Zap Attack Redux

1145h
I thought the zappings were over, as the line was that they were to elicit subconscious traumatization responses originating from such treatment during the memory deletion years, 1956 to 1959, aged 2 to 5 y.o. And for at least a year this seemed to be the case, or at least, until two nights ago. Last night and the night before, the drill is the same; awakening to dude talk (male talk tone, no word distinction) at about 0200h to 0400h in the morning, have the concrete ceiling get clunked and thumped simultaneously with a full body zapping. More last night, some six zappings in ten minutes with the simultaneous noise, followed by me yelling at them. And have I said how much I fucking loathe being zapped, a momentary total body pulse travelling through one, bordering on incapacitation? Not recently, but let it be said the day I deal with the assholes who pull this stunt off will be the day that the fuckers will cease to exist and will represent yet more of the train of dead bodies we see on the news at any given moment.

It was bad enough being awakened for totally nothing except the sonorous dude chat, something I never hear during the daytime as there are no real neighbors in this building, it is too irradiated for anyone but those who have been prepared like I have been, with masers coming of me at someone's behest, any body location, any time. That happened two nights ago, two or three times in the night, being awakened by some Fuckwit all to hear their prerecorded male voice tone games, and perhaps one zapping. Last night, they extended this Fuckover stunt to go heavy on the zappings with a prior similar dude voice ramp up. There is no way I would of woken up to this low level noise in pre-overt/beserk harassment days, as it wasn't loud enough to awaken me. But as  I now awaken according to the Fuckover script, I can only assume it is the assholes at work, and with concrete floors/ceilings (12" thick) being pounded at the same time as being zapped, I can only assume they are up to their usual "shake and bake" inanities in the name of remotely applied neural energetics research, still rounding on my brainstem area. And it would seem, still attempting to get through the vagaries/noise of the energetics of ubiquitous pollutants they also put into place in the mistaken notion that it was of some benefit when they started that line of research in 1954. Now that they have polar bears with elevated PFOA levels, it is long overdue for the perpetrators to come out of the closet and stop using the world as a chemical soup for their mendacious skulking. Enough conspiracy talk for now, though I suspect most TI's have already come to similar conclusions, and it is just that we don't get to influence anyone else out there as we are kept isolated and come from a very strange set of circumstances. And if the abductee community cannot get any respect for over 50 years, I don't see that TI's will get any further.

1530h
Six job applications submitted last night, and not even an auto reply among th the lot. Same old, sickos at work.

Other perp jerkarounds are that they had me, or else they arranged it themselves, put the frozen bread loaf into the plastic bag backwards to the way it was when first opened, continuing yesterday's frozen bread fuckover games. Then after lunch, they had me put the bowl where the side plates go, and vice versa, another one for mindfucking me out of routines I could do in my sleep, but aren't allowed to do when in the kitchen. So here we are, closing in on eight years of targeted abuse and harassment, and this is the level of juvenility they aspire to. And it is a fair clue as to where they have taken this nonconsensual human experimentation. Not even at 100% mind control yet, given their pounding of the floors and ceilings, per above. And to take the cake, that isn't the half of their agenda.

And it is now over a week since they lined the hallways with plastic as part of a drop cloth for painting, and have they painted anywhere on this floor? Just the laundry room one day ahead of me using the washing and dryer machines in the room, and splattering while paint around each of the elevator entrances, including the plastic on the floor. This has to be the most bozo paint job I have seen ever, and it has hardly begun. Its all about having me walk on plastic for them, as if it hasn't been done for the decades I fixed up houses and leaky vapor barriers. Give me a break.

Taken 04-09-2010, and it is still there, with the visible carpet trim at the base of the wall now covered in brown paper and the same sick green masking tape, and it the first thing I step on when I exit my apartment.

 You get the idea; brown upon brown, poly plastic covering it, seeming to be a both a brown combination test as well as the plastic they like so much to have me exposed to. Which suggests all those marks of the floor pattern have some kind of registry as I walk on them, presumably to aid in further neural intrusions. Or at least, that is my explanation, as this must of been well thought out for them to keep me close to three years, not to mention digging up the streets to reveal the sewer pipes. 

