One Time Riffing Posting

06-02-2019
Normally I add diary postings over the week and then wrap it up for a weekly posting, usually on Sundays if I don't get messed around or else backed up with other essential things. (Like attending to matters that were inexplicably delayed by the other party).

This time it is a little different in that I am attempting to pull this together in one sitting, not having made any notes or entries over the week. Naturally, the immediacy of the orchestrated idiocy and assaults (sometimes insults) will have diminished. I still yet don't have a handle on whether my readership wants the slings and arrows in all their detail, summaries thereof, or my ponderings as to what is driving the perps to such insane ends that they cannot openly declare their experiment on the human race, or even to us lowly TI's and the daily travails and adversities we are subjected to. Anyhow, I just roll on, usually with a mixture of these, and a few other related tangents. Not that I have hit the mother lode on finding a commonality with anyone, a group or even a TI. It just seems that whenever I meet TI's, (and they are genuine ones), I get the feeling that I am a temporary prop, possibly directed even.

Could be worse I suppose; one irresponsible TI claimed I was a perp without any due diligence of course. Makes me wonder if it wasn't the accuser. And for the record, I am not; every fucking day I deal with imposed adversity that is at least an order of magnitude greater before these unknown personnel searched my place in 04-2002, then invaded it with many unconventional technologies, as well as displaying their capabilities of teleportation and telekinetic fuckery, not to mention their infinite capacity to orchestrate my existence and especially notable by arranging gangstalkers around me at every turn. These Psychopathic Confederates have been very consistent since then, one of the most prevalent methods is to piss me off. Which they do at least 80x/day, and on a rough day, 200x. Pulling items from my grasp is a stock stunt, as is riling me up by thwarting my intentions, and especially when attempting to complete some task.

Anyhow, lets get back to the week. A hot one in the Okanagan Valley; easily 30C each day, often getting hazy in the afternoon, and a few clouds then too. Even a few thunderclouds and a thunder in the distance. I was on vineyard work all week; shoot thinning is running big right now, which is removing extra shoots so that there is less crop load and the vine canopy has sufficient airflow. The shoots are easier to remove now, at about 6-12" long that when they are 36" long and have to be cut out, as pulling them would damage the adjacent shoots that one intends to keep. And do the perps ever love screwing me over when it comes to "accidentally" removing the intended shoot that I wanted to keep. You know, "inadvertently" snagging a leaf of the keeper shoot in the process of removing the intended shoot. I call this "Pyrrhic Progress", damaging or destroying what one intends to keep. (Often they time this stunt when I have an alternative remaining, so not all is lost). They pull a similar stunt in the winter when pruning; "accidentally" (by way of imposed mindfuck) having me cut off the very cane that I wanted to leave for the source of the shoots that year. (One has to select a healthy cane (lignified shoot) that arises from the central area of the vine trunk that is below the horizontal wire on which it is later tied to, usually before May in this region). The good news that these forced "accidental" or deliberate mindfuck incursions are much less than they were when I started vineyard work in 2012.

Speaking of sabotage, the Psychopaths pulled a new one two days ago, or rather, a new variation of footwear sabotage. I was in the habit of putting my boots outside to dry off for a few hours after work, especially as it was so hot, and the boots could dry out faster and not stink the place out. I put on the alarm for two hours or so and then retrieve them, as all too often, the assholes had me "forget", and lo, they were soaked from overnight rain or the irrigation. (Another one of the perps' fetishes is messing with water sources; from drinking, household supply, cleaning etc.). All was going well this week, the routine was nailed down, and the boots were dried out, retrieved and placed inside for the evening. And lo, if the assholes didn't fuck me out of setting the alarm, and lo, if they didn't wipe out my adversity vigilance (normally set at a considerably high level, per constant experience), as to responding to the noise of lawn irrigation water hitting the outside wall every few minutes. As it "happened" the landlord inexplicably turned on the lawn irrigation manually in the evening when it is programmatically set for early in the morning. Well done asshole; you filled my boots (not on the lawn, but somehow the sprinkler got them anyhow) with 1/2" of water and soaked the leather as well. And how many fuckups did we have leading up to this? At least three; 1) I was mindfucked out of setting the alarm, 2) and exercising my normal associative vigilance and 3) the landlord "acting up" and putting on the irrigation for no seeming reason. (The lawn was healthy).

But the Psychopathic assholes weren't done yet; I dried the boots out, and put them on today for a different vineyard gig, and lo, if they "somehow" didn't shrink, and were uncomfortable to wear all day today. (It just wasn't enough that all my boots shrank last year, (or else my feet inexplicably grew), so that I ended up wearing thinner socks to be able to wear all of them comfortably again). I am pissed beyond measure, as the assholes have constantly sabotaged these boots, as they do with all my footwear. It just "happens" this gets expensive; $200 for the boots, then at least 3x $100+ repairs (two sole replacements, one heel rebuild). The leather is also cracking up no matter what treatment I do, so I figured I would get one more season out of them. But no, unless I go another round of of having them fixed or stretched, or whatever, they are finished. And as it "happens" the perps just love to bend my ankles over, so good stiff hiking boots are vital for my vineyard work. Anyone else can work in sneakers, or below ankle boots, but because the assholes pull these ankle bending stunts so often (to "cause" sprains), I must use over-ankle stiff boots. Well done you assholes, just what I needed; the expense of another pair of boots with a target painted on them for yet more years of sabotage assaults of premature wear, sole repairs and rebuilds along with the inevitable months in the shop to get them fixed. Cannot the perps fuck my footwear enough? Seemingly not. Never mind the wretched shopping experience to obtain appropriate replacements.

And they weren't finished on the sabotage front; my headphones packed it in yet again. This particular pair have been sent across the country to the repair depot at least 3x in the past seven years, and this will make it at least repair depot trip #5 (read on). I hate in in-ear products, and all the more as the perps manipulate them to fall out or otherwise become a Pain-In-the-Ear (PIE). Perhaps I should consider myself "lucky" on this one, as they haven't just "fallen apart" or disintegrated like so many other makes. This same pair was sent to the shop in 2003 after it was used at work to prevent the punishing head pains which came on after they first went berserk/overt on 04-2002. The headphones worked admirably to prevent the directed head pains they were hammering me with. That is, until the assholes sabotaged them by turning the vertical post by itself, so that the gimbel mount fell apart. All these years, and yet I clearly remember being absolutely astonished that the metal post was spinning all by itself and grinding the plastic gimbel mount so that it could not be worn. (Almost) needless to say, the replacement headphones duly fell apart in short order so I was without this form of protection from these intensely painful head pain assaults. Later I put magnets in my mouth and foiled the insane bastards for a while, but then they remotely degaussed the magnets and rendered them useless.

Enough tripping down memory lane, none of it good. And to call this a posting for the week, such as it is.

