Christmas in Virtual Prison

1335h
I just had this deleted on me between browser tab changes so here it goes again; the John Prine song, Christmas in Prison comes to mind after being fucked with in terms of knowin where the store is that I set off for to purchase a gift certificate my daughter for Christmas. The only fucking Christmas shopping I do, and the assholes fucked my identically as last year in the same circumstances.This is the way it seems when one is not allowed to find the store one set out for, and there are all the freaks of the Unfavored demographic groups that have come out to accompany me along with the strange aggregations of vehicles. I am still at my apartment, and I was not taken anywhere and nor was I in contact with any LEO (Law Enforcement Officers) or such like.

A day full of arranged sirens, noises of no known (or seen sources), the odd overhead clunking or pounding, protracted brake squealings and many others. They even put on the 1960's siren sound with the modern day version as part of a multi-siren cascade. As is nearly always the case, no actual vehicles were seen or detected as the source, and an abrupt end to all of them, which may have been timed to a web page change, I cannot recall exactly, probably because recollection of these details is getting dithered all the more of late. Part of the designed cluelessness they keep me in, as if a lifetime wasn't enough.

And too, they have been infuriating me more, aka rage-ification, and let me yell louder and longer. Usually they constrict my throat so I don't get good yelling volume, but today, they want louder ragings. And always in response to some dumbshit stunt; the shaving bleeding fuckery hit new levels of annoyance by blocking the steptic pencil from working twice in succession; a literal bloody mess. Any doable alternative to prevent this, like not shaving in this location they keep creating lesions in, is not allowed and doesn't "come to mind".

Then another skunk trip to downtown where they had me looking in the wrong location for this store, and had me give up with no alternate choices allowed. It was a full-on freakshow; though the shiftless males seemed to be in abundance. They even did a shiftless male Fuckwit emerging from the mailbox area as I walked in the building's front door, and then, only 6' away, out comes a blonde from the elevators looking extremely pissed and grim, and in true gangstalker style, gives me the stare for some bizarre reason. So in effect, the shiftless male in a mid-grey jacket passes me on the right side, and the blonde on the left side. The "split couple" gangstalking ploy, except these were made out to be disparate Fuckwits.

I am getting some extreme head pains as I am writing this, and yelling at the assholes isn't helping this time. A blogging cessation for now.

1505h
I have just finished my afternoon tea, with chocolate, and I note that a "suck truck" has arrived outside on the street and is making a horrific noise. It is located at the sewerline manhole that the perps like to visit every so often, which I suspect, is connected to this here apartment building. Was it not that they put this on when I had returned from seven days away, and after taking my first crap in the toilet since getting back, that they had the "suck truck" on the job then, and for at least two days plus other goings on at the same manhole. And don't forget, they ripped up most of the adjacent block's street to lay in new sewer pipes and then buried them under 2' of concrete and then put the road base gravel on top of that, to then compact it and then finally pave. Regular readers will know that the perps are constantly preoccupied with my bodily wastes, and the attendant colors. Hence, the imposed "need" for chocolate three times per day. They cannot get enough of it in close to neural structures which would be one's mouth. Eating is nearly always noisestalked, and often the chocolate inside my mouth will be rotated by no apparent forces. And for those that want to skip the long story, when the perps first invaded my apartment in Seattle in 04-2002, they blocked the toilet with a balloon, and I had to buy a plumber's snake to get it unplugged. And ever since then, the chances of blocking the toilet have gone up to at least 60% of the time. And there has been many other consistent events associated with taking a crap, and I won't get into all that.

2305h
More PC problems, now recovery, and I added a spyware program that gives me results that I don't understand, or more like, aren't allowed to understand as that state of heightened cognitive awareness (attempting to figure something out) is a prime harassment state. All my life, learning problems, and this shit is still going on. Worse, it is managed for by a covert entity.

Picture time for some relief.

Taken 11-30-2008, 1342h 03sec. On the street partially seen through the balcony rail, three red vehicles (two parked in file, one nearly opposite them and heading the other direction. Four silver grey vehicles, two parked in file behind the two red ones, and two on the other side in motion. (The rightmost silver-grey vehicle is a little darker grey). And a city bus in the typical white and red livery, although the perps (likely) changed it to a white with a blue and green line in them, not seen here.
















Taken 11-30-2008, 1342h 11sec. Yet more silver-grey vehicles are following, heading right to left in the closest lane, and a light metallic blue color vehicle was added in as well. This light metallic blue seems to be used as a "starter blue color" when the perps are attempting to get some kind of blue response/energy detection or whatever the hell they are after. Of interest, this light metallic blue color is the same as my parent's Peugot they had for some 12 years.















Crumb games! You will have to believe me on this one, that I did not set this up, as the perps would routinely create shaking hands to prevent me from doing this and unjustly blaming them. All day long I get inundated with crumbs, lint and dog hairs and here is an example where they created chocolate crumbs from the piece that was removed from the edge and arrayed in file progressing from smallest to biggest. I would never think of doing something so utterly fucking stupid, but here it is, and I am sure that it was arrranged to be photo bait as part of the script. While aiming the camera, and before the picture was taken, a red (plasma?) light came forth from the camera and shone on this very scene. And of course I ate the chocolate after the picture was taken, so I am sure there was some value for the perps for me to eat chocolate crumbs, and chocolate sections that had been immersed in red light for about two seconds. Presumably they could remotely detect the difference between the eaten chocolate (before this picture) and the red lighted chocolate (after this picture was taken).















Another "trust me"; the two most disbelieved words in a TI's vocabulary. This is taken at a bus stop, and invariably there is some paint on the ground near where I sit, and in this case red for their later red color games when on the bus.












While at the bus stop I also got my "pals" coming to play vagrant dudes, totally consumed with looking the other way at nothing exceptional. In the far background there are three redi-mix concrete delivery trucks at a new building site, and given the amount of redi-mix trucks that tail me, aka, "redi-mix truck stalking", I am sure they were helping the perp cause in some way. Other interesting, but almost ordinary events are having two silver-grey vehicles at orthogonal angles (one broadside behind the tree), and a yellow cab with a yellow-green Smart car beside it. No "smoking gun" oddities in this picture, only a slice of the action that repeats much of the time.















Calling this one done for today.

Prospective Employer Games

1850h
It seems that those desperate for laborers aren't returning phone calls or emails, so I wonder if this is perpspeak for "find another line of work", even if they had me get steel toed boots and other safety gear for these jobs my daffodil picking "confreres" (read, shills or operatives) told me about in early September before they suddenly cut me off by suspending the crew bus with no advance notice.

I even went to the government employment agency this morning with a huge gangstalking freakshow event downtown, and of course had to go twice, as the counsellor wasn't in when I first went there. Regular TI's are long familiar with having to revisit something/somebody more than once in short order, or retracing one's steps for some concocted reason, and this endless game of "do it again for the assholes" plays itself out in many other functions of a TI's existence. And of course the masers and plasma beams were flitting around the office of the counsellor and in front of her LCD display, just like here at my apartment. It seems to be important to the perps to test me about every month or so and have me look at someone's else's LCD display, usually from off axis and further away than normal. Anyhow, I have an appointment for next week for retraining possibilities, so perhaps this infernal laboring job angle/planted "interest" is now over, that is, not allowed by perp edict and orchestration. That they have me piss away at least $400 on clothing and footwear in advance doesn't surprise me, as they pull this shit all the time. It is called "suck 'n fuck" or bait and switch in less profane terms; initiating planted thoughts, enabling preparation, having me spend the money (or make other major prepatory investments), and then changing the objective, effectively nullifying the effort. That I worked on a software project for over 2.5 years that kept stalling out for various reasons just might have been a precursor event.

Anyhow, I am pissed that I am getting jerked around, and that my remunerative efforts are getting sabotaged in order to fulfil some unkown agency's insane agenda. Or, that is the way it seems to me; any outfit that covertly hounds some innocent individual for over six years by way of planting crumbs in their proximity and like minded juvenility, has to be organizationally insane and/or depraved. And worse yet, it would seem the bulk of this insane abuse is to work around their past fuckups; subconscious traumatization associations and pollutant ingestion (e.g. PVC, PFOA's, bisphenols) that they cannot yet remotely model in energetic (or bioelectromagnetic) terms. And they even put on their PVC pipe bearing gangstalking vehicle on my walking route, even if there wasn't any irrigation projects for blocks, and had it there for the return visit an hour later. They also put on a redi-mix (concrete delivery) truck, which is at least a weekly event, and with the new construction I seen in this neighborhood, will remain a common gangstalking prop.