1745h
And more of the promise and prevent games before logging onto this Windows PC. (I can swap the drive out and boot up into Linux, which is where I do my Oracle database studying). The installation instructions went missing, and then a sudden demotivation to do anything came on, and so I shut it down and rebooted in Windows after swapping the boot drive. Not long ago I was suddenly motivated to purchase the Self Test software to help study for the Oracle exams, and then it followed that I couldn't get the Oracle SQLPLUS downloaded as the link went missing for both variants. I have no idea where this more strategic material is going vis a vis me, but it seems deep enough to be more than a year's worth of a fuckery platform. Just what I needed to hear, along with the noises that strangely get through the earmuffs I seem to be wearing more often. I even see ambulatory gangstalking Fuckwits wearing red plastic earmuffs outside now, in the drive to appear stupider. They let/made me obtain earmuffs that were black with a line of red in them back in 2003, but they didn't last more than three weeks when one of the earmuff mounts self-destructed and make them useless. After that, only deep green colored ones were allowed, which is what I am presently wearing.

 And what is the deal with UPS that they don't supply a tracking number when one sends a parcel via them? Is this normal, or is it a "special for me" event, to have me dig out the yellow paper a week later and phone them for a tracking number? And helping this out, the WD RMA people have been good about sending messages as to sending items, but somehow didn't bother when they recieved the hard drive from me. There is a deadline for an RMA return, and as I hadn't heard, and as I didn't have a tracking number, I had to phone the local UPS store to get it from them. Strange, but as I don't send parcels via UPS very often I don't know what their operating procedures are, but they have always struck me as an efficient operation, and don't overlook the details. Anyhow, at least it is an example of what is important to the perps, and that is digging out filed papers, be it a week, month or even years old. They just cannot get enough of this exercise.

And t it is becoming more apparent that the perps like to change the color of the alphabetic characters on this blog posting as I compose it. I see plenty of green colors in the text for some five seconds or so before they change back to black, and it "happens" to be the very same green in the above photos, the masking tape. Like WTF; I am now not allowed to see the alphabet in the normal font, but instead, I get this chromodynamic melange.

1850h
Last night after getting into bed, they played various colors in my eyes, which should of been seeing nothing but black, they put on a glow of all red, then all yellow, then all green, and changed it according to the planted theme I had in mind.

This looks to be a full blown shut-in day, as there is no compelling reason to head out, as the shopping is done. This is another of those mysteries as to why they are so moved to keep me inside for one or two days a week. Which suggests they aren't ready for me to do a full time job if they want to keep this nonsense going.

2150h
A listen to music over this interweb; now punctuated by a morse code like signal beeping through the headphones. I lwas listening to "Mendicino" by Kate and Anna MdGarrigle, one of my most favorite songs, and my in-town brother phones just as it ends. We banter for some five minutes and then he has to go because he was at work. I play another song of theirs, which was supposed to be different, and lo, if it wasn't a different version of "Mendicino". Three earthly angels on that link, the McGarrigles and Karen Matheson; enjoy.

2300h
More youtube infatuations, and then the popping noise started up in the headphones, and it was my mindkeepers that music time was over. Not that I expect speakers would make any difference.

An all round dull day, and it is time to put it to rest.

On With the Grind

1120h
I have been getting the outside construction grinding noise all morning, since I got up at 0745h, and it has continued through laundry and the rage-ification stunts that the perps have put me through. I also got a case of the Pseudosweats, the remotely imposed condition where I am sweating profusely for no reason whatsoever. Part of the game is to play along, and then poof, the condition is abated. Today's Pseudosweat "abatement" games were to have me use a fresh towel to wipe the sweat off, (other two same color towels in the laundry) and then open the window to then hear the grinding noise louder, and have the vibrations penetrate the apartment. This is the usual pattern; set up a constant noise that creates vibration, but with the windows closed, and then a day or two later, the window is opened because of the planted notion of "needing" to cool the apartment down. And by dint of coincidence, it is sunny today, the first in a week or so.

And to add to the noise, vibrations and now vortex action, the vacuum cleaner has started up in the hallway as I am typing this. Perhaps they will finally clean up that trail of white plastic refuse that stretches from my door way to the laundry room, and is likely serving as some kind of color and material type (plastics) reference as I pass by. Regular readers will recall past white plastic "chads" being placed outside my door in my last two residence locations.

