11-20-2018
As I write this the ground and this building I live in is shaking. The garage opposite my window across the back lane is getting demolished as I write, with the aid of an excavator and a dump truck. And the fact that I am home at 1000h on a Tuesday to witness this is also not a fluke; as it "happens" the boss wasn't in and there wasn't anything assigned to do, nor any tasks outstanding. I wasn't the only one in these circumstances, and I drove my co-worker home as well. The two installers at work were also running out of things to do and were on the brink of heading home too.
Back to the excavator for a moment, and the articulating boom with the bucket and thumb on the end. Have I not mentioned before that the perps like to arrange boom trucks to transit, and more often, work with extended booms in my proximity with inordinate frequency? Many times I think, but this time it is only 20' away and shaking the place. And too, the demolition of buildings seems to be big deal, with the inevitable conclusion of the debris going to the landfill. Construction of buildings is also of perp interest too for that matter, though it of course takes longer.
Yoga last night, and a full house of some 18 other yogis. I don't know why the woman behind me had to park her mat 6" away when there was plenty of space elsewhere in the room, but hey, this is "normal". The E. Indian male shirtless freak wasn't there, and hence none of that purposeful gliding in at the last second to put his mat beside mine, like he did twice in succession.
The yogic freak show last night seemed to be about tattoos; at least two full arm jobs on women, and the female instructor was also full measure in that department. (I can barely look at her). There were at least three more women with lesser arm tattoos, the scripted writing going up the arm for crissakes. The instructor said next week's class will be her last, so it is either that the next instructor and her unsightly tattoos are going to be more prominent or much less. We shall see.
Another yoga instructor feature the perps like to manipulate is the manner of the instructor's tone of speech; is the instruction delivered as more of a suggestion/request, or as an insistent command. This seems to be a big deal for the perps, as one instructor who had much more of an authoritative command type delivery only lasted one session about three years ago. Go figure.
The loathesome game of huggies in the supermarket, but this time it was my turn. After work I went SOF and a woman viticulturist I know was there and greeted me with a hug. We chatted only briefly, and as her boyfiend was there. I met her at the harvest party two weeks ago, and again, didn't get much interaction time before we were interupted. I had spoken to her at length last year, on two occasions. It would seem the perps are up to their games of limiting contact time with known associates. She is one of the few people I find conversational and interesting and we never failed to chat at length whenever we have crossed paths in vineyard jobs in the last three years.
11-22-2018
To the big city of Kelowna today, to get my IV iron transfusion, as the Good Doctor determined I was low and she also had done prior diligence in determining that I don't absorb iron. I was hoping to meet her and get some idea of how to turn this into a more quantifiable and consistent treatment regimen, rather than me phoning for my "annual" iron check up. And too, the Good Doctor wasn't very consistent this year, as I had to remind her that a ferritin test was inadequate, and she had to re-test me for other iron parameters. As to what they all are and their relative levels I don't know, nor am I any the wiser as to how the results were interpreted. I had to remind her last year of the same thing. So yes, the Good Doctor is losing her status IMHO, though she deserves full credit for disposition for action.
Curiously, I didn't get to see the Good Doctor this time, and only the recently hired nurse administered the IV feed. And the price went up $100 from last year, so I felt a little miffed that I didn't get to articulate my need to get this whole deal down to a more predictable schedule. The last twice I had the iron IV, the office staff babes popped by to check up on me, presumably in place of the doctor, as the process takes over an hour. The nurse did check up on me, but wasn't nearly as attractive though.
I went early to the big city to the tool supply store N of town and got a 1/8" round over router bit after three weeks of promises from the boss man as it is holding up completion of our chair rail installation at the hospital construction site. I was just plain fed up in other words, as he had already travelled to Kelowna twice in the last two weeks and failed to get the router bit as promised.
I got back to the hospital construction site at 1230h, and lo, if someone from the crew, who (unexpectedly) took a day off with the boss man in Kelowna last week, didn't also "happen" to be getting the same router bit as stated by the boss man. No good deed goes unpunished, sabotaged, compromised, duplicated or otherwise interfered with. As it "happened", the boss texted the co-worker in time and he did not get the router bit, and loaded up on purchasing a large number of tools for his own use. A curious "coincidence" I find, given the perps interest in sending others I am working with to the same stores, (this time a hours' drive away) and of course, engaging in financial transactions (for similar items, e.g. tools). Said co-worker was there in the big city last week, and didn't get any tools then, and had a day off two days beforehand. All too odd IMHO. And if I have a tool fetish, one can be sure the perps have long arranged this for whatever reasons they have in this.
And what is with the perps arranging finger cuts of late? I have had three in the last week, and the last most was most odd as I did not run my finger into anything sharp. Yesterday it was an obvious jerkaround; I had used a chisel while kneeling on the floor, and then placed it 12" from where I was using my R hand, and lo, if my L hand didn't inexplicably move for no purpose and get run into the chisel. I was absolutely pissed, as it was a blatant mind fuck stunt. And it "happened" at the same location of last week where the aforementioned curious cause finger cut erupted. The perps just love to arrange blood "samples" as I call them, usually arranging blood to drop onto the floor or nearby objects.
Another imperative of the perp assholes is to slow things up, and bloodletting with arranged finger cuts also serves that purpose. On both occasions, I was in the groove, efficiently attending to something that I know how to do well, and then the assholes struck with a finger cut to then break up the continuity and sense of purpose. Meaning that I had to go to the office and clean it up, and put on a band-aid. Like what the fuck for?
Other continuity disruptions this week were when guys came by with innocuous reasons, as in lame questions, when I was in the groove and getting on with end banding. I was using the router and the new bit to get the plastic imitation wood grain pieces made up that go on the exposed ends of the MDF chair rails, finally attending to this pointless (IMHO) imposed delay that the boss man invoked in spite of his avowed interest in finishing this particular job. My regular co-worker for the chair rails, the passive-aggressive Russian emigre mentioned in past posts, also came by to run his hand over the routed pieces I had made up. Funny that, with the perps longstanding interest in cutting tools, from knives onward, and he shows up, when he was busy on another assignment that kept him fully occupied. Even more curious was that he later came by to sweep up the plastic chips that had spewed from the routers over the prior two hours I was in the cutting room. It has been most unlike him to do any sweeping or cleaning, especially if it was for me.
Anti-metal music here, aka bluegrass-like; I won't vouch for the lyrics, but to hear good music and see such accomplished performers having so much fun is too hard to resist giving this a link. David Rawlings Machine as they like to call themselves; Hot Corn, Cold Corn needs some lyrical translation for this northerner, but I play it most nights of late.
Enough for a post for the week I think, even if the multitude of workplace gangstalkers is so predictable in "arriving" when I turn corners or enter or exit the building. Also, elevator egress (of me, and my gangstalkers) are a big deal for the perps, something that they taught me early when all this insane abuse rained (or reigned) down 04-2002 and hasn't let up. Suddenly, all manner of folks just plain "forgot" normal elevator etiquette of letting the passengers out before entering and started piling in to prevent my egress and/or to bump into me on purpose.
In support of this activity, they even pulled an obvious teleportation job a few months ago at this work site, mentioned in a posting at the time, where the guy (supposed tradesman) gets out on one floor and then "somehow" shows up on the next higher floor getting on, with no conventional discernible means or available time to pull this off. That he was wearing a backpack and had it pushed into me (due to the small elevator and high passenger load) added to his perp cred. The perps like to arrange backpacks to back into me, the usual ploy being that the wearer feigns obliviousness of their extended depth. Another past common location for this stunt is public transportation, aided by the buses being peculiarly busy for that time of day and direction.
Showing posts with label elevator rushing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label elevator rushing. Show all posts
Sunday, November 25, 2018
Monday, July 25, 2011
Week; July 17 -26
07-17-2011
Picking strawberries again, very mushy with the wet weather and the weeds in such abundance. Picker-
Babe manages to cough each time I change my attention while deep in (planted) thought to something else, most notably after a breaktime when I consumed food. Now nearly perfect record of thoughtstalking when she is there, which isn't that often. It does make me wonder what she is about, touching on so many long running perp themes and claiming to have been raised in Nova Scotia and yet she doesn't have a trace of an accent.
I got to wear the new Felco #8's (secateurs aka hand pruners) in their holster, but not use them as I got called off the job before I had started it. I ended up wearing them under my rainpants for all day strawberry picking.
07-18-2011
I finally got to use the Felco #8's, not at work, but on the sage at FFF house with my perp abetting mother next to me and directing how much I should cut it down for season, post-flowering, I took some sage sprigs home too.
07-19-2011
Raspberry picking finally, with a "futility pick" for strawbs for the last 1.5 hours. More like a "red color check", one fruit to the next in the same day. They did this last year too. I got some kind of instant-on allergic reaction in one eye that drove me off earlier than planned, with the Punjabis staying behind.
The first time for street shoes worn to work, keeping the hiking boots at the farm to change into. This seemed to be the trigger for at least three wacko gangstalkers loitering around, and this pattern followed each morning for the next three afterward. As mentioned, one's footwear is under intense research interest, and having me keep two pairs of footwear at the farm is a big deal. Previously, I only kept the gumboots there and travelled in my hiking boots.
A major city bus wacko show on the way back; red colored clothing, which was moved out to have the four or five yellow clothed gangstalkers moved in to replace them. Some 35+ passengers on the #6 bus inbound to downtown at 1730h (reverse commute) is fucking absurd. And so many shiftless dudes all the time, as if they don't have real day jobs, and to be found on the "loser cruiser" in such abundance flies in the face of what they purport to be.
07-20-2011
A farm work day starting in the everbeariang strawberry plantation, the one with the plastic row cover into which the strawberries are planted. I got to use the red-handled Felco #8 secateurs, the long vaunted acquisition and present tool the perps are obsessed about for cutting foliage. Then onto pulling weeds in the carrots, eating at least 10 or so that were "inadvertently" pulled out too. I wasn't alone in that respect. Then picking raspberries all afternoon.
The inbound (after the day's work) city bus sat at the stop for over 8 min. for no seeming reason. This seemed to set the stage for progressive red colored clothing acts to fill in around me. Then a vagrant act on the bus and his collection of plastic bottles in the steel mesh wheeled hamper that is the trademark ambulatory perp haulage device. Then the dudes arrived to plant themselves around me, two in incessant chat mode. A triple negro show when I got off the bus, and a few minutes, another in the hallway. Some 60 minutes later when in the LD store, another negro was posted in the chocolate section with a red hat for crissakes.
Two Asian girls were all about me when doing the 100g Milka chocolate bar pickup, and at least four others posted nearby, for the umpteenth intensified gangstalking event while picking up chocolate.
07-21-2011
The first farm work was pulling weeds from the carrot rows, then after an hour, picking raspberries for the rest of the day. The Mexicans didn't seem too moved by the 3.5Gb of MP3 music I gave them on the MicroSD card; some 1,000 songs, of 90 albums. Just the usual unusual; no demonstrable thanks or seeming usuage of the favor/effort. No good deed goes unappreciated in TI World. Which, to make a long story short, after six years of organizational dysfunction I succeded in building and validating a 500 entity/table database application with a small team that reported to me. And what happens, the users and their managers just sit around and don't use it. One of my colleagues said I "took away all the excuses" as to why they wouldn't/couldn't use the database application, and yet they sat on their hands for at least four years afterward. Now I understand it is operational and one of my team members leads the one man effort to keep it so.
At the farm one of the two E. Indian/Punjabi males wears a turban, and really hasn't learned much Englishf for the over 20 years he has lived in Canada. I call him the FUD Master, as most converstations seem to be circular, and without a clear outcome. He has taken a turn to be more rude of late and was waving his hands in my face at one point, making out that he was talking to someone else and "forgot". If that wasn't enough, the fucker then took a oint-box carrier from beside me that I had just made up with the 8 pint boxes. This is an exact repeat of what a Mexican did to me yesterday; talking the filled out carrier from beside me when I was momentarily distracted. One cannot find such coordinated rudeness outside of TI World.
And extra noise on the farm all day long; an adjacent excavation company shop and yard, talking hikers and bikers, distant loud mufflered vehicles, overhead aircraft (at least 12 single engine fixed wing private aircraft) and a white helicopter making two passes, roughly E to W, some 40 min apart- a oldie, likely a Bell 47-GB2.
07-22-2011
More weed pulling, first in the carrots, this time with a separate crew of four or so on harvesting nearby; digging, bunching and washing in the field. Interesting that it has taken the perps some nine years to arrange proximate crop weeding and its harvesting at the same time. I cannot count the number of times I have done one or the other in the four years of farm work they have put me through, and so this represents an all time first for the assholes to arrange this one.
Then raspberry picking began before the first break (1000h), and I note that I have attained a new higher
"leper status" in terms of no one sitting next to me, save the "starter" shill. This act has one of the Mexicans sitting or lying on the ground curled up for crissakes, for two to five minutes of the break before they take themselves off to the rest of their colleagues some 20' away. The Punjabis don't even sit together on breaks, but now disperse themselves 30' away on each side, and sometimes one 12' in front. Most curious. But they do go into extensive and loud converstation while I am picking raspberries nearby, often cranking it up when I change rows and begin one anew. This is also the occasion when extra vehicular activity erupts, with plenty of drive-bys and berry pick-ups. Also, the overhead aircraft activity picks up when changing picking rows.
07-23-2011
A predictably sunny day, so I decided I might pick raspberriw while wearing shorts. I had them under my black pants as I would need the latter for weed pulling, but we started on raspberries. I wore my tan-through shirt on top, a rare clothing combination, for getting direct sun exposure on my still-white legs (and still keeping up the newly acquired leg shaving habit) and my torso at the same time. The perps often start from the most difficult combinations (clothes in this case) and work me into simpler combinations later. This new clothing combination of shorts under pants and the shirt seemed to be the impetus to screw me out of getting the first Saturday bus, and lo, if the next one isn't 30 min. later. I make a phone call to the farmer to tell him of my later arrival, then a forced shit. Not until the perps made themselves apparent did I ever take a crap before 1000h, and suddenly all such past "habits" changed, including the time of all bodily eliminations. So it would seem the perps wanted me to sit around in this different (never before) clothig combination for 30 min. (shorts that hadn't been worn for over 8 years under pants). The totally screwed me into thinking it was a Saturday #6 bus time of 0722h when that was the Sunday time. The perps can now govern the "for sure" recollections.
It was picking raspsberries all day and wearing shorts. As one picks raspberries standing up mostly, it make for better tanningsituation than picking strawberries where one one is scrunched up and between the rows of foliage. I was a luchtime leper again, every one staying a minimum of 15' away, and the normally socializing Punjabis strangely dispersed and each one sitting alone.
A major confluence around me when I changed back into pants as the sun was behind a major front coming in as it seemed at the afternoon break time. And lo, some 10 min. later, the entire cloud front (3/4 of the sky) was entirely displaced N, and sun was free and clear to beam on me while picking raspberries and back in my long pants.
This seemed cause to have 30 min. of constant motorcycle noise in distance for the last picking hours of the day. And some 20 or more aircraft over the day.
And the inbound city bus/freakshow; heavy on the tattoos, with a major set arranged in front of me for me to look down to the lower floor section. And after getting off the bus, walking one block to this apartment, why as tattooed Fuckwit attempting to barge into the elevator before I got out And get this, he was attempting to barge into the elevator while looking down at his feet, and not looking forward to where he was going. Like who in the fuck ever enters an elevator when looking at one's feet; not only do you no know which direction it is going, but you don't know who is coming at you. All to show me his ridiculous tattoos on the heels of seeing a fugly set for the prior 20 minutes on the bus.
07-24-2011
A day of picking raspberries and a much appreciated relief from strawberries, which save the everbearing plantation, are likely over for the season. And it was predictably sunny so I wore my shorts and picked in them, applying sunscreen at 1300h as lunch finished up. My legs are still a ghastly white, though later I did note a mild redness to signify tanning at long last.
I see they also put on a local picker who has jet black hair, and she too came in shorts with ghastly white legs. I was told this girl had been let go as she left too many berries behind, but there she was again. The seeming showdown with the supervisor over her berry picking was said to have occured, but I was on the other side of the row of raspberry canes and I didn't hear a thing. It seemed faked to me.
They shut down the picking at 1530h, which screwed up my plans to have my mother pick me up at 1700h. And lo, if she wasn't availible on her landline or her cell phone. The Mexicans were also going back to their places in the new crew van, and they gave me a ride to my mother's place, the FFF house, which wasn't too far from the farm. I suppose the big deal was that it was my first trip in this new crew van, a min-van, that had powered rear sliding doors, a new feature I was exposed to. We had dropped three of the Mexicans off first, and another three were in the van, and somehow the perps eliminated my awareness, which they could do since 2006, and I didn't seen how the doors opened when we first lest the passengers out. Only the second time, when I was getting let out was I allowed to see that the doors were powered for opening and closing. And part of the deal might of been that the one Mexican who knows reasonable English was able to convey the instructions to the driver who doesn't know much, though he has his international driver's licence. This same driver took me to a different drop-off location three weeks ago, and I had to use extensive hand signals to direct him, though thankfully I was in the front passenger seat then. But it seems very important to the perps as to whom and how I convey my instructions, and by what means, and I suppose travelling with Mexicans in these varying states of communication seems to be part of the perp informational transference reasearch component.
07-25-2011
1610h
A Monday, and a return from the First Feral Family house stayover. I drove my mother about for lawn sprinklers, as she had a brass sprinkler head for a base that self destructed. So got to carry this around to the two stops we made, the latter a specialty irrigation supply house, a seeming favorite of late for the perps to arrange events/stunts there. I frequented this store in 1997 through 1999 when I had a small farm and the water and irrigation supply was in atrocious shape. So now I am visiting this store again with FFF members and of course the "hold up" stunts of keeping me there longer and having the Fuckwits fill in around me while waiting to be served, during being served. A junky yellow plastic base was what my perp-abetting mother wanted, and with a 20" riser pipe it works OK, save that it doesn't have an independent tightening ring to secure the hose to it. This means spinning this wrteched piece of yellow plastic around the end of the hose for it to mate. I though this bullshit was over some decades ago, but no, resoundingly bad industrial design never goes out of perp favor for all the problems and protractions it offers. I assembled it and ran it, and no doubt having water go through a yellow plastic channel and then through the dark grey riser pipe to the brass sprinkler head was too exciting for words (for them). I wonder how long this will last, and I will be back to the store for something better.