The perps put on the ambulances for each time I was out this morning, making sure that I had a good line of sight on the flashing white and red lights with the associated noise. They even arranged one of them as I was exiting through glass doors onto the street, so the light/siren show could be seen through glass at first, and then directly. And as soon as I turned a corner some 30' later, the black fuzzy balled masers were coming at me in pairs, the usual formation for these now, and constantly seen in my apartment, often where I am to reach or place an object.

And the lastest variation on the planted crumb games, usually when eating or making coffee, is to have the crumb get smaller and smaller after each time I pick it up. So, a planted (often obviously teleported now) 1/8" diameter crumb will morph into one half the size when under my finger, and then when I attempt to pick up the "remaining" portion, it becomes smaller yet again. Like I said above, this is the product of a billion dollar per year budgeted organization that won't show its face and prefers to prey on individuals by remote means for nonconsensual human experimentation purposes. And has everyone bought in this town, or at least quiescent.

Excursion pictures, 09-15 to 09-22-2008. Did I say that I was often "pallet stalked"? Probably more than once, hence it being a tag; here is another example. No or few residents in this motel, and in the middle of the vacant parking lot, someone has arranged a pallet at the projected corner of the building. And oddly, no one picked it up or moved it for three days.














And the first winery we visited had a fine selection of pallets, those being the orange ended stacked objects in the picture below. There is also a large array of whitish plastic bins for grape picking on the extreme left. And it strikes me as odd that four blue colored vehicles are lined up together begining from the left, and the remaining vehicles largely fit the greyscale profile of white to black colored vehicles with an additional red one in the mix, and then another blue colored vehicle second from the right side, next to the white vehicle. I wasn't entirely sure that this was a "made in perpland" vehicle configuration at the time I took the picture, as it is atypical with the predominance of blue colored ones, and missing an erstwhile and ubiquitous silver-grey vehicle altogether.













This picture seems a little strange, and it was a strange event in visiting a winery that had only two wines for sale, both Pinot Noir, not of great interest to me or my parents. So the visitation time in the wine tasting room was relatively brief, all of a minute or so, but once outside, there was a sudden hive of activity. A tractor-trailer pulled in front of our vehicle, a skinhead arrived to walk beside it with his coffee in hand (cannot be seen), another couple arrived after us and split apart to then have one member on each side of my parent's vehicle (not shown), and when I took a picture of them, it didn't come out. But the instant I took the picture from behind these individuals, the woman turned around and asked me some pleasant tourist questions. Still the weirdness of this one winery visit wasn't over, as a second tractor-trailer came by (not shown) to place itself directly in the road/driveway where I had to make a 180 degree turn to continue the wine tour. That is two tractor trailers, one split couple gangstalking, and one skinhead as part of the Coffee Corps all to "accompany" me on an abortive visit to a winery.














I suppose two red vehicles in close proximity isn't enough for a "conspiracy", but this was the best picture as my camera battery subsequently discharged after this. The remainder of the vehicles fit the white, silver-grey to black greyscale with two blue vehicles in the mix. Not a convincing picture, I admit, but the best one I had from this next day weirdness at a winery before we set off for a longer driving trip that day.












2100h
This is the post evening time tea and chocolate digestion period, and is getting roundly noisestalked as Itype this. I am also getting the infernal forehead numbing torture, and it pisses me off bad. The perps are back to having me eat 100g of chocolate three times per day, and the outside vehicle noise cranks up when I am placing the chocolate in my mouth. I see that they have added some "imperfections" into the chocolate, and have small 1/4" surficial portions dyed a darker brown. And they now have me back on using loose tea instead of Stash tea sachets. I noted the latter were plastic lined, and likely a source of bsiphenol A, hence some discussion when visiting my brother two weeks ago on the First Feral Family excursion, pictures above. And so when I "happened" to mention that I might be taking in bisphenol A through tea sachets, why, my brother had two pounds of vacuum packed loose Chinese tea to give me. But, to be fair, he does visit China about two times per year, and he takes an interpreter who gives him the tea as gifts. The current buzz in this country about banning bisphenol A plastics seems long planned; the perps had me purchase a polycarbonate (bisphenol A containing) plastic water bottle in 2004 which I took three times per week on my hikes, in the days of having a vehicle. Now, a sudden realization that this plastic is a public health concern, and lo, if there isn't stainless steel water bottles availible now. Anyhow, it is a long way of saying the tea leaf games are continuing to cycle; first teabags for years, then loose tea, then back to teabags in sachets, and now loose tea again. And, it is likely the bisphenol A was long identified as a pollutant that gives the perps difficulties in remotely detecting my bioenergetic fields, and having me drink water by the liter from a polluting source still hasn't quelled their ambitions to figure out this conumdrum by remote means.

There are other complexities around plastics with repect to tea; the Bodum teapot has a central basket in which to place the tea, and it is made of a plastic, possibly a nylon. Long ago in the days of innocence when my ex and I would visit her brother and sister-in-law they would bring out tea in a similar glass pot that had a central basket made of glass with drilled holes in it. I was told this teapot was very expensive, and had to make surely I wasn't in any position to klutzily knock it. I always wondered why the sister-in-law was so extremely tense when I visited, and in retrospect it all makes sense from the covert harassment/experimentation perspective. Enough on tea and teapots, but it does seem that one of the perp goals is to have me witness the changing colors of the tea, and that they be able to energetically model the color change to me.

2200h
The overhead pounding has started up while I am reading blogs; I wonder what is so important about this activity that they start this racket up? For the record, yet again, it is 12" of steel and concrete ceiling/floor, and would be humanly impossible to pound by walking or even jumping up and down. The noisestalking is a reasonable tip-off of heightened perp interest with concurent events, and has been relatively consistent over the years as to which events that interest them. Some events like waking up were noisestalked every morning for about two years and suddenly stopped about when I felt compelled (read, mind controlled) to get up. And since then they have never really noisestalked getting up, save the infrequent thumps. Last night the fuckers zapped me (whole head) when I was lying down, waiting to be allowed to go to sleep. I was some pissed about that, and all the more so as I thought this particular form of abuse was long over, as I hadn't had one for months. Wrong, they are still full measure for using any and all methods of abuse that I have come to know and despair.

2230h
Nut-hacking is a long time method of abuse; this is where the perps some kind of pain to my nuts and is often defeatable by closing my legs some more, as this appears to limit their remote energetic detection abilities. So it was a surprise to find that they have developed this method to be applied the instant a new web page displays, and in this case, with a large splash of yellow. So it goes, nothing is safe, and I have heard of worse genital treatments from other TI's, so it demonstrates that I am not the only one getting this particular attack. I often see the operatives with their legs splayed wide open, so I can assume they cannot get enough of a crotch-to-crotch comparison (me to gangstalker). This is similar to one's mouth contents and having gangstalkers spitting, open-mouthing, eating food, moving their tongue about and like mouth content revealing measures while loitering or walking by.

Enough said, and hopefully a less disruptive sleep tonight.

A Live Wire Day

1740h
I didn't post yesterday, and am behind in detailing today's imposed chaos and other stunts. So this this will be brief and will skip the ususal style of providing background on the events.

On 02-03-2008 (yesterday), I was treated to two toilet overflows; the first flush backed up before anything solid had gone down, and then cleared itself on the next flush. Then one more flush, and it magically backed up again, over the top like the first time. These insane toilet and shit attacks go on all the time, but this had to be the worst, creating a 1/2" pond in the bathroom before I cleaned it up with towels.

A total mess, and another forced laundry event, all to deal with the perps' problems with the color brown and the trail of psychic wreckage they created when traumatizing me in my developmental years. Who could be that callous and stupid, and then turn around and fuck the victim 45 years later as to remediating the problem they created for themselves? Not only that, I am totally unaware of these traumatizations, and have long since recovered from them, and likely have recieved recall deleting irradiations and electroshocks in the process. (Which created more traumatizations). Not my problem, go fuck your own kind.

