Sunday, February 28, 2010

Short Sunday Post

More vacuuming whine from upstairs, the second round this morning, and the second day in succession, both firsts. Given that it sounds as if there is a carpet being vacuumed, why is it that rumbling noise, hard surface tapping and hard surface contact noises also occur from upstairs? In other words, is it a carpeted floor upstairs, like any other suite, or is it a concrete surface? Never mind, is my answer, because if the sickos want the noise of glass marbles being dropped on concrete and the predictable bouncing noise tail off, then thats what they will create. The physical reality of what flooring surface is totally irrelevant for those who can create any noise anywhere, conventional causality as we know it, be damned.

And it is not unlike the scraping noises from overhead at the college where I take my evening classes. The noise sounds as if chair legs are being scraped along a floor that has some rough spots. Never mind that the floors in the classrooms are carpeted and have chairs with casters on them for crissakes. And never mind that there is NO UPSTAIRS either, as we are on the top floor of the building. Everyone else pretends to not notice this glaring physical inconguity of course.

More strange and vivid dreams this morning, seemingly related to daffodil plants and the farm fields I had been working in until two days ago. Yesterday, there were similar vivid and fugly dreams in the same theme. Another "never before" has been transcended; I have never had repeating dream content two days in succession until this morning. As well as having the same and uncomfortable intensity as well.

I am feeling better today, after yesterday's viral cold (or emulation thereof), symptoms seemed to be morphing into flu like conditions in the latter part of the day. I am taking plenty of vitamin C and echinacea, two long time successful antidotes, though I am sure this works into the perp agenda in some way. One of my office colleagues of 2002 was into supplement sales on the side, and she gave me a super dose of vitamin C as a promo, which I later ingested when confronted with viral cold symptoms. Not a big deal seemingly, but if one adopts the notion that nothing is a coincidence in my life, and that it has been orchestrated to the last detail, including exactly what I eat and ingest, it would seem the perps are doing some vitamin C testing as well as revving up  my immume system with the echinacea. In other words, these are two study areas the assholes decided to invoke for the last day, likely interrelated.

Next comes vitamin D, and the sunlight interactions which will doubtless play out in the spring and summer. They often like me to get short doses of sunny summer days, no more than two in succession, and then have me take one or more days off, and then repeat. Last year's on/off berry picking was such a legacy, and the assholes arranged it that I got laid off when there was "no work" when the berries were going soft from being over ripe on the vines. Clearly another research realm, curtailing sunlight exposure in the summertime, so who knows what the agenda/paying work scenario will be this year. If nothing else, baring any changes, there will be the daffodil bulb picking starting in July, though this can be rendered into on/off mode by invoking these strange back pains that come on "from" undertaking farm labor. But now that I am an experienced daffodil stem picker, a berry picker and a bulb picker as well as other crops, it is time the assholes gave this "back pain" bullshit a rest.

All morning the perps planted the notion that there was leaftovers to eat for lunch, and when I get to the kitchen and look in the fridge, there wasn't. I had to make the tapenade and chicken tortillas from scratch, but no big deal, as I have made this so often. But I don't make mistakes as to recalling what is ready in my fridge, and "somehow", this happened for the first time. Which goes to show one how completed invaded I am, and the level of trivia that they will go to and disrupt.

"Only" 20 rage-ifications or more while making and eating lunch, the crumb invasions being the worst. Though, more finger control dithering, as they won't let me pick something up without dropping it. This one is done for today, off for a First Feral Family visitation and dinner this afternoon and tonight

Saturday, February 27, 2010

Saturday Schlepping

Nothing is as odd as suddenly being dropped from employment with one day's notice, but that is what farming is about. Along with last night's viral cold onset symptoms, and then some episodes of forced breathing through my mouth in the early hours, likely around former get-up time of 0500h, and then following vivid and strange dreams before getting up at around 0800h. I felt tired when I got up from the extra activity the assholes delivered in the pre-awakening am.

Then some "anti viral cold" remedies, the orange fizzy tablets of vitamin C, and some echinacea drops, this seeming cold onset just might have been averted. Never mind the extra noisestalking when the fizzy vitamin C tablet was dissolving in the glass of water, and then when later like concoctions were prepared, they had me walk the apartment from one end to the other to attend to the hang-dry laundry from last night.

A long way of saying that I don't expect to be doing anything too active today, and it just might be a forced shut-in day for whatever purpose that serves besides as the rationale for extra gangstalking coverage when I make my exit after a shut-in period. Now the sirens have started up, presumably this pre-lunch moment is of vital interest, as they usually are. The ingestion of food seems to bring about a condition that the perps cannot quite master, possibly due to food colors. This week they had me prepare dinner later on a Tuesday, and then fucked me out of even knowing to head off to evening class until a half hour into it, so I ended up taking a taxi to the class, and having only eaten one half hour earlier. Which means, they wanted my classmates to be around while my food was digesting with the minimum possible time between food intake and arrival at class, with the extra bonus for the perps that all of the class got one hour's duty time without me being there. Then they fucked the usual PC I was on, so I had to take one at the opposite side of the classroom. Then on Thursday, the PC got moved to where my usual seat was. All too strange, this swapping of PC's and seats and back again, not to mention the total jerkaround of being forced to take a taxi to be one hour late for class. That kind of bullshit has never happened before, and when I add up all the "never befores", there can be only one reason, remotely applied mind control/neural access. And they still haven't finished, as the brain stem region continues to be elusive, and any time I engage in task switching I get noisestallked at that very moment.

A forced nap earlier, after lunch for an hour. Awakening from mid-day naps is always good for another 30 minutes of waking fog.

Continued viral cold symptoms, including an extra runny nose, and feeling fogged and clogged.

Then a Chicken Run to get a fresh hot cooked chicken which will be my protein source for the next two to three weeks, depending on the perp fuckery. I had at least a week's worth left, but "somehow", even with the fridge on its coldest setting, there was a pong of decay and rot setting up. As part of this confluence of food jerkarounds, the goat milk began to turn sour two days ago, and was barely drinkable this morning.  The "best before" date is March 07, and this is another example of accelerated food decay, all to have me purchase milk ( a common white color reference fof gangstalkers) and the hot chicken together in the same shopping basket. I also got a Saturday national newspaper, and that might of been part of the set up as well, as newspapers often predominate as stalking props, or the litter thereof.

The milk is usually good for two weeks, and it is a two liter container, and usually goes sour just around the "best before" date.  Sometimes two days earlier, or later. But this is over the top, the milk somethow going sour not halfway through the container, nine days in advance of the "best before" date.

On the chicken front, I wanted to get a half cooked chicken last time and none were to be had, now gettng familiar with the perp's games of accelerating decay. Again, this time I wanted to get a half chicken, and none were to be had. I am fucking enraged that I cannot purchase the quantities that I want, and that some undeclared Fuckwit Gestapo makes me waste food, week after week by arranging surpluses that I want to avoid.

A likely reason is that they want a big chunk of the old chicken, and the removings of today's chicken, the skin, juice and some of the bones, as they have me eat the meat off the carcass when I first bring it home. No utensils, no dinner plates, just eating it off the cutting board after removing the skin and neck. This is how the Chicken Run has been going on for over six years, this consisten protein source with the occasional meal at the First Feral Family and other places.

My Trackball mouse performance was highly degraded, and as part of the quaint fuckery games, if I clean it out, the performance problems will stop. I duly take it apart with some jerkarounds to get me rage-ified a few times, and am allowed to put it back together without imposed screw stripping problems or any other such adversity. It works fine as a pointing device, but now a small vibration is coming from it, seemingly a screw hasn't bedded below the surface. It is a Trackball for crissakes, it isn't meant to move anyhow, but the assholes likely want to have me get the screwdriver again and tighten down the errant screw "causing" this little game. It isn't a big deal, but it is just one more tedious example of how I get constantly messed with, and even fixing something, and playing their game, isn't enough; an additional round with the screwdriver is needed.

Other nonsense tonight is having me sneeze due to this seeming viral cold that started up yesterday on the heels of the daffodil flower picking job finishing. I am sure the events are connected; I recall some sudden onset debilitating flus timed for important meetings and initiatives I sponsored during my regular job days. I could never figure out why these auspicious events got sandbagged with flu, either beforehand and and having me drag my ass, or during, and sending me home. It is plain to me that these too were staged and orchestrated events, and that the assholes had been gaming me all this time. What the connection is exactly this time is certain, but as mentioned in past blogs, one of the central harassment themes is all matters that relate to employment, working, or their flip sides, getting laid off and the like. And mentioned many times as well, one can be sure that there are always multiple objectives being considered anytime the harassment and fuckery is increased. Tonight, they have me screaming at them for pulling objects from my hand and dithering my finger control. And the running nose imposition isn't helping either.