This is a no-yellow-medication-intake-Monday don't forget, and in addition to the above nonsense over the yellow plastic sprinkler base, there were more than the usual yellow gangstalking vehicles in abundance. Also, having a banana at breakfast, and half a one at lunch might have also fuelled the yelllow color nonsense that is their stock in trade.
And lo, if not a near normal city bus ridership on the way back; five other passengers on the #22 route instead of the 20+ on the #27/28 route that also goes downtown. I still got a stare from this fat woman for no reason, and it does seem that Fat Girls are getting much more prominence on the gangstalker circuit of late, and especially today. The "gut strut" of the overstuffed dudes has been a given for years, and is now made seasonally all the more absurd of late as they have taken en masse to wearing these dumbshit baggy shorts that go below their knees. I haven't figured out what this particular gangstalking dress code is all about, but just as I was about to pay for my items this morning, why, a gut-strutting male passed by the store hallway for me to see. My mother had also given me two $5 bills, blue in color here, prior to the transaction as she was reimbursing me for one of the three items I purchased at this specialty tool and gardening store.
I did a similar beat with my out-of-town brother and his family two weeks ago, going to the specialty tool store, having lunch, and then going to the same irrigation supply store for parts to repair my mother's soaker hose that gets a break in it each year of the last two (My brother repaired the soaker hose almost exactly with the same parts as I did, save the difference of using 1" hose clamps instead of 3/4" as they were out of stock). So it seems the perps are still testing water and its properties as it passes through hose and repair segments and is taken up by either landscape or food crop plants. In the latter case, the perps have been testing me on food crops fed from aluminum pipe, plastic PVC pipe and various other plastic types that are used in water containment and delivery. And too, the ownership of the hobby farm, also cost me some $3,000 in digging a trench and putting in new 2" PVC pipe as the old steel pipe was rusted out. The old water supply pipe had some blue plastic segments in it as well, and the local irrigation supply expert had never seen this type before. This blue plastic pipe had destabilized and appeared to be deforming and then breaking. That cut the 600,000 gallon water usage to a tenth of that consumption for a quarterly billing. In other words, the perps are still at work over what water supply I use for what purpose and what color and material the delivery pipes are. Presumably, this water supply is structured with the energetics of the delivery pipe and the soil in which it resides, and they are still at testing me for all the downstream energetic effects it has on me and my laundry.
1840h
More sirens the second round in 10 minutes, and not the last given the usual extra fuckery they lay on each Monday I return from the FFF stayover. And plenty of noisy motorcycle noise today, and even arranging one in traffic to ride beside me with the driver holding out his closest (R) foot outboard of the motorcycle. Maybe it was his new white sneakers and all the glues and fabrics with remaining shoe-box residue as well. And what idiot rides a Harley Davidson in new white sneakers? One can get dumped anytime, and leather riding boots are a near necessity. But in this arranged world I am kept in, they needed to have noisy motorcycle noise to accompany this ridiculous exposition of new sneakers at speed. Which wasn't too different from another wierd event two weeks ago; a motorcyclist (seeming) walking with his motorcycle clothes, and holding them up at chest level. Fucking ridiculous, but yet more examples of how the perps seem to need to leverage motorcycles (noise, and fewer parts and size) to enable further research on four (or more) wheeled vehicles.
1950h
Back from a tanning salon visitation; a sure magnet for more gangstalking action, which I did surely experience in the local supermarket on the way back. The freaks were out, and making multiple passes at each end of the store. The supermarket has been out of guacamole and tapenade for the last week, either of which I regularly use in the one dish they routinely have me make, quesadilla with chopped chicken. So an alternative tapenade, from Italy, and colored the dreaded brown color they so like to selectively expose me to. Brown colored clothing hasn't been allowed since early 2004 when it kept getting more frayed with each laundering until it was unrepairable.
But they finally allowed me to have salad tonight, the first time in a week, and even had me add some sage leaves from my mother's garden that I cut from there last week (Monday, with the new Felco #8 secateurs). As mentioned many times, the cutting of food and plants is of considerable perp interest, which includes the particular knife or shears. The sage sprig stems were kept in a glass of water, recharged three times over the week, and were added to the quesadilla. The first time the taste was sensational, and after that it was mildly pleasant. This denaturing of taste is something I have attributed to the perps in the past as they have put me through this scenario so many times. Basically, all my taste sensations have been blandified for whatever aims the assholes have in eliminating this sensation from my existence.
More sirens and an amubulance doing its emergency flashing light show when I was walking on my way to the tanning salon. And after some 15 sessions, I still do not have tanned legs out the deal. If the perps can screw with so many elemental physical properties by unconventional means, I am sure they are meddling here too. After all, their brown color and brown colored skin obsession has been made clear from the very first months of this insane abuse, so I am not too surprised they want to slow down my skin turning brown.
2200h
Way late for a farmworked to get up at 0400h, so I will call this one done.
Picking strawberries again, very mushy with the wet weather and the weeds in such abundance. Picker-
Babe manages to cough each time I change my attention while deep in (planted) thought to something else, most notably after a breaktime when I consumed food. Now nearly perfect record of thoughtstalking when she is there, which isn't that often. It does make me wonder what she is about, touching on so many long running perp themes and claiming to have been raised in Nova Scotia and yet she doesn't have a trace of an accent.
I got to wear the new Felco #8's (secateurs aka hand pruners) in their holster, but not use them as I got called off the job before I had started it. I ended up wearing them under my rainpants for all day strawberry picking.
07-18-2011
I finally got to use the Felco #8's, not at work, but on the sage at FFF house with my perp abetting mother next to me and directing how much I should cut it down for season, post-flowering, I took some sage sprigs home too.
07-19-2011
Raspberry picking finally, with a "futility pick" for strawbs for the last 1.5 hours. More like a "red color check", one fruit to the next in the same day. They did this last year too. I got some kind of instant-on allergic reaction in one eye that drove me off earlier than planned, with the Punjabis staying behind.
The first time for street shoes worn to work, keeping the hiking boots at the farm to change into. This seemed to be the trigger for at least three wacko gangstalkers loitering around, and this pattern followed each morning for the next three afterward. As mentioned, one's footwear is under intense research interest, and having me keep two pairs of footwear at the farm is a big deal. Previously, I only kept the gumboots there and travelled in my hiking boots.
A major city bus wacko show on the way back; red colored clothing, which was moved out to have the four or five yellow clothed gangstalkers moved in to replace them. Some 35+ passengers on the #6 bus inbound to downtown at 1730h (reverse commute) is fucking absurd. And so many shiftless dudes all the time, as if they don't have real day jobs, and to be found on the "loser cruiser" in such abundance flies in the face of what they purport to be.
07-20-2011
A farm work day starting in the everbeariang strawberry plantation, the one with the plastic row cover into which the strawberries are planted. I got to use the red-handled Felco #8 secateurs, the long vaunted acquisition and present tool the perps are obsessed about for cutting foliage. Then onto pulling weeds in the carrots, eating at least 10 or so that were "inadvertently" pulled out too. I wasn't alone in that respect. Then picking raspberries all afternoon.
The inbound (after the day's work) city bus sat at the stop for over 8 min. for no seeming reason. This seemed to set the stage for progressive red colored clothing acts to fill in around me. Then a vagrant act on the bus and his collection of plastic bottles in the steel mesh wheeled hamper that is the trademark ambulatory perp haulage device. Then the dudes arrived to plant themselves around me, two in incessant chat mode. A triple negro show when I got off the bus, and a few minutes, another in the hallway. Some 60 minutes later when in the LD store, another negro was posted in the chocolate section with a red hat for crissakes.
Two Asian girls were all about me when doing the 100g Milka chocolate bar pickup, and at least four others posted nearby, for the umpteenth intensified gangstalking event while picking up chocolate.
07-21-2011
The first farm work was pulling weeds from the carrot rows, then after an hour, picking raspberries for the rest of the day. The Mexicans didn't seem too moved by the 3.5Gb of MP3 music I gave them on the MicroSD card; some 1,000 songs, of 90 albums. Just the usual unusual; no demonstrable thanks or seeming usuage of the favor/effort. No good deed goes unappreciated in TI World. Which, to make a long story short, after six years of organizational dysfunction I succeded in building and validating a 500 entity/table database application with a small team that reported to me. And what happens, the users and their managers just sit around and don't use it. One of my colleagues said I "took away all the excuses" as to why they wouldn't/couldn't use the database application, and yet they sat on their hands for at least four years afterward. Now I understand it is operational and one of my team members leads the one man effort to keep it so.
At the farm one of the two E. Indian/Punjabi males wears a turban, and really hasn't learned much Englishf for the over 20 years he has lived in Canada. I call him the FUD Master, as most converstations seem to be circular, and without a clear outcome. He has taken a turn to be more rude of late and was waving his hands in my face at one point, making out that he was talking to someone else and "forgot". If that wasn't enough, the fucker then took a oint-box carrier from beside me that I had just made up with the 8 pint boxes. This is an exact repeat of what a Mexican did to me yesterday; talking the filled out carrier from beside me when I was momentarily distracted. One cannot find such coordinated rudeness outside of TI World.
And extra noise on the farm all day long; an adjacent excavation company shop and yard, talking hikers and bikers, distant loud mufflered vehicles, overhead aircraft (at least 12 single engine fixed wing private aircraft) and a white helicopter making two passes, roughly E to W, some 40 min apart- a oldie, likely a Bell 47-GB2.
07-22-2011
More weed pulling, first in the carrots, this time with a separate crew of four or so on harvesting nearby; digging, bunching and washing in the field. Interesting that it has taken the perps some nine years to arrange proximate crop weeding and its harvesting at the same time. I cannot count the number of times I have done one or the other in the four years of farm work they have put me through, and so this represents an all time first for the assholes to arrange this one.
Then raspberry picking began before the first break (1000h), and I note that I have attained a new higher
"leper status" in terms of no one sitting next to me, save the "starter" shill. This act has one of the Mexicans sitting or lying on the ground curled up for crissakes, for two to five minutes of the break before they take themselves off to the rest of their colleagues some 20' away. The Punjabis don't even sit together on breaks, but now disperse themselves 30' away on each side, and sometimes one 12' in front. Most curious. But they do go into extensive and loud converstation while I am picking raspberries nearby, often cranking it up when I change rows and begin one anew. This is also the occasion when extra vehicular activity erupts, with plenty of drive-bys and berry pick-ups. Also, the overhead aircraft activity picks up when changing picking rows.
07-23-2011
A predictably sunny day, so I decided I might pick raspberriw while wearing shorts. I had them under my black pants as I would need the latter for weed pulling, but we started on raspberries. I wore my tan-through shirt on top, a rare clothing combination, for getting direct sun exposure on my still-white legs (and still keeping up the newly acquired leg shaving habit) and my torso at the same time. The perps often start from the most difficult combinations (clothes in this case) and work me into simpler combinations later. This new clothing combination of shorts under pants and the shirt seemed to be the impetus to screw me out of getting the first Saturday bus, and lo, if the next one isn't 30 min. later. I make a phone call to the farmer to tell him of my later arrival, then a forced shit. Not until the perps made themselves apparent did I ever take a crap before 1000h, and suddenly all such past "habits" changed, including the time of all bodily eliminations. So it would seem the perps wanted me to sit around in this different (never before) clothig combination for 30 min. (shorts that hadn't been worn for over 8 years under pants). The totally screwed me into thinking it was a Saturday #6 bus time of 0722h when that was the Sunday time. The perps can now govern the "for sure" recollections.
It was picking raspsberries all day and wearing shorts. As one picks raspberries standing up mostly, it make for better tanningsituation than picking strawberries where one one is scrunched up and between the rows of foliage. I was a luchtime leper again, every one staying a minimum of 15' away, and the normally socializing Punjabis strangely dispersed and each one sitting alone.
A major confluence around me when I changed back into pants as the sun was behind a major front coming in as it seemed at the afternoon break time. And lo, some 10 min. later, the entire cloud front (3/4 of the sky) was entirely displaced N, and sun was free and clear to beam on me while picking raspberries and back in my long pants.
This seemed cause to have 30 min. of constant motorcycle noise in distance for the last picking hours of the day. And some 20 or more aircraft over the day.
And the inbound city bus/freakshow; heavy on the tattoos, with a major set arranged in front of me for me to look down to the lower floor section. And after getting off the bus, walking one block to this apartment, why as tattooed Fuckwit attempting to barge into the elevator before I got out And get this, he was attempting to barge into the elevator while looking down at his feet, and not looking forward to where he was going. Like who in the fuck ever enters an elevator when looking at one's feet; not only do you no know which direction it is going, but you don't know who is coming at you. All to show me his ridiculous tattoos on the heels of seeing a fugly set for the prior 20 minutes on the bus.
07-24-2011
A day of picking raspberries and a much appreciated relief from strawberries, which save the everbearing plantation, are likely over for the season. And it was predictably sunny so I wore my shorts and picked in them, applying sunscreen at 1300h as lunch finished up. My legs are still a ghastly white, though later I did note a mild redness to signify tanning at long last.
I see they also put on a local picker who has jet black hair, and she too came in shorts with ghastly white legs. I was told this girl had been let go as she left too many berries behind, but there she was again. The seeming showdown with the supervisor over her berry picking was said to have occured, but I was on the other side of the row of raspberry canes and I didn't hear a thing. It seemed faked to me.
They shut down the picking at 1530h, which screwed up my plans to have my mother pick me up at 1700h. And lo, if she wasn't availible on her landline or her cell phone. The Mexicans were also going back to their places in the new crew van, and they gave me a ride to my mother's place, the FFF house, which wasn't too far from the farm. I suppose the big deal was that it was my first trip in this new crew van, a min-van, that had powered rear sliding doors, a new feature I was exposed to. We had dropped three of the Mexicans off first, and another three were in the van, and somehow the perps eliminated my awareness, which they could do since 2006, and I didn't seen how the doors opened when we first lest the passengers out. Only the second time, when I was getting let out was I allowed to see that the doors were powered for opening and closing. And part of the deal might of been that the one Mexican who knows reasonable English was able to convey the instructions to the driver who doesn't know much, though he has his international driver's licence. This same driver took me to a different drop-off location three weeks ago, and I had to use extensive hand signals to direct him, though thankfully I was in the front passenger seat then. But it seems very important to the perps as to whom and how I convey my instructions, and by what means, and I suppose travelling with Mexicans in these varying states of communication seems to be part of the perp informational transference reasearch component.
07-25-2011
1610h
A Monday, and a return from the First Feral Family house stayover. I drove my mother about for lawn sprinklers, as she had a brass sprinkler head for a base that self destructed. So got to carry this around to the two stops we made, the latter a specialty irrigation supply house, a seeming favorite of late for the perps to arrange events/stunts there. I frequented this store in 1997 through 1999 when I had a small farm and the water and irrigation supply was in atrocious shape. So now I am visiting this store again with FFF members and of course the "hold up" stunts of keeping me there longer and having the Fuckwits fill in around me while waiting to be served, during being served. A junky yellow plastic base was what my perp-abetting mother wanted, and with a 20" riser pipe it works OK, save that it doesn't have an independent tightening ring to secure the hose to it. This means spinning this wrteched piece of yellow plastic around the end of the hose for it to mate. I though this bullshit was over some decades ago, but no, resoundingly bad industrial design never goes out of perp favor for all the problems and protractions it offers. I assembled it and ran it, and no doubt having water go through a yellow plastic channel and then through the dark grey riser pipe to the brass sprinkler head was too exciting for words (for them). I wonder how long this will last, and I will be back to the store for something better.
This is a no-yellow-medication-intake-Monday don't forget, and in addition to the above nonsense over the yellow plastic sprinkler base, there were more than the usual yellow gangstalking vehicles in abundance. Also, having a banana at breakfast, and half a one at lunch might have also fuelled the yelllow color nonsense that is their stock in trade.
And lo, if not a near normal city bus ridership on the way back; five other passengers on the #22 route instead of the 20+ on the #27/28 route that also goes downtown. I still got a stare from this fat woman for no reason, and it does seem that Fat Girls are getting much more prominence on the gangstalker circuit of late, and especially today. The "gut strut" of the overstuffed dudes has been a given for years, and is now made seasonally all the more absurd of late as they have taken en masse to wearing these dumbshit baggy shorts that go below their knees. I haven't figured out what this particular gangstalking dress code is all about, but just as I was about to pay for my items this morning, why, a gut-strutting male passed by the store hallway for me to see. My mother had also given me two $5 bills, blue in color here, prior to the transaction as she was reimbursing me for one of the three items I purchased at this specialty tool and gardening store.
I did a similar beat with my out-of-town brother and his family two weeks ago, going to the specialty tool store, having lunch, and then going to the same irrigation supply store for parts to repair my mother's soaker hose that gets a break in it each year of the last two (My brother repaired the soaker hose almost exactly with the same parts as I did, save the difference of using 1" hose clamps instead of 3/4" as they were out of stock). So it seems the perps are still testing water and its properties as it passes through hose and repair segments and is taken up by either landscape or food crop plants. In the latter case, the perps have been testing me on food crops fed from aluminum pipe, plastic PVC pipe and various other plastic types that are used in water containment and delivery. And too, the ownership of the hobby farm, also cost me some $3,000 in digging a trench and putting in new 2" PVC pipe as the old steel pipe was rusted out. The old water supply pipe had some blue plastic segments in it as well, and the local irrigation supply expert had never seen this type before. This blue plastic pipe had destabilized and appeared to be deforming and then breaking. That cut the 600,000 gallon water usage to a tenth of that consumption for a quarterly billing. In other words, the perps are still at work over what water supply I use for what purpose and what color and material the delivery pipes are. Presumably, this water supply is structured with the energetics of the delivery pipe and the soil in which it resides, and they are still at testing me for all the downstream energetic effects it has on me and my laundry.
1840h
More sirens the second round in 10 minutes, and not the last given the usual extra fuckery they lay on each Monday I return from the FFF stayover. And plenty of noisy motorcycle noise today, and even arranging one in traffic to ride beside me with the driver holding out his closest (R) foot outboard of the motorcycle. Maybe it was his new white sneakers and all the glues and fabrics with remaining shoe-box residue as well. And what idiot rides a Harley Davidson in new white sneakers? One can get dumped anytime, and leather riding boots are a near necessity. But in this arranged world I am kept in, they needed to have noisy motorcycle noise to accompany this ridiculous exposition of new sneakers at speed. Which wasn't too different from another wierd event two weeks ago; a motorcyclist (seeming) walking with his motorcycle clothes, and holding them up at chest level. Fucking ridiculous, but yet more examples of how the perps seem to need to leverage motorcycles (noise, and fewer parts and size) to enable further research on four (or more) wheeled vehicles.