And it was the run up to a busy day helping at the carpet auction, the second Sunday in succession. This was in close to downtown, and didn't require the bus ride (and gangstalking) that went on last week. There were four of us selected for helping out at this carpet auction; one fellow from last week in his same army green fatigues with a mysterious in-fabric brown blotch on one leg, a negro, and a bald headed 55+ y.o. dude. The latter two belong to the freaks of the Unfavored demographic groups, so it was a method to plant these members in close and even have the odd "inadvertent" bump or skin contact arranged.

The carpet auction was the same sad-sack event as last weekend; very few bidders and a wholesale near giveaways. While hauling the carpets back and forth through the kitchen aisleway there were other Unfavored demographic groups members featured to loiter (aka gangstalk) as well; another skinhead, a fat woman, an Asian, a dude in kitchen whites, and a few others who generally hung about, timing their crossing the path just ahead or behind me. The auction was ended early, and I took the bus to my parent's place for dinner.

On the bus they put on a smaller freak show contingent, and the two Indians in turbans seemed to be the big deal, one in a light blue turban, the other in a yellow turban, the former also wearing the identical yellow in a jacket. This pair has been gangstalking before, and they got off at widely different locations than last time, this bus on its way to the suburbs.

My parents were up to their usual gangstalking behaviours, and my father's dementia act suffered another credibility blow when he hand delivered the teapot lid without me asking or mentioning it. Nor was I allowed to note that variance then, only sometime later. Normally, I notice nearly all discrepancies from their expectable behaviors, but not any more, (read, mind controlled attention and deletion of my knowledge).

The Superbowl isn't a big event for them, and nor for me; football is one of those "don't get it" sports, not unlike rugby; all that complexity, rules, and short term action. Instead, the usual Global News was on, and the volume was turned up for reasons that became apparent. The harassment rationale became clear when called to cut the roast while Kristy Gordon, the efferescent meteorologist and attractive blonde was delivering the TV weather forcast. This is the second recent incident where I was treated to a background of a blonde woman nattering away while my attention was directed to matters close at hand. And it should be noted that the perps nearly always have my gangstalking parents in close around me when I am cutting the roast; this activity of intense fascination to them for whatever reason. One could impute that the background blonde's nattering patter served the perps in some capacity, more than a brunette's for some reason best known to the perps. And it should be mentioned that I have been listening to this Sunday news broadcast for over 4 years, so the voice is highly familiar to me.

Other weirdness that came on yesterday was that my ex-wife phoned to tell me that my once-thought best friend's (since highschool) mother passed away, and that he was up-Island, some two hours north, as the funeral was the next day. Anyhow, there was some strangeness going on about the phone call, but she said she would later supply his phone number. It was most strange that my ex-wife would be even invited to the funeral as she met the woman only once at best, where my history goes back to countless visits.

Later, I phoned my friend, and the interaction seemed to be weird as he really didn't have anything to say except that her demise was merciful, and that I could come to the funeral by way of "catching a lift" with my ex-wife. I didn't make any commitment, and the call ended on that note, this from someone who was my best buddy until he moved to Ontario in 1986, but who I kept in touch with often. Ever since the harassment began, he visited once in the early stages, and I hadn't heard from him since. So, the perps decided for me that a late invitation wasn't really one at all, especially if there was no reason for the delay in notification, especially through a third party. (As in, why did he phone and tell my ex-wife all about this, who he never liked very much, and not phone me or my parents?)

02-04-2008 today
And lo, if my ex-wife didn't come by just before I got out of bed (at my parents place), and "stop over", before headed to the funeral. I call this a "surrogate gangstalking", where someone substitutes as a gobetween, where in this case, the perps want to keep me apart from my once-thought best buddy. Needless to say, all once-friends were involved in this harassment from the getgo, and friendships have been re-evaluated. My mother "happened" to have some sympathy cards on hand, and I filled one out and sent it on with my ex-wife. She also brought her new poodle puppy, only 8 weeks old, and it was a cute and playful diversion.

Then on with the real games this morning, that being my mother's PC and the ongoing games with renewing the Norton Antivirus software. Then, after all the fugly Symantec yellow Windows boxes were tucked out of sight, I then went to the Shaw site, the ISP, to attempt to download their antivirus solutions, as they were at no cost. My mother did her usual waving of fingers and hands in front of the CRT display, absurdly to the point of over obviousness. But as it so "happened", I could not log into the Shaw site, and it seemed that there was a problem with the PC handling encrypted information, hence her earlier problems with paying for the Symantec subscription. Then, with more of her story telling, it seemed that the PC had a problem, and the operative gangstalked concept was for me to mention the "word du jour" being "encryption" and like terms relating to "secure" internet communications. As mentioned once, I don't have conversations, I get elicitations. With all the pissing around with Shaw's technical support being uncharacteristically slow, the perps had me sitting in front of the CRT (read ring magnet) for nearly an hour. Only later did I find out that they had forced a small face bleed while I was sitting there, as my shaving was long over. And lo, if there wasn't a black vehicle, then a white vehicle, and then a black pickup with a white canopy going past my parents place while I was waiting for my mother to get off the phone. (All headed the same direction and no intervening vehicle colors). There were only three parked vehicles visible outside; a black vehicle, a white vehicle and a mid-grey vehicle. Funny how that happens. Behind the black vehicle was another white vehicle as I later found out when driving past.

As always, there was a light rain shower when we set off, the windshield wipers of my parent's vehicle were in their usual atrocious state, and a host of gangstalking vehicles were arranged for the 10 minute trip to the PC repair shop that I usually use. At one location, the perps had arranged three lanes wide of white, black, silver grey and mid-grey vehicles, about 15 to 20 of then in a cluster, all starting off together at the green light. I got my lead-ahead stalker when pulling into the parking lot of the PC repair shop, a red-headed dude in a white vehicle giving me some kind of grin as he "happened" to be immediately outside the vehicle when I got out. This appears to be a prime gangstalking moment, just when I exit the vehicle; hence the large numbers of vehicles on the street where the gangstalkers are egressing them in some way; looking into their trunks, leaving the doors open and the rest of the loitering they do to obvious excess.

And the usual game in conveying the nature of the PC repair is that my mother goes on about a number of irrelevancies while "I" (in the collective mind controlled sense), form what would be a whole lot more concise explanation. Then after a number of interuptions, something the perps have planted on me my whole life, I finally get to convey what the repair is about, using the "word du jour" again, "ecryption". Then there was a whole lot more babbling from my mother about her credit card and how it was "screwed up" in attempting to pay for her Symantec subscription, and more about "encryption" again, and the deed was finally done. The perps like me to go on about "memory", in reference to the computer, as this is what happened last time with my mother's PC, even if my diagnosis was flat wrong. That word was also noisestalked by a loud throat clearing when talking to the system tech at the office I helped out a month ago.

Then afterward, she asks about where we can go for lunch, and lo, if we don't go to a location where we have been a few times before, only a block away from my apartment building. The food is good, and the service is excellent, and there are many dishy waitresses abounding. Today, we got a waiter, and he was friendly and attentive in every normal context, no complaints. The perps kept the attractive dishy babes at the periphery of the resturant this time, save one who came by with milk for my mother's coffee. Closer in, the less attractive blonde women were customers, being served and they made the odd cell phone call, one at the corner of the storefront windows. This was the first time we were seated at a table, the past three instances were booths. By dint of fuckery, my mother's Ford Escape was in view from the table, the stunt being that it was parked closer to the restaurant by way of modifying the parking meter rates so only the cheaper ones were closer, and the more expensive short term parking meters were oddly located in mid-block.

And to no surprise, especially as the meal progressed, there were more and more individuals wearing red and brown, some cruising 10' away, and then eventually finding a table close by. There were two dudes at a table 6' away, and behind a potted plant, who spent and inordinate amout of time with their head turned in our direction, either looking at us, or looking past us. I have never seen anyone expend so much time looking 90 degrees from their seated orientation. That one had his mouth hanging open often was not too surprising from the gangstalker behavior perspective, it is entirely "normal" for them to do this in my proximity. It is all part of the ongoing curse of having a stalking posse of fanatical abusers who are attempting to redress the reckless ambitions of their psychotic forebears. The perps cannot yet model the neural color energetic interactions in my mouth with respect to my food, and possibly my mouth physiology. By having their shills and operatives clustered around me with their mouths open, and having them eat the same menu items as I do, they hope to be able to master this particular vexing conunumdrum. Now, 5.5 years of attempting to determine my mouth color energetics, here they are, clustering me with blondes as the "auric goodness" leveraged in some way to that of the dudes, putting on the open mouth stupid act. One couldn't pay me enough to look that gormless.