The overhead rumbling has started up again, and somehow gets through the earmuffs I am wearing. It is getting predictable as to when this occurs; after a meal, and when they focus on my ability to shift my attention, about the only neural circuitry of the brain stem role they cannot yet control and otherwise fuck with.

Another brief outing to the LD store to get vitamin C, and I was to get some fresh echinacea but it was not to be found. I had my usual gangstalking posse around me, even circling me when I was at the checkouts, and then out of there. The perps are very big on me eating Malteasers these days, so this uncharacteristic "need" has sprung up when I am at the LD store. This is also true for the local supermarket, and I am to wolf them down while the kettle comes to boil. Little 3/4" round chocolate coated balls with some yellowish material in them, what would that remind me of in these circumstances?

More perusing stereo equipment, always something the perps like me to do, all those box shaped things it seems.

I don't know if I am getting a flu or just a heavy cold at this point, so we shall see tomorrow. I suspect the former, and it is totally ouf of character since they went overt/beserk in 2002 to render me ill. But they can do that, and have done it in conjunction with above mentioned events. Blogging off.

Friday, February 26, 2010

Sinus Pressurization

The assholes are pressurizing my sinuses as I type, and concurrently are creating yawning spells that reveal my mouth to them. As said many times, a TI's mouth contents are of intense interest, as it is only an inch from one's brain, the site of asshole's main focus for remotely applied mind control research. As part of this spell of fuckery, they are also adding extra tears into my eyes to serve as an excuse to cover for the temporary, though continuous spell of concurrent vision fucking. You read that correctly, I am not always allowed to see normally, and the incidence of transient vision perturbations has increased substantially of late.

Maybe this sinus plugging, and viral cold onset is all amout making me breathe through my mouth as well, more labored and more noisy. Funny how this erupted today, but I suspect it was a big event day, (see below), especially with the huge highway full of gangstalking vehicles arranged by color and type. This was at 1530h, too early for the commute excuse, but it seems they perps have given up on cover stories if the arranged circumstances don't support it. And it was likely no coincidence that the light brown taupe jacket on the seat in front of me was left there for a reason, as there was a uncharacteristic quantity of same colored metallic light brown and tan brown vehicles in the gangstalking clusters, usually esconced with large numbers of white, silver grey, mid-grey and black colored vehicles. Funny how the "odd color" gets this swarm of accompanying greyscale colors, in which I include silver grey.

An a Friday surprise, the daffodil picking has ended as of today for us non-Mexican crew, i.e. us locals. And an early shutdown today as well, 1430h, making for 229 bunches picked today, a whole $45.80 for my efforts. I started off in a field with good flower picking, and then the mostly absent foreman had a collective hissy fit over us pickers getting flower buds that were too green. I got shunted over to a field that had a whole 54 bunches for 1.5 hours work on six rows, and then managed to get relocated to a more productive field for the last hour of the shortened day. Even the Mexican pickers were sent home early, so there must be a shortage of picking opportunities. The foreman indicated that if I showed up on the site as a picker next week, I would probably get work, but it comes with logistical problems of how to get cleaned up from the mud afterward. Even if they let me on the city bus slathered in mud, I have nowhere to hose my rain gear down at this apartment building complex. So it seems this flower picking gig is over, and maybe I got enough earnings to cover my immediate extra expenses of income tax and a removable drive for this PC. Now, on with studying my Oracle course work, if allowed to read or study for more than an hour a day, the current maximum before they dither me so cognition is impossible. They have been particularly consistent on this activity, and not allowing any sustained study effort.

Other concurrent activity is drying out my laundry in the apartment; the fleece and like technical fabrics don't need to be put in the dryer, and the rain gear would be trashed if that occured. The rain gear got laundered for the first time; it bears the brunt of the mud and soil contact, so it needs to be cleaned up. I managed to hose it twice after the field picking; once when on, and then again to get inside the pants where the mud would of seeped inside. All that brown mud contact, and then laundering the clothes must be something quite exciting for the perps, given their interest in all things brown, soil, and my laundry, and here all were brought together. Don't ask me why they are so freaking nuts over these colors and activities, but it has been that way from the outset. Even Ms. C of the story did my laundry for me a few times, and I wondered why she was being so magnaminous. I have had laundry stolen at least twice since the perps went overt in 04-2002, so there must be some energetic benefit that they aren't yet detecting. Call it vortex energies for now, and as always, the color and fabric type is of exceeding importance as well.

A very profuse running right nostril that has been persistent for at least a half hour. This is a rather restless evening, and I assume that is the managed state they want me in, having finished the flower picking gig today when it typically runs all March. They advertised for over a month each day in the newspapers, and only started getting serious about bringing on pickers about Feb. 10 or so. They put me off each day for over a week for whatever reason.

I am not allowed to read much at one sitting tonight, adding to the restlessness. I wonder what this portends, say, like passive viewing instead. Been there, done that.

Had it with the sniffling and sinus pressure. Am going to bed to escape, my excuse is that I got up at 0500h, but as always, the sleep duration has no bearing on the next day, unless they want to whack me.

Thursday, February 25, 2010

Daffodils in the Mud

A late blogger start so I will roll this one into tomorrow as well. It was a day of mixed weather; initial rain on the way out to the farm, then no rain when the crew bus arrived at the farm. Then when out in the fields it was sunny even, and no rain coat at least, though rain pants are vital as there can be mud pockets from weeks ago. Then in the afternoon it did rain, making the ground more slick.

I had the blonde babe to talk to at the crew pickup location; she was new, and wanted to know what was the job like. I gave her a rundown, mentioning that the gumboots she had were vital, as was rain gear for the day as it was going to be muddy, as it was raining then. Anyhow, whatever the story was, for whatever reason, she got off the bus at the next stop. Chances are this was the "introductory blonde" routine again, where the perps arrange an attractive blonde woman  with whom I have some limited verbal contact, and then she flits off, seeming to grace the location with some kind of "blonde auric goodness" as I have referred to this predictable perp arranged activity. My theory is that blondes represent some kind of karmic highwater moment, and the perps need to arrange contact at various locations, often new ones, where they are looking for some greater variance they don't seem to get with the trail of wretched Unfavoreds; vagrants, bums, loudmouths weirds and the rest. And there now quite a few of this kind of daffodil crew membership now.

Then the usual 50 minute morning clusterfuck at the farm warehouse building before setting off, then the herd somehow gets the word and they all surge forth, at least 120 pickers. This time the Mexicans did the "wrong bus" act, getting off before I could get on, timed to my arrival and to have me wait outside the bus for their exit, about eight of them.

I got a got two rows of daffodils to pick and was looking to get a over 400 bunch pick day, and then one of the foremen had a (staged IMHO) blow up with other pickers at about 1300h, arranged at the moment I was handling the brown rubber bands, always a key gangstalk, noisestalk and disruption moment. And so we had to move to a sparse field, and it was raining by this time. I had at least an 800' pair of rows, and had to cut well below the soil line to get the needed stem length as the rows had been picked the day before, going by the footprints. So... I go up the row, and get a box at the row end to then put the daffodil bunches in and keep with me on the way down, and lo, for some 200' of my row all the bunches were gone. Someone, or some teleporting jerkaround stunt, had stolen at least 10 bunches of my daffodils I had plainly placed in the row. And even with two foremen around, no one had seen any one doing this. The guy three rows over reported the same thing. No doubt said bunches will show up in later days and weeks; I scored at least five bunches of daffodils that other pickers had left behind, or at least that was what it seemed. I have seen fresh picked bunches as well, where I have no idea where they came from, but "arrived" within 3' of me, and I know I did not pick them.

Other inanities/kerkarounds was the next row picker somehow "decided" to encroach on one of my rows (we take two at a time, working between the two rows), and that cleaned me out of some 50 bunches I reckon, and when I got back to the start, the foreman didn't have any more rows to pick. Ergo, I had to wait for the bus for some 50 minutes in the rain, and some dozen gangstalking pickers and staff. So... where did the rest of the 110 daffodil pickers go, as they all "filtered out" over the course of the latter part of the day, unnoticed by me, and there was (ostensibly) a bus that took them away, and no one said anything about it. An reasonable explanation can be made for the 50 Mexican pickers, in that they are handled and managed separately, but that leaves 60 gringo (or other) pickers that just "disappeared" off the daffodil fields, due to rain seemingly, and having a bus there to meet them early. And they weren't at the warehouse marshalling area when we got back around 1645h, so they even got an early bus into town for themselves. Mighty strange at any rate, that so many pickers can just "filter out" and be managed so to get their own bus.

