Soggy in the Vineyard

07-23-2012
Back to work this Monday, and not only overnight rain that ceded when I got to the vineyard work site, but the rain came on about an hour into work, and stayed that way until the last worktime hour. So.. that meant a thermal sweater, rain gear and a fleece hat while tucking shoots into the trellis wires and snipping off high shoots and lateral branches. Nothing too thrilling, but the usual hot rod vehicle noise started up about an hour into the job, and lasted 20 min. or so. The builders below were doing realistic noise, instead of the ridiculouse one hammer tap per second nonsense. Later, they somehow succeeded in timing their tapping to just when I pruned a shoot, at leat three times in succession no less.

I got soaked down the right arm as I was reaching up most of the day, but we all knows who likes to selectively wet me and plant water droplets all around. Not an eventlful day, but maybe that is the best that I can hope for in these dire circumstances.

And as the perps like to do after a day's vineyard shoot pruning, they like to flash pictures of vine shoots in my vision as particular times, akin to noisestalking (arranged coicident noise with tasks of interest to them). Call it backflash-stalking, and they have made it worse than before, so once per minute isn't too disconcerting.

The roomie house games continue; this exquisite choreograpy of the raw foodist roomie "happening" to arrive in the too small kitchen when I am making tea, exchanging places, about to scoop my hot water. So then, she follows me in teamaking, also hovering over the sink. It is fucking tiresome to be constantly hounded by these arranged coincidences and shared items/foods/water immediately before or after me. This morning I find a jar of yellow mustard in the compost bucket. Before dinner, I find an avocado and melon remnants in the garbage/trash. All this in a recycling conscious household. Go figure.

Then I find out that one of my dessert plates that I "somehow forgot" to dry and remove from the kitchen this morning was taken somewhere and then returned this evening. I suppose these are the follies of roomie living, but why am I getting cognitively clobbered over things I would never forget?

And I see the perps are now allowing me to have tea from some kind of mesh fabric teabag, as I had been using either paper teabags or loose tea. And so it goes as I move up the complexity chain of experimentation subject.

On another experimentation front, I have been getting some kind of bug bites behind my R. ear when working in the vineyard, two days in succession. Normally, I don't miss any kind of insect chewing or probing me, and "somehow" this occured at least four times the first day. The next day the same thing, on the same side. The third day, about the same number of bites behind my L. ear. In the past, 2008 I believe, I had a sudden outbreak of bedbugs in my apartment, but I was never bitten. At the time, the perps gave me a rare telepathic rationale, indicating that they didn't want insect originated toxins in my system. So..., if one accepts that, then they might now be testing me with bug bites four years later.

And speaking of bites, the perps have been juicing me with rattlesnake scenarios when working on the vineyard, and of course, indicating that there is more than insect toxins they want to test. Naturally (har, har- nothing is natural in my contained world), they plant serpentine-like debris on the ground for me to momentarily misinterpret.

07-24-2012
Still on "shit refugee" status, being forced to take a crap at the mall again, Irritible Bowel Syndrome (IBS) leading up to it. No toilet games when there, just a parade of Fuckwits for me to see through the vertical gap in the door. And no less, one of them in a wheelchair for crissakes. the perps like to obstruct what I see and often confine me to see a narrow vertical or horizontal space to then put an Unfavored speciment into the narrow space. This way they can block out much of my visual cortex and have just a small portion get an abreaction to the Unfavored. They did this with a negro about a year ago, and  have done it with a motorcycle, fat girl, and as of today, a freaking wheelchair. And have I mentioned how I loathe the sight of these things? About every week.

And the perps also seem to be working hard on showing me wheel spokes, bicyclles included. The latest is a new spoke design which puts them in pairs. As me if I care, and I am sure the perps have many times.

A day of manual top hedging and tucking in the vineyard, now complete. It took two of us nearly two work weeks to do it. Not a whole lot of flexibility with a small crew (two). And some powdery mildew was discovered, so we had to do a fruit pick for affected bunches. But I got some suntan time in today, and that is all for the good, and the perps too in all likelihood, given their obsession over the effects of sunshine, as well as vitamin D production and brown skin. There is something about the etheric field and sunlight (and all EMF for that matter), and its interaction they need to find out.

And too, much extra noise yesterday as well as the rain, all for me to start pruning with the pruners I had sharpened on Sunday, the day before yesterday. I honed the hand pruners with three levels of diamond grit stone, and spent at least 40 minutes on lapping the flat side of the blade as it somehow became uneven and was degrading their cutting abilities. Then about 20 minutes on the bevel side to get them sharp once again. The carbide scraper didn't seem to be working very well, so maybe that tool has passed from perp favor, and they want me on diamond stones alone. The whole deal with cutlery, knife and cutting edges is such a big deal for them, I don't know where to start to explain it all. Suffice to say, I get plenty of noise at the moment I cut anything, from meat to pruning shoots and everything in between. It is just plain tiresome.

