1120h
Recent past goings on of the last few days that were blocked from recall.
I did the "box trot", as in walking two blocks into the heart of downtown Victoria to a drug store with a post office inside to then get a parcel (brown cardboard box usually), and walk back to my apartment. This seems to be a big deal for the perps and is heavily gangstalked and stunted.
To start, when outbound at 0915h, I get the dudes parading around me at first the traffic light; one strange Fuckwit standing there then walks back from the intersection some 6' and stands on his tiptoes making out that he is looking over something, but there is nothing to be seen. Then he returns to the street corner doing the "come at me" stunt, then reverses and does his rubber necking again. Finally he returns near my R side and doesn't come at me. Whie being distracted by this Fuckwit I get to see another that got in too close unheard, doing the lookaway thing. The traffic signal says "Walk" and I do so very fast to leave these Fuckwits behind. Then I get across to have someone almost stepping into me, and then some 30' further I get the brown E. Indian dude reading a book while walking along, one of those strange behaviors that has erupted in force since this insane harassment started up. Other Fuckwits abound until I get to the intersection of Douglas St. and View and lo, if there isn't an E. Indian (very brown skin) in a chocolate brown jacket. So.. on the signal I walk across and lo, if there isn't a negro stationed on the other side. Onto the drug store, and there is a woman with a tethered and harnessed black rabbit standing outside the entrance begging for cash.
Recall this is at 0915h, 45min. before the stores open, and long past the 0800-0830h office worker surge, and there had to be over 200 people out on the street on my short route. Maybe it is one of those "had to be there" moments, but the pedestrian population (read, gangstalker surge) is even getting absurd from last year.
I am now in the drug store at the back at the post office and this monster fat woman (260lb or more) is the post office clerk. She asks me for my ID and I supply my driver's licence, and then she goes off to the back room for the parcel. Then the fedora act starts pacing around, and encircles me. Then the skinhead Asian and a skinhead Caucasian, one aisle apart make the exact same move, coming from the N. turning at the exact identical moment and heading E down the next aisle. Perfect choreography it was, and both in black. All was needed was dance music. But the skinhead Asian, at the closer aisle, breaks form and does some more pass-bys, not really making out that he was there to do shopping.
With brown box in hand, I finally get out to wait for the traffic do the slow troll through the intersection, making out that N. bound (reverse to the commute) backups of traffic at 0915h is normal. The traffic stops for the light, and I am crossing with my posse, and then this yellowjacket cyclist seems to forget what he stopped for, or else thought he was exempt from the traffic regulations, and crosses 6' in front of me while on the crosswalk. I said something, but he made out that he didn't hear. I suppose the rest of the journey was uneventful as I cannot recall what transpired for the last block.
At the First Feral Family house in the last week the perps have upped the ante as to freakshow delivery. Last week when I was in the house in the late afternoon, a male ponytailed mailman "happened" to be just departing, having just delivered some mail. Like WTF; he isn't the regular mailman and is at least three hours later than usual. Then two days ago the cable service dude was working on the house to improve the cable lines for phone, and lo, when in the same location of the kitchen I see him leaving in his disgusting skinhead (shiny bald). Later the same day, in the same location when I "happen" to be passing through the kitchen and looking outside, they put a negro strolling along in mid-street. (Note that male ponytails, skinheads and non-Caucasians are very Unfavored; see the posting to the right).Talk about freakshow at one's doorstep. So it would seem the perps don't have enough freakshow gangstalkers when I am at the First Feral Family house, so they arrange for these Fuckwits to be just outside for all of two seconds of looking out the front window.
And what is it with the obstructing Fuckwits on the city bus at the rear doors? This wierd in a drivers cap gets on and sits 6' away- no big deal, but there was something about him that was odd, like he was mildly retarded. Two stops ahead of mine he gets up to stand at the rear door but doesn't ring the bell. I thought I was going to get company in getting off the bus when it pulled up to the next stop for me. But no, he just stands there in my way. I say "excuse me" loud enough and he doesn't move, standing 1' over him on the reard deck stairs. Then I repeat my request louder, and he gets it, and gets out of the way. This isn't a big deal on the face of it, but I cannot count the number of times (over 100) that the perps have arranged a rear exit door cluster fuck when I am am attempting to get off. They arrange the Fuckwits who aren't getting off to then stand in the way of those who are getting off (coming from two directions), and to pretend otherwise. It is plain bizarre to see this civic rudeness/cluelessness orchestrated so often as it is. And once, during a very packed bus, and with me standing near the rear door, they had their Fuckwits getting off and I was in the middle of this same clusterfuck that I had no intention of getting into. Go figure.
--
Today, Thursday, day before a national holiday for Good Friday.
The perps started on a beserk streak this morning, when they pulled the spoon from my hand and flew it 12" laterally into the tub of hemp seed (legal, nonTHC) I was holding in the other hand. This would be one of their more obvious stunts, because nearly everything they jerk from my hand goes straight down, faster than gravitational pull even. That begat a rage-ified reaction and a wonderful start to my day.
Then they began the crumb inindation games in earnest, planting crumbs on the counter that had just been cleaned of any crumbs. I was handling a jar of coconut butter, and none came out, as I upend the jar over the bread that is on the plate just to keep the crumb nonsense contained. But "somehow" some crumbs show up on the adjacent countertop, 8" away. I clean these up, look away for a reason, and another three coconut crumbs have arrived. Same for the bread, and then again for the chocolate (with breakfast, part of this imposed diet of brown foods they like ensure that I eat.
Another variant of the crumb games was to have a black crumb of no determinable source arrive on the bathroom sink when I was nearby, and then when I go to remove it, it is resistant to a degree, and only part of it pulls away. I have been put through the decremental crumb games before, and it seems they need me to do this every so often. Another way to crank me up.
Other excitement for the perps might of been that I did my bedsheet laundry today. Regular readers and TI's will know the perps go beserk over laundry in all unimaginable facets, and so screwing me to launder the sheets after three weeks instead of two weeks is yet another fascinating variable for them. And how did that jet black 10" hair get in my clean laundry? I'm in isolation treatment, so I don't get any kind of romantic associations, or even visitations. (Now they have said who it belongs to, but I won't believe it until I see her here, not on gangstalking duty, which I have at least twice).
1825h
Overhead pounding music is getting through mt earmuffs, along with a faux flute playing random notes from the hallway. So far, these noises seem disparate, though I have noticed the perps like to blend noises as one, and then stopping one of them so I can identify what it is. Similarly last week, when working in the First Freal Family house in the backyard; one lawn mower from two houses away, and then indentical noise lawnmower from the opposite direction were blended together. The first one quits and the second one continues, seeming to be a L and R side same-noise test.
I spent two hours at the local Oracle User's Group meeting this afternoon; another gangstalking scene, and first arranging the redcoat Asian behind me, and a yellow-jacket Caucasian in front of me who had an unerring ability to place his head directly in the way of me seeing the speaker. Moving my chair fixed that for a time, but then the speaker would move to set this bullshit up again, at least ten cycles of this nonsense. Then 50 minutes into the meeting, with my row empty of anyone else, a negro comes in and sits three chairs away. Like WTF; I went to an Oracle Convention in San Franciso with 15,000 attendees and I saw only one small cluster of negroes there. So here we have a meeting of no more than 15 in attendance, and a single negro is arranged to sit nearby to do the all-familiar back flexes and stretches that other gangstalkers do. Then the negro fucker decides that I need more aggravation and flashes the bright LCD of his cell phone at me four times in the last 20 minutes. How can all these Fuckwits be doing the same things independently?
1940h
Noise and harassment confluence; on the phone to my perp abetting brother, strobing light from outside, church bells ringing and overhead thumpy stereo music coming through. Also some Asians running in the hallway and squealing. Perps live for moments such as this.
2245h
A rare music listening tonight; Cole Porter "Anything Goes", and an Elvis Presley 4 CD set compilation of his 1950's work.
I am having some severe problems with the comments in Blogspot; old posted comments are getting re-displayed as new, and this is mixed with some new comments, so I don't know how this is all going to come out. -sorted out now.
Showing posts with label crumbs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label crumbs. Show all posts
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Sunday, April 03, 2011
Laundry and Cleaning
1135h
An 0700h get-up without the alarm, as it was set for 0800h. A 0130h bedtime last night due to a sudden midnight "need" to listen to music. Funny how that happens, and the usual switching between the samples the instant I click somewhere, with the imposed coincident confusion of whether I clicked and clobbered the web page that was the source of the music, or just coincidental page refresh. As always, the answers vary according to the circumstances in play, the imposed nature of the momentary befuddlement, and any other mind-fuck parameters around cognition they need to fuck with at my expense. And it seems they like vocalized sudden pitch changes too, the Alela Diane songs have somehow been rattling in my head for the week, and I haven't listened to them for at least that long. In fact, I couldn't recall who was singing the song they were playing in mind, e.g. yesterday while garden digging, and they told me. Finally last night, I was sent to the Myspace web page, and indeed, it is her, and the posted music is a combination from various albums which display on a per song basis. Just that I wasn't allowed to figure that out at first, and ended up sampling much of her music on Amazon in this sudden early AM curiousity eruption.
Going to bed late wasn't enough awake time it seemed; the kept me up for another hour or more with the outside loud mufflered vehicle noises, and with all manner of aburd ideations from this imaginary life they like to impose on me, the "reverie life", as opposed to this violated life. Their reverie games have been very consistent over the years, and back in 2005 they would start them up and I would add dialog, and if it wasn't dialog supplied by them I was immediately noisestalked every time. We are long past that now, and instead the coincident abuse was minor head pain; L jaw, then when covered with my hand ( and pain relieved), forehead (and pain relieved), and when covered by my other hand, it was L rear temple. Then I gave up.
And a bedsheet laundering this morning with the jeans from yesterday added in, having some light soil scuffings that arrived on me while doing the garden digging job yesterday. In addition to the fake touches I got from nowhere, as it wasn't the shovel handle that it felt like as one example. And I see the perps are back to yellowing my bedsheets around my head again, possibly in keeping with their usual annual bedsheet sabotage. The R. side pillow, the fitted sheet underneath were extra yellowed and per usual, it doesn't launder out for the most part. And I see they have started this on the underlying pillows too, another first in this insane sabotage method/circumstance that has plagued two previous bedsheet sets. Last year was a two year replacement, but if the perps keep up this accelerated bedsheet yellowing, this better quality sheetset won't go past the summer, the time of year for this near annual event. This is the fourth or fifth bedsheet set to be sabotaged in this manner in nine years of this insane abuse.
My underwear was in with the bedsheets and jeans, and in keeping with the usual lint attacks on it, now a years-old sabotage game, they slathered lint on most pairs. I have never known clothing to get more messy from being laundered before, but it seems they want me to fuss over it, attempt to pull the wet lint off the damp garments, and then separate them out to hang dry. The towels alway throw lint onto the underwear, so they are never laundered together, but now jeans and bedsheets have started this up.
And as this will be a regular First Feral Family visitation, I will be travelling there this afternoon, and this will be a short posting to cover today's nonsense and abuse, being relatively low key habitation in this apartment.
The cleaning "need" started up once the laundry was in the washing machine in the laundry room some 30' down the hall. I got screwed out of dealing with it last week, and for the first time in nearly four years, the guck that sticks to the tile grout suddenly fell out with one pass of the J-Cloth with spray Vim on it. (Same as usual). And was this out of goodness over fuckery relief? Of course not, as the gunk became the putative source of the crumbs that kept showing up after I cleaned surfaces, as well as circulating in the bathtub when the water was running to rinse the cloth. And the long black hairs also increased in cleaning bathtub, tile, toilet and floor surfaces and don't ask me where they came from as I am not allowed to associate with anyone, particularly females, so whose hair was it? I have a notion, but I won't get into it for now, in keeping with retaining all the credibility I can muster.
I am going to post this for now, as this was today's excitement, and who knows what later abuses and coincidences with unfold in al their orchestrated inanity while associating with the FFF later today.
An 0700h get-up without the alarm, as it was set for 0800h. A 0130h bedtime last night due to a sudden midnight "need" to listen to music. Funny how that happens, and the usual switching between the samples the instant I click somewhere, with the imposed coincident confusion of whether I clicked and clobbered the web page that was the source of the music, or just coincidental page refresh. As always, the answers vary according to the circumstances in play, the imposed nature of the momentary befuddlement, and any other mind-fuck parameters around cognition they need to fuck with at my expense. And it seems they like vocalized sudden pitch changes too, the Alela Diane songs have somehow been rattling in my head for the week, and I haven't listened to them for at least that long. In fact, I couldn't recall who was singing the song they were playing in mind, e.g. yesterday while garden digging, and they told me. Finally last night, I was sent to the Myspace web page, and indeed, it is her, and the posted music is a combination from various albums which display on a per song basis. Just that I wasn't allowed to figure that out at first, and ended up sampling much of her music on Amazon in this sudden early AM curiousity eruption.
Going to bed late wasn't enough awake time it seemed; the kept me up for another hour or more with the outside loud mufflered vehicle noises, and with all manner of aburd ideations from this imaginary life they like to impose on me, the "reverie life", as opposed to this violated life. Their reverie games have been very consistent over the years, and back in 2005 they would start them up and I would add dialog, and if it wasn't dialog supplied by them I was immediately noisestalked every time. We are long past that now, and instead the coincident abuse was minor head pain; L jaw, then when covered with my hand ( and pain relieved), forehead (and pain relieved), and when covered by my other hand, it was L rear temple. Then I gave up.
And a bedsheet laundering this morning with the jeans from yesterday added in, having some light soil scuffings that arrived on me while doing the garden digging job yesterday. In addition to the fake touches I got from nowhere, as it wasn't the shovel handle that it felt like as one example. And I see the perps are back to yellowing my bedsheets around my head again, possibly in keeping with their usual annual bedsheet sabotage. The R. side pillow, the fitted sheet underneath were extra yellowed and per usual, it doesn't launder out for the most part. And I see they have started this on the underlying pillows too, another first in this insane sabotage method/circumstance that has plagued two previous bedsheet sets. Last year was a two year replacement, but if the perps keep up this accelerated bedsheet yellowing, this better quality sheetset won't go past the summer, the time of year for this near annual event. This is the fourth or fifth bedsheet set to be sabotaged in this manner in nine years of this insane abuse.
My underwear was in with the bedsheets and jeans, and in keeping with the usual lint attacks on it, now a years-old sabotage game, they slathered lint on most pairs. I have never known clothing to get more messy from being laundered before, but it seems they want me to fuss over it, attempt to pull the wet lint off the damp garments, and then separate them out to hang dry. The towels alway throw lint onto the underwear, so they are never laundered together, but now jeans and bedsheets have started this up.
And as this will be a regular First Feral Family visitation, I will be travelling there this afternoon, and this will be a short posting to cover today's nonsense and abuse, being relatively low key habitation in this apartment.
The cleaning "need" started up once the laundry was in the washing machine in the laundry room some 30' down the hall. I got screwed out of dealing with it last week, and for the first time in nearly four years, the guck that sticks to the tile grout suddenly fell out with one pass of the J-Cloth with spray Vim on it. (Same as usual). And was this out of goodness over fuckery relief? Of course not, as the gunk became the putative source of the crumbs that kept showing up after I cleaned surfaces, as well as circulating in the bathtub when the water was running to rinse the cloth. And the long black hairs also increased in cleaning bathtub, tile, toilet and floor surfaces and don't ask me where they came from as I am not allowed to associate with anyone, particularly females, so whose hair was it? I have a notion, but I won't get into it for now, in keeping with retaining all the credibility I can muster.
I am going to post this for now, as this was today's excitement, and who knows what later abuses and coincidences with unfold in al their orchestrated inanity while associating with the FFF later today.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Post Monday Ructions
0830h
An 0730h get-up, and no seeming sleep, though I suspect I got some. The loud mufflered vehicles outside to serenade me while in bed, then a "need" to turn over, and the noise repeats when I thought it had trailed off. These nightime "rotations", turning over in one's bed are part of the imposed "usual" for any given night, but are especially noticeable for a Monday, at 0030h no less.
Then the noise assault from outside to keep me company before a forced pee to get me up. A big siren show at about 0700h when the coconut butter was being spooned out from the jar onto the small size tortilla. The coconut butter (of the same source) is now crumbly and unsuited for spreading on normal leavened bread, so the tortilla solution, aka a wrap, works best, and cuts down on the crumb mess the perps foment at every opportunity. The assholes will even place crumbs in advance of the coconut butter being taken to the table, a few in place in advance, which is the same thing they do for kiwi fruits at lunch and dinner. The coconut butter application was also jerked around by having crumbs fly out from 2/3's down in the jar and onto to the counter. I cleaned these up with my finger, and lo, if there wasn't more coconut butter crumbs that had arrived on the countertop after having breakfast. I clean these up, and then I have chocolate, and get up for another cup of coffee, and lo, more coconut crumbs arrived again. I get back to the table where half the chocolate remains, and lo, if another coconut crumb didn't arrive in my absence from the table. Just another day of the crumb inundation, which has escalated since Oct. 01, 2010 when the farm work ended. Often, when dealing with some crumbs they will re-direct my vision to either more crumbs, often of a different color and/or opposite tonal quality, or else a simulated crumb by way of the small divots they dug into the formica countertop. Call it "crumb continuity" for whatever purpose this fucking insane abusive side show serves a multi-billion dollar covert organization.
Other bullshit this morning was getting faked out to put laundry on, and at about 0810h when there is normally no use of the laundry room, why, someone had just put on a load and the washing machine was filling extremely quietly for a rare instance, ensuring that I only discovered it by opening the door of the laundry room. Normally, I can hear the washing machine from my doorway, some 30' distant and around a corner, but "somehow" it was in quiet mode to suck me into going there and having me retrace my steps. Just like a Fuckwit, retracing one's steps, though I don't do that in public of course, but they do, and seem not to mind looking like total batshit crazy Fuckers off their meds.
Other bullshit in addition to the above laundry caper was to script the dude talk heard through the wall while I was begining to shave with a new razor insert, what I typically do every Tuesday morning. And it was a full frontal shave, having not done so yesterday at the First Feral Family home. The perps have an inordinate interest in me shaving, likely on two accounts; one being that I am cutting a substance with a steel edge and they cannot get enough of that (e.g. intensified noise stalking while cutting up chicken meat), two and three, that I am dragging a plastic item over me as well, the blade insert/mount, and it also has a teflon strip in it, another plastic variant of intense interest given the goretex (teflon membrane) anorak crowd that clusters around me. No doubt the assholes will be all over me when I head out to the city bus to take to my in-town brother's place for leaf raking there.