One particularly fugly setup was the young blonde woman "working" by the visible wood fueled oven flames who had plentiful streaks of red in her hair. It was too much to look at more than once, but as always, I don't have any say in what I look at. There were at least another 10 forced sightings of this grotesque hair color when I had no intention of looking that direction again. Per J. K. Harms, links to the right, flames are a "space time ripper", and have been consistently used in past perp events to up the ante for surveilling my deep neural reactions to anything unsightly or odious.

And of course, one never knows who any person/gangstalker really is, as they like to use past stalkers known to me, but change their form and appearance to appear to be someone else. That dude looking my direction at great length could of been my in-town brother for example, as a restaurant situation in morphover would allow him to sit further away while eating than at a family function. (And where did that insightful notion come from?).

Then a strange conversationa tack at the restaraunt, though not if one understand's the perps motives; my mother asked me for the name of Ms. C in the story, asking if I communicate with her. She pretended not to know her name, and when I said it, she asked me to repeat it, making out that she did not hear or understand. This bullshit went four rounds before she "got it", making me wonder why she keeps this fucking act up. In the past, she has purposely mispronounced it. Anyhow, she made out that she was mildly interested in her travails, though no insights as to what she thought of Ms. C, who visited my parents once, and came to visit in 2003 for my extended incarceration in hospital. As Ms. C was a planted operative, I suspect that she has had many morphover forms, and I have likely met her many more times since, and possibly beforehand.

The restaurant meal seemed to be the lead up to having me walk by the street rip-up when I walked back to my place; there was plenty of excavator and gravel slinging action with plenty of "workers" buzzing around after last week's big concrete pour where they put down some 2.5' of concrete, for some 150' at a road width, 30' or so. The plastic tarps over the weekend had been lifted off, and this was the gravel overlay operation. No wonder there were at least three redi-mix trucks on gangstalking duty today, one trolling by the window of the aforementioned restaurant.

Later, I updated my Quicken records and reconciled them with the online bank statement. The perps get no end of mileage by enraging me for the entire time of doing this task, and have turned it into an extreme form of advanced abuse. They have blocked my bank statement web display so I cannot reverse the displayed order of transactions, making it read chronologically from bottom to top, while Quicken reads oppositely. But this isn't enough adversity for the sick minds that turn this into a nonstop rage show; they constantly screw with my cognition so I lose track of where I am in the list, have me "misread" across a horizontal line of text, change the data on the page between views, change the color and boldness of the lines and colored areas, change the Quicken account on me, add extra transactions that I did not enter, and otherwise screw with everything I do in this exercise. All the while, extra outside noise, overhead pounding, hallway hacking and typo sabotage is scripted. It is a totally ugly scene, and it is no surprise it was scheduled for a Monday, the day I return from my parent's place, when they pour on the abuse. Like most Mondays, I expect not to get to sleep for at least an hour after going to bed.

2010h
The post meal digestion noisestalking games are now featuring; the on-offing of the "neighbor" water use noise, the timed coughings from the hallway at web page changes, and then there are the other phenomenon as well; the extra flashing of Windows boxes that make no sense (never happened before), and the maser and plasma action over and around the LCD display.

I got another odd event during the dusk onset. At the height of the pitched battle with the perps over updating my Quicken records for January, a woman knocked on the door and introduced herself as a filmaker who will be making a film about the residents of this apartment building, the "Chelsea", to be loosely fashioned after Andy Warhol's experimental film, titled the "Chelsea Girls". And she had auburn hair, so I can only assume this was part of the schtick, as the perps have been busy presenting a subset of gangstalkers of this hair color, a near-red hair color. The assumption is that it is to bait my subconscious loathing of red hair, as per the Unfavored demographic groups. This is the third such person with this unusual hair color in a week, when it was rarely seen before. As the intended film is to portray the lives of the characters who live in the Chelsea, I was duly controlled to convey my state of extra-conventional abuse and harassment, and tell her that if she finds that my story won't skew her film to the way weird, I would be happy to tell her about it. And the perps made sure I noticed her beautiful angle chin and jaw, proportionately and attractively formed. Again, chin and jawline seem to be a big factor in determining the Favored from the Unfavored.

Haven't we been here before; a film maker, interested in the TI scene, and then is never heard from again? That may have been a "warm up" for the avowed film maker who claims that she will be temporarily staying in this apartment building to undertake the production and filming. And of course, it is all the more ironic if it is true that there are no neighbors living in this apartment building as it seems, consistent with the last two residence locations, who then is going to be the real subject of this film? Too early to tell, and of course there are many layered games going on, of which I am the last to know.

One layered them is the Warhol angle that the perps have long lined me up on; not that I followed his carreer very much, and only when I found Bob Colacello's autobiography (Holy Terror) from the Warhol years did I ever form a complete picture about what really transpired in those heady days. And it "so happened" at the carpet auction yesterday, the auctioneer brought in artwork as well, and lo, if one of them wasn't a Warhol reprint. It is all too convenient, and strange that this angle is getting perp attention in the past two days. I makes me wonder what the perps had on him and his entire scene.

2245h
Time to call this done, no matter how mny strange pings I am getting in my ear tonight, the latest escalation of NOC, No Ostensible Cause, harassment games.

Dog Day Fridays

1355h
I am having an enforced "demotivation" about going anywhere today, another version of "shut in" time that the perps so assiduously foster.

The overhead pounding started up last night, within 5 minutes of being horizontal in bed, plus they also gave me a simutaneous zapping which pissed me off, and I was "obliged" (read, mind-fucked) to verbally respond to. This was about midnight, and under the cover story of "moving" by overhead "neighbors". As before, when the upstairs "neighbors" conduct the same noises (mostly) at the same juctures (unbidden thoughts, coordination with other noise, web page displays etc.), over five succesive residences in two countries over five years, then they cannot be mere mortals, i.e. the random possibilities of human occupation. It is more concerted noise of a specific nature, to continue noisestalking as part of their neural energetics assay activity for the quest of 100% mind control, and the rest of the depraved agenda.

This morning the logging whistles went off again, the same noise that would "erupt" at the same time of day as my last residence location, at least a half mile away. It is a noise that is familiar to me from my long ago working time in forestry, though I was never involved in active logging. Anyhow, the perps like to play this noise when I am "coming to", being slowly aroused from the sleep they have managed.

There was also an awakening to see their "grainy picture show", where everything looks very grainy for some reason, likely related to how they play about with light. Why do they need to wake me up for this, and what do they get from it is beyond me, but typically I am in some kind of semi-awakened state, and no doubt some brain energy pathways are turned off for their convenience in studying the remainder which they seem to have a "problem" with, as in not being able to fuck it around.

I got a white light stroboscoping light show to send me off to sleep; usually the perps put this on and I bury my face in the pillow so to avoid it. Not this time, as they played it in my mind or my sight detection part of the brain, just to keep it going for whatever purpose they have as an objective. That is, I could still "see" this stroboscope show in my closed eyelids that were planted into the pillow. I have some kind of aversion to their stroboscoping games, and this may also be color specific. I always "pass" the standarized red EEG stroboscoping tests to determine for epilepsy, and that isn't too bad. (This is where they put on the sensors on one's head, and have the patient look into a stroboscope image, usually in red).

After the extreme number of emergencies of two days ago, there has been at least three major siren cascades so far, and I am quite sure it is part of this concerted noise assault program, as the actual vehicles rarely surface. It is projected noise, from some control room in one of the heavily aerialled buildings (at least three) in this town. There is more of a high pitched noise flavor over the past week; more brake squealings, children's voices, sirens, air pressure releases and a few others they like to introduce.

2000h
I finally did get out and attempt to cash a rebate check at the bank earlier this afternoon, but I should of not bothered and stayed in a fugue state. The bank was nearly flowing out the door with "customers" so I didn't bother to go inside. I need to see a teller and get more rolls of quarters for these infernal 20 year old coin operated machines in the building. Though in fact, I suspect this serves the perp assholes more than anything. In my experience, they have every last crumb and item of litter all figured out in advance, and where it belongs in the script.

