Lattes on Snow

1510h
Yes, it is the Coffee Corps again, chasing me around town with brown colored substances, and today, with the benefit of lingering snow on the sidewalks, they have tossed lattes onto the snow along my path when doing my one and only Christmas shopping. That is, they have placed puke brown splotches on my route, and ensured they were all added today, as there were none around on the same route after the abortive shopping trip yesterday. And too, there were some lattes spilled on bare pavement cleaned of snow, all to provide some kind of color reference between on snow and on bare sidewalk puke brown splotches. Need I remind regular readers that my tormentors are fixated on introducing me to the color of brown, in all its hues and tones, but only in small amounts. A full on brown vehicle is a rare sight, and even the light metallic brown vehicles come with a posse of greyscale toned vehicles around them. They did put on a dark brown down coated Fuckwit ahead of me at one store today, but that was only an transient situation before he disappeared into the crowd there. So, onto Lululemmon for a gift certificate where they were comparatively few gangstalkers. This is the store they fucked me out of knowing where it was yesterday, and I was within 20m of it.

Then on the way back, another Coffee Corps dude was on me, bearing his green cardboard tray with a coffee and then tailing me for a block, taking a short cut through a parking lot, and ending up on my tail again after I had turned 90 degrees. This is twice in two days this same fuckery has "happened"; a tail, thought to be long gone, reprises again for more unabashed following. I don't think the CIA would do something so obvious, and I am no international spy if that helps clear up any confusion.

And twice in two days, when W. bound on Yates St., and only a block apart, I get an vehicular rundown attempt; some Fuckwit blows by a red light and turns a right corner crossing my path ahead of me, timed for extra closeness because that is the current perp mandate. And also of note, in both instances I was the only person at the intersection who was about to be rundown. That takes real planning as there is usually a surfeit of gangstalkers around me at every street corner. I have seen assigned drivers blowing yellow and even red lights, and that now applies to city buses too. This seems part of the games to limit the vacancy time in a given public location; having a perp sponsored vehicle arranged to keep running red lights, intersection after intersection. Yet more public beserkness that erupted in this town, post 2002 when this life rape began.

And I am due to do my cleaning job earlier tonight at the Pacific Mazda dealership, before I eat dinner. I expect plenty of extra-conventional gravitic fuckery tonight to keep me riled up while working alone. Back to the vocalization "need" after being provoked by dirt, sand or other debris magically arriving after I have cleaned up an area. It is getting fucking tiresome to say the least. And those long used brown Douglas fir (conifer) needles that erupted all over my apartment in my hiking days are making a "comeback" as portable brown color references for the just-cleaned surfaces,- floors, counters, tables etc. Regular readers and TI's will know that the perps bring on their greatest harassment of me just before eating a meal. The digestion process and its attendant color changes are still bedeviling the perps for them to remotely detect these, and hence, forced delay of mealtime to continue the fuckery for longer. And I suppose the dusk onset will be occuring then, another perp silly season of each day.

The perps are still all over me with extra noise, forced farts, extra-gravitic fuckery, plasma and maser beams during color changes in my proximity. Examples of these color changes would be making the bed, putting clothes on or off, steeping of tea, making coffee (peculiar differentials in brown tones), flushing the toilet with its contents, and others which don't come to mind at the moment.

1945h
I thought something exceptional was going to happen tonight with the "no dinner" work session, and lo, I was not dissapointed. The mopping bucket "went missing" and I went all over the building for 15 minutes looking to no avail. This is the lastmost, but important activity of our janitorial work. It culminates all our efforts and means that we usually don't walk there anymore for fear of tracking more filth on the floors. I made preparations to clean a sink of grease to we could put our mops in it, but later, as it "so happened", the downstairs business returned it. It was a surprise to say the least, and a fucking waste of time. The parts dude was even still there, and he "helped" to look for a time in his black leather jacket and his unlit cigarette dangling from his lips. Another character from a bad movie it would seem.

It was an early start to work as the business closed early for their Christmas party; I arrrived at 1600h, and they seemed pleased about that, apart from the odd look from the blonde as if to say, "poor man". Which really means that I am to interpret this, and it seems that blondes have been exercising more strange looks of late. This being part of the perp's "blonde stalking"; have them put on more stern, if not hostile looks, even if there is no interaction whatsover, just passing by. I noticed this two weeks ago on the Sunday Global TV news hour; XYZ (the station's web site is now without pictures) looked very stern/pissed off when giving the news for the entire show, and the next week she was putting on the smiles and charm.