07-25-2012
A day of thining and pruning vine shoots, now on the Cabernet Sauvignon rows, which are extra prolific, with new 6' shoots since we were last pruning there three weeks ago. Not much fruit on these ones, and it seems that if I thin according to the fruit the trunk would be too bare, so I leave some non-fruit shoots in to fill in the trellis. Mostly sunny, some threatening thunderstorms for an hour, but they never got close. The way this vineyard work is set up right now, is that my co-worker is at the S. end of the property, and I am at the N. end, with the house and the rest of the six acre vineyard in between. The perps like to split me up from co-workers when they have the change, likely for some distant dependent energetic detection. And too, a powerline runs along the W. side of the property, and I was reminded of it with the snapping and crackling of the wires.

A haircut after work today, a rarity as normally I get it done on the weekend. Perhaps the perps have me scripted to work then, as we will be getting behind with my co-worker leaving in two days. And another change-up; I have been getting my legs waxed at the same appointment for my haircut, but it wasn't doable today. Changing my habits, even if originated and dictated by the Thems, is a big deal for their ongoing nonconsensual human research. And what was with the seen-before supervisor woman looking positively grotesque in glossy make-up and slicked crimped hair? A regular person turned into a freak maybe?

And a trip out to the grocery store after dinner, a real 20% off for the last Wednesday of the month, unlike three weeks ago when there was a total fake-out as to the day, and then belatedly learning that the sale was faked for a week after the fact. The landlady talked it up, there were swarms of gangstalkers/shoppers in the store, so it all seemed to be the last Wednesday, and it wasn't as I later found out when not seeing a 20% discount on the reciept. And that is but one example of how clueless they like to have me, and have no compunction about doing it; humilation and abuse is just the air they breathe.

And lo, if I wasn't "shopping stalked"; within a minute of completing putting my groceries away, why, the raw foodist roomie arrives and puts her groceries down in the same location that I did, and too, from the same store. My till tape was still on the counter surface and she puts her grocery bag next to it. I should of seen her in the grocery store, but "somehow" didn't, and maybe she stopped somewhere else when she arrived.

And a three times attempt to pay for my groceries; the first time didn't work out with the chip end of the debit card. Then the magnetic swipe was presented as an option, but it failed due to some BS error about funds. So the cashier took over my card for the third attempt and lo, if it didn't progress normally, but unusually quickly. My retinue of freaks and weirds were all around me; the first the aisle, then the back of the store and then the checkout stalkers were in silent wait mode as the aforementioned debit card games proceeded. About 20% of my debit card transactions fuck-up in some way; through cognitive dithering, apparent card problems, or network problems.

Then onto cleaning and honing my Felco hand pruners while she putzed in the kitchen, put her groceries away, and fussed with plastic bags. I have never met anyone who fusses around with plastic bags so often, another order of magnitude than the cashiers at the chekouts who always seem to have an excuse to mess with them there.

Another three rounds of the roomie-stalker being in the kitchen and the gangstalk-roomie has suddenly erupted too, all for crossing my tracks or planting herself just where I need to go. And then I do an online order, (read, financial transaction stalking), and a friend of hers arrives and they start blabbing outside my door. This constant proximity stalking is worse than a having a puppy home for the first time, except that it is every time, and it is driven by wilful and relentless malevolence. Said online order was suddenly truncated because the mouse wouldn't work for selecting two more items. So... the mouse did then resume working once I began the checkout process.

And while in the next room the roomie timed a sneeze at the exact moment I was confronted with yet another PC mouse failure, of which the frequency has been suddenly amped up to about 50% of the time. A reason to take it apart and to go through the fucking abuse of not "knowing", as in dynamically applied cognitive dithering, how to put it together again. Another excuse for a screaming rage show based on the last time the assholes had me fix the PC mouse.

07-26-2012
The roomie kept up her coincidental arrivals in the kitchen today; for breakfast at 0500h, and again when I got back at 1600. She had the stove occupied, ordinarily where I make my afternoon tea, but with four sausages cooking in a frypan, my teapot would be in the middle of all that. So forget it, another "dashed expectation" in this long running orchestrated abuse show. The raw foodist roomie is cooking up sausages again, so she cannot be vegetarian.

A day of work on the vineyard, continuing with tucking shoots and thining them out, with some leaf removal. As two rows were on the edge of a steep bank, I had to expend extra effort to attend to them when they were over my head and my footing wasn't secure.

Another forced shit at work again, and the toiletgetting plugged, even if it was an exceedingly small load. After two plugging incidents over the last four weeks, I didn't want to risk it, but I had no choice.

07-27-2012
A day on the vineyard, and good weather too. And in concert with that, the Fuckwits screwed me out of remembering to bring my hat and shorts in the morning. This is something I do every day on this gig at this time of year, and all prior farm work jobs of the last four years, and somehow I "forgot". They both get inexplicably damp by the end of the day, so I hang them up to dry, and that is where they remained all day.

A cracking good thunderstorm this evening though, thwarting plans to dry my laundry, as the dryer seems to be beating up my clothes of late. At least 20 min. of torrential downpour, with added hail, and one flash, crack and boom altogether outside, enough to make me wonder if the tree outside got hit. It didn't, even if my vehicle was under it. And I suppose this might of been an exercise in tree cover energetic differences, as only my vehicle was under the tree, and the rest were out in the rain and hail. After it was done, I took my vehicle to do my mall dump, and then to get some groceries. I got plenty of vehicular gangstalking attention, especially the big black monster pickups and the blacked-in wheels on other vehicles. If I don't like the sight of blacked-in wheels and black vehicles with dark tinted glass, I don't see why I have to be hounded in two countries and three cities by some deranged abusive Psychopathic Confederacy for over ten years as to likely subconscious traumatizations (aka abreactions) they might have been inflicted during the three years they wiped from my recall, age 2 to 5. Go fuck your own, and get out of my life, such that it has been reduced to.