And it was the usual freak show to go 1.5 blocks downtown and partake in the throngs of gangstalkers; it was a Friday afternoon, so it was an all-out gangstalking event. The same individuals who were at an intersection waiting for the pedestrian traffic control when I was headed for the bank, "re-appeared" at that same intersection only 2 minutes later after I turned around outside the bank. These were young Asian boys both wearing black with white hats on, one being a wool toque on one of the hottest June 01 on record. Go figure. There are black and white vehicles parked on the street outside my apartment building as I am typing this.

And the perps figure I need more close-in motorcycle "exposure" (whatever the fuckers get from it), and parked two in one block on the sidewalk, in small alcoves so as to not block egress (excepting the doorway to the buildings).

Another "whatever" was that they put a redi-mix (concrete delivery) truck headed S. as I waited at the traffic control, and then at the next block it was headed N. This was when I was headed into the bank. Then on my way back, they put on a second redi-mix truck with a different coloration heading right through downtown. Clearly, there were no deliveries to make, and this was all about gangstalking. As I mentioned in past blogs, I usually get about five per week now, as this form of vehicular gangstalking has been increased.

When I owned a house, I made concrete many times, and I had two major pours for landscaping, and I think it is about time that the perp nutters who are constantly placing concrete jobs, pours, delivery trucks etc. in my proximity got their sick asses out of the closet, and fessed up to this criminality, all to expedite their own "research"/torture agenda. That way, they could get the results in a week instead of harassing thousands of TI's all over the world in covert fashion for decades in some cases. For my part, (concrete pouring and smoothing activities), it is a case of been there, done that. So why is the perps' problem made to be mine?

And as a response, I get faked bus noise and performance muffler noise, one following the other, and no causal vehicles to be seen. Some kind of answer from the billion dollar budgeted cowards and their litany of illegality. Imagine working for an organization where everything that is to be done is illegal; surveillance, harassment, event construction etc.

2230h
More web surfing; the vision impairments have started up in their usual late day phase. Yesterday was an exception as this form of harassment started first thing in the morning. My theory on that was it was for me to mention at the yoga class check-in, and lo, if there weren't some yoga exercises we all did. Way too convenient. And I suspect that looking the the extreme left, right, up, down, and the four intermediary cardinal directions was to serve the perps' interests to have one eye looking through the glasses while the other was looking out from behind them. The perps expend no end of effort in having me view an item seen directly, through glass, through safety glass (has an embedded plastic layer), through plexiglass, through poly, and any other substance that is transparent or translucent. Then add in all the possible colors and their combinations, and that amounts to thousands of variants. No big deal to these psychopathic nut cases harassing the living fuck out of my life. Just plant another noise; a bell tingling and then a bus noise from outside.

I better stop before there is any more noise baiting and blog off.

Soap in the Eyes - All Morning

1130h
The annoyance game has extended to having either grit like or soap sensations in my right eye today. And there wasn't the usual cover story of it "happening" to flow into my eye when showering this morning. The ever variable cover story need; something I have not figured out.

The radius of planted blunder sensations has also increased in the past few days; this is the sensation of banging or bumping into something proximate when in fact I did not. This applies to the hands and fingers, as well as legs, typically when I am moving or active. The sensation is created at the same time a characteristic noise is also fabricated, providing the momentary notion that in fact it was a genuine blundering into something. Usually one glance confirms that one's limb was nowhere near the object to warrant this sensation and coincident noise, and of late, the perps have me "blundering into" objects that are at least 12" away. Before that, it was more like 2" away, or else they wouldn't bother faking it. Again, another variable need for a cover story gets dispensed with, or diminished.

And it is back to the longer mandated sleep times of the last residence; the fuckers had me sleeping for 9 hours when I had been on a near normal 8. Funny how the doctor asked about this only a few days ago, and now it has been fucked with. This is the typical managed coincidence that occurs.

I am getting the "neighbor" invoked rumbling noise, as if they have sliding glass doors that are one order of magnitude noisier than anyone else's (including mine), but are somehow easy to push, and then they engage in hyperactive balcony access that is usually timed to me swearing at more typo sabotage, or a uncontrolled thought that passes through, usually in response to what I am currently typing. Or, when a "left-field" thought comes through, usually an associated variant of what is currently topical. One such was when I was reading about vehicle engines and green initiatives and I suddenly recalled that the perps were gangstalking me with a biofuel tanker yesterday, possibly the first one I have seen in this city. Mostly, I get gangstalked with conventional petroleum sourced gasoline and heating fuel tankers, at least six per week.

The redi-mix concrete delivery truck gangstalking has also increased; I get at least four per week, sometimes two per day. The perps have also upped the red colored cabbed dump trucks; I get the same one, or appearing to be the same, dump truck at least twice per outing, and only a half block from my apartment building, sometimes speeding in the downtown quarter, a totally absurd safety prospect unless one knows that the streets and intersection controls are being managed in advance. So far, I haven't seen any unconventional physical forces applied to vehicles, though it would not surprise me before long. By controlling gravity and the physicality of everything, they could safely stop anything in an instant.

The maser and plasma games are on full time, a now constant feature of my visual field, along with vision impairment fuckery. One stunt this morning was to blur my visual field while shaking the last of the hair conditioner out of the plastic bottle when in the shower. Totally unrelated physical events that were "somehow" joined in time. Put that in your clinical hat and explain that one for you sick minded sycophantic naysayers. And I have also mentioned the perp's fixation on plastics and their likely absorption into one's body cells, possibly neural cellular structures, and this seems to drive them nuts. I get my PVC pipe packing "irrigation services" vehicles gangstalking me at least once per day now, and if driving my parents' vehicle, they are dogging me the entire journey. My portable PVC respnance testing reference. Even placing PVC chairs out in these trendy nearby cafes is not enough it seems.

Related to the games that go on with various plastics and likely pollutants that are inside me and that cause the perps such grief, which means me as the net consequence of their games, was an interesting stunt they pulled with my shaving razor. Two days ago they launched the razor handle and its blade across the sink under the guise of being near something else that I was moving, and dumped it on the bathroom counter, and then flicked the blade from the handle and dumped it down beside the toilet onto the floor. Just another fuckover game for the sickos. But interestingly, "I" somehow managed to reassemble the blade in backwards into its mount in the razor handle, and it stayed in position, looking as if it were correctly mounted. Then yesterday, there was a siren immediately before beginning shaving, and then another one occuring as I took the razor handle and attempted my first shaving stroke. Needless to say, it did not cut any stubble, and I reversed the blade in the handle and proceeded to shave. The timing of the siren noise suggests the perps wanted to get a neural noisetrack of the immediate before and during of using the razor blade in reversed position. The big attraction for the fuckers was that there are Teflon rub strips on the razor blade housing, and they needed it reversed while putting on the noise bullshit. Like I have blogged before; there is a neural investigation component to this harassment, as determined by the selective noise assaults, as well as attempting to track the energetic effects of widely dispersed (teflon) pollutants, PFOA's. These have been found in polar bears, and no one knows how they have become so dispersed. As before, it is not my problem, so why am I being fucked over for it? (And I had something else to add, and I got fucked out of that notion, something that is "occuring" all too often of late.

1220h
The coughstalking is back, this in concert with me visualizing some kind of thoughts in response to reading about the physical configuration of a design of a supposed free energy device. It was impeccable timing, and a precise replicate of what routinely transpired at my last residence location, the putative rooming house. Now more shaking and overhead floor whacking noises are starting up. In fairness though, there is significantly less in-house "resident" noise in this apartment building than the latter location.

1345h
There is a concerted rumbling noise, siren noise, and an entirely new stunt, "clickstalking". The perps have decided to create regular clicking sounds from the stove, even if it is off (no burners on), and don't need a cover story for this. And as it so "happens", the clicking occurs at the very same instant that I click my mouse, and more than onces. Now some kind of tapping has started up, and presumably is part of the show, as it resonates as if a pipe was being manipulated.

This is the post lunch period, where they go beserk more often than not, and for tracking the energetics of food digestion I suspect, especially since I eat brown colored tortillas every day, as per mind fuck games that are applied to me.