1950h
Back from a tanning salon visitation; a sure magnet for more gangstalking action, which I did surely experience in the local supermarket on the way back. The freaks were out, and making multiple passes at each end of the store. The supermarket has been out of guacamole and tapenade for the last week, either of which I regularly use in the one dish they routinely have me make, quesadilla with chopped chicken. So an alternative tapenade, from Italy, and colored the dreaded brown color they so like to selectively expose me to. Brown colored clothing hasn't been allowed since early 2004 when it kept getting more frayed with each laundering until it was unrepairable.
But they finally allowed me to have salad tonight, the first time in a week, and even had me add some sage leaves from my mother's garden that I cut from there last week (Monday, with the new Felco #8 secateurs). As mentioned many times, the cutting of food and plants is of considerable perp interest, which includes the particular knife or shears. The sage sprig stems were kept in a glass of water, recharged three times over the week, and were added to the quesadilla. The first time the taste was sensational, and after that it was mildly pleasant. This denaturing of taste is something I have attributed to the perps in the past as they have put me through this scenario so many times. Basically, all my taste sensations have been blandified for whatever aims the assholes have in eliminating this sensation from my existence.
More sirens and an amubulance doing its emergency flashing light show when I was walking on my way to the tanning salon. And after some 15 sessions, I still do not have tanned legs out the deal. If the perps can screw with so many elemental physical properties by unconventional means, I am sure they are meddling here too. After all, their brown color and brown colored skin obsession has been made clear from the very first months of this insane abuse, so I am not too surprised they want to slow down my skin turning brown.
2200h
Way late for a farmworked to get up at 0400h, so I will call this one done.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Spray Days
06-10-2011
Farm work labor today, starting out with having me cut flower heads off the everbearing strawberries, some 3 to 4 acres of plastic row covered rows. There were three of us on the job, one E. Indian woman and a Caucasian woman with psorias who I would term a colleague, as she and I talk on breaks as there isn't anyone else who is fluent in English to talk to. She tailed me to the daffodil farm last year, and looks to be rewarded with tuition and entry into a 9 month horticultural program starting in July. She worked at this farm last year, and seems to have a certain amount of relationship dysfunction in her life. She somehow manages to touch on many of the perps' topical themes too; from money management to jobs in the oil and gas industry and then even put my time card though the punch/print machine, after asking and me strangely giving her permission.
Then I got called off the strawberry flower cutting after for two hours, then onto herbicide application where four of us worked on guarding the same strawberries from overspray while the aisles between the strawberry rows were sprayed for the weeds which threatened to overwhelm them. There were two red colored 3'x8' plastic panels with a wood edge to stiffen the them, and I was lugging one panel while the herbicide applicator was between the two panels bordering the row edges, as held by the panel toting workers, me being on. These were the same strawberries I had a hand in planting some four weeks ago, now with leaves and begining to send out runners. One week later and the strawberry leaves would of been hanging over the row edges and intermixing with the weed leaves, and it would of been responsibly impossible to apply herbicide in that circumstance.
But the system we had, just fabricated, didn't quite work, so the panels had to be stiffened again, and in the interim we hoe-ed the prolific weeds between the pumpkins in a nearby field under the powerlines that were just emerging .
Later in the afternoon, the red plastic panels had been reworked, and we went back to the herbicide application until 1700h, when the boss' son declared it too windy to continue. So, as I agreed to extra working time to complete the herbicide job, I ended up hoe-ing the pumpkin weeds until 1830h. And it is important to note the color games going on; two red 3'x8' panels bounding the green weeds between them, and lo, if the pumpkin weeds that were most prolific weren't green on top with a red colored underside. When I would take the hoe to a line of weeds that was left upright by the tractor cultivator, why this green weed row (4" wide or so), was converted into red leaves, upended by the application my hoe.
Then to get a ride to the bus stop, I was to help for 10 minutes (as stated at first) with some of the furniture in the farm warehouse, as some had been reserved from last week in the house moving job of the boss' son. He didn't want some of it and it was kept at the farm warehouse for possible use by the Mexicans farm workers who are to arrive in late June. As it "turned out", one of the Punjabis wanted two of the beds, and sorted his way through the furniture for 40 minutes instead of ten like he initially said. He ended up breaking a 2'x1' mirror on one bed headboard in the process, but finally his deep metallic red colored pickup truck was loaded with a single bed and two light blue matresses. I got my ride to the bus stop, but as it was after 1800h there were much less buses running and a longer wait.
This was during game 5 of the Stanley Cup final series between Vancouver and Boston, and there were countless vehicular gangstalking formations, with man metallic red colors that were on duty then. Finally, when the bus came, some 20 passengers. For what I know about this town, it was totally bogus to have that many passengers on a bus heading into downtown simultaneously during a pivotal Stanley Cup hockey game. I had my bald heads, negroes, fat freaks all Unfavored, and clustered around me, and to top off the bullshit, a woman with black hair and unnatural red streaks in it sat next to me.
I get off the city bus freakshow, with my pink-red dressed accompaniment in front of me and walk one block to my apartment building. A seeming meeting had erupted across the street with 20 more freaks standing there; male long harirs, long bearded and seeming hippy throwbacks. I get to my building and somehow am too tired to walk up the six flights as I usually do, and take the elevator. And at the sixth floor, lo, if there wasn't a freak dude poised to enter the elevator as I was about to step out, this Fuckwit obstructing my egress. I tell him that I would like to get out and he didn't like to hear it, and he got cranked up about it as we were each headed opposite directions. What is it about this Fuckover town that elevator etiquette ignorant assholes are positioned at the doors before they open and obstructing my abitlity to get out? At least 12 obvious stunts in this building in 4 years, and this bullshit erupted in 2004 and hasn't stopped. I have worked here in prior years, Vancouver, Seattle, Everett, and used elevators in New York, Los Angeles, Paris and other places, and have never ever before seen the total insane obstructing bullshit about not letting passengers exit before they get out of an elevator that goes on in this Total Abuse Domination city. Even the Asians are doing this bullshit, ordinarily a most polite population who value manners more than most. Plus, this fugly Fuckwit had tattoos on the side of his neck, another Unfavored feature.
And continuing noise all evening after 2000h, Game 5 of the Stanley Cup finals with the near-local Vancouver Canucks winning; hooting and hollaring going on until at least 2300h. Then outside heavy duty vehicles (on a Friday night, sure), motorcycles and other loud mufflered vehicles (hotrods, bad mufflers etc.). Then they kept me up for hours in the night, and maybe I got some two hours sleep.
06-11-2011
A wacko morning outbound Saturday city bus trip, the 0707h #6 bus from downtown, and populated with at least 12 dudes, one of whom regularly gangstalks me on Saturday mornings on this bus. This same Fuckwit was approaching the bus stop, and comes toward me, stopping some 4' away, and inserting himself between the woman in bright red pants and me. He also gives me the stare, and this fits with the ongong public behavior pattern of having the Fuckwits walk (or run sometimes) directly at me and then divert or stop, enough to invoke a primal threat warning the perps like to consistently test me for. Then about ten minutes into the bus trip, with the skankl smelling dudes, this same Fuckwit gets up and pops the emergency hatch partially open to let some air into the rear of the bus. Like WTF; it is for an emergency and the windows are there for letting air in. I suppose they needed to test this plastic panel in a different orientation while travelling on the mobile gangstalker platform. This same Fuckwit came at me at a different bus stop one morning, sitting next to me for some curious reason, and I got up and stood elsewere, as this Fuckwit creeped me out. It is the same Fuckwit that stood at Fort and Quadra streets, near the #6 bus stop last year, reading a book for some five minutes, this at the intersection where pedestrians would ordinarily wait to cross with the traffic controls. One sick asshole to say the least, who likes "popping up" at 0700h or so on Saturdays. Go figure.
06-12-2011
1050h
Sunday, a day off; I set the alarm for 0730h and somehow the switch got pushed back in the night and I awoke at 0830h for a 9.5 hour sleep, absurd when one considers that my needed sleep time is 7 to 8 hours and all sleep curtailment has no detrimental effect. I did a nut shave last night and also shaved my legs, the latest in imposed personal care that seems important for the perps as we finally get some sunny weather, though not yet arranged for me to get my legs tanned. The perps like to have me get tanned by various sequences; back, then shaved front through the Tan-Through shirt, then arms, and now hands this past week, when attending to flower cutting, as it was best without gloves. The perps keep telling me to get ready for having my ass crack waxed, something I have never done before.
A bedsheet laundering this morning, having to go to the 7th floor as the 6th floor dryer hasn't been working properly for some three weeks and the assistant manager is blowing me off, even if I tell him the clothes are steamed, not dried, and I have seen it happen to others' clothes too. And some more laundry room stalking now, the first in two years when I would routinely get someone else in there, even the coin collection person. Now, I get a native Indian pulling his just-dried clothes from the dryer ahead of me using it for my bedsheets. At least it saved me another trip up the stairs, though for some reason I backed off from removing his clothes that were all dry. And lo, if one shirt of his didn't leap off the pile he was holding and I retrieved it for him. The perps just love the extra interpersonal interactions, though in small discrete doses.
Other ongoing games in the prior weeks;
Off to deal with laundry, and time to call this four day long blog done.
And off for three days, with a doctor appointment tomorrow and an interview Tuesday.
Farm work labor today, starting out with having me cut flower heads off the everbearing strawberries, some 3 to 4 acres of plastic row covered rows. There were three of us on the job, one E. Indian woman and a Caucasian woman with psorias who I would term a colleague, as she and I talk on breaks as there isn't anyone else who is fluent in English to talk to. She tailed me to the daffodil farm last year, and looks to be rewarded with tuition and entry into a 9 month horticultural program starting in July. She worked at this farm last year, and seems to have a certain amount of relationship dysfunction in her life. She somehow manages to touch on many of the perps' topical themes too; from money management to jobs in the oil and gas industry and then even put my time card though the punch/print machine, after asking and me strangely giving her permission.
Then I got called off the strawberry flower cutting after for two hours, then onto herbicide application where four of us worked on guarding the same strawberries from overspray while the aisles between the strawberry rows were sprayed for the weeds which threatened to overwhelm them. There were two red colored 3'x8' plastic panels with a wood edge to stiffen the them, and I was lugging one panel while the herbicide applicator was between the two panels bordering the row edges, as held by the panel toting workers, me being on. These were the same strawberries I had a hand in planting some four weeks ago, now with leaves and begining to send out runners. One week later and the strawberry leaves would of been hanging over the row edges and intermixing with the weed leaves, and it would of been responsibly impossible to apply herbicide in that circumstance.
But the system we had, just fabricated, didn't quite work, so the panels had to be stiffened again, and in the interim we hoe-ed the prolific weeds between the pumpkins in a nearby field under the powerlines that were just emerging .
Later in the afternoon, the red plastic panels had been reworked, and we went back to the herbicide application until 1700h, when the boss' son declared it too windy to continue. So, as I agreed to extra working time to complete the herbicide job, I ended up hoe-ing the pumpkin weeds until 1830h. And it is important to note the color games going on; two red 3'x8' panels bounding the green weeds between them, and lo, if the pumpkin weeds that were most prolific weren't green on top with a red colored underside. When I would take the hoe to a line of weeds that was left upright by the tractor cultivator, why this green weed row (4" wide or so), was converted into red leaves, upended by the application my hoe.
Then to get a ride to the bus stop, I was to help for 10 minutes (as stated at first) with some of the furniture in the farm warehouse, as some had been reserved from last week in the house moving job of the boss' son. He didn't want some of it and it was kept at the farm warehouse for possible use by the Mexicans farm workers who are to arrive in late June. As it "turned out", one of the Punjabis wanted two of the beds, and sorted his way through the furniture for 40 minutes instead of ten like he initially said. He ended up breaking a 2'x1' mirror on one bed headboard in the process, but finally his deep metallic red colored pickup truck was loaded with a single bed and two light blue matresses. I got my ride to the bus stop, but as it was after 1800h there were much less buses running and a longer wait.
This was during game 5 of the Stanley Cup final series between Vancouver and Boston, and there were countless vehicular gangstalking formations, with man metallic red colors that were on duty then. Finally, when the bus came, some 20 passengers. For what I know about this town, it was totally bogus to have that many passengers on a bus heading into downtown simultaneously during a pivotal Stanley Cup hockey game. I had my bald heads, negroes, fat freaks all Unfavored, and clustered around me, and to top off the bullshit, a woman with black hair and unnatural red streaks in it sat next to me.
I get off the city bus freakshow, with my pink-red dressed accompaniment in front of me and walk one block to my apartment building. A seeming meeting had erupted across the street with 20 more freaks standing there; male long harirs, long bearded and seeming hippy throwbacks. I get to my building and somehow am too tired to walk up the six flights as I usually do, and take the elevator. And at the sixth floor, lo, if there wasn't a freak dude poised to enter the elevator as I was about to step out, this Fuckwit obstructing my egress. I tell him that I would like to get out and he didn't like to hear it, and he got cranked up about it as we were each headed opposite directions. What is it about this Fuckover town that elevator etiquette ignorant assholes are positioned at the doors before they open and obstructing my abitlity to get out? At least 12 obvious stunts in this building in 4 years, and this bullshit erupted in 2004 and hasn't stopped. I have worked here in prior years, Vancouver, Seattle, Everett, and used elevators in New York, Los Angeles, Paris and other places, and have never ever before seen the total insane obstructing bullshit about not letting passengers exit before they get out of an elevator that goes on in this Total Abuse Domination city. Even the Asians are doing this bullshit, ordinarily a most polite population who value manners more than most. Plus, this fugly Fuckwit had tattoos on the side of his neck, another Unfavored feature.
And continuing noise all evening after 2000h, Game 5 of the Stanley Cup finals with the near-local Vancouver Canucks winning; hooting and hollaring going on until at least 2300h. Then outside heavy duty vehicles (on a Friday night, sure), motorcycles and other loud mufflered vehicles (hotrods, bad mufflers etc.). Then they kept me up for hours in the night, and maybe I got some two hours sleep.
06-11-2011
A wacko morning outbound Saturday city bus trip, the 0707h #6 bus from downtown, and populated with at least 12 dudes, one of whom regularly gangstalks me on Saturday mornings on this bus. This same Fuckwit was approaching the bus stop, and comes toward me, stopping some 4' away, and inserting himself between the woman in bright red pants and me. He also gives me the stare, and this fits with the ongong public behavior pattern of having the Fuckwits walk (or run sometimes) directly at me and then divert or stop, enough to invoke a primal threat warning the perps like to consistently test me for. Then about ten minutes into the bus trip, with the skankl smelling dudes, this same Fuckwit gets up and pops the emergency hatch partially open to let some air into the rear of the bus. Like WTF; it is for an emergency and the windows are there for letting air in. I suppose they needed to test this plastic panel in a different orientation while travelling on the mobile gangstalker platform. This same Fuckwit came at me at a different bus stop one morning, sitting next to me for some curious reason, and I got up and stood elsewere, as this Fuckwit creeped me out. It is the same Fuckwit that stood at Fort and Quadra streets, near the #6 bus stop last year, reading a book for some five minutes, this at the intersection where pedestrians would ordinarily wait to cross with the traffic controls. One sick asshole to say the least, who likes "popping up" at 0700h or so on Saturdays. Go figure.
06-12-2011
1050h
Sunday, a day off; I set the alarm for 0730h and somehow the switch got pushed back in the night and I awoke at 0830h for a 9.5 hour sleep, absurd when one considers that my needed sleep time is 7 to 8 hours and all sleep curtailment has no detrimental effect. I did a nut shave last night and also shaved my legs, the latest in imposed personal care that seems important for the perps as we finally get some sunny weather, though not yet arranged for me to get my legs tanned. The perps like to have me get tanned by various sequences; back, then shaved front through the Tan-Through shirt, then arms, and now hands this past week, when attending to flower cutting, as it was best without gloves. The perps keep telling me to get ready for having my ass crack waxed, something I have never done before.
A bedsheet laundering this morning, having to go to the 7th floor as the 6th floor dryer hasn't been working properly for some three weeks and the assistant manager is blowing me off, even if I tell him the clothes are steamed, not dried, and I have seen it happen to others' clothes too. And some more laundry room stalking now, the first in two years when I would routinely get someone else in there, even the coin collection person. Now, I get a native Indian pulling his just-dried clothes from the dryer ahead of me using it for my bedsheets. At least it saved me another trip up the stairs, though for some reason I backed off from removing his clothes that were all dry. And lo, if one shirt of his didn't leap off the pile he was holding and I retrieved it for him. The perps just love the extra interpersonal interactions, though in small discrete doses.
Other ongoing games in the prior weeks;
- limiting my use of combs and hairbrushes with my hair falling into place when wet, going on for two months now,
- variable sunlight games; "forgetting" to put my sunblock on at 1000h break, and 1230h lunchtime instead,
- newfound "courage" to expose/tan my torso at lunch now, this seeming inhibition no more, even if 10 lb heavier than I thought (learned last night; no weight loss when starting this farm labor job in mid-May),
- various combinations of clothes and skin; some getting tanned later in the day (e.g. after removing my watch), some getting sunblock on it and other areas not ("forgetting" to apply to all of me that is exposed in one application), and
- wearing the tan-through shirt some days and not others, plus this shirt and a Capilene shirt of the same color are both modified by the perps to have color variability they didn't have before,
- stringing noises together in a seamless sequence; an overhead clunk (to 12" thick of floor-ceiling concrete), the the clatter of a small item being dropped and then an electronic ping noise; normally these strange noises are supplied as one-of, but now the perps are stringing them one after the other in a new escalation of this perversity.
Off to deal with laundry, and time to call this four day long blog done.
And off for three days, with a doctor appointment tomorrow and an interview Tuesday.