Sticky Negro at Work

12-03-2018
A negro wall covering tradesman was hounding my ass at work yesterday, a Monday, the usual day for escalated perp fuckery. Said fellow was working on wall coverings, and on one room I was working on, both his appearances seemed totally gratuitous. Hanging around, admiring my work cart for crissakes, and then fumbling around and handling one of my tools. For his second act, timed perfectly just when I started applying PL glue, and after his dissembling banter, he then declared he wanted to use the door to outside which was blocked by a tradesman's ladder. How fucking lame was that, when no one uses that door anyhow?

In the afternoon we met up again in another room where the same negro was putting on wall covering ahead of me so that I could then put on the chair railings afterward. A skunky looking Asian joined him as well, who took it upon himself to borrow my tin snips for crissakes. The three of us nattered on and off, each doing our respective jobs and got along fine. I find it interesting that the perps put on negro stalkers from time to time, all the more evident in that they are as rare as hen's teeth in these here parts. But I suppose some are going to show up somewhere, especially in a trades situation where many trades are converging, often with personnel from across Canada.

12-04-2018
A visit to the oncologist in Kelowna today, and the news is mixed. My PSA score went up a little, deviating from the expected trajectory of it going down some more, below 1.0. My summertime PSA was 1.2, and it went up to 1.4 last week. So... more doubt, (aka big time FUD) as another test is scheduled in three months, and depending on the result, a possible further test with a radioactive tracer in Vancouver. The perps just love that shit; having radioactive tracers clinically injected and then a following scan. Two bone scans in 2016-17 needed technetium, and the SPECT scans of 2001 before the assholes went berserk/overt in 04-2002. And a seemingly needless MRI in 2000. Woohoo... another dimension to perp fuckery is radioactive tracer infusion with a following scan. As if being irradiated daily by a conformal beam gamma ray beam for 6 weeks last year wasn't enough.

And it was too much; based on my yoga competency I finally feel I am pulling out of the hole the radiotherapy treatment put me into. With a big assist from my ADD Rx, started 07-2018. Though I still have infuriating side effects that I won't go into, and today's visit to the oncologist didn't provide any optimism. Another year  possibly he says.

A tattoo-free new yoga instructor yesterday. (So it would seem that the prior instructor's tattoos were too disgusting for the perps to gain whatever intelligence they were looking for while I avoided this grotesque Unfavored visage). I have encountered this instructor before, and she is decidedly worth looking at. (And she "happened" to be at the SOF supermarket for two of my visits in the prior four weeks). From 15 yogis per class regularly and now it is suddenly down to 6 of us. I cannot see that she would deter attendance, as it was a good work out. And as it "happened" the only yogi who says hello to me was in the foyer when I arrived, she having finished her class. She also has the distinction of the only yogi with whom I have had physical contact in class as a result of a one time instruction session about two years ago. Interesting that this yogi now only shows up at these transitional junctures almost exclusively.

12-05-2018
Just when I was figuring that this construction gig was done, why, a new task in attending to the "deficiencies" as they call them in the business. In this case, mill work installation that isn't up to scratch in the eyes of the general contractor. I have cleaning and caulking on my list. Though this didn't occur as straightforwardly as it seems. First the foreman said there wasn't much to do, so I was to install chair rails only partially in two rooms that weren't finished. I get the work cart all ready, tools and supplies, get it up to the floor, and then I a call from the foreman that there is a "deficiency list" to attend to. So... I retrieve the work cart, put the tools and supplies away, and then attend to my new task that continued all week. The off-then-on again stunt, this time with employment termination injected into the mix. Been there, done that, and all in keeping with the perp's insane prerogative over the employment theme.

12-07-2018
What is it about stalkers on on my ass at every turn, literally, as I make turns at certain corridor corners especially at the hospital construction site? Yes, these are central locations that hundreds, if not thousands, of personnel, patients and vistors will make  when the building is occupied for decades to come. So just leave me the fuck out of it as I don't realy expect to be there very often, if at all. And what is it about the perps and their insane hospital theme they need to keep hammering me with?

This three time loser -(Penticton Herald newspaper, and Ignani is his handle should the link disappear) from a shithole state; now in the local news for kidnapping a couple and then when the trial starts (featured locally), one of kidnap victims skips the country, and the other cannot remember a thing in court (she claims) and has disavowed her police statement at the time. Is this some kind of joke or what? How  could anyone ever forget such a traumatic incident? The shitholer has already done 42 months in jail, awaits another trial for assault in jail, and is now in the middle of this court farce for 10 counts related to his kidnapping of the couple. No doubt this woman's "memory failure" is on account of the kidnapper's further nefarious dealings, as in threats or cash.

Lets check out the kidnapper's total past and future taxpayer tab: 42 months at $150k/year in jail. Then this trial and the next one; likely to be another $500k in legal and incarceration costs that this mofo has rung up by the time he is sentenced. And then this $1m loser cannot be sent back to where he came from (say the immigration apologists) because he might be executed in Iran. I say fuck it; let the Iranians deal with their very own spawn and have them do us all a favor. The limp-wristed do-gooding limousine liberals that created this legal absurdity need a wake-up call to stop acting like ruinous spendy naive boy scouts and  to demonstrate some gumption in dealing with such financial squandering. (The said kidnapper's trade seems to be drug trafficker, so do we need this shitholer anyhow?) Trump has got it right on this one, as profane and crude as he is. As for Canada, we won't ever get it, as the bleating media hasn't got the gumption of a wet rag. Nor will we ever get anything close to a Trump, as sorely as it is needed. Talk about pressing all my buttons.

I am doing a lot of caulking this week, laying a bead of just the right size of sealant at the join of counter and wall surfaces, matching my caulking gun travel speed with the trigger pressure, which is also moderated by the size the the gap that I see coming up. It gets very zen, pulling all these dynamic parameters into play and doing it right. And just when I get there, why, some kind of interruption then "happens" to screw it up, often just a little, but a disruption all the same. "Somehow" I need to make an extra step, I run into something, my fingers somehow just don't do what I want etc. and the caulking bead "somehow" goes too thin or thick or else the irregularly bead globs up. (All fixable by later (many) iterative passes with moistened fingers and cloths, but more work all the same). And have I mentioned before how much the perps just love to disrupt a zen moment, or otherwise level of competence attainment just so they can fuck it up and cause extra work and perturb me, sometimes to extreme levels (though not at a paid job)? And just what is their problem that they simply must jerk me around as soon as competence/total task engagement develops?

And what is it about other tradesmen, sometimes tradeswomen, who "need" to lean on my work cart at the hospital construction site? Usually it takes place in the elevator, a more compressed room if you will, where someone puts their hand on my work cart that has my tools and supplies on it. Like WTF; it isn't as if they are off balance, or the work cart is shoved up beside them, but they do this, perhaps 2-4x/week. It must be some kind of energetic comparison, where this shill/operative needs to replicate their interaction with the same work cart. That is, replicate and have it compared to me, with me having pushed it into position, though not necessarily touching it at that moment they are.

The most egregious example of this work cart touching games last week was this apparent electrician, a woman who came along and plopped her paper plans on my work cart while I was about 4' away, and no one else was around. (I was attending to a room's "deficiencies", and not even close to an elevator). She doesn't look up, doesn't ask, just "happens" by and dumps her papers on my cart for a minute or two. Fucking rude, and just as bad as the E. Indians on the work site. Which, in speaking with the general contractor superintendent, seems to be a common complaint with that lot. It isn't just me.