And why is it happening so often that when someone is going to divulge a big story they end up expiring beforehand? Karen Silkwood was the first known instance of this "fluke" association, and now Carl Rove's email burying computer systems administrator was having a crisis of confidence and he ends up deceased through an supposed aircraft accident. There is just too many of these events going on to be anything but arranged IMHO. This story from At Largely tells of Mike Connell and Larisa Alexandrovna is careful not to call this a conspiracy like any responsible journalist. Call me irresponsible if you like, but after finding out that nothing in my life was unarranged (it seems, especially since 2002), then one comes to the realization that one can be manipulated and commandeered much like a mechanical object without so much as a clue that it was happening, just as I write this. If the perps can have me drive down a one-way street in the wrong direction in one example, then at another time, have me resume driving through a red light after stopping at it, (other road traffic cleared in both instances), and even have me start to cross a street on foot when there is an oncoming vehicle, (they had me stop and turn back), then anyone can be mindfucked into any actions whatsover, as even the concept of one's own personal safety can also be remotely manipulated.

Call me a conspiracist if that helps, but I didn't become one until immersed in this outrageous mind and life raping exercise and was led to a number of coincidences as to the arrangement of my circumstances with other events in the news. I think there is far more manipulation of events going on that we realize. My high school physics teacher responded to a question once, saying "if you control gravity, you control the entire world". Well, guess what; I see and experience extra-conventional gravitic manipulations every day, and it is dynamically applied, often in response to what I am doing at the time. And should I go off script and be in a position to say, get through a door faster than they planned, I will find myself dithered as to which key is what and expend cognitive effort in a never before way, attempting to figure out what key goes where when this was basic knowledge. The last time something like that happened was in 2005.

And I see that my featureless icon bar in Blogger has become more disfunctional, as the provision for inclusion of pictures has been messed with. Yesterday's photos might be the last ones for a while as Blogger has been slowly degraded on me.

2100h
More manipulations; throat clearing for no reason and then coincident street shouting starts up. Then a forced fart with the armrests of my chair clicking away, one on each side, and no matter if I wasn't leaning on them at the time. These "self clicking" armrests have started doing this since 2004 and my complaints about the lack of authenticity have falled on deaf ears.

I am being rendered restless and without activity to do; it seems that the perps like to have me be idle, and yet be restless at the same time. I have never figured out their need to enforce no work periods; many a summer job had a spell where there was absolutely nothing to do, often covered up as weather downtime (couldn't fly the only vehicle, the helicopter) or as crewing problems. It is totally bizarre, and I won't suggest for a minute that today's deteriorating economy is planned by the perps, but they are certainly able to readily capitalize on events that might not have their fingerprints on them.

2250h
I got lost in a digital photography site, getting my knowledge of these updated, though I don't expect to be purchasing one, ever. My one Panasonic camera that "survived" the street assault must be my assigned camera for the perps. I have no complaints, and the hobby might interest me if I get all my archive pictures scanned one day. The same deal though; nothing much is affordable at current disability allowance, no matter how one cuts it. And the perps just love to run their victims into debt, and I just might pull out of it in a year if current trends continue of having a 1 hr. x 6 day per week job.

Enough of this rambling, and time to sign off.

Browser Crash and Phone Call Confluence

1045h
The perps crashed my Firefox browser session, and then blocked the Restore Session dialog box when I got it back up. And at that moment of swearing at the assholes over this intrusion, they scheduled the usual Sunday phone call with my mother over later arrangements for me to get to her place. Then the church bells started up again, another one of those "coincidence" events that has been known to "erupt" on cue, even if not Sunday. More noises joined the fray while composing this litany of annoyances, including the chirping tire noises the perps like to script.

All in a morning's harassment, and it isn't over yet.

One jerkaround of many that set me off earlier was the planted misperception while reading; the mind controlled me read (mispercieved) "hated" for "rated" and when I trapped the error and re-read the line, the noisestalking started up. This life is a constant assault on the senses, down to the smallest of details, and that includes one's vision, as there is nearly always aberrant images formed by the ongoing plasma and maser show, and now, an object can be rendered distorted or anomalous when in fact it isn't, as the perps now can isolate an object in my visual field and misrepresent it, and not anything else. Another long running stunt that is getting greater airtime is adding colored plasma "features" to extant objects in a fleeting manner.