Other behavioral weird stuff was having two staff members descend nearby, coming from the edge of the property, and they had no vehicle. This was the head grower and the lead farmhand, both of whom I know and worked for from 08 to 11-2009, and somehow, they "arrived" just ahead of me having my lunch. (Brown tortillas). And they seemed to be in a grim an uncommunicative state, barely saying hello and marching on with no seeming purpose, except to walk briskly. Very strange it was. Later they did a more idling walk around when I was captive and waiting for the infernal crew bus to come. Normally they don't work together as the grower directs the staff to harvest and do farm maintenance duties, so it was most odd to see them putting on the joint field visitation twice in one day. I reckon they were doing some kind of distance dependent energetic interaction, N.-S. in the morning, and E.-W. in the afternoon, as both of them have plenty of interaction events when I did more sustained and variable work activities in the fields and greenhouses in fall of 2009.

An early start to get things done, Thursday being both yoga and the evening DBA course, assuming I don't get fucked out of knowing to go, which has "happened" in both instances, and the Fuckwit who made that happen deserves a home run hit to the chops.

A sheets, towels and wool socks laundry day, which almost invariably is accompanied by a sudden "need" to clean the bathroom concurrently. The assholes started up the Pseudosweats as well, adding additional sweat to an otherwise benign exercise, and making my shirt, arms and forehead soggy. That begat using the fresh towel to wipe my forehead, and then immediately after that, a sudden need to pee, which begat cleaning my hands afterward, this time wet from the sink water and the soap I used. All very predictable at times, and towels, and towel drying oneself is a huge perp research front, and they cannot get enough of it. The dryer cycle will expire with the sheets dry, the towels still damp, and the socks getting hung to dry. Ergo, clothing samples from the stages of dying; before, normal cycle, and an extra cycle.

And endless research into removable hard drive racks last night, likely the fourth time I have spent researching this, never mind the alliteration of manufacturer names like Icy Dock, IStar, StarTech and Stardom. Then there is the feature flux; trayless (ideal), low quality and higher quality products, three drive bays with switches for each, availibility of trays, and then availibilty when ordering, being screwed twice on the last count in the past three weeks, and back to square one again. Then sending emails to manufacturers about the availibility of parts and so it goes. Just to think my IDE drives of five years ago I had a removable hard drive, but the extra tray was always kept out and was never filled. This time it might be for real, having two trays, each with their own operating system to bypass the imposed skein of adversity over boot managers not working, then virtual O/S software not installing. One long train of sabotage and instignation, and they had me going on adding this to my PC over 10 years ago, and it might now come to fruition, but not without the cycle of promotion and then adversity. And never mind the RAID stuff for now, I have enough technical hurdles on my plate, and for the next two months if allowed to get serious about the Oracle OCA exam preparation.

The post yoga noise attack from upstairs; the bare tile over concrete marble dropping noise that somehow gets through the earmuffs. Now the over and under revving bus noise, unlike any I have heard anywhere else I I have lived.

And a significant increase in outside noise at yoga as well; constantly slamming doors, thumping and clunking overhead, and the inevitable train of loud mufflers, motorcycles and heavy duty vehicles from outside. It was a Ying yoga, very slow paced, and I suppose that in some way it fits the perp imperative, the longer pose times.

Bizarre dreams last night, almost out of this world it seemed; visiting some kind of geological site, as well as marvelling at the size of a harbor, and yet somehow it was on an inland waterway. It was vivid, but not coherent, and the assholes kept playing it while I was having breakfast. And that is something that never happened ever before, dreams invading my awake time.

Still on the removable hard drive rack for my PC. I ended up talking to a rep for iStar, and then getting the forms to fill out and fax, just like the old days pre-internet ordering. Don't ask me why the part (extra tray) isn't posted on their site, nor about there being no online ordering either. I am sure the perp hand must be all over this, as it is all too quaint, if not retro. And perhaps they want the parts to be going through as few hands as possible, given their obsessive interest in how things and people come into my proximity.

It was yesterday that my regular and loopy apartment lobby stalker slipped into the elevator behind me, after following the yellow fleece jacketed fat woman with thick glasses, and out of the blue, he asks me what "FOB" means. I told him, and wondered yet again why he puts on this "screw loose" act all the time when his timing is impeccable at to arriving ahead or behind me, and lo, if the term "FOB" doesn't appear on the iStar order form today. Just one of those things, except in my case, I don't have any happenchance events, and never did from the getgo.

Way too late for an 0500h get-up for daffodil picking tomorrow, but the Oracle DBA evening class was on tonight. Then I got screwed into missing two buses afterward. The first one left two minutes early, and I waited in the building, and lo, if it didn't leave four minutes early. I should know better, but I am not allowed to, "forgetting" these regular jerkarounds isn't the real me. So.. a 30 minute wait for the next one, and then the driver leaves three minutes late, seeming to protract the "keep me there" time, not unlike the 50 minute clusterfucks at each end of the day when doing the daffodil picking job. An extra fifty minutes of bus waiting time pisses me off severely, and there is no reason for these time awareness mindfucks and orchestrating early bus departure but to screw me around.

Then three young couples board the bus, this now, 2240h, seeming to need to go to downtown on a Thursday. Plenty of fat girls, and high skirts for me to see some massive thighs. Then the prototypical skateboarding dude boards five minutes later and inserts himself into the couple's conversation. That they sat down around me wasn't unexpected, as I have found myself among this act before. But the dude made out that he was involved enough to sit beside me, having me move my briefcase for the fucker, and so I had this raucous Fuckwit in a pastel green ball cap yammering away right beside me. Thankfully only eight more minutes of this bullshit before I got off.

I was finally allowed to figure out the reason for the above quaint fax ordering system for the iStar removable rack. I went to the office shop before getting on the bus, and had to photocopy my credit card and driver's licence as part of the deal. The perps got some of my wallet contents flashed with the photocopier, as well as me paying cash, one green $20 bill in exchange for a blue $5 and a purple $10 in change, so all that wallet action and associated color changes of the bills in it is just too interesting for the Fuckwits to let up.

Enough blogging, and off to do piece work tomorrow; rain, and by extension, mud is predicted.

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Upgrade and Wait

The PC upgrade nonsense is continuing; no emails from the two parties, the one with the backordered removable hard drive rack, and the local supplier who is likely to have a different and more expensive model, but one that is (or was) availible. What the fuck is it from the perp perspective about sabotaging the very activity they want me to undertake? That the perps like to promote incidences of ineptitude, incompetance and indolence is unquestioned, but what do the perps get out of it, besides forcing retakes and pissing me off?

My first Sunday email to the local supplier was answered on Sunday, a day they are normally closed, indicating that they would look into determining if there was a removable hard drive in stock the next day. No problem. (Which is what there was two weeks ago, but their sudden price hike from $59 online to $79 deterred me). But no email Monday (yesterday) as promised, and I finally had to phone them this morning (Tuesday). And no reply from the online backordered supplier all Monday, and not this morning in response to me sending an email to (prematurely) cancel the order. Why is something so fucking simple turned into this orchestrated Fuckover Scene where Third Word service is becoming the norm? Go fuck your own operatives somewhere else, I am sick fed up in not being able to conduct rational business activity.

The usual chirps and heavy duty vehicle noise interspersed with backup beepers and other constant noise from outside. The one moment I went to the window to take a picture, there was a sudden burst of white, read and orange vehicles, some being two tone, others one color. A five second look outside is planned to the nines by the sickos. Even a two second glance outside has pre-arranged vehicle stopped in mid-street.

The ongoing PC removable rack ordering saga continues; the local supplier is looking into it, seeming at odds with their stated availibility two weeks ago. The online supplier responded with a blanket statement that the items are on order, which didn't answer my demands of how much longer, or cancelling this fucking charade so I can go elsewhere, hopefully the local supplier, but this alternative is being made to seem uncertain, unlike two weeks ago.

