There is a pattern here, though I am usually the last one to figure it out. Even the usual barrage of aggravating LCD display games were minimized last night, the most egregious being the substitution by planned "mistake" of diplaying a way fugly corded haired negro woman instead of getting Katie Melua's beautiful looks. Which is to say, this fits another pattern, putting the fugly faced, or other Unfavored demographic group members next to, or in this case, in sequence with, the Favored, and all the better that they can sing with "my" attachment/infatuation, while on YouTube.
My, or more like, my mind-fuck imposed attachment and entrancement, in this case with Katie Melua's looks, voice, personality and comportment, was groomed over the course of the late evening, and every so often the perps sneak in, by way of the video, or else by an interjected freak shot (per aforementioned negro woman above) from the Unfavored demographic group. I note that Katie Melua has a mid-aged male skinheaded drummer, and I am sure the perps made sure I got to see him plenty often in the stage videos, often bathed in red or other colored lights. Related to the above mentioned theme of upward re-evaluating my perspective on my web character world (bloggers, performers, artists, writers etc.), I was treated to a in-session clip on YouTube where Katie Melua was telling her producer, then in front of an orchestra of at least 20 members, that the key on a specific bars which she identified were incorrect. To which he agreed. The perp's intent as I read it, was to impress me all the more that Katie Melua has the technical ability and fortitude as a serious and capable artist. Not that I did not doubt that, or in any way consigned her to any lesser status as a musician, but as this was the first time I had seen her articulating her technical musical capabilites in the course of her work (studio recording), my take on her as a musician and a person increased all the more. Anyhow, it seems that the perps are wanting me to have more of these "re-appraisal" moments, in both cases, of individuals of my web world who had become familiar to me in earlier visits.
And a low-key harassment day today, New Year's Day, something most odd as the perps don't respect any kind of holidays or the like. In fact, these have been past targets where they make it worse for me, having me sleeping in my vehicle over Christmas in 2002 as refuge from the pummeling headpains as well as the parents making their vituperative complicity plain as day. And lo, if my shrink at the time didn't "somehow" know to ask me about how I spent the Christmas holidays a few days later, and then get plenty of mileage out of what "I" told her. Of course I wasn't allowed to explain all the contributory details, and nor did she objectively question me as to how it all happened. A big sick joke that, and one that has set the tone of whom I am dealing with every vital moment since the overt harassment began. The shrink then prescribed my usual stimulant medication after suggesting that I might be psychotic from the perp's impositions as to where I spent Christmas. Go figure. Afterward, Ms. C of the story jumped all over my ass while on the phone, and then after I told her about this profound medical "diagnosis"/prescription incongruity, she suddenly went into clam-up mode.
I did not lose any sleep over the fact that Christmas was disrupted then, or even now, as the perps had made sure all the players at the time revealed themselves to be sick minded despicable quislings, which they still are as long as I am allowed to hold my own opinion, which is not usually the case.
I am currently getting the mid-afternoon imposed dimness, where most of the light in the room has been sucked out, especially that over the keyboard and viewing the keys. This must be the new noisestalking, light level diminuition stalking. Though, as I type this, I have been getting the all day long loud mufflered vehicle noises, as if New Year's Day somehow brings out the hotrods for a serial session, a parade of a kind.
After getting to bed at 0030h, I got the fake neighbor revellry noises; all this bonhomie and other celebratory events somehow failed to "happen" at midnight, and only began some 20 minutes later. After that, at least four major siren cascades were scripted, worse than a nightclub area, and this is not one. As usual, they were faked, and not even the siren lights were flickered into my room, something the perps like me to see most of the time.
1645h
The perps have reverted to normal form; the above paragraph was fraught with typo sabotage, one word taking four attempts with all enforced misspellings being the same. They had me yell at them over that, and after I shut the PC down for a tea and chocolate break, they jabbed me in the dick, jabbed me in the hand, clunked the teapot and the kettle and spilled water as if there was physical contact when there wasn't, only the noise and movement thereof. Thene they had me yell at them for that stunt too, and it is back to normal, not that there was any expectation of anything different.
The anti-virus software licence renewal fuckery continues, now in its fourth day. There was no web access to the needed webpages yesterday, and after phoning today, I get another number just for licence renewals, and as it so happens, they are not open today. Same old, same old.
1945h
The enragement games slowed down again after a suitable duration; the big deal seemed to be the tea and chocolate break; they cranked me up before, during and after and then eased off before scripting me for a dinner break, beset with clunking noise. The wind also started up, and even with the now drafting taped ill-fitting window frames, the cool air "somehow" gets in to chill me. Which plays into the recent events of having me wear a sweater over a shirt for the first time in some six years; a dark olive drab acrylic sweater that somehow begot some black sewn-on label fragments that I don't recall leaving there, or even having. That is how long I have not "needed" a sweater, and it would seem this represents more complex testing of color and garment combinations. I note my father has a dark forest green cardigan on these days, and no explanation as to where it came from as he never had it before.
2020h
An "sudden" urge to post this now and prevent another recall deletion about getting it posted just before I log off for the night. There have been way too many forced "forgets" on this account as past blog postings will attest, and funny, I never had the "problem" so bad before. No doubt a number of clunkings and clickings will mark the exact moment I post this, just another day at the office so to speak.
Finally, I am allowed to read this entire posting through, and lo, if there isn't some deeply embedded repetition that I am loathe to spend another 30 minutes repairing. And I see that some of my first paragraphs were deleted, as I found an broken nonsensical reference. Part of the plan, last year and this year.
