0850h
A "tapping attack" as I call them; someone tapping on something that "needs" percussive force, but as mentioned before, I have yet to find a source for this noise, and there are only so many legit tapping activities in this predominantly built up residential area. Then there are variants of tapping as well; a sonorous echo variant as if a large hollow wood beam was being driven into place for five or more minutes, then the metallic ringing variant, as if it were steel rods being driven in, and metal bashing variants, as if there were connected sheet metal pieces being whacked, like automobile components. Then there are variants of the percussive frequency, two per second or so to one per two or three seconds, stretching the ludicrous as to it being of gainful human endeavor.
I suspect the perps are putting on a noise flurry today for reasons that may later unfold, like heading out to the First Feral Family locations to do gardening work. Yesterday it was the in-town brother's place and this 3' wall that flopped over in the winter, and I dug out behind it. I shouldn't of been too surprised to get a later soil clodded Fuckwit gangstalker sitting immediately in front of me on the bus when outbound to the college for evening classes. Like WTF, who goes out to a college like they just finished a shift on the farm? Only around me it seems, and never mind the coincidence of him being dressed in olive green, the same color as the first time wearing of my shirt. And since when do farm workers cut their pants short to reveal 5" of leg above their tall mid-calf socks? Only in the city where proximate Fuckwits are dressed for rain in a shirt (last night as well), and are wearing shorts in winter (last night and most every day). The hikey bikey dress code is getting stupid.
Then there are the props, reaching dumbshit proportions last night; three guitar acts made of two independent parties for my two block walk from the bus stop to the supermarket at 2220h last night, inbound from my classes. I don't know if that tops the absurdity level of the surfboard inside said store a few nights ago, along with the hippie blonde babe in fugly tight curly locks, (Favored blonde, Unfavored tight curly hair), the ostensible owner. Yes, it is surfing season here, but that is some 60 miles away, not in these sheltered waters. And camping season has also sprung early; at least two campers, trailers, pickup box campers or motorhomes, each time I am out, not fitting the surfing crowd's income level either. The gentrified campers have arrived for whatever reason all to tow their show around downtown.
And orange colored/dressed gangstalking has increased since my mother gave me my monthly subsidy in the form of an orange colored $50 bill two days ago, Monday. That would explain the fucking weirds pacing and standing around me in the bank before I recieved the cash. And maybe that is why an orange-red Uhaul vehicle is stationed outside, doing squat, and no moving cover story to go with it.
Another street show last night, the fire alarm of the opposite residential tower went off while I was coming back from the local supermarket. That spawned flashing red ights in view from my desk, seen through the curtains, while eating Malteasers from a red bag. This Malteasers "addiction" has erupted with avengence in the last two months, and I am strangely compelled to eat them usually while the kettle is on the stove, warming up to boil water for tea. It used to be that I would eat the entire package while waiting for the kettle to boil and the tea to steep, shortly after purchase. But now it has moderated so I only eat half the package, and save the latter half for another teatime, suggesting that the perps have made certain red (packaging)/brown (chocolate coating on Malteaser)/yellow (inside Malteaser with crunchy eating noise), and put the latter half away in the cupboard, presumably as there are other energetic interactions the sickos want to test, e.g. shelf to package, shelf to Malteaser, in the package, and Malteaser in me. And so goes this absurdly complex energetic functional decomposition research that I am kept in, and mind slave to/for.
1435h
Back in the saddle after being called away to do more work for my in-town brother. This time it is rocks he wants, to rebuild his rock wall that flopped over. Off to the quarry, select and load rocks, and then back to his place with the almighty vehicular gangstalking arranged us. The deal was that he would pick me up, and I get ready, only to wait an extra 20 minutes. It so happens he is parked at the local supermarket parking lot, and I am to meet him there. Since we are off to the quarry directly, I bring my new yellow leather with black fabric insert panel gloves, the ones purchased some six months ago in 09-2009. . And lo, if he didn't bring similar yellow gloves that I keep at his place, in a plastic bag with his yellow trimmed gloves. And who's gloves does he wear when handling the rocks? Why mine of course, the ones that have been kept at his place for over a year, of yellow leather (faux deerskin), and have sprung two different sized holes on the end of the left glove fingers. The perps like to test my fingers directly against the material, whatever it may be, and it is why I haven't had a pair of work gloves last more than a few days before they spring finger tip holes, sometimes while on coffee break.
After his white trades van with appropriate rocks and both of us in the van getting ready to go, two Asian male gangstalkers come to loiter around just where we had been extracting the rocks from, posing through the windshield glass, and then through the open window, the chinless one getting a supporting role by coming in later and posing to be seen in profile at first. You know how it goes; (not so) Secret Asian Man... to the tune of the UK series, Secret Agent Man.
And then my brother has to change his clothes in the van when all the rocks were loaded in it, as he has to go to a house for garage sale purposes on his way back to his place, with me as the swamper to unload them all. Any excuse will do, all these gangstalker clothing changes, never mind the ones that they put me through, including getting ready for this rock work.
And as we pull out of the quarry area, why a yellow DHL truck parked in the driveway of the first house we pass by, and lo, if there wasn't a surfeit of yellow school buses, yellow trucks and other yellow vehicles. One change of direction, and it it back to red colored vehicles, three or four clustered together of identical deep metallic red, sometimes beside a parked one of the same color. Then another try with the yellow colored vehicles in a few more minutes once the red gangstalking vehicle "need" has been met. And all my regular readers will know how much I loathe red and yellow colors together, so it wasn't too much of a surprise to see just that, a yellow vehicle next to a red one, crossing paths momentarily.
And after arriving at my in-town brother's place, he went into a minor panic mode over imagined pressures, and had me unload all the rocks while he putzed in the house. These strange departures from active involvement, or more like sudden abandonment of the activity at hand are getting stranger all the time. Later, after I finished hauling all the rocks out, he comes around just when I was finishing up, and handling the hose to wash the them, the near identical timing yesterday, except without intervening to suddenly need the hose for his vehicle this time.