11-30-2010
This should of been posted yesterday, another forced "forget".
An 0730h get-up, and no seeming sleep, though I suspect I got some. The loud mufflered vehicles outside to serenade me while in bed, then a "need" to turn over, and the noise repeats when I thought it had trailed off. These nightime "rotations", turning over in one's bed are part of the imposed "usual" for any given night, but are especially noticeable for a Monday, at 0030h no less.
Then the noise assault from outside to keep me company before a forced pee to get me up. A big siren show at about 0700h when the coconut butter was being spooned out from the jar onto the small size tortilla. The coconut butter (of the same source) is now crumbly and unsuited for spreading on normal leavened bread, so the tortilla solution, aka a wrap, works best, and cuts down on the crumb mess the perps foment at every opportunity. The assholes will even place crumbs in advance of the coconut butter being taken to the table, a few in place in advance, which is the same thing they do for kiwi fruits at lunch and dinner. The coconut butter application was also jerked around by having crumbs fly out from 2/3's down in the jar and onto to the counter. I cleaned these up with my finger, and lo, if there wasn't more coconut butter crumbs that had arrived on the countertop after having breakfast. I clean these up, and then I have chocolate, and get up for another cup of coffee, and lo, more coconut crumbs arrived again. I get back to the table where half the chocolate remains, and lo, if another coconut crumb didn't arrive in my absence from the table. Just another day of the crumb inundation, which has escalated since Oct. 01, 2010 when the farm work ended. Often, when dealing with some crumbs they will re-direct my vision to either more crumbs, often of a different color and/or opposite tonal quality, or else a simulated crumb by way of the small divots they dug into the formica countertop. Call it "crumb continuity" for whatever purpose this fucking insane abusive side show serves a multi-billion dollar covert organization.
Other bullshit this morning was getting faked out to put laundry on, and at about 0810h when there is normally no use of the laundry room, why, someone had just put on a load and the washing machine was filling extremely quietly for a rare instance, ensuring that I only discovered it by opening the door of the laundry room. Normally, I can hear the washing machine from my doorway, some 30' distant and around a corner, but "somehow" it was in quiet mode to suck me into going there and having me retrace my steps. Just like a Fuckwit, retracing one's steps, though I don't do that in public of course, but they do, and seem not to mind looking like total batshit crazy Fuckers off their meds.
Other bullshit in addition to the above laundry caper was to script the dude talk heard through the wall while I was begining to shave with a new razor insert, what I typically do every Tuesday morning. And it was a full frontal shave, having not done so yesterday at the First Feral Family home. The perps have an inordinate interest in me shaving, likely on two accounts; one being that I am cutting a substance with a steel edge and they cannot get enough of that (e.g. intensified noise stalking while cutting up chicken meat), two and three, that I am dragging a plastic item over me as well, the blade insert/mount, and it also has a teflon strip in it, another plastic variant of intense interest given the goretex (teflon membrane) anorak crowd that clusters around me. No doubt the assholes will be all over me when I head out to the city bus to take to my in-town brother's place for leaf raking there.
11-30-2010
This should of been posted yesterday, another forced "forget".
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Short Sunday Post
1055h
A 0930h get-up for a 9 hour sleep, one hour more than usual, but not as bad as the 10 hour sleeps they have put me through for the last week. It is mighty dark with the rain and as it seems, the managed dinginess that goes on all too often. There were plenty of provocations to keep me vocalizing this morning, aka rage-ified or else as caustic diatribes to their jerkarounds. They keep up the poking and jabbing with forcefields, inside forearms, on the fingertips and nipples most often. Pulling objects from my grasp is another stunt they like to pull, and then there is the crumb games where they come from nowhere it seems and arrive nearby to be cleaned up, or else even evasive hopping when being picked or cleaned up. The overhead tapping noise started up when I was in the bathroom doing the usual shower, shave and dental hygiene routine. That, and the faked water-in-pipes noise at all gradations of volume.
The usual reaction to this round of increased abuse, though only a small increase, is to look at what is new or different. Starting a new bulk bag of cereal might of been one insane reason for the perps, as this is usually a three month cycle. Another is that I started on metal foil wrapped chocolate this morning, the first in 6 weeks or more. There were 8" plasma emanations in white parallel lines coming off the metal foil, and no ostensible cause, being a first time event. I have had plenty of this kind of chocolate before at breakfast, and never seen any plasmic emanations, and there are no lights overhead as if it were reflections. (Which is what they do everyday in the bathroom, have 3 to 5" plasma beams emanating from the reflective faucet). So it would seem that the assholes are escalating the abusive bullshit some, and it remains to see if this will be permanent. They seem to have me cycling for months on differing kinds of chocolate wrapping as well as color variations thereof. They cut me off lavender colored plastic wrapped MIlka bars for over four weeks now, and have kept the empty shelf space at the LD store all along. Not to mention covering me with four or more gangstalker assholes each time I visit the LD store, such as yesterday. As part of their study it seems that they also want to understand the energetics of the dinner plates as well; the plastic wrapped chocolate gets put on a dinner plate (with recent variations of new crockery), while the metal foil chocolate is kept in the foil wrapper on the table after being slit with a knife, which also begets a round of fuckery in its own right. (The foil slits into wire pieces as well, which makes for two parallel cuts when I am making one).
One affronting crumb game this morning was to fly a 1/8" crumb of coconut butter, from inside of my wrapped tortilla, and have it take an impossible trajectory and arrive on my upper legs, on the leg hairs. (No reason to get dressed up for breakfast when on one's own). This was all the more provocative as I was leaning over the table and the dinner plate to prevent just such an event, and somehow, it just "happened". And I cut down on the crumb fucking games by having unleavened bread, a tortilla in fact, in which I wrap the sometimes crumbly (another jerkaround) coconut butter. In other words, I take all the precautions of crumb prevention, e.g. wrapped tortilla, low crumb nut butter, lean over my plate, and lo, if a crumb doesn't suddenly erupt onto my leg. Other crumb hopping games, from tortilla, to dinner plate as I attempt to pick it up with no fumbling have also erupted in association with the coconut butter. Not to mention, coconut butter crumbs come from nowhere to "join me" for the next breakfast course, the chocolate they so like me to have. In other words, they want a coconut butter retrospective test for the next course, as in energetic interaction testing. And yes, coconut crumbs have also arrived elsewhere in the kitchen on sections of counter some 3' away from where it was handled and taken from the jar.
And it is the first time use of the Woolite laundry detergent today, another major perp obsession. More interesting in that they had me using Tide for over two years, every day when cleaning clothes after farm work. But because they choked down the Tide at the LD store, a substitute detergent was needed, and lo, if it wasn't one from long ago, in the intense fuckover days of 2002.
I expect this will be a post for this morning only, as my First Feral Family contact and visitation duties will be duly impressed upon me, and leaf raking seems to be the big perp deal these days. And even yellow leaves in the hallway this morning as I walk past the elevators to go to the laundry room. I suppose it wasn't enough that they painted the hallways yellow earlier this year.
Not quite, my perp-abetting mother has a lunch event on, and so I may be making my own way to her place later this afternoon instead of getting picked up. That means, "take the bus", the single most important gangstalking vehicle as they can have the Fuckwits and Freaks coursing around me while it is moving. Not to mention the Crotch Dudes, the now commonplace event of these dudes with their legs splayed open to release all that kundilini energy it would seem. And they do like to pack the bus with the most unlikeliest bus passengers; the one stop travel nutters, the raucous dudes, the well dressed women and of course the more regular Fuckwits and vagrants. And why is the bus so full up on Sundays, as I just don't get it, save the orchestrated games. Who knows where the bus might of been beforehand, and how many practice runs the assholes will do before and after.
1410h
Wrong again; in-town bother will pick me up instead of the public transit gangstalking vehicle. Or at least, that was the content of the latest phone call, adroitly timed while folding laundry that was "forgotten" for 45 min. in the stopped dryer. I had the towels put away, but still had the one olive green shirt wprn yesterday to be put away, along with a white tea towel, both lying on the bed. So... a 10 minute phone call with relevance, and then back to the remaining laundry items and then to have lunch.
I am going to post this now, in case I get "forgetted" to get this online. And still no movement on applying for work or getting my resume online, a six week thwarted exercise, and still in progress.
A 0930h get-up for a 9 hour sleep, one hour more than usual, but not as bad as the 10 hour sleeps they have put me through for the last week. It is mighty dark with the rain and as it seems, the managed dinginess that goes on all too often. There were plenty of provocations to keep me vocalizing this morning, aka rage-ified or else as caustic diatribes to their jerkarounds. They keep up the poking and jabbing with forcefields, inside forearms, on the fingertips and nipples most often. Pulling objects from my grasp is another stunt they like to pull, and then there is the crumb games where they come from nowhere it seems and arrive nearby to be cleaned up, or else even evasive hopping when being picked or cleaned up. The overhead tapping noise started up when I was in the bathroom doing the usual shower, shave and dental hygiene routine. That, and the faked water-in-pipes noise at all gradations of volume.
The usual reaction to this round of increased abuse, though only a small increase, is to look at what is new or different. Starting a new bulk bag of cereal might of been one insane reason for the perps, as this is usually a three month cycle. Another is that I started on metal foil wrapped chocolate this morning, the first in 6 weeks or more. There were 8" plasma emanations in white parallel lines coming off the metal foil, and no ostensible cause, being a first time event. I have had plenty of this kind of chocolate before at breakfast, and never seen any plasmic emanations, and there are no lights overhead as if it were reflections. (Which is what they do everyday in the bathroom, have 3 to 5" plasma beams emanating from the reflective faucet). So it would seem that the assholes are escalating the abusive bullshit some, and it remains to see if this will be permanent. They seem to have me cycling for months on differing kinds of chocolate wrapping as well as color variations thereof. They cut me off lavender colored plastic wrapped MIlka bars for over four weeks now, and have kept the empty shelf space at the LD store all along. Not to mention covering me with four or more gangstalker assholes each time I visit the LD store, such as yesterday. As part of their study it seems that they also want to understand the energetics of the dinner plates as well; the plastic wrapped chocolate gets put on a dinner plate (with recent variations of new crockery), while the metal foil chocolate is kept in the foil wrapper on the table after being slit with a knife, which also begets a round of fuckery in its own right. (The foil slits into wire pieces as well, which makes for two parallel cuts when I am making one).
One affronting crumb game this morning was to fly a 1/8" crumb of coconut butter, from inside of my wrapped tortilla, and have it take an impossible trajectory and arrive on my upper legs, on the leg hairs. (No reason to get dressed up for breakfast when on one's own). This was all the more provocative as I was leaning over the table and the dinner plate to prevent just such an event, and somehow, it just "happened". And I cut down on the crumb fucking games by having unleavened bread, a tortilla in fact, in which I wrap the sometimes crumbly (another jerkaround) coconut butter. In other words, I take all the precautions of crumb prevention, e.g. wrapped tortilla, low crumb nut butter, lean over my plate, and lo, if a crumb doesn't suddenly erupt onto my leg. Other crumb hopping games, from tortilla, to dinner plate as I attempt to pick it up with no fumbling have also erupted in association with the coconut butter. Not to mention, coconut butter crumbs come from nowhere to "join me" for the next breakfast course, the chocolate they so like me to have. In other words, they want a coconut butter retrospective test for the next course, as in energetic interaction testing. And yes, coconut crumbs have also arrived elsewhere in the kitchen on sections of counter some 3' away from where it was handled and taken from the jar.
And it is the first time use of the Woolite laundry detergent today, another major perp obsession. More interesting in that they had me using Tide for over two years, every day when cleaning clothes after farm work. But because they choked down the Tide at the LD store, a substitute detergent was needed, and lo, if it wasn't one from long ago, in the intense fuckover days of 2002.
I expect this will be a post for this morning only, as my First Feral Family contact and visitation duties will be duly impressed upon me, and leaf raking seems to be the big perp deal these days. And even yellow leaves in the hallway this morning as I walk past the elevators to go to the laundry room. I suppose it wasn't enough that they painted the hallways yellow earlier this year.
Not quite, my perp-abetting mother has a lunch event on, and so I may be making my own way to her place later this afternoon instead of getting picked up. That means, "take the bus", the single most important gangstalking vehicle as they can have the Fuckwits and Freaks coursing around me while it is moving. Not to mention the Crotch Dudes, the now commonplace event of these dudes with their legs splayed open to release all that kundilini energy it would seem. And they do like to pack the bus with the most unlikeliest bus passengers; the one stop travel nutters, the raucous dudes, the well dressed women and of course the more regular Fuckwits and vagrants. And why is the bus so full up on Sundays, as I just don't get it, save the orchestrated games. Who knows where the bus might of been beforehand, and how many practice runs the assholes will do before and after.
1410h
Wrong again; in-town bother will pick me up instead of the public transit gangstalking vehicle. Or at least, that was the content of the latest phone call, adroitly timed while folding laundry that was "forgotten" for 45 min. in the stopped dryer. I had the towels put away, but still had the one olive green shirt wprn yesterday to be put away, along with a white tea towel, both lying on the bed. So... a 10 minute phone call with relevance, and then back to the remaining laundry items and then to have lunch.
I am going to post this now, in case I get "forgetted" to get this online. And still no movement on applying for work or getting my resume online, a six week thwarted exercise, and still in progress.
Monday, September 20, 2010
Crumb Inundatations
Sept. 19, 2010
1320h
A day off from farm work, that will make it a three day weekend with a doctor appointment tomorrow. Just the usual "visit the East Indian" trip, no specific purpose other than that. He might have one his "students" in there too, or sometimes another doctor. Last time it was an Asian shrink who came to sit in, so it would be combination of Asian and East Indian male doctors. I am on record with predicting my next replacement doctor to be a negro, going up the brown skin scale, from Caucasian, Asian, East Indian where it currently is. Though I am told that negro shrinks are a rarity, I am sure the sickos will find one when they need it. As in "when", not if, though I cannot be 100% sure, but it seems the perps are still working on their negro exposures, especially male negroes, possibly related to traumatization associations of their doing when I was young, abused, and then recall deleted. It seems that subconscious recallections are what they are working on, and have been since they went into overt harassment in 2002. I say this abusive and depredative life rape has some 3 to 4 years to go, given that it has taken them 8 years to getting around to allowing me have food cut with a ceramic blade instead of steel.
I got two pieces of bum advice yesterday, found out today. The tea shop was said to have Bodum teapots with infusers, and the nearby coffee shop was said to have manual coffee grinders. I went and did a post-rain excursion to these two stores and got skunked on both. I did get some loose tea though, something I had wanted to do for over a year. That is how it goes; crank me up on an interest and then keep reminding me of it every few weeks for a year or more, and then finally allow me to execute the plan. Gangstalking and other stunts enroute and return and in the store are not optional.
Another long standing event that was allowed to be completed today was laundering my microfiber coat with a fleece liner. It looked scuzzy and the assholes wouldn't let me wash it until today. Wonders never cease.
The 1405h #27 bus was 10 minutes late, long enough to put on an extensive gangstalking vehicular show with the Asian woman rudely standing in mid-sidewalk some 7' away. When the bus finally came, why, it was near full, and I end up getting a seat beside her and her odd head drooping habits. I never did figure out what she was doing exactly, and whether it might of been an intense music listening experience. Her standing in mid-sidewalk next to the bus shelter meant that the procession of ambulatory gangstalkers that came from behind her all had an excuse to step onto the ashphalt street to get around her, and she didn't move after the first such obvious signs of obstructing public egress. I have never seen an Asian so fucking rude before, but there are so many firsts in this role as an exotic abusee.
Sept. 20, 2010
1600h
A stayover at the First Family Feral home last night, with prior serial visitations by my daughter in the afternoon (scraping for donations fo Run For the Cure (huge cancer fundraiser here)) and then my in-town brother for dinner. Then a near pointless trip to Lee Valley Tools for a chain mail glove to protect me using the recently purchased mandoline slicer, but as it was $80 plus taxes I defered, not having done any other prior shopping to find alternatives. Then an hour of yard work, resuming the digging job of removing the plastic sheeting buried in the soil, but as it was so extensive I had to cut it off and make another project out of the rest of it, as it is over one foot deep. This digging project to level a 10' square backyard corner had begun four weeks ago, and has already uncovered three other buried plastic sheets. I assume this is all perp related as they are totally consumed with the effects on plastics on soil, plant growth, water contact, and of course ageing. I don't think my parents put the plastic sheeting down, as they had no reason to. And I see that there is orange colored polyethylene plastic there, a relatively new product and different from the transparent and the black colored poly sheet that has been around for some decades.
And while my daughter was visiting with their family standard poodle, the next door neighbor saw fit to engage in some soil slamming to shake the house a little and add concurrent noise. The guy had started a fence repair job and "decided" that it was served by slamming the post down into the dug hole, presumably to compact the bottom of the hole so he could pour concrete in it to set the fence post. As mentioned, the sickos will use any excuse to increase the noise and vibration level, especially when there is more family about.
Another perp interest is plants, their roots, and soil interaction. The above mentioned digging job uncovered many roots of the nearby pine trees that had grown around, or between layered plastic sheets. This digging job exposed the roots, as the plastic had guided them to some extent. This same digging job had been held up for some three weeks as it was raining each of the past three Sundays, my only normal day off, save today. The doctor appointment forced me to take a weekday off, which was cleared with the employer in advance. As always, the SAC overhead aircraft noise started up when I started digging, and was near continuous for the hour that I was engaged in this activity. Other "regular noise" was the off-on percussive roofing noise, as if someone had started yet another roofing job in my proximity, wielding an air gun intermitently, unlike any roofing job I have known.
And the doctor appointment was duly attended by an "assistant" who asked all kinds of questions, making out that he wasn't up to speed with my case history. It went OK, and I didn't figuratively impale myself on describing gangstalking, harassment and the progression of mind control research. The major pissoff was that the appointment started 10 minutes late while the procession of wierds and oddities passed by, some doing back-and-forths, some doing synchronized seated posture changes, and others varying their spinal orientation, from slouch to bent over, like they were going to take a crap. I reckon ithat it was more important that I spend extra time sitting in the copper colored upholstered chairs, given that it is a highly featured gangstalking color, and that it is the third change in seating that has been arranged in that waiting room in the past seven years.