I mentioned this to the doctor and caseworker at Wednesday's appointment, and said how uncharacteristic it is, but they said nothing. And in hindsight, and likely planted hindsight, I realize how acquiescent they were; as it so happens, the caseworker gave me an introductory letter to take to a commercial kitchen that prepares frozen meals for low income persons, me being one. It was mighty curious that she didn't remind me of it at the time, but chances are it was one of those all too familiar scripted "dead moments", when I respond, and the fuckers I am talking to don't. This is consistent with what has happened in the long past, where I appear to have the last word, even if there is plenty more to talk about or debate. In this case, it was blatant relevant knowledge supression.

And as I typed that, the typo sabotage increased, "I" swore at the fuckers, and simultaneously, the in-house tapping noise started up. There is no time when I have freedom to say anything, assuming it is even me that is doing it, and I suspect not, and even my reactions are mind-fucked into being.

There has been the odd time in recent weeks where I have had a reaction to some perp affront, and the fuckers wouldn't allow me to say anything; I was totally incapable of vocalizing for a second or so, another never-before event. My read on this was that I had a reaction/thought they didn't plan for, and therefore weren't timely with the word insertion. There have been a few other instances of being totally frozen in what to do, and I attribute these to the same reason; wilful or unexpectedly applied moments of a cognitive impasse remotely applied, and likely to tell me that I have no volition whatsoever in what I say, do or think.

1410h
Here is a blog posting that summarizes the work of Nikolai A. Kozyrev (1908-1983), and makes reference to ether vortices, and their fundamental nature in the physical world. What I find interesting is the analogy to likening this flow of energy to that of a sponge (objects and beings) being immersed in water (the ether energy);

Though it would seem impossible to most people, Kozyrev showed that by shaking, spinning, heating, cooling, vibrating or breaking physical objects, their weight can be increased or decreased by subtle but definite amounts.

This, in a nutshell, explains why the perps are constantly causing objects to bang, collide, vibrate, and the rest of their remote manipulations. They are remotely assaying this vortex energy, though other names have been applied depending on the researcher; torsion, scalar, gravitational, zero-point, vacuum energy, etc.

And this excerpt would explain why the assholes are constantly pissing me off and having me be "ragefied" in "my" reaction to their fuckover stunts, typo sabotage being one abiding example:

Even more importantly, the fact that strong emotional energy could also cause a measurable at-a-distance reaction has been repeatedly documented not just by Dr Kozyrev but many others, and this is where our concepts of psychic phenomena and consciousness come into the picture.

And even more likely is that the perps are after some kind of "holy grail" outcome that, in their estimation would be compromised should they overtly experiment on a cooperative subject, hence the unrelenting harassment of their subjects world-wide. This excerpt hints at some kind of material matter and consciousness interaction, though the magnitude of the discovery is not apparent to me, or else (and more likely), I am not allowed to think as to what the ramifications are:

The data show that, somehow, a change in the mass consciousness of humanity affected the behaviour of electromagnetic energy in computer circuits around the world, especially those computers nearest to North America. This suggests that torsion waves and consciousness are essentially identical manifestations of intelligent energy.

This infers the capability to make objects move and reform simply by thought alone; no wonder the fuckers want to get there first, so they can repress everyone else from having such powers.

Another game of the perps, having vehicles course around me, turning corners in various colors and directions, is alluded to in the description of the importance of spin:

The Einstein-Cartan theory, which in 1913 established a theoretical basis for the existence of torsion fields, predicts that there is either right-handed or left-handed torsion in space, depending on the location. Subsequent discoveries in quantum physics related to the notion of "spin" confirmed that "electrons" have "right-handed" or "left-handed" spin, meaning that movement will be detected that is either clockwise or counterclockwise. All atoms and molecules maintain varying degrees of balance between right- and left-handed spin. Kozyrev determined that strongly right-handed molecules such as sugar can shield torsion effects, whereas strongly left-handed molecules such as turpentine strengthen them.

And as fructose has a reverse spin, that might explain why the perp assholes have stopped me from having fruit for the past 10 months. The mention of plastic also confering spin properties also explains why their operatives are gangstalking me constantly with plastic bags, as well as fucking over every application of Cling Wrap that I have attempted in the past five years.

And that also would explain why after I cleaned up the tar on the fridge (with paint solvent, a turpentine derivative), that mysteriously erupted at the last residence location, why they gangstalked me so heavily when I went out afterward to the grocery store.

And could it be that this article on Kozyrev was written for me to make many references? I have never encountered any web information that had so many "hits" to it in terms of explaining the harassment methods and objectives. Anyhow, no matter how this link was concocted, if the contents are largely true, then it ties substantially more of these perp games together in a neat bundle.

1855h
This is the post-dinner period, one usually noisestalked. Tonight the street screamers and whistlers are on duty, although other noise is added into the mix. It is still light out, and the reflections that "happen" to beam into my apartment have yet to begin.

The perps pulled another late afternoon nap on me, the third in succession when I get plenty of nightime sleep to begin with. They start this napping bullshit at about 1630h, and tonight I recieved over 1.5 hours of naptime. It is fucking absurd, as was the in-nap setup of a woman calling out in with some dude attempting to help her. The street whistling is still going on, and I find it totally implausible that I would hear it in such detail at six stories up. There is also some in-house (conrete construction) overhead pounding as well, another manufactured event as no one could physically shake concrete by walking over it in a conventionally constructed building.

1925h
After reading more about torsion energy, the 2 cycle motorcycle noise has been sustained, and for near hilarity, "someone" has started up the glass bottle bashing noise in the hallway, a "feature" of the last residence location, the putative rooming house. It is most strange that these identical noises follow me here, as well as ones that are unique to the concrete constructed apartments of the past. As mentioned in a previous blog, there is some kind of floor whacking noise with a soft object, such as cable, that causes a backbeat noise. This same sound has followed me to four locations over two cities. Funny how "I" didn't recall this at the doctor's office when he was asking me about any surprises as to this new location. I told him that the degree of noise was unexpected in that it should be largely dissapated at six floors up, based on personal experience from long ago. Giving him the full rundown on the anomalous noises was not allowed by the perps, whose ability to fuck with my recall has been increased over the past year.

2120h
More vision impairing fuckery as I attempt to read about zero-point energy, remote viewing and the rest of the phenomenon that go with it, including telepathy, reincarnation etc. This is obviously a perp "hot spot", but why they continue to harass me over what I read is beyond me, and isn't my problem. Yet they make another instance for pissing me off, and keeping up their concurrent noise assault. Some kind of in-house tapping keeps on, well past any maintenance activity.

Today has been a shut-in day, where somehow "I" lacked the ability to head outside and get a few errands done, one being the acquisition of omega-3 per doctor's request. Some more thought on this one suggests that the perps cannot distinguish the energetics of the body's fatty acids, so they want me to take a supplement that is a subset of this important compound.

This is almost another case of "been there, done that". Back in 2000 and 2001 they had be load up on omega fatty acids as part of a ADD (Attention Deficit Disorder) amelioration, and for two weeks or so there was a positive improvement for at least my vision. Then, like nearly all supplements and medications which prove effective, the benefits drop off, and are no more. To me, that suggests the perps are manipulating some of the body's responses, and governing them downward. With this upcoming omega 3 fatty acids supplement, I wonder what the perps have done to the contents. Things like radioactive tracers are not all that difficult for the fuckers to plant in these compounds in advance of my purchase. They regularly screw with my drinking water, as it seems some kind of electrolysis is going on, for all the bubbles that form in the bottle when I bring it home.

2240h
More clunking overhead, some being of the patented perp noises from past apartment buildings. Though, the rumbling of "neighbors sliding glass doors" has also had hyperactive occurences as well. A dull day and evening, and time to call this one done.

Back Online, Post-Move Debrief; added 05-03-2007 update

1155h
I am connected again, both phone and internet run off the same coaxial "cablevision" cable. The Asian skinheaded installer with the grotesque tatoos on his arms took over an hour; the difficulty was having the intercom system connected (twisted pair line) to the cablevison line. But because the typical phone outlet was on was on the N. side of the hallway, and the "cablevision" on the S. side, he had to run a physical line to connect them that crossed the bathroom door, the entrance door and the closets. This is similar to the in-pavement street wirings the perps undertake, except that they now have me similarly covered right in my own apartment. Of course I wasn't allowed to contemplate what he had planned, per designed cluelessness, a condition that is becoming more prevalent of late.