A rock concert a few blocks away will be holding forth today (Friday) and through the weekend to late Sunday. As this is the first Rock the Peach concert, it just might be connected to perp games, all the noise/music being heard in the background. I won't be attending because I am going to work this weekend at the vineyard to get one project phase completed.

The dog-me stalker-roomie is continuing her relentless coverage, now day two of it. She even got up earlier than I did, at 0450h, made her coffee in the melita filter funnel, and in keeping with her beligerent streak, left it in the sink for me to deal with. (I put it on a plate on the counter, but I consider leaving things in the sink and then fucking off to be higly rude, even beligerent, in a shared house, especially when one knows for sure that the sink will be in use within minutes. I call it "coffee stalking", which was normally the preserve of the streetwalking gangstalkers, carrying their Starbucks coffee around late in the evening. But putting the just-spent grounds in the sink a minute ahead of the next person will suffice as the latest variant of this very consistent perp prop, coffee. As in "browning around" games which are in high evidence each time I take a crap.

And speaking of which, what is it with brown skinned gangstalkers popping out from behind corners of the building, to/from my crap at the mall tonight? These  "pop-outs" as I call them, are getting more agressive and are using their timing to pop-out from behind corners, which is how I remember them starting this long train of abusive insanity (theirs) in 04-2002. And two green-shirts, aka "staff" were plugging the aisle in the supermarket grocery store tonight, so I go around them via another aisle, and lo, if a Fuckwit didn't pop out from behind a display so he could pass by me on my right side, wearing a green variant, olive drab.

07-29-2012
And the event of my cell phone "somehow"  popping off its holster and only being discovered when I got home commanded my attentions yesterday evening. I drove out there to retrieve it, and lo, if it didn't somehow slip in between the seat and the frame of the Kubota RTV I drove to the lowest tier of vine rows. And easy find, as the perps had planted a significant number of scenario ideations; that it had been run over, that it had dropped into the vines/weeds etc. The owners are not home this week, as there is a state of family emergency as the owner's son, under 30, underwent open heart surgery in Vancouver this week. I don't know the particulars, but early reports were that there was no complications. So I feed their cat, a vicious indoor-kept cat, and do watering of the outside plants and garden.

And yesterday, during the work day of hedging and tucking vines, the perps pulled another shit stunt, forcing me to use the second toilet in the house, that also promptly blocked. Other unmentionable shit games ensued as well, but I will spare my readers of the details. If you have added them up, two of their house's three toilets were blocked. The One Second Plumber gas device didn't work on the first one, and the gas cartridge was spent attempting to get the first one unblocked, unsuccessfully. At the end of the episode, the perps let me in on another seal/cartridge configuration that might work. Nice of them. So, like the day before, I stop in at a certain country-wide hardware chain store, and get two more gas cartridges.

And it was my first order of work today, to unblock the two toilets. Eventually, it was successful, but again, there is no conventional reason for them to be blocking, or at least, nowhere near as frequently. Going back to 04-2002, when the perps outed themselves with shock and awe, one of their personnel was in my apartment and blocked the toilet with a ballon, which I later had to unblock with a plumbers snake I purchased. And every since, taking a crap has been a fraught experience of plunging, some overflows and messy cleanups. And the sudden onset of needing chocolate about that time (still continuing at $250/month), along with everything else in the color-stalking games, points to the perps being profoundly interested in the color brown, as much as they are interested in excrement of all forms, colors and animal species. I should add that in mid-2011 the toilet/crap games subsided, so that I could, after nine years, experience normal toilet behavior/experience. Then in 12-2011 they had me get my ass hairs waxed, and lo, if the toilet games didn't re-start. In general, they did subside in 02-2012, and even for the first week of June in this newest residence, but after that, the perps have reverted to their "toilet terrorism" games again. Don't ask me why their toilet/crap sabotage games have increased, nor what ass hairs have to do with what they are studying. I am sick fed up, and even more pissed that they won't let me take an fast exit from this psychopathically insane continuum of abuse. They had me for three years, aged 2 to 5, and wiped my recall of what was done to me, so surely they have extracted their pound of flesh, and can leave me the fuck alone.

More high wierdness this evening; the perps sacked me for a 1.75 hour long nap, of which I spent the last 30 minutes trying to get up, but physically couldn't. Then I hear someone knocking at the door, and only then was I finally allowed to get up. I see this elderly bag in profile through the semi-wavy front door glass, and didn't bother to answer it as it seemed she was departing. I take my recycle items to the back door, and then deck, and the landlady is calling out for "Linda" to follow her, in a way that suggested Linda needed extra direction and cognitive assistance. I assumed that Linda was part of the landlady's company, but somehow went to the front door, in error. I am about to start my dinner preparations, and Linda, the elderly person at the front door, is now at the back door and coming into the kitchen where I was. She says something about where is x, (the landlady), and I say she is downstairs. Linda is clutching a bottle of Coca Cola to her ample folds, and she then says we have met. I respond, "we have?", and she tells me my name, which I confirm. Then she makes tracks to find the landlady, going back the way she came. I get my dinner together, brown tortilla quesadillas, with red-brown rooibus ice tea, and sit outside to eat. And still the landlady is calling out for Linda, who is 6' away by then.