Said "assistant" was similar in face and eye appearence to the former work colleague I keep in touch with, and who emailed me two days ago about meeting a mutual colleague who suffers from MS. We didn't get together as it "happened" as there was no return phone call from our colleague. Such interactions that don't reach fruition have been noted in prior situations where a near-doppelganger "happens" to appear not long afterward. The perps seem to be seeking some kind of intrinsic neural signature of communication with the same person, be it by email (the past two days), phone (in the past), or in person with them morphed over (possibly today).
As one TI indicated to me early on, the sickos read one's spine like it is an aerial. And that seems to be true, as the fuckers are all over me (extra gangtalking) when I walk from yoga class back to my apartment. And too, a public yoga class out yesterday when I went to two stores, getting skunked at both on what I intended to purchase. The manual coffee grinder and the teapot with a stainless steel insert basket instead of a nylon one will have to wait yet again. The perps seem driven to have me get a glass teapot, and like to noisestalk me while the color changes while the tea is steeping. Heaven knows when they will let me have a ceramic teapot.
A city bus ride to downtown, then a freakshow at the supermarket while shopping enroute to my apartment. The assholes fucked me out of getting the bus I wanted; I was to get a #11 and the screwed me out of knowing that is the one I take, and I had to walk another half block to get a #14. Like WTF; why is it important to them that they screw me out of an intended bus? I don't make those kind of mistakes as I know most of the bus routes in this town, and yet they fucked my cognition and access to my knowledge.
1715h
A sudden Firefox browser crash a few minutes ago. All to follow the prior boot-up where last tabs were to come up but didn't for "some reason". About 99% of the time I boot up Firefox I have the last most tabs as it saves opening new ones and serves to remind me of what I was last working on, looking at or planning to revisit. Soo.. to change things up as they do, they fucked my Firefox boot up to have no saved tabs from the last session. That is how it goes in Sabotage Land, even the most picayune habits or routines get trashed for their own sake.
An eruption of dude talk from a neaby balcony; I closed the window and put on my earmuffs and was not able to atenuate the noise level by any appreciable degree. I don't why the perps insist on arranging loud dudes to banter just out of word-audible range, but still within voice noise audible range, but that is how it has been for over eight years, these ersatz dude chats in my proximity. And I don't have any particular insight or given read as to why they are doing this either.
2130h
An noisy evening as the dude banter re-started again while making dinner and continued while eating and cleaning the dishes. That, and the thumpy stereo noise from a putative neighbor was my accompaniment on this particular Monday. Another first was that I used my new Microplane cheese shredder today, acquired two days ago and without the usual months of "fallow time" for most new acquisitions before they are permitted to be used. I haven't figured out why this applies to some but not other items. And some items are acquired and so far, years later, never used. The safety toed boots were bought in 2008 in the anticipation of future construction laboring work that never materialized, and haven't been worn yet. Which suggests a future job in some capacity where tey will be worn, but so far, nothing yet and I have no idea what it might be. IT work would not ordinarily have a call for this footwear, but in my circumstances one just does not know what is around the corner. The sickos don't like me to have much money, and a decent wage job doesn't seem to be in the offing. Though, they could get me on the expense side if I had a decent paying job; automotive expenses are often a money pit they like to exploit with strange and unexpected vehicle repairs. Been there, done that.
Enough for a post, and insurance that this isn't blown away like recent perp blog sabotage.
1320h
A day off from farm work, that will make it a three day weekend with a doctor appointment tomorrow. Just the usual "visit the East Indian" trip, no specific purpose other than that. He might have one his "students" in there too, or sometimes another doctor. Last time it was an Asian shrink who came to sit in, so it would be combination of Asian and East Indian male doctors. I am on record with predicting my next replacement doctor to be a negro, going up the brown skin scale, from Caucasian, Asian, East Indian where it currently is. Though I am told that negro shrinks are a rarity, I am sure the sickos will find one when they need it. As in "when", not if, though I cannot be 100% sure, but it seems the perps are still working on their negro exposures, especially male negroes, possibly related to traumatization associations of their doing when I was young, abused, and then recall deleted. It seems that subconscious recallections are what they are working on, and have been since they went into overt harassment in 2002. I say this abusive and depredative life rape has some 3 to 4 years to go, given that it has taken them 8 years to getting around to allowing me have food cut with a ceramic blade instead of steel.
I got two pieces of bum advice yesterday, found out today. The tea shop was said to have Bodum teapots with infusers, and the nearby coffee shop was said to have manual coffee grinders. I went and did a post-rain excursion to these two stores and got skunked on both. I did get some loose tea though, something I had wanted to do for over a year. That is how it goes; crank me up on an interest and then keep reminding me of it every few weeks for a year or more, and then finally allow me to execute the plan. Gangstalking and other stunts enroute and return and in the store are not optional.
Another long standing event that was allowed to be completed today was laundering my microfiber coat with a fleece liner. It looked scuzzy and the assholes wouldn't let me wash it until today. Wonders never cease.
The 1405h #27 bus was 10 minutes late, long enough to put on an extensive gangstalking vehicular show with the Asian woman rudely standing in mid-sidewalk some 7' away. When the bus finally came, why, it was near full, and I end up getting a seat beside her and her odd head drooping habits. I never did figure out what she was doing exactly, and whether it might of been an intense music listening experience. Her standing in mid-sidewalk next to the bus shelter meant that the procession of ambulatory gangstalkers that came from behind her all had an excuse to step onto the ashphalt street to get around her, and she didn't move after the first such obvious signs of obstructing public egress. I have never seen an Asian so fucking rude before, but there are so many firsts in this role as an exotic abusee.
Sept. 20, 2010
1600h
A stayover at the First Family Feral home last night, with prior serial visitations by my daughter in the afternoon (scraping for donations fo Run For the Cure (huge cancer fundraiser here)) and then my in-town brother for dinner. Then a near pointless trip to Lee Valley Tools for a chain mail glove to protect me using the recently purchased mandoline slicer, but as it was $80 plus taxes I defered, not having done any other prior shopping to find alternatives. Then an hour of yard work, resuming the digging job of removing the plastic sheeting buried in the soil, but as it was so extensive I had to cut it off and make another project out of the rest of it, as it is over one foot deep. This digging project to level a 10' square backyard corner had begun four weeks ago, and has already uncovered three other buried plastic sheets. I assume this is all perp related as they are totally consumed with the effects on plastics on soil, plant growth, water contact, and of course ageing. I don't think my parents put the plastic sheeting down, as they had no reason to. And I see that there is orange colored polyethylene plastic there, a relatively new product and different from the transparent and the black colored poly sheet that has been around for some decades.
And while my daughter was visiting with their family standard poodle, the next door neighbor saw fit to engage in some soil slamming to shake the house a little and add concurrent noise. The guy had started a fence repair job and "decided" that it was served by slamming the post down into the dug hole, presumably to compact the bottom of the hole so he could pour concrete in it to set the fence post. As mentioned, the sickos will use any excuse to increase the noise and vibration level, especially when there is more family about.
Another perp interest is plants, their roots, and soil interaction. The above mentioned digging job uncovered many roots of the nearby pine trees that had grown around, or between layered plastic sheets. This digging job exposed the roots, as the plastic had guided them to some extent. This same digging job had been held up for some three weeks as it was raining each of the past three Sundays, my only normal day off, save today. The doctor appointment forced me to take a weekday off, which was cleared with the employer in advance. As always, the SAC overhead aircraft noise started up when I started digging, and was near continuous for the hour that I was engaged in this activity. Other "regular noise" was the off-on percussive roofing noise, as if someone had started yet another roofing job in my proximity, wielding an air gun intermitently, unlike any roofing job I have known.
And the doctor appointment was duly attended by an "assistant" who asked all kinds of questions, making out that he wasn't up to speed with my case history. It went OK, and I didn't figuratively impale myself on describing gangstalking, harassment and the progression of mind control research. The major pissoff was that the appointment started 10 minutes late while the procession of wierds and oddities passed by, some doing back-and-forths, some doing synchronized seated posture changes, and others varying their spinal orientation, from slouch to bent over, like they were going to take a crap. I reckon ithat it was more important that I spend extra time sitting in the copper colored upholstered chairs, given that it is a highly featured gangstalking color, and that it is the third change in seating that has been arranged in that waiting room in the past seven years.
Said "assistant" was similar in face and eye appearence to the former work colleague I keep in touch with, and who emailed me two days ago about meeting a mutual colleague who suffers from MS. We didn't get together as it "happened" as there was no return phone call from our colleague. Such interactions that don't reach fruition have been noted in prior situations where a near-doppelganger "happens" to appear not long afterward. The perps seem to be seeking some kind of intrinsic neural signature of communication with the same person, be it by email (the past two days), phone (in the past), or in person with them morphed over (possibly today).
As one TI indicated to me early on, the sickos read one's spine like it is an aerial. And that seems to be true, as the fuckers are all over me (extra gangtalking) when I walk from yoga class back to my apartment. And too, a public yoga class out yesterday when I went to two stores, getting skunked at both on what I intended to purchase. The manual coffee grinder and the teapot with a stainless steel insert basket instead of a nylon one will have to wait yet again. The perps seem driven to have me get a glass teapot, and like to noisestalk me while the color changes while the tea is steeping. Heaven knows when they will let me have a ceramic teapot.
A city bus ride to downtown, then a freakshow at the supermarket while shopping enroute to my apartment. The assholes fucked me out of getting the bus I wanted; I was to get a #11 and the screwed me out of knowing that is the one I take, and I had to walk another half block to get a #14. Like WTF; why is it important to them that they screw me out of an intended bus? I don't make those kind of mistakes as I know most of the bus routes in this town, and yet they fucked my cognition and access to my knowledge.
1715h
A sudden Firefox browser crash a few minutes ago. All to follow the prior boot-up where last tabs were to come up but didn't for "some reason". About 99% of the time I boot up Firefox I have the last most tabs as it saves opening new ones and serves to remind me of what I was last working on, looking at or planning to revisit. Soo.. to change things up as they do, they fucked my Firefox boot up to have no saved tabs from the last session. That is how it goes in Sabotage Land, even the most picayune habits or routines get trashed for their own sake.
An eruption of dude talk from a neaby balcony; I closed the window and put on my earmuffs and was not able to atenuate the noise level by any appreciable degree. I don't why the perps insist on arranging loud dudes to banter just out of word-audible range, but still within voice noise audible range, but that is how it has been for over eight years, these ersatz dude chats in my proximity. And I don't have any particular insight or given read as to why they are doing this either.
2130h
An noisy evening as the dude banter re-started again while making dinner and continued while eating and cleaning the dishes. That, and the thumpy stereo noise from a putative neighbor was my accompaniment on this particular Monday. Another first was that I used my new Microplane cheese shredder today, acquired two days ago and without the usual months of "fallow time" for most new acquisitions before they are permitted to be used. I haven't figured out why this applies to some but not other items. And some items are acquired and so far, years later, never used. The safety toed boots were bought in 2008 in the anticipation of future construction laboring work that never materialized, and haven't been worn yet. Which suggests a future job in some capacity where tey will be worn, but so far, nothing yet and I have no idea what it might be. IT work would not ordinarily have a call for this footwear, but in my circumstances one just does not know what is around the corner. The sickos don't like me to have much money, and a decent wage job doesn't seem to be in the offing. Though, they could get me on the expense side if I had a decent paying job; automotive expenses are often a money pit they like to exploit with strange and unexpected vehicle repairs. Been there, done that.
Enough for a post, and insurance that this isn't blown away like recent perp blog sabotage.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Outside Before Breakfast
1145h
A forced "forget" last night, the assholes reminding me that there was milk to purchase just as the local supermarket closed for the evening. Invariably, that is how it goes; "happenchance" reminders after an evening of "forgetting" at store closing time.
So... dressed and outside before breakfast is a rare event, and for that extra flakes and Fuckwit gangstalkers were on duty, and crossing my path, even twice was a bigger deal than usual. The seeming staff member crossed my path just as I entered the store, and then 90 degrees offset, and after I picked up the Saturday national newspaper, was set to cross my path again, and did the polite staff thing of deferring and letting me go first. Then a skinhead dude burst from the aisles, me with newspaper in hand as they fucked me out of getting a shopping basket as there were none at the usual location of the stack. So onto the stack at the E. side of the store, and the first two had plastic bags in them, and so I get the third one, it having onion skins in it still. And have I mentioned how often onion skins and bulb plants come up as part of the fuckery games? Not this week any how.
And while shopping there, the stalking/stocking person was making the loudest noise possible in handling the placing the potatoe chips two aisles away, shaking and squeezing every bag at least twice before putting them on the shelf, and I wouldn't be surprised if there was some extra noise augmentation going on as well, to go with the squeezing and manipulation of the mylar packaging, something the perps are prone to do. The apparent reason is that mylar when stressed gives off small luminescent bursts I read somewhere.
Then out of the local supermarket to then do the gangstalker gauntlet back to this apartment building, where the infernal butt sucking dude was parading around in a semi-frantic state for no reason. Every apartment has a balcony, so why in the fuck does this shit come out to the front door area and parade around like he does? All regular gangstalkers have a certain annoyance attribution, and it seems that this one is no exception.
Another stunt when outbound was to arrange a suited Fuckwit to emerge from the stairwell at the same moment I emerged from the elevator and then have the shit converge on me at the front door. As mentioned in past postings, the sickos like to set up public gangstalker convergences on me, especially with males, and this was only a single instance. And, as the stairwell is at the landing, and door was kept open from yesterday's painting in the lobby, I should of heard the Fuckwit coming down the stairs, which means he was pre-positioned and waiting on the small landing. Been there, done that, as is witnessing a Fuckwit get late notice on proceeding instead of waiting.
Then after breakfast, the shaving process got supremely rage-fied with the assholes whacking me in the dick when the towel was at least 6" away and not moving. I go through an elaborate process each time when I use the towel after a shower to ensure there are no loose ends, and lo, if somehow I didn't get whacked in the dick again. The assholes have been stepping up this particular form of abuse of late, and sometimes they just whack me in the dick without a towel in hand to get the rage level up faster. But as I shave my entire front each day, and had a shirt on beforehand when I went to store before breakfast, I am quite certain that this insane and abusive enragement fuckery was related to the rarity of pre-breakfast shopping and clothes wearing. Mostly, I don't have a shirt on during breakfast, immediately prior to my shower and dental hygeine routine. Or at least, that is how it has been for the past year when I expedited the morning routine to take less time, putting on clothes for breakfast and then off again immediately afterward.
And I see the coconut butter has now entered its fourth change of physical properties, a 500g, jar, becoming like peanut butter, smooth and pliable at room temperature. It started out crumbly, then became pliable, then crumbly again, and yesterday I noted the arrival of some liquid in the bottom of the jar, and that the nut butter had smoothed out. I bought two identical jars at the same time, and the first one stayed crumbly the entire time, over some six weeks of use.
And I see that the assholes are getting me ready for peanut butter consumption again, having two smashed jars of it on the street, two blocks apart, two days ago. It does make me wonder what their game is as to nuts, nut butter and food oils consumption, a long running perp interest I have come to know. They have had me on peanut butter for over seven years of daily use, and then had me go through three jars of coconut butter for the past four months. Back to peanut butter again, especially with that one kg. jar sitting in the cupboard for the past two months or more, as some kind of reference perhaps to the adjacent coconut butter jars, kept there even when in use as it gets too solid (usually) when it is kept in the fridge. All too complicated for me, and why is it that my food, and the color of my food, so important to an undeclared abusive Fourth Reich outfit that has bought this town?
1610h
A screaming rage show over taking a shit earlier, unlike any since their last climatic levels of 2006. They plaster shit on me, blocked the toilet, shitted the plunger, and then as an "extra", they flicked shit onto a towel on the floor. Then they jerked me around attempting to clean it up, and also engineered a toilet roll change in the middle of all all this. A shower to clean up, and then the towel is now getting laundered. Why cannot I be left alone to take a shit, and what is it about the color brown that the assholes are so hyped about? Only in the last two weeks have they ventured to place dark brown gangstalking vehicles in my proximity, marking their progress over eight years of insane abuse over the color of brown. This is fucking insane that I cannot be allowed to take a crap without being fucked with and rendered into a screaming wreck.
1855h
Dinner was duly made and eaten, and at least three rage-ifications over food flicking, crumb inundation and water flicking onto my jeans of no conventional means. The games have escalated in the past two months to screw me around while dealing with their messes and the like. The crumbs that hop off the cleaning sponge after being picked up is one example, or just won't plain get picked up any more with a wetted sponge when they always did. Also, many more crumbs just arrive from nowhere on my plate these days, all for them to have me obsessively pick them up with my finger tips, assuming they don't hop off.
And dinner was arranged to follow on from the laundry, after handling and putting the towels away. Morning time laundering was nearly always like that, finishing laundry handling and then it was lunch time. It is rare that they have me do laundry in the afternoon, especially two sessions. And it seems they wanted the laundry machines to be vacated for an hour or so until they started the shit games mentioned above.
A dull evening, but I see that the sky to the E. is unclouded, but to the W. it is, all to reduce the intensity of the dusk onset sunlight and the faux reflectance off W. facing residential towers that "happen" to beam right into this apartment. And I see the games have just begun with an upward facing window shoot a beam in here.
2020h
Post tea time with chocolate; at least one screaming at the assholes when they rotated the round Bodum tea pot 180 degrees after it was placed in the dishes rack after cleaning. The asshole cannot get enough abusive fuckery in when doing the dishes. The teapot didn't slowly roll, it was powered and then suddenly stopped. Fucking tiresome.
2215h
Last round of posting tonight; a tour through the many bookmarked sites I rarely visit as they don't change much over a week, my assigned notion of currency. No major insights or web site finds, as the profusion of BS remains problematical for me to sort out. The sickos did put on the clunking noises while reading about the Katyn war crimes. What I am allowed to read at length is highly governed it seems as they will dither my reading should I stray onto something else, and make it a pointless effort. Ditto for books I have, especially ones that cast some relevance onto my own circumstances, especially the state of the clinical and theological abuses in Quebec in the 1950's, when I lived there for two of my formative years.