Enough rants for the week, and to wind down my last week as a construction laborer. Though I really don't have any complaints, as it is much more interesting than vineyard work.

Fire Season

07-18-2018
Some very hot and sunny days this past week, and if one has followed this blog over the years, they have come to know that this invites wildfires. And with an unforecasted lightning storm (ahem) late yesterday, why, we have 400 strikes and now 22 wildfires burning in the Okanagan Valley.

And a flurry of aircraft overhead in the vineyard today, nearly non-stop. Many were wildfire related, but others weren't. And lo, only a half kilometer away, someone started some kind of fire at a farm that poured out thick black smoke, as if burning tires.

The perps like a good fire, and explosions even better, though the latter are usually reserved for war time thankfully. I don't know quite why they have such an interest in pyrotechnics, apart from a catchphrase I picked up, fire being a "space time ripper", whatever that means.

And for the last two days the perps have had me in a high vexation state at work, attempting to get these wretched Tapener tie down tools to work. I hated them from years ago, most vineyard people hate them, but for "some reason" the boss man was enamored with the thing, and purchased one for me to tie up the now growing floppy vines we planted last year. The tool must feed tape, staple and cut and operate in an alternating mode, something too difficult it seems, even if they have made these since 1971 it says on the box. Finally I gave up on this POS tool, and hand tied the tape instead. No efficiency there of course, but hey, at least we got the TI victim infuriated while significant air traffic and road traffic kept up the noise.

07-19-2018
More vine training, tying them up, and again, overhead fire fighting traffic again, given that seven wildfires are still burning in the area.

And more invoked berserk levels of enragement again; finger fumbling, -a severe onset immediately after my first break (having eaten something) and then again after lunch. Nothing new, except the severity and duration, at least 90 minutes each time, and intense swearing at the assholes for pulling the supplies out of my hand just as I was to tie the knot for the tape.

07-20-2018
A blood test this morning, the technician invoking the term, "...abuse you...", in jest as to taking a blood test. How bizarre, and I don't find such a term ever to be humorous, and especially since all this extra-conventional abuse began 04-2002.

Continuing aerial traffic in the vineyard, helicopters and aerial tanker aircraft overhead.

07-21-2018
Saturday, and I worked at a new vineyard part time, leaf plucking. The owner is interesting, and we ended up in a 1.5 hour conversation about healthcare, each airing our issues and perceptions. He was in an automobile accident a few years ago, and is still going through the recovery process. Even with a straight ahead injury complex such as his, his doctor was doing shit until his wife started attending his medical consults, and only then did the doctor start him on tests and rehabilitation initiatives. Interesting, and cause (again) for me to ponder just what is going on; do doctors have a script from someone ahead of time for their patients and work from that? I know this is very conspiratorial, but it just seems that all too often they take patients sideways and engage in diversionary activities like blood pressure evaluations, etc.

07-22-2018
More vineyard work at the part time site. And continuing overhead fire fighting tankers, helicopters and single engine aircraft. Not unlike last year, where the site I worked was on the Penticton Airport approach path, and too, it was a big fire fighting season. Not that my regular vineyard gig is far from the action either, as the closest wildfire is across the lake (Okanagan) almost. It would seem the perps wanted me closer to the airport again, like last year until I left in mid July.

07-28-2018
I have been very busy at both vineyards this past week, usually doing a few hours in the evening at the part time gig.

07-30-2018
Monday, and the part time gig ended yesterday in the sweltering heat. Today was to be 38C (100F), but there was enough haze in the air such that getting a good tan was much reduced. All part of the sunlight diminution games it seems, this ongoing nonconsensual research "issue" for the perps to constantly mess with sunlight levels, and adding in hot weather as well. Regular readers will recall dense smog from wildfires last year for at least four weeks straight, but so far, there is much less smoke in the air.         

And a minor skin burn that "happened" a few weeks ago; "somehow" the plunger for the French press coffee pot got stuck (when it never does), and I was pushing on it, and "somehow" it went sideways, and "somehow" hot coffee blew back out and splattered my chest area with hot coffee. It was a little sore, but having lifted my shirt off and put on a new one, I didn't notice much. A few days later, I notice that I had a skin burn on my left nipple and that the skin was rejuvenating. So now we have a four way skin color test: regular skin and nipple colors, and rejuvenating regular skin and nipple colors. Well done perps; it just wasn't enough to arrange the impossible event of having hot coffee blow back from a lidded French press pot, but it also "happened" to land on a two tone skin region and then cause another two adjacent skin tones to result. When is this brown color testing going to be over?

Note (for Google censors and their absurd anti-nipple campaign evidenced in their auto-nipple removing software in Youtube) this is a male nipple.

 Anyhow, I am at least a week late in getting this posted due to working two jobs these days, as it seems the regular one only has two weeks remaining.

Two Orders Too Many

10-19-2015
Yoga; another "bob" job planted himself beside me, after the prior 14 students left the spot open for him at the last minute before class started. And lo, if the instructor's mat wasn't pulled W again, to facilitate him in blocking my view of her during class. I moved my mat some 12" away so I could see, and he says something (in faux offense), and I said I wanted to see the instructor. Then during class he seemed to have the unerring knack of copycatting my every move, even when I decided to speed up or slow down. And too, spatially, he lined up with me, being larger, I couldn't find I could be closer or further from the front than he as he lined up all the time. This "habit" has been long noted among other mat mates I have given up on reporting it here.

10-20-2015
And why do the perps still need to mess with my online orders? I put two different orders in today, (One Click x2) for one of each of two different CD's from different vendors. And what "happens"? Why the perps mess it up by adding an extra order from a third vendor, and this order has two of the same CD's in it. I get three of one CD from two vendors and one of the other. Making it convenient to send the third one back in its entirety, unopened. And what is the purpose of that except to hit me up with extra mailing and charges, coming and returning. And both were from Amazon resellers, not Amazon.ca themselves, as I have always found Amazon to impeccable and always got the orders right. (Same for resellers too, but hey, if we can lay a glitch on someone it would be easier if it wasn't the big guy.) Somehow, some sick ass perp thought it was funny to hit me up with an extra order for some kind of managed "glitch".

A mostly sleepless night, with the perps getting me up to take a dose of magnesium supplement. Yet again, they have changed up the magnesium formulation, from magnesium citrate to magnesium glyscinate. The former was not on my doctor's list of approved magnesium formulations, but I got screwed into purchasing it when there was no other. And lo, if it wasn't made out to be ineffective as the leg cramps came on last night to get me up. And before that, why, the assholes polluted my dreams as to which magnesium supplement I needed! The few remaining Mg-citrate tablets got flung out, and I started the new Mg-glysinate bottle. And no doubt, that was the entire goal; have me swtich magnesium supplements at 0300h or so. How fucking stupid is that? The perp's interest in magnesium supplement formulation knows no bounds; I think this is the fourth one in three months, and the arranged shopping experience is that the one I want to get is the same one as I had, (assuming it was on the doctor's list, and effective), and yet "somehow" it is not in stock when I return for more.