And in a further abandonment of this rock wall project, he wanted me to do the concrete pouring for the foundation rocks on Friday, making out that he was going to be super busy then with his garage sale scouting. Whatever, he pays me for these projects, and I can do with the cash as the recent daffodil flower (read, yellow) picking job ended prematurely by 30 days last week.
And what is it that attracts the perps to rocks, breaking it, reorienting it and the rest of it, including sending in TI's and their shills/quislings to a rock quarry and lug rocks around? It is called petrovoltaics, the intrinsic energy related to rocks, the most prevalent material on earth. (Another link here, and here and do a google search for more). This subject goes back to at least 1922 when Thomas Townsend Brown was studying the electromagnetic control of gravity.
1935h
Laundry is done, the smearing of soil on my pants and shirt when I had expressly made an effort that it wasn't going to happen. No rocks or soil covered objects touched my front or pants, and yet "somehow" I got filthed up. Which suggests the perps don't give a shit about causal events; if they want me to do laundry they apply their own dirt to my clothes. And that came with getting skunked on the washing machine, it being used by someone else. I meant to go back in an hour, and "forgot", leaving the laundry hamper in a new location for the interim. There are many more of these wait and sequence disruption games going on of late, and that was just another.
2305h
I did my month end accounting tonight, and not a single provocation to screw me around until the very end when I wanted to back up the files. In other words, at least 50 transactions where they didn't screw me over, though there were plenty enough forced typos and the display firing off to another screen. This is truly remarkable they finally left me alone to do this activity without turning it into an abusive fuckover scene.
Enough excitement for a day, time to blog off.
Showing posts with label glove finger holes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label glove finger holes. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 03, 2010
Saturday, December 06, 2008
Crossing My T's For Me
1710h
I just finished writing in my handwritten journal, and yet another invasive event occured for the first time; they created a small slash of ink exactly where I was to cross the letter "t", effectively a pre-emptive partial letter stroke. Not only can they fuck someone out of crossing "t"s after the fact, but also place them in advance of exactly where it is to take place. They were about one letter ahead of me when this little horizontal slash of same blue color ink "arrived" in position to be joined to the upright part that I was to make and join them up.
I did the same thing as yesterday; taking the bus to my parents' place and effectively babysitting my father and his dementia act, with the odd interaction, usually him babbling on about something. He lays it on pretty thick, so I reckon it is a big act, all for the perp gain around their interest in words, sounds, sylables and the like, both in receptive and spoken form. Like I said in yesterday's blog posting, his persona has become utterly pathetic, acting as if he has Alzheimer's or if it is for real. I haven't quite figured it out, and maybe today's timely smirking by him suggests it is an act, though he could me mind controlled, and now their capabilities are so finely tunable, one wouldn't even remember if they were temporarily controlled or not.
He has this agitated act/symptom where he pointlessly wanders about, usually in orthogonal directions, often re-tracking his path, and withthe unerring ability to be in place where I want to walk to, forcing me to walk by, or to be just ahead or behind me in crossing my path. Call it sticky gangstalking, as I never get it this bad when outside, not even from the Fuckwits on the daffodil bulb picking crew this past summer.
Another one of his traits is to play peekaboo; standing behind a wall portion and then partially reveal himself in increments, often with his back toward me. My resolution on this stupid shit is either to see all of him or none of him, which often forces me to move forward or back in my seat. I am sure all the moving about serves the perps purposes no matter who is doing it, hence the bizarre public gangstalkers who start running in mid-street in suits, heels etc. it doesn't matter, even if a bus stop is nowhere nearby.
My reaction of the past two days when he gets into peekaboo mode is to take my reading material with me and head to my former bedroom and read a book. Even there was no respite, because as soon as a forced pee came on, he was in place, gangstalking me upon exit of the room. And when I came back he was still there, on sentry duty for me to walk past again. No doubt he stood over top of where I had been lying on the bed while I was in the bathroom. Then he attempts to make conversation as an excuse to stand around longer after I go and lie on the bed again to resume reading. Fucking pathetic this First Feral Family gangstalking, he being the epitome of it. And I get to do this again tomorrow for three days in succession with a stayover. It would seem that the past two days of visitations have been a warm-up for a regular Sunday visitation.
And so when I set off to the parents' place via the city bus, I had a posse of five gangstalkers around me at the bus stop. One was a "follower" from two blocks away who somehow held up her journey by five minutes or so as she was on my tail and would of arrived immediately after me. Then she puts on this smirk as she passes by to do the all-time routine gangstalker move, stand at the bus stop pole and pretend to study the schedule. And additionally, a bus stopped, and out steps a woman I had visited only five days earlier, and puts on the chat by first mentioning what a coincidence it was, and adding "bizarre", a word I use plenty. And she was explaining things with her finger in the air, and lo, if the said finger didn't have a 3" plastic cast on it. When I dropped off the firewood for the colleague who has MS on Monday, she was there and hanging around me doing what seemed to be gangstalk duty. The firewood delivery was a big deal with all the municipal vehicles that suddenly arrived after I parked the vehicle, one being the suck-truck for leaf pickup duty.
2010h
I am back from my cleaning job, a one hour per six days a week activity, with plenty of mindfucks to then have the boss man chastise me on something. Tonight it was the light switches again; the assholes fucked me into "forgetting" to turn off one bank of lights next to another one that I did remember. This kind of recall dropout shit never happened before, and is one more example as to how I get fucked with and the level of detail the sickos apply.
And more extra conventional fuckery too; I had just finished cleaning the lid of the toilet when some blackish fluffy substance erupted 2' over it and descended onto the lid. All to spoil my cleaning job as well as another black/white color marker they so like to have.