And I am also getting an intermittent tapping noise that "happens" during the ongoing grinding noise. This particular noise was also part of the 15 months I stayed at the residence location from 05-2005 to 08-2006, the 10 story apartment block with no one in it but me, and perhaps the "manager". This skinheaded dude (manager) who knew who I was before I met him, was giving me the smirk while passing by. Which, I suppose, confirms just what I mentioned, if I was the only one living in the building, then it was very likely that he knew more about me than I am allowed to know.

Another odd item that "showed up" this morning was a 20" long black hair in the bedsheets, and as I regularly launder them, and have no visitors who even sit on the bed, I have no idea where this would of come from. That statement is not entirely correct; I have a notion that the hair may have come from the perps magical abilities to deliver body or head hair anywhere and anytime they want, and there is a further rumoured (planted) notion as to whose it may be, but I am not going to get into yet more highly speculative statements on this one.

When cleaning the bathroom this morning I was also treated to the "dog hair" assaults, where this body hair, looking like mine, "somehow" arrives just ahead or just after cleaning a surface or object in the bathroom. Once I counted over 40 "dog hair arrivals" on cleaned surfaces when cleaning the bathtub. There is a shimmery metallic maser apparition, and then when I look again, a "dog hair" has been deposited on the surface I am cleaning. I call these "dog hairs" to substantiate the concept that they don't come from me. I have never, ever shed hairs at such a rate, and never, ever been inundated with hairs while I am cleaning the bathroom. Yes, the hairs usually have the color and length that my body hairs do, but there is no way they are falling off me. I even get at least three instances of eyelash hairs around the bathroom sink or on my glasses per day, and if I was really shedding them at that rate I would not have any eyelashes remaining. My eye lash count is most often normal, save one instance over six months ago when it seemed that every other one had been plucked out.

1640h
I did the Tuesday yoga and then gym workout routine, as well as the half hour walk each way. It is the same old; 300 to 800 vehicles on gangstalking duty, clustered by color and type, as well as the myriad vehicles crossing my path, ahead of me or behind me. The red vehicles are clustered in groups of two through six, while the white and silver grey vehicles are clustered at first, then they are sent in singly as a reference for the grouped red, green and light metallic tan vehicles. And the parked vehicles are also ordered and coordinated, likely another 500 of them for the distance that I cover. I have placed pictures in past blogs, so I won't put any more in unless someone really wants them.

And the gym class didn't meet in the usual floor exercise room, but instead, an open area. This meant that the eight or so gangstalkers coursing around me while I was working out could then come and gangstalk me in the group of some 12 of us. I should of seen that one coming, but for the most part, all my defensive and anticipatory thoughts are governed, hence being constantly unaware of what is coming next.

There were more games with green shirts today; a young blonde woman with large breasts and her tongue hanging out was parading about, and then she chummed up with another young woman in a white top. The white topped woman would come to the adjacent machine and work out, and then go back to the green topped woman to meet up. A gangstalking tag team. The other lurking males, some in green shirts would putz around some 15' away, pretending to be busy, and only getting going on some equipment if I looked at them long enough. Then there was another tag teaming among the males; some would get on the equipment I had just vacated, and then meet up with another who had been gangstalking me earlier. At one point, some kid in a violet shirt was following me on the equipment that I used, and then he tag teamed with a old fart in a green shirt, and then next he was outside, making a troll behind the very location when I last saw him working out. I am getting scrambled as I attempt to describe the details, so I will leave it at that.

There were also two new workout class members, a couple as it seemed, which is highly irregular for us supposed day program "mental patients". The male was a big lumbering dude who I immediately recognized from the Seattle harassment days of 2002. Or more correctly, now that my recall can be messed with by remotely applied means, that just may be the planted notion. This dude goes way back into the early street battles with beams and pounding pain targeting, so I am not sure why he was there. Perhaps for recall bait only, though I didn't recognize the woman with him, even if she did smile at me.

As usual, some of the class members are on their own trajectory; arriving when the class is over, not coming to the group session, even if it was a gangstalking extravaganza in the open area and not the floor exercise room.