As nearly always, no tiredness from the abbreviated sleep from last night.

And some relief too, as they didn't hit me me up with the pissing urgency problem while at work. For a while it seemed like they were but somehow the sensation lapsed and I was fine until the afternoon coffee break.

I started a new job today, just half shifts this week, and perhaps that is what the perp excitement, per above, is all about. A forest seedling nursery needs personnel to lift (their term, though they also use extract) the tree seedlings from their growing containers, bundle them, box them, and have the empty containers cleaned and stacked on pallets. The boxes too get stacked on pallets and taken out by the forklift. Yours truly is on both these tasks, alternating between inside the greenhouse and outside, a perfect perp set up. And too, lots of other people around, those mainly being the piece rate folks who pull the seedlings, grade, count and bundle them, and load them into boxes. Plus regular staff to do quality checks and count boxes and monitor the rejected seedlings too.

And of all things, one of the just-hired workers who was on this float duty too, even chatted to me and we had much in common with respect to mutual vineyard work, and even where we were from. Most others are in a head down mode, nothing new there. Plenty of freaks and strange hair; male pony tails, male bobs and tattoos too, though no unnatural hair colors, or at least yet. Lots of brown color dressed workers, one with brown overalls, brown shirt and brown ball cap.

Back in late 2011 they had me work this same job in Victoria  when I was there, and it was early January 2012 when I re-located to where I am now to begin my vineyard labor training, and now, vocation. It would seem that the perps wanted a comparative job at my previous location just before moving away, and now three years later, they invoked this same job at this present location.

10-21-2015
A half day at the forest seedling packing job, this time on extracting from containers, ensuring they meet the grade/specifications, stacking them in bundles of 15, and then wrapping them, and placing them in the shipping boxes. It is piece rate in part, and the perps made sure I was a klutz at this in many ways. The assholes would hop or snag them so they would fall out of alignment, they mind fucked me into "forgetting" how many I packed in a box (21 bundles, no less, or more), and ensured my productivity was on the low side. The boss man in looking for four boxes filled an hour and I did half that almost. I cannot see that I can pull a 100% improvement, let alone attain the level of the best at 5.5 boxes/hour. So much for the big bucks of $15/hour or more on this gig.

The assholes even sabotaged my quality; I had two sub-standard root collar sized trees found on a regular quality check, plus one tree and soil plug with two trees instead of one. Like WTF; I had no problem estimating root collar diameters the whole time, and yet "somehow" two slipped by.

10-22-2015
A visit to the urologist; prostrate; it is healthy, but the number is up. Another visit in six months. I did my spiel on why I was taking testosterone, and the possible cause of the urinary urgency might be neurogenic, as dopamine deprived Parkinson's patients have this same problem. (And a number of other conditions that line up with my conditions over the past two decades). I might as well of talked to a wall. Last Feb. (2015 still), when I indicated that the medication wasn't helping this problem, the message I got via his MA was that the results will vary, and if any continued problems, see my GP. Here I have a urology problem, since addressed (until this last month) due to a supplement I subsequently took , and the urologist is saying go to my GP. Which I don't have as one cannot get one in this town, let alone me in in this contained bubble I am kept in. And did I mention the perps have an abounding interest in dopamine neurochemistry, and likely blocked me getting something done 1997-2000, when three shrinks and a neurologist blew me off about not having ADD when I flat assed told them, and had read the clinical text book on this. Of course there was no dialog even, just changing the topic and plying me with SSRI's and SNRI's which did not work.

A 1030h appointment and still the doctor was backed up for an extra 30 min. wait. The usual waiting room choreography of it being full, and then empties out over the wait time and then when I get out, maybe one or two patients there instead of 10 when I first arrived. It has been the same for the prior three visits.

No helicopters on exiting the urologist's office this time, but a brown gangstalk vehicle was on me first thing just as I was ready to back out.

And heavy on red vehicles these days; having had beetroot soup for the last two days might be the attraction for the perps

Another round of music ordering and "music file finding' convergence; what is the point of purchasing more music. I am fucking broke, and don't wish to purchase anything other than rent, food and gasoline, and I am getting managed to purchase yet more music? Online albums from CD Baby and another source with good prices, more from an artist's site, two CD's purchased used via Amazon (per above). And if that weren't enough, I "find" two albums of an artist that was downloaded but somehow I "missed" unzipping them a few months ago. And another variation was another download that somehow wasn't loading into my player's library until I forced a manual import. All this music convergence from differing sources and provenances and as I always tell the perps, I can only listen to one album at at time, and I have plenty to listen to as it is. So why do I "need" more music (read, am forced to acquire) for some psychopathic perps human experimentation when I cannot fucking afford it?

Or is this week's sudden decline in "needing" chocolate (after 13 years of forced high consumption) going to free up some extra cash? I am not holding my breath after day two of the piece rate tree packing job. Read on.

The boss man wants 4 filled boxes per hour and I didn't quite do 3. The returning regulars are doing 5.5/hour. This managed klutz (me) isn't going to cut it as far as I can tell, though I did three more for the four hour shift than yesterday, my first day. There were less snags and errant finger moves to disrupt my neat stacks for some reason today. At the end of it, one of the regulars on production support duties says for me to "hang in there".

And which fed into the fact that I felt like quitting all of the four hour shift, partially prompted by the guy behind me who worked a whole five minutes and said he was "going home". I assume that was the end of him, but he was the guy who was actually friendly and we had seasonal viticulture jobs in common. The one friendly seasonal worker-bee is now gone.

Which is exactly "happened" at the last forest tree seedling job I had in 2011. One of the seasonal worker bees was a friendly guy about my real age (61 y.o., not what I look like which has to be about 35 y.o), and about two weeks into the job he was telling me about some of the slackers, which I thought was odd, as I didn't see anyone doing that as everyone I could tell was heads down working. Anyhow, he brought this up with the boss man who took exception to his comments on the "regular" seasonal workers who return each year, and he was let go in mid shift.

As it also "happened", this firee was giving a ride to this negro woman as we were on the afternoon shift and there was no bus service at 2330h when we finished. I knew her from a few years earlier from other seasonal farm work I had being doing, so I ended up giving her a ride home every night for four weeks or so. And have I mentioned the perps like to plant negros around me as part of the gangstalk scene? Many hundreds of times by now, some 1700+ postings into this abuse-athon. The plasma beams over top this LCD display where I am typing are getting very obstructing, so I am going to call today's blogging done for now.

10-23-2015, Friday
Finally, the worker elimination method was revealed at the forestry seedling operation; if you aren't up to production snuff, one will get a phone call this weekend to say don't come back for Monday. I haven't been up to snuff, only at 70% of what he was looking for for the last two days. Not to make too fine a point of it, I wasn't on production, but instead, "support" where I handled the containers after cleaning. There are a number of support jobs, bringing the seedlings in from the greenhouses, handling the empty containers, fork lifting finished pallets etc. Soo..... a good chance my expectations for a two month work gig just may evaporate. And that would be a good thing instead of getting beat up by the perps with counterproductive finger fumbling, things snagging with unusual frequency, mind fucking me over what my seedling bundle per box count is, and the rest of the productivity depredations.