Saturday, August 07, 2010
Last Post Until Aug. 16, 2010
08-04-2010
2115h
And what is it about shoe repairs that has the perps so cranked up? First, they prematurely wore the outside of the heels down on my hiking/work boots, and that began a notion to get them repaired. And lo, if in the local alternative paper that I happened to pick up and read at the doctor's office two weeks ago, didn't have a story on local shoe repair and custom manufacturing stores/businesses. So, on with finding a place to get my boots repaired last week (same day) before starting the new farmwork job, and lo, if I didn't get skunked at two of the two locations I took my boots to. One was on holiday for one month, and the other was closed on Mondays. Yet another senseless round trip.
So today, over a week later, after twice intending to do so but running out of time, I check out G's shoe repairs for the opening hours to see if they were open to 1800h. No such luck, save a big vehicle noise when I found out I cannot take them in after getting off the bus after work. I go to another location on the way to the bus stop, and there again, was my "hanger around" (shiftless gangstalker dude) when I walked by to check on opening hours, which weren't posted. Twice in two days I have attempted to find the opening hours of S's store, and had the same shiftless Fuckwit loitering around.
So, on the bus, and some two blocks N, and who do I see jaywalking ahead of the bus, why Mr. G of above mentioned G shoe repairs for crissakes. Another arranged coincidence IMHO, all over getting my boots repaired, which is a protracted exercise for at least two weeks, and will likely run two more before I get them in. I just cannot believe the amount of total bullshit over the most commonplace activities.
Other dufus/Fuckwit loitering has been when depositing a check. The assholes prevented access to the ATM inside the bank, outside of bank hours, and there was two ATM outside. So.... I go to deposit my check, and a Fuckwit male gangstalker, as a dayglo dressed tradesman, is standing at his mid-grey pickup truck at the curb, doing nothing much. A few days later, the ATM inside is still blocked, and I deposit a check, and lo, same Fuckwit in dayglo standing there, still doing fuck all.
And my Cambodian farm worker confreres of the last farm, have resurfaced at the new farm I am working at. And are taking the same bus, which would be expected, as it is the only one going in that direction at that time of day. My beef was with their bus selection at the last farm. They took a different bus to get there by a more direct route, and then later took the bus I was on, a less direct route. This is a male/female pair, no romantic notions at all, and sit apart each time I see them. The latest is that one sat upstairs and the other downstairs on the double decker bus. They seem to be involved in some distance dependent Cambodian skin color interaction games, along the length of the bus, and now from upstairs to downstairs.
The latest is that the 45 min. clusterfuck/marshalling at the farm, is that the male Cambodian sits in the crew bus for most of the time, all by himself, and then she makes small chat next to me, some 30' distant, outside the bus, and with the constant orchestrated milling and parading going on around me. She doesn't usually talk to me, or even hang around me, but somehow was moved to do so when her compatriot sat in the crew bus the whole time for no know reason. As there are two crews, the weeders and the bulbers, we never know which is going to go in the bus first, so everyone stands around outside the crew bus, but for some uncharacteristic reason, the male Cambodian was compelled to sit in it for the entire time, save one featured exit for 30 seconds and then gets back in with his ridiculous wide brimmed white hat on.
08-05-2010
2040h
A run in with a regular Fuckwit on the floor at the elevator; the elevator rushing games are back. If nothing else spells orchestration, surely these elevator door way run-ins must. This is the Fuckwit I will call Smiley, as he smiles all the time when we pass in the hallway or the lobby downstairs. This time, his usual unlit cigarette dangling from his lips, he attempts to get in the elevator when I am exiting, the door still opening. I state that I would like to get by him, and he doesn't move, and makes out there is enough room, as there isn't. I have to wait untl the door fully opens, and then tell him that it is customary to let passengers out of the elevator first, before getting in. In every instance, these assholes don't move, but remain blocking egress from the elevator, and forcing me to go around them. The last spectacular jerkaround of this kind was a large native Indian dude who stayed right over the elevator-floor interface and didn't move, despite me telling him what elevator manners are for.
Then on the farm work, the tattoos are playing big. The "Tats", a he and she couple for the first time, and then at least six others on the crew, and countless ones in public. The Tats, had tattoos up their necks, and all over their forearm. She Tat even invaded my picking section for no reason but to appear deranged and expose me to her disgusting fine ink line tattoos all over her forearm. I fucking hate the sight of tattoos, and I don't understand why this is interest to anyone else but me.
The male skinheads are also playing big today; the bank teller I dealt with for yet more coin rolls for the laundry machines, another in the elevator, some new farm workers. Another of those Unfavored features I cannot stand the sight of, and yet they keep planting these fuckers for me to see in discrete short term views.
08-06-2010
2245h
No work tomorrow, a Saturday, as it will be wet according to the forecast. So... I can get some errands done, and one includes an upgrade to this PC, getting a U3S6 card put in to allow faster communication with hard drives. Getting ready for a solid state disk, maybe in two months or more. Asus didn't list my motherboard as a compatible device, and the Asus contact wouldn't tell me why, he just stopped responding to my enquiries. A crap shoot to some extent, but then again, possibly pointless adversity for no essential gain.
A full day of bulb picking, thanfully less tattoo acts on the crew today, but lo, if there wasn't two women with big tattoos on the bus on the way back. One raised her arm at least three times for the overhead air flow control, and lo, if it wasn't loaded with tattoos. Like I said, I fucking hate the sight of them, and I don't see why I should be hounded with tattoo acts everywhere I go.
On my return the this apartment, above mentioned Smiley managed to arrange himself at the elevator again, the second day in succession, cigarette dangling from his lips, but this time he backed off some and let me out. Surely one of those "wonder coincidences" as the bus was on time today, and 20 minutes late yesterday, so how did he know I was coming to arrange himself at the elevator doorway two days in a row on my return from farm work? And a fugly bright green shirt he had with a brown colored vest, changing the color of his clothing from yesterday, and maybe the brown matched the color of the tobacco in his cigarette, his signature prop.
So, a week without regular internet access, and blogging. There is a Vancouver and Vancouver Island TI meeting next weekend, and I will be attending, so it should be interesting as to what transpires. I have mentioned this in the past, but there seems to be some TI cooperation with the perps among this crowd, if the brown drink back and forthing is clue, and so I am in significant trepidation as to how much of this will be orchestrated. Overnight camping in the backyard as well, surely a perp highlight for the year, as they haven't allowed me to camp anywhere for over 10 years. (Not including sleeping in my vehicle, which was extensive in 2000 to 2002, before and after the onset of overt abuse.
2115h
And what is it about shoe repairs that has the perps so cranked up? First, they prematurely wore the outside of the heels down on my hiking/work boots, and that began a notion to get them repaired. And lo, if in the local alternative paper that I happened to pick up and read at the doctor's office two weeks ago, didn't have a story on local shoe repair and custom manufacturing stores/businesses. So, on with finding a place to get my boots repaired last week (same day) before starting the new farmwork job, and lo, if I didn't get skunked at two of the two locations I took my boots to. One was on holiday for one month, and the other was closed on Mondays. Yet another senseless round trip.
So today, over a week later, after twice intending to do so but running out of time, I check out G's shoe repairs for the opening hours to see if they were open to 1800h. No such luck, save a big vehicle noise when I found out I cannot take them in after getting off the bus after work. I go to another location on the way to the bus stop, and there again, was my "hanger around" (shiftless gangstalker dude) when I walked by to check on opening hours, which weren't posted. Twice in two days I have attempted to find the opening hours of S's store, and had the same shiftless Fuckwit loitering around.
So, on the bus, and some two blocks N, and who do I see jaywalking ahead of the bus, why Mr. G of above mentioned G shoe repairs for crissakes. Another arranged coincidence IMHO, all over getting my boots repaired, which is a protracted exercise for at least two weeks, and will likely run two more before I get them in. I just cannot believe the amount of total bullshit over the most commonplace activities.
Other dufus/Fuckwit loitering has been when depositing a check. The assholes prevented access to the ATM inside the bank, outside of bank hours, and there was two ATM outside. So.... I go to deposit my check, and a Fuckwit male gangstalker, as a dayglo dressed tradesman, is standing at his mid-grey pickup truck at the curb, doing nothing much. A few days later, the ATM inside is still blocked, and I deposit a check, and lo, same Fuckwit in dayglo standing there, still doing fuck all.
And my Cambodian farm worker confreres of the last farm, have resurfaced at the new farm I am working at. And are taking the same bus, which would be expected, as it is the only one going in that direction at that time of day. My beef was with their bus selection at the last farm. They took a different bus to get there by a more direct route, and then later took the bus I was on, a less direct route. This is a male/female pair, no romantic notions at all, and sit apart each time I see them. The latest is that one sat upstairs and the other downstairs on the double decker bus. They seem to be involved in some distance dependent Cambodian skin color interaction games, along the length of the bus, and now from upstairs to downstairs.
The latest is that the 45 min. clusterfuck/marshalling at the farm, is that the male Cambodian sits in the crew bus for most of the time, all by himself, and then she makes small chat next to me, some 30' distant, outside the bus, and with the constant orchestrated milling and parading going on around me. She doesn't usually talk to me, or even hang around me, but somehow was moved to do so when her compatriot sat in the crew bus the whole time for no know reason. As there are two crews, the weeders and the bulbers, we never know which is going to go in the bus first, so everyone stands around outside the crew bus, but for some uncharacteristic reason, the male Cambodian was compelled to sit in it for the entire time, save one featured exit for 30 seconds and then gets back in with his ridiculous wide brimmed white hat on.
08-05-2010
2040h
A run in with a regular Fuckwit on the floor at the elevator; the elevator rushing games are back. If nothing else spells orchestration, surely these elevator door way run-ins must. This is the Fuckwit I will call Smiley, as he smiles all the time when we pass in the hallway or the lobby downstairs. This time, his usual unlit cigarette dangling from his lips, he attempts to get in the elevator when I am exiting, the door still opening. I state that I would like to get by him, and he doesn't move, and makes out there is enough room, as there isn't. I have to wait untl the door fully opens, and then tell him that it is customary to let passengers out of the elevator first, before getting in. In every instance, these assholes don't move, but remain blocking egress from the elevator, and forcing me to go around them. The last spectacular jerkaround of this kind was a large native Indian dude who stayed right over the elevator-floor interface and didn't move, despite me telling him what elevator manners are for.
Then on the farm work, the tattoos are playing big. The "Tats", a he and she couple for the first time, and then at least six others on the crew, and countless ones in public. The Tats, had tattoos up their necks, and all over their forearm. She Tat even invaded my picking section for no reason but to appear deranged and expose me to her disgusting fine ink line tattoos all over her forearm. I fucking hate the sight of tattoos, and I don't understand why this is interest to anyone else but me.
The male skinheads are also playing big today; the bank teller I dealt with for yet more coin rolls for the laundry machines, another in the elevator, some new farm workers. Another of those Unfavored features I cannot stand the sight of, and yet they keep planting these fuckers for me to see in discrete short term views.
08-06-2010
2245h
No work tomorrow, a Saturday, as it will be wet according to the forecast. So... I can get some errands done, and one includes an upgrade to this PC, getting a U3S6 card put in to allow faster communication with hard drives. Getting ready for a solid state disk, maybe in two months or more. Asus didn't list my motherboard as a compatible device, and the Asus contact wouldn't tell me why, he just stopped responding to my enquiries. A crap shoot to some extent, but then again, possibly pointless adversity for no essential gain.
A full day of bulb picking, thanfully less tattoo acts on the crew today, but lo, if there wasn't two women with big tattoos on the bus on the way back. One raised her arm at least three times for the overhead air flow control, and lo, if it wasn't loaded with tattoos. Like I said, I fucking hate the sight of them, and I don't see why I should be hounded with tattoo acts everywhere I go.
On my return the this apartment, above mentioned Smiley managed to arrange himself at the elevator again, the second day in succession, cigarette dangling from his lips, but this time he backed off some and let me out. Surely one of those "wonder coincidences" as the bus was on time today, and 20 minutes late yesterday, so how did he know I was coming to arrange himself at the elevator doorway two days in a row on my return from farm work? And a fugly bright green shirt he had with a brown colored vest, changing the color of his clothing from yesterday, and maybe the brown matched the color of the tobacco in his cigarette, his signature prop.
So, a week without regular internet access, and blogging. There is a Vancouver and Vancouver Island TI meeting next weekend, and I will be attending, so it should be interesting as to what transpires. I have mentioned this in the past, but there seems to be some TI cooperation with the perps among this crowd, if the brown drink back and forthing is clue, and so I am in significant trepidation as to how much of this will be orchestrated. Overnight camping in the backyard as well, surely a perp highlight for the year, as they haven't allowed me to camp anywhere for over 10 years. (Not including sleeping in my vehicle, which was extensive in 2000 to 2002, before and after the onset of overt abuse.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Grining Elevator Greeter
2055h
What was so amusing for the Fuckwit that was about to pile into the elevator before I got out at 0655h this morning. Instead, he pointed me to the direction to get out past him, this grining figure of 6'4" (5" taller than me), and in a red shirt with a coffee cup in hand. My reaction, likely governed, was to stare at him like he was fucked out of his head, and I took off to leave this scene behind. It was the first time I have seen him, and I can only assume he was a Fuckwit entering the building at that hour when there is hardly anyone about.
Then onto the downtown trot to the bus stop where my daughter's former grade two Montessori Phillipino school teacher "happened" to arrive, placing a black and white checkerboarded bag next to me. I was glad to see her go, and she must of recognized me but didn't say anything. Another shill on the sick list.
Reading a newspaper became too much of a hassle on the bus, so I had to drop that habit after one day's attempt. The light filtering through the trees and buildings is rendered to be chopped and strobe like, not to mention the bus' lurching and swaying. End of that idea, and I suspect it wasn't mine in the first place.
I was on retail boxing at work (inside) until 1430h, then weeding, then outside for pumpkin picking and then back to weeding. I couldn't but help notice the perps kept on passing people or objects (vehicle mostly) in front of the sun to created momentary shade conditions, and then have me back in the sunlight again. The on and off sunlight games are of increasing importance it seems, and the perps continue to script good weather at this time of year. I don't particularly give a shit as to what their sunlit interests are, but what pisses me off is this constant strobe-like action, ensuring that dappled shade turns into a horrific stroboscopic nightmare.
This is going to be a brief posting as I need to get more sleep before waking up. No strange coincidences with the alarm this morning, unlike yesterday. The meat aerial games are still playing for whatever reasons the perps have.
Other wierd stuff was dogging me at the LD store with gangstalkers, and one woman in a purple sweater was leading me to the very aisle I was headed, and then we crossed paths again when she stopped, and again when I backtracked once she had moved on from the very item location I was planning to go. And just as I stepped back, why, she was directly behind me and I gently nudged into her, and she touched me on both shoulders in a steadying fashion. How she noiselessly got behind me to create this mild collision scenario I have no idea.
My bus riding pals that were around me all got off at the same bus stop as me, being a phalanx of Fuckwits to accompany me 60' to the crosswalk and then across the street. By then the fishing rod toting Fuckwit was also on me, holding his fishing rod horizonally 3' behind me when it was plain fucking stupid for all the people on the street. This is the third gangstalker fishing rod episode in a week, and it is getting tiresome.
That is all the news for today, much abbreviated to be sure, and only mentioning that the navy was out again to be seen patrolling with strange maser and plasmic emanations coming toward me with unerring repitition. It is the same for most aircraft, though the military ones seem to be even more maser prone than commercial ones.
Enough blathering and I am off to bed.
What was so amusing for the Fuckwit that was about to pile into the elevator before I got out at 0655h this morning. Instead, he pointed me to the direction to get out past him, this grining figure of 6'4" (5" taller than me), and in a red shirt with a coffee cup in hand. My reaction, likely governed, was to stare at him like he was fucked out of his head, and I took off to leave this scene behind. It was the first time I have seen him, and I can only assume he was a Fuckwit entering the building at that hour when there is hardly anyone about.
Then onto the downtown trot to the bus stop where my daughter's former grade two Montessori Phillipino school teacher "happened" to arrive, placing a black and white checkerboarded bag next to me. I was glad to see her go, and she must of recognized me but didn't say anything. Another shill on the sick list.
Reading a newspaper became too much of a hassle on the bus, so I had to drop that habit after one day's attempt. The light filtering through the trees and buildings is rendered to be chopped and strobe like, not to mention the bus' lurching and swaying. End of that idea, and I suspect it wasn't mine in the first place.
I was on retail boxing at work (inside) until 1430h, then weeding, then outside for pumpkin picking and then back to weeding. I couldn't but help notice the perps kept on passing people or objects (vehicle mostly) in front of the sun to created momentary shade conditions, and then have me back in the sunlight again. The on and off sunlight games are of increasing importance it seems, and the perps continue to script good weather at this time of year. I don't particularly give a shit as to what their sunlit interests are, but what pisses me off is this constant strobe-like action, ensuring that dappled shade turns into a horrific stroboscopic nightmare.
This is going to be a brief posting as I need to get more sleep before waking up. No strange coincidences with the alarm this morning, unlike yesterday. The meat aerial games are still playing for whatever reasons the perps have.
Other wierd stuff was dogging me at the LD store with gangstalkers, and one woman in a purple sweater was leading me to the very aisle I was headed, and then we crossed paths again when she stopped, and again when I backtracked once she had moved on from the very item location I was planning to go. And just as I stepped back, why, she was directly behind me and I gently nudged into her, and she touched me on both shoulders in a steadying fashion. How she noiselessly got behind me to create this mild collision scenario I have no idea.
My bus riding pals that were around me all got off at the same bus stop as me, being a phalanx of Fuckwits to accompany me 60' to the crosswalk and then across the street. By then the fishing rod toting Fuckwit was also on me, holding his fishing rod horizonally 3' behind me when it was plain fucking stupid for all the people on the street. This is the third gangstalker fishing rod episode in a week, and it is getting tiresome.
That is all the news for today, much abbreviated to be sure, and only mentioning that the navy was out again to be seen patrolling with strange maser and plasmic emanations coming toward me with unerring repitition. It is the same for most aircraft, though the military ones seem to be even more maser prone than commercial ones.
Enough blathering and I am off to bed.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Overnight Snow
2140h
I might not be the only TI that has a lurking suspicion that snowfall confers some benefits for the harassors, being that any unusal color and grey scale juxtapositions are often arranged locally in the form of small bits of paper, crumbs and lint around one's person. It was only a few inches of overnight snow and then it was gone by the time I got out of yoga at 1230h earlier.