And in another stunt, they created this goo in a garbage can that magically latched onto my latex gloves, and made sure the only way to extricate my hands was to leave the gloves behind. So a new pair was put on in mid-job. Then when doing the later floor mopping, a latex glove finger erupted where the mop was, which incurred picking it up and putting it into the garbage that had been earlier cleaned out. But of course they wouldn't let me in on where that piece of latex came from, and it was only 20 minutes later that they had me look at my hand and find the middle left finger of the latex glove missing. So, in other words, they instantly ripped the glove off the finger, nullified any sensation there, and had me with a bare finger for the latter 10 minutes on the job. This would seem to be a continuation of past glove finger ripping and hole-ing, their method to incrementally expose me to whatever substances and materials are present, and see if they can model the energetic interaction by remotely applied methods. I predict that there will be much more finger ripping "happening", and that it will be in larger shapes, different fingers and multiple fingers. Just a continuation of this past summer's glove finger ripping where it would "happen" while I was on a break, the gloves placed aside.
On a similar note, when I was swimming with a team, the silicone caps were said to last a whole season. But in my case, they would last only about four to six swims and magically rip apart. Yet another example of being a "hard luck case" by way of intrusionistic imposition in serving some Fuckwits' research agenda on the interaction of silicone with one's head. They still haven't got that one figured out, as they had me purchase a silicone half mask "for work" (that never materialized), and it is still sitting in my closet. No doubt more silicone interaction testing will be scripted in 2009. But it does make me wonder if the SS (Surrepticious Sickos) weren't behind all the leaking silicone breast implants and the trail of health, emotional and financial wreckage it caused.
My take on the perp's influence and capabilities is that they oversee industries and the pollutant problems that are created to serve some kind of covert research agenda. And after some decades and they are still stymied, they then create situations that are worse and don't give a shit as to how much grief they cause. The asbestos pollutant problems were said to be known in the 1920's and the industries blew it off and kept polluting until the 1980's when there was overwhelming evidence of the lung cancer problem it was creating. By way of examples in the course of this continuing harassment, I have come to conclude that there is very little going on in this world that is happenchance, and especially when it comes to public health.
2310h
I was reading film review blogs, something I did daily, but of late have left it to a weekly surf. And changing up the frequency of routines, more often or less often is one exciting event for the perps. All manner of snap, crackle, pop noise simulating creaky shoulder joints that didn't move, overhead pounding as a new web page displayed, and other noise and vibrational intrusions while troving familar ground. And too, the perps are excited about forcing me to wear earmuffs to block out annoying sounds, and then crank up the noise such that the earmuffs "become" ineffectual, and as a consequence, I plug my ears with my fingers. This latter solution must be something highly desired; just about always a noise starts up within five seconds of taking the earmuffs off, and plugging my ears. It would seem some kind of plastics interaction energetics is sought, and having me wear hearing protection for an hour with faint popping sounds, elevated background hiss and others that "happen" is just the ticket for the SS.
Enough of today, and time to anticipate what degree of sleeplessness will be imposed.
I just finished writing in my handwritten journal, and yet another invasive event occured for the first time; they created a small slash of ink exactly where I was to cross the letter "t", effectively a pre-emptive partial letter stroke. Not only can they fuck someone out of crossing "t"s after the fact, but also place them in advance of exactly where it is to take place. They were about one letter ahead of me when this little horizontal slash of same blue color ink "arrived" in position to be joined to the upright part that I was to make and join them up.
I did the same thing as yesterday; taking the bus to my parents' place and effectively babysitting my father and his dementia act, with the odd interaction, usually him babbling on about something. He lays it on pretty thick, so I reckon it is a big act, all for the perp gain around their interest in words, sounds, sylables and the like, both in receptive and spoken form. Like I said in yesterday's blog posting, his persona has become utterly pathetic, acting as if he has Alzheimer's or if it is for real. I haven't quite figured it out, and maybe today's timely smirking by him suggests it is an act, though he could me mind controlled, and now their capabilities are so finely tunable, one wouldn't even remember if they were temporarily controlled or not.
He has this agitated act/symptom where he pointlessly wanders about, usually in orthogonal directions, often re-tracking his path, and withthe unerring ability to be in place where I want to walk to, forcing me to walk by, or to be just ahead or behind me in crossing my path. Call it sticky gangstalking, as I never get it this bad when outside, not even from the Fuckwits on the daffodil bulb picking crew this past summer.
Another one of his traits is to play peekaboo; standing behind a wall portion and then partially reveal himself in increments, often with his back toward me. My resolution on this stupid shit is either to see all of him or none of him, which often forces me to move forward or back in my seat. I am sure all the moving about serves the perps purposes no matter who is doing it, hence the bizarre public gangstalkers who start running in mid-street in suits, heels etc. it doesn't matter, even if a bus stop is nowhere nearby.
My reaction of the past two days when he gets into peekaboo mode is to take my reading material with me and head to my former bedroom and read a book. Even there was no respite, because as soon as a forced pee came on, he was in place, gangstalking me upon exit of the room. And when I came back he was still there, on sentry duty for me to walk past again. No doubt he stood over top of where I had been lying on the bed while I was in the bathroom. Then he attempts to make conversation as an excuse to stand around longer after I go and lie on the bed again to resume reading. Fucking pathetic this First Feral Family gangstalking, he being the epitome of it. And I get to do this again tomorrow for three days in succession with a stayover. It would seem that the past two days of visitations have been a warm-up for a regular Sunday visitation.
And so when I set off to the parents' place via the city bus, I had a posse of five gangstalkers around me at the bus stop. One was a "follower" from two blocks away who somehow held up her journey by five minutes or so as she was on my tail and would of arrived immediately after me. Then she puts on this smirk as she passes by to do the all-time routine gangstalker move, stand at the bus stop pole and pretend to study the schedule. And additionally, a bus stopped, and out steps a woman I had visited only five days earlier, and puts on the chat by first mentioning what a coincidence it was, and adding "bizarre", a word I use plenty. And she was explaining things with her finger in the air, and lo, if the said finger didn't have a 3" plastic cast on it. When I dropped off the firewood for the colleague who has MS on Monday, she was there and hanging around me doing what seemed to be gangstalk duty. The firewood delivery was a big deal with all the municipal vehicles that suddenly arrived after I parked the vehicle, one being the suck-truck for leaf pickup duty.