Currently, this LCD panel has been yellowized which is pissing me off. For segments of my walk back from the recreation center, the perps put a red plasma orb 4' in front of me, about 3" in diameter, and it kept it there and floated it over the concrete sidewalk. For some reason, and it may of been the perp's mindcontrolled reaction, this was pissing me off something fierce. I sense this immediate and intense reaction wasn't my own, as it was escalated from the usual fleeting plasma sightings that I get to one of the persistent ones that are the most bothersome.

I am being jerked with "helmet hair" as another perp instignated curse; this is where my wet hair "dries" as if it had styling gel in it, and then when I brush my dry hair, the "styling gel" immediately dissipates and my hair falls into its normal loose dry state. Anytime my hair gets sweat in it, or when wet from a shower, it takes on this compacted appearence until physically displaced. It used to be that the brown crumbs on my cheeks was the only thing to worry about before setting off, but a new nuisance has been added.

Another nuisance of greater significance of late is the fake touches that I get, usually about 30 to 50 a day. If my hand or arm is close to an object, but is not directly in my vision, I will often get a touch sensation as if I had blundered into the object. When I look, my hand will be still some 2" to 6" away, so I know that it wasn't me blundering into something, but some kind of remotely applied sensation just to piss me off. This fucking game is a constant scourge, and I cannot be left alone to do nothing, but am a target for the perp's sensory fuckaround games.

Today, there was another variant of the "stare at me" games that are going on; it is the flirting look from a passing female, usually under 30 y.o., and it really does make me wonder what the importance of this is. I am over 50 y.o., so I really don't think there is any chance this is truly flirtatious, so it must be a continuation of the staring game that goes on. It could be worse, say from the grey haired demographic detail that is put on wherever I go.

1900h
I had my dinnertime tortillas with a kale pesto instead of the tapenade or the guacamole; both latter choices were "missing" from the deli case today, and instead, there was this large brown cookie display. The olive oil games of late have not gone unnoticed; the same tapenade dyed the olive oil golden yellow or orange, depending on the tub, although both were identical, and tonight's kale tapenade dyed the olive oil a dark green which flowed out in copious amounts. Back to olive oil games again. Funny how my parents have a bottle permanently on their counter and yet never use it. Not a big deal for me, but the perps have had an olive oil fixation for a long time, and I suspect that it isn't over yet. And two like metallic green sedans were parked on the street, in file, to honor the green olive oil games, and no doubt there is greater significance in this than coincidence. Small games for small minds.

2115h
The noisestalking comes in fits and starts; the item that I am reading at the moment it starts up varies considerably. It can be a web page change, or specific trigger words which I will not repeat here to avoid another round of intensified noisestalking.

I noted that the perps put up two ceiling hooks in the bathroom overnight, one on each side of the light, S. side, and N. side. Both are black colored with a sloppy swatch of light colored ceiling paint on them. When I moved in there was a white colored ceiling hook over my bed in the living area. Within a week, a black ceiling hook "arrived" overnight some 6' away in a mirror image position, near this desk unit I am using. I can only assume these are for color referencing purposes, and that the nature of this activity has increased.

I am vehicularly gangstalked by more mid-grey colored vehicles, as if a grey scale testing is being done. The silver grey, white and black colored vehicles are very commonly clustered or at each end of a vehicle train, but of late, there have been many more grey variations, usually with a metallic (or metal flake like) finish. I suspect the metallic finish offers more color and reflectance variations for the perp's games endless color stalking games that go on.

2245h
Time to call this a wrap, after enjoying more Youtube clips of Neko Case. An while with the headphones I got the floor vibration treatment from the perps to remind me that I cannot go away to musicland for even five minutes before I am reminded that I am under the surveillance microscope. The "shakes" as I also call them, are when they shake the floor beneath my chair and ensure that my entire body feels this latest round of intrusion into my personal life, if there ever was such a concept.

Another "crumb story", this one at breakfast; they put two pairs of white crumbs, subpinhead size, on my coffee mugm one pair at each side of my mouth position, and of each pair, one was on the inside, and the other on the outside of the mug. One cannot get anymore scientific and methodical than that, which means we are well down the road of having no ostensible cause to all these events, "crumbinality" being only one of many hundreds.