But it was an important event, yoga as it turned out. On my way there they put a native Indian blocking my exit from the elevator in the lobby, and the asshole didn't even lapse into the "sorry" act they so often like to put on. The asshole was parked one inch from the opening door, and readied to disrupt my exit, and would move; I was obliged to go around the Fuckwit, swearing at the same time. I haven't had elevator rushing acts for over a year, but this was the all time rudest altercation yet. He was dressed in two tone of blue with a blue ballcap and was pissing with his mail at the time. Fucking beserk and patently provocative to say the least. Note that a negro pulled this same stunt in the same unyeilding manner some 18 months ago.
I had the usual consort of shiftless and hooded males around me all the way to yoga, and a few other vagrant types and a shopping cart adorned with two kinds of blue plastic waving in the wind. The perps don't even bother to put a vagrant with their shopping cart acts anymore, but just leave it at busy intersections, unattended.
And as it happened, a new yoga teacher, who is pleasant and capable, but not as good looking at the last one. I suppose someone in perpland figured I was getting too distracted or some such. Today's teacher was in an all olive drab outfit, almost military colors, with a small band of red underclothing showing at her midriff. I suppose she was doing green over red clothing testing for the perps. The latter party was very active in making all manner of extra "environmental" noises, much like this apartment but louder, for the most of today's yoga class. They increased the both the volume and the duration of these noises as well as the in-building clunking and door slamming.
On the way back, two intersections in succession I had vehicles proceeding into the crosswalk when I had the WALK signal to proceed; they just looked the other way and moved into the intersection pretending they didn't see me. Again, more fucking blatant public rudeness. I haven't seen anyone be so fucking disrespectful of pedestrians until this harassment started up, but two instances of this orchestrated bullshit back to back takes the cake. More fucking beserkness today.
Other goings on have been elevated provocations to keep pissing me off and get me to vocalize and then noisestalk me while I am complaining, if not screaming, at the assholes to quit pissing with my life. They won't let me pick up a pen, book or anything without extra five to ten seconds of fumbling each time. Other provocations have been to flick food around in the kitchen, foil my grasp, add extra noise into everything I do, and even wobble me sometimes, applying some extra-conventional gravitic fuckery to make me run into a door or door jam while attempting to pass though. Another related provocation to promote more rage-ification is to apply faked touches to me; I feel the sensation but there isn't anything that touched me, not even close (more than 6" away). When some objects are grasped or near my fingers they will also jab me in the fingertips just to create the sensation but without any conventional causality. Needless to say the harassment level has been hign today, and the assholes have been keeping this up for over a week now.
And tomorrow will be the day all the planted ideations of cessation of hostilities will be done with hopefully, and I can get back to "basic and endless abuse" instead of these incessant planted notions that are extremely unlikely to unfold. I have been through at least ten such bullshit stunts as this, but not to the same degree of the assholes polluting me with this for six weeks and for most of each day. It just doesn't make any sense for them to stop, as they claim that this is where they really want to get started, now that 100% mind control has been attained. Or, at least, that is the way it seems as the noisestalking, the usual tip off, only comes on when I accept the planted notions which are often, but not always (per above) much what I would of thought of myself. Noisestalking still accompanies anytime I see an object, color or person from the Unfavored demographic groups, usually when viewing web pages. Though the odd time I get this when on the street, but as there is so much else going on I don't pay much attention to the noise games.
Another increasing type of fuckery is for the perps to make a teeth clashing noise and sensation in my mouth, but without the teeth actually moving. This is getting more prevalent of late, and I noticed they pulled this immediately after shaking hands with the new yoga instructor earlier. This is another example of escalating the invasive abuse of late, and that isn't the only mouth/internal head noise that has increased in frequency of late (last three weeks).
I did my one hour cleaning job at the car dealership tonight and most of it went OK. In fact it was most curious when I let the boss man in when he came 10 minutes late that he said it will be a easy night, meaning only a light load of cleaning. Strange he would say that as how did he know, he just arrived. But it was true, as he was mostly done when I was ready to help him and it seemed that he should of been much more behind in getting the job done as he usually is when he comes late. Very strange to say the least.
2310h
Listening to the Dixie Flyers, bluegrass music tonight interspersed with overhead rumbling noise from my tormentors, the sickos that won't anything to go unruined.
I might not be the only TI that has a lurking suspicion that snowfall confers some benefits for the harassors, being that any unusal color and grey scale juxtapositions are often arranged locally in the form of small bits of paper, crumbs and lint around one's person. It was only a few inches of overnight snow and then it was gone by the time I got out of yoga at 1230h earlier.
But it was an important event, yoga as it turned out. On my way there they put a native Indian blocking my exit from the elevator in the lobby, and the asshole didn't even lapse into the "sorry" act they so often like to put on. The asshole was parked one inch from the opening door, and readied to disrupt my exit, and would move; I was obliged to go around the Fuckwit, swearing at the same time. I haven't had elevator rushing acts for over a year, but this was the all time rudest altercation yet. He was dressed in two tone of blue with a blue ballcap and was pissing with his mail at the time. Fucking beserk and patently provocative to say the least. Note that a negro pulled this same stunt in the same unyeilding manner some 18 months ago.
I had the usual consort of shiftless and hooded males around me all the way to yoga, and a few other vagrant types and a shopping cart adorned with two kinds of blue plastic waving in the wind. The perps don't even bother to put a vagrant with their shopping cart acts anymore, but just leave it at busy intersections, unattended.
And as it happened, a new yoga teacher, who is pleasant and capable, but not as good looking at the last one. I suppose someone in perpland figured I was getting too distracted or some such. Today's teacher was in an all olive drab outfit, almost military colors, with a small band of red underclothing showing at her midriff. I suppose she was doing green over red clothing testing for the perps. The latter party was very active in making all manner of extra "environmental" noises, much like this apartment but louder, for the most of today's yoga class. They increased the both the volume and the duration of these noises as well as the in-building clunking and door slamming.
On the way back, two intersections in succession I had vehicles proceeding into the crosswalk when I had the WALK signal to proceed; they just looked the other way and moved into the intersection pretending they didn't see me. Again, more fucking blatant public rudeness. I haven't seen anyone be so fucking disrespectful of pedestrians until this harassment started up, but two instances of this orchestrated bullshit back to back takes the cake. More fucking beserkness today.
Other goings on have been elevated provocations to keep pissing me off and get me to vocalize and then noisestalk me while I am complaining, if not screaming, at the assholes to quit pissing with my life. They won't let me pick up a pen, book or anything without extra five to ten seconds of fumbling each time. Other provocations have been to flick food around in the kitchen, foil my grasp, add extra noise into everything I do, and even wobble me sometimes, applying some extra-conventional gravitic fuckery to make me run into a door or door jam while attempting to pass though. Another related provocation to promote more rage-ification is to apply faked touches to me; I feel the sensation but there isn't anything that touched me, not even close (more than 6" away). When some objects are grasped or near my fingers they will also jab me in the fingertips just to create the sensation but without any conventional causality. Needless to say the harassment level has been hign today, and the assholes have been keeping this up for over a week now.
And tomorrow will be the day all the planted ideations of cessation of hostilities will be done with hopefully, and I can get back to "basic and endless abuse" instead of these incessant planted notions that are extremely unlikely to unfold. I have been through at least ten such bullshit stunts as this, but not to the same degree of the assholes polluting me with this for six weeks and for most of each day. It just doesn't make any sense for them to stop, as they claim that this is where they really want to get started, now that 100% mind control has been attained. Or, at least, that is the way it seems as the noisestalking, the usual tip off, only comes on when I accept the planted notions which are often, but not always (per above) much what I would of thought of myself. Noisestalking still accompanies anytime I see an object, color or person from the Unfavored demographic groups, usually when viewing web pages. Though the odd time I get this when on the street, but as there is so much else going on I don't pay much attention to the noise games.
Another increasing type of fuckery is for the perps to make a teeth clashing noise and sensation in my mouth, but without the teeth actually moving. This is getting more prevalent of late, and I noticed they pulled this immediately after shaking hands with the new yoga instructor earlier. This is another example of escalating the invasive abuse of late, and that isn't the only mouth/internal head noise that has increased in frequency of late (last three weeks).
I did my one hour cleaning job at the car dealership tonight and most of it went OK. In fact it was most curious when I let the boss man in when he came 10 minutes late that he said it will be a easy night, meaning only a light load of cleaning. Strange he would say that as how did he know, he just arrived. But it was true, as he was mostly done when I was ready to help him and it seemed that he should of been much more behind in getting the job done as he usually is when he comes late. Very strange to say the least.
2310h
Listening to the Dixie Flyers, bluegrass music tonight interspersed with overhead rumbling noise from my tormentors, the sickos that won't anything to go unruined.
Monday, January 05, 2009
Wheelchair Central
1435h
And what did I expect going the Victoria Disabilities Center? Obviously I wasn't allowed to anticipate this, and no doubt all the exposures to wheelchairs today (~10 at one location), as well as the physical infirmities of the psychologist (discussed later), and it was nearly two hours of it.
As I collect a disability payment each month, I am going through the grovelling exercise for getting grant money to take expensive software upgrade courses in the fall and next winter. This then meant that I have to go through the exercise of being "evaluated" (psychologically assesed for disposition and interests) as a precondition. And lo, if the psychologist herself wasn't in a wheelchair and also with some physical development disabilities that suggested dwarfism of a kind, but I am no expert in this field.
Even her hands were strangely compacted and bunched and I didn't want to look at them for the entire 1.5 hours she was 3' away from me on the other side of her desk. And of course she didn't let me get away with that, so she would raise her hand to her head where I kept my avoidant gaze. There was a observed instance of a maser mark on the wall behind her, and she would alternately move her head in front of it, or move her head to the side so it was directly visible. Regular readers will know that my apartment, and my once work sites, are given "treatment" of scuffs and other markings that seem to serve as a loci for masers or plasma beams to emanate from. It seems that the perps need these surficial imperfections to launch more focussed beams, and so they remotely mark up the walls, furniture and environs anywhere I will be for more than 30 minutes or so. These wall markings are also in the hallway of this and past apartment buildings, and are nearly identical, as if someone with oversized runners put a huge footprint some 3' up the wall.
And in case new readers are wondering what I am going on about, I live in an arranged freakshow world where the responsible party publically keeps me in a Fellini movie like scenario, constantly presenting the Unfavored (freaks and nonfreaks) in my proximity. The Unfavored would include wheelchairs and other disabilities, and it seems that the gangstalking is organized around these themes in order to stimulate (it would seem) long ago subconscious recollections that have no conscious awareness counterpart. I have no recollection of what happened for three years, age 2 to 5, and I can only assume that components of this freakshow were arranged at that time. And by presenting this freakshow reprise and others of the Unfavored, I assume the remote application of the perp's realtime neural investigations as to what I find subconsciously repugnant is thereby exposed. Little did I know that a band of sickos would be hounding me for recollections I did not know I had or colors that I don't like, now for 6.5 years.
Every so often they place a Favored demographic group member as part of the arrangements, which they did upon exit from the Disabilities center; an attractive blonde woman in a camel brown coat who followed the flat-top hairdo dude in the wide open coat with the same brown colored Burberry scarf. Dudes are on the Unfavored list, whether in a suit and tie, hoodie or other. Somehow, I have been assigned a new "reaction" to each occurence of this particular Unfavored demographic group, and the perps make sure that it happens. So it was a major dude flush of over 200 when I stepped out onto the street, with the one aforementioned Favored demographic group member. I had my execs, native Indians in red clothing and red backpacks, the red Anoraks in white hair, hoodie dudes, the waddlers and dawdlers and the rest of the panoply of Fuckwits that are gangstalking me every public moment. This was about 1245h, near the end of lunch hour, and it was a startling number of people for this section of downtown.
And I was even prepped for the event by staying at my place last night (Sunday), instead of going to my perp-abetting parents and then with this morning's hot water shutdown, the assholes prevented me from having a shower. I had to boil kettle water (from the kitchen) to use for shaving, and only my face and not the usual full frontal shave the perps have mindfucked into me as a new habit since 09-2007. This apartment building's hot water system has failed and they say a new one will come in three more weeks. And it is true that the last four places I lived also had water shutdown games as well, but none as long as this one will be. As the perps are obsessed with water and its properties and how it energetically interacts with us humans inside and out, it makes perfect sense that the assholes decided to pull a stunt to have me shave with water heated by a kettle on a stove and not from the faucet. I have done my camping time, where all these activities happen as normal in that context, but it would seem that the assholes have decided that it wasn't enough. I am also kept from drinking my one liter per day or whatever it is that we are supposed to intake. And swimming three times a week, one hour per practice, for some 15 years in a Masters swim club wasn't enough either, even if they paid for a new ozone treatment system at the pool.
I heard of a new forensic test on New Tricks where they can pinpoint bone mineralization to a certain locale, depending on water supply, assuming the subject didn't drink imported or home filtered water. I suppose, this might of been the perps "telling me" the nature of their investigation of water energetics problems. But I don't give a shit; they could of figured it out over five years ago if they had the fucking gumption to show their faces and undertake a cooperative investigation. But no, they take a major string of fuckups in my developmental years (a suite of traumatizations (it seems, see the Favored/Unfavored), plastics and other pollutant ingestion, and LSD testing (they tell me, and also replicate in visual form)), and then attempt to pursue their energetics detection agenda by taking the most difficult route possible by only utilizing remote methods and the fucking gangstalking swarms, maser and plasma inundation and mindfuck provocations to torment me into screaming rages. Every fucking day, and every moment of it, there is some reminder of nonconsensual human experimentation underway; masers, plasma beams, mindfucking me out of my habitual practices, applying pain (in the nuts and stings in my feet and head), and myriad other physical and mental incursions.
Anyhow, I am pissed that I have this greasy hair, and that the perps made sure it stayed on for this mornings events. And lo, if on the coincidence scale, the perps didn't script an online news story for me to encounter the topic of grease and how the good people of San Francisco are recycling spent home cooking oils. But there are more important things today.
Like another member of the Unfavored, a negro dude, pulls the elevator crashing stunt, attempting, and actually bargeing into the elevator (forget the manners even if reminded), while I am still in it and he was obviously was prepared in advance by waiting 6" from the opening side and didn't give a fuck as to being so ill-mannered. This public behavior bullshit only started in this fucking town in 2004, and about twice a month, I have these totally compliant Fuckwits barging in when it is customary all over the world, as well as being perfectly sensible, that it is prudent to wait until the passengers get out of an elevator before entering. I have lived and worked in numerous highrise buildings in many cities, including NYC, and have never seen so much fucking public bullshit over elevators until the harassment began.
2035h
Back from my one hour cleaning job tonight; the perps kept up the fuckery by hitting me with three back-to-back forced "forgets" late in the exercise; "forgetting" to empty the brown plastic mop pail (as I was putting on my coat, then had to take it off), "forgetting" to dump the recycle garbage in the recycle bins, forcing me to hide it under some black plastic refuse bags with the aid of a rake that "happened" to be at hand, and then "forgetting" the mop to take back to the mop pail. Just to think, the word that I used to describe my recall abilities today when the psychologist asked was "average". I had many mental gyrations to do in responding to her questions; before or after harassment began, which is the better answer. I wasn't always sure "myself", (read mindfuck scripted/imposed quandry), and sometimes asked. Invariably I got the "before" harassment answer as the baseline to respond to.
Other scripted fuckery on tonight's job was screwing me while putting the new mop heads on the mop handles; orange colored for my mop and blue colored for the boss man's mop. He "happened" to be nearby each time the imposed fuckery was playing out, making it out that it was a two man job when it wasn't, especially if they weren't helping. For the record, the mop was correctly placed one half of the mop on each side of the hold-down clasp and yet "somehow" the halves got tangled up when I wasn't looking.
The mophead colors seem to be of considerable importance to the perps, and it is especially notable that they sometimes have me working side by side in the showroom area with the boss man when finishing up the job, he with the green mophead, and me with the fugly orange colored one with the even worse dayglo orange handle. I also have my own smaller area to mop, and the boss man has been there when I was "learning" (read mindfucked into forgetting) and mopping some of my areas for the first time. There is a decided emphasis on the application of colors and their residual energetic effects, however that is expressed and determined.
I had my "fellow travelling" gangstalkers on me in both directions for the 10 minute walk to the job site, a car dealership. The same arrangement as the last three of them in the past two weeks; they "arrive" within some 20'-40' (other side of the road usually), walk in parallel, then "re-arrive" again one block later to tail me to the destination, often ahead of or behind me, but now on the opposite side of the street, a more discreet CIA style. (It isn't the CIA as I have done nothing political, diplomatic or arms trade/research sensitive in my life). When coming home tonight, the "fellow traveller", a term I use for the gangstalking Fuckwits who get on the same bus stop as I do, and then do the same in reverse when getting off, was on a bicycle in the ample bicycle lane (Yates St. for locals), and then when opposite me, he gets off, walks his bicycle to the sidewalk, and then rides on the sidewalk ahead of me, takes a turn where I was to, an then proceeds down the third leg of my intended walk. A bearded fuck in a brown duffle coat wasn't the most believable cyclist either, but stopping in mid block and getting off the cycle lane was totally beserk. I have never seen such deliberate bicycle tailing fuckery before.
Then the blatant bullshit wasn't done, even if I took the least travelled route. Another dude emerged from this now extra (gangstalker) busy liquor store and looked at me, I looked at him and was made to look away, and then after two seconds I was made to look at him and he was still staring at me. So I get controlled to be incensed just at the moment he stops looking at me, the perps extending my stare while he was looking elsewhere. I get at least one of these staring fucks a week, and I am sick fed up of it.
And my bookmarking activities are getting a boost from the Fuckwits; they now fill in the appropriate (usually) Bookmark folder for me and then crash it. Then I proceed to Bookmark again, and the dialog box has the folder already filled out as I had it, and then they will freeze it again when doing the actual bookmarking. Regular readers will know that the Fuckwit assholes (perps is way to cute) routinely noisestalk me everytime I bookmark a web page, be it for movies (over 25,000), commercial or personal sites, probably over 60,000 in all. They do the same for when I select books for my Amazon.com wish list, now over 1,000 books long. Likewise for Powell's Books and Amazon.ca.
And onto my fellow TI's and their scintillating blog postings today. A corker from Rachael O, On Gangstalking, (This Blog Will Always Be Kept Real) that describes the emotional and physical state of the TI's life with lucidity and perspicuity. This one should be framed, even gold embossed. I cannot throw enough superlatives on her blog posting today, and so I will leave it at that. My Blogger icons are all emptied and I cannot excerpt some of the exceptional lines for quotes.
