07-15-2012
Some very strange dreams this morning, perp planted of course. Something to do with the former premier of this province, which is about he last thing I would dream about if uninvaded. Yoga this morning, and the contingent to move me somewhere else was in early so I didn't get my usual E side location. And the move-along thing again, which frequently breaks out (aka scripted and organized) in cinemas, theatres and now yoga classrooms. A couple came in late, he of the tattoos, and then myself and two others moved along in one direction so the blonde woman to my L ended up on top of my original location before the session started. A new instructor who walked the room and did demos wherever she was at the moment. She was the former owner of the business, and certainly knew her yoga and all things that go into the process from the student's perspective. The perps reverted back to their wobbling me when I was on one foot; last week they relented for the first time in five years and I was hoping this was the new trend. What did I say about how they like to arranged "dashed expectations"? As in all the time, these set-ups from disinfo shills as well as their planted notions.
And still in "shit refugee" status; a forced shit at the mall, and toilet probs arranged there again. Then off hiking to Oliver to hike to McIntyre Bluff. some distant thunder and lightning, and as I neared the summit, why, the thunderstorm was on top of me. So...., within 100m of the summit, I put on my raingear and head back down. Still in my yoga shorts though, the tanned and near hairless waxed legs of last week stil look good.
It rained harder once I was back in my vehicle, and the perps were full value for misting up the windshield just as was to make a turn in the farm road. A hiking couple were nearby, and made the same corner ahead of me, as I waited for the windshield to clear. Funny how things are extra protracted or harassed at corners, or when changing direction.
As suspected, the perps had me put on more weight, now 197lb, up from 194lb last week. Why they need to puff me up like this is just insane, though I am sure it happens to far more people that would be aware of externally applied weight gain. I also suspect they added some 5lb to me since 01-2012, though I didn't have access to a scale then. Back in 2007 I reduced my lunch and dinners by half, and this had no bearing on my weight, even if I was working out twice a week. They have been planting the notion of liposuction for some 5 or more years, and had me purchase a book on it recently. As always, they like to start big plans and maintain no financial means to effect them.
Aren't roomies wonderful, especially when they call out for you through closed doors to offer something good, like these juicer and blender drinks that the raw foodist makes up? All to rouse me from a near sleep as a nap attack came on at 1730h, and I was just nodding off. An earlier stunt was to have her get in close to me under the excuse of needing to get at the cupboard that was behind me, as I was standing over the washing machine, untangling the just-laundered laundry, another perp trick of late. And how often have I mentioned that the perps find great interest in my and my laundry? About every other blog posting. And here we have the roomie-stalker making an excuse to look for something near me while dealing with the fuckery they pulled with my clothes at the washing machine.
Three days ago, this same roomie suddenly erupted for a 0500h get-up, to "join me" in the kitchen at that hour when he had been getting up at 0530h, if at all. The occasion of the event was that I was pouring the last of the ground coffee from the package into the coffee carafe instead of using a spoon. And that moment, at the end of a bagful of coffee, is a BIG DEAL for the perps, so of course they had their roomie-stalker get up early just for that, loiter around, make her own coffee and leave the Melita filter in the sink. Which a particular beef of mine, as she knowingly ties up the kitchen sink with her coffee-stalking games. I am finished breakfast before her, so I retrieve the Melita filter and coffee and put it on a plate on the counter. It just strikes me as totally fucking rude to unilaterally tie the sink up with one's mess in a shared kitchen and then take off. But of course I am expecting more rude outbreaks since 04-2002, when the Day of Insane Infamy came down on me with an invasion of lights, noise and unconventional physics in my apartment, along with some personnel later.
07-17-2012
Vineyard work; manually topping the vines, and then tucking shoots in to stop them flopping into the aisle between the rows. A very productive site this is, as the shoots are growing at a considerable rate, more than other vineyards on other sites.
There are ongoing building construction projects from the E and S where I am working in the vineyard. As mentioned in past blogs, the sound of a hammer contacting wood about every second or so seems to be an awfully slow builder, nevermind being a quaint one who eschews pneumatic nailers. Somehow, this same noise and hammering rate erupts around all my farm jobs to date, from 2008 on. Often there is no visible project, though not the case here. I call these "tap attacks" for lack of a better term, as that seems to be the focus, this lethargic one hammer stroke per second or slower, unlike any builder I have known. And there has been building jobs around me nearly all my life; new school wings, lot infill next door, condo complexes and even a 50 storey office tower next to my former work in Seattle.
Then here this evening; the landlady tapping the wall underneath me in the NW bedroom as she now lives down there in the basement. And lo, when I have tea in the SE dining area, why, she is tapping the ceiling/floor under my feet. Can we say "without pretense of picture hanging" or whatever else it could be construed as? As in hounding the victim from below with prior knowledge of where the victim is? Besides, she never gets onto things like that, this place is Clutterville. There is even a picture that is awaiting hanging in this room for six weeks now, featuring dolphins, her favorite animal, after house cats and caged birds.
Post-reading a book outside at the table for 1.5 hours, plenty of noise like lawnmowers, screaming kids, and HD motorcycle noise. I finish up reading and start sharpening my hand pruners, and lo, if the same noises don't get louder while sharpening the pruners with a carbide scraper to pare down the cutting edge. And most odd that I "forgot" about this carbide scraping tool the last twice I was sharpening the pruners and a knife blade.
And more goodies arrived from my shopping binge I was made to go on about ten days ago. One being a new kitchen knife, a sankotu bladed knife, another item I have wanted for at least five years as I didn't have a good chopping knife, and made do with smaller ones. Funny how the perps promote the coveting of some items for years, and then suddenly the "need" comes on. This was a Wustof knife, of the same line when my mother bought a new knife for her kitchen after one somehow broke its weld. That was over two years ago, and I was with her in the moderate sized kitchen store, and there had to be a gangstalker swarm of at least 40 of the assholes coursing about, my perp-abetting mother putting on the ditz and doing the standard harassment aiding stunts she suddenly took up when this insane abusive torture began.
The pots and lids games deserve a mention, as this is third time of three I have acquired a kitchenware pot on sale but without a lid. And so, like last time, I order a glass lid from the same kitchen supplies outfit. And I have no idea why they put me through this, as they don't let me cook with pots very often, just a frypan. And why ordering lids at least a year later after acquiring the pots in the first two. This latest round had a temporal interval of four months between pot and lid aquisition; I suppose one could call that progress for the perps, but as this nonsense has no apparent end use, what is the ultimate objective? But there have been other acquisitions which didn't make sense at the time, and lo, their use becomes manifest in new situation, months or years later.
While at work on the vineyard, Irritable Bowel Syndrome, aka IBS, and a forced visit to the washroom to relieve it and NO blocked toilet. Though, my co-worker champing on the bit to get into the bathroom after me. Funny how that "happens" here and at work.
Two nights in succession, I hear a male voice from the landlady's basement room below. As in who is it, and why so late. And of course she doesn't mention anything. More wierdness, and I have had my fill, but "somehow" the right place to rent doesn't come up
07-18-2012
A day of tending to the vines in the hot weather; I am not complaining though, my never-before (harassment onset) abilities to withstand hot weather kept me going. In other words, my "wilting point" was much lower than it is now since the perps fixed (or control) it.
But they were up to their shit games, and after two hours of irritable bowel, they had me take another shit at the owner's house, and lo, if they didn't plug the toilet this time. It is the secong plugging, and I was surprised they didn't pull this stunt yesterday. It was a low volume dump, same as yesterday, and there is no way it should of plugged up. And the same deal; my co-worker arrives just as I am exiting the adjacent room. Like WTF; how could these forced craps at the owner's house, the first in over four weeks, be suddenly accompanied by my co-worker arriving just after I finished, two days in succession? Like I have said, it is all orchestrated IMHO.
Aircraft encirclement when on the deck reading this evening; two 180 degree turns by the same helicopter, a business jet for one flyby, and a Cessna doing three noisy 180 degree turns overhead. And the "tapping attacks" late in the day, about 1900h, as if I needed a reminder having heard it for most of the day at the vineyard. Not only that, but further replications of the vineyard neighborhood locally; the back lane residential neighbor starting a cement mixing project at 2100h, including a load of loose sand in a red truck with red canopy. The E adjacent neighbor was pounding the ground and seeming to be driving in stakes for some obscure reason, yet to be determined. As if I don't get enough of this at work, with the adjacent vineyard building a three bay garage and shop.
07-19-2012
No bowel assaults today, as they have the toilet at the vineyard still backed up. Having a plugged toilet for days on end is a big deal for the perps, and so they gave me relief from the daily bowels/shit games of this week and last week. Nice of them don't you think?
And the "tap attacks" were still in progress today, though only from the S. direction where a much bigger project is in progress, a three bay garage and storage building, surely $100k worth. This way, not only concrete trucks, but soil and gravel hauling trucks, and a crane today -raising the roof trusses.
A sequence of the hotrod muffler noise also goes for 20 minutes of my first hour of working in the vineyard, part of the predictable noise occurences.
The adjacent farm propane cannon fires less now, maybe 3x/hour instead of 20x per hour. And now timed to the moment I prune a vine shoot with my Felco pruners or have a thought that is resonant with my perceptions. I say "my", as I am sure it is planted, but the instant I agree with the thought, it being relevant and true, the cannon fires off. The propane cannon is to ostensibly to prevent birds from feeding on nearby orchard crops, part of the agricultural pest management.
The E. Indian alterations shop woman seemed relieved that she was finished with dealing with me and the double zipper that malfunctioned. In the past, I could never figure out why people were so happy when it was time for me to depart, but it all make sense now, given that a malevolent entity orchestrates every interaction that I have with anybody.
07-20-2012
A strange toilet conversation with the male vineyard owner; "what part of it do you think is blocked?". This from a trained engineer for crissakes.
A bigtime thunderstorm as I finish up work on a row of tucking and hedging vines. Only spatters of rain when I finished up thankfully, as I had my shorts on to get my legs tanned all the more. I see the vineyard worker some 80m away at another vineyard is down to shorts only. The same vineyard has a small backhoe back again, digging along the ridge of a small hill. And masers coming off the digger and soil coming at me too. The perps have no end of need to display soil of various colors and sources, and I suppose they are working on a 80m distance presently. Which might fit in with their need to have me take commercial flights of late, this distance dependent "need" again, all the way up to 30k ft. By the end of the third week of August I will have made three trips (flights) from Kelowna to Victoria, nonstop.
A nap attack of 1.5 hours after playing the first four songs of "Fumbling Toward Ecstacy" for the first time, having recieved the CD in the mail earlier. Whatever "stuff" that was in the music/CD, they wanted me to be more neurally accessible by having me sleep so they could find its neural energetic correlates. Or, perhaps if there was no "stuff" in the CD, it could be they wanted some kind of first listening experience they wanted to find or look at.
And it could well be that I get a different copy of the CD than regular folk, so who knows what the perps are up to when sending me into a 1.5 hour long "nap attack" at 1700h, the least likely time that I would ever have a nap in normal circumstances. Besides which, they had me clogged and fogged for the rest of the evening in the incessant rain that followed the thunderstorm. I didn't need the nap anyhow, as I was getting sufficient sleep all week.
07-21-2013, Saturday
A 10 hour sleep overnight, again, not needing it; 8 hours a night is normal, and besides, that nap attack of yesterday should of kept me current with my sleep needs.
No work today, per normal schedule, and still an adjustment after the last four years of farm jobs that went 6 or 7 days/week. I usually went 6 days per week, and then attended to all manner of loose ends at the First Feral Family house, as there were always things to do. Or, the perps would create extra ones, like the deer invasion, and having me erect steel mesh or chicken wire to create defenses or to protect individual crops or plants. And the perps do like to have wire mesh selectively arranged in various places and circumstances.
Much downstairs pounding and clunking when finishing up on the infuriating process of creating an RMA (Returned Materials Aurthorization -fancy for returning warrantied goods) for a PC hard drive, yet again. I got drives with five year warranties last time (2009), and the perps are making sure they get full value by breaking or damaging them. These are WD "Caviar" drives and said to be the best for durability, and lo, if this isn't the second one of the batch of four that I got in 2009. And adding those plus an apparent "failure"; as it "happened" to be a cable to the WD drive that seemed like the drive at first. Another one of those FUD-E fakeouts (FUD = Fear, Uncertainty, Doubt, and the E, added for this ten year true life horror story only, is for Error- the perps just love to create mistaken cause determinations). Pronounced as "Fuddy", as in Fuddy Duddies, another name for the Supreme Psychopaths of the Fourth Reich or whatever else one has for the THEMs.
And they didn't make it easy to create an RMA either, scrambling me as to whether I had an existing account and password, then screwing me around with an incorrect address that I could not fix no matter the multiple submissions I made. A 5 minute no-brainer exercise becomes a 15 minute abusive cognitive screwover with infuriating quirks of the online forms. Add in spurious error messages, erroneous error messages, no error messages, cognitive clobbering and the rest of the mind-fuck games, and it becomes an infuriating but orchestrated hell. Every possible thing, from opening a page of a book and anything more complex than that becomes an onerous undertaking that begets loathing from the outset, and usually infuriation along with it.
That I was drinking Limonata, a yellow citrus carbonated beverage, at the same time of the above stinking non-audible rage show (RMA creation) which is surely calculated as part of the perp games. Surely they have covertly monitored someone doing the same by now.
Anothe "shit refugee" visit to the mall, this time having no choice as to the stall as they had two occupied and one shitted up. They even changed out one of my co-shitting stall neighbors to get three of them in concurrent defecation mode. Plus, I had muzak playing in the background, lots of banter from the adjacent hallway, and even a whistling bathroom user. Come to think of it, it makes perfect sense to start this "shit refugee" status, as how else would they control/increase the background noise/music so consistently and have concurrent shit-stalkers?
And a 5x skinhead reprising gangstalker on my ass for the above visit; passing by (2x) to the bathroom, he "shows up" twice more when I was in the LD store next, and he did no shopping there, and is there to lead me out of the mall into the bright sunlight. If I don't like the sight of certain people, aka the Unfavored (skinheads as one of the many such demographic groups), I don't see why it is a 10+ year long relentless and psychopathically abusive and staged whole life Fuckover show to find out why I don't like them. I just don't like the sight of male bald heads, and I don't know why either. And no doubt it might have something to do with the 3 years of childhood that have been deleted from my recall, (1956 to 1960), where the depredators would know what I saw, and thereby having exclusive knowledge of my experiences then. As I spent two years in Montreal then, and other abuse victims from Dr. Ewan Cameron's Mind Trashing Experiments (see The Sleep Room), report that experimental subjects were shaved of all head hair, and had tattoos to delineate regions or persistent reference marks. And I don't like tattoos one bit either, and of course that too is a significant gangstalker subpopulation of the Unfavored demographic groups.
An eruption of roomie noise and the caged birds as I pay three bills online. Seemingly trivial events, but as I get noise/gangstalked at every financial transaction of every kind (e.g. mailed check, online, coin machine, bus fare etc.), it is important to the Thems. Now the roomie, a raw foodist, launched into juicing, so the energetics of plant pulping get added to this psychic (and/or other) energy mix.
And no doubt the recent months' spending spree was detailed into Quicken, that too is exciting for the perps and their financial transaction stalking interest. How about leaving me the fuck alone, as I have been abused enough, don't you think?
Another malingering male at the counter ahead of me at the sewing alterations shop. This was the occasion of retrieving my fixed briefcase, the one that had a double zipper malfunction at the conventionally unlikely onset of short term college training course, two years apart. Get it?
And in this roomie house, it was putting up a clothesline that became a three person project, the raw foodist heavy on the dumbshit suggestions. My ex was like this, and every so often I get stuck with someone who plants incessant stupid ideas. Now, the dumbshit idea role goes to the raw foodist roomie. And she had her big hair cut down to near butch proportions; many regular stalkers get radical hair cuts from time to time. I have no idea why, except it serves some kind of scale-proportion quest the perps obsess about.
A wind-up for Saturday, and I will post this though the perps won't let me review it all.