As I type the "perp" word above, a coughing in the hallway erupts, the standardized sound that has gone on for over half a year. There has been a constant buzz of loud mufflered vehicles outside, the "performance" kind or the plain unmaintained variety. I got two of these vehicles heading the same direction in advance of crossing the street outside my apartment, having just got out of my parent's vehicle, and both of them getting out, when only my mother can drive now. It is all part of the First Feral Family gangstalking, this time outside their vehicle parked outside my apartment block so we could all hear these two loud mufflered vehicles together.
Other Feral Family highlights from yesterday were the TV pixellating in horizontal white bands of pixel spatter at the same moment the adjacent incandescent lamp was flickering. Quite the feat that. Then the blonde and attractive weather meterologist on the local news, whom the perps always like me to see and hear her relaxing vocal patter, had her face greyed in somewhat, making her look just a little freakish. Then later on "Inspector Morse", the perps banded the TV screen with variations on green and purple, making it out to be like old 35mm stock, which it isn't. Naturally, it was the faces that got this treatment, John Thaw's, and an attractive suitor that was a subplot, stoking some faint romantic interest in his grouchy character, unmarried into his late 50's. Like all TV I see, and only once per week, I see that the perps like to ensure I get continued exposure to the various Favored and Unfavored demographic group members, and "coloring" them up with faked video signal "problems" is also part of the game.
1625h
More action before I get onto the topic as detailed in today's blog title. I had a tea and chocolate break; it was preceded by overhead pounding and rumbling, as if someone could do this to 6" or more of concrete floors. Then even more pounding began, that being the cue to getting mind-fucked into yelling at the assholes, and at that moment, an anomalous muscle siezure in my right thigh started up and lasted for 10 seconds. Then while eating the chocolate, the same noises continued with added 2 cycle motorcycle noise, as if a Harley Davidson conference were on outside, and it persisted while doing the dishes. Then the hacking and coughing began in the hallway, also coinciding with other noises that I am not allowed to recall the detalils of. Just another teabreak.
Perp 2007 Accomplishments
I am getting mind-blanked while I attempt to consolidate all their seeming "accomplishments" for 2007, which translates to increased harassment capabilities. In no particular order, the perps have attained:
- 100% mind control, down to the most fleeting and reflective of thoughts, [Postscript - not true, was decieved]
- access to all my short term recall; they spent the better part of 2007 chasing down retrospective thoughts as they occured for short term events, less than a few days, and now seem to manipulate even my recall of what I did or saw only seconds ago,
- blatant exposure to seeing an object being controlled by extra-conventional gravitic means, and the perps don't cover it off with a recall blank-out or feigned fumble,
- blatant faked touchings, again, without any pretense that I "bumped" into something; the nearest "cause" can be 18" away or more,
- personal assault, attended to and logged by the local police, all to take a blood sample at a specific intersection, the wound being totally ignored by family members who had to have known this was coming, (and only two days later a multi-racial 6 person massacre in Vancouver- possible coincidence),
- more vision processing interference; an object in my peripherial vision will suddenly become "annoying" for no apparent reason, not even light and reflectance game reasons,
- more masers and plasma events in my vision; it is now constant
- all my ability to maintain a dialog of who did or thought what (me or them), and identify uncharacteristic planted thoughts can now be remotely dithered and controlled; in other words, my knowledge of me is now corruptible and manipulatible,
- all my internal self-talk dialog is totally controlled and manipulated, often with uncharacteristic associations and thoughts, typically constrained to the favorite perp themes of the day,
- any remaining abilities to trap logical inconguities and other errors of "judgement" or physicality can now be controlled and manipulated,
- "newfound" recall of long past associations that never happened before, as if my long term recall has improved, when one can be certain my mind-keepers are planting these as they have learned the patterns of my own recall and
- elightene me by way of telpathically planted notions, that are becoming persistent, and which are supported by exposure to the many props, displays, stunts and freakshow gangstalkers they arrange, and that I may have been the recipient of treatments from the infamous CIA supported researcher, Dr. Ewen Cameron of Montreal, when I lived there in the care of my parents in 1956-7, (age 2 to 3). He is widely rumored to have contact in the 1950's with the ever more infamous Dr. Mengle of Nazi death camp prisoner experimentation who appeared to have escaped and was seen in many locations in South America as well; and as a follow on,
- enlightened me in the same way as above, of possible medical tests and traumatizations to 1960 (age 6), supported in a fashion with my odd discrete and fractured memories from that time period where so many significant events cannot be recalled (e.g. arrival of brother at age 3), and also fit the pattern of the above mentioned exposure to the freakshow of Favored and Unfavored demographic group members (gangstalkers), and the huge amount of consistent "featuring" of various colors, clothing, skin tones, gait, comportment and other attributes of the ambulatory gangstalker community.
While taking the bus yesterday, the perps arranged for an Asian woman to be sitting at the bus stop at the same time. No big deal there. A grey-haired mid-fifties male was 10' away outside the glass bus shelter in his blue and white anorak doing the pacing back and forth act while sucking on a cigarette. So in effect, the three of us were in a E.-W. alignment, with the pacing act creating the most distance variability (through the safety glass) while the Asian woman and I were seated, some 3' apart. Then I get on the bus first, and lo, if all the seats had one operative (IMHO) sitting in each seat, save one where two Asian women were seated facing me. (Not many of these seat facing single deck buses in this town, but it was on the route today). One Asian woman was in a full length red coat, the other in a black down jacket with striated looking black jeans. Instead of the bus leaving, or any other feint to delay it, the bus sat at the bus stop for two minutes. And lo, if I wasn't then sitting 90 degrees from my last orientation with respect to the same pacing mid-fifties gangstalk act still outside on the sidewalk "waiting" for another bus, this time through the safety glass of the bus window. The bus finally departed, only to go through with this bizarre new habit of stopping at the next bus stop for no reason.