And a very interesting expose from Bad Experiment of the person who brought the Tuskegee Syphilis study to our collective attention, the actions of Peter Buxtun. The Need for Conscience and Courage is worth a read, and also for the vicarious hope that someone will do the same for the TI community. (I am not hopeful for any white knights, especially with the example of Dr. John E Mack, a Harvard psychiatrist who stood up for the abductee community).
And in adding the above links in the two paragraphs above, I notice that the perps had me open the first in a new browser tab (what I normally do), and for the second link insertion, they fucked me into opening it in a new browser window, something I never do voluntarily. And all the while when making a URL copy and linking the overhead rumbling noise started up, and was of sufficient volume to penetrate the hearing protection (deep green plastic earmuffs) I was wearing while typing. And the latter activity is also making extra keystroke noise, again heard through the hearing protection. Never mind the constant din of gradually incremented noise in the earmuffs. Often, when I take them off, it is quieter.
2305h
A triple siren cascade while listening to Joyce Anderson; there were no vehicles that I could see, or lights for that matter, so another case of projected noise on top of music. As music listening is so intensely regulated by my mindkeepers, these must be prime neural investigation exercises.
Time to call this one done for the day, and hope the typo count isn't too high. My editing capabilities are often dithered.
And what did I expect going the Victoria Disabilities Center? Obviously I wasn't allowed to anticipate this, and no doubt all the exposures to wheelchairs today (~10 at one location), as well as the physical infirmities of the psychologist (discussed later), and it was nearly two hours of it.
As I collect a disability payment each month, I am going through the grovelling exercise for getting grant money to take expensive software upgrade courses in the fall and next winter. This then meant that I have to go through the exercise of being "evaluated" (psychologically assesed for disposition and interests) as a precondition. And lo, if the psychologist herself wasn't in a wheelchair and also with some physical development disabilities that suggested dwarfism of a kind, but I am no expert in this field.
Even her hands were strangely compacted and bunched and I didn't want to look at them for the entire 1.5 hours she was 3' away from me on the other side of her desk. And of course she didn't let me get away with that, so she would raise her hand to her head where I kept my avoidant gaze. There was a observed instance of a maser mark on the wall behind her, and she would alternately move her head in front of it, or move her head to the side so it was directly visible. Regular readers will know that my apartment, and my once work sites, are given "treatment" of scuffs and other markings that seem to serve as a loci for masers or plasma beams to emanate from. It seems that the perps need these surficial imperfections to launch more focussed beams, and so they remotely mark up the walls, furniture and environs anywhere I will be for more than 30 minutes or so. These wall markings are also in the hallway of this and past apartment buildings, and are nearly identical, as if someone with oversized runners put a huge footprint some 3' up the wall.
And in case new readers are wondering what I am going on about, I live in an arranged freakshow world where the responsible party publically keeps me in a Fellini movie like scenario, constantly presenting the Unfavored (freaks and nonfreaks) in my proximity. The Unfavored would include wheelchairs and other disabilities, and it seems that the gangstalking is organized around these themes in order to stimulate (it would seem) long ago subconscious recollections that have no conscious awareness counterpart. I have no recollection of what happened for three years, age 2 to 5, and I can only assume that components of this freakshow were arranged at that time. And by presenting this freakshow reprise and others of the Unfavored, I assume the remote application of the perp's realtime neural investigations as to what I find subconsciously repugnant is thereby exposed. Little did I know that a band of sickos would be hounding me for recollections I did not know I had or colors that I don't like, now for 6.5 years.
Every so often they place a Favored demographic group member as part of the arrangements, which they did upon exit from the Disabilities center; an attractive blonde woman in a camel brown coat who followed the flat-top hairdo dude in the wide open coat with the same brown colored Burberry scarf. Dudes are on the Unfavored list, whether in a suit and tie, hoodie or other. Somehow, I have been assigned a new "reaction" to each occurence of this particular Unfavored demographic group, and the perps make sure that it happens. So it was a major dude flush of over 200 when I stepped out onto the street, with the one aforementioned Favored demographic group member. I had my execs, native Indians in red clothing and red backpacks, the red Anoraks in white hair, hoodie dudes, the waddlers and dawdlers and the rest of the panoply of Fuckwits that are gangstalking me every public moment. This was about 1245h, near the end of lunch hour, and it was a startling number of people for this section of downtown.
And I was even prepped for the event by staying at my place last night (Sunday), instead of going to my perp-abetting parents and then with this morning's hot water shutdown, the assholes prevented me from having a shower. I had to boil kettle water (from the kitchen) to use for shaving, and only my face and not the usual full frontal shave the perps have mindfucked into me as a new habit since 09-2007. This apartment building's hot water system has failed and they say a new one will come in three more weeks. And it is true that the last four places I lived also had water shutdown games as well, but none as long as this one will be. As the perps are obsessed with water and its properties and how it energetically interacts with us humans inside and out, it makes perfect sense that the assholes decided to pull a stunt to have me shave with water heated by a kettle on a stove and not from the faucet. I have done my camping time, where all these activities happen as normal in that context, but it would seem that the assholes have decided that it wasn't enough. I am also kept from drinking my one liter per day or whatever it is that we are supposed to intake. And swimming three times a week, one hour per practice, for some 15 years in a Masters swim club wasn't enough either, even if they paid for a new ozone treatment system at the pool.
I heard of a new forensic test on New Tricks where they can pinpoint bone mineralization to a certain locale, depending on water supply, assuming the subject didn't drink imported or home filtered water. I suppose, this might of been the perps "telling me" the nature of their investigation of water energetics problems. But I don't give a shit; they could of figured it out over five years ago if they had the fucking gumption to show their faces and undertake a cooperative investigation. But no, they take a major string of fuckups in my developmental years (a suite of traumatizations (it seems, see the Favored/Unfavored), plastics and other pollutant ingestion, and LSD testing (they tell me, and also replicate in visual form)), and then attempt to pursue their energetics detection agenda by taking the most difficult route possible by only utilizing remote methods and the fucking gangstalking swarms, maser and plasma inundation and mindfuck provocations to torment me into screaming rages. Every fucking day, and every moment of it, there is some reminder of nonconsensual human experimentation underway; masers, plasma beams, mindfucking me out of my habitual practices, applying pain (in the nuts and stings in my feet and head), and myriad other physical and mental incursions.
Anyhow, I am pissed that I have this greasy hair, and that the perps made sure it stayed on for this mornings events. And lo, if on the coincidence scale, the perps didn't script an online news story for me to encounter the topic of grease and how the good people of San Francisco are recycling spent home cooking oils. But there are more important things today.
Like another member of the Unfavored, a negro dude, pulls the elevator crashing stunt, attempting, and actually bargeing into the elevator (forget the manners even if reminded), while I am still in it and he was obviously was prepared in advance by waiting 6" from the opening side and didn't give a fuck as to being so ill-mannered. This public behavior bullshit only started in this fucking town in 2004, and about twice a month, I have these totally compliant Fuckwits barging in when it is customary all over the world, as well as being perfectly sensible, that it is prudent to wait until the passengers get out of an elevator before entering. I have lived and worked in numerous highrise buildings in many cities, including NYC, and have never seen so much fucking public bullshit over elevators until the harassment began.
2035h
Back from my one hour cleaning job tonight; the perps kept up the fuckery by hitting me with three back-to-back forced "forgets" late in the exercise; "forgetting" to empty the brown plastic mop pail (as I was putting on my coat, then had to take it off), "forgetting" to dump the recycle garbage in the recycle bins, forcing me to hide it under some black plastic refuse bags with the aid of a rake that "happened" to be at hand, and then "forgetting" the mop to take back to the mop pail. Just to think, the word that I used to describe my recall abilities today when the psychologist asked was "average". I had many mental gyrations to do in responding to her questions; before or after harassment began, which is the better answer. I wasn't always sure "myself", (read mindfuck scripted/imposed quandry), and sometimes asked. Invariably I got the "before" harassment answer as the baseline to respond to.
Other scripted fuckery on tonight's job was screwing me while putting the new mop heads on the mop handles; orange colored for my mop and blue colored for the boss man's mop. He "happened" to be nearby each time the imposed fuckery was playing out, making it out that it was a two man job when it wasn't, especially if they weren't helping. For the record, the mop was correctly placed one half of the mop on each side of the hold-down clasp and yet "somehow" the halves got tangled up when I wasn't looking.
The mophead colors seem to be of considerable importance to the perps, and it is especially notable that they sometimes have me working side by side in the showroom area with the boss man when finishing up the job, he with the green mophead, and me with the fugly orange colored one with the even worse dayglo orange handle. I also have my own smaller area to mop, and the boss man has been there when I was "learning" (read mindfucked into forgetting) and mopping some of my areas for the first time. There is a decided emphasis on the application of colors and their residual energetic effects, however that is expressed and determined.
I had my "fellow travelling" gangstalkers on me in both directions for the 10 minute walk to the job site, a car dealership. The same arrangement as the last three of them in the past two weeks; they "arrive" within some 20'-40' (other side of the road usually), walk in parallel, then "re-arrive" again one block later to tail me to the destination, often ahead of or behind me, but now on the opposite side of the street, a more discreet CIA style. (It isn't the CIA as I have done nothing political, diplomatic or arms trade/research sensitive in my life). When coming home tonight, the "fellow traveller", a term I use for the gangstalking Fuckwits who get on the same bus stop as I do, and then do the same in reverse when getting off, was on a bicycle in the ample bicycle lane (Yates St. for locals), and then when opposite me, he gets off, walks his bicycle to the sidewalk, and then rides on the sidewalk ahead of me, takes a turn where I was to, an then proceeds down the third leg of my intended walk. A bearded fuck in a brown duffle coat wasn't the most believable cyclist either, but stopping in mid block and getting off the cycle lane was totally beserk. I have never seen such deliberate bicycle tailing fuckery before.
Then the blatant bullshit wasn't done, even if I took the least travelled route. Another dude emerged from this now extra (gangstalker) busy liquor store and looked at me, I looked at him and was made to look away, and then after two seconds I was made to look at him and he was still staring at me. So I get controlled to be incensed just at the moment he stops looking at me, the perps extending my stare while he was looking elsewhere. I get at least one of these staring fucks a week, and I am sick fed up of it.
And my bookmarking activities are getting a boost from the Fuckwits; they now fill in the appropriate (usually) Bookmark folder for me and then crash it. Then I proceed to Bookmark again, and the dialog box has the folder already filled out as I had it, and then they will freeze it again when doing the actual bookmarking. Regular readers will know that the Fuckwit assholes (perps is way to cute) routinely noisestalk me everytime I bookmark a web page, be it for movies (over 25,000), commercial or personal sites, probably over 60,000 in all. They do the same for when I select books for my Amazon.com wish list, now over 1,000 books long. Likewise for Powell's Books and Amazon.ca.
And onto my fellow TI's and their scintillating blog postings today. A corker from Rachael O, On Gangstalking, (This Blog Will Always Be Kept Real) that describes the emotional and physical state of the TI's life with lucidity and perspicuity. This one should be framed, even gold embossed. I cannot throw enough superlatives on her blog posting today, and so I will leave it at that. My Blogger icons are all emptied and I cannot excerpt some of the exceptional lines for quotes.
And a very interesting expose from Bad Experiment of the person who brought the Tuskegee Syphilis study to our collective attention, the actions of Peter Buxtun. The Need for Conscience and Courage is worth a read, and also for the vicarious hope that someone will do the same for the TI community. (I am not hopeful for any white knights, especially with the example of Dr. John E Mack, a Harvard psychiatrist who stood up for the abductee community).
And in adding the above links in the two paragraphs above, I notice that the perps had me open the first in a new browser tab (what I normally do), and for the second link insertion, they fucked me into opening it in a new browser window, something I never do voluntarily. And all the while when making a URL copy and linking the overhead rumbling noise started up, and was of sufficient volume to penetrate the hearing protection (deep green plastic earmuffs) I was wearing while typing. And the latter activity is also making extra keystroke noise, again heard through the hearing protection. Never mind the constant din of gradually incremented noise in the earmuffs. Often, when I take them off, it is quieter.
2305h
A triple siren cascade while listening to Joyce Anderson; there were no vehicles that I could see, or lights for that matter, so another case of projected noise on top of music. As music listening is so intensely regulated by my mindkeepers, these must be prime neural investigation exercises.
Time to call this one done for the day, and hope the typo count isn't too high. My editing capabilities are often dithered.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Another Run Down Attempt
1440h
That is, if I hadn't stopped walking when crossing a side street, I would have had my legs taken out. I was on my way to yoga, and in mid-street walking across a sidestreet that meets a main thoroughfare, an uncontrolled crossing. The driver had had seen me, but made the left turn in any event, a swooping wide arc that put her vehicle into the opposite lane even while looking at me in her way, not bothering to stay in right hand drive mode and go behind me. I get at least one of these a week, and today was the most egregious. A granny driver, cum operative I suspect, and she wasn't too surprised about the whole deal. But as I was the first student to arrive at yoga when I am nearly always the last one, no matter how early I come, at least one of the four women who came later just might have been in morphed over form as the driver, and then get transformed in shape, face and hair appearance to participate in yoga. All to have me get excited over being run down with a white vehicle, only a short block from the yoga venue. The perps had me yell at the woman driver, the same stock (or stalk?) phrase I am saddled with at my apartement, "what are you doing?". I distinctly felt myself being compelled to say this, as I never make a public exhibition of myself no matter what.
If that wasn't strange enough, one of the yoga class participants "decided" to set up their mat directly behind me, that being this ditzy UK accented "bread stalker" woman. She was the one waving a loaf of bread in a plastic bag to the class members about six months ago, offering it to us and saying that she had too much bread. And she comes so infrequently that no one knew her, so it is most odd IMHO to be offering free groceries to class members after the class. Today, she got into further strangeness by cleaning her mat before the class started, (for the noise I suspect) and keeping 2' of paper towel on her mat the entire time. And then orienting her mat to point toward the instructor like everyone else does also wasn't done, but instead, she had her mat at right angles to mine, after forcing me to move mine, per instructor's request. Talk about a total disruptor, and being the Fuckwit du Jour.
And the woman class member who said she was going to spend the winter in Arizona "next weeK" came back again. She has said her goodbyes twice now, and there she was again. She too had to augment this strange behavior of having paper towel over her yoga mat, making it one behind me (above woman), and this latter woman in front of me, behind the instructor. Both had the same deep burgundy colored yoga mat, and who knows, perhaps they were morphovers of two regulars who weren't there today. The yoga class was good, and looking at the dishy instructor was even better.
After the above mentioned driving the vehicle in my path stunt, the next block had another interesting cluster of gangstalkers, a multicultural tour if you will. At least 10 persons walking in a group of various races; Asians, Caucasians and a negro. They were about 30' ahead of me in a loose cluster, maybe 10' long. As soon as I got close they stopped and some walked in the opposite direction toward me, pretending to look at something down the street, the usual "look at nothing" act. In the course of this, they all ended up strung out in file, and some doing the sidewalk block jerkaround, and pretending to be considerate at the last second and got out of my way. I find these "walking groups" to be most odd, especially in residential areas, and even more odd is how they can coordinate their behavior to adopt more perp desireable configurations, being strung out in file. That was the final rude stunt before I got to the yoga venue, noting that they recently had (within the week) new asphalt paving down on their parking area, and new line painting as well. Regular readers will know of the perps ongoing obsession over asphalt and petroleum products, and this was just another, "happening" outside the yoga classroom.
I don't know always why the perp get into intensified wierdness with extra disruptive Fuckwits in public, but I suspect that wearing my new Sugoi shirt today just might have been the exciting part for them. Though, it is mostly black colored with some mid-grey panels under my arms, the very kind of color combinations and color placement that the perps like for their own gangstalkers. I also did my laundry earlier today, before heading out to yoga, and perhaps there were some residual energetics associated with that activity which the perps were attempting to detect by remote means. Regular readers and most TI's will know that the perps have an obsession over laundry, and even have my out-of-town brother owning and running two commercial laundries. Naturally, they get into other stunts like introducing excessive lint to force relaundering the same clothes, or at least, a subset of interest. I had to get two items drycleaned to finally get the lint off them some three weeks ago.
1630h
I made a 10 minute round trip to get my altered new underwear picked up. These are the storied ones that I was compelled to get via Sierra Trading Post, a discount clothing, outdoor and home accessories store. But as they are high waisted, some 7", I had them altered to remove 2.5" and the waistband put back on. It was $10 per pair, and lo, if she didn't run out of black thread and have to use an olive green on the inside of one pair. I was gangstalked up the asshole nearly on this junket; an elevator buddy, then two outside the apartment, then three converging from three different directions and then "hanging out" together by jaywalking ahead of me. Once I was following them some 60' back, why they split apart with one reversing his path in parallel to meet his buddy jaywalking and then the two of them reversed direction and paralleled me, they still on the street. Another of the threesome stayed in place before they split apart, and the lastmost of the threesome kept walking onward. I had another two of them on me in climing one flight of stairs, and was finally inside the alterations shop. I have never seen such a disparate group act in such a coordinated manner, engaging in their buzzing around me.
When exiting the alterations shop I had another two on me, one tailing, the other oncoming up the stairs in LH drive mode again. Then at least three more before I got to the intersection, and then another two weirds coming at me before I got to my apartment. At the door was a couple who were entering the building, and once at the door, why a weird plus another from a few days ago "happened" to be returning from a garbage trip owing to the garbage chute being "broken", so I had two couples on me, one ahead and one behind. The first couple held the elevator for me, and the tail elected to visit his mailbox instead. So, when I was about to get out, why, and elevator rusher was coming at me, an operative that doesn't respect normal elevator etiquette of letting any passengers out beforet hey get in. This fucker was some 6" from me when I passed by getting out of the elevator while he was getting in, and most strangely he was looking elsewhere in some kind o zombie mode. I was glad to get back after all that, and lo, if the sirens didn't start up when pulling the new underwear from the bag and folding them. Never has there been so much attention to freaking underwear before, and these ones of an acrylic fabric are superior to the cotton kind as they don't get soggy when working out.