Showing posts with label coffee mess. Show all posts
Showing posts with label coffee mess. Show all posts
Saturday, July 21, 2012
Saturday, July 07, 2012
Volvo Modfications
07-01-2012
A laid back Sunday day off, and only until now (1530h) do I feel at a loose end. I got taken down almost immediately after lunch for a two hour nap-attack. I didn't need the sleep at all, but for some reason they wanted me prone and sleeping. And some will say, more psychically accessible too. Could well be as the perps like to time other's in my proximity to having naps.
And then there is the Volvo nonsense witnessed for the second time this week. An 850 sedan was hit from behind and underneath, possibly from a lower bumper, and dented the trunk and raised it up about 3" to 5". They put it on show (parked) when I drive by each day on my way to work, arranging it in profile, seen from the side with the raised (whole) rear trunk. Now it is no question I like the look of that Volvo model, sedan or wagon, and I would of bought one if I could of found one the time I was vehicle shopping in April. But it wasn't to be, a mid-grey Toyota Camry instead and it has done me well so far. Said damaged Volvo was on the vehicular gangstalking circuit this morning when I was headed off for shopping, driveable with its rear trunk damage. All I can assume from this arranged nonsense is that they wanted me to see this particular vehicle with its rear end misaligned, and the whole rear body line out of whack. As for why, I don't know, but the perps consistently test my vehicle form/look reactions, and when a vehicle looks attractive and when not. Of course there are no end of variations, as vehicle models change from year to year, and it does seem they focus on rear end looks of late (the last year). Anyhow, there isn't a Vovlo dealer in town, and not many of them, so it just seems to be this sideline that the perps persist in for whatever reason.
I went to yoga this morning, a drop-in class, and I see they are populating it with more dudes, now four from a previous one. The usual heavy breathing/wheezing dude wasn't in class, but strangely he was walking past carrying his umbrella in the then-torrential rain. It is not uncommon for the perps to plant someone in close and have them progressively back off. I his case it was next to me in the first class, half a room away in the second class, a whole room away in the third, and now, this fourth time, he only passed by the building when I "happened' to arrive.
A new blonde instructor today, in keeping with the perp's instructor swapping games. And the infernal tattos were on display; one particular horrid all-arm and partial torso tattoo on a woman was two persons away. The woman in between us was on partial blocking duty so I wouldn't see this disgusting tattoo in full. The to the L side, the woman next to me had some smaller inside arm tattoos, and a woman four mats away wore a shirt that looked like tattoo patterns (skin color, with deep blue markings on it). Again, we have the perps and their infinite abusive insanity pissing around and setting up tattoos, partially blocking them, and tattoo emulations. All because I don't care for tattoos, and whose business is that? My own one would think, but no, it is a ten year long insane abusive tyranny they have imposed to find ot why I loathe tattoos (among other things).
And speaking of loathings, aka the Unfavored, this one residential block of houses has sprang three HD motorcycles in the last week, all of them on show as some kind of prop the perps want me to see. I don't care for their noise one bit, but for the most part they are arranged for me to see. One overwrought chromed motorcycle, two houses away, was parked on the front yard this morning when I set off for yoga. Presumably it was there all night, as that is where it was last evening. And I know from motorcycle owners that its prominent display is essentially asking for it to be stolen as they are much coveted if in good condition, which this one is. And as the perps have also been insanely beserk over arranging motorcycles around me for over ten years, knowing I loathe the HD noise, why are they doing this? Perhaps if they allowed me to retain the deleted memories they did when aged 2 to 5 y.o., I might know. So on this national Canada Day holiday/long weekend, you are hearby informed that some citizens are not allowed to have recollections as to what abuses (I assume) were done to them. A free country, my ass. And or that matter, perhaps the world.
The new roomie is a 50+ y.o oversized woman doing an internet businesss directory for this city (apparently). And she has wasted no time in hanging around me in the kitchen, "happening" to be there at 0635h when I was there having breakfast. And again when I came back from yoga, the perps conveniently fucking me out of putting my laundry in the dryer before yoga and forcing another kitchen visit. Soo... nothing new there, per expectation.
07-02-2012
A day of tucking shoots on the vineyard; just tucking, not other major work like thining them out, except for the obvious ones. And since then, the perps have been playing flashbacks of shoots in my visual field, about every ten seconds or so. And especially when screaming infuriated at the assholes preventing me from quartering the quesadilla I made for dinner. Not that it was audible, but they had me just as annoyed if I had.
I have been shoot tucking for the past three weeks and never had flashbacks of shoots to any degree until today. Perhaps it was the added harassment that they thought would be a synergistic screwover; read on.
And all day long, the perps played irritable bowel syndrome on me, creating various unpleasant sensations without any visible result. What a way to spend the Monday of a long weekend, equivalent to July 04 in the US. This was relieved at day end by being the "shit refugee" and unloading at the washrooms in the mall. The usual extra gangstalking activity around me, including some dipshit bag who almost piled into me when I was exiting. My "lead me there" gangstalker also "happened" to be ahead of me when I exited. No doubt shit resonance between me and the gangstalker assholes is very much part of the agenda. And too, having me eat extra chocolate these days.
07-03-2012
The daily crumb inundation went over the top this morning. I get crumbs around me all the time, from a putative source, but far in excess of the conventional normal (before all this harassment began). The last roomie was a classic; he had toast most mornings and there were at least 50 crumbs around the toaster. He was engaged with a pissing match with the landlady, so he felt he didn't need to clean them up. And so the sat there all day until the landlady cleaned them up.
Today's crumb-fucking games took on a new turn, as they were teleported in just to bug me. I was at the sink, cleaning dishes and had just finished up when three orange carrot crumbs arrived from nowhere. They were aligned in one direction, roughly N-S, and spanned a length of 1.5". One crumb was on the yellow formica countertop, the middle crumb was on the exact location the steel kitchen sink flange met the countertop, and the third crumb was on the steel sink flange. So here we are, ten years into this insane relentless abuse, and the Fuckwits are arranging carrot crumbs by way of teleportational fuckery. Seemingly, this doesn't bother them one bit, to be viewed as totally idiotic rampaging juveniles with extra conventional powers.
Then the UPS imbroiglio/impasse took another turn; the local UPS store wouldn't take my parcel because it had COD charges on it. Like WTF; they have my parcel, and they would be charging me the COD charges when I pick it up, so what is the deal? I asked where it is and how can I pick it up and the woman UPS representative said she had no idea. I thought Loomis' non-service was outrageous, but this bullshit takes the cake.
And I see that UPS did deliver another separate parcel today, so maybe the perps needed me to go to the brown store to then "resonate with" (for lack of better term) brown cardboard at the UPS store. Or as a "warm up" for my visit to the UPS store tomorrrow, as they gave me the option to pay for the COD charge over the phone, which I did. Which begs the question, why didn't they tell me about this byzantine bureaucracy the first time I asked the parcel be re-directed to the local UPS store? And when I phoned the UPS store in advance of the parcel re-direction, why didn't they ask if there was COD charges on the parcel? All this erupted because the "hold for pickup" choice told me after the fact that the parcel would be held in another city 1.5 hours drive away. Just call it more parcel delivery obstruction, and it may be related to the "browning around" games that have gone on since the start of this abusive fuckery 04-2002.
And when will UPS finally get it, and not go through this ritualistic nonsense of delivering when I know I won't be there to accept it? Have an option when ordering items to permit hold for pickup instead of this constant nonsense of attempting delivery when it is in not doable. I just don't get it, save the "browning around" behavior directed by the perps. And it is always curious that I get extra parcel delivery van gangstalking after each time I recieve a parcel.
07-04-2012
The coffee grounds mess on the stove got me cranked up, though not audibly out of respect(?) for the roommate situation here. I was spooning fresh grounds into the pot, and lo, if somehow, a two pea sized amount didn't self eject from the top of the spoonful and land on the stove. No hand movement of any kind contributed to this near-instant coffee mess, and no shakey hands either. Typically they will force my hand to move as the apparent cause of the coffee mess, but not this time. Just plain assed teleportational abuse.
Another day of tucking vines in the vineyard, just it, and no other activities like shoot thining, leaf removal, lateral removal and top clipping. The sun was out, and eventualy it became warm, though not too warm. We are due for a week of sunshine after a soggy June, running to July 03.
I suppose yesterday's rain was the culmination of perp games, as the rain forced me to use my raingear for the first time in a month, as it had come back from the drycleaner's five days ago, and we know how the perps like to piss with laundering and all its variants. Hopefully the summer will get to normal, though I not optomistic even if they pulled a bad summer last year in this region. Many of the red grape varietals never got picked because they didn't have sufficient sugar.
As a nice send off for the day, the perps ensured I ended up with dog shit on my L.boot, the first 2" toe portion. So another delay in departing, never mind getting the smell jammed up my nose.
Then the now-usual shit-at-the-mall on the way home, me as a shit refugee as they don't like me to do it at home. My shit-stalkers arrived either side of me while in the cubicles, plus other noises. This time I was lead there by two young girls in same blue t-shirt and black short shorts. Much better that the granny parade I seem to get.
07-05-2012
More vine tucking today, and all day. All six acres has been tucked twice now. Sunshine in the am when I had my shirt off, but intermittent in the afternoon when I had my shorts on (shirt on again). Plenty of noise eruptions when I put on sunscreen as usual, and when changing clothes. Yesterday was cleaning day at the house, and at about 1000h when I went to put on shorts, why, egress to the bathroom was blocked by the very large cleaning lady. (Same one who was doing bend-over games about a month ago in similar circumstances). So where to change? Why, outside on the covered veranda area with a commanding view of Skaha Lake and the mountains behind.
And it was my very first day as a "iTune-out", one of those farmworkers (or any person) listening to personal music while working. After the weeks long pissing match to get FLAC files playing on my wretched Android phone, it has finally culminated in playing music while I work. These are over-the-headphones, and so some conflict with wearing a hat too, as yet unresolved. (Worse yet, I could wear a ball cap to have my ears accessible to the headphone. I loathe ear buds). IT wasn't as simple as that of course; two female vocalists were given short play, but the male blues-zydeco singer was given full album length play. And the rotation order was messed up
The vineyard neighborhood noise has taken a new turn. The adjacent larger vineyard has had its equipment shack demolishined, two white shipping containers arranged at roadside for lockable storage, and they are busy putting in foundations and forms. In other words, the very common farm neighborhood noise I call "tap attacks" has semi-legitimate causal. This construction work is the putative reason, but each time I hear the 1x/second tap of a hammer I have to laugh, as what self-respecting builder would be so slow in hammering, and is still using a hammer when air nailers are the construction norm. Yes, I know a hammer can add the right amount of force to move an object (e.g. foundations), but the slow methodical once per second tapping noise has followed me for every farm I have worked in for the last five years. Most often there is no evident construction at all.
Still not out of the Android woods yet; the Songbird player started up by itself when the PowerAmp app was playing. Quite the feat, two music players sounding off at once.
And the essential fatty acids diet testing is still running; after over a month of taking four fish oil capsules at the first break, and four more at lunch, Mon. to Fri., why, the perps had me "forget" all about it when making up lunch this morning. No good habit goes unsabotaged, even if they groom on the habit in the first place.
Stinging eye torture while driving back, causing me to change my intinery. Instead of visiting UPS store to sort out their imposed imbroiglie, I went to the share house to take a shower. When turning off the highway they obliterated my vision for a few seconds and then some horrid indescribable brain scrambling irradiations while turning off the highway. They pulled this abuse sequence once before and all I can say is that is absolutely immobilizing, worse yet, while driving in traffic.
07-06-2012
I am 58 today, and look younger than 38. Lines that formed when I was 33 y.o. are now gone. Most of the age regression was done in 2004, though they have been at it again in the last year.
A hot day on the vineyard, mostly sunny, and maybe summer has come at long last after a double average rainfall for June. I was doing more shoot tucking, putting the shoots between the trellis wires to contain them in a vertical plan. Also called the Vertical Shoot Positioning (VSP) training system, although it requires much human effort to get the shoots vertical, as they are prone to spill and flop in any direction.
I got to listen to music from my Android mostly without a problem, but there has been some unconventional player behavior to keep me wary that it can fuck up at any moment, e.g. getting a new album instead of the next song. Today I was playing the Eva Cassidy playlist I have, some 78 songs that kept me going for much the morning. The perp control drift is that they want me to listen for 2 to 3 hours but not the full work day. This afternoon without the player or headphones they applied the sensation that the headphones were on my head, but they weren't. In other words, they could remotely detect the particular sensation of this new headphone pair (less than a week old) when listening to music, and then replay this identical sensation later when they weren't on my head. All I had to do was to move my head quickly in a (seeming) random direction and the sensation diminished. Once my head was reasonably still again they re-applied this same headphone wearing sensation. A Happy birthday treat from the Psychopathic Confederacy.
Other perp applied BS was to keep me in a depressive state for much of today, and it is still going on. The games of promoting a certain product to purchase and then not finding it continues. For 2.5 years they have on this breakfast diet of coconut butter, which is delicious and beats out the rest of the nut butters combined. Artisana coconut butter is the best IMO, and I have had it on hand all the time, even in this new town. But now two stores are out of it, one with no alternate coconut butter brands. How fucking tiresome they are not only setting me up for the dashed expectations game (item not there), but also manipulating the source of my food supply. Just the usual, and they are still at it in ten years of insane sustained abuse, and a prior 48 years of covert life-long fuckery. What is this all about?
Speaking of which, why are some TI's getting a reprieve from harassment, and even know how long this hiatus will last. I have had the odd reprieve, for a few hours, no more than six times in this wretched existence they have imposed.
I had about 15 helicopter and aircraft flybys today, a little more than usual. To be fair, there is the Penticton Airport two miles away, but at least three aircraft made pointless circles or arcs overhead. They seem to like it that the helicopter underbelly light is on and it "happens" to be seen by me in mid-turn. A small jet came and did a 180 degree turnoverhead and then took off in the direction it came. Most odd to say the least, and it appeared not to be landing at the airport, especially having just come from that direction.
Last week they must of teleported a small aircraft some 200m away; it came out from behind a rocky knoll, not more than 50m clearance, in a climb. The interesting part was pondering how it got there, as there is a powerline behind the knoll. The pilot either took exceptionally foolish chances to make this low pass, or else he and aircraft were teleported at the point of climbing out of this hole behind the knoll. I never heard it coming in behind the knoll, so that is why it was a teleportation job. I see teleported insects, debris, vine leaves and tendrils in front of me all day long, and for the most part I have no idea as to how they got there, or in my way. Or else, they are blanking me out at the moment the object conventionally flips/slides/hops into view, and it appears suddenly to my remotely impaired perception. In fact, I think they are doing some of each, and there is some essential cosmic energetic difference that they are looking for via controlling all my neural cognition.
07-07-2012
A later get-up as it is Saturday, and no vineyard work today. The perps had me tired and in a blue funk yesterday evening, so no plans as to what to do, save a haircut and leg wax this afternoon.
Birthday wishes via phone call from my Victoria farmworker colleague last night; the ever chipper and don't-want-to-know platitudes again. This is the only person who puts themself out to make sustained contact, and it is forced to say the least. There is no way the perps would allow continued contact to persist over 1.5 years without their blessing/collusion. And that starts the guessing games; is she for real (a co-opted local with the right things wrong with them), a scripted operative, or a morphed-over version of someone else I would know, say Ms. C from the story. And as usual, I don't know, and don't care but am not allowed to have the luxury of independent thought, and this wretched unresolvable topic comes up far more than it would if I weren't in the grasp of the techno-Fourth Reich.
Laundry coincidences again; the downstairs tenant has moved out and his bedsheets were laundered by the landlady and draped over the garden chairs in the backyard to dry. And it just happens to be the day that I launder my bedsheets for the first time in this shared residence. And no less, is the inaugural use of a new laundry detergent, somehow "needing" to move away from the usual Woolite.
The haircut and full leg wax treatment again. This time the wax from two blondes; the one last time with a faint-ish unnatural red streak was updated with a 2" wide bold red swath to the roots. The other a seeming trainee was a yellow straw blonde.