In the course of the bus trip, my back facing the direction of travel, I had three loitering dudes nearby, one playing a short game of peekaboo, hiding behind the rear corner air conditioning unit, not unlike the relentless games my father plays under cover of his dementia act when I visit my parents'. Later, some elderly female wierds get on, an unlikely pair of a light skinned reptilian (bug eyed) Indian woman and a Causasian sitting together across and one seat ahead. For whatever reason, they figured I was the local expert on the "Cedar Hill Church", but they were on the wrong route for that and didn't seem too moved when I told them. The two Asian girls opposite me later asked me about access to the University as we crossed its main access street, and likewise, didn't seem too concerned about it as they stayed in their seats when they could of got off and transfered if it was really where they were headed.
While on this same bus ride, I had a fugly redhaired woman sit behind me, back-to-back with the facing seat configuration and the above mentioned no-choice selection when boarding, and they pulled her some 10 minutes later, and then put East Indian woman with straight raven black hair in her place. I was effectively sandwiched with black haired women in front and behind me. With the facing seat configuration they can place someone closer to me than with the typical one-facing direction bus seats of most of the buses in this city.
As this bus was at the dusk onset time, there was no end of red color testing going on. The above mentioned female Asian's coat was opposite me as some kind of reference it would seem, and there was a huge number of red gangstalking vehicles on the route, motive or parked. And the bus route has more horizonal red neon lights circling the buildings than ever before, a plasma field inside the glass pipe that "happens" to follow the building's outer wall most often at intersection corners, the same locations where the perps devote extra gangstalking activity.
This morning, my mother was on about the red color paper shrouded potted plant she recieved last week, this appearing to be some kind of color test along with the plant material. More and more of these feints involve an object, or a gangstalker in the case of my father, being placed next to the windows and facing outside. She went on about the red color, and then that was a conversational elicitation to for me to "remember" there is a red colored ground cover product that one can place at the base of tomatoes (more red color association) to improve crop yeild. Even both my gardening slouch brothers grow tomatoes and I cannot figure out why, save the harassment and mind-fuck reaearch imperative. As mentioned in past blog postings, even the mention of a color name is often noisestalked, and it is more of a big deal of late.
2005h
The perps are on a beserk streak as I am reading about alien activity of past history, claiming that we are genetically engineered from competing alien races. The stereo music started its pounding, the street hollaring started up, the hallway coughing and hacking, and just now, an overhead pounding with a simultaneous zapping which I was made to scream about. (Muted screams, as the perps suck the air out of my diaphram as I speak to modulate the volume, doing what I would do in more normal circumstances). The big exceitement for them is this site, The Lyssa Royal Page, channelings from a psychic that describe some technical details about the origins of humans, though far from complete or cohesive. That the perps go absolutely beserk with noise and zappings while reading these pages suggests that they have a significant interest in associating what I am reading with much of what they arrange other times for me to see or hear about, e.g. racial topics (straight black hair even), marital fidelity and sexuality, and DNA (recent piece on 60 Minutes about a Caucasian farmer being distantly related to a city negro woman), etc.
2200h
It is New Year's Eve, and I got screwed out of remembering to go on the TI conference call tonight. It is also the excuse for squealing and hollaring in the hallway along with the now prerequisite concrete pounding.
01-01-2008
1505h
The ridiculous street whistling has started up again, and in cacaphonic harmony, the overhead rumbling noise has started to play concurrently. Seconds before that I got a laser-like straightline pain in my right leg near the bone, preceded by "happening" to page down to reveal an attractive woman's face. The perps know what I like in facial features and often place them on my visited websites and then follow with round black skinned (negro) faces in ads. There is a whole lot more to this, and my normal predilections as to attractiveness and resonance of character is also under intense study. That I like call-it-as-it-is analysis without being sugar coated, sentimentalized, self-censored or otherwise bowlderized is also of intense interest, and many of the blog sites that I regularly visit exhibit just this kind of incisive perspective. And lo, if they didn't set me up with at least one blog site where the Vancouver based attractive blonde blogger had a year-end photo wrap-up, and I got to see more pictures of her and appreciate that she was more attractive (in looks and character), emotive and "together" than I had originally thought for the past six months of reading Kerri-anne. The perps like me to have these upward re-appraisals of character, and had duly noisestalked this "discovery" with overhead clunking in the prime-noisestalk time in the run-up before lunch.
Last night, I had at least a two hour infatuation session on YouTube listening to Katie Melua, which took me into the New Year. All the while, if I wasn't gazing in total admiration to her stupendous beauty, I was reading Stereophile, something I had been doing earlier this week. One could assume that the perps put together two topics of interest in one websurfing session that were each individually explored earlier this past week. There is a pattern here, though I am usually the last one to figure it out. Even the usual barrage of aggravating LCD display games were minimized last night, the most egregious being the substitution by planned "mistake" of diplaying a way fugly corded haired negro woman instead of getting Katie Melua's beautiful looks. Which is to say, this fits another pattern, putting the fugly faced, or other Unfavored demographic group members next to, or in this case, in sequence with, the Favored, and all the better that they can sing with "my" attachment/infatuation, while on YouTube.
My, or more like, my mind-fuck imposed attachment and entrancement, in this case with Katie Melua's looks, voice, personality and comportment, was groomed over the course of the late evening, and every so often the perps sneak in, by way of the video, or else by an interjected freak shot (per aforementioned negro woman above) from the Unfavored demographic group. I note that Katie Melua has a mid-aged male skinheaded drummer, and I am sure the perps made sure I got to see him plenty often in the stage videos, often bathed in red or other colored lights. Related to the above mentioned theme of upward re-evaluating my perspective on my web character world (bloggers, performers, artists, writers etc.), I was treated to a in-session clip on YouTube where Katie Melua was telling her producer, then in front of an orchestra of at least 20 members, that the key on a specific bars which she identified were incorrect. To which he agreed. The perp's intent as I read it, was to impress me all the more that Katie Melua has the technical ability and fortitude as a serious and capable artist. Not that I did not doubt that, or in any way consigned her to any lesser status as a musician, but as this was the first time I had seen her articulating her technical musical capabilites in the course of her work (studio recording), my take on her as a musician and a person increased all the more. Anyhow, it seems that the perps are wanting me to have more of these "re-appraisal" moments, in both cases, of individuals of my web world who had become familiar to me in earlier visits.