He made sure to do his head bobbing, the round hairless one that it was. And I suspect, the perps made me look at it more than I wanted to, as I am quite sure that they control nearly every aspect of my attention. This is based on the fact that "I" look at the strangest things or places when I am engaged in another activity. This is another example of changed behavior since the assholes invaded my life, Before Over Harassment, or BOH as I call it.

He also did his slow clothing change, a move that repeats in many instances these days. This usually occurs where I have extended contact with someone, say for more than ten minutes. They almost always take off, or put on, and item of clothing in my presence. In the former instance, they usually remove a grey or neutral colored clothing item, often to reveal a T-shirt which exposes their arms, which may be decorated with tatoos, something I am loathe to see, especially in quantity. In his case he had a dark brown colored T-shirt, and I assume that there was some kind of energetics interaction the perps were looking for in combination with his light brown skin tone.

As part of the clothing games today, the perps put on an operative in front of me at the checkout line with his black leather jacket half-on. He spent the entire time with his jacket covering one arm and over half his back with the other half draped and exposing his deep burgundy colored shirt. This also tells me the perps don't have much of a clue as to the color energetics interactions if they are going to be this blatant about their methods. In earlier days they would of put on an operative changing into or out of his jacket, having "just decided" in the checkout. But for them to have this fucker there half dressed is way too stupid, even for this hikey-bikey town.

I have also remarked in the past at the profusion of leather garments in this town, in much greater number than ever before. Mostly the "leatherjackets", as per the insect's common name, are in black, though the perps will sometimes arrange another color in concert with nearby other colors, including those of adjacent parked vehicles. My theory is that leather garments are highly energetically reflective from the various tanning metal salts, hence their widespread use in the operative's wardrobe.

The moving of my belongings from my brother's place was partially complicated in that he was also moving his sort-of-girlfriend, a native Indian woman, to another location in the city, as her job location has moved. (She has her own place). This created an intermingling of the moving parties who were conducting moving out of the same house and driveway locations. At one point, the perps had arranged three of them standing outside on sentry duty "waiting" for me to exit the house. No one explained how she got so many of her items at my brother's place when she did not need to store any items there as she had a two day head start in moving. nor did my brother explain his obsession over relocating brown colored items about; a canvas tarpaulin, a foam cushion, and various slips of cardboard. The items that I tucked away "somehow" were retrieved for me to see again, sometimes in differing lighting conditions (inside his basement, in his shaded carport, and then outside in direct sunlight).

And it was no surprise in hindsight that some of her items were placed on mine, the ironing board, long an item of considerable interest to the perps, (as part of the laundry process, which always merits intensified harassment), being one such example. Think brown, and brown colored skin tones, as this being a subset of the perps' longstanding fixation on this color and all its energetic ramifications.

Moving was brutal; the actual physical relocation of my belongings from two locations went OK, but the perps put me through all manner of adversity in putting items away, wiring up the computer, putting the Ikea furniture together, and anything else that I had to assemble, sort, order, box etc. For nearly all of the eight hours of unpacking and assembly they had me cursing their planted fuckery. As an example, I would tap in the pins to support the shelves, put the mallet down, and when I turned around again to resume the next task, the fuckers pulled out the pin out again. This kind of juvenile bullshit was sustained for all my unpacking and move-in activity.

As usual, the perps laid on sustained street noise, which has been amplified (aka augmented) to be constantly louder than it would be otherwise. I am six stories up, and the noise is louder than my last in-town apartment one block away that was four stories up with no appreciable traffic count difference. The noise volume is barely attenuated from that of street level. Past travelling experience in Europe tells me that above three stories there was rapid attenuation of vehicular traffic noise, and at six floors the noise was at a faint level. (This includes the quaint European habit of leaning on the vehicle's horn). But owing to some clever sound/noise modification methods of the perps' seem to regularly apply, I get a second floor level noise volume on the sixth floor. (And of this update, 05-03-2007, it is continuing as the imposed "normal").

And worse yet, more than the above noise augmentation, I also get planted noise where there is no cover story of passing vehicles that might be the putative source. This includes the characteristic noises of vehicles (e.g. Harley Davidson type motorcycles, Vespas, buses etc.) that are occuring when there are no such vehicles present, determined by looking outside. Back to the bad old days again. The last location did not afford me any view to look to confirm the particular vehicle's presence.

This is the first apartment where I have moved in and there is no fridge; the fuckers have arranged a temporary "shortage" said to be an appliance manufacturer supply problem and one is due to arrive today. In the past I have noted that the perps seem to have no end of "problems" with refrigerated food (e.g. coincident noisestalking), so this stunt does not surprise me in the least. This forced the toss out of a partially used cooked chicken, and the perps also have a long track record for causing the premature disposable items out, food or material objects.

And now I am waiting for the building manager to arrive as there are leaks at the kitchen and bathroom faucets, a medicine cabinet that is loose and a few other "glitches" that fit the harassment profile. The perps don't seem to be able to get a handle on all the energetic properties of water, especially that used for cleaning dishes and for personal hygeine. Hence these water games. My last three residence locations all had "scheduled" water outages that posed various inconveniences. At the last location they even punctured a flexible shower waterline to have a sample of the same water source spurting out in advance of it travelling four feet to the showerhead. This is just more of the absurd and daunting list of objectives the perps still seem to have "problems" with and for which I get fucked over until they have figured them all out. Their objective of total mind-control is almost complete as personally experienced, and that is only a subset. Their problems of remotely applied energetics assay, especially as it relates to colors and clothing, are made to be mine, even if I have never consented.

The maser and plasma action in this new apartment has continued unabated; I get plenty of the wispy trails and the zingers bouncing around in my vision, and I get the color plasma flashes to transiently augment what is in my current vision.

1350h
Over two fucking hours ago the building manager said he would come by to deal with the (planted) glitches that are "happening". And he has not yet showed. This was the same thing as the pre-move inspection; he left me in this apartment for over half an hour by myself when he said he would be a minute. And if the recent past is a guide, we will meet up in the elevator or lobby and I will be obliged to return with him for an in-suite joint gangstalking. It if fucking senseless to be dealing with this crap all the time. Why cannot a kitchen faucet work first time, all the time?

1725h
Stil no manager, and still no fridge. The assholes have hung me out to dry for another day in partial chaos. As only the manager has the keys for the downstairs lockers, there is no way of getting my unneeded boxes (think brown color) and other items out of here. And no cooking with the fridge out of commission for keeping leftovers. A total pain to have my move held up like this.

The perps also pulled another Fuckover in taking a crap; they blocked the toilet and made it overflow (never happened before as the bowl will only take a tank full) onto the bathroom floor. As they had just finished plastering my ass to take a shit, and they also soiled my underwear, I was in the midst of taking my shoes off when the fuckers were flooding the floor. To avoid getting wet, I hopped over the water and ended up taking one shoe off outside the bathroom, the other was already off when I was inside, Givent the perp's fetish over footwear and shoes, the fuckers had this one planned all the way. The shit games had dropped off in recent weeks, but as this is a new residence, the fuckers decided to go all out. They also fucked my recall as to the location of the latex gloves I wanted to use, and the same for the two white towels that could of been used to clean up the bathroom flood they created.

I cleaned the floor up and then showered and changed. This way, the fuckers had the shit plastered onto my ass for longer, as these tasks took priority. And as my plunger was "somehow" missed in the move yesterday, I somehow think my brother was in on this fuckover stunt. At his place in the room where my belongings were stored, he grabbed the broom and mop, (latter itemm used to clean up the mess), but "somehow" he missed the plunger which I need on a regular basis. The overflow would of been less likely to happen if it were on hand. And also feeding into the FUD Fuckover (Fear, Uncertainty and Doubt), one of the perp's objectives, is that I now must be on guard for the next crap I take to ensure this doesn't happen again. More tiresome sick minded games from the juvies at Fuckover Operations.

2150h
I took 2.5 hours to get my laundry done, and I got the usual freak show of color coordinated characters passing through, going on sentry duty or otherwise gangstalking. I had a full laundry load when I moved in yesterday, and today's fuckover in taking a shit only added more urgency in getting it done. Plus, I suspect it was a crossover of me taking my laundry to the laundromat from the new residence location when I am likely to later use the laundry facilities in the building.

Besides, it was the only sensible contribution I could make to getting things done. The manager never showed up, and I am still another day without a fucking fridge. I almost feel like going somewhere and getting one immediately delivered. I reckon the assholes would have me blocked on that one.