The one who cut my hair was a reddish-brown with silver foil in her hair, as part of a treatment she was doing. I have seen it before, but cannot claim to know what it is for. Then three identical colored, sized and built negroes were on the other side of the hair cutting station. First there was one, and he did a pose through the divider in a grey singlet and shorts, and within a minute he seemed to be wearing a yellow top. Unexpected clothing changes aren't anything new to me, and that is what I thought it was. But no, within a minute it was revealed that there were two, with the same hair. Later another same negro "happens" to end up in the pose mode, this time with dreads. The way it seemed it was a triple negro haircut show at the same station. Later, while in the waxing area, they were doing restless full store-width walks for whatever reason. They were there for 40 min. or so, until the three of them walked out in file, identically sized and built, even more than brothers. As to who and why this negro show was arranged I have no idea, but as they are extremely rare here, and were all the same sized and height, I can only assume this was arranged for me to see their colorful outfits at various distances and also through the semi-transparent curtain of the waxing area.
And lo, when I exited the building after my waxing, why, another negro standing around on the sidewalk and looking stupid, as would any highly conspicuous gangstalker. Maybe it was for daylit conditions, and he in the shade of an awning of an abandoned building.
Enough of the Unfavored and and the ridiculous show that continues around me seeming to invoke abreactions that may have arisen in the memory blanked years, aged two to five. Not my problem if I have subconscious recall reactions to adverse treatment and abuse. As mentioned many times, the Indian Lake Project has pictures of children stuffed in cages, some negro, some blind, some Caucasian. The timing of this abuse at the hands of military personnel fits the same memory blanked years, so who knows, but the Perps, aka, Fourth Reich. Not until more of the pics are posted can I hope to know, and that could be a long time yet, given the owner is under surveillance with the black helicopter visitation and a dead rat on his newspaper outside the front door.
So to post this now.
A laid back Sunday day off, and only until now (1530h) do I feel at a loose end. I got taken down almost immediately after lunch for a two hour nap-attack. I didn't need the sleep at all, but for some reason they wanted me prone and sleeping. And some will say, more psychically accessible too. Could well be as the perps like to time other's in my proximity to having naps.
And then there is the Volvo nonsense witnessed for the second time this week. An 850 sedan was hit from behind and underneath, possibly from a lower bumper, and dented the trunk and raised it up about 3" to 5". They put it on show (parked) when I drive by each day on my way to work, arranging it in profile, seen from the side with the raised (whole) rear trunk. Now it is no question I like the look of that Volvo model, sedan or wagon, and I would of bought one if I could of found one the time I was vehicle shopping in April. But it wasn't to be, a mid-grey Toyota Camry instead and it has done me well so far. Said damaged Volvo was on the vehicular gangstalking circuit this morning when I was headed off for shopping, driveable with its rear trunk damage. All I can assume from this arranged nonsense is that they wanted me to see this particular vehicle with its rear end misaligned, and the whole rear body line out of whack. As for why, I don't know, but the perps consistently test my vehicle form/look reactions, and when a vehicle looks attractive and when not. Of course there are no end of variations, as vehicle models change from year to year, and it does seem they focus on rear end looks of late (the last year). Anyhow, there isn't a Vovlo dealer in town, and not many of them, so it just seems to be this sideline that the perps persist in for whatever reason.
I went to yoga this morning, a drop-in class, and I see they are populating it with more dudes, now four from a previous one. The usual heavy breathing/wheezing dude wasn't in class, but strangely he was walking past carrying his umbrella in the then-torrential rain. It is not uncommon for the perps to plant someone in close and have them progressively back off. I his case it was next to me in the first class, half a room away in the second class, a whole room away in the third, and now, this fourth time, he only passed by the building when I "happened' to arrive.
A new blonde instructor today, in keeping with the perp's instructor swapping games. And the infernal tattos were on display; one particular horrid all-arm and partial torso tattoo on a woman was two persons away. The woman in between us was on partial blocking duty so I wouldn't see this disgusting tattoo in full. The to the L side, the woman next to me had some smaller inside arm tattoos, and a woman four mats away wore a shirt that looked like tattoo patterns (skin color, with deep blue markings on it). Again, we have the perps and their infinite abusive insanity pissing around and setting up tattoos, partially blocking them, and tattoo emulations. All because I don't care for tattoos, and whose business is that? My own one would think, but no, it is a ten year long insane abusive tyranny they have imposed to find ot why I loathe tattoos (among other things).
And speaking of loathings, aka the Unfavored, this one residential block of houses has sprang three HD motorcycles in the last week, all of them on show as some kind of prop the perps want me to see. I don't care for their noise one bit, but for the most part they are arranged for me to see. One overwrought chromed motorcycle, two houses away, was parked on the front yard this morning when I set off for yoga. Presumably it was there all night, as that is where it was last evening. And I know from motorcycle owners that its prominent display is essentially asking for it to be stolen as they are much coveted if in good condition, which this one is. And as the perps have also been insanely beserk over arranging motorcycles around me for over ten years, knowing I loathe the HD noise, why are they doing this? Perhaps if they allowed me to retain the deleted memories they did when aged 2 to 5 y.o., I might know. So on this national Canada Day holiday/long weekend, you are hearby informed that some citizens are not allowed to have recollections as to what abuses (I assume) were done to them. A free country, my ass. And or that matter, perhaps the world.
The new roomie is a 50+ y.o oversized woman doing an internet businesss directory for this city (apparently). And she has wasted no time in hanging around me in the kitchen, "happening" to be there at 0635h when I was there having breakfast. And again when I came back from yoga, the perps conveniently fucking me out of putting my laundry in the dryer before yoga and forcing another kitchen visit. Soo... nothing new there, per expectation.
07-02-2012
A day of tucking shoots on the vineyard; just tucking, not other major work like thining them out, except for the obvious ones. And since then, the perps have been playing flashbacks of shoots in my visual field, about every ten seconds or so. And especially when screaming infuriated at the assholes preventing me from quartering the quesadilla I made for dinner. Not that it was audible, but they had me just as annoyed if I had.
I have been shoot tucking for the past three weeks and never had flashbacks of shoots to any degree until today. Perhaps it was the added harassment that they thought would be a synergistic screwover; read on.
And all day long, the perps played irritable bowel syndrome on me, creating various unpleasant sensations without any visible result. What a way to spend the Monday of a long weekend, equivalent to July 04 in the US. This was relieved at day end by being the "shit refugee" and unloading at the washrooms in the mall. The usual extra gangstalking activity around me, including some dipshit bag who almost piled into me when I was exiting. My "lead me there" gangstalker also "happened" to be ahead of me when I exited. No doubt shit resonance between me and the gangstalker assholes is very much part of the agenda. And too, having me eat extra chocolate these days.
07-03-2012
The daily crumb inundation went over the top this morning. I get crumbs around me all the time, from a putative source, but far in excess of the conventional normal (before all this harassment began). The last roomie was a classic; he had toast most mornings and there were at least 50 crumbs around the toaster. He was engaged with a pissing match with the landlady, so he felt he didn't need to clean them up. And so the sat there all day until the landlady cleaned them up.
Today's crumb-fucking games took on a new turn, as they were teleported in just to bug me. I was at the sink, cleaning dishes and had just finished up when three orange carrot crumbs arrived from nowhere. They were aligned in one direction, roughly N-S, and spanned a length of 1.5". One crumb was on the yellow formica countertop, the middle crumb was on the exact location the steel kitchen sink flange met the countertop, and the third crumb was on the steel sink flange. So here we are, ten years into this insane relentless abuse, and the Fuckwits are arranging carrot crumbs by way of teleportational fuckery. Seemingly, this doesn't bother them one bit, to be viewed as totally idiotic rampaging juveniles with extra conventional powers.
Then the UPS imbroiglio/impasse took another turn; the local UPS store wouldn't take my parcel because it had COD charges on it. Like WTF; they have my parcel, and they would be charging me the COD charges when I pick it up, so what is the deal? I asked where it is and how can I pick it up and the woman UPS representative said she had no idea. I thought Loomis' non-service was outrageous, but this bullshit takes the cake.
And I see that UPS did deliver another separate parcel today, so maybe the perps needed me to go to the brown store to then "resonate with" (for lack of better term) brown cardboard at the UPS store. Or as a "warm up" for my visit to the UPS store tomorrrow, as they gave me the option to pay for the COD charge over the phone, which I did. Which begs the question, why didn't they tell me about this byzantine bureaucracy the first time I asked the parcel be re-directed to the local UPS store? And when I phoned the UPS store in advance of the parcel re-direction, why didn't they ask if there was COD charges on the parcel? All this erupted because the "hold for pickup" choice told me after the fact that the parcel would be held in another city 1.5 hours drive away. Just call it more parcel delivery obstruction, and it may be related to the "browning around" games that have gone on since the start of this abusive fuckery 04-2002.
And when will UPS finally get it, and not go through this ritualistic nonsense of delivering when I know I won't be there to accept it? Have an option when ordering items to permit hold for pickup instead of this constant nonsense of attempting delivery when it is in not doable. I just don't get it, save the "browning around" behavior directed by the perps. And it is always curious that I get extra parcel delivery van gangstalking after each time I recieve a parcel.
07-04-2012
The coffee grounds mess on the stove got me cranked up, though not audibly out of respect(?) for the roommate situation here. I was spooning fresh grounds into the pot, and lo, if somehow, a two pea sized amount didn't self eject from the top of the spoonful and land on the stove. No hand movement of any kind contributed to this near-instant coffee mess, and no shakey hands either. Typically they will force my hand to move as the apparent cause of the coffee mess, but not this time. Just plain assed teleportational abuse.
Another day of tucking vines in the vineyard, just it, and no other activities like shoot thining, leaf removal, lateral removal and top clipping. The sun was out, and eventualy it became warm, though not too warm. We are due for a week of sunshine after a soggy June, running to July 03.
I suppose yesterday's rain was the culmination of perp games, as the rain forced me to use my raingear for the first time in a month, as it had come back from the drycleaner's five days ago, and we know how the perps like to piss with laundering and all its variants. Hopefully the summer will get to normal, though I not optomistic even if they pulled a bad summer last year in this region. Many of the red grape varietals never got picked because they didn't have sufficient sugar.
As a nice send off for the day, the perps ensured I ended up with dog shit on my L.boot, the first 2" toe portion. So another delay in departing, never mind getting the smell jammed up my nose.
Then the now-usual shit-at-the-mall on the way home, me as a shit refugee as they don't like me to do it at home. My shit-stalkers arrived either side of me while in the cubicles, plus other noises. This time I was lead there by two young girls in same blue t-shirt and black short shorts. Much better that the granny parade I seem to get.
07-05-2012
More vine tucking today, and all day. All six acres has been tucked twice now. Sunshine in the am when I had my shirt off, but intermittent in the afternoon when I had my shorts on (shirt on again). Plenty of noise eruptions when I put on sunscreen as usual, and when changing clothes. Yesterday was cleaning day at the house, and at about 1000h when I went to put on shorts, why, egress to the bathroom was blocked by the very large cleaning lady. (Same one who was doing bend-over games about a month ago in similar circumstances). So where to change? Why, outside on the covered veranda area with a commanding view of Skaha Lake and the mountains behind.
And it was my very first day as a "iTune-out", one of those farmworkers (or any person) listening to personal music while working. After the weeks long pissing match to get FLAC files playing on my wretched Android phone, it has finally culminated in playing music while I work. These are over-the-headphones, and so some conflict with wearing a hat too, as yet unresolved. (Worse yet, I could wear a ball cap to have my ears accessible to the headphone. I loathe ear buds). IT wasn't as simple as that of course; two female vocalists were given short play, but the male blues-zydeco singer was given full album length play. And the rotation order was messed up
The vineyard neighborhood noise has taken a new turn. The adjacent larger vineyard has had its equipment shack demolishined, two white shipping containers arranged at roadside for lockable storage, and they are busy putting in foundations and forms. In other words, the very common farm neighborhood noise I call "tap attacks" has semi-legitimate causal. This construction work is the putative reason, but each time I hear the 1x/second tap of a hammer I have to laugh, as what self-respecting builder would be so slow in hammering, and is still using a hammer when air nailers are the construction norm. Yes, I know a hammer can add the right amount of force to move an object (e.g. foundations), but the slow methodical once per second tapping noise has followed me for every farm I have worked in for the last five years. Most often there is no evident construction at all.
Still not out of the Android woods yet; the Songbird player started up by itself when the PowerAmp app was playing. Quite the feat, two music players sounding off at once.
And the essential fatty acids diet testing is still running; after over a month of taking four fish oil capsules at the first break, and four more at lunch, Mon. to Fri., why, the perps had me "forget" all about it when making up lunch this morning. No good habit goes unsabotaged, even if they groom on the habit in the first place.
Stinging eye torture while driving back, causing me to change my intinery. Instead of visiting UPS store to sort out their imposed imbroiglie, I went to the share house to take a shower. When turning off the highway they obliterated my vision for a few seconds and then some horrid indescribable brain scrambling irradiations while turning off the highway. They pulled this abuse sequence once before and all I can say is that is absolutely immobilizing, worse yet, while driving in traffic.
07-06-2012
I am 58 today, and look younger than 38. Lines that formed when I was 33 y.o. are now gone. Most of the age regression was done in 2004, though they have been at it again in the last year.
A hot day on the vineyard, mostly sunny, and maybe summer has come at long last after a double average rainfall for June. I was doing more shoot tucking, putting the shoots between the trellis wires to contain them in a vertical plan. Also called the Vertical Shoot Positioning (VSP) training system, although it requires much human effort to get the shoots vertical, as they are prone to spill and flop in any direction.
I got to listen to music from my Android mostly without a problem, but there has been some unconventional player behavior to keep me wary that it can fuck up at any moment, e.g. getting a new album instead of the next song. Today I was playing the Eva Cassidy playlist I have, some 78 songs that kept me going for much the morning. The perp control drift is that they want me to listen for 2 to 3 hours but not the full work day. This afternoon without the player or headphones they applied the sensation that the headphones were on my head, but they weren't. In other words, they could remotely detect the particular sensation of this new headphone pair (less than a week old) when listening to music, and then replay this identical sensation later when they weren't on my head. All I had to do was to move my head quickly in a (seeming) random direction and the sensation diminished. Once my head was reasonably still again they re-applied this same headphone wearing sensation. A Happy birthday treat from the Psychopathic Confederacy.
Other perp applied BS was to keep me in a depressive state for much of today, and it is still going on. The games of promoting a certain product to purchase and then not finding it continues. For 2.5 years they have on this breakfast diet of coconut butter, which is delicious and beats out the rest of the nut butters combined. Artisana coconut butter is the best IMO, and I have had it on hand all the time, even in this new town. But now two stores are out of it, one with no alternate coconut butter brands. How fucking tiresome they are not only setting me up for the dashed expectations game (item not there), but also manipulating the source of my food supply. Just the usual, and they are still at it in ten years of insane sustained abuse, and a prior 48 years of covert life-long fuckery. What is this all about?
Speaking of which, why are some TI's getting a reprieve from harassment, and even know how long this hiatus will last. I have had the odd reprieve, for a few hours, no more than six times in this wretched existence they have imposed.
I had about 15 helicopter and aircraft flybys today, a little more than usual. To be fair, there is the Penticton Airport two miles away, but at least three aircraft made pointless circles or arcs overhead. They seem to like it that the helicopter underbelly light is on and it "happens" to be seen by me in mid-turn. A small jet came and did a 180 degree turnoverhead and then took off in the direction it came. Most odd to say the least, and it appeared not to be landing at the airport, especially having just come from that direction.
Last week they must of teleported a small aircraft some 200m away; it came out from behind a rocky knoll, not more than 50m clearance, in a climb. The interesting part was pondering how it got there, as there is a powerline behind the knoll. The pilot either took exceptionally foolish chances to make this low pass, or else he and aircraft were teleported at the point of climbing out of this hole behind the knoll. I never heard it coming in behind the knoll, so that is why it was a teleportation job. I see teleported insects, debris, vine leaves and tendrils in front of me all day long, and for the most part I have no idea as to how they got there, or in my way. Or else, they are blanking me out at the moment the object conventionally flips/slides/hops into view, and it appears suddenly to my remotely impaired perception. In fact, I think they are doing some of each, and there is some essential cosmic energetic difference that they are looking for via controlling all my neural cognition.