And a low-key harassment day today, New Year's Day, something most odd as the perps don't respect any kind of holidays or the like. In fact, these have been past targets where they make it worse for me, having me sleeping in my vehicle over Christmas in 2002 as refuge from the pummeling headpains as well as the parents making their vituperative complicity plain as day. And lo, if my shrink at the time didn't "somehow" know to ask me about how I spent the Christmas holidays a few days later, and then get plenty of mileage out of what "I" told her. Of course I wasn't allowed to explain all the contributory details, and nor did she objectively question me as to how it all happened. A big sick joke that, and one that has set the tone of whom I am dealing with every vital moment since the overt harassment began. The shrink then prescribed my usual stimulant medication after suggesting that I might be psychotic from the perp's impositions as to where I spent Christmas. Go figure. Afterward, Ms. C of the story jumped all over my ass while on the phone, and then after I told her about this profound medical "diagnosis"/prescription incongruity, she suddenly went into clam-up mode.
I did not lose any sleep over the fact that Christmas was disrupted then, or even now, as the perps had made sure all the players at the time revealed themselves to be sick minded despicable quislings, which they still are as long as I am allowed to hold my own opinion, which is not usually the case.
I am currently getting the mid-afternoon imposed dimness, where most of the light in the room has been sucked out, especially that over the keyboard and viewing the keys. This must be the new noisestalking, light level diminuition stalking. Though, as I type this, I have been getting the all day long loud mufflered vehicle noises, as if New Year's Day somehow brings out the hotrods for a serial session, a parade of a kind.
After getting to bed at 0030h, I got the fake neighbor revellry noises; all this bonhomie and other celebratory events somehow failed to "happen" at midnight, and only began some 20 minutes later. After that, at least four major siren cascades were scripted, worse than a nightclub area, and this is not one. As usual, they were faked, and not even the siren lights were flickered into my room, something the perps like me to see most of the time.
1645h
The perps have reverted to normal form; the above paragraph was fraught with typo sabotage, one word taking four attempts with all enforced misspellings being the same. They had me yell at them over that, and after I shut the PC down for a tea and chocolate break, they jabbed me in the dick, jabbed me in the hand, clunked the teapot and the kettle and spilled water as if there was physical contact when there wasn't, only the noise and movement thereof. Thene they had me yell at them for that stunt too, and it is back to normal, not that there was any expectation of anything different.
The anti-virus software licence renewal fuckery continues, now in its fourth day. There was no web access to the needed webpages yesterday, and after phoning today, I get another number just for licence renewals, and as it so happens, they are not open today. Same old, same old.
1945h
The enragement games slowed down again after a suitable duration; the big deal seemed to be the tea and chocolate break; they cranked me up before, during and after and then eased off before scripting me for a dinner break, beset with clunking noise. The wind also started up, and even with the now drafting taped ill-fitting window frames, the cool air "somehow" gets in to chill me. Which plays into the recent events of having me wear a sweater over a shirt for the first time in some six years; a dark olive drab acrylic sweater that somehow begot some black sewn-on label fragments that I don't recall leaving there, or even having. That is how long I have not "needed" a sweater, and it would seem this represents more complex testing of color and garment combinations. I note my father has a dark forest green cardigan on these days, and no explanation as to where it came from as he never had it before.
2020h
An "sudden" urge to post this now and prevent another recall deletion about getting it posted just before I log off for the night. There have been way too many forced "forgets" on this account as past blog postings will attest, and funny, I never had the "problem" so bad before. No doubt a number of clunkings and clickings will mark the exact moment I post this, just another day at the office so to speak.
Finally, I am allowed to read this entire posting through, and lo, if there isn't some deeply embedded repetition that I am loathe to spend another 30 minutes repairing. And I see that some of my first paragraphs were deleted, as I found an broken nonsensical reference. Part of the plan, last year and this year.
Monday, February 19, 2007
Download Games
1310h
More download obstruction games; the ISP's instant messenger software keeps getting hung up, now four times in sucession, and when I disable the firewall temporarily, the same message comes up, same result.
And the perps have me cranked up to be highly intolerant of this fuckery. The scripted failure to find my rain coat at either my brother's or my parents' place where the remainder of my belongings are stored is particularly irksome. And of course it is pissing rain (all day, 2200h even). All this erupted over the coat that was thought to be a raincoat "failed" last week and leaked plenty. Not unlike camping trips of the past, also fucked weather-wise in all likelihood.
And the finding of my belongings was also corrupted by the fact that the way my last move evolved as it was organized/scripted; I had to repack my belongings and then the box contents description wasn't accurate. The last move was an extreme fuckover, and I am still paying the price, now 5 months later.
And more games on the bus coming into town from my parents' place where I stayed last night. Not only 5 times the normal number of passengers, but also they got me into a split couple gangstalk arrangement where she was beside me, and he was in front of me, turned 90 degrees. He was on head twitching and spinning duty, almost at the level of new tourist in town, even if the windows were fogged up. And the usual freaks came on board, all to "tickle" my latent aversions to certain colors, comportment or other psychic remnants from their introduced traumatizations of the distant past. The entire ramble on past traumatizations is here. And there is way too much typo fuckery going on to continue at this moment.