Anyhow, this bizarre charade of ensuring I see this Linda person through the  partially wavy front door glass, through the kitchen window glass (double pane), and then in person, while she was clutching a plastic bottle of Coca-Cola, the very favorite perp prop after coffee (geti it?), was arranged just after an extensive (and, unneeded) forced nap. And why the party of the landlady and Linda couldn't get it together and enter into the same door at the same time is also beyond comprehension. Just another vignette in this ongoing relentless abuse and cognitive confinement.

And on that note, I shall call this posting done for another week, and hope no one else's, especially from the TI community, is as bizarre and fraught as this was.

Flasbacks of Weeds

2055h
I spent the entire day weeding strawberries with a hoe today, resuming where I left off yesterday. And tonight, I am getting flashbacks, even in front of this LCD display as I type this, of the weeds in their various states of repose while weeding. I get the green dots as a replica of the tops of the weeds, looking down. The perps even did this while I was looking at the floor, replicating the fact that they were on the ground. Then when weeded with the hoe, the weeds, mostly germinants with a single stem and two cotyledens (beginner leaves) showing, lie flat with their white stems. And so I get plasmic flashbacks of white stems this evening. And underneath the weed leaves, it was a copper red color, and lo, if I don't get flashbacks from that too. And I suspect most readers know that I get routinely hounded with red colors, and copper ones especially.

So it seems that the perps want to replicate the visual appearence of each of these prominent weed colors I witnessed all day today. I suppose the intent is to see what reactions I have in this evening time light conditions, (dark now), as well as bringing on the rain tonight when it mostly held off today. And of course, being back at my apartment, the perps want to test my color reactions to the same ones seen on the farm job. I do hope it is the last time I spent weeding all day.

And as a diversion, and as part of the ongoing games as to where I sit and for how long, they brought out the plant feeding implement that gets towed behind the tractor, and it has four seats on it, side by side, and the farm worker sit in them to feed the strawberry plants into the planting machine. So.. I got to sit in the seat, next to the woman who follows me on jobs and occasionally connects for coffee, while the others loaded the trays of plants, even if frozen. The head farmer happened to come by and see that the plants were frozen and difficult to separate and cancelled the gig. He made the right decision of course, but it did seem a little farfetched that it took him to see the problem, when the others didn't, and likely had some experience with this planting implement in the past. So it seems this was an interesting perp diversion to have me sit in a seat next to someone else who has been on my tail for a year and for a limited time, no more than five minutes. And I am sure that regular readers will know how beserk the perps are as to where I sit, and for how long, and what material it is made of and what color. Hence the musical seats games on the city bus I have noted in the past.

I am getting lots of visual interference tonight, and am getting this page to appear to undulate and lift up in places and appear three dimensional to a limited degree. Nothing new there, save the frequency, as these reading surface games have been going on for a year or so, when they learned how to interfere with my depth perception at the neural level and by remote means.

The same woman who sat beside me in the planting implement (above) also gave me a ride to the local organic store and then downtown to my place. I couldn't help feel "friend stalked", knowing that the perps like to maintain stalker continuity as much as they can, and what better way than offering a ride. Of course it was a total clusterfuck of traffic out, and ordered in greyscale colors with the odd insertion of a red or copper colored vehicle. All that vehicle color action after a day of weeding similar colors.

Anyhow, that is it for today as I am bushed and will retire to something else other than this here LCD display, and all the flashbacks I am getting.

2220h
PS: Adding something; at least 20 screaming provocations of the perps this morning at 0600h. It is difficult to know what started them, though it seemed timed for the opening of a new package of small size tortillas and taking out the small package of dessicant inside. I haven't had such a fierce battle with the assholes this early for some months. The usual litany of mind-fuck abuses; forced "forgets" sending me to the wrong cupboard/drawer at least 5x, pokes and jabs on my fingertips and inside forearms at least 10x, faked noise, teleported crumb inundations, and a few others.

Flashbacks

2025h
And what is with these visual flashbacks I keep getting, usually after a doing gardening/weeding job? I get reddish or greenish flashback images of the weeds I took out, couch grass, perriwinkle and a few others. I never had anything of this kind before, no matter if I spent all day weeding, and in the past year this bullshit has erupted after the fact, as if to continue the imagery into another task/event.

And so it was, doing some three hours weeding at the nonstop landscape disaster that is the First Feral Family home, and many more landscaping disasters to deal with. And I had my usual procession of noise to accompany me; STRATCOM B-52's, then DeHavilland Turbo Beavers, then some private aircraft and then the Sea King helicopters, at least four passes of the latter. And too, the neighbors know when to start up their lawnmowers, seeming the same kind as they all make the same noise, just from different distances and directions. It was a three-some today, three harmonically coordinated lawnmowers, with one starting, a second one 20 minutes later, and then the first one cutting out, at least five interuptions while the second one continued, and then the third one from the E, where the first two were from the NW and W. And a procession of hot rods and high performance (read, high noise) vehicles were also arranged as part of the noise parade while digging weeds out, why is San Juan Ave., whitebread suburbia, an attraction for serial performance vehicles (again, meaning high noise) all afternoon on any given weekdays when the dudes should be earning money to pay for these high-noise vehicles? All part of the noise show, and it is consistent as it is predictable.