The alterations shop kept the spare fabric from the underwear, and she did ask me if I wanted it and said no. Though I am sure that was the perps' need, but whatever, I would throw it out in any event. All the regular undewear has been pitched in the garbage, and it will no doubt "mellow" for a week or so before it gets taken out. The alterations seamstress did return the original vinyl packaging with the cardboard inserts, and I am sure this was important for some reason too, given the perp's obsession with plastics, and especially PVC.
The visitation to get my underwear alterations was the second trip there today, as it "happened" she did not take debit cards when I stopped by after yoga class, so I had to return with a check which was OK. It was then she showed me the job she did, and it looked very professional, just as if they had been made that way, apart from the one olive green stitch on the inside of one pair. For the last two months the perps have being playing extensive erection games in the night, while wearing one pair of the older set of the same kind and color of underwear. I assume that they will continue these games in the night, just with the altered underwear in place. I have no idea as to what this is about, and perhaps the perp-given term for an erection, "meat aerial", has some relevance. Who knows, and me least of all.
1725h
I got an electric like shock to my left foot while viewing a picture of Angelina Jolie in a fim role as part of the promotional images. (Wasn't fleshy). She was in a coat and a hat for chrissakes, and the assholes gave me this shock in my foot, then raised my leg to have the knee contact and move the keyboard tray and keyboard. They kept at it for a few seconds longer, still continuing with the shock treatment. That created some yelling at the assholes, though I don't ever expect that they listen to me, it is just that they want me to vocalize, using the same tired script they have given me for some years now.
The recruiting activities went south today; the recruiter from Edmonton hasn't emailed or phoned, and the outfit to whom I sent my resume yesterday didn't reply to my query when the spoofed webpage didn't appear to take my application. The latter being the second time this has "happened" in town, now two for two.
2000h
Another round of ranting at the online games the perps are up to. It is resume sabotage time again, and they continue to spoof the webpages, eliminate command buttons, and keep sucking needed information out of the entry page, all to create yet more go-arounds in filling all the desired fields. Another trick was to piss with the error trapping software by having all fields as erroneous when there would of only been a few at best. And they even put a resume online for me back in August to create even more contention as I was attempting to upload anew. Someone, put a private resume in Monster.ca under my email address on Aug. 10, and then had a resume from October inserted. Some trick that, as I didn't get going on the resume thing until after Sept. 22, and I had to get it from the stack of diskettes that I have, and to get a USB 3.5" diskette reader to do so. Freaking bizarre, and it all seemed to be about making me go through at least three rounds of attempted resume upload and/or update to then "find" that I (they, in fact), had already registered back in August. As always, I got plenty of noisestalking while entering my personal details; overhead pounding, hallway voices, outside road traffic noise and the usual suspects.
2220h
I am reading Carissa Conti's second book, Chasing Phantoms, (http://in2worlds.net/ChasingPhantoms.pdf) and it very interesting that hers, and other abductees have many common experiences. Check it out, and buy it if you can. Me, this is one broke month and no work to speak of, only these promising leads and then no communication. I get to try another round tomorrow, actually meeting in a casual labor office.
While reading Chasing Phantoms I had the earmuffs on to keep out these faint noises the perps like to annoy me with, and at a certain confluence when she referenced greys, meaning alien entities, there was an additional confluence of noises at that point. An overhead thudding noise made it through the hearing protection, another clunk from the kitchen and a forced yawn at that point.
Time to call this one done for the day; I see my Blogger editor commands have been blanked out again, hence no links being added like I planned.
That is, if I hadn't stopped walking when crossing a side street, I would have had my legs taken out. I was on my way to yoga, and in mid-street walking across a sidestreet that meets a main thoroughfare, an uncontrolled crossing. The driver had had seen me, but made the left turn in any event, a swooping wide arc that put her vehicle into the opposite lane even while looking at me in her way, not bothering to stay in right hand drive mode and go behind me. I get at least one of these a week, and today was the most egregious. A granny driver, cum operative I suspect, and she wasn't too surprised about the whole deal. But as I was the first student to arrive at yoga when I am nearly always the last one, no matter how early I come, at least one of the four women who came later just might have been in morphed over form as the driver, and then get transformed in shape, face and hair appearance to participate in yoga. All to have me get excited over being run down with a white vehicle, only a short block from the yoga venue. The perps had me yell at the woman driver, the same stock (or stalk?) phrase I am saddled with at my apartement, "what are you doing?". I distinctly felt myself being compelled to say this, as I never make a public exhibition of myself no matter what.
If that wasn't strange enough, one of the yoga class participants "decided" to set up their mat directly behind me, that being this ditzy UK accented "bread stalker" woman. She was the one waving a loaf of bread in a plastic bag to the class members about six months ago, offering it to us and saying that she had too much bread. And she comes so infrequently that no one knew her, so it is most odd IMHO to be offering free groceries to class members after the class. Today, she got into further strangeness by cleaning her mat before the class started, (for the noise I suspect) and keeping 2' of paper towel on her mat the entire time. And then orienting her mat to point toward the instructor like everyone else does also wasn't done, but instead, she had her mat at right angles to mine, after forcing me to move mine, per instructor's request. Talk about a total disruptor, and being the Fuckwit du Jour.
And the woman class member who said she was going to spend the winter in Arizona "next weeK" came back again. She has said her goodbyes twice now, and there she was again. She too had to augment this strange behavior of having paper towel over her yoga mat, making it one behind me (above woman), and this latter woman in front of me, behind the instructor. Both had the same deep burgundy colored yoga mat, and who knows, perhaps they were morphovers of two regulars who weren't there today. The yoga class was good, and looking at the dishy instructor was even better.
After the above mentioned driving the vehicle in my path stunt, the next block had another interesting cluster of gangstalkers, a multicultural tour if you will. At least 10 persons walking in a group of various races; Asians, Caucasians and a negro. They were about 30' ahead of me in a loose cluster, maybe 10' long. As soon as I got close they stopped and some walked in the opposite direction toward me, pretending to look at something down the street, the usual "look at nothing" act. In the course of this, they all ended up strung out in file, and some doing the sidewalk block jerkaround, and pretending to be considerate at the last second and got out of my way. I find these "walking groups" to be most odd, especially in residential areas, and even more odd is how they can coordinate their behavior to adopt more perp desireable configurations, being strung out in file. That was the final rude stunt before I got to the yoga venue, noting that they recently had (within the week) new asphalt paving down on their parking area, and new line painting as well. Regular readers will know of the perps ongoing obsession over asphalt and petroleum products, and this was just another, "happening" outside the yoga classroom.
I don't know always why the perp get into intensified wierdness with extra disruptive Fuckwits in public, but I suspect that wearing my new Sugoi shirt today just might have been the exciting part for them. Though, it is mostly black colored with some mid-grey panels under my arms, the very kind of color combinations and color placement that the perps like for their own gangstalkers. I also did my laundry earlier today, before heading out to yoga, and perhaps there were some residual energetics associated with that activity which the perps were attempting to detect by remote means. Regular readers and most TI's will know that the perps have an obsession over laundry, and even have my out-of-town brother owning and running two commercial laundries. Naturally, they get into other stunts like introducing excessive lint to force relaundering the same clothes, or at least, a subset of interest. I had to get two items drycleaned to finally get the lint off them some three weeks ago.
1630h
I made a 10 minute round trip to get my altered new underwear picked up. These are the storied ones that I was compelled to get via Sierra Trading Post, a discount clothing, outdoor and home accessories store. But as they are high waisted, some 7", I had them altered to remove 2.5" and the waistband put back on. It was $10 per pair, and lo, if she didn't run out of black thread and have to use an olive green on the inside of one pair. I was gangstalked up the asshole nearly on this junket; an elevator buddy, then two outside the apartment, then three converging from three different directions and then "hanging out" together by jaywalking ahead of me. Once I was following them some 60' back, why they split apart with one reversing his path in parallel to meet his buddy jaywalking and then the two of them reversed direction and paralleled me, they still on the street. Another of the threesome stayed in place before they split apart, and the lastmost of the threesome kept walking onward. I had another two of them on me in climing one flight of stairs, and was finally inside the alterations shop. I have never seen such a disparate group act in such a coordinated manner, engaging in their buzzing around me.
When exiting the alterations shop I had another two on me, one tailing, the other oncoming up the stairs in LH drive mode again. Then at least three more before I got to the intersection, and then another two weirds coming at me before I got to my apartment. At the door was a couple who were entering the building, and once at the door, why a weird plus another from a few days ago "happened" to be returning from a garbage trip owing to the garbage chute being "broken", so I had two couples on me, one ahead and one behind. The first couple held the elevator for me, and the tail elected to visit his mailbox instead. So, when I was about to get out, why, and elevator rusher was coming at me, an operative that doesn't respect normal elevator etiquette of letting any passengers out beforet hey get in. This fucker was some 6" from me when I passed by getting out of the elevator while he was getting in, and most strangely he was looking elsewhere in some kind o zombie mode. I was glad to get back after all that, and lo, if the sirens didn't start up when pulling the new underwear from the bag and folding them. Never has there been so much attention to freaking underwear before, and these ones of an acrylic fabric are superior to the cotton kind as they don't get soggy when working out.
The alterations shop kept the spare fabric from the underwear, and she did ask me if I wanted it and said no. Though I am sure that was the perps' need, but whatever, I would throw it out in any event. All the regular undewear has been pitched in the garbage, and it will no doubt "mellow" for a week or so before it gets taken out. The alterations seamstress did return the original vinyl packaging with the cardboard inserts, and I am sure this was important for some reason too, given the perp's obsession with plastics, and especially PVC.
The visitation to get my underwear alterations was the second trip there today, as it "happened" she did not take debit cards when I stopped by after yoga class, so I had to return with a check which was OK. It was then she showed me the job she did, and it looked very professional, just as if they had been made that way, apart from the one olive green stitch on the inside of one pair. For the last two months the perps have being playing extensive erection games in the night, while wearing one pair of the older set of the same kind and color of underwear. I assume that they will continue these games in the night, just with the altered underwear in place. I have no idea as to what this is about, and perhaps the perp-given term for an erection, "meat aerial", has some relevance. Who knows, and me least of all.
1725h
I got an electric like shock to my left foot while viewing a picture of Angelina Jolie in a fim role as part of the promotional images. (Wasn't fleshy). She was in a coat and a hat for chrissakes, and the assholes gave me this shock in my foot, then raised my leg to have the knee contact and move the keyboard tray and keyboard. They kept at it for a few seconds longer, still continuing with the shock treatment. That created some yelling at the assholes, though I don't ever expect that they listen to me, it is just that they want me to vocalize, using the same tired script they have given me for some years now.
The recruiting activities went south today; the recruiter from Edmonton hasn't emailed or phoned, and the outfit to whom I sent my resume yesterday didn't reply to my query when the spoofed webpage didn't appear to take my application. The latter being the second time this has "happened" in town, now two for two.
2000h
Another round of ranting at the online games the perps are up to. It is resume sabotage time again, and they continue to spoof the webpages, eliminate command buttons, and keep sucking needed information out of the entry page, all to create yet more go-arounds in filling all the desired fields. Another trick was to piss with the error trapping software by having all fields as erroneous when there would of only been a few at best. And they even put a resume online for me back in August to create even more contention as I was attempting to upload anew. Someone, put a private resume in Monster.ca under my email address on Aug. 10, and then had a resume from October inserted. Some trick that, as I didn't get going on the resume thing until after Sept. 22, and I had to get it from the stack of diskettes that I have, and to get a USB 3.5" diskette reader to do so. Freaking bizarre, and it all seemed to be about making me go through at least three rounds of attempted resume upload and/or update to then "find" that I (they, in fact), had already registered back in August. As always, I got plenty of noisestalking while entering my personal details; overhead pounding, hallway voices, outside road traffic noise and the usual suspects.
2220h
I am reading Carissa Conti's second book, Chasing Phantoms, (http://in2worlds.net/ChasingPhantoms.pdf) and it very interesting that hers, and other abductees have many common experiences. Check it out, and buy it if you can. Me, this is one broke month and no work to speak of, only these promising leads and then no communication. I get to try another round tomorrow, actually meeting in a casual labor office.
While reading Chasing Phantoms I had the earmuffs on to keep out these faint noises the perps like to annoy me with, and at a certain confluence when she referenced greys, meaning alien entities, there was an additional confluence of noises at that point. An overhead thudding noise made it through the hearing protection, another clunk from the kitchen and a forced yawn at that point.
Time to call this one done for the day; I see my Blogger editor commands have been blanked out again, hence no links being added like I planned.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Elevator Etiquette Degeneration
1345h
I have commented previously on the bizarre elevator etiquette that erupts around me since the harassment began in 2002. This has largely been in the form of a fuckwit attempting to barge in before I get out, and I let them know it by coming at them. I get temporarily "spaced out" to miss the all-important instant at which they enter, and am allowed to cognitively process the rudeness only after it has begun, usually when they are at the threshold of entering the door before it has fully opened.
Today, a fuckwit operative took this to new heights and entered the elevator BEFORE either of us, me and another "tenant" had exited. It is fucking outrageous to say the least. In other words, the gangstalking operative who barged into the elevator with the two of us yet to get out, had no idea as to whether the elevator was headed up or down (to the basement), as one of us could of stayed in it and continued on the elevator's intended journey. Maybe I am missing something, but I have taken elevators to work everyday for years in some big city locations, and I have never seen this orchestrated public rudeness around elevators before. Never mind the infrequent flakes that skip into the elevator as the door is closing on them with impeccable timing, contacting the rubber on each side of the door without it being triggered to re-open.
Other elevator follies today was a duffer placed in front of the door as it opened, asking me in sign language by pointing his finger down, as to whether that was the next direction it was to headed. How in the fuck am I supposed to know when that fact is readable from the elevator button lights (when they haven't been fucked with, which they weren't).
The first mentioned elevator rushing stunt was also augmented with a move-in scenario; furniture outside and in the lobby; more "wood stalking" as I see it. Earlier this week, when coming back from a ride in the yellow crew bus from farm work, they had the lobby filled with furniture, and the only route to the stairway, in lieu of riding the elevator with them, was taken by a reddish haired woman standing as part of the seeming moving party. I asked her if I could get through and she was fine with that, and it was no problem to slip through this narrow passage to take the six flights of stairs. Obviously it was some kind of constriction with a known quantity, a gangstalker who had been in place for who knows how long, over top of that very spot I was to pass through. A decidedly more calculated test it would seem. And when in the stairway, lo, if the dim lit area with the sticky floor and newspapers stuck to it of six weeks ago was't still there. Some kind of "walking on newspapers glued with red stain to a grey concrete painted floor" test. A likely elaboration and calibration with the prior "walking over the location of where a red haired woman was standing" test. All too clever.
1710h
A second siren cascade has just erupted as I add to the above paragraph, and begin this. The above elevator stunt occured on my way out to yoga, the first class in three weeks. These resumptions of routines after a hiatus are prime gangstalking moments, and the freakshow that circulates around me was out in abundance. And too, the vehicular gangstalking; "my" most frequent regular gangstalking vehicle, the Coca Cola delivery truck in red and white with unpainted aluminum surfaces was outside, adjacent to the exit to this apartment building, parked to make a "delivery" at the convenience store. I cannot count the number of bogus street parking arrangements I have seen this particular vehicle participating, but it is nothing but persistent. And as the perps have reminded me about this vehicle, think of all that brown colored liquid inside bottles and cans, behind the red, white and metallic finished livery of the vehicle. Need I add that t he perps are constantly putting reds in front of browns, vice versa and all manner of combinations and permutations of fabric, color variants, skin tone of the wearer (gangstalker), and then with vehicles as well.
Then onto yoga, and even with being five minutes early I was the last one to arrive, and the new instructor had arranged herself to be in my old spot. And to no surprise, she was backlit by the stained glass windows, this being a chapel. For the session her face and skin wasn't well lit, and I am sure there was some subtle extra plasmic fuckery going on as well, as the perps have been messing with so many of my online and reallife situations to ensure certain skintones and gangstalkers are presented in dim or backlit situations. (And some obvious plasma beams around her at the beginning of the class). I suspect this is to impair my cognitive ability to take in the person's look in one glance, or perhaps, to de-emphasize the person's features momentarily.
But that didn't stop me from admiring her exquisite form and sensual elegance; she is a dancer, and is about 5'9", about 30 or so, and has not a stitch of extra weight on her. And no tattoos, something the perps have been chasing me with for the past three weeks, and I get some relief thankfully. And also, she is taking us back to Ashtenga yoga, one that is more active and challenging. I lamented in this blog about the past instructor taking us on a Pranayama (breathing) focus as I wanted more activity, and less talking about my breathing for chrissakes.
Well anyway, she is a bright light when all around is dark (or dimmed down), to quote from Monty Python. And it is once per week, and it seems that this will be a regular Thursday session for the forseeable future.
And I swear I saw someone very much like the above yoga instructor when I was walking back from gym today, earlier than usual as I will explain below. I had just crossed the street of one way traffic at the crosswalk, and a woman of the same height, build, comportment and age was walking toward me after I turned 90 degrees to head to the sidewalk after the crosswalk at this Y junction of a two-way street splitting into two one way streets in opposite directions. She was wearing black and under a black umbrella, and again, her face was in a dim light, and it wasn't the same as the above yoga instructor. And in true gangstalker style, she was making some kind of mouth movements, her tongue licking her lips at the moment I looked at her, and she looked at me at the same time. It was all over in less than a second, and I would not count this as staring in any way. It was an odd place for a person to be walking at that time of day, about 1545h, as most downtown commuters take the bus to head the suburbs, where this location was in-between, in an neighborhood of apartments and condos. I would not be surprised if she was a morph-over of the yoga instructor, and I have no idea who the person was. The perps like to plant the notion that it is a morph-over at the moment of seeing the person, but in this netherworld that I live in, nothing is what it seems.
And I finally had it with the gym class, and it may have been my last one. I mentioned in past blogs how this class was an hour long, the first 30 min.in a free-format on the gym equipment, and the latter in a floor exercise room altogether. Then about two months ago they changed it such that selected classmembers were to spend the last 30 minutes doing exercises by themselves in the public area for warming up or down. This worked for a time as the number of individuals (read, gangstalkers) coursing around me was relatively few. Then today, two days before a long weekend in the summer, the put on plenty of extra gangstalkers, one component being The Men In Red Shirts, of increasing prevelance of late. There were five of them, all seemingly independent, as well as another six or so who were also working out. To make a long story short, I hate working out as if I am in a railway station or other busy public concourse. And I reckon the perps had this denouement long arranged, as the seed of not tolerating this new arrangement was planted from the begining.