07-07-2012
A later get-up as it is Saturday, and no vineyard work today. The perps had me tired and in a blue funk yesterday evening, so no plans as to what to do, save a haircut and leg wax this afternoon.
Birthday wishes via phone call from my Victoria farmworker colleague last night; the ever chipper and don't-want-to-know platitudes again. This is the only person who puts themself out to make sustained contact, and it is forced to say the least. There is no way the perps would allow continued contact to persist over 1.5 years without their blessing/collusion. And that starts the guessing games; is she for real (a co-opted local with the right things wrong with them), a scripted operative, or a morphed-over version of someone else I would know, say Ms. C from the story. And as usual, I don't know, and don't care but am not allowed to have the luxury of independent thought, and this wretched unresolvable topic comes up far more than it would if I weren't in the grasp of the techno-Fourth Reich.
Laundry coincidences again; the downstairs tenant has moved out and his bedsheets were laundered by the landlady and draped over the garden chairs in the backyard to dry. And it just happens to be the day that I launder my bedsheets for the first time in this shared residence. And no less, is the inaugural use of a new laundry detergent, somehow "needing" to move away from the usual Woolite.
The haircut and full leg wax treatment again. This time the wax from two blondes; the one last time with a faint-ish unnatural red streak was updated with a 2" wide bold red swath to the roots. The other a seeming trainee was a yellow straw blonde.
The one who cut my hair was a reddish-brown with silver foil in her hair, as part of a treatment she was doing. I have seen it before, but cannot claim to know what it is for. Then three identical colored, sized and built negroes were on the other side of the hair cutting station. First there was one, and he did a pose through the divider in a grey singlet and shorts, and within a minute he seemed to be wearing a yellow top. Unexpected clothing changes aren't anything new to me, and that is what I thought it was. But no, within a minute it was revealed that there were two, with the same hair. Later another same negro "happens" to end up in the pose mode, this time with dreads. The way it seemed it was a triple negro haircut show at the same station. Later, while in the waxing area, they were doing restless full store-width walks for whatever reason. They were there for 40 min. or so, until the three of them walked out in file, identically sized and built, even more than brothers. As to who and why this negro show was arranged I have no idea, but as they are extremely rare here, and were all the same sized and height, I can only assume this was arranged for me to see their colorful outfits at various distances and also through the semi-transparent curtain of the waxing area.
And lo, when I exited the building after my waxing, why, another negro standing around on the sidewalk and looking stupid, as would any highly conspicuous gangstalker. Maybe it was for daylit conditions, and he in the shade of an awning of an abandoned building.
Enough of the Unfavored and and the ridiculous show that continues around me seeming to invoke abreactions that may have arisen in the memory blanked years, aged two to five. Not my problem if I have subconscious recall reactions to adverse treatment and abuse. As mentioned many times, the Indian Lake Project has pictures of children stuffed in cages, some negro, some blind, some Caucasian. The timing of this abuse at the hands of military personnel fits the same memory blanked years, so who knows, but the Perps, aka, Fourth Reich. Not until more of the pics are posted can I hope to know, and that could be a long time yet, given the owner is under surveillance with the black helicopter visitation and a dead rat on his newspaper outside the front door.
So to post this now.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Lunch then Rain
1320h
There seems to be something big going down today, harassment-wise, but it is hard to put a finger on what it is. It started out with the perps dumping a teaspoon of ground coffee from the just-opened package of coffee (and putting on adversity in opening it and finally cutting off the mangled top of it), dumping it on the stovetop, burner, floor, oven handle and down under the burner in the catch pan. Just plain gratuitous coffee mess, their trademark, as they didn't bother to shake my hand that was holding the spoon or anything like that. Anyhow, only a short rage-ification over that, their brown color games starting up.
After breakfast and when in the bathroom and shaving (always a prime Fuckover activity), they started up the door closing thudding, lock clatter and the squeaky door noise from the hallway, at least ten iterations, and then posted dude talk on the other side of the wall, again from the hallway. Anyhow, when this was all over and I was changing into clothes and putting on my watch, I see it is 1030h. I woke up at 0700h this morning according to the clock, and at most it would of been 0930h. I checked the time on the kitchen stove clock, and then online, and it was in fact 1030h. So... some asshole dialed my alarm clock by an hour in the night, as I had been using it to get up at 0500h for the recent daffodil picking job.
My intown brother phoned during breakfast to respond to the phone message I left him yesterday, about pruning his front bushes, a job that got screwed around last weekend because he hid the extension cords.(He was away in Thailand for a month and I looked after his cat while away, back a week). I said I would come over, and the usual arrangement is that I know where the key is, and find my own way around due to his intinerant garage sale habit. I get dressed in my garden work clothes, and aim to get a bus in short order, and then a sudden need to crap comes on. I duly comply, and then find out the perps plastered my ass in shit in one of the most unusal messes to date, in all nine years of being harassed over taking a shit. So more delay, to take a shower to clean up, and it seems there is plenty of perp mileage in having me remove clothes in short order, after about 20 minutes of wearing them. So... I get set again to take a later bus, and head out into Gangstalk Land, my name for the streets of Victoria BC.
The usual proliferation of high arm swinging gangstalkers are out in place, though not too wierd, and then I am 60' from the bus stop when two dudes arrive 12' in front of me, and don't bother to make room on the sidewalk, which is at least 10' wide, and lo, if there isn't a constriction in the sidewalk due to a panel sign from the adjacent business, and this fucker still doesn' make any room on the sidewalk. His buddy is, and is smirking away, but the dude closest pretends he doesn't have a clue how utterly fucking rude he is, and still doesn't get it when I ask that he move over, waiting for him to go past as I am impeded by the street sign panel (painted plywood). Like WTF; this fucking dude-rudeness is suddenly getting worse, and I have yet to be convinced it doesn't spell orchestrated threat simulation.
Anyhow, the bus comes on time for once, and I was on the city bus freakshow, true enough, there were some odd ducks on board who didn't need to go far, and it always seems most odd that they don't walk instead for all the overhead time it takes to get a bus, (planning per schedule and waiting). I get my usual escort off the bus, this time two women, and lo, if one doesn't pull the identical stunt at the same location as the last time I was there; she is walking on my usual route, so I cross the road and walk on the other side, and lo, if she doesn't jaywalk 30' further and crosses the road to end up on my tail, and lo, if there isn't another fucker coming toward me at that moment, carrying the obligatory cigarette.
It is starting to rain, and as it "happens" (nothing never happens due to random chance in my existence) said brother is driving by and stops to give me a lift to his place. He says the rain is seeming to come to stay, and it isn't the transitory shower, and I agree, and say that I will hang out at his place, and have lunch there (if that is OK with him), and he says it is fine. I also mentioned that I need to go over the timesheet I sent him by email, the record of the cat care in his absence. Fine, and I see he found two extension cords, one plugged in, and had my gumboots sitting outside next to the electric pruning clippers. Funny that for a person so pressed for time that he spends it getting me ready for the pruning job.
All this at 1100h or so, and he tells me all about his holiday in Thailand and what it was like, and what travelling was like and the rest of it, at least an hour's worth. All this time I was listening to him, and then later we went over the spreadsheet I sent him and agreed on the cat care hours. I have lunch there, listening to what he was saying, and just when finishing up he says he has to go and soon, due to garage sale commitments. Fine, I say, I will depart on my own steam and lock up, as it is still raining outside, precluding any pruning work. Then he says he would drive me to a certain location on his intended route that I don't need to go to, and I turn down his offer. Then he suggests another location, which again, is contrary to my intended return direction. Then he finally says he would drive me to Esquimalt and Head street where I catch the bus, and I accept the offer.
Getting in the van turns out to be another First Feral Family stunt; getting in, and recalling that he "forgot" something, going back inside, dithering around at the door, and then pulling the electrical cord from the socket, and finally getting back in. In every instance of having vehicle rides with the FFF, they all started up this constant bullshit of delaying vehicle entry, protracting it or else getting out again, all of them. On the way there I ask him why he has frozen and canned salmon in the vehicle, his trades van, and he says it is for someone. Like WTF; I just had some of his canned salmon for lunch, as did he, and here is taking some along for a mysterious "someone". As we approach Esquimalt Rd where the bus route is, one crosses by 60' ahead at the traffic light controlled intersection. I tell my brother not to go silly over attempting to get me on it, as the buses run every ten minutes and I can wait out another. But he decides that he would, and with a left turn lane and a through lane ahead of him, he takes the through lane, when turning left would of got me to the bus still sitting in the bus stop. But instead of going straight through, per traffic lane markings, he makes a left instead, pulling an all-star perp dumbshit stunt like I have seen them do on occasion. He then pulls ahead of the bus stop, and he tells me it is still there as passengers are still boarding, looking in the mirror, and I bail out, and dash back along the sidewalk to get the bus. I seem to be the last person to board, and somehow, some dude ends up on my ass at the payment box while getting my bus pass out. Funny how it happens, these types ending up from behind me from nowhere, the second time today. I get to the back of the bus where there is a seat, but in a streak of rude-dudeness, one dude has three seats occupied, so I end up sitting over two bucket seats. The usual city bus freakshow ensues, getting five dudes with brushcut hair all around me, and one redcoated hoodie girl. The bus just crosses the blue bridge and is finally getting to my bus stop to get off, and lo, if there isn't two wierds hauling a 17' red fiberglass canoe across the street, crossing ahead of the bus' path. Anyhow, I get off with a four dude consort who seem to have me covered in knowing which direction I headed, away from the canoe stunt.
I walk some two blocks to my place, and lo, if there isn't yet another dude coming at me again. I just don't get it why so many supposed pedestrians are not only walking in my intended path and making a sudden diversion some 10' ahead, but are now making steps to walk directly into me. It is fucking insane that I am not allowed to walk anywhere without threat of collision or worse. Bad enough that I get run-down attempts when on the crosswalk with the traffic signal, but to get someone in my face when walking on a public sidewalk is going to get fucking ugly real soon.
So now that I get to ponder about this morning's games, the big question is what was it all about? My brother making the left turn from the through lane to get me to the waiting bus with a minimum of street transit time, or what? And keeping a sample of the prior lunch food (canned salmon) I had to eat in the van with him? Don't know, but it was all too fucking stupid, and it would never of happened if it weren't raining, as I would of done the pruning job at his place. Go figure....
1920h
Relative calm for the past hours of web surfing, with stereo music players and components being a strange "need" to be updated on. I cannot afford any such luxuries, and here I am being made to look at $10k CD players, surely an anachronism by now, as a digital file will sound as good they say. Even some of the high guru of audiophilia have come to that conclusion. Everytime I have a look at all the interesting audio equipment I re-design the ideal system, and I suppose this fits the perps pattern of having me covet particular gear, then something else later, and so it goes, sometimes fed by FFF mentions of them getting a system, which never comes to fruition.
The earmuffs were getting very noisey with this rumbling din setting up in them, and that is how it goes in TI World; objects that ordinarily offer protection are exploited to be deleterious. And of course, that can change overnight, or whenever they decide that years of wearing hearing protection from the cacaphony of orchestrated noises no longer serves their purposes. More like, it is that I have dark green plastic earcups, white acoustic foam, and a metal band and a black vinyl band cover close to my head that really serves the purpose, likely some kind of color and material energetic reaction, unless anyone else out there has any other suggestions as to why the perps parade objects by, often arranging touch or some form of contact in the process. Or, getting close, like today's Fuckwits coming at me. Funny how pedestrians are changing their walking habits; LH drive, coming at me, and today, a sudden burst of a seeming independent gangstalkers that desparately needed to pass me on the R side, even if up against the store windows. Just plain fucking beserk is what the perps are.
2140h
An early bed time tomorrow to get up at 0500h for a 0638h bus to the daffodil farm. It was raining most of the day, so it should be boot sucking muddy out there tomorrow pickin daffodils for 20 cents a bunch. A tedious way to keep the cash flow up after the recent perp caused expenses.
Some interesting web site browsing tonight, and that kept me occupied enough for the last two hours, with plenty of bookmark action that the perps like so much. And too, the smudging of my eyeglasses every evening now, one or both lenses to varying opacity, a seeming important evening time testing game the perps have going.
Without further ado, I shall blog off and the next few weeks of blogging will be slim as the farm job sucks 12 hours out of my day, and I suspect it will be nearly every day until the end of Febuary when the let us locals go and had the imported Mexican labor do all the work.
There seems to be something big going down today, harassment-wise, but it is hard to put a finger on what it is. It started out with the perps dumping a teaspoon of ground coffee from the just-opened package of coffee (and putting on adversity in opening it and finally cutting off the mangled top of it), dumping it on the stovetop, burner, floor, oven handle and down under the burner in the catch pan. Just plain gratuitous coffee mess, their trademark, as they didn't bother to shake my hand that was holding the spoon or anything like that. Anyhow, only a short rage-ification over that, their brown color games starting up.
After breakfast and when in the bathroom and shaving (always a prime Fuckover activity), they started up the door closing thudding, lock clatter and the squeaky door noise from the hallway, at least ten iterations, and then posted dude talk on the other side of the wall, again from the hallway. Anyhow, when this was all over and I was changing into clothes and putting on my watch, I see it is 1030h. I woke up at 0700h this morning according to the clock, and at most it would of been 0930h. I checked the time on the kitchen stove clock, and then online, and it was in fact 1030h. So... some asshole dialed my alarm clock by an hour in the night, as I had been using it to get up at 0500h for the recent daffodil picking job.
My intown brother phoned during breakfast to respond to the phone message I left him yesterday, about pruning his front bushes, a job that got screwed around last weekend because he hid the extension cords.(He was away in Thailand for a month and I looked after his cat while away, back a week). I said I would come over, and the usual arrangement is that I know where the key is, and find my own way around due to his intinerant garage sale habit. I get dressed in my garden work clothes, and aim to get a bus in short order, and then a sudden need to crap comes on. I duly comply, and then find out the perps plastered my ass in shit in one of the most unusal messes to date, in all nine years of being harassed over taking a shit. So more delay, to take a shower to clean up, and it seems there is plenty of perp mileage in having me remove clothes in short order, after about 20 minutes of wearing them. So... I get set again to take a later bus, and head out into Gangstalk Land, my name for the streets of Victoria BC.
The usual proliferation of high arm swinging gangstalkers are out in place, though not too wierd, and then I am 60' from the bus stop when two dudes arrive 12' in front of me, and don't bother to make room on the sidewalk, which is at least 10' wide, and lo, if there isn't a constriction in the sidewalk due to a panel sign from the adjacent business, and this fucker still doesn' make any room on the sidewalk. His buddy is, and is smirking away, but the dude closest pretends he doesn't have a clue how utterly fucking rude he is, and still doesn't get it when I ask that he move over, waiting for him to go past as I am impeded by the street sign panel (painted plywood). Like WTF; this fucking dude-rudeness is suddenly getting worse, and I have yet to be convinced it doesn't spell orchestrated threat simulation.
Anyhow, the bus comes on time for once, and I was on the city bus freakshow, true enough, there were some odd ducks on board who didn't need to go far, and it always seems most odd that they don't walk instead for all the overhead time it takes to get a bus, (planning per schedule and waiting). I get my usual escort off the bus, this time two women, and lo, if one doesn't pull the identical stunt at the same location as the last time I was there; she is walking on my usual route, so I cross the road and walk on the other side, and lo, if she doesn't jaywalk 30' further and crosses the road to end up on my tail, and lo, if there isn't another fucker coming toward me at that moment, carrying the obligatory cigarette.
It is starting to rain, and as it "happens" (nothing never happens due to random chance in my existence) said brother is driving by and stops to give me a lift to his place. He says the rain is seeming to come to stay, and it isn't the transitory shower, and I agree, and say that I will hang out at his place, and have lunch there (if that is OK with him), and he says it is fine. I also mentioned that I need to go over the timesheet I sent him by email, the record of the cat care in his absence. Fine, and I see he found two extension cords, one plugged in, and had my gumboots sitting outside next to the electric pruning clippers. Funny that for a person so pressed for time that he spends it getting me ready for the pruning job.