10-24-2015
I got the phone call I was expecting; "nothing personal", "glad to have met you" etc. As in no forest seedling grading/packing job come Monday. And I am glad for that, not having unattainable productivity goals hanging over my head all the time. So four half days of work this week, all to find out what I already know; I am a managed klutz and my finger control does not belong to me. And what is the point of that from the perp perspective? Just to jerk my ass around and divert my job search intentions for three week? Something like that.

10-25-2015
 A hike finally, after last week's blatant obstruction, and the prior grape harvesting and processing paid work. And too, in the new oversized mountaineering boots the perps made me buy, putting a serious hole in my finances, especially when they knew the forest seedling packing job was going to be naught.

The boots worked out reasonably OK, a little heavy going up, but welcome for their stiffness on the way down with the loose rock rubble on the hard pack glacial til trail. The perps even let me get started by 1000h, and hiking by 1045h, and no less, all by myself. Only a mountain goat there was there at the top of McIntyre Bluff, sensing that a human was around, and suddenly on the move while I was eating lunch. A full curl horn male it was, and I didn't relish doing any head butting with it. Thankfully, after it did some observation time from 80' away, and then took off and no drama. A near chilly day, some 11C, and a light wind to make sure I was reminded often enough. It was high overcast, so no sun to warm things up, and the fall colors coming on strong, vineyards included.

But within a minute of starting back down, and two minutes of finishing my lunch salad, why, the hiking gangstalkers were on me. Two parties; one couple strangely split apart with the lead female doing on off-trail stop an a minor prominent rock, and the follow-up male strangely carrying his green toque as he was hiking along. A lone female with a toque (on her head and a loopy smile came next) within a minute. Some 30 minutes later another gangstalking couple came at a trail section where I took a section that hadn't been used for six weeks or slightly longer, as some dip-shit erected a barrier to it from the other direction which the couple duly followed, outbound, just as I had. The trail re-diretion was totally backwards, as this short cut had been blocked for the past three years as part of a trail remediation effort to take the longer but less steep (and erosion prone) section. But as the perps constantly hound me over every step I take and where others follow on top, it isn't too surprising that this trail exclusion stunt wasn't erected, especially when another gangstalk couple "showed up". And all the more when in new boots.

The final act of trail gangstalking was to have a three-some of trail cyclists come by (outbound, while I was inbound) the very first time EVER they have put this element on the trail I have hiked for the past three years. And all the more obvious was that I was wearing new boots, with new rubber soles, and lo, if the cycle tracks weren't mostly on the very R side of the trail I was hiking. As mentioned many times, the whole thing about rubber is a HUGE perps interest. I assume, natural tree rubber, with its soil and provenance energetics (from halfway around the world) rotating on wheels in all their ubiquity, and of course, over the same ground of those (me) who "happen" to be hiking with (new) rubber soled boots. And have I given the "rubber imperative" enough exposition today?

26-10-2015 Monday
No excuse but a blatant mind-fuck blank out in posting this yesterday. I ALWAYS attempt to get this wrapped up for the week and post Sunday night, though at times other time pressures/events (read, arranged ones) somehow intrude. No excuse this time, but pure remotely applied mind dithering.

Yogic Mondays

11-04-2013
No yoga last week by dint of extra work to get done last Friday, so I changed to Monday (today) to keep myself limber. As always, yoga and all its spinal stretching and contortions is of intense perp interest, and the instructor has twice intimated the involvement of another party. At the end of a class some four weeks ago, he said, "thanks for coming, and especially for those who came on short notice." Sounds like organized arrangement to me. And also, only an operative would have permission to say that; the hoi polloi abettors would be most uncomfortable alluding to an organized crime.

This time the very limber and yoga experienced Tall Girl, at least 6'1", was beside me, of note because two weeks ago they hid her behind a central pillar in the room. And she has very long arms and legs I came to notice from across the room some time ago. Or, at least, the perps had me looking at her more than I would of, as I make a point of not staring at anyone. As always, this particular Tall Girl has incredible balance and yoga posture, and can outstretch me in most poses. And one tattoo case directly behind me on the girl with the 2' long hair who I never did get a look at for the hair hanging down. Not a big deal, as I don't get to yoga more than once per week as the perps don't seem to like the idea of me working out much more than that. They shut down hiking in 2006 when I had to give up my vehicle, and I have only returned to it this year, and only every three weeks or so in the summer time..

Extra unconventional abuses this Monday; they had me rage-ified by pulling food out of my mouth and sending it to the floor, flicked additional food around, including hot cooking oil, though not on me, pulled items from my grasp so they could be sent to the floor at my feet. At the very moment of screaming at the assholes, why, my teeth came down on the remaining food in my mouth and my tongue contacted an very salty food surface. Funny how that "happens".

11-05-2013
A day of fucking hell, enabled by having the vineyard owners departing for supplies; I was racking wine and no end of things went wrong, and more than one recall failure that I never experienced before all this abuse descended upon me. At  least 20 rage-ifications over the day, all of them in the afternoon, once the owner's family visitation was over. I was doing the same thing before they came with little problem; racking (transferring and leaving the wine sediment behind) out of a bin to a close lidded container. They arrived with winery supplies and I helped them unload them. A they were parked in the middle of my working area I couldn't continue with my winemaking activity. They had lunch there, I had it with them as there was nothing else I could do. After they departed, everything went wrong, duly arranged by the assholes who have the ability to cause "mishaps" and all manner of teleportational and telekinetic directed abuses.

As part of the abuse stream, the pumps got clogged somehow, one pump after the other. I had already pumped two tanks with no problem, but this third time the pump didn't operate at full speed, and there was no seeming source of the problem (in conventional physical terms). I unclogged the intake screen a number of times to no avail, the perps also opened up my hand to have the nut driver fall into the wine. Later they had an O-ring pop off the pipe union and into the wine. A regularly used quick connect tool wouldn't connect for the first time in a year since I built it, and they scrambled me around on additions before letting me get it right.

11-06-2013
There were people around today, so no sustained abuse, and the perps let me have a reasonably competent today.

11-07-2013
The perps dozed me off at work after lunch time for 20 minutes or so, while the co-owner was sleeping upstairs on  her heavy medications as she has back pain. Another first for the assholes, as I never feel tired in these circumstances, even with a lot less sleep.