One example of a momentary planted plasmic (visual) aberration this morning was adding a mid-brown streak into my dark brown hair while I was looking in the mirror, though engaged in another activity. And when I looked again (trapping the "error"), this seeming anomalous streak of hair color was gone. And it so happens, it replicated the very modification of one of the regular yoga class member's hair of a week ago. This woman had the same colored brown streak dyed into her jet black hair, as it was clearly not an momentary plasmic aberration. Anyhow, I don't know much about her, but as she attends both yoga and strength training, I see her more often than other "class members", and the prescribed social interaction arrangement she has with me is the all too-typical friendly/unfriendly deal. Another one of those who seem to be highly mercurial for reasons that are not entirely clear except by orchestration. And as with any of the more regular shills/operatives, the game, meaning planted thought pattern, is to figure out if this is someone I know but in morph-over form.

And this has become a big deal for the perps, though they put me through it for whatever reasons that aren't clear to me.Sometimes, I (or the mind-controlled me) will recognize some familiar features of someone I know in a passing ambulatory gangstalker operative. Usually, if "I" make a reasonable deduction, the operative in question will stop, turn their head away, or otherwise engage in a subtle pose to signify my recognazince. And this "recognition" may well be planted too. But in any event, it is clear that this is some kind of ongoing game to elicit some kind of neural energetic response that the perps are looking for. Since they can morph anyone into any form, except perhaps across genders, it is clear to me that I may be looking at someone I know in a different form, or the similarities are planted, and it is an erroneous deduction. Either way, the game carries on, and the reality is that I cannot really be bothered as to who is pretending to be who, or if that is in fact valid. But there is one consistent woman that is utilized, starting with the Ms. C and Ms. L of the story, one black haired and overweight, the latter blonde and underweight, who are likely the same person, just in different guises. And it could well be that she is also utilized in many of the ongoing gangstalking arrangements, either in public or my activity classes. Again, if left to me, it is a "who cares" issue, as I cannot prove anything in this respect.

My two brothers' features are often "telegraphed", given characteristic features that signify it is them, (or likely so) and in a final over-the-top flagrant morphed-over event, the "character" is then retired. (For example, a hair color change for the same gangstalker, grey to brown). And as it "so happens", "I" (as in mind-controlled and constrained me), never bring this topic up with them when I see them next. Or, if allowed, then my questioning skills are comprimised as well as any other analytical capabilities by "failing" to look at them while answering the question. This never happened before, and so the absence of interogation skills is another (new) tip-off that the party in question may well have been that smirking rube on the hiking trail last week.

The former swim club thought-to-be colleagues are another group from which like-featured gangstalkers are morphed from, and if it were left to me, I wouldn't bother with any of this speculative bullshit that I have been burdened with.

1230h
A two hour session of forced awakeness and agitation in flipping my head side to side and repositioning my feet, hands, and legs before being allowed to go to sleep last night. As part of the deal I was treated to street hollaring noise from outside, as well as the special noise stunts from the supposed city traffic.Why the perps started this up on a Saturday night instead of the usual Monday night I don't know, but they do like to change up any regular events should I be allowed to notice a consistent periodicity.

1325h
Another swearing stream over all the incursions imposed over making lunch; non-stop vocalization while the noisescape of continues at greater volume outside. It never ends; the perps biggest play is to piss me of and have me "complain" all the way up to rage-ification.

And in conjunction with the above vocalizations, the underwear hem flipping started up. As I have been constrained in using the black colored acrylic fabric underwear for the past 10 months, the perps now are expanding their experimentation to black cotton underwear. This "new" harassment/experimentation vector is accompanied by these constant games of flipping the hems back and forth, the underwear being under my jeans. As mentioned in past blogs, the assholes have a total obsession over clothing color, mine and everyone proximate to me. And the current bad-girl starlets of celebrity fame who aren't always wearing their underwear in public, just may be unwittingly aiding this current perp obsession over under clothing energetics research from a distance. The world is more connected than we know, and in my case, allowed to know.

1445h
Time to blog off for the day, as the Sunday pickup by my parent's is imminent, and their PC is too hopeless (by design) to continue with blogging from there. And I am almost falling asleep as I write this, but hopefully no more nap attacks like this past week.