All this at 1100h or so, and he tells me all about his holiday in Thailand and what it was like, and what travelling was like and the rest of it, at least an hour's worth. All this time I was listening to him, and then later we went over the spreadsheet I sent him and agreed on the cat care hours. I have lunch there, listening to what he was saying, and just when finishing up he says he has to go and soon, due to garage sale commitments. Fine, I say, I will depart on my own steam and lock up, as it is still raining outside, precluding any pruning work. Then he says he would drive me to a certain location on his intended route that I don't need to go to, and I turn down his offer. Then he suggests another location, which again, is contrary to my intended return direction. Then he finally says he would drive me to Esquimalt and Head street where I catch the bus, and I accept the offer.
Getting in the van turns out to be another First Feral Family stunt; getting in, and recalling that he "forgot" something, going back inside, dithering around at the door, and then pulling the electrical cord from the socket, and finally getting back in. In every instance of having vehicle rides with the FFF, they all started up this constant bullshit of delaying vehicle entry, protracting it or else getting out again, all of them. On the way there I ask him why he has frozen and canned salmon in the vehicle, his trades van, and he says it is for someone. Like WTF; I just had some of his canned salmon for lunch, as did he, and here is taking some along for a mysterious "someone". As we approach Esquimalt Rd where the bus route is, one crosses by 60' ahead at the traffic light controlled intersection. I tell my brother not to go silly over attempting to get me on it, as the buses run every ten minutes and I can wait out another. But he decides that he would, and with a left turn lane and a through lane ahead of him, he takes the through lane, when turning left would of got me to the bus still sitting in the bus stop. But instead of going straight through, per traffic lane markings, he makes a left instead, pulling an all-star perp dumbshit stunt like I have seen them do on occasion. He then pulls ahead of the bus stop, and he tells me it is still there as passengers are still boarding, looking in the mirror, and I bail out, and dash back along the sidewalk to get the bus. I seem to be the last person to board, and somehow, some dude ends up on my ass at the payment box while getting my bus pass out. Funny how it happens, these types ending up from behind me from nowhere, the second time today. I get to the back of the bus where there is a seat, but in a streak of rude-dudeness, one dude has three seats occupied, so I end up sitting over two bucket seats. The usual city bus freakshow ensues, getting five dudes with brushcut hair all around me, and one redcoated hoodie girl. The bus just crosses the blue bridge and is finally getting to my bus stop to get off, and lo, if there isn't two wierds hauling a 17' red fiberglass canoe across the street, crossing ahead of the bus' path. Anyhow, I get off with a four dude consort who seem to have me covered in knowing which direction I headed, away from the canoe stunt.
I walk some two blocks to my place, and lo, if there isn't yet another dude coming at me again. I just don't get it why so many supposed pedestrians are not only walking in my intended path and making a sudden diversion some 10' ahead, but are now making steps to walk directly into me. It is fucking insane that I am not allowed to walk anywhere without threat of collision or worse. Bad enough that I get run-down attempts when on the crosswalk with the traffic signal, but to get someone in my face when walking on a public sidewalk is going to get fucking ugly real soon.
So now that I get to ponder about this morning's games, the big question is what was it all about? My brother making the left turn from the through lane to get me to the waiting bus with a minimum of street transit time, or what? And keeping a sample of the prior lunch food (canned salmon) I had to eat in the van with him? Don't know, but it was all too fucking stupid, and it would never of happened if it weren't raining, as I would of done the pruning job at his place. Go figure....
1920h
Relative calm for the past hours of web surfing, with stereo music players and components being a strange "need" to be updated on. I cannot afford any such luxuries, and here I am being made to look at $10k CD players, surely an anachronism by now, as a digital file will sound as good they say. Even some of the high guru of audiophilia have come to that conclusion. Everytime I have a look at all the interesting audio equipment I re-design the ideal system, and I suppose this fits the perps pattern of having me covet particular gear, then something else later, and so it goes, sometimes fed by FFF mentions of them getting a system, which never comes to fruition.
The earmuffs were getting very noisey with this rumbling din setting up in them, and that is how it goes in TI World; objects that ordinarily offer protection are exploited to be deleterious. And of course, that can change overnight, or whenever they decide that years of wearing hearing protection from the cacaphony of orchestrated noises no longer serves their purposes. More like, it is that I have dark green plastic earcups, white acoustic foam, and a metal band and a black vinyl band cover close to my head that really serves the purpose, likely some kind of color and material energetic reaction, unless anyone else out there has any other suggestions as to why the perps parade objects by, often arranging touch or some form of contact in the process. Or, getting close, like today's Fuckwits coming at me. Funny how pedestrians are changing their walking habits; LH drive, coming at me, and today, a sudden burst of a seeming independent gangstalkers that desparately needed to pass me on the R side, even if up against the store windows. Just plain fucking beserk is what the perps are.
2140h
An early bed time tomorrow to get up at 0500h for a 0638h bus to the daffodil farm. It was raining most of the day, so it should be boot sucking muddy out there tomorrow pickin daffodils for 20 cents a bunch. A tedious way to keep the cash flow up after the recent perp caused expenses.
Some interesting web site browsing tonight, and that kept me occupied enough for the last two hours, with plenty of bookmark action that the perps like so much. And too, the smudging of my eyeglasses every evening now, one or both lenses to varying opacity, a seeming important evening time testing game the perps have going.
Without further ado, I shall blog off and the next few weeks of blogging will be slim as the farm job sucks 12 hours out of my day, and I suspect it will be nearly every day until the end of Febuary when the let us locals go and had the imported Mexican labor do all the work.
Monday, January 24, 2011
On With Pruning
1610h
I can always count on landscaping pruning to be big perp attractant, and so it was today. It was today, after doing the hydrangeas at the First Feral Family house, as the rain came on, shortening the time permitted and then giving me availible time to make a sortie to the local mall to get a resume faxed. Talk about silly, the amount of vehicular gangstalking in spades, some 50 or more grayscale color vehicles in the first half mile of suburbia with the odd navy blue in the mix, and then the dude-force once I was parked, raining heavier by then. And they had me "miss" my turn, and vacated the street so I could turn in mid-road and return to the same intersection making a left instead of the right turn if they hadn't dithered me. By then, many more hundreds of vehicles were in place on the four lane thoroughfare, McKenzie at Gordon Head Rd. And at four jaywalking hoodie dudes, all supposedly independently traversing the intersection also arrived as part of the gangstalking panalopy. More vehicular activity erupted when I exited the office shop, and then the "big browns' were also moving about in the too tight parking lot.
2005h
Back to online action after reading Saturday's newspaper on Monday, today. I don't know what the perps get from this exercise, but they are cautious to make sure I don't purchase a newspaper each Saturday, and also that I skip-read sections of it, especially if Unfavored Fugly pictures are next to articles I would ordinarily read in full. Talking up the multicultural nonsense seemed to be part of the drift, not to mention all those baubles in the ads I have no hope of acquiring, should I have the interest in the first place. Just keeping this PC running will be a $500 exercise by the time it is done. I ordered a new power supply, and will need to have it put in, as the perps don't like me to do my own PC repairs, turning me into a fumbling wreck just for the occasion.
Which means, getting some income soon, which means at this time of year, going daffodil picking and getting paid by the buch, $0.20/bunch of 10. They only let me do two weeks of it before we locals were all laid off last year, and the horde of 60 import Mexicans worked on picking for the next few months. But I see the perps had me purchase cashews last week, one of my typical break-time foods, and I see my mother had a potted daffodil in the house today, so it looks like it is going to be another horticultural year of earnings, such as they are.
And too, they had me acquire my father's unused old laminated steel knife from my mother's place, to replace the same knife that I lost (also formerly his) because they screwed me into "forgetting" where I left it. The foreman was headed in that direction and I asked her to retrieve it for me, and she "forgot" too. I had a spare knife, and used it for a few days before the show was shut down, per above mentioned layoff.
The perps have revitalized their interest in knives, and knife sharpening today. I also came across some one sided razor blades as well as the knife, and when I walked through the dude gauntlet at the front of the building and got into my apartment, I washed up one of the razor blades to be used in a low angle scraper to clean up perp paint spots that arrive in the night. As soon as I finished setting the razor in its mount, a sudden need to take a crap came on, and so that had to be dealt with, plunging and shower and all.
Later I honed the knife with the same diamond file I used last year, and apart from drilling a hole in the handle to put a loop through, it is ready for daffodil flower cutting. I can hardly wait. And too, I have one lime green bootlace remaining from last year, the same ribbon I used then. So here we have the same make, model and steel of knife, the same diamond file honing/sharpening, and the same material and color for the loop ribbon as last year, all in readiness to undertake the same yellow flower cutting toil in the fields as last year. Maybe they will let me more deft fingered so I can cut more flowers and make extra coin to defray these expensive PC repairs they laid on me. But it does go to show how far ahead the perps are planning, and to what level of detail. With the big question as to whether they will steal my knife again, so they can compare the energetics of using different kinds of knife edges; the Swedish laminated steel (unusual nowadays, except for expensive kitchen knives) or a more modern day mild steel. Who knows, and I care even less.
And it is a No Yellow Medication Intake Day today, as it is most Sunday night stayovers at the First Feral Family house, and sure enough, the infernal DHL courier trucks in gaudy yellow and red signage were out on the gangtalking trail today. Then two big yellow school buses were on my tail for the aforementioned driving Mackenzie today, one next or behind me, and then another some 100' back. Just to think, that the daffodil picking will also entail pickups in a yellow school bus. And that this scenario is identical to last year should it come to pass. At least the currency isn't yellow.
And watching the ice skating last night, the Canadian championships, held here locally for the second year running. The perps were up to their pixellization games, freezing the skater in mid-program and then laying on some coarse pixels in black, white and their sweater color over top of the skater. And lo, if this didn't "happen" for most of the skaters. Now tell me, if one gets a glitchy digital signal, does it happen over top of the central object of the picture each time? Only in TI World can that "happen" and these tactical TV pixel glitches have an unerring ability to dither persons or faces, especially at their eyes. Go figure.
Other momentous perp event must of been yesterday's inaugural use of the coffee grinder I got for Christmas. The first time I have had self-ground coffee for over ten years, and they made sure the grinder sat unused for a month as I had plenty of store purchased ground coffee on hand. The first thing the perps did is have two coffee messes erupt from no seen cause, one on each counter, 90 degrees offset. I don't know how these messes arrived, as I took exceptional care that it didn't happen because I know they will exploit every possible event to create one. So I was fucking pissed over this, and they have me poised to chuck the grinder out for their mess games.
Yesterday afternoon, instead of the First Feral Family tea-time we had tea at the ex's place with out daughter present, so I can assume this too was all about gangstalking the TI Victim with different coffee in him, having it burr ground at home instead of purchased ground. The in-store coffee grinding ended a few months before, as the assholes kept sabotaging it to make another mess. Apparently, it wasn't enough that they had their Fuckwits in full flight around me while the brown coffee beans were being milled, so they had to fuck me over some more and have all three grinders in the store go glitchy and make coffee messes. So then, they allowed me to find the pre-ground coffee, as somehow I had missed seeing it for the previous two years, and that was working just fine until yesterday when another round of coffee messes started up, this time arriving from nowhere and on the first day of using the new burr grinder. I am sure the brown coffee battles have a long way to go yet, and it may well entail chucking the grinder for the simplicity of pre-ground coffee, assuming they won't constrict the supply or my cognition in seeing it in the store. Yet another asinine battle ground with the perps that was evident from early on in the overt/beserk stage, and ranks up there with Cling Wrap handling in terms of consistency and relentlessnes. Who would ever believe a limitlessly funded secret agency would be fucking over innocent citizens over the color of their coffee, where it came from, how it was ground and made for close to nine years and counting? And that they have legions of gangstalking Fuckwits parading the streets everytime when I am out, packing their coffee as card carrying members of the Coffee Corps? And now, on the city bus no less. Stupid and stupider.
But the perps have had a long standing pre-occupation with the color brown; when they invaded my apartment in 04-15-2002 they put on brown plasma displays that caused me to collapse in a heap. Five days later, while driving at 0500h on the I-5 N. of Seattle, they banked a brown plasma beam off the inside of my glasses and the same thing happened, I started to slide down in the seat as I hadn't the ability to keep myself up. Just then, a vehicle of four adults came up beside me and some kind of jolt was applied to me and stopped me from collapsing in the driver's seat. Which causes me to wonder how many vehicle accidents have been created in this manner, or was my brown plasma flash experience unique to me? I don't know, but they also plugged up my toilet with a balloon during the invasion, and I had to get a plumber's snake to unclog it, and taking a shit has been a high risk experience ever since. Not my problem, so why am I hounded by the brown-clowns everywhere I go?
And am I the only person who gets a Purolator tracking number and then gets the response that they don't have the number? Does the litany of insane trivial obsessional Fuckover games ever end? Just fucking bizarre to say the least, but since the overt/beserk harassment started I have all manner of odd parcel delivery events; not knowing that it was shipped and having the courier unexpectedly arriving, the parcels that stay in one place for a week, the parcels that the manager accepts on my behalf and doesn't tell me about for a week and only responds when I complain to the courier, the no-notice deliveries where no notice of the delivery was provided and having me find out via the tracking number, and so it goes. Constant intervention and fucking around over parcel delivery, and I won't get into the brown box color games that go with this stupid game, yet another one to join coffee mess and Cling Wrap as three of the Most Stupid Perp Obsession and Disruption Themes going.
2130h
Am I getting spoofed again? I had 22 Facebook messages today when I first went online, and another ten trickled in later. I don't have a Facebook account and I have not "friended" anyone, and haven't responded to any requests, and yet I get this spamming all the same. Any idea how that can happen?
2225h
More music listening tonight, and that is when this PC starts slowing down. Downloads too, when they weren't ever much of a problem before. Soo... not something a PSU would fix is my take on it. But I wanted the Seasonic 460W Fanless PSU so bad, (read, perp planted notion), that any excuse will do.
Anyhow, time to blog off and contemplate how long they are going to keep me up tonight, lying in bed awake, per usual Monday night post-FFF visitation.
I can always count on landscaping pruning to be big perp attractant, and so it was today. It was today, after doing the hydrangeas at the First Feral Family house, as the rain came on, shortening the time permitted and then giving me availible time to make a sortie to the local mall to get a resume faxed. Talk about silly, the amount of vehicular gangstalking in spades, some 50 or more grayscale color vehicles in the first half mile of suburbia with the odd navy blue in the mix, and then the dude-force once I was parked, raining heavier by then. And they had me "miss" my turn, and vacated the street so I could turn in mid-road and return to the same intersection making a left instead of the right turn if they hadn't dithered me. By then, many more hundreds of vehicles were in place on the four lane thoroughfare, McKenzie at Gordon Head Rd. And at four jaywalking hoodie dudes, all supposedly independently traversing the intersection also arrived as part of the gangstalking panalopy. More vehicular activity erupted when I exited the office shop, and then the "big browns' were also moving about in the too tight parking lot.
2005h
Back to online action after reading Saturday's newspaper on Monday, today. I don't know what the perps get from this exercise, but they are cautious to make sure I don't purchase a newspaper each Saturday, and also that I skip-read sections of it, especially if Unfavored Fugly pictures are next to articles I would ordinarily read in full. Talking up the multicultural nonsense seemed to be part of the drift, not to mention all those baubles in the ads I have no hope of acquiring, should I have the interest in the first place. Just keeping this PC running will be a $500 exercise by the time it is done. I ordered a new power supply, and will need to have it put in, as the perps don't like me to do my own PC repairs, turning me into a fumbling wreck just for the occasion.
Which means, getting some income soon, which means at this time of year, going daffodil picking and getting paid by the buch, $0.20/bunch of 10. They only let me do two weeks of it before we locals were all laid off last year, and the horde of 60 import Mexicans worked on picking for the next few months. But I see the perps had me purchase cashews last week, one of my typical break-time foods, and I see my mother had a potted daffodil in the house today, so it looks like it is going to be another horticultural year of earnings, such as they are.