An after work visit to the specialty grocery store got me a rude gangstalker episode. I went there to get coffee and put it in the grinder, and lo, if these two Fuckwits, a most unlikely pair, didn't suddenly arrive and start hanging around me as they too were shopping for coffee. And not just idly, but comparing different brands and the like, and then encroaching on personal space where they reached for something near my feet. At that point I called them out and asked if they had any manners, and the one male dick said "sorry". Finally, after the coffee grinder had finished and I was no longer captive, I got the fuck out of there and to the checkout. One customer was ahead and she did her best to protract the scene for at least two minutes. In the meantime, this woman with long grey hair arrives and posts herself like a sentry 10' away at the end of the closest aisle and is unusually obvious as she isn't shopping. She then licks her lips for no reason. With all the gangstalkers in the store I thought that someone else would arrive to follow me in the checkout. But no, it was the weird coffee stalking pair, purchasing three bags of the same kind of coffee that was being replaced by this latest purchase. As before, coffee in all its brown-ess and whatever other properties it confers to the perps has been one of their most consistent props over the 11.5 years of this insane deranged Fuckover.

11-08-2013
Yoga again on a Friday; what a zoo. Some 18 others or so, up from 7 or 8 of us at the last same weekday time. The long haired dude with the vile tattoos was there, artfully arranging himself halfway along the sightline I had on the instructor. Said instructor, male with additional Unfavored attributes of large gut, bald head and fugly shorts is assigned to all the advanced yoga classes, presumably to keep me from getting distracted by cute young female instructors. Another skinheaded (much Unfavored) male looked like an emancipated lab rat, and thankfully he stayed out of my view for the entire class. It wasn't all bad, as they put a lithe dancer girl in front of me for directing my gaze in the direction of above mentioned tattoo case.

The vineyard owner came back from being away for a 10 days, and was full of his usual pissy-ness. There was a reason though, as the red wine that he insisted on filtering, had an oxidation problem. Said owner insisted on filtering this wine, in two separate instances, over my objections to each. On the fourth filtering pass, in which I told him yet again that there was no need to filter, he finally listened to me. The wine got beat up by the filtering and he seemed to think that I was the culprit when I made additions to prevent oxidation. Anyhow, I got to get a different gig, as the dynamic is getting poisonous; the "told you so" list is getting far too long. Which is something the perps have always liked to inject into my existence; have belligerent incompetants screw thing up so they would be deemed saboteurs.

11-09-2013
Saturday, and laundry at the laundromat, this being a first with a low freak/Unfavored count; only one other. He was an apparent cowboy (hat), arriving in this ridiculous red colored Ford station wagon and brought his laundry in ahead of me to then sit it on a table while he improbably looked around at notices on the walls, not getting on with laundry. (Who does that unless guided by others?) Naturally (ahem) he had his two red shirts spilling out of his bag onto the table when I passed by. I load my washing machines, switching one that I had loaded due to some odd colored liquid in the detergent. (To take away the excuse of bleach spotting sabotage). Said cowboy was on his cell phone at that moment, (while I was engaging in the financial transaction of putting money in the coin box), and he got my attention for a second as I thought he was talking to me. I get my two loads started, and why, he has gone, when my last look at him was that he was loading his washing machine. As I pass by, his load is loaded, save those red shirts on the table. All to make this scenario more contrived, as who on earth departs in the middle of loading one's laundry? He had the money to get detergent from the dispensing machine, so what was so important that he had to leave then? It wasn't the phone call, as he initiated the call, and was loading his washing machine after the call. As always, the perps are totally bent out of shape over me doing laundry, even stealing clothes back in the terror-struck days of 2002. And too, the relentless amount of fuckery that "happens" to laundry; loose thread eruptions, accelerated fabric wear, hairs from somewhere on the clean clothes, bleach spots when I didn't use any and even spots of oil on the clothes (read on) that were not there when I put the clothes in the washing machine.

The assholes spotted my new cotton shirt, one that got altered when new, with oil on the front and back. The usual routine; apply Shout, soak, and then re-wash manually in the kitchen sink and then spread out to dry on a towel. (No laundry facilities in this residence). All to have said shirt "join" the synthetic fabric clothes drying on the drying rack nearby, as I only dry cottons (towels and bedclothes mainly) in the dryer at the laundromat. So it would seem that the perps need to compare the energetics of a twice laundered item (laundromat and residence) to the once laundered items (laundromat only) that were already drying on a rack inside after the washing cycle completed. And too, they love the color changes, a huge game for them,- the darker color of a wet item that slowly dries and now becomes dark green, its natural color when dry. Not forgetting that this dark green shirt was purchased after someone, somehow, spotted the olive green shirt (identical garment type,- long sleeve stretch cotton fabric) with bleach at the aforementioned laundromat, about 6 weeks ago. And lo, if there wasn't any olive green shirts to replace the one that was sabotaged with their bleaching games they like to do. And too, this shirt had a collar that went up my neck and I had it altered before I wore it, and that took two weeks before the alterations person finished it. And not forgetting that I bought this shirt under First Feral Family conditions; my brother's store with my sister-in-law and mother present. Talk about a storied and targeted shirt for nefarious purposes that only the perps would know about.

A two hour nap attack this afternoon, and the sleep was not needed as I slept for two extra hours last night. Obviously the timing was important, as it was the dusk transition; lying down when daylight 1615h, and getting up while dark, 1815h.

All week there was a show I wanted to catch tonight, and lo, if I didn't get skunked in that it was sold out when I finally got to make the call about noon today. Like WTF; a new musical act, very low on the radar ($14 ticket), and I had listened to them online, then every day this week I meant to call to reserve a ticket, and when the perps finally let me call, (it is quite plain my recall is routinely fucked with), they arrange for the show to be sold out. I cannot count the number of times the perps arranged "dashed expectations", often many inside a week. Besides, I have been to this venue before, and presumably they have the place and staff ordered and organized to participate in the gangstalking and the rest of this contrived reality.

11-10-2013
The perps woke me in the night for two hours of awake time, having the recent past replayed again and again. Why, when they do this all day?

Windows Cut and paste are getting messed with, another favorite perp stunt now gaining prominence from past remissions. They seem to like to have the blue colored reversed font flash and display part of what I have selected, and then go on to screw my motor coordination to have the line and/or paragraph highlighted, and then go back to screwing with the display for multiple words. Having added some recent links to the TI Blogs static page, the exact same thing occurred two days in succession.

And a shut-in Sunday today; constant dark grey clouds and a whole lot of demotivation keeping me house bound. Additionally, the perps have added some kind of diaphragm region muscle aches (pain pangs), and anytime I shift position I get this muscle spasm around my diaphragm, causing pain and breathing difficulties. No weekends off as a TI. It has been getting worse all day, and it might come down to crawling about to relieve this specific symptom.

Three new-to-me TI blogs I have found, being mysteriously motivated when I haven't looked for any for at least three years.

Targeted Individual Connections to the bigger picture, plus the Collection of Targeted Individual Sources.
Ramblings of a Targeted Individual  Homelessness and much duress at the basic survival level.
Fortnight Transmissions About surveillance and gangstalking; calm and measured- a welcome tonic to the harassed TI.
Escape Australia (177pp PDF) has many similar descriptions of gangstalking as my own, though interestingly the perps didn't force the couple apart.

The mid-rib muscle pangs of pain continue to erupt as I attempt to do normal things; looking at my watch got me such pain, as did moving around in the kitchen, when sitting down. I hope this type of debilitation is over tomorrow.