2010h
I am back from my cleaning job, a one hour per six days a week activity, with plenty of mindfucks to then have the boss man chastise me on something. Tonight it was the light switches again; the assholes fucked me into "forgetting" to turn off one bank of lights next to another one that I did remember. This kind of recall dropout shit never happened before, and is one more example as to how I get fucked with and the level of detail the sickos apply.
And more extra conventional fuckery too; I had just finished cleaning the lid of the toilet when some blackish fluffy substance erupted 2' over it and descended onto the lid. All to spoil my cleaning job as well as another black/white color marker they so like to have.
And in another stunt, they created this goo in a garbage can that magically latched onto my latex gloves, and made sure the only way to extricate my hands was to leave the gloves behind. So a new pair was put on in mid-job. Then when doing the later floor mopping, a latex glove finger erupted where the mop was, which incurred picking it up and putting it into the garbage that had been earlier cleaned out. But of course they wouldn't let me in on where that piece of latex came from, and it was only 20 minutes later that they had me look at my hand and find the middle left finger of the latex glove missing. So, in other words, they instantly ripped the glove off the finger, nullified any sensation there, and had me with a bare finger for the latter 10 minutes on the job. This would seem to be a continuation of past glove finger ripping and hole-ing, their method to incrementally expose me to whatever substances and materials are present, and see if they can model the energetic interaction by remotely applied methods. I predict that there will be much more finger ripping "happening", and that it will be in larger shapes, different fingers and multiple fingers. Just a continuation of this past summer's glove finger ripping where it would "happen" while I was on a break, the gloves placed aside.
On a similar note, when I was swimming with a team, the silicone caps were said to last a whole season. But in my case, they would last only about four to six swims and magically rip apart. Yet another example of being a "hard luck case" by way of intrusionistic imposition in serving some Fuckwits' research agenda on the interaction of silicone with one's head. They still haven't got that one figured out, as they had me purchase a silicone half mask "for work" (that never materialized), and it is still sitting in my closet. No doubt more silicone interaction testing will be scripted in 2009. But it does make me wonder if the SS (Surrepticious Sickos) weren't behind all the leaking silicone breast implants and the trail of health, emotional and financial wreckage it caused.
My take on the perp's influence and capabilities is that they oversee industries and the pollutant problems that are created to serve some kind of covert research agenda. And after some decades and they are still stymied, they then create situations that are worse and don't give a shit as to how much grief they cause. The asbestos pollutant problems were said to be known in the 1920's and the industries blew it off and kept polluting until the 1980's when there was overwhelming evidence of the lung cancer problem it was creating. By way of examples in the course of this continuing harassment, I have come to conclude that there is very little going on in this world that is happenchance, and especially when it comes to public health.
2310h
I was reading film review blogs, something I did daily, but of late have left it to a weekly surf. And changing up the frequency of routines, more often or less often is one exciting event for the perps. All manner of snap, crackle, pop noise simulating creaky shoulder joints that didn't move, overhead pounding as a new web page displayed, and other noise and vibrational intrusions while troving familar ground. And too, the perps are excited about forcing me to wear earmuffs to block out annoying sounds, and then crank up the noise such that the earmuffs "become" ineffectual, and as a consequence, I plug my ears with my fingers. This latter solution must be something highly desired; just about always a noise starts up within five seconds of taking the earmuffs off, and plugging my ears. It would seem some kind of plastics interaction energetics is sought, and having me wear hearing protection for an hour with faint popping sounds, elevated background hiss and others that "happen" is just the ticket for the SS.
Enough of today, and time to anticipate what degree of sleeplessness will be imposed.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Surrogate Churchbell Clanging Upstairs
1050h
In the ever never ending spiral of stupider and stupider (aka, progressively more improbable), the faux upstairs neighbor has taken to banging a metallic drum of some kind, say a 5 gal. steel pail. It isn't a instrument quality of sound, but the erstaz clanging the perps like to engage in. And in doing, are continuing their program of creating clanging and ringing sounds in my proximity, much as if there were some kind of vibrational energies they are wishing to create, and then have them interfere with other like energies in my proximity. Just another day in Fuckville, the collective assortment of remotely applied harassment, torture, abuse that passes for just another event, now six years of this deranged imposition.
1205h
And a rage-ified morning, all prompted by mysterious hangs in the attaching of a document to an email. The Open Office Writer doc file won't attach for "some reason", and the requestor already has an rtf file that he could save as a doc file with MS Word. Then the alternative, creating a new rtf file "somehow" blows up over bulleting, all to repeat the earlier corrective actions in creating the doc file in the first place. And while getting sabotaged in attempting repairs, the perps made sure I was rage-ified as my "reaction" to yet more imposed impasses of doing what should be simple things. And I suspect its not the softward conversion, but the one and only agency that exploits any differentials and conversion processes to then seed more vexation.
This follows on from a seriously ugly night of imposed dreams for which my normal bail-out neural circuitry won't now work. I suggest that this too has been remotely jerked with, all to keep me "experiencing" extended dream fuckery for longer, something they couldn't do until this year. The morning was rounded out with excessive traffic noise, as if there was both a freeway outside and local traffic with plenty of stop/start brake squealings. And the strange logger's whistle noise was also arranged while in a light sleep, and the practice involved progressively fainter sounds. Regular readers will recall that I have remarked on this particular noise in the past, and that it has no apparent source, as it is very unlike any vehicle, train or ship's whistle, and is uniquely tuned to use in forestry settings. And more oddly, they put the logging whistle noise on last night while keeping me in 1.5 hours of sleeplessness, that being only one of many noises that were directed at me as they kept me flipping my head from side to side. They also created more colored spots and shapes while my eyes were closed, and seem to be working on integrating red colors into a black background. So it would seem that it was a continuation of yesterday's goings on, where after having breakfast at my parent's, and then driving my mother to a specific store, I then was dropped off at my in-town brother's place to continue leaf raking, as it seems he hasn't the patience to do it. Don't ask what he did in past years he has lived at this same location, as I don't know either.