Prior to the above, I was also being deliberately followed by dudes from one piece of equipment to the other; from mid-building to the glassed perimeter, and then another pair tag teamed me on the equipment. The entire gym class gangstalking has been getting more odious and brazen. Though I am not sure if the perps are done with me yet at that venue, as they had the gym built just for me as I read the timing of events. I started working out in public gyms since about 1994, and in the prior years to BOH, Before Overt Harassment (04-15-2002). This seems to be a preferred activity to aid the perps' objectives of remotely applied nonconsensual experimentation and study. And since the OB Rec. Center had a big re-build in 2003-4 to create a new gym wing attatched to the extant swimming pool when the assholes forced me back to Victoria, I am sure they are not done yet. But then again, the perps installed a 80' cell phone tower, (read, electromagnetic and other energies) close to my regular hiking route just for my last day of hiking when I had my vehicle. So who knows; spreading cash around isn't a problem. That they plan all this out years in advance is undeniable.
I did explain in a later phone call to the gym class coordinator's voice mail that I was not going to continue with the latter half public area workouts. Anyhow, this maybe the end of gym class, or perhaps there will be some kind of rearrangements to come. And no one ever told me as to why I was selected for this "transition group", or what that term really meant. And to add to the nonsense, at least one of the more ridiculous gangstalkers at the gym, the woman in a red sweater and red shoes in street clothing, just "happened" to be at the LD store when I stopped there on my return. But not in red this time, but in a puke brown outfit. Hilarious, as it is improbable.
1955h
It is bottle bashing time in the hallway; I don't know what the perp interest is exactly, but I was reading blog postings at the time, one about Arnold Schwartzneger's recent governmental stunts, none of which I have read about in the news. As always, my view of the world is highly sculpted along several parameter themes, and being kept clueless is one of them. I also call this FUD fucked, (Fear, Uncertainty and Doubt). I would give you the link, but my Windows cut and paste functionality is getting messed with, along with the Firefox right click command of copy link location. Try here, and go to the Schwartzneger posting. Its one of those blog postings that is plain confusing with a needed prerequisite of "you had to be there" to comprehend the entirety of it.
2040h
Another siren show while the earmuffs were on, "heard" through them no less, and my cue to take them off. This is at least the fourth siren cascade today. When walking to the gym earlier they put on two ambulances about three minutes apart, travelling in opposite directions when I was near the hospital. Totally ludicrous.
2115h
More fake insect creepy crawly sensations, this time on my right ear and earlobe. After the earlobe freak described in yesterday's blog posting, it makes me wonder if the perps aren't up to some kind of remote detection games that are focussed on earlobes. Dangling earings and studs in the earlobes just might be more useful to them in some way, much how they like to have metal studded garments on me (Levi jeans) or in my proximity (e.g. studded leather handbags). My daughter had a earstud backing that "somehow" got sucked into her earlobe and had to have it surgically removed. They found it there with an X-ray, and for some reason, my then wife wanted me to see the X-ray print that was borrowed from the doctor. I might of been out of town at the time it happened, and I didn't know about it until it was all over. This vignette has more questions than answers in light of what has followed since, that being the harassment onset and my ex's involvement from the get-go.
And another motorcycle noise tonight, as if the biker's bar had opened up a block away when there isn't one for at least five miles. Its not that kind of town, or at least, until the perps decided that total (unpleasant) noise management of my environs was to be applied. Translate the term "management" in this context to mean constant provision of vexing noises in both volume and frequency above any level of expectable normality or plausibility. And of note, the streets are still wet from the rain they brought on after my early departure from gym today. It is not an evening for a real biker to be out, though the perps did once set up a daytime motorcyclist in the rain, gingerly making a corner, to tell me in their bizarre demonstrative and covert way that there really are motorcyclists out in such inclement weather conditions. More bullshit.
The perps let me in on the fact that they do extensive gangstalking, or more accurately, post-event populating, of my walking and vehicle activities and routes. I only get to see the oncoming ambulatory gangstalkers in passing, but there is a good chance they follow my route from both directions for at least an hour or more afterward. The above speculation that my yoga instructor was in a facial-only morph-over may have been for much more than a few seconds of sight and eye-contact time; she may have been dispatched to take my walking route for some distance afterward. I know my vehicle path is extensively followed for a long time afterward with a long train of vehicles in varying configurations and formations based on vehicle color and type.
That I "figured this out" now, the above pondering of what the perps do after I pass by, now six years after BOH suggests this "realization" is entirely planted, and was likely even blocked from any kind of analytical consideration all this time. They never gave me the opportunity to think through all the research angles of the harassment that would make sense from their perspective. More FUD fucking. And more overhead concrete floor pounding as I re-read this.
It was the post-outing rain that came on that prompted this "speculation" that the perps were attempting to get a better remote read on my bioenergetics interactions with the concrete and asphalt of the sidewalks and road surfaces when I walked back from the gym. That they like to change up the weather, usually to bring on rain, after concluding an activity hasn't gone unnoticed. Hopefully I have conveyed these in past blog postings, or more like, long past postings as there has only been wet July weather this week only. Which suggests more of a wet summer if their current games persist. Noting that brought on more outside motorcycle noise, and as always, likely faked by some means of remotely projecting sounds to another location, something they have long done, but not always effectively. Until about 2005 I could tell that many of these projected noises were fake as they had a metallic ringing harmonic with them. Since then, they were able to defeat my noise authentication abilities, and that small realtime detection capability was forever lost.
2210h
Time to call this one done for the day; I have made many corrections and alterations to the above, replete with plenty of situational noisestalking. (Especially when I break a long paragraph into two, or insert a sentance by first dropping the latter portions to a new line temporarily to remove the visual clutter.) It is payday at the farm tomorrow, at the end of the day of course, and from the chat I have been meant to overhear, it is a very looney time. No end of weirds come out othe woodwork to pick up their pay, or at least to complain. It will be interesting, and too, that they did not arrange this the first payday, but had me miss it and get the check the next week.
I have commented previously on the bizarre elevator etiquette that erupts around me since the harassment began in 2002. This has largely been in the form of a fuckwit attempting to barge in before I get out, and I let them know it by coming at them. I get temporarily "spaced out" to miss the all-important instant at which they enter, and am allowed to cognitively process the rudeness only after it has begun, usually when they are at the threshold of entering the door before it has fully opened.
Today, a fuckwit operative took this to new heights and entered the elevator BEFORE either of us, me and another "tenant" had exited. It is fucking outrageous to say the least. In other words, the gangstalking operative who barged into the elevator with the two of us yet to get out, had no idea as to whether the elevator was headed up or down (to the basement), as one of us could of stayed in it and continued on the elevator's intended journey. Maybe I am missing something, but I have taken elevators to work everyday for years in some big city locations, and I have never seen this orchestrated public rudeness around elevators before. Never mind the infrequent flakes that skip into the elevator as the door is closing on them with impeccable timing, contacting the rubber on each side of the door without it being triggered to re-open.
Other elevator follies today was a duffer placed in front of the door as it opened, asking me in sign language by pointing his finger down, as to whether that was the next direction it was to headed. How in the fuck am I supposed to know when that fact is readable from the elevator button lights (when they haven't been fucked with, which they weren't).
The first mentioned elevator rushing stunt was also augmented with a move-in scenario; furniture outside and in the lobby; more "wood stalking" as I see it. Earlier this week, when coming back from a ride in the yellow crew bus from farm work, they had the lobby filled with furniture, and the only route to the stairway, in lieu of riding the elevator with them, was taken by a reddish haired woman standing as part of the seeming moving party. I asked her if I could get through and she was fine with that, and it was no problem to slip through this narrow passage to take the six flights of stairs. Obviously it was some kind of constriction with a known quantity, a gangstalker who had been in place for who knows how long, over top of that very spot I was to pass through. A decidedly more calculated test it would seem. And when in the stairway, lo, if the dim lit area with the sticky floor and newspapers stuck to it of six weeks ago was't still there. Some kind of "walking on newspapers glued with red stain to a grey concrete painted floor" test. A likely elaboration and calibration with the prior "walking over the location of where a red haired woman was standing" test. All too clever.
1710h
A second siren cascade has just erupted as I add to the above paragraph, and begin this. The above elevator stunt occured on my way out to yoga, the first class in three weeks. These resumptions of routines after a hiatus are prime gangstalking moments, and the freakshow that circulates around me was out in abundance. And too, the vehicular gangstalking; "my" most frequent regular gangstalking vehicle, the Coca Cola delivery truck in red and white with unpainted aluminum surfaces was outside, adjacent to the exit to this apartment building, parked to make a "delivery" at the convenience store. I cannot count the number of bogus street parking arrangements I have seen this particular vehicle participating, but it is nothing but persistent. And as the perps have reminded me about this vehicle, think of all that brown colored liquid inside bottles and cans, behind the red, white and metallic finished livery of the vehicle. Need I add that t he perps are constantly putting reds in front of browns, vice versa and all manner of combinations and permutations of fabric, color variants, skin tone of the wearer (gangstalker), and then with vehicles as well.
Then onto yoga, and even with being five minutes early I was the last one to arrive, and the new instructor had arranged herself to be in my old spot. And to no surprise, she was backlit by the stained glass windows, this being a chapel. For the session her face and skin wasn't well lit, and I am sure there was some subtle extra plasmic fuckery going on as well, as the perps have been messing with so many of my online and reallife situations to ensure certain skintones and gangstalkers are presented in dim or backlit situations. (And some obvious plasma beams around her at the beginning of the class). I suspect this is to impair my cognitive ability to take in the person's look in one glance, or perhaps, to de-emphasize the person's features momentarily.
But that didn't stop me from admiring her exquisite form and sensual elegance; she is a dancer, and is about 5'9", about 30 or so, and has not a stitch of extra weight on her. And no tattoos, something the perps have been chasing me with for the past three weeks, and I get some relief thankfully. And also, she is taking us back to Ashtenga yoga, one that is more active and challenging. I lamented in this blog about the past instructor taking us on a Pranayama (breathing) focus as I wanted more activity, and less talking about my breathing for chrissakes.
Well anyway, she is a bright light when all around is dark (or dimmed down), to quote from Monty Python. And it is once per week, and it seems that this will be a regular Thursday session for the forseeable future.
And I swear I saw someone very much like the above yoga instructor when I was walking back from gym today, earlier than usual as I will explain below. I had just crossed the street of one way traffic at the crosswalk, and a woman of the same height, build, comportment and age was walking toward me after I turned 90 degrees to head to the sidewalk after the crosswalk at this Y junction of a two-way street splitting into two one way streets in opposite directions. She was wearing black and under a black umbrella, and again, her face was in a dim light, and it wasn't the same as the above yoga instructor. And in true gangstalker style, she was making some kind of mouth movements, her tongue licking her lips at the moment I looked at her, and she looked at me at the same time. It was all over in less than a second, and I would not count this as staring in any way. It was an odd place for a person to be walking at that time of day, about 1545h, as most downtown commuters take the bus to head the suburbs, where this location was in-between, in an neighborhood of apartments and condos. I would not be surprised if she was a morph-over of the yoga instructor, and I have no idea who the person was. The perps like to plant the notion that it is a morph-over at the moment of seeing the person, but in this netherworld that I live in, nothing is what it seems.
And I finally had it with the gym class, and it may have been my last one. I mentioned in past blogs how this class was an hour long, the first 30 min.in a free-format on the gym equipment, and the latter in a floor exercise room altogether. Then about two months ago they changed it such that selected classmembers were to spend the last 30 minutes doing exercises by themselves in the public area for warming up or down. This worked for a time as the number of individuals (read, gangstalkers) coursing around me was relatively few. Then today, two days before a long weekend in the summer, the put on plenty of extra gangstalkers, one component being The Men In Red Shirts, of increasing prevelance of late. There were five of them, all seemingly independent, as well as another six or so who were also working out. To make a long story short, I hate working out as if I am in a railway station or other busy public concourse. And I reckon the perps had this denouement long arranged, as the seed of not tolerating this new arrangement was planted from the begining.
denouement –nounThere were some other oddities going on in the above circumstances, like the red fleece coated male who came to sit there, and then departed while I was changing to leave, only to re-appear downstairs in the lobby area when I was on my way out. In other words, this weird, came to loiter around me in the public workout area and then departed to loiter around me when I had my coat on and was leaving.
1.the final resolution of the intricacies of a plot, as of a drama or novel.
2.the place in the plot at which this occurs.
3.the outcome or resolution of a doubtful series of occurrences.
Prior to the above, I was also being deliberately followed by dudes from one piece of equipment to the other; from mid-building to the glassed perimeter, and then another pair tag teamed me on the equipment. The entire gym class gangstalking has been getting more odious and brazen. Though I am not sure if the perps are done with me yet at that venue, as they had the gym built just for me as I read the timing of events. I started working out in public gyms since about 1994, and in the prior years to BOH, Before Overt Harassment (04-15-2002). This seems to be a preferred activity to aid the perps' objectives of remotely applied nonconsensual experimentation and study. And since the OB Rec. Center had a big re-build in 2003-4 to create a new gym wing attatched to the extant swimming pool when the assholes forced me back to Victoria, I am sure they are not done yet. But then again, the perps installed a 80' cell phone tower, (read, electromagnetic and other energies) close to my regular hiking route just for my last day of hiking when I had my vehicle. So who knows; spreading cash around isn't a problem. That they plan all this out years in advance is undeniable.
I did explain in a later phone call to the gym class coordinator's voice mail that I was not going to continue with the latter half public area workouts. Anyhow, this maybe the end of gym class, or perhaps there will be some kind of rearrangements to come. And no one ever told me as to why I was selected for this "transition group", or what that term really meant. And to add to the nonsense, at least one of the more ridiculous gangstalkers at the gym, the woman in a red sweater and red shoes in street clothing, just "happened" to be at the LD store when I stopped there on my return. But not in red this time, but in a puke brown outfit. Hilarious, as it is improbable.
1955h
It is bottle bashing time in the hallway; I don't know what the perp interest is exactly, but I was reading blog postings at the time, one about Arnold Schwartzneger's recent governmental stunts, none of which I have read about in the news. As always, my view of the world is highly sculpted along several parameter themes, and being kept clueless is one of them. I also call this FUD fucked, (Fear, Uncertainty and Doubt). I would give you the link, but my Windows cut and paste functionality is getting messed with, along with the Firefox right click command of copy link location. Try here, and go to the Schwartzneger posting. Its one of those blog postings that is plain confusing with a needed prerequisite of "you had to be there" to comprehend the entirety of it.
2040h
Another siren show while the earmuffs were on, "heard" through them no less, and my cue to take them off. This is at least the fourth siren cascade today. When walking to the gym earlier they put on two ambulances about three minutes apart, travelling in opposite directions when I was near the hospital. Totally ludicrous.
2115h
More fake insect creepy crawly sensations, this time on my right ear and earlobe. After the earlobe freak described in yesterday's blog posting, it makes me wonder if the perps aren't up to some kind of remote detection games that are focussed on earlobes. Dangling earings and studs in the earlobes just might be more useful to them in some way, much how they like to have metal studded garments on me (Levi jeans) or in my proximity (e.g. studded leather handbags). My daughter had a earstud backing that "somehow" got sucked into her earlobe and had to have it surgically removed. They found it there with an X-ray, and for some reason, my then wife wanted me to see the X-ray print that was borrowed from the doctor. I might of been out of town at the time it happened, and I didn't know about it until it was all over. This vignette has more questions than answers in light of what has followed since, that being the harassment onset and my ex's involvement from the get-go.
And another motorcycle noise tonight, as if the biker's bar had opened up a block away when there isn't one for at least five miles. Its not that kind of town, or at least, until the perps decided that total (unpleasant) noise management of my environs was to be applied. Translate the term "management" in this context to mean constant provision of vexing noises in both volume and frequency above any level of expectable normality or plausibility. And of note, the streets are still wet from the rain they brought on after my early departure from gym today. It is not an evening for a real biker to be out, though the perps did once set up a daytime motorcyclist in the rain, gingerly making a corner, to tell me in their bizarre demonstrative and covert way that there really are motorcyclists out in such inclement weather conditions. More bullshit.
The perps let me in on the fact that they do extensive gangstalking, or more accurately, post-event populating, of my walking and vehicle activities and routes. I only get to see the oncoming ambulatory gangstalkers in passing, but there is a good chance they follow my route from both directions for at least an hour or more afterward. The above speculation that my yoga instructor was in a facial-only morph-over may have been for much more than a few seconds of sight and eye-contact time; she may have been dispatched to take my walking route for some distance afterward. I know my vehicle path is extensively followed for a long time afterward with a long train of vehicles in varying configurations and formations based on vehicle color and type.
That I "figured this out" now, the above pondering of what the perps do after I pass by, now six years after BOH suggests this "realization" is entirely planted, and was likely even blocked from any kind of analytical consideration all this time. They never gave me the opportunity to think through all the research angles of the harassment that would make sense from their perspective. More FUD fucking. And more overhead concrete floor pounding as I re-read this.
It was the post-outing rain that came on that prompted this "speculation" that the perps were attempting to get a better remote read on my bioenergetics interactions with the concrete and asphalt of the sidewalks and road surfaces when I walked back from the gym. That they like to change up the weather, usually to bring on rain, after concluding an activity hasn't gone unnoticed. Hopefully I have conveyed these in past blog postings, or more like, long past postings as there has only been wet July weather this week only. Which suggests more of a wet summer if their current games persist. Noting that brought on more outside motorcycle noise, and as always, likely faked by some means of remotely projecting sounds to another location, something they have long done, but not always effectively. Until about 2005 I could tell that many of these projected noises were fake as they had a metallic ringing harmonic with them. Since then, they were able to defeat my noise authentication abilities, and that small realtime detection capability was forever lost.
2210h
Time to call this one done for the day; I have made many corrections and alterations to the above, replete with plenty of situational noisestalking. (Especially when I break a long paragraph into two, or insert a sentance by first dropping the latter portions to a new line temporarily to remove the visual clutter.) It is payday at the farm tomorrow, at the end of the day of course, and from the chat I have been meant to overhear, it is a very looney time. No end of weirds come out othe woodwork to pick up their pay, or at least to complain. It will be interesting, and too, that they did not arrange this the first payday, but had me miss it and get the check the next week.
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