And another notion I had was to get some tools to enable me to get into the PC and quiet down the vibrational noise the perps introduced since the last shop visit some three weeks ago. This noise is being tied to the two new hard drives that were installed, and "somehow" that is related to this cycling vibration that sounds like an oscillating fan. And as I am being kept at the end of my tether today, that too is some fuckery that "I" am getting riled up about.
And I am getting shower stalked as I type this up, post lunchtime, the food digestion period the assholes like to noisestalk all the time. And another 4 year habit got fucked with today; when doing the dishes they mind-fucked me into not rinsing the fry pan, but just drying it. I have rinsed the frypan the same way every fucking day for 4 years, and "somehow" I forgot. Fucking bullshit. For the clinical assholes/pretenders, I want an explanation of how that could possibly happen.
1415h
The front door slamming and the room shaking is starting up; there is a noise flurry drive ongoing, all to build up to an all-quiet period, then another round before long. It is still raining outside, and that effectively contains me from going grocery shopping or to the day center, though not high on my list of diversions. Meanwhile, the navy blue towel hanging on the door beside me is wiggling away unto itself. This is not new; anything relatively moveable will sway or vibrate when I am nearby; the pop inside its bottles at any grocery store, hanging objects, and even soap bubbles that self-erupt from the dish soap container at the slightest touch will dart about as if energized by a hidden force. (Which is the case I contend).
I told the doctor once about the pop inside pop bottles vibrating away whenever I walked by it at the grocery store and he just blew me off. That is the kind of service I get from these assholes, the stooges who think they are doing boy scout duty in aiding the perps, even if wilfully engaging in illegal activity. What I don't get is that the dark hand of the perps, and there may be multiple factions of them, is manifestly evident in the 9/11 tragedy, and yet the entire population of Victoria is playing along with this, with substantial remuneration it appears.
1430h
More operatives are running by my door, heading into the bathroom next door, hurriedly flushing the toilet, running out again to the front door, slamming it (what else?) and then "causing" this room to shake 20' away. The perps do like to set up high speed movement at times; they had the fireman at the grocery store running out to his "call", as the firetruck was parked outside. And there are plenty of "joggers" about, more than usual for weekdays. When I had my vehicle, a Volvo 245, they had me drive over the speed limit all the time, and often, I would have vehicles around me doing the same speed. Even in the city, where the posted limit is 50kph (32 mph), the odd time I did (or was mind-fucked into it more like) 80kph, I had vehicles in front and behind be doing the same speed. That takes coordination, as well as ensuring that there was no pedestrians about.
1445h
Perhaps my stinging remarks about glass bottle bashing and the apparent (and fantastic) recycling activity of one of the operatives in a nearby room has hit home, in perpland. Today's glass bottle bashing is coming from outside today, though the reason is even more mysterious as there is no public recycling operation in this neighborhood. If it is a winning strategy, the perps will go back to it everytime, regardless of plausibility.
1500h
More coughing and hacking eruptions in the hallway, and another round of remotely invoked typo fuckery as I attempt to key this in. More of it, as I attempt to tidy this up. Since 2006, when the perps learned how to mind-fuck all my spelling, the typos and grammar games have become more intense as there are more ways to jerk me around to get the same outcome.
My mother has also taken on this fake coughing, as have some members at the yoga class. It is that directional component they like too; one side, then the other. That takes coordination.
And I also got coughstalked at Qi Gong last week; the instructor was asking for my name, and as I said it, one of the blatant operatives coughed at that very moment. Never have I known coughing to be so strategically applied, and this all began in 2003 when the perps had me in hospital illegally with their operatives buzzing about, in their gangstalking activity. It was then the coordinated coughing began, and has largely continued, especially in this so-called rooming house where they can pack their operatives in closer, and more of them. I cannot see getting out of here for awhile. And as I type this I am getting the overhead clunking again, obviously this is too much bait.
1515h
Some kind of electric motor has started up somewhere in this seeming rooming house; that hum also serves to create a cover story for adding a greater hum and synchronizing it with the buzzing the assholes apply to my feet, which has become nearly constant, all day and into sleep. Other routine events are the masers and plasma games that go on in my field of vision, and some vision perturbations.
1540h
More typo fuckery in typing email; three attempts to put a plural on a word. And the noisescape is timed to the very moment I depress the very key they have been preventing me from pressing.
1910h
Even with the halogen light on I am getting the dinginess of a Dicken's like hovel. And the very instant small dialog boxes are closed "someone" shakes the room with a front door slamming 20' away. Amazing how often that happens.
I was reading more about the 9/11 tragedy and how even the 9/11 commision appears to be involved in making up their version of events and ignoring conflicting testimony. It is a abomination of the depraved, to cook up that event and then start conflagrations in the Middle East, especially inserting themselves between the warring sects that even Saddam Hussein couldn't contain. What were they thinking? Or more like, what is really the objective here? That I cannot answer, but the intense noisestalking that goes on when I blog on this, as in right now, suggests a connection. I have mentioned this in past blogs and won't detail it here.
Related to 9/11, what I wanted to mention was the positioning of cable drums in front of the renovated section of the Pentagon that day, exactly in front of the location where Flight 93 crashed into the building. (And it made a spiralling 270 degree arc in descending in 2.5 minutes to target that relatively unpopulated quadrant of the building.) As it so happens, one of the very favorite large mass objects the perps use to stalk me with, as in prepositioning them on my route, are drums of cable! These are on powerline service trucks, usually with a boom, and there maybe two or more drums positioned on the rear of the truck, usually directed at the direction of my approach. They will often put two or three of these vehicles together on a "job", something I hadn't seen before overt harassment, BOH, 04-15-2002.