And too, they had me acquire my father's unused old laminated steel knife from my mother's place, to replace the same knife that I lost (also formerly his) because they screwed me into "forgetting" where I left it. The foreman was headed in that direction and I asked her to retrieve it for me, and she "forgot" too. I had a spare knife, and used it for a few days before the show was shut down, per above mentioned layoff.
The perps have revitalized their interest in knives, and knife sharpening today. I also came across some one sided razor blades as well as the knife, and when I walked through the dude gauntlet at the front of the building and got into my apartment, I washed up one of the razor blades to be used in a low angle scraper to clean up perp paint spots that arrive in the night. As soon as I finished setting the razor in its mount, a sudden need to take a crap came on, and so that had to be dealt with, plunging and shower and all.
Later I honed the knife with the same diamond file I used last year, and apart from drilling a hole in the handle to put a loop through, it is ready for daffodil flower cutting. I can hardly wait. And too, I have one lime green bootlace remaining from last year, the same ribbon I used then. So here we have the same make, model and steel of knife, the same diamond file honing/sharpening, and the same material and color for the loop ribbon as last year, all in readiness to undertake the same yellow flower cutting toil in the fields as last year. Maybe they will let me more deft fingered so I can cut more flowers and make extra coin to defray these expensive PC repairs they laid on me. But it does go to show how far ahead the perps are planning, and to what level of detail. With the big question as to whether they will steal my knife again, so they can compare the energetics of using different kinds of knife edges; the Swedish laminated steel (unusual nowadays, except for expensive kitchen knives) or a more modern day mild steel. Who knows, and I care even less.
And it is a No Yellow Medication Intake Day today, as it is most Sunday night stayovers at the First Feral Family house, and sure enough, the infernal DHL courier trucks in gaudy yellow and red signage were out on the gangtalking trail today. Then two big yellow school buses were on my tail for the aforementioned driving Mackenzie today, one next or behind me, and then another some 100' back. Just to think, that the daffodil picking will also entail pickups in a yellow school bus. And that this scenario is identical to last year should it come to pass. At least the currency isn't yellow.
And watching the ice skating last night, the Canadian championships, held here locally for the second year running. The perps were up to their pixellization games, freezing the skater in mid-program and then laying on some coarse pixels in black, white and their sweater color over top of the skater. And lo, if this didn't "happen" for most of the skaters. Now tell me, if one gets a glitchy digital signal, does it happen over top of the central object of the picture each time? Only in TI World can that "happen" and these tactical TV pixel glitches have an unerring ability to dither persons or faces, especially at their eyes. Go figure.
Other momentous perp event must of been yesterday's inaugural use of the coffee grinder I got for Christmas. The first time I have had self-ground coffee for over ten years, and they made sure the grinder sat unused for a month as I had plenty of store purchased ground coffee on hand. The first thing the perps did is have two coffee messes erupt from no seen cause, one on each counter, 90 degrees offset. I don't know how these messes arrived, as I took exceptional care that it didn't happen because I know they will exploit every possible event to create one. So I was fucking pissed over this, and they have me poised to chuck the grinder out for their mess games.
Yesterday afternoon, instead of the First Feral Family tea-time we had tea at the ex's place with out daughter present, so I can assume this too was all about gangstalking the TI Victim with different coffee in him, having it burr ground at home instead of purchased ground. The in-store coffee grinding ended a few months before, as the assholes kept sabotaging it to make another mess. Apparently, it wasn't enough that they had their Fuckwits in full flight around me while the brown coffee beans were being milled, so they had to fuck me over some more and have all three grinders in the store go glitchy and make coffee messes. So then, they allowed me to find the pre-ground coffee, as somehow I had missed seeing it for the previous two years, and that was working just fine until yesterday when another round of coffee messes started up, this time arriving from nowhere and on the first day of using the new burr grinder. I am sure the brown coffee battles have a long way to go yet, and it may well entail chucking the grinder for the simplicity of pre-ground coffee, assuming they won't constrict the supply or my cognition in seeing it in the store. Yet another asinine battle ground with the perps that was evident from early on in the overt/beserk stage, and ranks up there with Cling Wrap handling in terms of consistency and relentlessnes. Who would ever believe a limitlessly funded secret agency would be fucking over innocent citizens over the color of their coffee, where it came from, how it was ground and made for close to nine years and counting? And that they have legions of gangstalking Fuckwits parading the streets everytime when I am out, packing their coffee as card carrying members of the Coffee Corps? And now, on the city bus no less. Stupid and stupider.
But the perps have had a long standing pre-occupation with the color brown; when they invaded my apartment in 04-15-2002 they put on brown plasma displays that caused me to collapse in a heap. Five days later, while driving at 0500h on the I-5 N. of Seattle, they banked a brown plasma beam off the inside of my glasses and the same thing happened, I started to slide down in the seat as I hadn't the ability to keep myself up. Just then, a vehicle of four adults came up beside me and some kind of jolt was applied to me and stopped me from collapsing in the driver's seat. Which causes me to wonder how many vehicle accidents have been created in this manner, or was my brown plasma flash experience unique to me? I don't know, but they also plugged up my toilet with a balloon during the invasion, and I had to get a plumber's snake to unclog it, and taking a shit has been a high risk experience ever since. Not my problem, so why am I hounded by the brown-clowns everywhere I go?
And am I the only person who gets a Purolator tracking number and then gets the response that they don't have the number? Does the litany of insane trivial obsessional Fuckover games ever end? Just fucking bizarre to say the least, but since the overt/beserk harassment started I have all manner of odd parcel delivery events; not knowing that it was shipped and having the courier unexpectedly arriving, the parcels that stay in one place for a week, the parcels that the manager accepts on my behalf and doesn't tell me about for a week and only responds when I complain to the courier, the no-notice deliveries where no notice of the delivery was provided and having me find out via the tracking number, and so it goes. Constant intervention and fucking around over parcel delivery, and I won't get into the brown box color games that go with this stupid game, yet another one to join coffee mess and Cling Wrap as three of the Most Stupid Perp Obsession and Disruption Themes going.
2130h
Am I getting spoofed again? I had 22 Facebook messages today when I first went online, and another ten trickled in later. I don't have a Facebook account and I have not "friended" anyone, and haven't responded to any requests, and yet I get this spamming all the same. Any idea how that can happen?
2225h
More music listening tonight, and that is when this PC starts slowing down. Downloads too, when they weren't ever much of a problem before. Soo... not something a PSU would fix is my take on it. But I wanted the Seasonic 460W Fanless PSU so bad, (read, perp planted notion), that any excuse will do.
Anyhow, time to blog off and contemplate how long they are going to keep me up tonight, lying in bed awake, per usual Monday night post-FFF visitation.
Wednesday, October 06, 2010
Coffee Mess
1005h
A major four minute screaming rage show at breakfast this morning when coffee grounds arrived from nowhere and spewed over the counter when I put the bag down. Three spewings in fact as I attempted to move the bag out of the mess I got another. I checked the end of the bag for splits or holes and there was none. This is the most egregious fuckery yet over their coffee grounds messes, but they wanted me rage-ified big time, and thats what they got. I had to hold the bag over the sink to avoid more spills while I spooned coffee out of the bag and then kept the bag under the spoon as it was transfered from sink to stovetop where the coffee pot was. And while the forced rage show was going on, they flew my mouth contents onto the counter into the coffee mess, thereby integrating the prior cereal course with the next beverage course outside of my mouth. The flying food games, putatively from my mouth even if it is not open, have increased of late, and this was another escalation of this insane fucking game they have been playing in various guises. I get a significant number of street spitting gangstalkers around me, and one co-worker who was also a heavy spitter. (And who complained to the foreman about someone spitting more that he did).
I get plenty of coffee bearing gangstalkers out in public as well, even if they are walking toward a Starbucks with a Starbucks coffee in hand. My out-of-town brother when he was younger had this habit of making a coffee mess on the counter after I cleaned the kitchen like it never has had before. I could never figure out why he made the mess and then left it there, but now I know, coffee, like so many things brown colored, serves as an outside reference color for the brown substances inside the human body, which is the prime research subject after their remotel and dynamically applied mind control agenda. Said brother was accorded the nickname of "Coffee Mess" for the longest time, and it is most odd that this bullshit now erupts in my own place some 30 years later.
There are also other coffee ground messes; each cleaning of the breakfast dishes where there is no residual coffee grounds is accompanied by the arrival of a small amount of grounds. Said grounds are 10x the size of the powdery coffee grind that I get at the store, so where in the fuck do they come from? Ditto for the putative grounds that arrive in the shelves around the coffee pot and filter stem, and the shelf below it. I cleaned the latter last week, free of the imposed coffee grounds mess, and there was a mess in the same location the next day. None of this incremental accretion games this time, no sir, blatant teleportation of fucking mess is now permissible by whatever rules czar/rationale they subscribe to.
When a major Fuckover show like above erupts, there is the tendency to examine what other exceptional events have occured recently. And lo, if there wasn't a nut shave last night, the first in two weeks (usually a once per week event) with the Schick three blade razor, due to the fact that the two blade razor inserts were stolen. It was the second use of this razor after it sat on the steel cabinet for the past two weeks, so this "fallow time" might of been important. The trend is that they shorten up the "fallow time" over some months, working back in decreasing iterations. Also, this Schick razor insert has one green and one yellow teflon rub bar instead of the Gillette white colored one, and that too might be of great consequence for the assholes, which I will find out when I head out. One outing will be meeting my perp abetting mother at lunch time today. And plenty of outside noise while nut shaving; hallway voices, constant elevator noise, (unabated even after the second one was now operative late last week), loud mufflered vehicles from the street and others. Also, like last time, some black fluffy lint arrived in the bathtub, coming from nowhere, as it was clean of any debris before I got in.
1215h
I went out at 1100h expecting the streets and grocry store to be relatively calm, as in low gangstalker count, but no such luck. They were all over me outside with a posse on each side of the street all heading the same direction as I was. My white haired older woman in brown colored clothing gangstalker was there at the corner, and tailed me into the supermarket. Then she "happened" to be in the aisle that was my alternative to a heavily gangstalked aisle, and lo, if she wasn't on the street again, tailing me after doing a right angle route through the parking lot. And still tailing me when crossing the street,and when I was stopped at the intersectionshe was passing behind me way too close, and also holding a square of chocolate in her hand that was closest to me. Talk about brown on brown, but also chocolate on chocolate as I had six Ritter Sport bars and a jar of chocolate spread in my shopping bag.
The cashier was doing a major pondering over the chocolate spread, asking me questions about it, as it seems she didn't know much about it she claimed. "Better than Nutella and no hydrogenated fats either" says me, likely as part of the game to have me vocalize before and during paying by debit card.
As I entered the grocery store there was a display to constrain egress and it just "happened" to be the location where two rude-dudes, one a skinhead, were in deep conversation. The skinhead had to also do his waving and pointing and lo, if his arm wasn't full of disgusting tattoos. I now loathe the sight of tattoos, a "reaction" the perps have given me since about 2004 or so, and lo, if there wasn't this ugly Fuckwit posted and waving his arms about like I see so many perps sickos do. (If you follow Eastern medicine and the energy meridian concept, you will know that many of these energy meridians terminate in the hands. So it would seem that they are waving these energy meridians around in a space that I am to walk through, after doing the excuse me for these fucking dolts obstructing egress).
Besides the brown granny mentioned above, I got three Asian males hounding me at one corner where the chocolate bars were, and then getting past them the aisle was beset with at least four gangstalkers doing the "pretend shopping" act, and so I take an alternate route to get the chocolate spread. And as soon as I pick it up a goonish skinhead was bearing down on me. Then more obvious non-shopping lollygagging Fuckwits ahead of me to slow me down to get to the goat milk, with two posted gangstalkers there. Then onto the produce section with another Fuckwit semi-negro woman adroitly stepping into the aisle I was about to take, presumably to slow me down again, and then when the pre-mixed salad was chosen, it was off to the availible cashier to get the fuck out of the store. The cashier had a tattoo she "happened" to show me, immediately before putting in my debit password, and once done, two women were obstructing egress for me to get out. Once past them, a huge yellow Hummer was backing up into the parking lot, about to encroach on my walking route, so I had to wait for that, and then walk through the area over which it had driven. In the long past, the perps would often have an ambulatory gangstalker walk through the parking stall I had just vacated when I had my vehicle until mid-2006. So I suppose having me walk over the top of where vehicles have driven, e.g. traffic intersections, is still part of their research methods of attempting to get over top, (or under with road works and cable installations), of every step I make.
1340h
The overhead rumbling and squeaking noise has started up immediately upon my return from lunch. The same noise started up when I got back from the above shopping trip, brief as it was, 10 min. round trip. Funny how they use the same noisestalking noise for the same event. As in NOT; there are no coincidences in this existence when one is managed down to the last thought. The only neural function they seem to pay significant attention to is attention shifting, which will beget various combinations of maser strikes on my face, noisestalkings (including internal mouth or jaw noise unbidden by me), light or shadow flashes, transient vision perturbations and a few other incursions that don't come to mind.
And lunch out with my mother, who made sure that I knew that the surge of Fuckwits at the counter came on after I arrived and we ordered. The usual long hair males, males in dumb shorts, plus interjections of babes as a diversion/pleasant view for comparison to the parading males. The better looking the babe, the more back and forths she did.
1700h
The Kevlar gloves arrived today; I was told it would arrive via Purolater, and lo, if it wasn't UPS, a perp classic bait-and-switcth stunt. And they are yellow colored, but that wasn't good enough, aa one glove has a different yellow back than its front and the other glove. In other words, one side of one glove has been given the extra different yellow treatment, faux discoloration. And to make it all the more versatile from the harassment variations perspective, why, both gloves are identical, fitting each hand the same, and so this one different color "back" can now also be the front and also be put on the other hand. Well planned from the yellow color variation perspective, and only one more example of the insane level of dumbshit fuckery that goes on in this orchestrated existence.
On another front in this same meilieu, the underwear replacement plans got changed on me. The two year old underwear is looking very worn, and I was going to get a synthethic moisture wicking fabric type from the outdoors coop. I even purchased both a medium and a small pair, and found the latter wit the best fit, and now it is not availble. Today's visit to the store didn't help, as it was all changed around and I could not find the section anymore. But as underwear is a top perp managed clothing item, I am not too surprised the assholes pulled them from my purchase intentions, as obtaining the right kind and size has been a jerkaround each time I go through this process. The last set has to be taken to an alterations store to have 2" of the waist height removed to make them more confortable. And of course, give the perps a fabric swatch from each pair.
Here is what I gleaned from the Dr. John C Lily site;
A major four minute screaming rage show at breakfast this morning when coffee grounds arrived from nowhere and spewed over the counter when I put the bag down. Three spewings in fact as I attempted to move the bag out of the mess I got another. I checked the end of the bag for splits or holes and there was none. This is the most egregious fuckery yet over their coffee grounds messes, but they wanted me rage-ified big time, and thats what they got. I had to hold the bag over the sink to avoid more spills while I spooned coffee out of the bag and then kept the bag under the spoon as it was transfered from sink to stovetop where the coffee pot was. And while the forced rage show was going on, they flew my mouth contents onto the counter into the coffee mess, thereby integrating the prior cereal course with the next beverage course outside of my mouth. The flying food games, putatively from my mouth even if it is not open, have increased of late, and this was another escalation of this insane fucking game they have been playing in various guises. I get a significant number of street spitting gangstalkers around me, and one co-worker who was also a heavy spitter. (And who complained to the foreman about someone spitting more that he did).
I get plenty of coffee bearing gangstalkers out in public as well, even if they are walking toward a Starbucks with a Starbucks coffee in hand. My out-of-town brother when he was younger had this habit of making a coffee mess on the counter after I cleaned the kitchen like it never has had before. I could never figure out why he made the mess and then left it there, but now I know, coffee, like so many things brown colored, serves as an outside reference color for the brown substances inside the human body, which is the prime research subject after their remotel and dynamically applied mind control agenda. Said brother was accorded the nickname of "Coffee Mess" for the longest time, and it is most odd that this bullshit now erupts in my own place some 30 years later.