Then the neighbor comes out and runs his Volkswagen van for ten minutes, apparently to check his brake lights for crissakes. It is a most curious color combination that I cannot imagine anyone choosing in their right mind; lime green with light brown tan panels painted on the sides on the bigger expanses of sheet metal. No doubt, as it was 40' away as I worked along the lot line, it has significant perp use as these vans are extensively used in vehicular gangstalking, as the engine is in the rear, behind the rear wheels, a rather unique configuration that VW Bettles and Porche 911 designs share.

And is it too much of a coincidence that the perps had me with two VW camper vans way back when, Westphalias as they are called here. Nice vans, but hopelessly underpowered, and it was only the then wife's bizarre sentiments that kept them as long as they lasted, some four years. I came to loathe VW and their vehicles then, which in the latter case might be an outdated view as their technology has changed so radically now.

2120h
Major motorcycle noise tonight, and then when the in-town brother phoned (read, EMF at one's head) they put on another very loud motorcycle noise, having me block my ears with my fingers while holding the dangling phone as my brother was speaking at that moment. No doubt some of the motorcycle noise got through to the earpiece and he heard, but that is the whole idea; compare his reactions to motorcycle noise to mine with the active headset in close proximity. It seems that motorcycles also have subconscious traumatization associations for me, as I get no end of parked motorcycles arranged as props for me to see, not hear. And note, that I am six storeys up, and there is no way motorcycles should be as loud as they are on the street.

It was watch the Royal Wedding night at the First Feral Family house; coverage began at 2200h and the ceremony started at 0300h and I didn't make it into bed until 0430h. I awoke at 1100h and was reasonably OK with the sleep deficit, as the perps seem to manage me to be perfectly OK with minimal sleep sometimes. Or else, for no seeming reason, they can nail me for 11 hours of sleep other times, again, with no dleep deficit cover story.

2300h
Job looking online; funny how some of the topical companies, featured in the news today, end up seeming to want to hire. What I am suggesting is that the online jobs I get to see are mostly about appealing to what I have recently read, interests (avocational or vocational), locations I have known or even lived in, and any other personal association, even if long ago. I am begining to suspect the entire exercise is spoofed for each time I look at it. And the oil & gas drilling laborer job "interest" that I was controlled to look into has returned when I expected it to wane. Last week, I applied online after answering an online questionaire and once approved, filled out the minimal detail required in expression of interest. In other words, my resume, and for all it might contain that could be construed as limiting, was not part of the equation as to whether I was considered or not. And lo, no phone call, no stated interest, and finally I thought that this planted obsession was over. But no, they have me looking again, and no doubt this is yet another exercise to engage in futility, something that seems to be a huge perp research theme.

And again, what is with the 40+ crowds on the bus heading into downtown from suburbia at 1637h, the #28 bus? Just another excuse for a mobile gangstalking freakshow, aka, city bus transportation. And they had the negro (Unfavored, see posting to right) out again, posted at the rear exit door so everyone had to go past him in his strange semi-dreadlocak hair. And my last sighting of him was arranged for him to have the underside of his tongue revealed to me while he was looking down. This, as he was coming to the rear bench seat, getting out of the way of the rear door immediately before I got up to exit at my bus stop. He and his E. Indian pal in mirrored shades and a black wool toque get my award as the "least likely to be seen on public transportation" award for today. And as it "happened", the E. Indian sitting next to me had a 2 liter container of milk he "happened" to have purchased and was taking home. And milk seems to be a constant perp prop wherever I go, and I suppose the milk jug and the brown cookies that were in front of me when staying up for the Royal Wedding last night just might of been the props for the same reason; brown and white milk together and see if whatever energetic signature they have in my proximity and then arrange brown skinned people with milk in hand the next day. Fucking hilarious if it wasn' so insane and the culmination of nine years' of abuse. There is nothing genuinely humorous as a TI, as one is groomed on loathing at every turn.

That should be it for today, and hopefully getting some regular sleep tonight.

Contrail Day on the Farm

June 26, 2010, 2135h
A very long day, working until 1830h, and the bussing it home with the city bus freak show that got so out of hand with a native Indian nutcase throwing his arms around in a mock fight with no one, that I bailed early and spent an extra 15 minutes walking back. And lo, when I got out, if they didn't have a negro and an Cambodian pair of Fuckwits on display, right buddies they were too.