So could it be that the drums of cable were pre-positioned at the very location that Flight 93 was to crash into for some kind of energetics study? On another note, the perps do like to rip open a building, a topic that has also recieved past blogging, and Flight 93 did that in spectacular and tragic fashion. Here is a site that spoofs the integrity of those cable drums outside the Pentagon, though I don't neccessarily agree with their conclusions.
2050h
All I need to do to attract more noise flurries is read about the 9/11 tragedies and analysis of events. This gets the clunking in the bathroom going, the proverbial crockery clashing being a part of it. Some voice over that is now coming in quieter than it did before, and other noises like exceptionally loud water moving in pipes, sirens and it is another iteration of what goes on every day. And if I have any uncontrolled thoughts as to coincidences and conspiracy, why, more noise suddenly erupts.
One interesting item that I learned; that the 328 page Patriot Act was introduced 13 days after the 9/11 event and that the two senators that wanted to slow it down got anthrax attacks on their offices (weapons grade anthrax no less).
And while I did the link for the above paragraph, a timed front door slamming and room shake occured when I found the web page I wanted to link to.
Another curious anomaly that followed 9/11, though likely serving a different objective, was the following string of premature deaths of prominent microbiologists.
2220h
Some relative quiet for the past hour, what a relief. I finished reading the book, Suburban Spies by Anthony Brina, and it does replicate much, but not all of the experiences I have encountered to date. He gets gangstalked some, not as much as me it seems, but he gets more lookalikes, the operatives who are morphed-over to look like specific people in his life. He got the wayward vixen treatment, a tempestous planted girlfriend who was short on describing how she knew about certain private things that only he would of known, and well as being good for creating disagreements over her curious whereabouts and activities.
My planted female vexation was Ms. C in my story, who still communicates the odd phone call and email , even though I haven't seen her in nearly four years. (I am not allowed to cross the US border, as they reject me because I might "become a ward of the state" (see details below). And of course she never comes up to Canada). Who she is, and who she morphs into in my current surroundings I can only guess, but she could well be in my proximity in a number of guises as she has the advantage, in perp perspective terms, to have been close to me for a time, and that seems to confer certain advantages to the gangstalking activity. I have seen her likeness on hiking trails in 2005 and 2006, but she is not a hiker and was likely teleported in for a gangstalk.
As an example of planting past friends and colleagues, the perps usually go nuttier with more gangstalking and stunts on Mondays after I have stayed at my parents' place Sunday night. (Today is a low key Monday). But they came out in droves last night when I was driving my parents home from my brother's place where we had dinner. Normally that time of night, Sunday about 2000h, is a low traffic period in the winter. I reckon they put some 400 vehicles on me last night on a 20 minute drive, the coup de gras was a long container truck with triple bogey wheels in the rear making a left hand turn in front of me, all painted in an orange-red color. And note, given the retail chain it was working for, it was bizarre that it was making that turn there coming off a major artery.
Back to Anthony Brina's book again; it is written for the TI community, to validate their harassment situations and compare notes on who gets fucked with what and why. I would recommend it for those who are curious about extra-legal harassment, surveillance and gangstalking. It appears that the perps are letting Anthony Brina work, although barely as work harassment eventually builds up and he is forced to resign before long. In his case, the perps like to plant the "said before" conversations on him, where someone will repeat almost verbatim what he said privately to someone else, and there is no expectation that the "repeat offender" would have access to the converstation. It is rare that I get this, and my harassment is more in the form of elicitations where they arrange the conversation around details of my knowlege, and will likely bring forward, assuming it isn't all mind controlled (mine), but keeping "my" syntax and vocabulary largely in character. And I assume, the "knowledge" that I have is largely planted in along the way, and they may have me consolidate it in mind a week before I meet the person who is to elicit it.
Even his own father is in on these repeat conversations, where the father repeated a conversation that the author gave to his 10 year old son, related to his divorce at the time. And when Anthony Brina challenged his father on how he knew to say what he did, as it had been "lifted" from his earlier conversation with his son, his father stiffened up and went very defensive.
Anthony Brina's life hasn't settled down any since he wrote the book in 03-2006, though his recent emails with me indicate that he has gone back to Asia, a location that he felt at a disadvantage in not speaking the language and being readily identified as a foreigner, and hence, one who could be ripped off with impunity. And he had some adverse harassment games go on, not the least or which was getting tripped up over Chinese visas, deportation threats and having his passport invalidated over a technical tiff with his ex-wife.
The perps have pulled some visa and passport games with me, but nothing too substantive or odd at the time, except when the INS pulled their guns on me to give me a piece of paper with the US Consulate's phone number in Vancouver BC. I was not acting oddly or doing anything threatening, all I wanted to do was clean out my apartment in Seattle. No go, big show; don't come back.
Anthony Brina finds that he cannot get very far in relationships with women, and from my experience, the perps can, and will, manage all aspects of all relationships down to the last glance even, so perhaps he doesn't realize the complete and utter bind that he is in. Or at least, that is my opinion, as everything is managed for me, right down to the excessive bird shit and spittle on every sidewalk I take. Even the litter is managed for particular color consistencies at specific locations over the course of two years even.
Enough to blog off and hope for no rain tommorow.
More download obstruction games; the ISP's instant messenger software keeps getting hung up, now four times in sucession, and when I disable the firewall temporarily, the same message comes up, same result.
And the perps have me cranked up to be highly intolerant of this fuckery. The scripted failure to find my rain coat at either my brother's or my parents' place where the remainder of my belongings are stored is particularly irksome. And of course it is pissing rain (all day, 2200h even). All this erupted over the coat that was thought to be a raincoat "failed" last week and leaked plenty. Not unlike camping trips of the past, also fucked weather-wise in all likelihood.
And the finding of my belongings was also corrupted by the fact that the way my last move evolved as it was organized/scripted; I had to repack my belongings and then the box contents description wasn't accurate. The last move was an extreme fuckover, and I am still paying the price, now 5 months later.