There are also other coffee ground messes; each cleaning of the breakfast dishes where there is no residual coffee grounds is accompanied by the arrival of a small amount of grounds. Said grounds are 10x the size of the powdery coffee grind that I get at the store, so where in the fuck do they come from? Ditto for the putative grounds that arrive in the shelves around the coffee pot and filter stem, and the shelf below it. I cleaned the latter last week, free of the imposed coffee grounds mess, and there was a mess in the same location the next day. None of this incremental accretion games this time, no sir, blatant teleportation of fucking mess is now permissible by whatever rules czar/rationale they subscribe to.
When a major Fuckover show like above erupts, there is the tendency to examine what other exceptional events have occured recently. And lo, if there wasn't a nut shave last night, the first in two weeks (usually a once per week event) with the Schick three blade razor, due to the fact that the two blade razor inserts were stolen. It was the second use of this razor after it sat on the steel cabinet for the past two weeks, so this "fallow time" might of been important. The trend is that they shorten up the "fallow time" over some months, working back in decreasing iterations. Also, this Schick razor insert has one green and one yellow teflon rub bar instead of the Gillette white colored one, and that too might be of great consequence for the assholes, which I will find out when I head out. One outing will be meeting my perp abetting mother at lunch time today. And plenty of outside noise while nut shaving; hallway voices, constant elevator noise, (unabated even after the second one was now operative late last week), loud mufflered vehicles from the street and others. Also, like last time, some black fluffy lint arrived in the bathtub, coming from nowhere, as it was clean of any debris before I got in.
1215h
I went out at 1100h expecting the streets and grocry store to be relatively calm, as in low gangstalker count, but no such luck. They were all over me outside with a posse on each side of the street all heading the same direction as I was. My white haired older woman in brown colored clothing gangstalker was there at the corner, and tailed me into the supermarket. Then she "happened" to be in the aisle that was my alternative to a heavily gangstalked aisle, and lo, if she wasn't on the street again, tailing me after doing a right angle route through the parking lot. And still tailing me when crossing the street,and when I was stopped at the intersectionshe was passing behind me way too close, and also holding a square of chocolate in her hand that was closest to me. Talk about brown on brown, but also chocolate on chocolate as I had six Ritter Sport bars and a jar of chocolate spread in my shopping bag.
The cashier was doing a major pondering over the chocolate spread, asking me questions about it, as it seems she didn't know much about it she claimed. "Better than Nutella and no hydrogenated fats either" says me, likely as part of the game to have me vocalize before and during paying by debit card.
As I entered the grocery store there was a display to constrain egress and it just "happened" to be the location where two rude-dudes, one a skinhead, were in deep conversation. The skinhead had to also do his waving and pointing and lo, if his arm wasn't full of disgusting tattoos. I now loathe the sight of tattoos, a "reaction" the perps have given me since about 2004 or so, and lo, if there wasn't this ugly Fuckwit posted and waving his arms about like I see so many perps sickos do. (If you follow Eastern medicine and the energy meridian concept, you will know that many of these energy meridians terminate in the hands. So it would seem that they are waving these energy meridians around in a space that I am to walk through, after doing the excuse me for these fucking dolts obstructing egress).
Besides the brown granny mentioned above, I got three Asian males hounding me at one corner where the chocolate bars were, and then getting past them the aisle was beset with at least four gangstalkers doing the "pretend shopping" act, and so I take an alternate route to get the chocolate spread. And as soon as I pick it up a goonish skinhead was bearing down on me. Then more obvious non-shopping lollygagging Fuckwits ahead of me to slow me down to get to the goat milk, with two posted gangstalkers there. Then onto the produce section with another Fuckwit semi-negro woman adroitly stepping into the aisle I was about to take, presumably to slow me down again, and then when the pre-mixed salad was chosen, it was off to the availible cashier to get the fuck out of the store. The cashier had a tattoo she "happened" to show me, immediately before putting in my debit password, and once done, two women were obstructing egress for me to get out. Once past them, a huge yellow Hummer was backing up into the parking lot, about to encroach on my walking route, so I had to wait for that, and then walk through the area over which it had driven. In the long past, the perps would often have an ambulatory gangstalker walk through the parking stall I had just vacated when I had my vehicle until mid-2006. So I suppose having me walk over the top of where vehicles have driven, e.g. traffic intersections, is still part of their research methods of attempting to get over top, (or under with road works and cable installations), of every step I make.
1340h
The overhead rumbling and squeaking noise has started up immediately upon my return from lunch. The same noise started up when I got back from the above shopping trip, brief as it was, 10 min. round trip. Funny how they use the same noisestalking noise for the same event. As in NOT; there are no coincidences in this existence when one is managed down to the last thought. The only neural function they seem to pay significant attention to is attention shifting, which will beget various combinations of maser strikes on my face, noisestalkings (including internal mouth or jaw noise unbidden by me), light or shadow flashes, transient vision perturbations and a few other incursions that don't come to mind.
And lunch out with my mother, who made sure that I knew that the surge of Fuckwits at the counter came on after I arrived and we ordered. The usual long hair males, males in dumb shorts, plus interjections of babes as a diversion/pleasant view for comparison to the parading males. The better looking the babe, the more back and forths she did.
1700h
The Kevlar gloves arrived today; I was told it would arrive via Purolater, and lo, if it wasn't UPS, a perp classic bait-and-switcth stunt. And they are yellow colored, but that wasn't good enough, aa one glove has a different yellow back than its front and the other glove. In other words, one side of one glove has been given the extra different yellow treatment, faux discoloration. And to make it all the more versatile from the harassment variations perspective, why, both gloves are identical, fitting each hand the same, and so this one different color "back" can now also be the front and also be put on the other hand. Well planned from the yellow color variation perspective, and only one more example of the insane level of dumbshit fuckery that goes on in this orchestrated existence.
On another front in this same meilieu, the underwear replacement plans got changed on me. The two year old underwear is looking very worn, and I was going to get a synthethic moisture wicking fabric type from the outdoors coop. I even purchased both a medium and a small pair, and found the latter wit the best fit, and now it is not availble. Today's visit to the store didn't help, as it was all changed around and I could not find the section anymore. But as underwear is a top perp managed clothing item, I am not too surprised the assholes pulled them from my purchase intentions, as obtaining the right kind and size has been a jerkaround each time I go through this process. The last set has to be taken to an alterations store to have 2" of the waist height removed to make them more confortable. And of course, give the perps a fabric swatch from each pair.
Here is what I gleaned from the Dr. John C Lily site;
Earth Coincidence Control Office (E.C.C.O.)
-Description
"In ones life there can be peculiarly appropriate chains of related events that lead to consequences that are strongly desired. After such experiences, one wonders how such a series of events developed;
sometimes there is a strong feeling that some intelligence (greater than ours) directed the course along certain lines which It/He/She was/is programming. Several years ago, I enunsiated a format for such
concatenations of events, somewhat".
"There exists a Cosmic Control Center (C.C.C.) with a Galactic substation called Galactic Coincidence Control (G.C.C.). Within which is the Solar System Control Unit (S.S.C.U.), within which is the Earth
Coincidence Control Office (E.C.C.O.). The assignments of responsiblities from the top to the bottom of this system of control is by a set of regulations, which translated by E.C.C.O. for humans is somewhat as
follows:"
To all humans
If you wish to control coincidences in your own life on the planet Earth, we will cooperate and determine those coincidences for you under the following conditions:
1) You must know/assume/simulate our existence in ECCO
2) You must be willing to accept our responsibility for control of your coincidences.
3) You must exert your best capabilities for your susrvival programs and your own development as an advancing/advanced member of ECCO's earthside corps of controlled coincidence workers. You are
expected to use your best intelligence in this service
4) You are expected to expect the unexpected every minute, every hour of every day and of every night.
5) You must be able to maintain conscious/thinking/ reasoning no matter what events we arrange to happen to you. Some of these events will seem catachlysmic/catastrophic/overwhelming: remember stay
aware, no matter what happens/apparently happens to you.
6) You are in our training program for life: there is no escape from it. We (not you ) control the long-term coincidences; you (not we) control the shorter-term coincidences by your own efforts.
7) Your major mission on earth is to discover/create that which we do to control the long-term coincidence patterns: you are being trained on Earth to do this job.
8) When your mission on planet Earth is completed, you will no longer be required to remain/return there.
9) Remember the motto passed to us (from GCC via SSCU):
"Cosmic Love is absolutelely Ruthless and Highly Indifferent: it teaches its lessons whether you like/dislike them or not."
(Excerpt from "The Dyadic Cyclone")
Well, I suppose that we get to look after "small" coincidences is a nice gesture, but in my case it isn't true, and I would think that to be the case for all TI's.
2320h
An evening of re-aquainting myself with the joys of surfing employment web sites, and pondering if I should go back to cleaning for keeping me above water for the winter. The last time I did that I got no reply. Anyhow, it is time to post this, even with the pop-ups coming up for no reason and stopping me from typing.
Well, I suppose that we get to look after "small" coincidences is a nice gesture, but in my case it isn't true, and I would think that to be the case for all TI's.
2320h
An evening of re-aquainting myself with the joys of surfing employment web sites, and pondering if I should go back to cleaning for keeping me above water for the winter. The last time I did that I got no reply. Anyhow, it is time to post this, even with the pop-ups coming up for no reason and stopping me from typing.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Perps Go Nuts
1120h
A high abuse morning so far, and after an absurd 10 hour sleep, two hours more than needed with some bizarre dreams preceding the noise accompanied (hot rod muffler noise from outside) act of getting up, always a big deal for them.
And what got into the perps this morning? Two simultaneous coffee messes on the stovetop, one at the front of it (fresh ground coffee) and one at the back, (faux leftover grounds "from" the clean filter stem). A screaming rage show over this as it was so blatant, with the fresh coffee grounds leaping off the spoon as it was about to be dropped in the coffee carafe. When the regular routines become a rage-ification Fuckover scene, usually there is a reason, as in something is different, and they "need" an extra stressed victim. I started eating the macademia nuts in my breakfast cereal this morning, the package having sat there for 6 weeks until I finished up the hemp seed that I usually buy. The nuts are in whole form, and supplied to me by my perp-abetting mother from her trip to Hawaii. I chopped them down to make them more manageable with cereal flakes in a bowl, this on the plastic chopping board I always use. I reckon adding the chopped nuts (seeds and nuts always of intense perp interest), with plastic chopping board "energies" was the essential difference to then have the perps sickos rage-ifiy me over coffee mess on the stovetop, some also leaping onto the floor while cleaning the mess up with the new lime green colored kitchen sponge. They had me switch over to the lime green sponges about a week ago, having used blue ones for the past eight years. Another momentous change for the assholes given the efforts they go to in screwing me around over cleaning up their messes (or even, regular cleaning). And not forgetting that the coffee mess games also fit the perp's beserk and recently escalated "need" to have me exposed to games with crumbs, in all their teleporting and telekinetic variants.
And a rare, for this place, screwaround over doing laundry this morning: they have the dryer and washing machine backed up with other users, so having my laundry sit around in a ready state for an hour is just peachy for the sickos. That is, if you follow the ongoing interest in screwing me over in doing laundry, now becoming routine, and not mentioned much in this blog anymore.
So... I am putzing and blogging, hoping that the escalated abuse games will subside, and then restore some relative calm for the remainder of the day. It is a Sunday, and besides the local church bell games so far, I will be staying at the First Feral Family home tonight to catch my once-per-week bathing in the magnetic rays of the CRT TV. Never mind that I eat in front of it, and of course, the perps being totally obessed over the color and substance of what I eat, especially for the following two hour digestion period.
1215h
Still ongoing laundry room back up games; my washing cycle is done, and I removed the shower curtain from the load to hang it up and have it dry. The rest of the soggy cotton laundry is still in the opened washing machine, awaiting some dryer time. The present dryer run has a big blue plastic laundry basket on top of it, so I suspect that might be what the assholes want me to follow; "blue plastic energies" of the dryer top surface while my laundry spins underneath it. Another exciting perp moment to be sure, along with the many extra hallway and laundry room trips to get my laundry done. And it is still not done, so maybe a steamy in-apartment drying session instead. Hard to know what their laundry agenda is, though I suspect the spinning and the perps seeming need to plant torsional objects in my proximity has a likely association.
An early end to blogging today, the First Feral Family (FFF) pickup, visitation of the paternal asshole and his demential act (still good at gangstalking though), and the rest of the contrived bullshit of this insane abusive criminality.
1305h
Not quite; the laundry wasn't going to get done with the dryer occupied by someone else's still-soggy clothing. So..., an in-house air drying, and doubtless concocted for my absence at the FFF home for the next 12 hours. Who knew that my laundry was so interesting? And again, another perceptual jerkaround as they fucked me out of knowing that I have hooks on the back of the bathroom door, and kept me in a quandry as to where to hang up all the laundry. They stole my drying rack a few years ago, and haven't permitted me to get any other kind of airdrying rack since. Only the bathroom shower rail and the Ikea lamp are the permitted locations of wet laundry air drying in the current state of their obsessive inanity.
More blathering; an interesting interview with Jim Humble of MMS or Miracle Mineral Supplement, which is chlorine dioxide and how it can rid one of malaria and aid recovery from cancer. Another one of "those" hot conspiracy items I must confess, but it seems to be the real deal, despite the tawdry advertisements. The health underground strikes again, and I suspect this will be a huge dust up in a few more years between the people and the pharma-generals and their legions of lobbists/disparagers. It may even work for other endemic difficult-to-rid conditions, including persistent lung conditons. Over an hour, and if you can take the exotic head gear, have a look; click on the pic to get streaming video, or else there is an MP3 file too, same link.
Onto the great blue yonder, as FFF pickup is imminent.
A high abuse morning so far, and after an absurd 10 hour sleep, two hours more than needed with some bizarre dreams preceding the noise accompanied (hot rod muffler noise from outside) act of getting up, always a big deal for them.
And what got into the perps this morning? Two simultaneous coffee messes on the stovetop, one at the front of it (fresh ground coffee) and one at the back, (faux leftover grounds "from" the clean filter stem). A screaming rage show over this as it was so blatant, with the fresh coffee grounds leaping off the spoon as it was about to be dropped in the coffee carafe. When the regular routines become a rage-ification Fuckover scene, usually there is a reason, as in something is different, and they "need" an extra stressed victim. I started eating the macademia nuts in my breakfast cereal this morning, the package having sat there for 6 weeks until I finished up the hemp seed that I usually buy. The nuts are in whole form, and supplied to me by my perp-abetting mother from her trip to Hawaii. I chopped them down to make them more manageable with cereal flakes in a bowl, this on the plastic chopping board I always use. I reckon adding the chopped nuts (seeds and nuts always of intense perp interest), with plastic chopping board "energies" was the essential difference to then have the perps sickos rage-ifiy me over coffee mess on the stovetop, some also leaping onto the floor while cleaning the mess up with the new lime green colored kitchen sponge. They had me switch over to the lime green sponges about a week ago, having used blue ones for the past eight years. Another momentous change for the assholes given the efforts they go to in screwing me around over cleaning up their messes (or even, regular cleaning). And not forgetting that the coffee mess games also fit the perp's beserk and recently escalated "need" to have me exposed to games with crumbs, in all their teleporting and telekinetic variants.
And a rare, for this place, screwaround over doing laundry this morning: they have the dryer and washing machine backed up with other users, so having my laundry sit around in a ready state for an hour is just peachy for the sickos. That is, if you follow the ongoing interest in screwing me over in doing laundry, now becoming routine, and not mentioned much in this blog anymore.
So... I am putzing and blogging, hoping that the escalated abuse games will subside, and then restore some relative calm for the remainder of the day. It is a Sunday, and besides the local church bell games so far, I will be staying at the First Feral Family home tonight to catch my once-per-week bathing in the magnetic rays of the CRT TV. Never mind that I eat in front of it, and of course, the perps being totally obessed over the color and substance of what I eat, especially for the following two hour digestion period.