Other games going on with increased frequency are the perps playing with font sizes and line spacing of web pages. I return to a web page and find the font shrunk down. Of late, the Firefox bookmark manager has taken to spacing the links by an extra half line space.

And I see my keyboard is acting up, and that I got a mid-rib muscle pain as I started this very sentence; time to call it done for a week and see what next comes my way.

Pit Lamping

01-24-2012
1620h
And why is it that the seeming residents of this new city I live in have the identical driving habits of the assholes of the last city, and we are talking about this town being one tenth of the population of the Gangstalking Capital of Canada. And so it is with this ridiculous pit-lamping that goes on; a vehicle with its headlights trained on me, often from one or two blocks away. To do this they are invariably sitting still, and now, even parked in mid-street, not even pulling over to use the `lost Fuckwit` excuse. This town is a decided tourist magnet, as most hotels and restaurants are closed down, so the excuse of being lost doesn`t count at this time of year. Time without fail, there is someone in their vehicle with their headlights on, and sitting still.

Another vehicular stunt that is also apparent is the `wait-and-drive-at-me`` (the quotes button is now fucked) at a traffic controlled intersection. They are making a R. turn that will cross my path, either ahead or behind, and with sufficient time to execute the turn they wait instead, even if they have a green light. And so the `Walk`sign comes on for me to proceed, and I enter onto the crosswalk, it is only then that the fucking driver `decides`to proceed toward me, comes into the crosswalk and then stops 2` from me. Like WTF; why are seeming normal people behaving so beserk.

And severe plasma and maser hash now wherever I look; should my gaze rest a moment on something, either some plasma projections will come off it, a maser will spew forth at me (fuzzy ball kind usually) or else the perps will manipulate my visual cortex directly and make the inanimate object shrink or get bigger. Still testing my perception of what normal is it seems. And the plasma and maser hash isn`t just at my own little hellhole of where I stay, but in the class too.

Speaking of which, more wierdness in the classroom today. The class freak, detailed below, was doing head-down games, putting his head down on the table for reasons only known to him. I have seen these head-down games before from other cooperating shills, so it doesn`t surprise me to much when someone elects to make themselves more weird. But he did bring in a calendar and had it beside him for the entire 5 hours of class time. The instructor was running out of gas, as in shooting the breeze, and then makes a seeming impromptu call for the freak to speak about biodynamic viticulture. So, the freak does, but uses the calendar as part of the prop for his presentation. Like WTF; he came prepared from the outset, he made himself to look totally out of it, and then gets a seeming spontaneous call from the instructor to make a presentation. Can we say obviously arranged now.

01-25-2012
Studying for the wine course quiz, the second one, all last evening. And lo, if they didn't shake this room AND zap me at the same moment. Not once, but six times. And note, that it was for this same course, the first quiz, when an small earthquake erupted near Okanagan Falls the evening we were all studying. And too, one student was without power last night, impairing his studying plans of course. He lives in the south part of Penticton, and I live in the north part. Funny, all these coincidences, isn't it? It has been no secret the perps are also beserk over information; how and in what circumstances I acquired it, and often play the image of the "info-benefactor"/teacher in mind as I invoke the concept or thought meme. Who would of thunk it, that school and standardized cirriculums and exams would be serving the powers that be and their insane agenda? Take Depak Chopra's concepts, e.g. "information has consciousness embedded in it", and the perp agenda becomes more apparent.

01-26-2011
A field trip to a vineyard that is much closer planted than most; rows 1.35 to 2.0m, plants 1.0m apart. To do this, the vines and wires are lower and there needs to be special tractor to straddle over top of the posts and trellises. While we were admiring the $200k tractor with height and width variable capabilities that straddled two rows no less, I recieved a stinging whack to my R. cheek. Three of the dudes were standing in a line and another dude, potentially the culprit, was some 10'. Just as I got whacked, I hissed something to the effect of who did it, and all dudes were conveniently looking away. In conventional terms it could of been the potential culprit, but since I live in a unconvential gravitic abuse world, it could of been anyone and anything. There wasn't much to throw around as the ground was 6" deep in snow, so what and who was it? Nothing was on the ground beside me, so chances are that the assholes decided I needed to be riled up with the dude show/gangstalkers all around me, and perhaps they didn't even know it was coming. Though I doubt that, as they pretended not to hear me. But getting  back to conventional world, why is it that these things are happening to me? Why do I get picked on to have something thrown at high speed at my face by someone I don't know and who has no apparent reason? In the bigger harassment scene of unconventional technologies of teleportation and telekinetic fuckery that I experience all day, to the level that I would rather not live another day, and nearly tens years of relentless insanity (theirs), it makes perfect sense to heap more abuse on, as that is all they know how to do. I have to wonder about the political assasinations, e.g. JFK and others, if it isn't the perps sending teleported projectiles to their target, even if it did ostensibly come from a conventional firearm. That we as a society constantly search the conventional scientific reasons for causal events and/or depraved behaviours and don't ever get to the bigger picture. And just to think, how many millenia has this transpired?

The lone class Unfavored freak; male, beard, dreads hair, glasses, bag-hat (appearing to elongate the back of his head) and E. Indian (I think) has been getting more face time with me of late. He has been doing the gangstalk/"happen" act at the library doorway two days in a row last week, loitering at the doors of a different building when exiting with the one female in the class, a 40's babe, and "happening" to be the rear seat passenger twice on two field trips. Past classes of this viticulture program have been about 50% male and female, and "somehow" this year it is 90% male and this same one female. No question the perps like to surround me with dudes after a short exposure to a babe or blonde babe especially, but stacking the class to a 90-10% M:F is beyond obvious.

Anyhow, back to the field trip; the freak was standing nearby (2' or so) while we were all listening to the speaker, the main purpose of our visitation, and this was for some 15 minutes with the sun just coming up over the roof of the building, shining on my head, and as it rose, the rest of me. It was about 0940h in the morning. Then for some strange reason, the freak walking 15' W., past everyone else, and then stands behind someone so he was partially visible to me. Like WTF; it wasn't like anybody was perturbing him, or laying on a gigantic fugly fart, he strangely gets up and re-positions himself. Again, how does he know when to do this and in what circumstance? The usual rule applies; if someone is acting strange they either really are, or else they are being jerked by someone who is. I am opting for the latter explanation; the freaky clothing aside, he seems perfectly normal to me.

Later when back in the classroom for no seeming purpose, the freak takes his bag-had off to reveal fucking dreads in class. Thankfully I was sitting at the same table as he was and he and his dreaded dreads wasn't in my line of sight. The arrangement was abetted by another class member who scarfed my usual seat for unknown reasons.