And it is likely that TI's and regular readers will know that the perps have an obsession over knees and knee coverings/clothing. This particular aspect is most apparent when I do farm laboring jobs, picking bulbs, fruit or tubers on or close to the ground. I normally use knee pads, and they work within the realm of being fucked with; slipping down, slipping laterally, and although adding comfort, are under constant manipulations. I leave the kneepads at the farm to dry out overnight, and I got screwed out of retrieving them when the Saturday and Sunday (June 27) bus schedules don't allow me to get to the farm by 0700h for regular work start time. So... as I was taking the walking trail to access the farm, why, the crew was there in view, picking strawberries. I hopped the fence, and reported for work, sans kneepads. The assholes wouldn't let me crouch for the first two hours, and had me bend over for the most part, sometimes straddling the row. Then the sore back games started up, and I suddenly became able to crouch, which is how I spent the rest of the day picking. I also got a spell of the demotivation feeling to retrieve the kneepads at lunch time, as I could of made it to the farm warehouse and back in time.

The next day, the same thing, except someone left the gate open for me. The no kneepads jerkarounds started up again, and finally, in the latter half of the day they let me kneel directly on top of the soft soil, no rocks thankfully. So it would seem that this was a big deal as they never have let me kneel directly on the soil while in these low-to-ground picking situations. I also noted they have cracked up the kneepad material, so another pair will be due in all likelihood as this insane escalation of expenses has continued this month.

Another feature of the work day was to fake me out and not tell me that there was extra work. At 1740h the supervisor came to collect us all, and the inference was that the work day was over. The supervisor gave me a bunch of carrots to take home, and when back at the warehouse I clocked out, and began looking for a plastic bag to put the carrots into to place in my backpack. And lo, if there wasn't a potatoe washing job ready to begin, and it seemed they needed me to be on the conveyor line to pick out stones, soil clods and other debris next to a Mexican worker. He was also one of the three that worked at last year's farm job, 08 to 11-2009. He doesn't speak much English, so I cannot say I know him well, but he is a good worker that aims to get along. Anyhow, an extra hour of unexpected work at the day's end, getting faked out by the oddity of no one telling me what the fuck was coming next.

Another event of the day was seeing a major contrails and maser sky arrangement, and it was also witnessed by one of my co-workers. The event had been promoted at lunch time when I noted an unusual crisscross cloud pattern in the sky and mentioned it to my only English speaking coworker. While picking strawberries an hour later, she in the next row, I mentioned two new parallel contrails, each with a 10 degree dogleg on the latter 20%, and remarked as to how unsual that would be in normal aviation practice. About ten minutes later, she mentions to me that there is a third contrail aircraft, and when I look up it is equi-spaced to create three parallel lines. And when we continue to look up, a black maser beam, the width of the aircraft, is projecting from the aircraft to the horizon. on the N. side of this deliniating beam the sky has been shaded a darker color, seemingly a massive maser wash meeting up with this beam. The look of it was that from the horizon to the aircraft there was a black beam, and from (or behind) the aircraft there was a white trail (like a beam, but gradually widening further behind it). We remarked on the fact that neither had a camera, and that if we ever saw it again, we still would be unlikely to have one. This black/white continous line in the sky, with the aircraft the point of color change stayed in place for a minute or so, and was a rare exception to the fleeting plasma and masers I see all the time and all around me. About five minutes later, an Bombardier passenger jet flies low, in a deep grey and navy blue livery. It is the first time I have seen this aircraft type here, and was most odd that it was so low, maybe 1,000 ft or less. Most of the Victoria International Airport traffic is small turboprop aircraft, and here was this smaller commercial jet. I am a minor expert on aircraft types and noise, as it seems that they manage to re-route the S. bound flights (harbor, or to Seattle) just over where I am working in the farm fields, this being the third one in two years.

And just when I thought I was done with picking strawberries for the entire day, and seeing a profusion of red colored vehicles in clusters and patterns, why, the assholes put flashes of red strawberries in my visual field for the evening. I never had any flashbacks from anything at any time of my life, and this bullshit starts up. Also of related interest, it was the first day they had me picking strawberries with my barehands, as they had me wear gloves before. Transparent nitrile gloves, then blue nitrile gloves (with many splitting incidents), and then finally bare handed strawberry picking was allowed. Ditto for the carrot harvesting that came later, as well as the sudden potato washing job at day's end.

-great linting sock problems continue, now it looks like a cross country/continent search for thick non wool (as in non linting) socks. This beggars belief, getting screwed over with a new pair that linted with much less wool in tonight's laundry. Maybe the whole deal of a separate sock laundering that has been going on for over a year is now over, and the assholes will let me launder socks with the rest of the laundry, but only if they are non-linting of course. This bullshit never ends.

-water line games over carrot washing in the field, plus I got some carrots given to me, likely for further nonsense as to eating them, versus picking them and the influence of the water supply pipes that irrigate them.

June 28, 2010, 1605h

My new Topre Realforce keyboard is at work here, and what a waste of $300. I was expecting some snappy and touch sensitive (resistant, then "breaks through") keys, and I get an elevated mushiness. Heresay for the keyboard afficianados, but this is the way it is. This is a capacitive resistance individual switch design, so one can read different EMF signature for each keystroke. I feel totally rooked, not to mention an extra $33 of taxes on this sucker when I picked it up. I thought I had dodged the Provincial Sales Tax (PST) before July 01, but they screwed me for it anyways.