This one is done for the day, and onto a FFF visit tomorrow night.
A forced "forget" last night, the assholes reminding me that there was milk to purchase just as the local supermarket closed for the evening. Invariably, that is how it goes; "happenchance" reminders after an evening of "forgetting" at store closing time.
So... dressed and outside before breakfast is a rare event, and for that extra flakes and Fuckwit gangstalkers were on duty, and crossing my path, even twice was a bigger deal than usual. The seeming staff member crossed my path just as I entered the store, and then 90 degrees offset, and after I picked up the Saturday national newspaper, was set to cross my path again, and did the polite staff thing of deferring and letting me go first. Then a skinhead dude burst from the aisles, me with newspaper in hand as they fucked me out of getting a shopping basket as there were none at the usual location of the stack. So onto the stack at the E. side of the store, and the first two had plastic bags in them, and so I get the third one, it having onion skins in it still. And have I mentioned how often onion skins and bulb plants come up as part of the fuckery games? Not this week any how.
And while shopping there, the stalking/stocking person was making the loudest noise possible in handling the placing the potatoe chips two aisles away, shaking and squeezing every bag at least twice before putting them on the shelf, and I wouldn't be surprised if there was some extra noise augmentation going on as well, to go with the squeezing and manipulation of the mylar packaging, something the perps are prone to do. The apparent reason is that mylar when stressed gives off small luminescent bursts I read somewhere.
Then out of the local supermarket to then do the gangstalker gauntlet back to this apartment building, where the infernal butt sucking dude was parading around in a semi-frantic state for no reason. Every apartment has a balcony, so why in the fuck does this shit come out to the front door area and parade around like he does? All regular gangstalkers have a certain annoyance attribution, and it seems that this one is no exception.
Another stunt when outbound was to arrange a suited Fuckwit to emerge from the stairwell at the same moment I emerged from the elevator and then have the shit converge on me at the front door. As mentioned in past postings, the sickos like to set up public gangstalker convergences on me, especially with males, and this was only a single instance. And, as the stairwell is at the landing, and door was kept open from yesterday's painting in the lobby, I should of heard the Fuckwit coming down the stairs, which means he was pre-positioned and waiting on the small landing. Been there, done that, as is witnessing a Fuckwit get late notice on proceeding instead of waiting.
Then after breakfast, the shaving process got supremely rage-fied with the assholes whacking me in the dick when the towel was at least 6" away and not moving. I go through an elaborate process each time when I use the towel after a shower to ensure there are no loose ends, and lo, if somehow I didn't get whacked in the dick again. The assholes have been stepping up this particular form of abuse of late, and sometimes they just whack me in the dick without a towel in hand to get the rage level up faster. But as I shave my entire front each day, and had a shirt on beforehand when I went to store before breakfast, I am quite certain that this insane and abusive enragement fuckery was related to the rarity of pre-breakfast shopping and clothes wearing. Mostly, I don't have a shirt on during breakfast, immediately prior to my shower and dental hygeine routine. Or at least, that is how it has been for the past year when I expedited the morning routine to take less time, putting on clothes for breakfast and then off again immediately afterward.
And I see the coconut butter has now entered its fourth change of physical properties, a 500g, jar, becoming like peanut butter, smooth and pliable at room temperature. It started out crumbly, then became pliable, then crumbly again, and yesterday I noted the arrival of some liquid in the bottom of the jar, and that the nut butter had smoothed out. I bought two identical jars at the same time, and the first one stayed crumbly the entire time, over some six weeks of use.
And I see that the assholes are getting me ready for peanut butter consumption again, having two smashed jars of it on the street, two blocks apart, two days ago. It does make me wonder what their game is as to nuts, nut butter and food oils consumption, a long running perp interest I have come to know. They have had me on peanut butter for over seven years of daily use, and then had me go through three jars of coconut butter for the past four months. Back to peanut butter again, especially with that one kg. jar sitting in the cupboard for the past two months or more, as some kind of reference perhaps to the adjacent coconut butter jars, kept there even when in use as it gets too solid (usually) when it is kept in the fridge. All too complicated for me, and why is it that my food, and the color of my food, so important to an undeclared abusive Fourth Reich outfit that has bought this town?
1610h
A screaming rage show over taking a shit earlier, unlike any since their last climatic levels of 2006. They plaster shit on me, blocked the toilet, shitted the plunger, and then as an "extra", they flicked shit onto a towel on the floor. Then they jerked me around attempting to clean it up, and also engineered a toilet roll change in the middle of all all this. A shower to clean up, and then the towel is now getting laundered. Why cannot I be left alone to take a shit, and what is it about the color brown that the assholes are so hyped about? Only in the last two weeks have they ventured to place dark brown gangstalking vehicles in my proximity, marking their progress over eight years of insane abuse over the color of brown. This is fucking insane that I cannot be allowed to take a crap without being fucked with and rendered into a screaming wreck.
1855h
Dinner was duly made and eaten, and at least three rage-ifications over food flicking, crumb inundation and water flicking onto my jeans of no conventional means. The games have escalated in the past two months to screw me around while dealing with their messes and the like. The crumbs that hop off the cleaning sponge after being picked up is one example, or just won't plain get picked up any more with a wetted sponge when they always did. Also, many more crumbs just arrive from nowhere on my plate these days, all for them to have me obsessively pick them up with my finger tips, assuming they don't hop off.
And dinner was arranged to follow on from the laundry, after handling and putting the towels away. Morning time laundering was nearly always like that, finishing laundry handling and then it was lunch time. It is rare that they have me do laundry in the afternoon, especially two sessions. And it seems they wanted the laundry machines to be vacated for an hour or so until they started the shit games mentioned above.
A dull evening, but I see that the sky to the E. is unclouded, but to the W. it is, all to reduce the intensity of the dusk onset sunlight and the faux reflectance off W. facing residential towers that "happen" to beam right into this apartment. And I see the games have just begun with an upward facing window shoot a beam in here.
2020h
Post tea time with chocolate; at least one screaming at the assholes when they rotated the round Bodum tea pot 180 degrees after it was placed in the dishes rack after cleaning. The asshole cannot get enough abusive fuckery in when doing the dishes. The teapot didn't slowly roll, it was powered and then suddenly stopped. Fucking tiresome.
2215h
Last round of posting tonight; a tour through the many bookmarked sites I rarely visit as they don't change much over a week, my assigned notion of currency. No major insights or web site finds, as the profusion of BS remains problematical for me to sort out. The sickos did put on the clunking noises while reading about the Katyn war crimes. What I am allowed to read at length is highly governed it seems as they will dither my reading should I stray onto something else, and make it a pointless effort. Ditto for books I have, especially ones that cast some relevance onto my own circumstances, especially the state of the clinical and theological abuses in Quebec in the 1950's, when I lived there for two of my formative years.
This one is done for the day, and onto a FFF visit tomorrow night.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Coffee Blowout
1350h
A total rage-ification event earlier, after the 11 hour sleep and the 1000h get-up, absurdly late, and today, crimping my availible time so to disrupt my normal routine of a full frontal shave, and only my face. No big deal, but as this "happens" so rarely, it must be a big deal as they pulled off the same bullshit yesterday. Off to yoga, and lo, if they didn't start the negro stalkers again. A brown down coated Caucasian dude crosses my path some 15' away walking toward the incoming bus, and as I continued, a negro woman with a child in the stroller was coming toward me, and "happening" to pass by exactly where the dude just walked which was also at a pinch point of the sidewalk and over top of some rectangular steel manhole covers, possibly a transformer below. Another big brown moment for the fuckers it would seem.
Then at the next block, the negro woman who sometime attends the yoga class was there, stopping in mid sidewalk for me to pass her by while she was lighting up a cigarette. Then some games at the facility as the usual room was locked, and having the staff open it up when it has been faithfully opened in advance each week for two years now. I suppose it was so to have other yoga class members congregate away from the room. One of the irregular dudes came with this affected beret for crissakes, putting on the military aspect to a minor degree. Seeing that I was gangstalked by military Fuckwits every Thursday after yoga for eight months without let up, seeing the military garb in association with yoga isn't entirely welcome, but that is part of the TI traumatization re-enactment games mainly. The negro woman managed to stay for the whole class rather than being pulled (or leaving) early. Also, they kept her under dim lighting the last time, but somehow managed to increase the lighting when she was in the same place as last time. It is common for the sickos to place the Unfavored demographic group members in dim lit conditions to limit the total look of the Fuckwit, seeming to be visually parsing as to how much of an Unfavored I get to see at one time.
Then the usual street strangeness when I get out of yoga and walk the three blocks back to my place; the readcoat dudes were on show with red vehicles behind them, and culminating at the apartment entrance where they parked a truck in front of the door that was propped open by a red plastic bucket with white ceramic dinner plates in it. Not to mention that the customized box of the pickup truck was also in red steel and white plywood. Like I say, the biggest gangstalker event is when I go in and out of buildings, so it makes sense that they go all out and park a vehicle after driving it up on the sidewalk and curb and parking 4' in front of the entrance doors. Just another color combination to replicate the endless vehicles that I see which are backing up in my proximity; that is, red and white lights facing me.
And a screaming rage show over coffee making this morning. The assholes had coffee "erupt" from the Bodum coffe press, somehow bypassing the lid and blowing out over the pot, stovetop, stove front, stove oven handle and onto the floor. There was no causal event as they were playing their usual game of having the plunger be resistant, and taking extra effort and time to press down all of 1/4" or less by the time of the blowout. So no plunger action caused this coffee "eruption" and how did it get pass the lid in any event? Having had this done to me once before, it is plain gratuitous mess making by telporting some of the coffee and feigning an eruption on the side of the vessel. A fucking mess to clean up, and I am sure that the blue sponge to clean the mess up was as much as having me totally incensed over this insane and arbitrary abuse.
And I still haven't solved the mystery of the coffee ground crumbs that "arrive" in my cupboards, and on my dish drain mate and stove top as they are all bigger by far than the find powdered grind of the coffee that I use. The planted coffee ground mess in all its manifestations is made of a size of ground that I don't have, and never had, and yet this bullshit goes on for years. Likely to be related to the crumb games and the all important size parameter for them. I noticed that this morning's chocolate crumbs, which should never happen and never did, were separated with the light powdery flakey crumbs on the right side of the plate, and the larger rounded ones were on the left side of the plate. And of course, with the usual ones just "arriving" from nowhere, as they don't fall from the piece I have in hand, but appear from behind my hand, on the dinner plate. This insane abuse has gone on for over 7.5 years, and here they are fucking with crumbs, crumb sizes and crumb delivery, teleported or otherwise. I that doesn't epitomize the depth of the perp insanity and depravity, then nothing does.
And I see more organized fuckups are stil in progress; my employment counsellor whom I met last week and whom I gave my reciept to so she could make a copy and then fax it to the grant payout people "somehow" forgot (or didn't do it) because I get an email from the grant authority that he didn't get the fax one week later. So I leave a message with the employment counsellor and then don't hear back, which is totally unlike any of the past communications. I send her an email, and she still hasn't replied, again, totally out of character. So I will have to send the fax myself via another fax service. Talk about a totally insane jerkaround for no fucking reason, and then poisoning my experiences with the employment counsellor as to how reliable she is. What is all that bullshit about? Maybe I will find out once I head out to get the fax sent.
1720h
A big long stream of orchestrated events, the explanation afterward. To give it a context, the grant giving organization asked for my tuition reciept which I supplied through my employment counsellor last week Jan. 21, 2010. It was faxed to the grantor representative then, and my employment counsellor said she would phone him to make sure he got it. Then I get an email Jan. 27 saying he hadn't got it, so I phone my employment counsellor and no answer to my message. So today, I send her an email, again, no reply. So I go to a public fax center and send it but it was not fax number, so had to copy it and walk it there, a 10 minute exercise but no big deal. And the gangstalker nut showwas in full force so it was obvious that this was a set up, and they way it is meant to be. I get the negro woman act again, this time waiting on her in the office, but no big deal. When I get back to my apartment building last year's apartment manager is outside talking to the new manager, not a good sign. I get in the door and complain about this stunt, and my speech comes out garbled so I scream at the assholes for messing my speech. I start tea making by putting on the kettle, but while I am waiting I "happen" to see the Malteaser so I put a handful in my mouth. Then at that moment there is a knock on the door. It is the brown dressed UPS guy with the brown box, the assistant manager there too, and the latter explains that the UPS guy rang the bell, but it didn't work, but it worked for other apartments. (Not to forget the brown clown games; me with brown chocolate in my mouth, the UPS guy in dark brown, and the mid-brown cardboard box). He said to pull out the phone and then reconnect it to get it to work and he test it again from the front door intercom console. By this time, tea making has progressed and I have placed the full mug on the table and opening up the 100g chocolate bars and then the manager comes back just to say he tried to get me on the intercom, but a funny tone came on. As it so happens, the box that separates the intercom signals from the phone signals isn't working as the green flashing light has gone out. Which explains why all my parcels got hand delivered to my door, or that the post office gave me a notice that I wasn't home, where on one occasion I clearly was. Off to deal with the phone/cable outfit tomorrow.
2350h
Back to my Linux capers, and I am burning a DVD disc in my second attempt in five years and lo, if the software doesn't make it understandable this time. Then in mid burn, PC shuts down all by itself, presumably the disc is fucked as there is no persistent information as to what got copied and what didn't and how to recover. I start the PC again to burn the DVD and it finally works. Then I want to try to label it with the Lightscribe software, but nothing in the command set to execute it. It seems that either I need some special discs or the software is sabotaged. I download Lightscribe and the same thing; information all about it but no command to effect it. I pull the DVD out and give up on Lightscribe for good, another one of those fake-outs in my case, a promise by way of it being loaded but nothing there when attempting to use it. This has happened before, days before, as Partition Magic loaded the same way; various "niceties" but none of the display tools that I was familiar with that could effect partitioning. I loaded the CD again, and I got a new listing of Partition Magic that was dedicated for the very executable that I was looking for in the first place.
Then the disc checking of the past few days comes back on me as the DBA instructor mentioned tonight that the Partition Magic might be failing because of a bad sector on the disc, though I do tell him that the WD Software check found no errors. When back, I partition a different disc, and lo, if Partitition Magic works. Now, I am dealing with more ornery software to look at the disc surface, and it won't write to a log file. And it says it will take 134 hours to complete but I think it will be sooner than that. They also stopped me from downloading a different product before that, as it kept on coming back with the same display. Before that, I ran CHKDSK and there was no log file or summary of the result, and that was three hours of run time to find out nothing.
I other words, what is the fucking point of all this adversity over my hardware when it would of likely been fine in the first place if they hadn't fucked it? And then to load software up when the central executable is missing, and doing this twice (Partition Magic and Light Scribe), is fucking maddening. And I did scream at the assholes a few times for this extra obvious sabotage that is both protracted and replicated in a pattern.
Another pattern is having these long running diagnostic programs being launched in the late evening, serving as a reason to leave the PC and router and all the blinking lights on while I am sleeping. It must be too much fun for the sickos.
Enough dumbshit for today, and off to post this.
A total rage-ification event earlier, after the 11 hour sleep and the 1000h get-up, absurdly late, and today, crimping my availible time so to disrupt my normal routine of a full frontal shave, and only my face. No big deal, but as this "happens" so rarely, it must be a big deal as they pulled off the same bullshit yesterday. Off to yoga, and lo, if they didn't start the negro stalkers again. A brown down coated Caucasian dude crosses my path some 15' away walking toward the incoming bus, and as I continued, a negro woman with a child in the stroller was coming toward me, and "happening" to pass by exactly where the dude just walked which was also at a pinch point of the sidewalk and over top of some rectangular steel manhole covers, possibly a transformer below. Another big brown moment for the fuckers it would seem.
Then at the next block, the negro woman who sometime attends the yoga class was there, stopping in mid sidewalk for me to pass her by while she was lighting up a cigarette. Then some games at the facility as the usual room was locked, and having the staff open it up when it has been faithfully opened in advance each week for two years now. I suppose it was so to have other yoga class members congregate away from the room. One of the irregular dudes came with this affected beret for crissakes, putting on the military aspect to a minor degree. Seeing that I was gangstalked by military Fuckwits every Thursday after yoga for eight months without let up, seeing the military garb in association with yoga isn't entirely welcome, but that is part of the TI traumatization re-enactment games mainly. The negro woman managed to stay for the whole class rather than being pulled (or leaving) early. Also, they kept her under dim lighting the last time, but somehow managed to increase the lighting when she was in the same place as last time. It is common for the sickos to place the Unfavored demographic group members in dim lit conditions to limit the total look of the Fuckwit, seeming to be visually parsing as to how much of an Unfavored I get to see at one time.
Then the usual street strangeness when I get out of yoga and walk the three blocks back to my place; the readcoat dudes were on show with red vehicles behind them, and culminating at the apartment entrance where they parked a truck in front of the door that was propped open by a red plastic bucket with white ceramic dinner plates in it. Not to mention that the customized box of the pickup truck was also in red steel and white plywood. Like I say, the biggest gangstalker event is when I go in and out of buildings, so it makes sense that they go all out and park a vehicle after driving it up on the sidewalk and curb and parking 4' in front of the entrance doors. Just another color combination to replicate the endless vehicles that I see which are backing up in my proximity; that is, red and white lights facing me.
And a screaming rage show over coffee making this morning. The assholes had coffee "erupt" from the Bodum coffe press, somehow bypassing the lid and blowing out over the pot, stovetop, stove front, stove oven handle and onto the floor. There was no causal event as they were playing their usual game of having the plunger be resistant, and taking extra effort and time to press down all of 1/4" or less by the time of the blowout. So no plunger action caused this coffee "eruption" and how did it get pass the lid in any event? Having had this done to me once before, it is plain gratuitous mess making by telporting some of the coffee and feigning an eruption on the side of the vessel. A fucking mess to clean up, and I am sure that the blue sponge to clean the mess up was as much as having me totally incensed over this insane and arbitrary abuse.