But no, a misread, the online supplier appears to have dropped the Icy Dock removable tray from the order, but came up with the "rationale" that my remaining item, the hard drive, is backordered too. Thank goodness they didn't have me ream their asses out when they did exactly what I asked, even if they did cloak it in the language of the dropped item. Now I am hanging out there, hoping the infernal local supplier is going to come through. More suspense.  Chances are one part will arrive to hang around for a week until the other part arrives, the typical incremental strategy, as the perps don't like too many inter-related items arriving all at once. They need items to have some "fallow time" in my place.

Another stunt yesterday that I will detail here, rather than go back and add yet more revisions to the posting. (And the perps do love me to go back and re-edit just after thinking something was done, or else force re-printing or other re-work.) I was in the LD store looking at some DVD titles, with one in hand (The Party), and then the alarm system to the DVD and video section goes off behind me, and when I turn around, this-cafe-au-lait negro woman with a fuzzy hair mop is looking at me. Here she is, just tripped the alarm system, and has time to be staring at me when I turn to look at what the commotion was. In the scheme of things, this would be two Unfavoreds in one person, frizzzy wild hair and negro. And presumably seeing such a visage with the alarm noise is for some kind of aural and and visual (of the Unfavored) neural correlation, not to mention whatever the assholes expect to get from staring at me. The elaborate levels of planning for momentary fuckery (less than two seconds worth in this case) is astounding, this being one more example, similar to the above vehicle arrangements just for when I walk past the balcony window.

The infernal vacuum cleaning has arrived outside my door, following tea and chocolate. At least three off-on cycles as well, as there is always a big EMF kick when appliances are turned on or off. Anyhow, vacuum cleaning is a significant component of the perp's research methods, even including the large "suck trucks" that now predominate in this town, cleaning road drains at least twice per year.

A 50 minute nap, and then back online to find that I got an email response to my phone inquiry, and that the local supplier doesn't have the removable hard drive rack they claimed that had two weeks ago. So... back to this again, having lost two weeks due to "back order", I get to again research this topic online, and it wasn't very productive last time, hence the back ordered compromise, and then getting burned by it. This insane order obstruction fuckery has got to stop.

What an insane jerkaround for the rest of the evening. I should of been on the 1750h bus to my evening class, but somehow I "forgot" the most important event tonight, and so it was a later dinner at 1900h, and on the heels of having dinner, I was reminded that my class had already begun at 1830. So a $24 cab fare to the college, I get to be an hour late for a three hour class. I would of been intensely pissed if the assholes hadn't dociled me into being more obedient and less outraged. Then the remaining class was a gong show as my PC had corrupted files, and then I had to move to another one, the PC desk where the instructor's red anorak was draped over the chair. Then other settings were right, files couldn't be found, and then it was a test PC so I didn't need to run all the scripts after all, and then the passwords weren't correct and then that compromised my ability to do the lab. Other people were having problems too, and so the entire class ran late, two buses later, I finally get the one at 2226h (1026pm), which is why this is so hurried and not full of the associated trivia and perp planted details that have fouled my evening. The only reason I took the day off was for this evening class, and the assholes fucked it totally out of mind for the entire day. Then a $24 hit to get there instead of the bus.

Enough skullduggery, and off to do daffodil picking in the rain tomorrow. The onset of light rain came on for the above mentioned cab ride, and then full on rain when coming back on the later bus. Anyhow, off to do piece work again.

Monday, February 22, 2010

Call of the Daffodils + 02-23-2010 Updates

Two days of daffodil flower picking are over. I will take tomorrow off (a Tuesday) to sort out the back ordered/no show removable hard drive rack for my PC. And of course the perps make me do this ass backwards. The process should of been to confirm the local source first, then cancel the back ordered item second. But no, I got fucked into doing it backwards, without confirmation of local supply, and I "forget" and send an email to cancel the backorder. I hope I can sort this all out tomorrow with a minimum of fuss, but this entire bullshit was exacerbated by the fact that the backorder outfit didn't reply to my email today, and neither did the local supplier. One fuck up after another, and then they have me fuck up as well, putting this much protracted exercise, now into its third week, into deeper doubt. And this removable rack order started because the perps wouldn't let me load a boot manager (tried four different ones) and then they wouldn't let me install VMWare, which would of provided a Linux environment, which is what I want. This insane litany of technical sabotage has been playing out for at least five weeks, and I am sick fucking fed up of this, and the rest of this senseless obstruction and sabotage.

And that is only the PC and the Linux environment. Then I want to load Oracle 11g on it, plus some Oracle software tools, and then use it to learn and study what is being taught in my evening class. I am only six weeks late already. And as well, the assholes continually dither me after an hour of studying, so this is all getting rather tense as I want to write two exams on this material to earn some kind of credential, rather than being only a course participant. My plan is to study most of April and write the exams in the latter part. But as I am doing this with "new company", erstwhile sabateurs from hell, and it behooves me to get on with it, and I cannot. One delay after another after another and then the technical hurdles mentioned above still must be accomplished.

Back to other perp arranged inanity. Two extened 1.5 hour delays before picking was permitted, today and yesterday. That means no pay for hanging around with some 100 daffodil pickers, now getting infiltrated with some wackos. There were more housewife types last week, but they seemed to have dropped out, and the trail of strange dudes (mostly males) has been inserted. Why, even a skateboarder "happened" to catch the crew bus on the approach to the highway, so the bus stops in the adjacent lane and picks up this tall blonde weird with long hair, beard, red sweater and his freaking skateboard. Never seen the guy before, so how did he know to get the bus there, which by rights, shouldn't of stopped there and obstruct the traffic behind it. Stranger things have "happened" on the crew bus, but not more blatant ones.

Me, and some hundred gringos or so, plus 50 Mexicans, got to hang around in the farm warehouse grounds until the chief grower allowed us to set off picking, as the daffodil stems were frozen from the frost. And of course it it prime gangstalking time then, having the victim captive with all the weirds. Lets see; there were at least two lying down horizontal on the packed gravel surface, two doing some kind of ass-to-ass yoga, at least four dudes aligned and doing some kind of stretches, one with his feet wide and a plastic grocery bag dangling between his legs, and  then there was the grotesque red fuzzy mop haired dude did at least three pass-bys as I was sitting on the concrete wall for the entire time. All the while I got to listen to the inane banter going on, though thankfully no Scottish or British accents, though some other Germanic languages which doesn't seem to perturb me in the same way. (Or, at least, that is how the perps control my "reactions" to be).

And how is it that I am either first or last on the bus so often? This morning, after waiting, and the word came down that we could go picking, I went to get the right gear for a warm day, which it was, and wasn't gone more than three minutes and when I came out, both buses were filled up and I was the last to get on. Yesterday, two identical crew/school buses were lined up at the day's end, and I sat on the first one, and no one came on board. Then after some 15 minutes, the 50 Mexicans arrive plus one gringo and fill the bus. Their foreman tells us two gringos that the bus wasn't going back to the farm, so we got off to go in the bus behind where all the gringo daffodil pickers were on the bus. So how did everyone know they were to go to the second bus and not the first one, and how did they know that the Mexicans were going to have their own bus when the  two crews were mixed in the morning's run to the daffodil fields? Funny how all this groupthink is just so plain efficient and I am not in on it. And as it turned out, the bus with the Mexicans DID stop at the farm warehouse, and we could of stayed on board.

What else is there about the continuing toil in the fields of daffodils? Plenty, especially when I am handling the groups of 25 elastic bands (think brown color) that I arrange on black carabiners so they are stored ready in discrete quantities. They had three around me first thing this morning when I was first transferring the 25 elastic bands on the black colored carabiner to my leftmost two fingers on my black gloved left hand where they stay slightly stretched, enough to hold them there. Anytime I do this in the field, and not just when starting with other milling around me, the perps put on extra street/road traffic noise, extra tractor noise or someone starts a conversation. Yesterday, my daffodil row mate "needed" some of my elastics immediately after I finished replenishing my supply onto the carabiners. All to sample the brown, it seemed, the brown being the color of the elastics that bunch ten daffodils, the unit of pay. (See the posting  All Things Brown and Beautiful under the Consolidated Links List at the right if you are unfamiliar as to the perp's obsession over all things brown). We are to pick over 7 million daffodils as part of the contract to the Canadian Cancer Society. That is a whole lot of daffodils any way you cut it.