My leaf raking was fraught with the usual extra-conventional gravitic fuckery; leaves "somehow" slipped through the tines of the rake, some leaves "arrived" from nowhere after the leaves had been raked clean, other leaves strangely hopped or lept 2' or so "from" being raked, and many other extra-conventional kinetics. Not too vexing in total thankfully. I had the the expectable surfeir of aircraft noise while outside; I cannot understand why the commercial helicopter service is now flying over the nearby naval base; not one of those "high security" situations it seems. That, and the loud mufflered vehicles arrived in the neighborhood, not to mention loud Harley Davidson two cycle motorcycle noise. Funny how it travels with me.
While there, my brother left for work, and while working away on the lower portion of the property his sort-of native Indian girlfriend arrived unannouced, as I only saw her as she departed in her (brown colored) vehicle. In other words, she arrived from her day job, slipped into the house and would of seen my footwear, pack and coat there, and then took off again, all for me to catch a departing glimpse. Then after finishing the garden work I find she had locked the door up, something unexpected, as she had to have known I was there. But as it "happened", my brother told me about his new secret key hiding location for the first time yesterday, and I was able to get into the house, and then lock it up afterward.
When in the house, and cleaning my brother out of the last of his chocolate which he had previously offered, I was about to use the toilet to take a piss, but lo, there was some already in the toilet, with a drop on the seat to let me know that it was likely a recent event. Meaning, that his girlfriend might have driven from her work to take a piss in his toilet, leave it there unflushed, all for me to dispose of it, and pee into the same toilet. I don't normally get into the elimination interests of the perps, but this sudden lapse in hygeinic behavior of all immediate family has not gone unnoticed over the past 4 months or so. I will spare the details, but that, in conjunction with the tactical pee-ing and shitting that is going on in my apartment at key perp interest moments such as immediately following sending an email, applying for a job online, selecting, cutting and pasting in Windows, and other like minuitae that they routinely and relentlessly noisestalk along with applying other phenomenon, suggests the perps cannot get enough of bodily eliminations to study. So, all the current urine recycling problems on the space station that is in the news, could it be the reach of the perps in fucking astronauts in a much different environment for the same reasons of remotely applied covert human bioenergetics research of bodily eliminations? One must not conflate the present imposed hell to all things of similar nature, but who tknows, except to note that it is all getting curiouser and curiouser and fits the consistent model of Earth-bound bioenergetics study being separated from those of us Earthlings.
1630h
I got a credit on my credit card, simple enough, but for my financial record keeping the Fuckwits dithered me for over 10 minutes, not letting me register the transaction correctly, and ultimately adding an "Adjustment" transaction to deal with the fuckery. Then, another look, and a new cognitive perspective was allowed, and finally I was permitted to register the transaction as a transfer. Ten minutes of farting around all to deal with a problem they created in the fiirst place, presumably to rile me up over financial transactions. And it would seem to be a set-up as my mother showed me one of her statements with "CR" and "wanted to know" if she had to pay anything on it. Always the variable ditz, and seeming engaging me with Fuckwit agenda elicitations that have research/harassment corollaries not long afterward.
Other yesterday First Feral Family action while leaf raking at my brother's place was the identical jerkaround with the hole in the glove fuckery again. One of the red fleece lined leather gloves "erupted" with a hole in one left hand finger, and so was in direct contact with soil, leaves and anything else related to raking leaves, and including the rake tines on the odd occasion. Regular readers will recall that I was picking daffodil bulbs for two months in the summer, and this involved wearing gloves and scraping the soil to find them and place them in a box for removal to the warehouse. I forget if I mentioned how many times my gloves "erupted" with left hand finger holes, sometimes over a break period when not being used. Good quality and relatively unused leather gloves would get holes in the fingers within a few days, and the disposable cotton ones would do the same. Other games related to hand contact were having me use sodden cotton gloves to pick weeds from the wet cabbage plantations and also one day in the pouring rain. And by way of perp planted notion it seems, they are purposely holing my gloves to allow just one fingertip to be exposed to soil, plant material or other at very selective intervals and situations. They also tell me that the skin can absorb various nanoparticles and that they cannot model its energetic effects in the human body, once taken in. This coming from a pack of liars, but in this case it could be true owing to this ongoing one finger glove holing that should not be happening in the case of the leather gloves.
And so, it would seem that much of this ongoing nanoparticle fuckery is so that I don't take in compounds through my hands. They routinely have me use gloves to clean the bathroom, and that might also be for the same reasons; limiting compound intake through fingers. That they had me replace my keyboard about 10 months ago might be related to this, as the old keyboard worked fine, but still the perps demanded a $75 Fuckover from a victim on a disability income when they could of supplied one themselves, the assholes.
So it wasn't too much of a surprise that when walking back to the bus stop I had two red dressed kid gangstalkers paralleling me down the street, one doing the all too common skateboard act, weaving down the hill. Then later, another kid paralleling me when walking on the latter portion of my walk to the bus stop. And lo, if there wasn't a negro dude installed at the bus stop in advance of me arriving, the exact same circumstances when I was dropped off at the same bus stop by my brother about a week and a half ago after raking leaves at his place, though a differing negro dude. Another three shiftless males incrementally arrived and closed in on me, and lo, if only a minute before the bus arrives, another negro dude arrives, seeming not to know the other one at first, but did moments later so they could stand side by side like sentries, letting me on ahead of them. Another two negros were on driveby duty. There aren't that many in town, and it is mighty curious as to why they keep "showing up" in my presence, and even are portrayed on delivery vans in this town for some reason. The only speculative reasons for this particular Unfavored group to be represented is given at the link. Suffice to say, it seems like yet another elicitation of subconscious responses to long past traumatizations to Unfavored demographic group members during the lost years of 1956 to 1959 (no recall of anything for 2.5 years at least). There must be something important about me that "needs" to be sampled/exposed to the Unfavored, and by having me on the city bus freakshow after raking leaves for three hours, they get more freak exposure.