And I still haven't solved the mystery of the coffee ground crumbs that "arrive" in my cupboards, and on my dish drain mate and stove top as they are all bigger by far than the find powdered grind of the coffee that I use. The planted coffee ground mess in all its manifestations is made of a size of ground that I don't have, and never had, and yet this bullshit goes on for years. Likely to be related to the crumb games and the all important size parameter for them. I noticed that this morning's chocolate crumbs, which should never happen and never did, were separated with the light powdery flakey crumbs on the right side of the plate, and the larger rounded ones were on the left side of the plate. And of course, with the usual ones just "arriving" from nowhere, as they don't fall from the piece I have in hand, but appear from behind my hand, on the dinner plate. This insane abuse has gone on for over 7.5 years, and here they are fucking with crumbs, crumb sizes and crumb delivery, teleported or otherwise. I that doesn't epitomize the depth of the perp insanity and depravity, then nothing does.
And I see more organized fuckups are stil in progress; my employment counsellor whom I met last week and whom I gave my reciept to so she could make a copy and then fax it to the grant payout people "somehow" forgot (or didn't do it) because I get an email from the grant authority that he didn't get the fax one week later. So I leave a message with the employment counsellor and then don't hear back, which is totally unlike any of the past communications. I send her an email, and she still hasn't replied, again, totally out of character. So I will have to send the fax myself via another fax service. Talk about a totally insane jerkaround for no fucking reason, and then poisoning my experiences with the employment counsellor as to how reliable she is. What is all that bullshit about? Maybe I will find out once I head out to get the fax sent.
1720h
A big long stream of orchestrated events, the explanation afterward. To give it a context, the grant giving organization asked for my tuition reciept which I supplied through my employment counsellor last week Jan. 21, 2010. It was faxed to the grantor representative then, and my employment counsellor said she would phone him to make sure he got it. Then I get an email Jan. 27 saying he hadn't got it, so I phone my employment counsellor and no answer to my message. So today, I send her an email, again, no reply. So I go to a public fax center and send it but it was not fax number, so had to copy it and walk it there, a 10 minute exercise but no big deal. And the gangstalker nut showwas in full force so it was obvious that this was a set up, and they way it is meant to be. I get the negro woman act again, this time waiting on her in the office, but no big deal. When I get back to my apartment building last year's apartment manager is outside talking to the new manager, not a good sign. I get in the door and complain about this stunt, and my speech comes out garbled so I scream at the assholes for messing my speech. I start tea making by putting on the kettle, but while I am waiting I "happen" to see the Malteaser so I put a handful in my mouth. Then at that moment there is a knock on the door. It is the brown dressed UPS guy with the brown box, the assistant manager there too, and the latter explains that the UPS guy rang the bell, but it didn't work, but it worked for other apartments. (Not to forget the brown clown games; me with brown chocolate in my mouth, the UPS guy in dark brown, and the mid-brown cardboard box). He said to pull out the phone and then reconnect it to get it to work and he test it again from the front door intercom console. By this time, tea making has progressed and I have placed the full mug on the table and opening up the 100g chocolate bars and then the manager comes back just to say he tried to get me on the intercom, but a funny tone came on. As it so happens, the box that separates the intercom signals from the phone signals isn't working as the green flashing light has gone out. Which explains why all my parcels got hand delivered to my door, or that the post office gave me a notice that I wasn't home, where on one occasion I clearly was. Off to deal with the phone/cable outfit tomorrow.
2350h
Back to my Linux capers, and I am burning a DVD disc in my second attempt in five years and lo, if the software doesn't make it understandable this time. Then in mid burn, PC shuts down all by itself, presumably the disc is fucked as there is no persistent information as to what got copied and what didn't and how to recover. I start the PC again to burn the DVD and it finally works. Then I want to try to label it with the Lightscribe software, but nothing in the command set to execute it. It seems that either I need some special discs or the software is sabotaged. I download Lightscribe and the same thing; information all about it but no command to effect it. I pull the DVD out and give up on Lightscribe for good, another one of those fake-outs in my case, a promise by way of it being loaded but nothing there when attempting to use it. This has happened before, days before, as Partition Magic loaded the same way; various "niceties" but none of the display tools that I was familiar with that could effect partitioning. I loaded the CD again, and I got a new listing of Partition Magic that was dedicated for the very executable that I was looking for in the first place.
Then the disc checking of the past few days comes back on me as the DBA instructor mentioned tonight that the Partition Magic might be failing because of a bad sector on the disc, though I do tell him that the WD Software check found no errors. When back, I partition a different disc, and lo, if Partitition Magic works. Now, I am dealing with more ornery software to look at the disc surface, and it won't write to a log file. And it says it will take 134 hours to complete but I think it will be sooner than that. They also stopped me from downloading a different product before that, as it kept on coming back with the same display. Before that, I ran CHKDSK and there was no log file or summary of the result, and that was three hours of run time to find out nothing.
I other words, what is the fucking point of all this adversity over my hardware when it would of likely been fine in the first place if they hadn't fucked it? And then to load software up when the central executable is missing, and doing this twice (Partition Magic and Light Scribe), is fucking maddening. And I did scream at the assholes a few times for this extra obvious sabotage that is both protracted and replicated in a pattern.
Another pattern is having these long running diagnostic programs being launched in the late evening, serving as a reason to leave the PC and router and all the blinking lights on while I am sleeping. It must be too much fun for the sickos.
Enough dumbshit for today, and off to post this.
Monday, August 03, 2009
Milled Flaxseed Crumb Fucking Blues
1235h
That was too easy; "finding" milled flaxseed in the supermarket and then purchasing it to resume my diet of some three years ago when I could find it at other stores, enabled by vehicle access. And so this new brand, organic and all, "happens" to behave totally differently in the cereal bowl, as if charged with static electricity and sticking to the spoon or bowl in great quantity. It can even defeat being rinsed out, twice in fact, and can even stick to the bowl after vigorous scrubbing with the dish cleaning brush, the last remnants removed by hand. So..., given that this is totally strange behavior compared to the last brand of flaxseed, and there is no lessening of this insane crumb fest idiocy, the flaxseed gets chucked, a near pound of it, all to reduce the hassle level, and more to the point, serve as a three day test of flaxseed ingestion after a three year washout of not eating it. And it fits the pattern of incremental dietary changes, seeming to fit the usual jerkaround patterns, starting small, building up, and if intractable, then stop the diet change. In other words, no sustained major diet changes are allowed unless all energetic parameters are 100% modelled. A tall order never bothered the sickos, and that means seven years of impositional life rape at every moment of one's existence.
The perps are on a crumb fucking tear of late, and it seems they cannot give this one up, now testing smaller crumbs of the milled flaxseed. Expect a repeat in a year or so, as the digestion of essential fatty acids is a big deal for the perps, and they don't yet understand it all; hence these abortive jerkarounds of it becoming too much of a crumb hassle, at odds with other brands of the same commodity.
2200h
I did the Fisrt Feral Family dinner, and the same ass-backwards invitation of my in-town brother was my doing this time. For the second Family dinner at the house, they "forgot" to invite my in-town brother. It was me who answered the phone, and he asked me about dinner and I said it was in an hour, and he asked if it was OK to come. I had no knowledge of prior discussions, and I wasn't putting on the dinner, but I did find it odious that he wasn't invited (it seemed), and that he should come. My mother made out that she didn't invite him due to an oversight, but mentioned that there was plenty of food to go around. This is nearly identical to two nights ago when, again apparently, he happened to phone at the right time and was invited only then. In both instances he gave me a ride home as I had to take the city bus freakshow to the First Feral Family home. My out-of-town brother is visiting with his wife and child for those who aren't up on the scripted flux that is my existence.
While waiting for dinner to cook, there was an outing to the wine store with my in-town brother and this large woman in black seemed to be loitering where I, or my brother had been, and after a few minutes she exited. She had the look of someone I know, but of a much larger size. And the reds were out once we exited the wine store together; two parked red colored vehicles each side of his vehicle, another one in front of his vehicle, and once closer, another red vehicle in motion and a copper colored vehicle two stalls away. That is seven red vehicles (if copper is counted, not sure about that as I wasn't inundated with this color before), in one glance, and I think the record for arranged red colored gangstalker vehicles is nine. Plus, there was two horizontal 8' long red plastic bumpers for the shopping cart rack in the center of this red nexus. My brother put on that he wasn't fazed in any way, it was "normal". Only in Fuckover land can that considered to be normal. I even asked my doctor once if he would find four same red colored vehicles packed around his in traffic, and he said he would. Sometimes us TI's need to be reminded that our instincts and knowledge is still our own and not subverted in any way. (Though it can be, as the perps first learned to fuck with my perception of normality in 2006-7).
Anyhow, the same deal with First Feral Family dinners; put them on two hours late while starving the victim (TI, me) some more. In the meantime, my out-of-town brother insisted I listen to his Moody Blues at the Isle of Wight DVD at one end of the living room, while at the other end, my in-town brother was regaling my mother and sister-in-law with his pseudo-romance tales, and my niece was also on her own conversational track. Three competing sources of conversation simultaneously, and nothing new to me, having me (more like, making me) flit from one to the other, depending which was the most interesting. Then at the dinner table a similar muti-thread conversation was in place, just with me at more the center of it, flitting from one parallel track to the other depending on who asked what questions. I was assigned this rather unconventional rambling delivery, and having the words accessible (for once), and tripping off my tongue. I had three glasses of wine with dinner, but I am quite sure it was my puppet masters still in charge, and keeping me in this multi-track conversation. Along the way, my out-of-town brother pontificated about software systems building, saying that Geographic Information Systems (GIS) is over saturated with development personnel and was inferior to database design skills. Decoded, in order; WTF does he know about software development hiring as there has been many such GIS jobs advertised in the past 10 months of looking. Another possible decode is that he is supplying the perps' scripted outlook for me for the next 4 months, especially with respect to the GIS courses I was planning to take in the evening, should I get a grant. He declared (more like, supplied the scripted delivery) that database jobs had much more potential and that his business still needs a maintenance person, and that one could work from home. Perhaps the "work from home" phrase was another hint, though I don't see how it fits when I haven't actively worked in the field for seven imposed years. Given the seeming overcautiousness/reluctance of hiring personnel when it comes to me, I find it difficult to take the latter as a hint, as recent and relevant experience is another barrier the hiring personnel like to raise. IN other words, only the better software personnel work best at home, but still require some serious up-front interaction on any given project before they can work off site. Or, at least, that is my view, as too many past software projects have gone off the rails with "at home" personnel. Anyhow, it is all very circuitous, especially when he is talking through his hat. Though, last September when visiting, he slammed construction laborer jobs as being too physically punishing, and this was when the perps had me pumped up to get such work due to what the fellow daffodil bulb laborers were telling me. (And, I had bought $200 worth of clothing at his store to get myself readied for a construction laborer job that never materialized because no one would phone me back.) Read the bullshit as if it were real, or discard it? The recent grant application jerkaround suggests taking the first route to evening courses this fall and into spring.
And interesting is that the grant jerkaround was July 31, the Friday when my out-of-town brother and family arrived later it the day, timed to making it topical for dinnertime tonight. And it did seem like such a gimme lead-in when the topic was first broached by my brother. One has to play the play it seems.
Time to call this done, and hit the hay. The illicit affair blogs were of interest tonight, especially ones from the female perspective. Given the perps' consuming interest in sex, that is, for me to read about or view, perhaps the written word is their incremental introduction approach they have arranged for me this time around. For some five months in 2001 they had me on this 4 hour/night uncharacteristic porn voyeur streak, and since the apartment invasion, they have me uninterested in porn or nudity, which is the way I prefer it.
That was too easy; "finding" milled flaxseed in the supermarket and then purchasing it to resume my diet of some three years ago when I could find it at other stores, enabled by vehicle access. And so this new brand, organic and all, "happens" to behave totally differently in the cereal bowl, as if charged with static electricity and sticking to the spoon or bowl in great quantity. It can even defeat being rinsed out, twice in fact, and can even stick to the bowl after vigorous scrubbing with the dish cleaning brush, the last remnants removed by hand. So..., given that this is totally strange behavior compared to the last brand of flaxseed, and there is no lessening of this insane crumb fest idiocy, the flaxseed gets chucked, a near pound of it, all to reduce the hassle level, and more to the point, serve as a three day test of flaxseed ingestion after a three year washout of not eating it. And it fits the pattern of incremental dietary changes, seeming to fit the usual jerkaround patterns, starting small, building up, and if intractable, then stop the diet change. In other words, no sustained major diet changes are allowed unless all energetic parameters are 100% modelled. A tall order never bothered the sickos, and that means seven years of impositional life rape at every moment of one's existence.
The perps are on a crumb fucking tear of late, and it seems they cannot give this one up, now testing smaller crumbs of the milled flaxseed. Expect a repeat in a year or so, as the digestion of essential fatty acids is a big deal for the perps, and they don't yet understand it all; hence these abortive jerkarounds of it becoming too much of a crumb hassle, at odds with other brands of the same commodity.
2200h
I did the Fisrt Feral Family dinner, and the same ass-backwards invitation of my in-town brother was my doing this time. For the second Family dinner at the house, they "forgot" to invite my in-town brother. It was me who answered the phone, and he asked me about dinner and I said it was in an hour, and he asked if it was OK to come. I had no knowledge of prior discussions, and I wasn't putting on the dinner, but I did find it odious that he wasn't invited (it seemed), and that he should come. My mother made out that she didn't invite him due to an oversight, but mentioned that there was plenty of food to go around. This is nearly identical to two nights ago when, again apparently, he happened to phone at the right time and was invited only then. In both instances he gave me a ride home as I had to take the city bus freakshow to the First Feral Family home. My out-of-town brother is visiting with his wife and child for those who aren't up on the scripted flux that is my existence.
While waiting for dinner to cook, there was an outing to the wine store with my in-town brother and this large woman in black seemed to be loitering where I, or my brother had been, and after a few minutes she exited. She had the look of someone I know, but of a much larger size. And the reds were out once we exited the wine store together; two parked red colored vehicles each side of his vehicle, another one in front of his vehicle, and once closer, another red vehicle in motion and a copper colored vehicle two stalls away. That is seven red vehicles (if copper is counted, not sure about that as I wasn't inundated with this color before), in one glance, and I think the record for arranged red colored gangstalker vehicles is nine. Plus, there was two horizontal 8' long red plastic bumpers for the shopping cart rack in the center of this red nexus. My brother put on that he wasn't fazed in any way, it was "normal". Only in Fuckover land can that considered to be normal. I even asked my doctor once if he would find four same red colored vehicles packed around his in traffic, and he said he would. Sometimes us TI's need to be reminded that our instincts and knowledge is still our own and not subverted in any way. (Though it can be, as the perps first learned to fuck with my perception of normality in 2006-7).
Anyhow, the same deal with First Feral Family dinners; put them on two hours late while starving the victim (TI, me) some more. In the meantime, my out-of-town brother insisted I listen to his Moody Blues at the Isle of Wight DVD at one end of the living room, while at the other end, my in-town brother was regaling my mother and sister-in-law with his pseudo-romance tales, and my niece was also on her own conversational track. Three competing sources of conversation simultaneously, and nothing new to me, having me (more like, making me) flit from one to the other, depending which was the most interesting. Then at the dinner table a similar muti-thread conversation was in place, just with me at more the center of it, flitting from one parallel track to the other depending on who asked what questions. I was assigned this rather unconventional rambling delivery, and having the words accessible (for once), and tripping off my tongue. I had three glasses of wine with dinner, but I am quite sure it was my puppet masters still in charge, and keeping me in this multi-track conversation. Along the way, my out-of-town brother pontificated about software systems building, saying that Geographic Information Systems (GIS) is over saturated with development personnel and was inferior to database design skills. Decoded, in order; WTF does he know about software development hiring as there has been many such GIS jobs advertised in the past 10 months of looking. Another possible decode is that he is supplying the perps' scripted outlook for me for the next 4 months, especially with respect to the GIS courses I was planning to take in the evening, should I get a grant. He declared (more like, supplied the scripted delivery) that database jobs had much more potential and that his business still needs a maintenance person, and that one could work from home. Perhaps the "work from home" phrase was another hint, though I don't see how it fits when I haven't actively worked in the field for seven imposed years. Given the seeming overcautiousness/reluctance of hiring personnel when it comes to me, I find it difficult to take the latter as a hint, as recent and relevant experience is another barrier the hiring personnel like to raise. IN other words, only the better software personnel work best at home, but still require some serious up-front interaction on any given project before they can work off site. Or, at least, that is my view, as too many past software projects have gone off the rails with "at home" personnel. Anyhow, it is all very circuitous, especially when he is talking through his hat. Though, last September when visiting, he slammed construction laborer jobs as being too physically punishing, and this was when the perps had me pumped up to get such work due to what the fellow daffodil bulb laborers were telling me. (And, I had bought $200 worth of clothing at his store to get myself readied for a construction laborer job that never materialized because no one would phone me back.) Read the bullshit as if it were real, or discard it? The recent grant application jerkaround suggests taking the first route to evening courses this fall and into spring.
And interesting is that the grant jerkaround was July 31, the Friday when my out-of-town brother and family arrived later it the day, timed to making it topical for dinnertime tonight. And it did seem like such a gimme lead-in when the topic was first broached by my brother. One has to play the play it seems.
Time to call this done, and hit the hay. The illicit affair blogs were of interest tonight, especially ones from the female perspective. Given the perps' consuming interest in sex, that is, for me to read about or view, perhaps the written word is their incremental introduction approach they have arranged for me this time around. For some five months in 2001 they had me on this 4 hour/night uncharacteristic porn voyeur streak, and since the apartment invasion, they have me uninterested in porn or nudity, which is the way I prefer it.
Saturday, August 01, 2009
Pitched Crumb Battles
1250h
I am getting a number of reboots, "self erupting", of my Yahoo mail, so time to start the daily list of adverse travails delivered by the relentless and insane tormentors. I know, seven years of life rape, and they are still pissing around with crumbs, and the faux crumbs that are really divots in the laminate counter and a new one on the oven handle (white, with a black divot in it).