Another pisser today was my daffodil cutting knife, one that I kept sharp each day by sharpening it up with a diamond hone, was lost. I left it in a box of daffodils at the far end of the field as there was no foreman around to tally the count. When I later encounter the forewoman, I ask her to retrieve my knife as a favor when she does her rounds to tally my daffodil bunches. And lo, it "so happens", that she does retirieve it, but she loses my knife before she got back. I don't believe it; she isn't a careless person, she even lost her own personal knife, and somehow she loses my knife too. I had a spare, so it was put to use; the knife had been in my kitchen drawer in a plastic tray for the past 2.5 years, so it is likely that this knife losing stunt was well planned. I just don't get it; why have someone else lose my knife for me when they could of fucked me into losing it "myself"?

And it seems as part of the show, it is important to the perps as to how I sharpen the knife, and what color the honing device is, and what materials it is made of. I switched to a two grit diamond hone for the first time last week, and marvelled at how I didn't have to hone the knife for an hour to get the edge sharp. And not having to dress the stone to unclog the porous structure is another bonus. So I would assume this knife losing incident is part of the stunt of testing the interaction of the two different kinds of knife steel with that of the sharpening device and that of the daffodil stem cutting. And too, the color of the plastic "dots" filler on the hone; why didn't they make the entire surface the diamond hone the same material instead of adding the plastic filler? Go figure.[later, I read that it is to allow the residual metal space so it doesn't clog the hone surface].

I could riff on for all the knives that I have "lost" over the years, now assigned to perp meddling and fuckery, as they still go apeshit with noise anytime I use a knife, especially when I cut up the cooked chicken meat, (and even as I type this). I have had knives that got lifted from my airline luggage, one that strangely flipped out of what I considered to be a secure sheath, a Buck knife that went missing "by itself" in my apartment in 2003, and its predecessor Buck knife that strangely broke and was replaced. The perps constantly lobby me to get a ceramic knife for the kitchen, but as they cost $100 or more, I tell them to deliver one instead, which they don't do of course. Their modus operandi is to have me "find" one somehow, though for such an exotic item, that would be truly odd. I need a better gig than daffodil picking to afford that kind of luxury.

And how long have humans being making cultery; swords, knives, etc. in the bronze age, then the iron age, etc. and here we have the perps hounding me over which kind of knife I use and how I sharpen it. My 12" chef's knife has been in my posession for over 30 years, and always leached some rust if it was left to air dry, so I would dry it immediately after doing the dishes. In 2003, the perps decided they didn't like the kind of steel it was made from, and slowly changed it over a week or two into a different kind of steel that does not leach iron oxide (rust). I haven't devoted much thought to why the perps are so fucking beserk over knives, and my use of them, but I would surmise that the iron, and all the other elements that are made into the knife steel all have various "earth energies" (from the ore), and these are conveyed to the food or object when it is being cut. Some people say they can taste the metal on knife cut food, though that isn't true for me.

A possible "countermeasure" or perp confounding measure might be for the TI to ingest some iron powder, assuming this is safe after one does their homework to determine this. I have looked in the past, but could not find any Canadian suppliers, as I didn't want to take the risk it would be intercepted and not allowed. Idle speculation on my part; dither one's own electromagnetic signature. Perhaps ingesting colloidal silver in healthful quantities might be a better method of achieving the same end.

There were other strange eruptions on the daffodil picking front that aren't coming into memory, so I will leave this posting for now, and will add them in later.

02-23-2010 Updates

More recollections from yesterday's daffodil picking in the farm fields are now permitted. It was the day of wearing the deep grey undershirt, and hence, per past experiences, extensive flypasts of the deep grey colored military helicopter that frequents that area for some unknown reason as there is no military base or helicopter operations center nearby, only a commercial (international) airport. I gave up wearing this undershirt as there was an undeniable correlation of the Sea King flypasts whenever wearing it when doing farm work duties in the fall last year, (09 to 11-2009), but as it "happened", this same deep grey undershirt was my only option yesterday, and so it wasn't too much of a surprise to see this very same helicopter making at least 15 passes by the farm fields yesterday. As always, some kind of blackish beam emanated from the radome. And too, these daffodil fields are a half mile further south and west of where I was working last fall, and the flight path seemed to be changed to accomodate its usual E. flight path to be in the same respective horizon position of the daffodil fields I was working in. As mentioned last fall, the Sea King helicopters are usually a light colored grey, but this particular one is a deep grey color, matching that of my single deep grey undershirt. Time to toss it.

Other deep grey color attention yesterday was a bulk cement transporter, presumably loaded with cement, that lead the crew bus for most of the 10km drive into downtown at the end of the day. I see about two bulk cement tractor trailers a month, so who knows, maybe it was just coincidence. Plenty of perp beserkness over this deep grey color has been noted in the past, and I suppose they are working through their leveraging of small amounts of the color on clothing, the deep grey vinyl palms of my black stretchy work gloves, to that of my undershirt (under black fleece sweater and a mid blue fleece vest), and who knows what, up to a tractor trailer and pup load of cement. I don't know the reason for these incremental color exposures, a small amount immediately close (e.g. clothing portion) leading up to a larger amount further away (e.g. bulk cement some 40' in front), but it is as consistent as it is relentless.

And on the negro exposures front, they introduced a negro male onto the crew who was working some 20' distant, and then pulled him further away after some 10 minutes, which is what they nearly always do. (On the city bus they werre pulling off the male negroes within five minutes for a time). A mentioned before, they are less than 3% of the population in this area,  and yet have a disporportinate amount of perp arranged gangstalking exposure. And when doing the forced outing to the LD for a pharmacy refill because their phone refill system was inexplicably on the fritz, why, there was a negro male on "just standing there" duty (aka sentry duty) outside my apartment building on the sidewalk of the same height and build as the one in the daffodil crew yesterday. It was too dark for a positive identification, but chances are it was the same one, going by this same coincidence being played out earlier (described next).

When I got off the crew bus yesterday in downtown, and walked a half block, why, there was one of the dudes on the daffodil picking crew who wasn't on the bus, "happening" to be waiting at a traffic controlled street corner some 15' ahead. And as I was making the identification it was the same Fuckwit, he slowly turns around for absolutely no reason and looks at me through his ridiculous wrap around shades on 1750h, close to dusk), and then slowly turns around to return his gaze to look at the street he was about to cross. This isn't the first time that a Fuckwit has done a "pose and stare", to expressly look behind himself (note, spinal twist, perp favorite move after head scratching) for absolutely no reason, but it is interesting that they have Fuckwit bait in place that I gradually identify as a co-worker or doppelganger thereof, who gives me the stare for no reason, looking behind them so to incorporate a spinal twist. Advice for the sickos; stick to blondes instead of these fugly dudes.

Enough of yesterdays Fuckwit World, and on with today's.

Saturday, February 20, 2010

Balmy Winter Days

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Enough for a post, such as it is.

Friday, February 19, 2010

Increasing the Provocations

More increased provocations today, the assholes getting me truly enraged and thereby "readied" (and red-ied) for a downtown visitation. The bank deposit got me three red dressed fuckers around me in the line up, the assholes plugging up the ATM, my usual deposit method, and having no teller line up. I got the pretty blonde babe as teller, after she had a red coated customer. I suppose this was a combination of me occupying a space where a red dressed (Unfavored color) customer was standing, with a prety young blonde as the reference (Favored).

And another Fuckover when taking a shit; not only a change over in toilet paper rolls, but they splattered shit 2' away on the vertical side of the bathtub. There was no action on my part that would of caused it, and somehow it got there. Then two toilet backups to deal with, one being totally gratuitious as there was no apparent cause. The extra-conventional gravitic abuse and harassment has been getting worse, and the perps are ensuring that my "reactions" are immediate rage at the 2006 levels when it culminated both in an eviction and a sudden decrease. But now, it is back to that sustained level of abuse, except no neighbor complaints. And for the record, in 2006, I didn't have any neighbors there, same as here, so just who was complaining anyhow?

Other events today were yoga, something the perps have a huge interest in, arranging all manner of concurrent noise. After nearly two years of yoga, where class members are all in place at least ten minutes ahead of time, I was second to arrive with the grotesque negro woman being first. No one else came until two minutes before the class started, a most unusual start today. There was at least one mid-class departure, something that makes no sense as why come at all. There were the usual masers and plasma beams flitting around the room, and on balance, it was a welcome relief from daffodil bulb picking. The Fuckwit Flock was out in full when I exited the building and walked back to my apartment; a long skein of the Unfavored; two wheelchairs, fat folk, a woman street spitter, the shiftless loitering males, the multiculturals and cyclists on the sidewalk.