Two weeks ago when staying at my parent's place, my mother was going on about nuns for some reason, and mentioned that they don't dress up in those funny costumes, aka, a habit. I forget how this topic got started, perhaps it was prompted by a newspaper article that morning. Again, I have no recollections as to having even seen nuns at anytime in the aforementioned "lost years" and I did seriously wonder if this is another Unfavored group that I am unaware of. Though I do know that the Catholic Church had a significant hand in the Duplessis Orphan abuse in Quebec during the 1950's and 1960's, though any connection that I have is tenuous. And as it "so happens", there is at least one Duplessis Orphan who is getting gangstalked and like harassment, who connects that stated sponsored child abuse with the current remotely applied harassment and gangstalking that I recieve. I did live in Montreal, Quebec in 1956-57, aged 2 to 3 at the time, but my Montreal recollections are sketchy, and later recollections are totally nonexistent until 1959.
2040h
Another exercise in hanging this PC; the perps need to do this every few days and have a window partially removed, often only with remaining witespace and hang the processor so I have this white-out image until I interupt the process and kill it. Then the browser is relaunched again, all to get back to where I was. This is a dual core processor and "somehow" it lacks the power to sort an existing directory that was already sorted alphabetically until the new Firefox upgrade fucked it up and made it worse.
2225h
Another three job applications were fired off in the last hour, along with tuning my resume for each one. And to no surprise, there was plenty of noisestalking of Windows select, copy and paste, as well as sending the email, addressing it, writing it, saving resume versions and all other associated minutae. I am begining to sense that many of the job advertisements seem to be arranged by local businesses, or desired situations like a two day per week job so I could continue with my disability until this time next year after taking courses to upgrade my software development skills. In other words, a certain theme is planted into mind, and then the jobs seem to match it, but of course not even an interview materializes. The perps aren't doing me any favors by sandbagging my typing, fucking with my motor control on the keyboard and the rest of the aggravations that build up to rage-ification level abusive fuckery.
Before the above job looking was tea and chocolate time, and that too was roundly noisestalked with the high speed freeway traffic noise, as well as their ongoing rage-ification games over faked noises and touches as well as their most persistent and deranged stunt yet, the re-wetting of a specific knife I use, called a Spyderco Delica. It often gets put in the knife block about 10 minutes ahead of using it to cut into the chocolate bar foil. It gets thoroughly dried, shaken, and then re-dried with a tea towel to then be placed in the knife block. About 10 minutes later after the kettle has boiled and the tea has steeped (also a perp obsession), I need to use the Spyderco knife for opening up the chocolate bar wrapping foil. And lo, if the assholes haven't slathered water beads on it to then force it to be re-dried again immediately before its intended use. In other words, drying the knife and placing it in the knife block for use ten minutes later isn't good enough; they have to go and fuck it by mysteriously applying water to the knife in the block to then piss me off as I had just dried the knife beforehand. This bizarre jerkaround has been playing nearly once per day for about two weeks, and before this insane bullshit started up, the knife was most often dried, placed in the block and it stayed dry thereafter. Not now, this expectable sequence has to be fucked with by the Surrepticious Sickos, aka, the SS.
That is segue into a new piece of related fuckery that erupted today, and being allowed for the first time in six years, to dry the cutlery with a tea towel. Normally, the little cutlery I use (another topic) air dries in the dish rack and I put them into the drawer. But all of a sudden, today, the fuckers ensure the cutlery stays wet, and have me dry it with the tea towel. Not a big deal for me, but for the SS, they went crazy with overhead pounding noise, extra street traffic noise, extra augmented noise of the cutlery "clanging" (actually, there was no contact, but just more noise augmentation as if it happened), overhead pissing noise, faux neighbor water use noise and a few others. The SS went beserk with noisetalking all over me hand drying cutlery for the first time in six years. The same tea towel as always.
But mind you, they are consistent, even if beserk. In 2006 the SS broke my Copco frypan with a copper layer under the stainless steel base by popping the spot welds one by one while the frypan was in my hand, under no stress whatsoever. A very blantant piece of sabotage to say the least. So..., and I am sure that I have blogged about it at the time, I bought a new frypan with an all aluminum base and thinner sides of chromed steel at a cost of $105, something I could of done without. And ever since, the perps have been going nuts on impairing my motor coordination while grasping and, yes, drying it with the tea towel. They even have the tea towel flipping around in extra-conventional kinetic mode unless I take it very slowly to remove the excuses they take to flick it about while in use. As deranged as the perps obsessions are, they are very consistent in applying their tea towel dried implements obsession in a progressive way, moving from frypans (after starting anew), to a specific knife, and now to cutlery. And as part of this, they have always had me use the minimum of cutlery when eating, as my usual fare is finger food for lunch and dinner, the tortillas dish they have me eat all the time.
I hope that is enough bizarreness for some decent reading, and further confirmation that no one could possibly make this up. And call this one done for the day, with the big excitement being the laundry, yet another perp obsession that this time, I will refrain from describing.
In the ever never ending spiral of stupider and stupider (aka, progressively more improbable), the faux upstairs neighbor has taken to banging a metallic drum of some kind, say a 5 gal. steel pail. It isn't a instrument quality of sound, but the erstaz clanging the perps like to engage in. And in doing, are continuing their program of creating clanging and ringing sounds in my proximity, much as if there were some kind of vibrational energies they are wishing to create, and then have them interfere with other like energies in my proximity. Just another day in Fuckville, the collective assortment of remotely applied harassment, torture, abuse that passes for just another event, now six years of this deranged imposition.
1205h
And a rage-ified morning, all prompted by mysterious hangs in the attaching of a document to an email. The Open Office Writer doc file won't attach for "some reason", and the requestor already has an rtf file that he could save as a doc file with MS Word. Then the alternative, creating a new rtf file "somehow" blows up over bulleting, all to repeat the earlier corrective actions in creating the doc file in the first place. And while getting sabotaged in attempting repairs, the perps made sure I was rage-ified as my "reaction" to yet more imposed impasses of doing what should be simple things. And I suspect its not the softward conversion, but the one and only agency that exploits any differentials and conversion processes to then seed more vexation.