As I approached the laundromat the perps had placed the brother-like gangstalker at my old (putative) rooming house residence at the laudromat, rolling a cigarette from a red colored tobacco pouch. I couldn't believe it; this fucker has been put on me constantly in that shithole (putative rooming house) and here he is there at the laundromat some 10 (walking) minutes away. This is the same asshole who waits for me in the hallway to exit the bathroom in the supposed rooming house and now "happens" to be the first gangstalker at the laundromat after this residence relocation.

I am getting severe typo sabotage as I am typing this, time to cease journalling for the moment.

And more self-flooding on the kitchen counter, this time the water ran underneath the plate with the chicken meat on it. Note that there was no leakage from the faucet as it was not on while I was away doing laundry. Yesterday, it was the storied frypan's turn in the same kitchen counter location that was spontaneously flooded, a half cup of water or so. Needless to say I am extremely pissed at being jerked around and the rest of the excuses that go with it.

2230h
I am getting severe vision impairment as I am typing this; time to call tis a blog posting for the day.

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05-03-2007
I decided to repair and enhance the above posting and add today's events below.

1815h
And still no fridge; the manager says "tomorrow for sure" on the phone when I asked him for locker storage access. And he never arrived and my belongings are still backed up in my apartment. My jaded perspective tells me that the perps want the regular fridge items to be clustered together on the counter. These would be the "restricted diet" items of peanut butter, jam, GF bread and once each day, I get some fresh cooked chicken. As best as I can tell, they are also having me use differing packaging; the plate with Cling Wrap, the wrapping from the grocery store, and with only one garbage can, they also seem to be evaluating the combination of the contents in close proximity, inside the the white plastic bag.

And they have put on a significant number of "plastic bag people"; these are the operatives/gangstalkers with grocery store plastic bags in hand, which is a relatively normal event, except that there are so many of them. At yoga today, the perps put on operatives as long haired male vagrant types circulating outside with two black plastic garbage bags each, doing their "stand around" duty, and not having any cover story relating why they were doing this.

And as the yoga classroom is a half story below grade, and adjacent to the public entrance to a commercial kitchen, there is a reason for people to be exiting with their frozen food purchases in small (white usually) plastic bags, but not bringing large plastic garbage bags to the kitchen.

While at yoga there were many more "reflectance" games where bright reflectance was arranged (IMHO) to come from parked or passing vehicles to shine onto my face, or lesserly, on the walls and ceilings of the yoga classroom (where I was looking, and sometimes twisted in a pose). And it so happened that at one point there was a white vehicle parked outside and the sun happened to be beaming into my face, "reflecting". And the coincidences went on from there; there were various gangstalkers interupting the beam, passing through it to create stroboscopic like effects, and at times, some even stood in front of the beam of reflected sunlight and moved slowly. This was the habit of the above mentioned vagrants and their plastic bag act as it turned out; get the scumiest gangstalker demographic and have them stand in front of the same light beam that was also reaching me, 8' deep from the windows, at 4' below grade, some 20' away.

Upon some analysis I realized that there was no way in this N. aspect location with the sun was not yet at its zenith to be reflecting southward and managing to "find" 2' of vertical window to shine through and on me. And the car window was not angled to facilitate this circumstance IMHO. I have long complained in the past, and in these blog postings, about being stroboscoped by faux reflectance and other putative causes on the streets and inside buildings, today's continued "beaming" does not surprise me.

And the coincidence of the back twists, extensions and other spinal extensive yoga poses with the light and reflectance games also struck me as odd today. This suggests that the perps are upping the game stakes and arranging more light and athletic duress (in a good way) arrangements.

And at six stories up, I also found that I was getting "reflectance" on the ceiling of this apartment, an E. facing location, seemingly from passing vehicles. It just doesn't add up, and especially the shape and pattern of these anomalous light games.

I also noted above that the out-of-town brother like gangstalker "showed up" at the laundromat yesterday evening. And true to past experience, more of my putative neighbors of my last residence location also "showed up" when I was outside today. The building manager and next door neighbor "happened" to be walking oppositely when I was on my way to yoga, and then afterward, the male long blonde hair act "happened" to be arriving at the grocery store as I was in the checkout.

The perps also put on a rare "just standing there" sentry in mid-street with no cover story. This fucker was in a stance of legs apart with arms crossed over his chest and facing me from a block away in the middle of the sidewalk, standing outside of a wire fenced playground, seemingly disinterested in anything but looking cool. Not that he was dressed for it in his baggy black and white shorts and his bandy legs with strange shadow patterns on them, with a dark top on. As I approached within a half block he changed his stance some, to relieve the more aggresive tone to it, and rotated toward facing the street. He was wearing shades so I couldn't see his eyes to determine if he was "all there", though he did look back at me as I was staring at him to determine his mental makeup. A bus stop was only 30' away, and he could of easily put on this act under the cover story of waiting for a bus, but no, this was an out-and-out nut show for me to see. Only now have the perps let me in on the strangeness of his legs from my first sighting, as they should not of been in shadow as they were.

The gangstalkers were all over me after today's yoga, as I made a rare stop at the hardware and lumber store to get some items for the apartment. They fucked me over at the checkout with four debit card "failures" (swiping, password) which allowed the next person plenty of time to have his 2'x2' brown box on edge, facing me as I went through this pre-arranged humiliation. Another case of "brownstalking", this time at the checkout, one of the most fiercest gangstalked and stuntstalked regular activities that I do. There is something the perps want to know at the moment of payment; this is routinely "coughstalked" and today, they even had the aforementioned next person's "partner", (always a suspect arrangement in my orchestrated existence), encircle me at the checkout. It is fucking nuts to be under this much scrutiny, and I will make it a habit to not go there again if I have any say in it, and am allowed to recall today's checkout humiliations. (Not usually the case).

Even getting in the door to this hardware and lumber store was arranged; they had two ambulatory gangstalkers with lengths of wood arranged on their shoulders in conversation, and the exit was between them. As I passed through this gauntlet, they each stopped talking and began moving in opposite directions, as if there was a mutually understood choreography. (Which there is, I maintain).

When I was departing, and still in the shade of this drive-through area, another, a vaguely familiar gangstalker was headed directly for me, only 20' away, and not seeming to be entering the store which is where I had just come from. It was more important that he got close it seemed. If it was who I think it was, based on similar look to his eyes, then this would be the same person that constantly crowded me at swimming, when I swam with the swim club. (This was where at least six perpetual "workless" males were in circulation, and as far as I can tell, was also a significant recruiting ground for more of the assholes).

And further on my way back from the hardware store, there was a redi-mix truck pouring concrete for a small sidewalk job, which for most people is nothing out of the ordinary. As explained in many blog posting, and especially here, proximity to concrete in its many forms of being just poured, new, and all the way to very old pourings, is yet another of the perp fixations that are imposed upon me. There are way too many redi-mix trucks passing me by, and especially toward locations where there isn't much building activity. There has also been a significant amount of public works "traffic calming" installations where concrete islands are created in mid-street. There is another significant street island project planned for this city on one of the main arteries where the transit buses are to also be re-routed down the center of the street.

I also note that the perps have ground down two concrete sidewalk locations between this new residence location and the grocery store. This is where concrete paving slabs heave and create potential tripping dangers of surficial humps and edges, which are removed by some kind of grind down of the concrete to expose an ablated and contiguous face. This has also recently been done on my other beats from my past residence location.

I just wonder if this news item about the Oakland Bay Bridge entrance ramp isn't related to the perp's continuing research into the energetics interaction of concrete with vehicles, persons (starting with me, per above), clothing and the rest of the games that go on with colors. Taking out an access ramp with a quarter million per day vehicle count is no big deal for these assholes, as this could aid in them developing their concrete energetics interaction model they must be furiously working on. This might explain why they assiduously gangstalk me entering and exiting buildings, as usually there are changes in differing concrete types, ages, batches etc.

And the street marches and protests would be another example where there is a substantial alteration of street (asphalt or concrete) energetics interaction; no intervening vehicles, but large masses of person to street interaction. Just musing...

I am getting more vision impairment fuckery now; whitish plumes and flares are appearing, often in concert with specific words that are perps' frequently noisestalk, or when I make changes to past blog postings. So I am taking this excuse to call this a posting to cover two days, as there has been substantial modifications to yesterday's blog.