Other gangstalking flotsam from this morning besides the surfeit of Redcoats was military dressed Fuckwits. An airman, blue uniform against the blue color of the parking ticket machine, and another when about to exit the bank, some beret wearing army Fuckwit somehow got ahead of me. As before, there is no airbase near here, and no army base, only reserves, and yet these fuckers keep showing up. Back in 2007 for 8 months, there was army personnel on the street every time I exiited yoga and walked back to my place. What the sickos are attempting to accomplish with this elaborate dress-up fuckery is beyond me, except to conject that it might be something to do with subconscious memory emulation, relating to unrecalled events of the memory blanked lost years when aged 2 to 5 yo.

There is a connection with yoga in that the Fuckwit gangstalkers are often flexing their spines in public; bending over on the crosswalk was a new stunt today, but often looking sideways at nothing in particular while making a 90 degree turn. Other postures seen are crouching low down, backs facing me, and looking up, again at absolutely nothing. Orchestrated public inanity.

More gratuitious foot and finger jabbings from no apparent source, seemingly to get me to vocalize a mindfuck planted "reaction". The sickos are still keeping with the instant rage-fied "response", which invariably invokes the question expressed aloud, as to "who did ... to me?"

A day of picking daffodil flowers for $0.20/bunch (of ten), and I increased my production to an even 400 bunches today, as I had been topping out at 360 to 380. Don't ask how or why, as the finger fumbling and the cognitive jerkarounds are as frequent as ever, though they now let me use the knife the right way round. (Mostly, still some backwards attempts today). And they now tell us when the stop time is and when the crew bus leaves, something vital that wasn't mentioned until today. Often I would leave too early, not knowing what the shutdown time was. I even asked one of the staff who I worked for in the fall, and he didn't give me an answer to the cessation of operations time.

I met the owner of the farm today, as I was talking to one of his staff at the marshalling area before we go to the fields. I suppose one could call it the business-owner-gangstalk act, as this appears to be a common refrain in all the goings on since the perps went overt in 04-2002. He is a nice man, and I don't hold any grudges or ill will for him or his business. In fact, I am grateful for the work as everyone else seems to not reply. Even the cleaning prospects dried up over the last month.

And almost unbeliveable, but my imposed back pain was ameliorated, and in having most of it removed after some three hours of leaning over two days ago. The perps have me on a on-off alternating cycle of days of work, then off, then work, then all day class (tomorrow), and so it goes, these alternating days that "happen", per perp orchestration IMHO.

And it was the day that 50 Mexicans came to work in the fields, as this has been done for some four years now, and many are returning. I happened to be in the change room when they all filed by, another fine coincidence. As far as I can tell, they fit in with the rest of us locals, in all our varied forms, and work and travel side by side.

And what is with these infernal and disgusting mohawk hairdos? Another one this morning on the daffodil crew, and "happened" to be one guy I worked with for two months in the fall. Then later this evening, when getting my elevator escort leading ahead of me in the lobby, another mohawk hairdo on this obese dude crouching down at the mail boxes near the front doors of the building. I had some on the city bus last week, at least two of the four trips I made.

And what is with the outbreak of marajuana smoke smell? It starts happening when I start the daffodil picking Feb. 13, and even the forman was in on the act. Now, every day I am working, someone, somewhere is blowing on a spliff. And if that wasn't enough, a coincidental outbreak of ganja smoke has started in the streets in the daytime on my days off. A negro woman was sucking on ganja on my way to yoga yesterday, and today, another negro was ahead of me in his disgusting corn row hair and blowing yet more ganja smoke tonight.

I see that they had me with a nearby negro daffodil picker today, and lo, if she isn't next to me on the bus, across the aisle. And prior to getting on the bus, another negro woman "happening" to walk by, though not a picker. A very odd sight in the rural Central Saanich, and yet they keep popping up.  And before I get off, another negro, male this time, was doing his strut ahead of me. Once off the bus, and two blocks removed, another negro, female was doing the lead-ahead gangstalk for the last block before arriving at my apartment building. I don;t have any direct knowledge as to why the perps put on a disproportionate number of negro gangstalkers, but it is getting absurd as to their get-up and the way they are portrayed. Straight out the 1960's sometimes.

And heavy road traffic noise today while picking daffodil flowers. Only some 30' from the road at first, and I didn't pick more than 150' of two rows the the whole day. Constant noise, and often accented with extra noisey mufflers, extra loud motorcycles, extra loud dump trucks and a few sirens in there too. Some aircraft, but no SAC bombers today, and no strange helicopters. Often the noise was arranged just as I sut the flower stem, and seems to be in the vein of similar hijinx when they have me do landscape pruning activities for the First Feral Family.

Anyhow, I am tired after a day of piece rate labor, and I am going to call this one done and post it.

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

Partial Software Installs and Farm Work Add-On

Feb.16, 2010
I was to load VMWare on this PC to create a Linux environment to install Oracle Database to support my class work studies. And yet again, another partial software install, and then having to uninstall it with Revo. A second attempt gave the Catch 22 experience; "software has been detected, cannot install". More file hunting and deletions, and still nothing would work. But this is not the first time of late; I had all the Lightscribe (DVD labelling) software from the Plextor drive install, and most of the software suite was there, excepting for the one that actually initiated the software to do its central function.

What is the big deal about software installations that the sickos need to sabotage? Still ongoing is the jerkarounds as to being allowed to play a DVD; though this might have "resolved" all by itself, something that does happen on this PC.

Feb. 17, 2010
A full day of daffodil flower picking; I still cannot crack 400 bunches (10 stems/bunch) for the whole day. I picked up my paycheck and I see that I am 375 bunches short of my own tally that I keep, so I am assuming that there were some perps jerkarounds at work, keeping that nice round number that is divisible by 75, the very number of bunches per crate we fill in the field. Too cute, and just another pissaround, meaning a phone call and the like. I am hoping that the field data loggers are in error, and it will be fixed.

The entire crew bus was filled with the freaks and all those that gravitate to piece work in seeming readiness for me to come on the bus with paycheck in hand. As always, the perps are relentlessly fixated upopn all my financial transactions, and getting paid is one form of many.  And a full on freakshow of the Unfavored, with two of the infernal hurl-do dreadlock hair immediately in front of me. Also two seats ahead was a woman wearing a toque with deep braiding that resembled dreadlock hair, save that it was too symetrical and that it looked more like a teapot cozy.

Other freaks getting more gangstalking exposure time are the mohawks on males; one on the city bus yesterday, and at least two on the crew bus today. I also see the negro farmworkers are getting more exposure, now up to at least three of them by the fourth day of daffodil flower picking. No negroes on the first day, a woman negro on the second day, and as of today, my fourth working day, at least two males have joined the club. In 2008 on the bulb picking crew they put on a negro woman wth whom I spoke to a few times, and I didn't see her again until two months ago (late 2009) when she "happened" to be walking past the bus stop while I was waiting for the bus. And while waiting for the crew bus after flower picking, I see they also put on the negro who I saw on the city bus in the fall, a dude in a ridiculous gold fabric ball cap. No one could pay me enough to look that stupid, never mind being a fish out of water in Central Saanich, farm country.

And what is with the eruption in hoodies all over the place; downtown, city bus, farm crew bus and and the college where I take my evening classes. And no less, they board the warm bus with the hoodie down, and it being decidedly colder outside, and once seated in my view, they put the hoodie up. It doesn't make any sense. The sickos like me to see hoodies from every angle, and there maybe multiple objectives at play; partial face/head reveals, the alien like silhouette with the larger seeming neck, and also there maybe some subconscious traumatization re-enactment, which seems to be one of the drivers for the gangstalking freakshow. These are embodied in the Unfavored, the posting explaining this in the list to the right.

And all day in the farm fields, though not particularly restive owing to the traffic noise, I kept getting this burning rubber smell up my nose. I looked for a source a number of times, but there was none. It came on strong when I was handling the brown colored elastic bands for bunching the cut flowers, and the assholes pulled the smell again in my apartment when I was also handling the elastic bands. They also put the smell on when I was getting ready to take a shower. I often get noisestalked when I put on or take off clothes. The clothing and its colors are a big deal in all of this harassment, and especially checks and tartans with their varying tones.

While flower picking there was the generalized din of road traffic, aircraft overhead (four SAC bombers) and the sirens and emergencies. One siren cascade, replete with the 1960's version occured as I was handling the brown elastic bands and counting them into 25's and putting them on a clip to retain them in readiness to put around two of my left hand fingers where they are convenient to grasp.