And more games on the bus coming into town from my parents' place where I stayed last night. Not only 5 times the normal number of passengers, but also they got me into a split couple gangstalk arrangement where she was beside me, and he was in front of me, turned 90 degrees. He was on head twitching and spinning duty, almost at the level of new tourist in town, even if the windows were fogged up. And the usual freaks came on board, all to "tickle" my latent aversions to certain colors, comportment or other psychic remnants from their introduced traumatizations of the distant past. The entire ramble on past traumatizations is here. And there is way too much typo fuckery going on to continue at this moment.
And another notion I had was to get some tools to enable me to get into the PC and quiet down the vibrational noise the perps introduced since the last shop visit some three weeks ago. This noise is being tied to the two new hard drives that were installed, and "somehow" that is related to this cycling vibration that sounds like an oscillating fan. And as I am being kept at the end of my tether today, that too is some fuckery that "I" am getting riled up about.
And I am getting shower stalked as I type this up, post lunchtime, the food digestion period the assholes like to noisestalk all the time. And another 4 year habit got fucked with today; when doing the dishes they mind-fucked me into not rinsing the fry pan, but just drying it. I have rinsed the frypan the same way every fucking day for 4 years, and "somehow" I forgot. Fucking bullshit. For the clinical assholes/pretenders, I want an explanation of how that could possibly happen.
1415h
The front door slamming and the room shaking is starting up; there is a noise flurry drive ongoing, all to build up to an all-quiet period, then another round before long. It is still raining outside, and that effectively contains me from going grocery shopping or to the day center, though not high on my list of diversions. Meanwhile, the navy blue towel hanging on the door beside me is wiggling away unto itself. This is not new; anything relatively moveable will sway or vibrate when I am nearby; the pop inside its bottles at any grocery store, hanging objects, and even soap bubbles that self-erupt from the dish soap container at the slightest touch will dart about as if energized by a hidden force. (Which is the case I contend).
I told the doctor once about the pop inside pop bottles vibrating away whenever I walked by it at the grocery store and he just blew me off. That is the kind of service I get from these assholes, the stooges who think they are doing boy scout duty in aiding the perps, even if wilfully engaging in illegal activity. What I don't get is that the dark hand of the perps, and there may be multiple factions of them, is manifestly evident in the 9/11 tragedy, and yet the entire population of Victoria is playing along with this, with substantial remuneration it appears.
1430h
More operatives are running by my door, heading into the bathroom next door, hurriedly flushing the toilet, running out again to the front door, slamming it (what else?) and then "causing" this room to shake 20' away. The perps do like to set up high speed movement at times; they had the fireman at the grocery store running out to his "call", as the firetruck was parked outside. And there are plenty of "joggers" about, more than usual for weekdays. When I had my vehicle, a Volvo 245, they had me drive over the speed limit all the time, and often, I would have vehicles around me doing the same speed. Even in the city, where the posted limit is 50kph (32 mph), the odd time I did (or was mind-fucked into it more like) 80kph, I had vehicles in front and behind be doing the same speed. That takes coordination, as well as ensuring that there was no pedestrians about.
1445h
Perhaps my stinging remarks about glass bottle bashing and the apparent (and fantastic) recycling activity of one of the operatives in a nearby room has hit home, in perpland. Today's glass bottle bashing is coming from outside today, though the reason is even more mysterious as there is no public recycling operation in this neighborhood. If it is a winning strategy, the perps will go back to it everytime, regardless of plausibility.
1500h
More coughing and hacking eruptions in the hallway, and another round of remotely invoked typo fuckery as I attempt to key this in. More of it, as I attempt to tidy this up. Since 2006, when the perps learned how to mind-fuck all my spelling, the typos and grammar games have become more intense as there are more ways to jerk me around to get the same outcome.
My mother has also taken on this fake coughing, as have some members at the yoga class. It is that directional component they like too; one side, then the other. That takes coordination.
And I also got coughstalked at Qi Gong last week; the instructor was asking for my name, and as I said it, one of the blatant operatives coughed at that very moment. Never have I known coughing to be so strategically applied, and this all began in 2003 when the perps had me in hospital illegally with their operatives buzzing about, in their gangstalking activity. It was then the coordinated coughing began, and has largely continued, especially in this so-called rooming house where they can pack their operatives in closer, and more of them. I cannot see getting out of here for awhile. And as I type this I am getting the overhead clunking again, obviously this is too much bait.
1515h
Some kind of electric motor has started up somewhere in this seeming rooming house; that hum also serves to create a cover story for adding a greater hum and synchronizing it with the buzzing the assholes apply to my feet, which has become nearly constant, all day and into sleep. Other routine events are the masers and plasma games that go on in my field of vision, and some vision perturbations.
1540h
More typo fuckery in typing email; three attempts to put a plural on a word. And the noisescape is timed to the very moment I depress the very key they have been preventing me from pressing.
1910h
Even with the halogen light on I am getting the dinginess of a Dicken's like hovel. And the very instant small dialog boxes are closed "someone" shakes the room with a front door slamming 20' away. Amazing how often that happens.
I was reading more about the 9/11 tragedy and how even the 9/11 commision appears to be involved in making up their version of events and ignoring conflicting testimony. It is a abomination of the depraved, to cook up that event and then start conflagrations in the Middle East, especially inserting themselves between the warring sects that even Saddam Hussein couldn't contain. What were they thinking? Or more like, what is really the objective here? That I cannot answer, but the intense noisestalking that goes on when I blog on this, as in right now, suggests a connection. I have mentioned this in past blogs and won't detail it here.