The latest escalation in this tedious and ongoing skirmish over crumbs is the re-introduction of milled flaxseed into my breakfast diet. Back in 2006 when I gave up my vehicle, I also reduced my food sources to the local supermarket that has now served me in three residence locations. One of the items that couldn't be found was milled flaxseed, no big deal as I also add a tablespoon full of hemp seed (legal here) to my cereal. As it so happened, I "found" flaxseed when I was getting skunked on finding baking soda for the second time, and have begun adding it back into my breakfast cereal. Well, it is like no other flaxseed as it won't float free in the cereal bowl, but gets "stuck" on the bowl. Routine practice after eating cereal is to rinse the bowl out in advance of doing the dishes, but the new flaxseed particles won't lift off but stays stuck in a facade of some 100 or more small "crumbs" on the bowl surface. (Too many to individually chase down). Then when the cereal bowl is cleaned in soapy water with the other dishes, there are flaxseed crumbs still remaining after I scrub it extra hard, and even at that, the last few need to be manually removed after rinsing. What was formerly a no-problem food item has now become the lead jerkaround/escalation over the crumb fucking games the perps put me through each day.
The flaxseed crumbs are of a fine nature, and more than even the ground coffee crumbs which mysteriously erupt on the stove top (adjacent to making coffee), and those that also erupt on the drain mat after the dishes have dried. There is also a mysterious crumb accumulation in one of the cupboards where I keep the olive oil, and after getting jerked around with crumb games, (they somehow resist being carried down the drain with flowing water), I cleaned this dry crumb mess up. As soon as I did, an eruption of outside road noise, heavy duty vehicles and Harley motorcycles came on as I cleaned up this cupboard crumb mess that slowly accretes over months. They even showed me one of these crumbs teleporting in a few days ago, as if I didn't know how they got there, as there is nothing nearby that could create the spillage.
And the coup de gras of the crumb games is to create a spill on the counter near on of the crumb-like divots in the laminate counter, and then jerk me around into "thinking" the divot is a crumb, and an additional crumb is a divot. This dumbshit event (been there, done that) was duly accomplished by them flicking some of the ground coffee when making coffee from the spoonful onto the counter, and then having me clean it up with the kitchen sponge. There were three locations in fact; the crumb-divot area on the counter, and two on the white enamel stove top, one being a regular crumb deposition site. I never had any problem differentiating between the real crumbs and the faux crumb divots in the past, and all of a sudden such a misperception erupts as part of this arranged crumb confusion game. And what clinical explanation for that transitory event is there? And now that the sirens are going as I type this up, getting through my earmuffs no less, one can be sure this entire dissertation on fucking crumbs is of more interest to my tormentors than it is to me.
And more of the First Feral Family doings have unfolded today. My out-of-town brother, wife and child arrived yesterday afternoon, and no call from them. Then a call from my mother around noon time saying they are going out later to visit my father at the old folks home, and could I take the bus out later in the afternoon for family dinner? Fucking bizarre that is; no one phones for nearly 20 hours after their arrival, and then a request to later take the fucking city bus (freakshow), on a Saturday no less, when the bus schedule is much more sparse. The fact that I will be packing a bottle of wine from last September's excursion to the Okanagan maybe part of the perp excitement; having it take a longer duration journey to the First Feral Family than via getting picked up. The plan may change, but it all sounds so fucking hokey and exclusionary. I suspect they all go to to rehearsals for the scripted mind-fuck show that will be the First Feral Family dinner, hence this long familiar pattern of ignoring me for the first day when my out-of-town brother and family arrives.
Other jerkaround action today is to keep a mild smell of damp mildewy clothing up my nose, at least once every five minutes or more, and continuously for the past few hours. The window is open, and there is nothing that would be such a conventional smell source, as I am so fastidious about smell abatement and anything else that could be deemed as an excuse for olfactory perturbations. I am also getting the overhead rumbling noise through the earmuffs as I type this up, the 12" of concrete of the above ceiling/floor somehow can be selectively rumbled overhead, and can even be relocated to the kitchen or dining table if I am there.
So it looks to be a dull shut-in day until I take the city bus out to the First Feral Family dinner as mentioned above. Somehow, I "forgot" to cash my paycheck this morning from the cleaning job last night, and it is still in my wallet. I suppose the perps might be dithering me so I end up cashing two paychecks together; the strangely delayed one from berry picking and the one I presently have. It is very common that similar activities are combined into one visitation event, in this case to the ATM. The perps like to create events where there is more repitition and quantity of the same activity. In this way, they can better deduce what neural activities are consistent, and what are situational and dependent on the paycheck source, paycheck color and the rest of the minutae of variables they find so fascinating, and need to manipulate.
Other perp action today has been to add plasma beams, often of red hues, to sit over the keyboard, be displayed over the LCD screen I am using as I type, and in my peripherial vision where they first like to test these various colors and perturbations. They even had a red plasma beam in my shoe last night as I took off my socks, and before the sock was placed in it. (Where I keep socks if used but not needing laundering). It was accompanied by a red plasma flash beforehand, over my jeans, and another one afterward, somewhere in the room. Normally the perps put on a blue plasma display from dark corners and other locations, so it was most odd to see red plasma lighting up the inside of my shoe.
And a new jerkaround to go with eating blueberries. While eating the blueberries, and in my mouth, they will partially open my lips and then have a blueberry squirt out its juice some 10" or so, even if my teeth aren't bearing down on a blueberry at that particular moment. I suspect that the perps' mouth contents squirting games will intensify because eating food, in all its textures, colors and dynamic nature, is something the perps cannot get a handle on. This is evidenced by the many ambulatory gangstalkers with their mouth contents exposed, eating food, spitting or otherwise facilitating mouth access in my proximity. The all time dumbshit stunt of this type was having a trail of barf in mid-day on the sidewalk that went on for 300' or so, culminating at a queasy looking native Indian stretched out on a bench seat. So yes, mouth contents, only being a 1/2" away from one's brain, the focus of realtime remote study, is an exceedingly intractable study area the perps have not yet fully modelled, and thereby expedite their mind-fuck research/abuse games.
Taken 06-23-2009, 1836h. Some intersection action, this time blue color games with red and brown vehicles on the side. The street passing from left to right has two deep red vehicles with a two-tone light brown pickup between them, a parked deep brown Volvo 244, and a silver-grey parked vehicle, usually as a reference. And then, on the street on the left, passing from the foreground to the top of the frame, there is a cluster of blue vehicles, possibly using the blue awning as a reference. There are three mid-tone blue vehicles on the left side of this street section; two are alternately parked with two silver-grey vehicles in file, and the third mid-tone blue vehicle in motion with a light metallic blue vehicle preceding it, ready to make a right turn.
A close up the light metallic blue mini-van making a right turn, and the above mentioned alternate alignment of the mid-blue parked vehicles with silver-grey vehicles (two of each), and the mid-blue vehicle approaching the stopline, maybe stopped.
But we need to add more blue from the other direction, said the torment-master, and so it was thus that a mid-blue vehicle came from the left side and is passing in front of the three same color blue vehicles (two parked, one is stopped), and too, we need a grey-scale reference, and so one from the opposite direction was arranged to cross paths in the center of the intersection. The orthogonal deep metallic red vehicles parked also seem to serve as some kind of red reference as part of this decidedly more complex confluence of blues, silver-greys and reds, with some earlier brown vehicle action. Another light metallic blue and a silver-grey pair (a Volvo 245 like I owned for 15 years) are parked left-most, likely as a fixed reference in the orthogonal direction for the light metallic blue vehicle that took the corner, shown above.
And a final silver-grey vehicle to pass straight through the intersection, with another vehicle in the opposite direction, hidden by the tree (seems to be a white vehicle, or silver-grey, both greyscale colors by the definition I use). And a final Fuckwit in dark blue jeans and white gets to take the corner with his bicycle. No wonder I don't stand out too long when taking photos as the arrangements keep coming on.
That should be a wrap for this rather dull shut-in day, getting me primed for a later First Feral Family dinner tonight, city bus freakshow mandatory. The perps like to keep me in and then go out late in the day, hence the now-former part time eveningtime cleaning job at a local car dealership. These same patterns keep emerging, and I am always open to hear about other patterns readers may detect in these postings.
2015h
I took the city bus to the First Feral Family home, and my sister-in-law and daughter were there. My brother and mother were still out. Later they arrived, but the entire dinner was straight out of the perp's playbook; delay it by 1.5 hours to increase the hunger level, save for the child who eats first while watching TV, and even gets to throw some of the food around the living room. (Aged 4). Resident freaks on the city bus trip were a blondified male with tattoos on his bare arms, a very large woman in red, and a woman who came on with the same color of top that I was wearing, a powder blue. The freak count was on the low side for a city bus trip, but as this is a long weekend, perhaps the perp fuckover games are also muted.
I sensed the exchange between brother and sister-in-law was on the testy side, and it seems there isn't the cooperation there was, but more of a mutal challenge between them. I wonder if the perps govern their relationship, or at least monitor it. It seems clear that the perps don't do anything to help them, but to leave things as they are, even if on a downward trajectory. It is all too curious, and too, it could be faked just for me. I haven't figured this one out yet; for them, or for other relationships among the First Feral Family.
Anyhow, I did some gardening work, ensuring the composts were kept watered, which might have been all part of the script as the perps are totally beserk about composting. Ms. C of the story did a Master Composter course as part of her gardening schtick, which seemed to have represented a genuine interest at the time. Anyhow, I get plenty of elevated noisestalking when attending to compost piles, be it re-digging them or otherwise tending to their construction or maturation. That included aircraft noise tonight; at least five flyovers while attending to the compost and reading the newspaper outside, some 40 minutes in all. One flyover was totally out of sync; helicopter noise with a jet aircraft above. It is time this dumbshit bullshit ended.
Other dumbshit bullshit was getting a ride from myh in-town-brother back to my place; he made out he forget his cell phone and then did a U-turn to head back and lo, if he didn't remember within a minute or so that he had the cell phone in his pocket and reversed yet again. I told him he didn't have to change the route the second time as he was still pointed in a direction that took me back to my place. I got a blow-off excuse as to why he did this, and then I mentioned that this was the identical move that the fucking gangstalkers pull on me all the time, and why he found it so fucking funny. From then on, all I got from him was diversionary talk about his garage sale exploits, and then later his interest in relationships, with me doing most of the talking about unilateral reneging on implicit agreements. I had enough about that bullshit, and it seemed that we had the same complaint about spouses; taking us sideways without involving the other party in a decision reversal. Funny how I keep "finding" the same behaviour pattern, Ms. C and the ex as one example.
A restless feet episode means I will have to cease blogging for awhile.
I am getting a number of reboots, "self erupting", of my Yahoo mail, so time to start the daily list of adverse travails delivered by the relentless and insane tormentors. I know, seven years of life rape, and they are still pissing around with crumbs, and the faux crumbs that are really divots in the laminate counter and a new one on the oven handle (white, with a black divot in it).
The latest escalation in this tedious and ongoing skirmish over crumbs is the re-introduction of milled flaxseed into my breakfast diet. Back in 2006 when I gave up my vehicle, I also reduced my food sources to the local supermarket that has now served me in three residence locations. One of the items that couldn't be found was milled flaxseed, no big deal as I also add a tablespoon full of hemp seed (legal here) to my cereal. As it so happened, I "found" flaxseed when I was getting skunked on finding baking soda for the second time, and have begun adding it back into my breakfast cereal. Well, it is like no other flaxseed as it won't float free in the cereal bowl, but gets "stuck" on the bowl. Routine practice after eating cereal is to rinse the bowl out in advance of doing the dishes, but the new flaxseed particles won't lift off but stays stuck in a facade of some 100 or more small "crumbs" on the bowl surface. (Too many to individually chase down). Then when the cereal bowl is cleaned in soapy water with the other dishes, there are flaxseed crumbs still remaining after I scrub it extra hard, and even at that, the last few need to be manually removed after rinsing. What was formerly a no-problem food item has now become the lead jerkaround/escalation over the crumb fucking games the perps put me through each day.
The flaxseed crumbs are of a fine nature, and more than even the ground coffee crumbs which mysteriously erupt on the stove top (adjacent to making coffee), and those that also erupt on the drain mat after the dishes have dried. There is also a mysterious crumb accumulation in one of the cupboards where I keep the olive oil, and after getting jerked around with crumb games, (they somehow resist being carried down the drain with flowing water), I cleaned this dry crumb mess up. As soon as I did, an eruption of outside road noise, heavy duty vehicles and Harley motorcycles came on as I cleaned up this cupboard crumb mess that slowly accretes over months. They even showed me one of these crumbs teleporting in a few days ago, as if I didn't know how they got there, as there is nothing nearby that could create the spillage.
And the coup de gras of the crumb games is to create a spill on the counter near on of the crumb-like divots in the laminate counter, and then jerk me around into "thinking" the divot is a crumb, and an additional crumb is a divot. This dumbshit event (been there, done that) was duly accomplished by them flicking some of the ground coffee when making coffee from the spoonful onto the counter, and then having me clean it up with the kitchen sponge. There were three locations in fact; the crumb-divot area on the counter, and two on the white enamel stove top, one being a regular crumb deposition site. I never had any problem differentiating between the real crumbs and the faux crumb divots in the past, and all of a sudden such a misperception erupts as part of this arranged crumb confusion game. And what clinical explanation for that transitory event is there? And now that the sirens are going as I type this up, getting through my earmuffs no less, one can be sure this entire dissertation on fucking crumbs is of more interest to my tormentors than it is to me.
And more of the First Feral Family doings have unfolded today. My out-of-town brother, wife and child arrived yesterday afternoon, and no call from them. Then a call from my mother around noon time saying they are going out later to visit my father at the old folks home, and could I take the bus out later in the afternoon for family dinner? Fucking bizarre that is; no one phones for nearly 20 hours after their arrival, and then a request to later take the fucking city bus (freakshow), on a Saturday no less, when the bus schedule is much more sparse. The fact that I will be packing a bottle of wine from last September's excursion to the Okanagan maybe part of the perp excitement; having it take a longer duration journey to the First Feral Family than via getting picked up. The plan may change, but it all sounds so fucking hokey and exclusionary. I suspect they all go to to rehearsals for the scripted mind-fuck show that will be the First Feral Family dinner, hence this long familiar pattern of ignoring me for the first day when my out-of-town brother and family arrives.
Other jerkaround action today is to keep a mild smell of damp mildewy clothing up my nose, at least once every five minutes or more, and continuously for the past few hours. The window is open, and there is nothing that would be such a conventional smell source, as I am so fastidious about smell abatement and anything else that could be deemed as an excuse for olfactory perturbations. I am also getting the overhead rumbling noise through the earmuffs as I type this up, the 12" of concrete of the above ceiling/floor somehow can be selectively rumbled overhead, and can even be relocated to the kitchen or dining table if I am there.
So it looks to be a dull shut-in day until I take the city bus out to the First Feral Family dinner as mentioned above. Somehow, I "forgot" to cash my paycheck this morning from the cleaning job last night, and it is still in my wallet. I suppose the perps might be dithering me so I end up cashing two paychecks together; the strangely delayed one from berry picking and the one I presently have. It is very common that similar activities are combined into one visitation event, in this case to the ATM. The perps like to create events where there is more repitition and quantity of the same activity. In this way, they can better deduce what neural activities are consistent, and what are situational and dependent on the paycheck source, paycheck color and the rest of the minutae of variables they find so fascinating, and need to manipulate.
Other perp action today has been to add plasma beams, often of red hues, to sit over the keyboard, be displayed over the LCD screen I am using as I type, and in my peripherial vision where they first like to test these various colors and perturbations. They even had a red plasma beam in my shoe last night as I took off my socks, and before the sock was placed in it. (Where I keep socks if used but not needing laundering). It was accompanied by a red plasma flash beforehand, over my jeans, and another one afterward, somewhere in the room. Normally the perps put on a blue plasma display from dark corners and other locations, so it was most odd to see red plasma lighting up the inside of my shoe.
And a new jerkaround to go with eating blueberries. While eating the blueberries, and in my mouth, they will partially open my lips and then have a blueberry squirt out its juice some 10" or so, even if my teeth aren't bearing down on a blueberry at that particular moment. I suspect that the perps' mouth contents squirting games will intensify because eating food, in all its textures, colors and dynamic nature, is something the perps cannot get a handle on. This is evidenced by the many ambulatory gangstalkers with their mouth contents exposed, eating food, spitting or otherwise facilitating mouth access in my proximity. The all time dumbshit stunt of this type was having a trail of barf in mid-day on the sidewalk that went on for 300' or so, culminating at a queasy looking native Indian stretched out on a bench seat. So yes, mouth contents, only being a 1/2" away from one's brain, the focus of realtime remote study, is an exceedingly intractable study area the perps have not yet fully modelled, and thereby expedite their mind-fuck research/abuse games.
Taken 06-23-2009, 1836h. Some intersection action, this time blue color games with red and brown vehicles on the side. The street passing from left to right has two deep red vehicles with a two-tone light brown pickup between them, a parked deep brown Volvo 244, and a silver-grey parked vehicle, usually as a reference. And then, on the street on the left, passing from the foreground to the top of the frame, there is a cluster of blue vehicles, possibly using the blue awning as a reference. There are three mid-tone blue vehicles on the left side of this street section; two are alternately parked with two silver-grey vehicles in file, and the third mid-tone blue vehicle in motion with a light metallic blue vehicle preceding it, ready to make a right turn.
A close up the light metallic blue mini-van making a right turn, and the above mentioned alternate alignment of the mid-blue parked vehicles with silver-grey vehicles (two of each), and the mid-blue vehicle approaching the stopline, maybe stopped.
But we need to add more blue from the other direction, said the torment-master, and so it was thus that a mid-blue vehicle came from the left side and is passing in front of the three same color blue vehicles (two parked, one is stopped), and too, we need a grey-scale reference, and so one from the opposite direction was arranged to cross paths in the center of the intersection. The orthogonal deep metallic red vehicles parked also seem to serve as some kind of red reference as part of this decidedly more complex confluence of blues, silver-greys and reds, with some earlier brown vehicle action. Another light metallic blue and a silver-grey pair (a Volvo 245 like I owned for 15 years) are parked left-most, likely as a fixed reference in the orthogonal direction for the light metallic blue vehicle that took the corner, shown above.
And a final silver-grey vehicle to pass straight through the intersection, with another vehicle in the opposite direction, hidden by the tree (seems to be a white vehicle, or silver-grey, both greyscale colors by the definition I use). And a final Fuckwit in dark blue jeans and white gets to take the corner with his bicycle. No wonder I don't stand out too long when taking photos as the arrangements keep coming on.