1215h
Still ongoing laundry room back up games; my washing cycle is done, and I removed the shower curtain from the load to hang it up and have it dry. The rest of the soggy cotton laundry is still in the opened washing machine, awaiting some dryer time. The present dryer run has a big blue plastic laundry basket on top of it, so I suspect that might be what the assholes want me to follow; "blue plastic energies" of the dryer top surface while my laundry spins underneath it. Another exciting perp moment to be sure, along with the many extra hallway and laundry room trips to get my laundry done. And it is still not done, so maybe a steamy in-apartment drying session instead. Hard to know what their laundry agenda is, though I suspect the spinning and the perps seeming need to plant torsional objects in my proximity has a likely association.
An early end to blogging today, the First Feral Family (FFF) pickup, visitation of the paternal asshole and his demential act (still good at gangstalking though), and the rest of the contrived bullshit of this insane abusive criminality.
1305h
Not quite; the laundry wasn't going to get done with the dryer occupied by someone else's still-soggy clothing. So..., an in-house air drying, and doubtless concocted for my absence at the FFF home for the next 12 hours. Who knew that my laundry was so interesting? And again, another perceptual jerkaround as they fucked me out of knowing that I have hooks on the back of the bathroom door, and kept me in a quandry as to where to hang up all the laundry. They stole my drying rack a few years ago, and haven't permitted me to get any other kind of airdrying rack since. Only the bathroom shower rail and the Ikea lamp are the permitted locations of wet laundry air drying in the current state of their obsessive inanity.
More blathering; an interesting interview with Jim Humble of MMS or Miracle Mineral Supplement, which is chlorine dioxide and how it can rid one of malaria and aid recovery from cancer. Another one of "those" hot conspiracy items I must confess, but it seems to be the real deal, despite the tawdry advertisements. The health underground strikes again, and I suspect this will be a huge dust up in a few more years between the people and the pharma-generals and their legions of lobbists/disparagers. It may even work for other endemic difficult-to-rid conditions, including persistent lung conditons. Over an hour, and if you can take the exotic head gear, have a look; click on the pic to get streaming video, or else there is an MP3 file too, same link.
Onto the great blue yonder, as FFF pickup is imminent.
Tuesday, May 04, 2010
Clean Teeth
1105h
A ringing rage show this morning; the coffee magically gushed from the Bodum carafe as I was gently pushing down the filter stem, lid on. One of those No-Ostensible-Cause events, as they won't even let me push down the filter stem in less than 30 seconds for the 8" it has to travel. And this time, likely in preparation of going to the dentist, the assholes decided to splatter the carafe, stovetop and stove front to the floor with coffee, their very favorite brown substance/reference, at least going by the Coffee Corps on gangstalking duty. And I was duly rage-ified to the max for at least a minute of screaming at the assholes, all at 0700h. Needless to say, the noisestalking started up during this, and follow-on rage-fication stunts of lesser duration were scripted to keep the rage continuity going for the next 40 minutes.
Then onto the dentist to get my teeth cleaned, and the city bus freakshow and more musical seat games. This time it was the blonde babe with the yellow (paper) envelope who got on the same bus stop as I did, and halfway there she exits, and the large fat woman in black walks the length of the bus to then sit in the just-vacated blonde's seat. Part of attempting to catch the blonde (Favored) "glow"/auric energy with that of an Unfavored fat girl. The dude force was also in place around me, one tailing me off the bus, and across the street, in a fugly green jacket, and still doing the scarf thing in May. And a negro woman on board as well; more of the Unfavored insertations it would seem. But no fugly negro dude at the dentist's office this time, but one never knows where the next one is coming from, or how ludicrous it is at times to see so many when they are less than 3% of the population, per demographic statistics. And the dude near me in the transverse seats on the rear wheel well, who was doing the lean-forward as if he was about to take a crap, did the full bus length walk, touches the paper bus timetables in the cargo area on top of the front wheel well, and then returns to the rear door to exit. Bizarre bullshit all the time.
And yet again, they had me make a piss in mid-dental treatment, just before getting the green rinse. I have never had to piss so often in the middle of events that I could reasonably wait for. And of course, here at online land, they force piss breaks at strategic intervals, say, before some select, copy and paste Windows actions, one of their all time favorite noisestalking events.
Other anomalies while in the dental chair were plasmic beams coming off dental tools, and not flare or abberations from my glasses as I didn't have them on. I get these when in the bathroom doing my own dental hygiene twice per day, this faux reflectace off objects with a visible white light beam that projects from the reflective spot for some 2" to 4". Like those attachments for camera lenses that create this flare from a fine grid in the attachment.
1400h
I see that someone tidied up my image files on my PC for me. I was in a three way mess due to partial and later complete recovery of backups of the 2008 pictures that disappeared altogether for a time. I had used a file compare/merge utility and got further into making a mess, though more orderly, and then left it that state, hoping for a better tool to manipulate files and directories. I tried a few, but none were up to the job, so I was going to use the first used file management utility but the directories that I created weren't there. Totally gone, and with a very unique name that could not be missed. Anyhow, the source, and the two backup directories were all the same, contents and all, so there was nothing to fix up any more. It is extremely rare that I get the perps cleaning up their messes, though to be fair, I don't really know for sure if some files got deleted. Another one of those mystery events that appears to be beneficial.
1750h
Some bureaucratic activity this afternoon; the ex is doing a pension split application and has misstated the years together IMHO. So, in keeping with the perp's obsession over paper and where it is from, all the way back to the paper mill, I had to dig out tax returns to 1999, and prove my residence in Everett going back to mid-1999. I find it most curious that some papers, like the rental contract with the landlord of a sizeable apartment complex, cannot be found, where other documents are findable. I have no knowledge that I threw them out as I have been most particular, especially since this abuse came on in 04-2002, because even the monthly utility bills will demonstrate residence among other things. And for that matter, strangely peaking power bills that were 40% higher for no detectable reasons, year to year, another one of those mysteries I attempted to resolve when the hounds of hell broke all over me. Then, having this same bullshit happen here means that they are at this same bullshit, jacking up my power bill for no reason except for gratuitous fuckery. This from the assholes who don't need to tap into any AC power source from anywhere as they can get energy from the omniplasma continuum as one researcher termed empty space.
That I got a sudden urge to file papers that had been lying around for months before "thinking" that I should get on with the reply to the pension managers per above, wasn't a fluke. Then with the papers filed, and after going down to the basement locker to dig in the boxes, why, I end up placing these new found papers where the other ones were, the just-vacated desk space. Funny how that happens.
Naturally my red shirt posse was in place at the office shop where I did my photocopying, ditzing around and then artfully taking up the post office clerk's time when I wanted to get a book of stamps. I gave up on that, and walked back. But what I cannot figure out is why the perps even plant the notion for me to get stamps, (or, let me retain my own notion of doing so), the one block to the office supplies store, and then set up this bullshit to stymie the accomplishment at the last moment. They also had me geared up to go one block more to the ATM to deposit a check, but in this case, notion retention wasn't allowed, and it was only when I was mostly home did I suddenly "remember" about the ATM visit I need to make. It is fucking bizarre that my intentions are getting constantly thwarted, down to the most trivial circumstances.
1923h
Some new pics;
This is the beam-on-me at dusk onset, the putative "cause" being a reflection, but a very focussed and unerring one, that repeatedly shines off the tower and onto the closed curtain. I have no idea what the concentric rings are over the tower, and another oddity is the building shadow is tinged with navy blue. The shadow is of this building I live in, and there is no conventional explanation for a blue tinged shadow, the only possible cause which could be errant building glass reflections, and there is no glass that would cause it. Taken together, 04-24-2010, 1743h; the inside view of the beam, which sometimes can illuminate the room, getting through the curtain, but not this time seemingly.
Taken 04-30-2010, 0938h. Nothing wacko, just generally an odd arrangement of greyscale mid-greys that match the navy blue tones, two of them. Three mid-grey vehicles with one just moving into the picture on the left above the rail. Other greyscale colors are the white van (a ubiquitous gangstalk vehicle), and the black Mercedes with the odd extra reflection off its roof, presumably to reduce the blackness. And even the motorcycle cop gets in on it with a mid-grey motorcycle. Is there a TI out there that hasn't been aprised of who the police really work for?
2115h
Back to work again, getting screwed into eating Malteasers and two 100g milk chocolate bars, on the heels of getting my teeth professionally scraped and cleaned. The never let up. And a round of screaming at the assholes as they wouldn't let me operate my fingers to open the bulldog (spring metal) clip to seal the half empty Malteasers bag. They like to do this, as there is some kind of gain for them to be had with stressed or compressed metals at hand, and what better time to then enrage the victim so to get more energetic interaction. Maybe only 15 to 20 seconds worth at full volume. For the first time since 2006 they are letting me rage-ifiy at full volume, as they wouldn't let me before. No complaints so far, especially after this morning's fucking outrage, per above.
2220h
Some troving online to chase down map cabinets as I have been the one tasked to put them online for sale for the First Feral Family. And lo, if I didn't upload those pics too, but to my email account so I can view them from elsewhere. Not unlike above picture uploading. And that is how it goes these days, commonality of action, syntax or even phonetic sounds in differing contexts and applications over the day. All part of the relentless grind down.
Enough putzing around, time to post this and call this sometimes incendary, and sometimes dull day done. (Then there is the alliterations that get scripted over and over).
A ringing rage show this morning; the coffee magically gushed from the Bodum carafe as I was gently pushing down the filter stem, lid on. One of those No-Ostensible-Cause events, as they won't even let me push down the filter stem in less than 30 seconds for the 8" it has to travel. And this time, likely in preparation of going to the dentist, the assholes decided to splatter the carafe, stovetop and stove front to the floor with coffee, their very favorite brown substance/reference, at least going by the Coffee Corps on gangstalking duty. And I was duly rage-ified to the max for at least a minute of screaming at the assholes, all at 0700h. Needless to say, the noisestalking started up during this, and follow-on rage-fication stunts of lesser duration were scripted to keep the rage continuity going for the next 40 minutes.
Then onto the dentist to get my teeth cleaned, and the city bus freakshow and more musical seat games. This time it was the blonde babe with the yellow (paper) envelope who got on the same bus stop as I did, and halfway there she exits, and the large fat woman in black walks the length of the bus to then sit in the just-vacated blonde's seat. Part of attempting to catch the blonde (Favored) "glow"/auric energy with that of an Unfavored fat girl. The dude force was also in place around me, one tailing me off the bus, and across the street, in a fugly green jacket, and still doing the scarf thing in May. And a negro woman on board as well; more of the Unfavored insertations it would seem. But no fugly negro dude at the dentist's office this time, but one never knows where the next one is coming from, or how ludicrous it is at times to see so many when they are less than 3% of the population, per demographic statistics. And the dude near me in the transverse seats on the rear wheel well, who was doing the lean-forward as if he was about to take a crap, did the full bus length walk, touches the paper bus timetables in the cargo area on top of the front wheel well, and then returns to the rear door to exit. Bizarre bullshit all the time.
And yet again, they had me make a piss in mid-dental treatment, just before getting the green rinse. I have never had to piss so often in the middle of events that I could reasonably wait for. And of course, here at online land, they force piss breaks at strategic intervals, say, before some select, copy and paste Windows actions, one of their all time favorite noisestalking events.
Other anomalies while in the dental chair were plasmic beams coming off dental tools, and not flare or abberations from my glasses as I didn't have them on. I get these when in the bathroom doing my own dental hygiene twice per day, this faux reflectace off objects with a visible white light beam that projects from the reflective spot for some 2" to 4". Like those attachments for camera lenses that create this flare from a fine grid in the attachment.
1400h
I see that someone tidied up my image files on my PC for me. I was in a three way mess due to partial and later complete recovery of backups of the 2008 pictures that disappeared altogether for a time. I had used a file compare/merge utility and got further into making a mess, though more orderly, and then left it that state, hoping for a better tool to manipulate files and directories. I tried a few, but none were up to the job, so I was going to use the first used file management utility but the directories that I created weren't there. Totally gone, and with a very unique name that could not be missed. Anyhow, the source, and the two backup directories were all the same, contents and all, so there was nothing to fix up any more. It is extremely rare that I get the perps cleaning up their messes, though to be fair, I don't really know for sure if some files got deleted. Another one of those mystery events that appears to be beneficial.
1750h
Some bureaucratic activity this afternoon; the ex is doing a pension split application and has misstated the years together IMHO. So, in keeping with the perp's obsession over paper and where it is from, all the way back to the paper mill, I had to dig out tax returns to 1999, and prove my residence in Everett going back to mid-1999. I find it most curious that some papers, like the rental contract with the landlord of a sizeable apartment complex, cannot be found, where other documents are findable. I have no knowledge that I threw them out as I have been most particular, especially since this abuse came on in 04-2002, because even the monthly utility bills will demonstrate residence among other things. And for that matter, strangely peaking power bills that were 40% higher for no detectable reasons, year to year, another one of those mysteries I attempted to resolve when the hounds of hell broke all over me. Then, having this same bullshit happen here means that they are at this same bullshit, jacking up my power bill for no reason except for gratuitous fuckery. This from the assholes who don't need to tap into any AC power source from anywhere as they can get energy from the omniplasma continuum as one researcher termed empty space.
That I got a sudden urge to file papers that had been lying around for months before "thinking" that I should get on with the reply to the pension managers per above, wasn't a fluke. Then with the papers filed, and after going down to the basement locker to dig in the boxes, why, I end up placing these new found papers where the other ones were, the just-vacated desk space. Funny how that happens.
Naturally my red shirt posse was in place at the office shop where I did my photocopying, ditzing around and then artfully taking up the post office clerk's time when I wanted to get a book of stamps. I gave up on that, and walked back. But what I cannot figure out is why the perps even plant the notion for me to get stamps, (or, let me retain my own notion of doing so), the one block to the office supplies store, and then set up this bullshit to stymie the accomplishment at the last moment. They also had me geared up to go one block more to the ATM to deposit a check, but in this case, notion retention wasn't allowed, and it was only when I was mostly home did I suddenly "remember" about the ATM visit I need to make. It is fucking bizarre that my intentions are getting constantly thwarted, down to the most trivial circumstances.
1923h
Some new pics;
This is the beam-on-me at dusk onset, the putative "cause" being a reflection, but a very focussed and unerring one, that repeatedly shines off the tower and onto the closed curtain. I have no idea what the concentric rings are over the tower, and another oddity is the building shadow is tinged with navy blue. The shadow is of this building I live in, and there is no conventional explanation for a blue tinged shadow, the only possible cause which could be errant building glass reflections, and there is no glass that would cause it. Taken together, 04-24-2010, 1743h; the inside view of the beam, which sometimes can illuminate the room, getting through the curtain, but not this time seemingly.
Taken 04-30-2010, 0938h. Nothing wacko, just generally an odd arrangement of greyscale mid-greys that match the navy blue tones, two of them. Three mid-grey vehicles with one just moving into the picture on the left above the rail. Other greyscale colors are the white van (a ubiquitous gangstalk vehicle), and the black Mercedes with the odd extra reflection off its roof, presumably to reduce the blackness. And even the motorcycle cop gets in on it with a mid-grey motorcycle. Is there a TI out there that hasn't been aprised of who the police really work for?
2115h
Back to work again, getting screwed into eating Malteasers and two 100g milk chocolate bars, on the heels of getting my teeth professionally scraped and cleaned. The never let up. And a round of screaming at the assholes as they wouldn't let me operate my fingers to open the bulldog (spring metal) clip to seal the half empty Malteasers bag. They like to do this, as there is some kind of gain for them to be had with stressed or compressed metals at hand, and what better time to then enrage the victim so to get more energetic interaction. Maybe only 15 to 20 seconds worth at full volume. For the first time since 2006 they are letting me rage-ifiy at full volume, as they wouldn't let me before. No complaints so far, especially after this morning's fucking outrage, per above.
2220h
Some troving online to chase down map cabinets as I have been the one tasked to put them online for sale for the First Feral Family. And lo, if I didn't upload those pics too, but to my email account so I can view them from elsewhere. Not unlike above picture uploading. And that is how it goes these days, commonality of action, syntax or even phonetic sounds in differing contexts and applications over the day. All part of the relentless grind down.
Enough putzing around, time to post this and call this sometimes incendary, and sometimes dull day done. (Then there is the alliterations that get scripted over and over).
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