I am too physically trashed to do any more posting for today. Though it was interesting today that the perps didn't apply their backache tricks when I was picking daffodils in the leaning over stance. The field was wet soupy gumbo mud, almost pulling my boots off at each step, and that prevented any kneeling or crouching, what I usually do. So..., normally I get a back ache when leaning over, but no today for the three hours I was in the gumbo. It will be interesting to see what they do to me tomorrow, a day off from flower picking owing to the logistical problems of getting back into downtown an hour earlier than usual.
Enough of this pedantic rambling, and time to post it.

Monday, February 15, 2010

Production Increases

Another day of toil in the daffodil fields; 384 bunches today, and at $0.20/bunch, I would of been better on minimum wage at $9/hour. The weather was a little chilly, and it was the day that I decided not to wear a thermal undershirt owing to yesterday's wonderf warmth. Not quite the same today, but I am sure keeping busy kept me warm too. The real hotshots at picking daffodil flowers say they can get 1,000 bunches per day. There won't be any of that kind of dough for me, but the finger fumbling harassment was less today than the day before.

I am whacked out and muscle sore today, not being teribbly motivated to blog tonight, and I will take tomorrow off owing to the logistical problems of getting to my Oracle DBA evening class tonight. It is near impossible to do both one day without a vehicle as all the muddy gear has to be cleaned, and then getting to the bus stop and the rest of the back and forthing to get clean enough to take the city bus.

It is a Monday today, and it was still prone to Harley Davidson noise, sirens, including at 1960's version, and aircraft noise, of which there was at least four SAC bombers that I heard while out picking flowers.

There wasn't the Featured Fuckwit today, just more peripherial freaks who weren't in my vision every time I turned around. There was the dreadlocked blonde woman about 30' away, and she did manage to get into the seat in front of me for a short crew bus trip, survivable at least. (It so happens that I loathe the sight of dreadlock hair, (an Unfavored demographic feature) or at least, that is how I am being managed. And as attractive blondes seem to be an entre into Favored status, it has been roundly clear that the sickos use blondes (Favored) to leverage Unfavored features. Anothe example is my loathing of brown colors, or else it is the perp's fixation, but very often blondes will dress in brown clothes, sometimes to ridiculous levels, and pose and loiter around me, spinning "blonde aura" with Unfavored colors, personnel etc.

But the biggest event was the bus trip back into downtown. The bus trip began at 1700h, and ran to 1745h, but it was plenty light outside until 1730h, and yet nearly every freaking outdoor light and street light was on all the entire journey. Not to mention the phalanxes of vehicles with headlights and tailights ablaze, and It prompted the thought that perhaps I am like royalty and I should wave. Of course I didn't, but I couldn't quite get over the shear immensity of the number of lights that were on. Even extra interior lights projecting to the outside were arranged. We passed a driving range at 1705h, plenty of daylight then, and lo, if all their outside lights weren't on, high up on the poles that hold up the nets to stop balls from hitting the highway.

I am going to make it a short post today, and may roll this one into a posting covering tomorrow.

Sunday, February 14, 2010

Passive Agressive Abuses

It is Valentine's Day, a Sunday spent toiling in the daffodil fields picking them for $0.20/bunch. My output was 355 bunches, so that makes it a big $71 for some 8.5 hours. Yessir, no path to riches, and it was a very good day for flower picking. Dense rows and glorious weather. And of course, the parade of noises that seem to be arranged; aircraft, but no military aircraft today, vehicles, and a big spate of the most loathed of all, the Harley Davidson motorcycle noise. They put a parade of them on about 1530h and kept it going for 40 minutes, and had them return on the same route. A commercial helicopter came out to do a flypast, then it with a fixed wing single engine aircraft, and then the latter all by itself. Noise blending they might be doing.

There must of been at least six SAC bomber flyovers while out in the daffodil field. I thought they were never that consistent, and they vary their routing. Then the siren shows; at least five of them today, stuck out in farm country, though there is a hospital nearby, but many of them drove past the hospital for crissakes. Anyhow, I have long given up on the sirens that I see and hear to be connected to the generally agreed reality, as there are far more sirens than I experienced when I lived in Seattle, near the hsopitals on Capitol Hill.

And all day long the perps jerked me into "thinking" that this was a big production flower picking day, messing up my ability to multiply 75 bunches 4 four crates of them, and the 55 that were done by the end of the day. They had me "thinking" I made twice as much, and thinking that piece rate was OK. Not in farming anytime. I have no idea how so many others are so much faster, but they just seem to be, and there was even less finger fumbling adversity. I don't think I can take these imposed financial calculation jerkarounds any more, now two days in succession. If I had a throwaway calculator I would take it out there, but I only have a good one.

The most strangest of mornings today, the perp "passive" side that Iave rarely experienced before. They laid off all rage-ifcations and jerkarounds save once this morning. Not even making peanut butter and jam on bread was sabotaged with enragement abuses. The only time they jerked me around was in the bathroom; the shampoo wasn't allowed to come out of the bottle like it usually does, and then they hacked me for three bleed locations while doing the full frontal shave.

They laid off the finger fumbling some while daffodil picking too, also a bonus to not be permanently enraged all day, but they did keep up with the "fart in a sleeping bag" gangstalker, the Featured Fuckwit. Today it was this lanky dude in dishelled reddish hair who kept his wood handled knives somehow dangling and clattering some thing like a marimba. The Dingaling Dude he was named. And he wasn't today's Stick Gangstalker only in the field, but also in the crew bus; once sitting behind me, and then doing a exit-the-return stunt when I was boarding the bus to go back to the farm. The bus was full of pickers, but still waiting, and one seat looked free with some items left there. These items can stay there for weeks, as no one cleans the bus. The Dingaling Dude was hanging around outside the bus, doing his gangstalker thing, I board the bus, settle in and get my thermos out and pour tea. Then comes Dingaling Dude standing over me, claiming that was his stuff on the seat. If I had a free mind I would of pitched the tea in his face. Here he was outside the bus gangstalking/loitering waiting for this set up, and then timing his arrival while I had tea in my thermos mug. All to have me reach across my thermos to get his stuff, and presumably to sit where ti was. A total set up to disrupt me from having tea on the parked bus. It is fucking insane that I cannot be left alone to have something to drink after a day's work.

Yesterday's Featured Fuckwit, a skinhead male looking like he just came off chemotherapy still put in some appearences; he was in the seat in front of me, that seems to now be reserved for Unfavored demographic representatives. Yesterday it was the turban and shawl act that vacated their seats for no apparent reason, today it was yesterday's skinhead and a ponytail male.

And I am stiff and sore, worse than yesterday somehow.

But once I got back there has been at least 40 rage-ifications tonight, the worst was when they pushed me over onto the floor when I was trying to stand up after doing elastic band counts, putting 25 in a bunch and securing it with 4" of flexible wire. These would aid me in getting the right number of elastic bands when out in the field, and not having them spring about while attempting to put them on my fingers to keep them there for each flower bunch. It was hot enough that I did not need a jacket, and then I lost my pockets to keep the elastic bands in. All those details can hang on up in the middle of the field, and I don't have a warm weather solution to having enough pockets for all the supplies.

 I will call this done for now, as I will be starting bedtime early again, all to get up at 0500h and partake in the piece rate race.

Saturday, February 13, 2010

Count to Ten

Count to ten again and again all day long; ten cut daffodils to a bunch, and I cut 325 bunches and earned a whole $64 at the piece rate of $0.20/bunch. I would of been better off at minimum wage. A hell of a way to go to pay for a PC upgrade and save for my income tax. That was it, a whole day in the daffodil fields replete the now expectable helicopter passes (military Sea King twice) , at least four SAC bombers passed by (noise at least), and a host of smaller private aircraft. Then, per usual in the farming work, vehicles on the periphery of the farm were lining themselves up with their headlights and keeping them trained on me, what I call pit-lamping.

Back willing, I will keep doing it to save some dough, spend per above plans, and continue with this absurdity all week, next, and likely longer. I will attempt to get some hourly work though, rather than putting up with this. And too, the perps get to befuddle me all day as to how many boxes of 50 bunches I picked, how much I got paid per bunch, and playing on my ignorance (highly managed by them), as well as sponsoring at least a dozen rounds of getting the calculations wrong for piece rate work. And just to think, they get to do this every day I spend in this manner.

So... when I went to the LD store tonight and loaded up on Milka chocolate bars I counted ten, two more than I usually get. And it was only when the cashier dude was ringing them in, and said there was ten, was I allowed to know it was an exact replica of the amount of daffodil flowers per bunch, what I had been counting all day. Fucking hilarious, but this serves as an example of the inane and stupid games that are arranged for me, to me, and involving me.