That should be a wrap for this rather dull shut-in day, getting me primed for a later First Feral Family dinner tonight, city bus freakshow mandatory. The perps like to keep me in and then go out late in the day, hence the now-former part time eveningtime cleaning job at a local car dealership. These same patterns keep emerging, and I am always open to hear about other patterns readers may detect in these postings.
2015h
I took the city bus to the First Feral Family home, and my sister-in-law and daughter were there. My brother and mother were still out. Later they arrived, but the entire dinner was straight out of the perp's playbook; delay it by 1.5 hours to increase the hunger level, save for the child who eats first while watching TV, and even gets to throw some of the food around the living room. (Aged 4). Resident freaks on the city bus trip were a blondified male with tattoos on his bare arms, a very large woman in red, and a woman who came on with the same color of top that I was wearing, a powder blue. The freak count was on the low side for a city bus trip, but as this is a long weekend, perhaps the perp fuckover games are also muted.
I sensed the exchange between brother and sister-in-law was on the testy side, and it seems there isn't the cooperation there was, but more of a mutal challenge between them. I wonder if the perps govern their relationship, or at least monitor it. It seems clear that the perps don't do anything to help them, but to leave things as they are, even if on a downward trajectory. It is all too curious, and too, it could be faked just for me. I haven't figured this one out yet; for them, or for other relationships among the First Feral Family.
Anyhow, I did some gardening work, ensuring the composts were kept watered, which might have been all part of the script as the perps are totally beserk about composting. Ms. C of the story did a Master Composter course as part of her gardening schtick, which seemed to have represented a genuine interest at the time. Anyhow, I get plenty of elevated noisestalking when attending to compost piles, be it re-digging them or otherwise tending to their construction or maturation. That included aircraft noise tonight; at least five flyovers while attending to the compost and reading the newspaper outside, some 40 minutes in all. One flyover was totally out of sync; helicopter noise with a jet aircraft above. It is time this dumbshit bullshit ended.
Other dumbshit bullshit was getting a ride from myh in-town-brother back to my place; he made out he forget his cell phone and then did a U-turn to head back and lo, if he didn't remember within a minute or so that he had the cell phone in his pocket and reversed yet again. I told him he didn't have to change the route the second time as he was still pointed in a direction that took me back to my place. I got a blow-off excuse as to why he did this, and then I mentioned that this was the identical move that the fucking gangstalkers pull on me all the time, and why he found it so fucking funny. From then on, all I got from him was diversionary talk about his garage sale exploits, and then later his interest in relationships, with me doing most of the talking about unilateral reneging on implicit agreements. I had enough about that bullshit, and it seemed that we had the same complaint about spouses; taking us sideways without involving the other party in a decision reversal. Funny how I keep "finding" the same behaviour pattern, Ms. C and the ex as one example.
A restless feet episode means I will have to cease blogging for awhile.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Noise Barrages
1040h
It isn't worth answering the phone these days as intensified noise campaigns erupt immediately afterward and run for some 50 minutes for far. And the said phone call from my perp-abetting brother was interupted by a sudden need to pee. So the sequence of fuckery was 1.5 hours of web surfing time, the phone call related to something he claims he cannot find on the internet about local incentives to scrap older vehicles, then the sudden "need" to pee breaking the phone call off, then the noise campaign started. After finishing peeing, I printed off a five page application form for him, replete with the printer doing never-before desk and LCD monitor shaking, even in vertical directions, accompanying door slamming, then the backup beepers started, overhead faint rumbling noise started up, faked outside heavy duty vehicles and the rest of the outside noise fuckery/din that immediately stops when I go to the window to look outside for the putative causes. There are none for the most part and then the noise subsides. And it should be noted that the door slamming in the hallway in this building is some trick when all doors have hydraulic hinges on them; it can't be done if one tried, and yet it erupts suddenly with at least a half dozen in a couple of minutes. Time to dump this websurfing habit it would seem as that is the big driver of the entire run of bullshit that followed.
The sickos had me rage-fied at breakfast again; faked touchings, food flying out of my mouth and into the coffee grounds in the coffee pot immediately before the hot water was added. I have never seen food flying so fast, accurately and with such a trajectory before, another new extra-conventional gravitic fuckery advance to which I am now apprised of. And also, I was treated to another new jerkaround when eating a portion of chocolate this morning. I put the remaining piece entirely into my mouth, and as I pulled my had away, an 1/8" size chocolate crumb arrived in my fingers as if it were a residual piece that somehow broke off. It didn't happen at my mouth, and it only afterward, hence a new crumb teleportation fuckery stunt. A busy morning, all these new heightened jerkarounds, as well as more text jumping all by itself while I am typing this out. Beserk times of late, and this week has been particulary ugly, and this is only day 3 so far, counting from Monday.
And who was the Anonymous commenter who suggested the incessant toilet blocking games were somehow "natural". There hasn't been a natural event in my life for over six years, and with the perp's insane preoccupation with all things brown, including chasing me with septic services trucks, how is it that you can come to that deduction? Another provocateur it would seem; read this posting and tell me the same thing again. It was the opening sabotage act in 04-2002, blocking my toilet with a balloon and forcing me to get a plumber's snake to get rid of the blockage, and they haven't let up ever since. Funny how all these coincidences keep happening to me.
1520h
More noise this afternoon, the steady din of faux jackhammers in the parkade of the opposite residential tower. As usual, there are no signs of compressors outside, removal of broken up concrete or any other support vehicles or activity. Funny how the jackhammer noise is timed for big jerkaround days.
I just had my tea break, with chocolate, and as always, eating brown colored food is of intense interest to the perps with coordinated noise while eating it, and then drinking tea which would move it down my throat and change the brown coloration scene in my mouth. And I got the crumb games again, some of them just "flying in", as in teleported as they don't fall from anywhere or have a conventional trajectory. The perps have been having a big crumb inundation jerkaround these past three days, they are very cranked up about them, and typically will direct my vision to nearby objects that look like crumbs but aren't, say, a feature of the wood of the table I am eating at. Post crumb pickup or identification, they will also direct me to look at their coffee grounds they add in nearby, extra large water droplets and masses of small bubbles from dishwashing. Another crumb fucking variation that has recently erupted is to have light colored crumbs arranged, and then have a light colored facsimilie nearby to direct me to when dealing with the real crumb. More elaborate fuck games with crumbs are at breakfast with the one slice of bread I have; first comes a "shift" of very small brown crumbs, then larger darker brown ones, and then light colored crumbs. Invariably each crumb type is clustered together and separable from other crumb types on the dinner plate. It would be hilarious if one wasn't in this situation of being life-raped and under intense scrutiny down to one's last thought.
And I found another TI who has an experience of having an arranged existence, including an ex-wife who was part of the scam. He runs the site called Brussell Sprout, and relates a very similar tale to that of mine including one specific detail; women who drop out of his life for no explicable reason. Bingo, we have corroboration of the same fucking jerkaround. How could that possibly be except by design? For the record, I have had some males do the same thing, suddenly turn on me for some curious reason they didn't wish to divulge.
My in-town brother arrived just after lunch to get his print-outs, featuring his shit-brown coat and then standing in front of the window engaging in banter. This begat the backlit games that cast his coat as seeming deep black shadows, and he moved a little bit to keep the brown to black coloration variance games going. He also brought me chocolate for no reason, a Ritter bar in a green plastic wrapper that was duly consumed after lunch. It would seem that his phone calls were accurately timed for when I had a break in the lunch and dishes action so I could answer it, as a warm up to answering the door when he came a few minutes later, "happening" to be in the neighborhood. He parked his new used white tradesvan in view of my apartment window so we could both see it from there at the same time. I have remarked in the past that the perps like me to see the same objects and persons through varying kinds of glass, more than one pane of glass, and of course directly. The sliding door window glass panes have a layer of transparent plastic in them to hold the entire thing together to prevent shards from flying in the event of a breakage, just as car windsheilds do. For whatever reason this is of extreme interest to the sickos for which I don't give a shit. Just leave me alone and stay the fuck out of my life.
And while on the topic of TI family situations and the nascent beginings of harassment, orchestration and other abuse, Rachael O. also put up a good posting today. She has the benefit if having her harassment validated every so often with some kind of reference to her existence. As a rule, I don't get these, but it is interesting to know that the TI abuse scenario begins young. I suspect this is likely more the case than not, and only when do they want some intensfied research do they go overt and put on the noticeable gangstalking and abuse. I don't know why they decide on overt abuse, and it must be on an individual basis.
Another vignette that Rachael O. mentions has played out in my life; being present, or proximate, to overhear others talking about you. It is almost a universal TI Fuckover experience, though I suppose this can happen to anyone, or is it that I don't have an experience with normal, when this would happen. Anyhow, I don't know what the deal is, as the perps like to set this up, and workplace mobbing extensively engages in this trend as well. As I read about it, workplace mobbing is more about character assassinations that are meant to be overheard, same thing as whisper campaigns.
Rachael O. also mentions mold damage to her lungs, which is interesting. Back in the pre-overt harassment days when I lived in Seattle, I would see this woman named Ms. L in a top floor apartment, and she had mold in her apartment, and would never get her act together and get it dealt with. When I came I would buzz her on the intercom, and she would let me into the building. When I got to the top floor I could smell the mold right away from the open elevator doors as Ms. L had opened her door by then and left if for me to walk through while she was sitting on her bed watching TV. She was obviously a planted operative, and did have a rather mysterious life in that she didn't work, yet had all the comforts as well as a place in New York City. I met her at an Attention Deficit Disorder (ADD) conference in early 2001, and for 10 months we were good pals, albeit with an undercurrent of guardedness that didn't dissipate. When the harassment erupted in 2002 she bailed on me, having gone to NYC then, and that was the last of her. The perps tell me she was a morphed (shape shifted) version of Ms. C who then came back into my life about then, though I have no idea if this is true, especially when they are some 60 lb different. For a month or so I had two girlfriends, an overlap, and recall that there was some uncharacteristic amusement from those in my social circle at the time after explaining this situation in response to my boss asking me about my girlfriends. It is all conjecture, and of course a fertile ground for the perps to play mind-fuck games that are totally unprovable.
2110h
A bumper crop of new TI sites today; here is Gangstalking Journal, about the most polished and reasoned description I have read. The story is fascinating, if not disconcerting as to the degree of mind fuck games that her seeming friends put her through while she was drugged. The sensation of "everyone has gone weird" is not new to this TI, though I haven't dealt with any doping to my knowledge.
i was allowed to be more collected at my cleaning job tonight, and not be sabotaged with the forced "forgets" I was getting hammered with last night. There were more plastic bag games; I packed a box of them with me to load quantities into the bottom of the garbage bags as a supply for new ones. One garbage can had some mysterious brown fluid in the bottom that somehow bypassed the stretched plastic liner. I reckon it was all about the brown games, and having me clean a black plastic trash can with a white paper towel of some mysterious brown liquid was yet another test of colors and substances. The fluid had been there for two weeks and then more of it "arrived", and so I felt obliged to clean it up (read, mindfucked to continue the next stage of the brown color/plastic bag/plastic trash can interaction games).
And the perps having me working at a car dealership gives them the means to display varyin car parts, many of them new in brown cardboard boxes or wrapping. Also, it seems that used parts are getting their due as well; I couldn't say if it is normal for a car dealership to have so many used parts around, but I don't fret about it, as the degree of orchestration is over the top wherever I go. Though, I will say that the fuckery level is a little diminished tonight. I got constant faked water noise of seeming neighbors for the entire time I was eating chocolate with my tea tonight, and this degree of noisestalking precisely to my actions is getting more obvious. We are long past plausible cover stories these days.
On my way out the door tonight I got a stalling gangstalking biddy at the front door with red leather gloves, and lo, once I got past here there were a succession of at least five more gangstalkers with some article of same crimson red clothing; hats, jackets, backpacks; just the usual color coordinated fuckery. On the way back from the car dealership cleaning job I got an oncoming ambulatory female gangstalker some 60' ahead twirling a pink scarf around her arm, making out that this was some idle stunt she does. While not bizarre, I consider it most odd as no one wants to invite comparison to be borderline nuts if they aren't. As usual, I got the blank lookaway countenance when this person was closer, a very typical pose for the fuckers who do strange things on-street.
2300h
More bookmarked link troving tonight with the earmuffs on the the din in them; ringing, crackling, pinging and a distant radio voice is my tormentor's notion of hearing protection. Onto a new reality, and calling this done.
It isn't worth answering the phone these days as intensified noise campaigns erupt immediately afterward and run for some 50 minutes for far. And the said phone call from my perp-abetting brother was interupted by a sudden need to pee. So the sequence of fuckery was 1.5 hours of web surfing time, the phone call related to something he claims he cannot find on the internet about local incentives to scrap older vehicles, then the sudden "need" to pee breaking the phone call off, then the noise campaign started. After finishing peeing, I printed off a five page application form for him, replete with the printer doing never-before desk and LCD monitor shaking, even in vertical directions, accompanying door slamming, then the backup beepers started, overhead faint rumbling noise started up, faked outside heavy duty vehicles and the rest of the outside noise fuckery/din that immediately stops when I go to the window to look outside for the putative causes. There are none for the most part and then the noise subsides. And it should be noted that the door slamming in the hallway in this building is some trick when all doors have hydraulic hinges on them; it can't be done if one tried, and yet it erupts suddenly with at least a half dozen in a couple of minutes. Time to dump this websurfing habit it would seem as that is the big driver of the entire run of bullshit that followed.
The sickos had me rage-fied at breakfast again; faked touchings, food flying out of my mouth and into the coffee grounds in the coffee pot immediately before the hot water was added. I have never seen food flying so fast, accurately and with such a trajectory before, another new extra-conventional gravitic fuckery advance to which I am now apprised of. And also, I was treated to another new jerkaround when eating a portion of chocolate this morning. I put the remaining piece entirely into my mouth, and as I pulled my had away, an 1/8" size chocolate crumb arrived in my fingers as if it were a residual piece that somehow broke off. It didn't happen at my mouth, and it only afterward, hence a new crumb teleportation fuckery stunt. A busy morning, all these new heightened jerkarounds, as well as more text jumping all by itself while I am typing this out. Beserk times of late, and this week has been particulary ugly, and this is only day 3 so far, counting from Monday.
And who was the Anonymous commenter who suggested the incessant toilet blocking games were somehow "natural". There hasn't been a natural event in my life for over six years, and with the perp's insane preoccupation with all things brown, including chasing me with septic services trucks, how is it that you can come to that deduction? Another provocateur it would seem; read this posting and tell me the same thing again. It was the opening sabotage act in 04-2002, blocking my toilet with a balloon and forcing me to get a plumber's snake to get rid of the blockage, and they haven't let up ever since. Funny how all these coincidences keep happening to me.
1520h
More noise this afternoon, the steady din of faux jackhammers in the parkade of the opposite residential tower. As usual, there are no signs of compressors outside, removal of broken up concrete or any other support vehicles or activity. Funny how the jackhammer noise is timed for big jerkaround days.
I just had my tea break, with chocolate, and as always, eating brown colored food is of intense interest to the perps with coordinated noise while eating it, and then drinking tea which would move it down my throat and change the brown coloration scene in my mouth. And I got the crumb games again, some of them just "flying in", as in teleported as they don't fall from anywhere or have a conventional trajectory. The perps have been having a big crumb inundation jerkaround these past three days, they are very cranked up about them, and typically will direct my vision to nearby objects that look like crumbs but aren't, say, a feature of the wood of the table I am eating at. Post crumb pickup or identification, they will also direct me to look at their coffee grounds they add in nearby, extra large water droplets and masses of small bubbles from dishwashing. Another crumb fucking variation that has recently erupted is to have light colored crumbs arranged, and then have a light colored facsimilie nearby to direct me to when dealing with the real crumb. More elaborate fuck games with crumbs are at breakfast with the one slice of bread I have; first comes a "shift" of very small brown crumbs, then larger darker brown ones, and then light colored crumbs. Invariably each crumb type is clustered together and separable from other crumb types on the dinner plate. It would be hilarious if one wasn't in this situation of being life-raped and under intense scrutiny down to one's last thought.
And I found another TI who has an experience of having an arranged existence, including an ex-wife who was part of the scam. He runs the site called Brussell Sprout, and relates a very similar tale to that of mine including one specific detail; women who drop out of his life for no explicable reason. Bingo, we have corroboration of the same fucking jerkaround. How could that possibly be except by design? For the record, I have had some males do the same thing, suddenly turn on me for some curious reason they didn't wish to divulge.
My in-town brother arrived just after lunch to get his print-outs, featuring his shit-brown coat and then standing in front of the window engaging in banter. This begat the backlit games that cast his coat as seeming deep black shadows, and he moved a little bit to keep the brown to black coloration variance games going. He also brought me chocolate for no reason, a Ritter bar in a green plastic wrapper that was duly consumed after lunch. It would seem that his phone calls were accurately timed for when I had a break in the lunch and dishes action so I could answer it, as a warm up to answering the door when he came a few minutes later, "happening" to be in the neighborhood. He parked his new used white tradesvan in view of my apartment window so we could both see it from there at the same time. I have remarked in the past that the perps like me to see the same objects and persons through varying kinds of glass, more than one pane of glass, and of course directly. The sliding door window glass panes have a layer of transparent plastic in them to hold the entire thing together to prevent shards from flying in the event of a breakage, just as car windsheilds do. For whatever reason this is of extreme interest to the sickos for which I don't give a shit. Just leave me alone and stay the fuck out of my life.
And while on the topic of TI family situations and the nascent beginings of harassment, orchestration and other abuse, Rachael O. also put up a good posting today. She has the benefit if having her harassment validated every so often with some kind of reference to her existence. As a rule, I don't get these, but it is interesting to know that the TI abuse scenario begins young. I suspect this is likely more the case than not, and only when do they want some intensfied research do they go overt and put on the noticeable gangstalking and abuse. I don't know why they decide on overt abuse, and it must be on an individual basis.
Another vignette that Rachael O. mentions has played out in my life; being present, or proximate, to overhear others talking about you. It is almost a universal TI Fuckover experience, though I suppose this can happen to anyone, or is it that I don't have an experience with normal, when this would happen. Anyhow, I don't know what the deal is, as the perps like to set this up, and workplace mobbing extensively engages in this trend as well. As I read about it, workplace mobbing is more about character assassinations that are meant to be overheard, same thing as whisper campaigns.