Wonders never cease; my 21 y.o. daughter had something to say over the phone for the first time in over 10 years, before the overt harassment started. She was always a terse one on the phone when I lived in Seattle back in 1999 to 2002, she being nine or so then. And then when the perps struck to make themselves known to me for the first time in 04-2002, she was even more taciturn and disinclined to communicate. Not only that, I would give her useful Christmas and birthday presents and she would not use them, even DVD's, and never mentioned them. Like WTF, another person close to me goes strange. One recent example was that I gave her a bottle of icewine when she turned of legal age (19) two years ago. A year later (2011) I asked if she had drunk it and she said no, and nothing else and I didn`t ask any further as I was long familiar with this wierdness. At Christmas in 2011, a month ago, she lets on that she did drink it up, while talking to someone else. I still don't know if she liked it or not, or why she delayed drinking it for over a year. And she has done this with everything I gave her for the past ten, maybe 12 years, even before overt harassment. BUT in total reversal to the usual pattern, while on the phone tonight, she makes reference to the book I gave her for Christmas, a paleo-diet book; Primal Mind, Primal Body. (My daughter has been on a healthy living kick for the past few months, declining chocolate in advance of Christmas, a first). So like WTF; why this sudden behavior change and mention about the utility of a gift to me directly, and not to someone else? If you follow the pattern in this blog, or are a TI, you will know there are agencies out there that are quite capable of remotely influencing persons, even if they also communicate with them directly for script rehearsals. And in the long past (1990), the ex went into a sudden behaviour change and became a near total asshole, and a thankless one at that. To the extent that divorce proceedings started in 2000.

01-27-2012
A Friday, and the last class of Wine 21, an Introduction to Grapes and Wine. A course in which we were wine tasting well before noon, and again after lunch. One cannot go wrong with that, and the instructor was very knowledgeable to boot. I go to the gym afterward to work out for the first time in over four years, (yoga excepted), feeling the wine a little, and the perps graciously (going by past experience) let me run on the treadmill for 10 minutes and a 2 minute warm down. I went 4.4mph at most, and didn`t break a sweat, just what I wanted. Sooo.. when exiting the building why, two of my Wine 21 classmates ``happened`` to be at the door and with the three dishwasher trays of used wine glasses. I am well used to these arranged coincidences at doorways, and headed off to the admin section to pay for a gym class. And while exiting there after getting the same chilly reaction as the last time from the same person for no fucking reason, why, the instructor was passing by, some 20`behind her husband for some strange reason. All these strange coincidences at doorways all the time, it just defies rational thought  as to why some agency has to pursue me and other TI`s and won`t come clean and fess up to expedite this insane fuckery.

01-28-2012
A party crowd, or the noise thereof, outside at 0300-0400h last night. Someone wanted me to hear raucous male and female voices at that time of day, and so it was arranged. This place has many vehicles parked around it, but I rarely see anyone, except for laundry and when taking out the garbage.

The assholes have been sabotaging all that I do; even opening up a cupboard door takes two or three passes before they let me grasp the pull. But of course it isn`t just that, even picking up these myriad crumbs or hairs that arrive whenever my back is turned, gets sabotaged. You heard that right; in dealing with the teleported annoyances that they lay on me two hundred or more times a day, they sabotage my finger control to deal with it.

The perps are up to pounding this suite again, more excusable if a wood frame construction, but as they had no problem in shaking 12ìn. of concrete in the last place, why this is a piece of cake. But there is only one adjoining room; all the others are accross a 4`hallway, and there is parked vehicles below. So how does this room shaking happen then. (Question marks are now fucked as they come off this keyboard).

Enough rambling and patter (another room shake, and now a loud-mufflered vehicle starts up, coincident with posting this). Funny how that happens, as posting is a much noise-stalked event.

Count to Ten

2035h
Count to ten again and again all day long; ten cut daffodils to a bunch, and I cut 325 bunches and earned a whole $64 at the piece rate of $0.20/bunch. I would of been better off at minimum wage. A hell of a way to go to pay for a PC upgrade and save for my income tax. That was it, a whole day in the daffodil fields replete the now expectable helicopter passes (military Sea King twice) , at least four SAC bombers passed by (noise at least), and a host of smaller private aircraft. Then, per usual in the farming work, vehicles on the periphery of the farm were lining themselves up with their headlights and keeping them trained on me, what I call pit-lamping.

Back willing, I will keep doing it to save some dough, spend per above plans, and continue with this absurdity all week, next, and likely longer. I will attempt to get some hourly work though, rather than putting up with this. And too, the perps get to befuddle me all day as to how many boxes of 50 bunches I picked, how much I got paid per bunch, and playing on my ignorance (highly managed by them), as well as sponsoring at least a dozen rounds of getting the calculations wrong for piece rate work. And just to think, they get to do this every day I spend in this manner.

So... when I went to the LD store tonight and loaded up on Milka chocolate bars I counted ten, two more than I usually get. And it was only when the cashier dude was ringing them in, and said there was ten, was I allowed to know it was an exact replica of the amount of daffodil flowers per bunch, what I had been counting all day. Fucking hilarious, but this serves as an example of the inane and stupid games that are arranged for me, to me, and involving me.

The flower picking wasn't a bad as I had feared, but that is not to say it was any bit pleasant to be bending over all freaking day, and straddling these 14" humps of soil with the troughs being very slippery. I had decent clothing on that kept me warm, and although there was plenty of wind, there was only a occasional smattering of rain. But one could say that I got my yellow color dose for the day, so much so that they put on the dark green and white school bus instead of the yellow ones they have. This is the crew bus that picks up pickers at different locations at 0650h in the morning, and drops me off at 1800h.

And plenty of orchestrated seating arrangements on the bus; the E. Indians sitting in front of me, turban and shawl, and no one needs to tell me how much I loathe the sight of such head adornments, being of the Unfavored kind. I did some E. Indian conversation time before getting on the bus, so I assume the two seats in front and the two behind, were vacated for me and my consorts, and whatever fugly colors and headgear they wanted to bring. About halfway through the bus trip coming back, the E. Indians moved to seats near the front, presumably as some kind of brown color (skin) reference that needed to be farther away. Then the red and yellow dressed dufus sat in front of me for some two minutes before retreating behind me, where he came from. Like I some kind of stigmatized fuckee; no one sits around me, but only do "tours" for short durations. If I don't like red and yellow together, especially in the form of clothing, then I don't see why its anyone's fucking business but my own. But instead, it seems to be a matter of national security given the number of Fuckwits putting on this color combination. And no, I don't go to McDonald's to be inundated with red and yellow, never mind that horrid clown, and the food as an afterthought.


2100h
I just finished a screaming match with the sickos; they repeatedly fucked me out of spelling common words, and then hammered me again while attempting to correct the forced typos. What it takes to lead a normal life around here.

Other farming and gangstalking news of the day was the constant finger fumbling the assholes put me through, not wanting me to become competent in the new task of cutting and handling daffodil flowers. Then there was the extra-gravitic fuckery where one flower stem would slide out of the bunch, friction be damned. And as an extension to that, flower stems that would just fly out of the bunch even if frimly grasped. All to play more games to piss me off, out me off my count, and otherwise be a sabotaged in attempting to earn a meagre living. No doubt the disability thing is going to end this year, and minimum wage jobs and piece rate aren't going to do it.

Anyhow, I am tired, and won't be blogging too much these next weeks, as this kind of job is made to whack me out.