Related to 9/11, what I wanted to mention was the positioning of cable drums in front of the renovated section of the Pentagon that day, exactly in front of the location where Flight 93 crashed into the building. (And it made a spiralling 270 degree arc in descending in 2.5 minutes to target that relatively unpopulated quadrant of the building.) As it so happens, one of the very favorite large mass objects the perps use to stalk me with, as in prepositioning them on my route, are drums of cable! These are on powerline service trucks, usually with a boom, and there maybe two or more drums positioned on the rear of the truck, usually directed at the direction of my approach. They will often put two or three of these vehicles together on a "job", something I hadn't seen before overt harassment, BOH, 04-15-2002.
So could it be that the drums of cable were pre-positioned at the very location that Flight 93 was to crash into for some kind of energetics study? On another note, the perps do like to rip open a building, a topic that has also recieved past blogging, and Flight 93 did that in spectacular and tragic fashion. Here is a site that spoofs the integrity of those cable drums outside the Pentagon, though I don't neccessarily agree with their conclusions.
2050h
All I need to do to attract more noise flurries is read about the 9/11 tragedies and analysis of events. This gets the clunking in the bathroom going, the proverbial crockery clashing being a part of it. Some voice over that is now coming in quieter than it did before, and other noises like exceptionally loud water moving in pipes, sirens and it is another iteration of what goes on every day. And if I have any uncontrolled thoughts as to coincidences and conspiracy, why, more noise suddenly erupts.
One interesting item that I learned; that the 328 page Patriot Act was introduced 13 days after the 9/11 event and that the two senators that wanted to slow it down got anthrax attacks on their offices (weapons grade anthrax no less).
And while I did the link for the above paragraph, a timed front door slamming and room shake occured when I found the web page I wanted to link to.
Another curious anomaly that followed 9/11, though likely serving a different objective, was the following string of premature deaths of prominent microbiologists.
2220h
Some relative quiet for the past hour, what a relief. I finished reading the book, Suburban Spies by Anthony Brina, and it does replicate much, but not all of the experiences I have encountered to date. He gets gangstalked some, not as much as me it seems, but he gets more lookalikes, the operatives who are morphed-over to look like specific people in his life. He got the wayward vixen treatment, a tempestous planted girlfriend who was short on describing how she knew about certain private things that only he would of known, and well as being good for creating disagreements over her curious whereabouts and activities.
My planted female vexation was Ms. C in my story, who still communicates the odd phone call and email , even though I haven't seen her in nearly four years. (I am not allowed to cross the US border, as they reject me because I might "become a ward of the state" (see details below). And of course she never comes up to Canada). Who she is, and who she morphs into in my current surroundings I can only guess, but she could well be in my proximity in a number of guises as she has the advantage, in perp perspective terms, to have been close to me for a time, and that seems to confer certain advantages to the gangstalking activity. I have seen her likeness on hiking trails in 2005 and 2006, but she is not a hiker and was likely teleported in for a gangstalk.
As an example of planting past friends and colleagues, the perps usually go nuttier with more gangstalking and stunts on Mondays after I have stayed at my parents' place Sunday night. (Today is a low key Monday). But they came out in droves last night when I was driving my parents home from my brother's place where we had dinner. Normally that time of night, Sunday about 2000h, is a low traffic period in the winter. I reckon they put some 400 vehicles on me last night on a 20 minute drive, the coup de gras was a long container truck with triple bogey wheels in the rear making a left hand turn in front of me, all painted in an orange-red color. And note, given the retail chain it was working for, it was bizarre that it was making that turn there coming off a major artery.
Back to Anthony Brina's book again; it is written for the TI community, to validate their harassment situations and compare notes on who gets fucked with what and why. I would recommend it for those who are curious about extra-legal harassment, surveillance and gangstalking. It appears that the perps are letting Anthony Brina work, although barely as work harassment eventually builds up and he is forced to resign before long. In his case, the perps like to plant the "said before" conversations on him, where someone will repeat almost verbatim what he said privately to someone else, and there is no expectation that the "repeat offender" would have access to the converstation. It is rare that I get this, and my harassment is more in the form of elicitations where they arrange the conversation around details of my knowlege, and will likely bring forward, assuming it isn't all mind controlled (mine), but keeping "my" syntax and vocabulary largely in character. And I assume, the "knowledge" that I have is largely planted in along the way, and they may have me consolidate it in mind a week before I meet the person who is to elicit it.
Even his own father is in on these repeat conversations, where the father repeated a conversation that the author gave to his 10 year old son, related to his divorce at the time. And when Anthony Brina challenged his father on how he knew to say what he did, as it had been "lifted" from his earlier conversation with his son, his father stiffened up and went very defensive.
Anthony Brina's life hasn't settled down any since he wrote the book in 03-2006, though his recent emails with me indicate that he has gone back to Asia, a location that he felt at a disadvantage in not speaking the language and being readily identified as a foreigner, and hence, one who could be ripped off with impunity. And he had some adverse harassment games go on, not the least or which was getting tripped up over Chinese visas, deportation threats and having his passport invalidated over a technical tiff with his ex-wife.
The perps have pulled some visa and passport games with me, but nothing too substantive or odd at the time, except when the INS pulled their guns on me to give me a piece of paper with the US Consulate's phone number in Vancouver BC. I was not acting oddly or doing anything threatening, all I wanted to do was clean out my apartment in Seattle. No go, big show; don't come back.
Anthony Brina finds that he cannot get very far in relationships with women, and from my experience, the perps can, and will, manage all aspects of all relationships down to the last glance even, so perhaps he doesn't realize the complete and utter bind that he is in. Or at least, that is my opinion, as everything is managed for me, right down to the excessive bird shit and spittle on every sidewalk I take. Even the litter is managed for particular color consistencies at specific locations over the course of two years even.
Enough to blog off and hope for no rain tommorow.
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