This follows on from a seriously ugly night of imposed dreams for which my normal bail-out neural circuitry won't now work. I suggest that this too has been remotely jerked with, all to keep me "experiencing" extended dream fuckery for longer, something they couldn't do until this year. The morning was rounded out with excessive traffic noise, as if there was both a freeway outside and local traffic with plenty of stop/start brake squealings. And the strange logger's whistle noise was also arranged while in a light sleep, and the practice involved progressively fainter sounds. Regular readers will recall that I have remarked on this particular noise in the past, and that it has no apparent source, as it is very unlike any vehicle, train or ship's whistle, and is uniquely tuned to use in forestry settings. And more oddly, they put the logging whistle noise on last night while keeping me in 1.5 hours of sleeplessness, that being only one of many noises that were directed at me as they kept me flipping my head from side to side. They also created more colored spots and shapes while my eyes were closed, and seem to be working on integrating red colors into a black background. So it would seem that it was a continuation of yesterday's goings on, where after having breakfast at my parent's, and then driving my mother to a specific store, I then was dropped off at my in-town brother's place to continue leaf raking, as it seems he hasn't the patience to do it. Don't ask what he did in past years he has lived at this same location, as I don't know either.
My leaf raking was fraught with the usual extra-conventional gravitic fuckery; leaves "somehow" slipped through the tines of the rake, some leaves "arrived" from nowhere after the leaves had been raked clean, other leaves strangely hopped or lept 2' or so "from" being raked, and many other extra-conventional kinetics. Not too vexing in total thankfully. I had the the expectable surfeir of aircraft noise while outside; I cannot understand why the commercial helicopter service is now flying over the nearby naval base; not one of those "high security" situations it seems. That, and the loud mufflered vehicles arrived in the neighborhood, not to mention loud Harley Davidson two cycle motorcycle noise. Funny how it travels with me.
While there, my brother left for work, and while working away on the lower portion of the property his sort-of native Indian girlfriend arrived unannouced, as I only saw her as she departed in her (brown colored) vehicle. In other words, she arrived from her day job, slipped into the house and would of seen my footwear, pack and coat there, and then took off again, all for me to catch a departing glimpse. Then after finishing the garden work I find she had locked the door up, something unexpected, as she had to have known I was there. But as it "happened", my brother told me about his new secret key hiding location for the first time yesterday, and I was able to get into the house, and then lock it up afterward.
When in the house, and cleaning my brother out of the last of his chocolate which he had previously offered, I was about to use the toilet to take a piss, but lo, there was some already in the toilet, with a drop on the seat to let me know that it was likely a recent event. Meaning, that his girlfriend might have driven from her work to take a piss in his toilet, leave it there unflushed, all for me to dispose of it, and pee into the same toilet. I don't normally get into the elimination interests of the perps, but this sudden lapse in hygeinic behavior of all immediate family has not gone unnoticed over the past 4 months or so. I will spare the details, but that, in conjunction with the tactical pee-ing and shitting that is going on in my apartment at key perp interest moments such as immediately following sending an email, applying for a job online, selecting, cutting and pasting in Windows, and other like minuitae that they routinely and relentlessly noisestalk along with applying other phenomenon, suggests the perps cannot get enough of bodily eliminations to study. So, all the current urine recycling problems on the space station that is in the news, could it be the reach of the perps in fucking astronauts in a much different environment for the same reasons of remotely applied covert human bioenergetics research of bodily eliminations? One must not conflate the present imposed hell to all things of similar nature, but who tknows, except to note that it is all getting curiouser and curiouser and fits the consistent model of Earth-bound bioenergetics study being separated from those of us Earthlings.
1630h
I got a credit on my credit card, simple enough, but for my financial record keeping the Fuckwits dithered me for over 10 minutes, not letting me register the transaction correctly, and ultimately adding an "Adjustment" transaction to deal with the fuckery. Then, another look, and a new cognitive perspective was allowed, and finally I was permitted to register the transaction as a transfer. Ten minutes of farting around all to deal with a problem they created in the fiirst place, presumably to rile me up over financial transactions. And it would seem to be a set-up as my mother showed me one of her statements with "CR" and "wanted to know" if she had to pay anything on it. Always the variable ditz, and seeming engaging me with Fuckwit agenda elicitations that have research/harassment corollaries not long afterward.
Other yesterday First Feral Family action while leaf raking at my brother's place was the identical jerkaround with the hole in the glove fuckery again. One of the red fleece lined leather gloves "erupted" with a hole in one left hand finger, and so was in direct contact with soil, leaves and anything else related to raking leaves, and including the rake tines on the odd occasion. Regular readers will recall that I was picking daffodil bulbs for two months in the summer, and this involved wearing gloves and scraping the soil to find them and place them in a box for removal to the warehouse. I forget if I mentioned how many times my gloves "erupted" with left hand finger holes, sometimes over a break period when not being used. Good quality and relatively unused leather gloves would get holes in the fingers within a few days, and the disposable cotton ones would do the same. Other games related to hand contact were having me use sodden cotton gloves to pick weeds from the wet cabbage plantations and also one day in the pouring rain. And by way of perp planted notion it seems, they are purposely holing my gloves to allow just one fingertip to be exposed to soil, plant material or other at very selective intervals and situations. They also tell me that the skin can absorb various nanoparticles and that they cannot model its energetic effects in the human body, once taken in. This coming from a pack of liars, but in this case it could be true owing to this ongoing one finger glove holing that should not be happening in the case of the leather gloves.
And so, it would seem that much of this ongoing nanoparticle fuckery is so that I don't take in compounds through my hands. They routinely have me use gloves to clean the bathroom, and that might also be for the same reasons; limiting compound intake through fingers. That they had me replace my keyboard about 10 months ago might be related to this, as the old keyboard worked fine, but still the perps demanded a $75 Fuckover from a victim on a disability income when they could of supplied one themselves, the assholes.