A busy Monday for all the goings on a day off, starting with a stayover at the First Feral Family home last night, and then onto dealing with returned items to drive across town to the place I was at last week at the same time, and then backyard maintenance work. Then a doctor's appointment, where an Asian doctor also got pulled in to ask questions, he being a very pale Asian. I was in "on" mode today, highly verbal and with facile recall access, almost unknown to me before now.

1730h
More bullshit outside my door; yacking on the cell phone. This is after I put three loads of laundry through as the towels and wool socks make lint in copious amounts and must be separated from the rest of the laundry. I have yet to find thick wool-free socks and the local major outdoors store isn't helping any, keeping wool blends only. Another expense in the making, having dealt with self-punctured umbrellas (read, sabotage while it was on the shelf) and other bullshit this month.

This new Topre Realforce keyboard is on the fritz it seems, and the typo sabotage is also contributing to the harassment-scope. The perps have taken to making me send or take things back, and it just might be this is another in that succession of escalating combinations of items, geography and what it may contact, and be wrapped in. Two brown cardboard boxes for this new keyboard, so that might be the real perp interest in escalating the noise and harassment as I type on this. The only model I have come to use is that the "brown color energies" of the cardboard, and the wood pulp have been conveyed to this plastic keyboard, and the entire interaction of my fingers on it is also of intense interest. But as nearly all things are boxed in cardboard and paper, save for the plastic packaging, I was not too surprised to have a cardboard box bearing Fuckwit outside the parcel pick up location this afternoon. This is the parcel for which I did not get a delivery notice, and "somehow" I forgot to ask how that might of happened. And no less, she didn't ask for ID, which they always do, even with a parcel delivery notice in hand. All too strange, not to mention the 10 minute wait for only two supposed customers ahead of me, taking forever while the freakshow paraded by. The Canada Post livery is an orange red, so there were no end of freaks and Fuckwit passing through the line as well as lining up behind me, at least eight more, many in red colors, looking to be shopping for the most banal items, perusing them at length.

1845h
Some strikeouts on what I ordered online besides the above keyboard, and when I return to the website, why, there are some items that are more suited as to size and type. Which pisses me off; I either got mindfucked as to cognitively not noticing alternatives, or else the site got spoofed. The prices also seem spoofed compared to an article I read about this site, also confirming the better choice. The game now is, do I eat the $28 and not send it back, or go through the messing around and shipping back and the rest of it? Seems like perp heaven to me, either way; financially fucking the victim or having the item reside in the victim's residence and not have them use it, possibly giving it away. All those "energies" of each scenario are just too tantalizing for the sickos.

Two days ago, June 26, I had three separate incidents of Fuckwits in public doing the "come at me" for no seeming reason and then stop, or finally declare their intent, long after safety and personal space incursion threats were registered. I get about three of a week normally, but three in a day is exceptional. There was the two-time Saturday Fuckwit in black and a white wide brimmed hat and full white beard, my regular tail at the bus stop for the #6 0707h bus, N. bound. This time, he was standing at the intersection some 80' away, for absolutely no reason. Traffic control changes cycled one after the other, and this wacko was standing some 5' in from the curb, W. facing, and kept this up for nearly 10 minutes. A woman was waiting for the bus in his usual spot leaning against a wall, and when he arrived, he aligned himself with her, and me by extension as I was leaning against the same wall. Then she steps away from the wall so I was in direct line of sight with this Fuckwit posing for unknown reasons, and wanders around, leaving this bearded and big hatted Fuckwit to pose in view. Only a minute before the bus comes does he walk down the street to the bus stop, and comes directly at me, looking at me, and then when within 8' he stops and leans against the wall where the woman was leaning.

Onto the next Fuckwit, a wacko native Indian act, getting on the bus and then walking past seats he could of sat in all to sit directly in front of me, transversely. I was alarmed as to what the fucker was going to do, but he sat down in the closest transverse seat. I have had it with this bullshit, and wanted to get off and walk the rest of it, but the pull cord on the bell didn't work. And when the next stop came, why, the wacko looking woman with the steel cage wheeled hamper, a common gangstalking prop, was making moves to get off, so I defered and waited another stop. I got off after the red-haired woman crossed my path to do so, getting ahead of me, and lo, if there wasn't an negro and a deep brown Asian pair walking toward me. But that wasn't enough of the Unfavoreds.

The assholes then arranged a yellow shirted Fuckwit coming from behind a building with a cardboard box in hand to then get within "threat" range, and then the fucker finally declared his intention by asking me if I could unlock the adjacent gate to the alleyway to the garbage room (which one needs the key for as well, so what did he expect to accomplish?), and then stands way too close while I was unlocking the gate for him. And have I detailed enough incidents before as to the endless games that go on whenever I am about to enter or exit a building or lock or unlock a door? Fucking bizarre to say the least. Three personal space encroachments in one day, the native Indian score alone is two for recent month.

Anyhow, I should get this posted for now, as it is my day off, and I am usually too whacked after a day of farm labor.