Rachael O. also mentions mold damage to her lungs, which is interesting. Back in the pre-overt harassment days when I lived in Seattle, I would see this woman named Ms. L in a top floor apartment, and she had mold in her apartment, and would never get her act together and get it dealt with. When I came I would buzz her on the intercom, and she would let me into the building. When I got to the top floor I could smell the mold right away from the open elevator doors as Ms. L had opened her door by then and left if for me to walk through while she was sitting on her bed watching TV. She was obviously a planted operative, and did have a rather mysterious life in that she didn't work, yet had all the comforts as well as a place in New York City. I met her at an Attention Deficit Disorder (ADD) conference in early 2001, and for 10 months we were good pals, albeit with an undercurrent of guardedness that didn't dissipate. When the harassment erupted in 2002 she bailed on me, having gone to NYC then, and that was the last of her. The perps tell me she was a morphed (shape shifted) version of Ms. C who then came back into my life about then, though I have no idea if this is true, especially when they are some 60 lb different. For a month or so I had two girlfriends, an overlap, and recall that there was some uncharacteristic amusement from those in my social circle at the time after explaining this situation in response to my boss asking me about my girlfriends. It is all conjecture, and of course a fertile ground for the perps to play mind-fuck games that are totally unprovable.
2110h
A bumper crop of new TI sites today; here is Gangstalking Journal, about the most polished and reasoned description I have read. The story is fascinating, if not disconcerting as to the degree of mind fuck games that her seeming friends put her through while she was drugged. The sensation of "everyone has gone weird" is not new to this TI, though I haven't dealt with any doping to my knowledge.
i was allowed to be more collected at my cleaning job tonight, and not be sabotaged with the forced "forgets" I was getting hammered with last night. There were more plastic bag games; I packed a box of them with me to load quantities into the bottom of the garbage bags as a supply for new ones. One garbage can had some mysterious brown fluid in the bottom that somehow bypassed the stretched plastic liner. I reckon it was all about the brown games, and having me clean a black plastic trash can with a white paper towel of some mysterious brown liquid was yet another test of colors and substances. The fluid had been there for two weeks and then more of it "arrived", and so I felt obliged to clean it up (read, mindfucked to continue the next stage of the brown color/plastic bag/plastic trash can interaction games).
And the perps having me working at a car dealership gives them the means to display varyin car parts, many of them new in brown cardboard boxes or wrapping. Also, it seems that used parts are getting their due as well; I couldn't say if it is normal for a car dealership to have so many used parts around, but I don't fret about it, as the degree of orchestration is over the top wherever I go. Though, I will say that the fuckery level is a little diminished tonight. I got constant faked water noise of seeming neighbors for the entire time I was eating chocolate with my tea tonight, and this degree of noisestalking precisely to my actions is getting more obvious. We are long past plausible cover stories these days.
On my way out the door tonight I got a stalling gangstalking biddy at the front door with red leather gloves, and lo, once I got past here there were a succession of at least five more gangstalkers with some article of same crimson red clothing; hats, jackets, backpacks; just the usual color coordinated fuckery. On the way back from the car dealership cleaning job I got an oncoming ambulatory female gangstalker some 60' ahead twirling a pink scarf around her arm, making out that this was some idle stunt she does. While not bizarre, I consider it most odd as no one wants to invite comparison to be borderline nuts if they aren't. As usual, I got the blank lookaway countenance when this person was closer, a very typical pose for the fuckers who do strange things on-street.
2300h
More bookmarked link troving tonight with the earmuffs on the the din in them; ringing, crackling, pinging and a distant radio voice is my tormentor's notion of hearing protection. Onto a new reality, and calling this done.
Monday, December 29, 2008
Birdseed In The Rain + 12-30-2008 updates
1215h
A Sunday night stayover at my perp abetting parent's place last night, and following the departure of my brother, sister-in-law and neice that morning. They slept in the bedroom that I slept in last night, which is my old bedroom of teenage years and also one my mother sleeps in during the week. They cannot put enough surrogates in my bed so to speak. And last night's TV watching evening seating arrangements were changed up; my father's Alzheimers act did more pacing and skulking in the adjacent hallway, often out of sight, and my mother sat beside me on the couch most uncharacteristically for the last hour of TV watching. It was also interesting that a brown plastic tray of brown chocolates was placed beside me for the 60 Minutes full one hour show dedicated to Barack Obama interviews. That the perps have a brown color fixation has been long journalled in this blog, but putting reference colors next to me while watching brown colored skinned individuals is new. Then the CBC Sunday night news came on, also in a recap format with a blonde woman in red reading the news and the red and white motif of the show. And this was the time my mother brought in the hazel and walnuts each in a red plastic mesh bags that were purchased on this past September's outing to the Okanagan wine country. Enough color symmetry for one evening and onto an early 2230h bedtime last night. (Red is also a favorite harassment/gangstaking color).
And I shouldn't of been too surprised that, yet again, an oven rack was placed in the garage and in place as a surrogate Air Loom "stalking" device to cover our arrival in the vehicle and the process of getting out of the vehicle and inside the house, a prime transition harassment scenario. Regular readers will recall from a week ago that my father was running around with the oven rack that had been cleaned overnight in the shower stall prior to my Monday shower, and was extensivley "handling it" (purportedly cleaning it for over 10 minutes, har, har) in the doorway of the house, then in the garage and then in the dining room, effectively chasing me around respectively from the extensive driveway snow removal activity, removing of my boots, and finally sitting down after the exercise. Oven racks as Air Looms, who would of suspected the perps to be so fucking blatant?
So it was this morning when I was set to go back to my place that my mother had a birdseed feeder that needed a new block of birdseed that had to be placed inside a green plastic mesh bag, and that forced a visit outside to retrieve the feeder some 10' up in the tree. That it was begining to rain wasn't too unusual as my imminent departures are often accompanied by rainfall, and this was a backyard "warmup" session it seemed. The birdseed came off the block and scattered in the kitchen to my mother's indifference, as she has a much higher tolerance for mess than I do.
I don't care for messes and the perps like to bring this to my attention much of the time, often in the form of crumb inundations that come from nowhere and arrive the instant my attention is diverted from placing each morning's toast onto my plate. And now the perps are getting to be particular, inundating me with fine brown crumbs at first and then coarser white bread crumbs later while eating the one slice of toast with peanut butter and jam on it. Once they even arranged for one loaf of bread to have the back of each slice gouged out so that not only did it offer varying thicknesses, but also served as a putative source for a large amount of crumbs. Having each slice carved out on the back refutes all the bread crumb game cover stories to date, and the prior arranged crumb and associated holes were of the "through the loaf" variety, but having the back of each slice scooped out suggests a "per slice" manipulation.
While driving into downtown this morning in my parent's vehicle I had my usual posse of color coordinated vehicles; they even put on a consort of navy blue colored vehicles ahead. There was three navy blue colored vehicles in file ahead of me in the same lane, then a silver-grey vehicle, and and then a navy blue vehicle directly in front of me. That makes four same colored blue vehicles in the same lane leading me and one seeming reference color, silver-grey. There was a black colored vehicle in the adjacent lane beside the first blue vehicle in front of me, and a white vehicle behind me in the same lane. Can I call this color coordinated and greytone referenced vehicle posse without fear of some Fuckwit claiming otherwise? I suppose I will wait to see what comments come in. And for the record, I did have a navy blue shirt on and my mother had a navy blue anorak, like a Goretex job with the teflon membrane.
When my perp abetting parents picked me up yesterday I had a Fuckwit seen-before gangstalker exit the elevator in a dark brown outfit, and then two more same brown color dressed Fuckwits on the street before the end of this residential block, and it all might be that my navy blue coat was next to a same colored brown raincoat in my closet, one I never wear for unknown reasons. The color of objects and their respective juxtapositions is coming under increasingly greater scrutiny of late, and it might be that the perps are finally starting to get the results they are looking for after 6.5 years of unmitigated life rape.
2230h
A succession of well-timed phone calls tonight; one when I was about to investigate a possible once colleague on Linked-In, then another that prompted an email search for a phone number, then another non-call (no one there), and then again with an in-town TI who got cut off as I was about to look up an address for her. The perps have managed this very scenario as to what part of the address is online, and what is in my print-out and have me flip constantly between the two of them to get this all figured out as the TI contact phone number seemed to be incorrect. All instignated by this seeming in-town TI contact who cannot get to her email and wants to bring another envelope to me, and then have me forward it on to someone else. Get all that? And did I mention that the yellow envelopes are a garden variety gangstalker prop? I have never seen so many Fuckwits running around (often literally) with white and/or yellow envelopes "to mail" in my my life as in recent months in this city thick with operatives and shills.
And I shall call this one done for the day, even if I have missed out on recounting much of it, being mostly a dull shut-in Monday, post-drop off since 1100h this morning. Even my in-town brother has me sending emails on his behalf, pleading computer and email ludditism. I never know what to believe, and find more interest in how so many of these interactions are similar; as a go-between, contacting someone for somebody else either via (yellow) envelope or email or looking them up online. Just what is it that the perps are after they had to schedule four calls tonight, two of which were cut off?
2325h
And lo, if my TI colleague didn't come by to get the above mentioned address in person (because the phone number wasn't correct) and we engage in a conversation when she plants her backpack upon this very seat that I have sat in all day, waves a yellow envelope about, needs stamps (adhesives are also a big perp interest), gives me some coins in partial payment, needs to write my desk, has a fushcia hair bob that pops in and out of view as she waves her head about and relates more TI woe, which all could be legit. And I also had to write down something on her phone bill, and she used my phone to complain to the phone company that her phone wasn't working. I also got to see some strange pictures that seemed legit; bright orbs in the sky from no seeming source. I once wondered about those solitary TI's who won't talk to anyone but now I don't; one cannot really be sure of the motives of anyone save their body of work (blogs, writings etc.), and that they may even be legit and are controlled to seem like they are not, intervening at just the right time with a full gamut of subtle incursions.
Was there enough consistency with past gangstalker feints in this event? The yellow envelopes again, using my phone after I had used it, replicating handwriting addresses on paper at the same place and manner as I had done it only 20 minutes earlier, and the sending of paper printouts to this same person again. All these are replications of last week' go-between duty, except without the visiting TI at my desk as regular readers and TI's would be familiar with.
[Postscript, 12-30-2008; the instignating event, the seeming incorrect phone number that I passed onto the local TI has been changed and the person who supplied it to me, a TI out of town, didn't think to mention this when I emailed her in advance of mediating this TI contact. And a prior instignating event was that the local TI has her email obstructed. Get all that? When too many little things go "wrong", e.g. email function, wrong phone numbers, no supplied phone number, phone service, it spells SET UP].
And did I mention that Mondays are high incursion and fuckery days? I must of somewhere, as they follow the stayover at my parent's place and all the gangstalking and feints that go down bathed in the magnetic irradiation off their CRT television, my once per week immersion in viewing this manipulative medium, never mind the collection of colors (per above), and Unfavored subjects.
A Sunday night stayover at my perp abetting parent's place last night, and following the departure of my brother, sister-in-law and neice that morning. They slept in the bedroom that I slept in last night, which is my old bedroom of teenage years and also one my mother sleeps in during the week. They cannot put enough surrogates in my bed so to speak. And last night's TV watching evening seating arrangements were changed up; my father's Alzheimers act did more pacing and skulking in the adjacent hallway, often out of sight, and my mother sat beside me on the couch most uncharacteristically for the last hour of TV watching. It was also interesting that a brown plastic tray of brown chocolates was placed beside me for the 60 Minutes full one hour show dedicated to Barack Obama interviews. That the perps have a brown color fixation has been long journalled in this blog, but putting reference colors next to me while watching brown colored skinned individuals is new. Then the CBC Sunday night news came on, also in a recap format with a blonde woman in red reading the news and the red and white motif of the show. And this was the time my mother brought in the hazel and walnuts each in a red plastic mesh bags that were purchased on this past September's outing to the Okanagan wine country. Enough color symmetry for one evening and onto an early 2230h bedtime last night. (Red is also a favorite harassment/gangstaking color).
And I shouldn't of been too surprised that, yet again, an oven rack was placed in the garage and in place as a surrogate Air Loom "stalking" device to cover our arrival in the vehicle and the process of getting out of the vehicle and inside the house, a prime transition harassment scenario. Regular readers will recall from a week ago that my father was running around with the oven rack that had been cleaned overnight in the shower stall prior to my Monday shower, and was extensivley "handling it" (purportedly cleaning it for over 10 minutes, har, har) in the doorway of the house, then in the garage and then in the dining room, effectively chasing me around respectively from the extensive driveway snow removal activity, removing of my boots, and finally sitting down after the exercise. Oven racks as Air Looms, who would of suspected the perps to be so fucking blatant?
So it was this morning when I was set to go back to my place that my mother had a birdseed feeder that needed a new block of birdseed that had to be placed inside a green plastic mesh bag, and that forced a visit outside to retrieve the feeder some 10' up in the tree. That it was begining to rain wasn't too unusual as my imminent departures are often accompanied by rainfall, and this was a backyard "warmup" session it seemed. The birdseed came off the block and scattered in the kitchen to my mother's indifference, as she has a much higher tolerance for mess than I do.
I don't care for messes and the perps like to bring this to my attention much of the time, often in the form of crumb inundations that come from nowhere and arrive the instant my attention is diverted from placing each morning's toast onto my plate. And now the perps are getting to be particular, inundating me with fine brown crumbs at first and then coarser white bread crumbs later while eating the one slice of toast with peanut butter and jam on it. Once they even arranged for one loaf of bread to have the back of each slice gouged out so that not only did it offer varying thicknesses, but also served as a putative source for a large amount of crumbs. Having each slice carved out on the back refutes all the bread crumb game cover stories to date, and the prior arranged crumb and associated holes were of the "through the loaf" variety, but having the back of each slice scooped out suggests a "per slice" manipulation.
While driving into downtown this morning in my parent's vehicle I had my usual posse of color coordinated vehicles; they even put on a consort of navy blue colored vehicles ahead. There was three navy blue colored vehicles in file ahead of me in the same lane, then a silver-grey vehicle, and and then a navy blue vehicle directly in front of me. That makes four same colored blue vehicles in the same lane leading me and one seeming reference color, silver-grey. There was a black colored vehicle in the adjacent lane beside the first blue vehicle in front of me, and a white vehicle behind me in the same lane. Can I call this color coordinated and greytone referenced vehicle posse without fear of some Fuckwit claiming otherwise? I suppose I will wait to see what comments come in. And for the record, I did have a navy blue shirt on and my mother had a navy blue anorak, like a Goretex job with the teflon membrane.
When my perp abetting parents picked me up yesterday I had a Fuckwit seen-before gangstalker exit the elevator in a dark brown outfit, and then two more same brown color dressed Fuckwits on the street before the end of this residential block, and it all might be that my navy blue coat was next to a same colored brown raincoat in my closet, one I never wear for unknown reasons. The color of objects and their respective juxtapositions is coming under increasingly greater scrutiny of late, and it might be that the perps are finally starting to get the results they are looking for after 6.5 years of unmitigated life rape.
2230h
A succession of well-timed phone calls tonight; one when I was about to investigate a possible once colleague on Linked-In, then another that prompted an email search for a phone number, then another non-call (no one there), and then again with an in-town TI who got cut off as I was about to look up an address for her. The perps have managed this very scenario as to what part of the address is online, and what is in my print-out and have me flip constantly between the two of them to get this all figured out as the TI contact phone number seemed to be incorrect. All instignated by this seeming in-town TI contact who cannot get to her email and wants to bring another envelope to me, and then have me forward it on to someone else. Get all that? And did I mention that the yellow envelopes are a garden variety gangstalker prop? I have never seen so many Fuckwits running around (often literally) with white and/or yellow envelopes "to mail" in my my life as in recent months in this city thick with operatives and shills.
And I shall call this one done for the day, even if I have missed out on recounting much of it, being mostly a dull shut-in Monday, post-drop off since 1100h this morning. Even my in-town brother has me sending emails on his behalf, pleading computer and email ludditism. I never know what to believe, and find more interest in how so many of these interactions are similar; as a go-between, contacting someone for somebody else either via (yellow) envelope or email or looking them up online. Just what is it that the perps are after they had to schedule four calls tonight, two of which were cut off?
2325h
And lo, if my TI colleague didn't come by to get the above mentioned address in person (because the phone number wasn't correct) and we engage in a conversation when she plants her backpack upon this very seat that I have sat in all day, waves a yellow envelope about, needs stamps (adhesives are also a big perp interest), gives me some coins in partial payment, needs to write my desk, has a fushcia hair bob that pops in and out of view as she waves her head about and relates more TI woe, which all could be legit. And I also had to write down something on her phone bill, and she used my phone to complain to the phone company that her phone wasn't working. I also got to see some strange pictures that seemed legit; bright orbs in the sky from no seeming source. I once wondered about those solitary TI's who won't talk to anyone but now I don't; one cannot really be sure of the motives of anyone save their body of work (blogs, writings etc.), and that they may even be legit and are controlled to seem like they are not, intervening at just the right time with a full gamut of subtle incursions.
Was there enough consistency with past gangstalker feints in this event? The yellow envelopes again, using my phone after I had used it, replicating handwriting addresses on paper at the same place and manner as I had done it only 20 minutes earlier, and the sending of paper printouts to this same person again. All these are replications of last week' go-between duty, except without the visiting TI at my desk as regular readers and TI's would be familiar with.
[Postscript, 12-30-2008; the instignating event, the seeming incorrect phone number that I passed onto the local TI has been changed and the person who supplied it to me, a TI out of town, didn't think to mention this when I emailed her in advance of mediating this TI contact. And a prior instignating event was that the local TI has her email obstructed. Get all that? When too many little things go "wrong", e.g. email function, wrong phone numbers, no supplied phone number, phone service, it spells SET UP].
And did I mention that Mondays are high incursion and fuckery days? I must of somewhere, as they follow the stayover at my parent's place and all the gangstalking and feints that go down bathed in the magnetic irradiation off their CRT television, my once per week immersion in viewing this manipulative medium, never mind the collection of colors (per above), and Unfavored subjects.
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