So it wasn't too much of a surprise that when walking back to the bus stop I had two red dressed kid gangstalkers paralleling me down the street, one doing the all too common skateboard act, weaving down the hill. Then later, another kid paralleling me when walking on the latter portion of my walk to the bus stop. And lo, if there wasn't a negro dude installed at the bus stop in advance of me arriving, the exact same circumstances when I was dropped off at the same bus stop by my brother about a week and a half ago after raking leaves at his place, though a differing negro dude. Another three shiftless males incrementally arrived and closed in on me, and lo, if only a minute before the bus arrives, another negro dude arrives, seeming not to know the other one at first, but did moments later so they could stand side by side like sentries, letting me on ahead of them. Another two negros were on driveby duty. There aren't that many in town, and it is mighty curious as to why they keep "showing up" in my presence, and even are portrayed on delivery vans in this town for some reason. The only speculative reasons for this particular Unfavored group to be represented is given at the link. Suffice to say, it seems like yet another elicitation of subconscious responses to long past traumatizations to Unfavored demographic group members during the lost years of 1956 to 1959 (no recall of anything for 2.5 years at least). There must be something important about me that "needs" to be sampled/exposed to the Unfavored, and by having me on the city bus freakshow after raking leaves for three hours, they get more freak exposure.
Two weeks ago when staying at my parent's place, my mother was going on about nuns for some reason, and mentioned that they don't dress up in those funny costumes, aka, a habit. I forget how this topic got started, perhaps it was prompted by a newspaper article that morning. Again, I have no recollections as to having even seen nuns at anytime in the aforementioned "lost years" and I did seriously wonder if this is another Unfavored group that I am unaware of. Though I do know that the Catholic Church had a significant hand in the Duplessis Orphan abuse in Quebec during the 1950's and 1960's, though any connection that I have is tenuous. And as it "so happens", there is at least one Duplessis Orphan who is getting gangstalked and like harassment, who connects that stated sponsored child abuse with the current remotely applied harassment and gangstalking that I recieve. I did live in Montreal, Quebec in 1956-57, aged 2 to 3 at the time, but my Montreal recollections are sketchy, and later recollections are totally nonexistent until 1959.
2040h
Another exercise in hanging this PC; the perps need to do this every few days and have a window partially removed, often only with remaining witespace and hang the processor so I have this white-out image until I interupt the process and kill it. Then the browser is relaunched again, all to get back to where I was. This is a dual core processor and "somehow" it lacks the power to sort an existing directory that was already sorted alphabetically until the new Firefox upgrade fucked it up and made it worse.
2225h
Another three job applications were fired off in the last hour, along with tuning my resume for each one. And to no surprise, there was plenty of noisestalking of Windows select, copy and paste, as well as sending the email, addressing it, writing it, saving resume versions and all other associated minutae. I am begining to sense that many of the job advertisements seem to be arranged by local businesses, or desired situations like a two day per week job so I could continue with my disability until this time next year after taking courses to upgrade my software development skills. In other words, a certain theme is planted into mind, and then the jobs seem to match it, but of course not even an interview materializes. The perps aren't doing me any favors by sandbagging my typing, fucking with my motor control on the keyboard and the rest of the aggravations that build up to rage-ification level abusive fuckery.
Before the above job looking was tea and chocolate time, and that too was roundly noisestalked with the high speed freeway traffic noise, as well as their ongoing rage-ification games over faked noises and touches as well as their most persistent and deranged stunt yet, the re-wetting of a specific knife I use, called a Spyderco Delica. It often gets put in the knife block about 10 minutes ahead of using it to cut into the chocolate bar foil. It gets thoroughly dried, shaken, and then re-dried with a tea towel to then be placed in the knife block. About 10 minutes later after the kettle has boiled and the tea has steeped (also a perp obsession), I need to use the Spyderco knife for opening up the chocolate bar wrapping foil. And lo, if the assholes haven't slathered water beads on it to then force it to be re-dried again immediately before its intended use. In other words, drying the knife and placing it in the knife block for use ten minutes later isn't good enough; they have to go and fuck it by mysteriously applying water to the knife in the block to then piss me off as I had just dried the knife beforehand. This bizarre jerkaround has been playing nearly once per day for about two weeks, and before this insane bullshit started up, the knife was most often dried, placed in the block and it stayed dry thereafter. Not now, this expectable sequence has to be fucked with by the Surrepticious Sickos, aka, the SS.
That is segue into a new piece of related fuckery that erupted today, and being allowed for the first time in six years, to dry the cutlery with a tea towel. Normally, the little cutlery I use (another topic) air dries in the dish rack and I put them into the drawer. But all of a sudden, today, the fuckers ensure the cutlery stays wet, and have me dry it with the tea towel. Not a big deal for me, but for the SS, they went crazy with overhead pounding noise, extra street traffic noise, extra augmented noise of the cutlery "clanging" (actually, there was no contact, but just more noise augmentation as if it happened), overhead pissing noise, faux neighbor water use noise and a few others. The SS went beserk with noisetalking all over me hand drying cutlery for the first time in six years. The same tea towel as always.
But mind you, they are consistent, even if beserk. In 2006 the SS broke my Copco frypan with a copper layer under the stainless steel base by popping the spot welds one by one while the frypan was in my hand, under no stress whatsoever. A very blantant piece of sabotage to say the least. So..., and I am sure that I have blogged about it at the time, I bought a new frypan with an all aluminum base and thinner sides of chromed steel at a cost of $105, something I could of done without. And ever since, the perps have been going nuts on impairing my motor coordination while grasping and, yes, drying it with the tea towel. They even have the tea towel flipping around in extra-conventional kinetic mode unless I take it very slowly to remove the excuses they take to flick it about while in use. As deranged as the perps obsessions are, they are very consistent in applying their tea towel dried implements obsession in a progressive way, moving from frypans (after starting anew), to a specific knife, and now to cutlery. And as part of this, they have always had me use the minimum of cutlery when eating, as my usual fare is finger food for lunch and dinner, the tortillas dish they have me eat all the time.
I hope that is enough bizarreness for some decent reading, and further confirmation that no one could possibly make this up. And call this one done for the day, with the big excitement being the laundry, yet another perp obsession that this time, I will refrain from describing.
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