Balmy Winter Days

1805h
It is mid Febuary, and the blossoms are out in force today, for this exceptional week of good weather, timed for when snow is needed for the Winter Olympics, in progress and not too far away, in Vancouver BC. I haven't been followingit  much, keeping my head down and doing the peasant earning thing of working in the daffodil fields, save on days with Oracle DBA class, like today, A Saturday. It was the final day of the DBA 1 course, and the instructor went over some test material, and it will be a huge stretch for me to be conversant enough to pass the exam, given the uncharacteristic, and mind-fuck imposed IMHO, lassitude about doing course study work. The infernal hassle of getting a Linux operating system on this PC is ongoing, as the back orded removable tray has not arrived after two weeks, and the retailer isn't responding to my emails as to cancelling the order, and allowing me to get on with a more expensive local alternative.

Sometimes I get fed the notions that I should quit railing against these imposed slowdowns, as nothing I do is going to help and accept the podunky and protracted script they have written for me.  Other days, I am totally pissed and incensed that I am not allowed to set my own schedule and why is there so much ineptitude or delay. Some study sessions have been attempted, but it clear that no more than an hour per day is allowed, as I get dithered as to reading comprehension all of a sudden.

Anyhow, much of the day was spent in the classroom, going over Oracle data movement methods, all interesting from the perspective that I was living and eating this kind of material every working day for some 8 years, and now, for almost 10 years, three of which I spent working, I have been removed from this technology, and by extension, any kind of remunerative work, save the agricultural initiatives of the last two years, the recent daffodil picking being one example.

Back to the daffodil fields tomorrow for two days and then another one off, in this nearly daily alternation of class attendance and farm labor. What that means for the perps isn't entirely clear, but they often have me flip between various modes, backing and forthing. And exposure to sunlight has always been a big deal as part of their research/harassment objectives, and so it is that this balmy February weather just might be part of the scheme. I don't know what the perps are going to do this summer when there is much more intense solar radiation, but last year they often kept me from going to work as a berry picker by screwing me out of remembering to put the alarm clock on the prior evening. It was another "never before" screwaround that was happening too often to be fluke. So it remains to be seen what they will do this summer to keep me out of the sun, though I am sure they have it planned. A good indication of their research accomplishments will be when they allow me to visit a tanning salon. This "need" sprang up in 2001 and 2002, as the fitness club had some tanning booths I would use intermittently. Even after the harassment started, they had me tanning a few times, and culminating in some intense head pain abuse inside the tanning booth. I could never figure out where it was coming from, but if I put my arms over my head I could block it out each time, though temporarily as they could re-aim the beam from somewhere else. I even found their trademark brown fibers in the pot lamp overhead, saved them to an envelope in my briefcase, and the envelope disappeared somehow within a few days. So... re-visiting tanning booths might be the biggest indicator as to the assholes' sunlight beams games might be over. I am not hopeful, and besides, I wasn't much for tanning, and there are so many of their objectives they have yet to attain, that one won't be noticeable from the victim's perspective (mine).

And today's class had the biggest cacaphony of sneezing, coughing, throat clearing, hacking and other like noise going, the first 1.5 hours. At least four apparent class members were in on it, maybe more, and it all seemed to be in competition with the power planer whine coming from down the hallway where they had ripped out the toilets and had them stacked in the hallway. I can only assume this was perp arranged, as they do have an obsession over toilets, and have arranged many plungings, overflows and like managed catastrophes in my apartments. And in fact, it was their opening act, sticking a balloon down the toilet as it was flushing when they invaded my apartment to lauch this insane abusive depravity 04-15-2002, income tax return day. My notes are not up to date, as there were personnel in my apartment, but only after it seeming that there was no one. I suspect they must of time-scrambled my recall, as I never, ever made errors of recall as to event occurences and dependencies, as much as they like me to start in the middle of a story before laying out all the predecessor events. So today, another "never before", the sickliest class ever, all those hacking and coughing bodies sustained for that duration, and managing to alternate between my left and right side. Maybe they will all be better this coming Tuesday for the next class.

All ancient history, as every fucking day I wonder when this abusive tyranny is going to end, and when I get to wreak avengance, being maintained in a state of near permanent anger for close to eight years now. Such is their version of abuse, and likely not the first time they put me through something, and crossed their fingers that I wouldn't remember.

Another stunt the perps were pulling last night after a day of daffodil picking, was to flash oversized images of daffodil buds in my vision, either by direct neural access or else a plasma field. It would only last a fraction of a second, but again, I have never had any kind of "flashbacks" from any endeavor, and especially one that is relatively benign in not causing any emotional trauma. And nor have I taken any kind of pharmacutical that would cause such. At least, not known to me, though the hijinx of Dr. Ewan Cameron in the 1950's, when I did live in Montreal for two years, does present a substantial question mark.

But in class today, I did get some smell jammed up my nose; the stale wet laundry smell was coming off someone nearby, and the odd time I did get yet more of a ganja spliff smell even if there is no smoking in the building. Tonight, I am getting the sulfurous matches smell from time to time. I suspect the perps use these same smells to correlate certain neural region activity from one physical location to the next, and in doing so, attempt to remotely detect the energetic signature of my thoughts as to who did it, how, and the rest of the attribution to the assholes. Been there, done that.

2125h
Plenty of transient vision impairment games tonight; the blurrings, then the vortex alignment like the text on the page is swirling down a drain, then striated light (banded in parallel), and the ever present plasma light flashes and projections and the wispy blackish filaments and fuzzy balls.

Enough for a post, such as it is.