The flower picking wasn't a bad as I had feared, but that is not to say it was any bit pleasant to be bending over all freaking day, and straddling these 14" humps of soil with the troughs being very slippery. I had decent clothing on that kept me warm, and although there was plenty of wind, there was only a occasional smattering of rain. But one could say that I got my yellow color dose for the day, so much so that they put on the dark green and white school bus instead of the yellow ones they have. This is the crew bus that picks up pickers at different locations at 0650h in the morning, and drops me off at 1800h.

And plenty of orchestrated seating arrangements on the bus; the E. Indians sitting in front of me, turban and shawl, and no one needs to tell me how much I loathe the sight of such head adornments, being of the Unfavored kind. I did some E. Indian conversation time before getting on the bus, so I assume the two seats in front and the two behind, were vacated for me and my consorts, and whatever fugly colors and headgear they wanted to bring. About halfway through the bus trip coming back, the E. Indians moved to seats near the front, presumably as some kind of brown color (skin) reference that needed to be farther away. Then the red and yellow dressed dufus sat in front of me for some two minutes before retreating behind me, where he came from. Like I some kind of stigmatized fuckee; no one sits around me, but only do "tours" for short durations. If I don't like red and yellow together, especially in the form of clothing, then I don't see why its anyone's fucking business but my own. But instead, it seems to be a matter of national security given the number of Fuckwits putting on this color combination. And no, I don't go to McDonald's to be inundated with red and yellow, never mind that horrid clown, and the food as an afterthought.

I just finished a screaming match with the sickos; they repeatedly fucked me out of spelling common words, and then hammered me again while attempting to correct the forced typos. What it takes to lead a normal life around here.

Other farming and gangstalking news of the day was the constant finger fumbling the assholes put me through, not wanting me to become competent in the new task of cutting and handling daffodil flowers. Then there was the extra-gravitic fuckery where one flower stem would slide out of the bunch, friction be damned. And as an extension to that, flower stems that would just fly out of the bunch even if frimly grasped. All to play more games to piss me off, out me off my count, and otherwise be a sabotaged in attempting to earn a meagre living. No doubt the disability thing is going to end this year, and minimum wage jobs and piece rate aren't going to do it.

Anyhow, I am tired, and won't be blogging too much these next weeks, as this kind of job is made to whack me out.

Friday, February 12, 2010

New Ventures

That is,starting tomorrow, I will be taking on more remunerative work to keep the wolf from the door and PC upgrades for running Oracle and Linux on this here PC. Plus, I always get nailed for income taxes this time of year, and if I don't have the money in hand, my line of credit will can keep me afloat, but I end up seeming to work for months before I dig myself out of this hole.

It is daffodil flower picking season here, at piece rate no less, and supposedly among a den of thieves for all the stories I have heard. Call it "how low can you go" in the employment sector. Lower than I wanted to as I had made sure to avoid this mercenary crush.This is at the same farm that I worked at for some four months last year, and I am to be readied by 0650h for a bus to take me there.

Part of the deal was to get a few items to make this more doable, one being a thermos and the other being a honing stone/device to keep my knife blade sharp. So... after researching the items on the web this morning, and at the website of the store I planned to visit, off I go for a 10 minute walk there. One would of thought it was both lunch time and tourist season for the number of Fuckwits on the street at 1310h. It seems that the perps are grooming me with hairy males and skinhead males, and that might be in preparation for tomorrow's work on the flower picking gig. I don't know how long I will last in it, but if I can go some three weeks that would be OK, we shall see. My mother hinted at doing it for a week, which might be the pre-arranged duration for whatever reason, like not getting along with invasive piece rate workers.

And of course, the weather can be a real factor in staying out and doing the job. I don't expect to make more that $9/hour, what I would get if on a wage rate, but the real keeners I met last year said one can "clean up" and make $200 in a day. Chances are some of the adversities will come to play; having me gaurd my picked flowers before tallying, shoo off invading pickers from my row and other self defensive measures to ensure the arrangement pays at least the minimum rate. The perps went to great lengths to ensure that was an average fruit picker at best last summer, so I am not expecting any bonanza. Besides, the perps make certain that my competance is under constant attack by "bad luck", and the rest of the arranged adversity that gets passes for normal, so I don't expect any wondrous compensation or savings from this adventure.

Any change to the imposed status quo, such as starting work again, will be highly gangstalked, and this afternoon's parade of freaks seemed to underline the point. Like I said, I suspect this is in part grooming me to be among the weirds, those who need to cut flower stems in bare-assed farm country in Feburary and March. Though it could translate into later work of a more sustained nature, not unlike last year when a month of daffodil bulb picking was extended into three more months of farm work. We shall see how all this unfolds and what the important perp objectives are; contact with soil, the act of cutting plants (not unlike the elevated noisestalking when pruning branches for yard maintenance), hounding me when egressing in/out of a vehicle, any brown color content (not just soil, but dead plant material), having me eat the food grown on the farm and whatever else is on the perp agenda.

And what was with the incessant vision attacks this morning when I got up at 0900h? Each time I changed tasks in making breakfast and bringing new items into my visual field, they put on more vision attacks, and making sure they were more than transitory. All to up the rage-fication and it attendant vocalization I assume. The only changes to the routine were that I started a new jar of black currant jelly to go on my peanut butter, and for them, that is exciting as starting a new loaf of bread.

Schlepping while surfing, the internet that is. A dulled out docility would be another way to put it. A classic perp fuckover for making dinner tonight. They had me all primed to make the regular quesadillas again, which neccessitated cleaning the frypan again, this time with a stainless steel scouring pad, then drying it, then putting it on the burner to warm up with some olive oil in it. The sicko aspect to that is a number of scoured metal particles went down the drain, and the frypan was resurfaced to a degree, as parallel scuffings were visible after it was cleaned. And then, to start food preparation, why, no chicken meat to add to the quesadilla, the most essential ingredient. So with the pan on, which was taken off and the olive oil removed with a paper towel, it got recleaned again and put away. So off to the loca supermarket with a driving rain squall to get chicken and the one thing I "forgot" last night, Dawn dish detergent. There was enough gangstalker freakshow players such that I didn't need to hang around, and got through an availible checkout in no time, and back out into the rain. The process is that I don't put the plastic bags away when they are wet, but leave them out. Similarly with my coat, I separate from the others so it can air dry. With the Chicken Run done, I take off the skin, replete with orange paprika spice, and eat some off the carcass. But as this is the third time this past six weeks that I have "forgotten" about the state of my my ingredients, that in particular, one can be assured I was fucking pissed with this being played again. And it seemed that the new bottle of detergent was a player in all of this, being used immediately afterward to clean the knife, fork and the cutting board. A Dawn dish detergent transition from old bottle to new one, in conjuction with a Chicken Run. Such are the interests of the perps and the insane level of detail they are continuing to work while trashing my existence.

Another round of imposed inane adversity. Earlier, I got a diamond hone to keep my knives sharp for flower cutting tomorrow and also got a lanyard through the wood handle of the knife so it can be hung from my wrist. The hole wasn't big enough so I made it bigger with the drill, and in doing so, a very unconventional split in the wood handle erupted, some 3" long. Tonight I tested the lanyard and the wood handle portion gave out. Ergo, a nightime effort to put a new hole in the wood handle, and lo, if the battery powered drill doen't lose all its juice in mid-drilling. So... a wait of an hour or so before the battery can be charged. Just another example of the anal retentive levels of insane detail the perps will go to; scheduling a job in the daytime, and then a re-work of the job in the evening and holding it up for an hour or so in mid-task.

Another running battle is with the perps is over certain software on this PC; last night I tested the DVD drive and the assholes still blocked me playing a movie I put in the drive. The dialog box came up with a missing driver. Here I have the latest Windows 7, and Windows Media Player, and I am not allowed to see a movie still. Which has been the case since 2005 when the "habit" of visiting the cinema once a week was somehow curtailed, and I haven't been allowed to see a movie since. I figured if they let me buy a few movies after Christmas on sale, then I would be allowed to see them. Not so; I must be put through more aggravation over this exercise while they continue to fuck this PC and the very straightforward act of playing a movie.

And if that wasn't stupid enough, another running battle is with Lightscribe, the DVD labeller program. It came with the new Plextor drive I got in November's rebuild, and the Lightscribe Control Panel displays, but nowhere is there access to the executable to actually run the software that labels the specially marked DVD. I went to their website and got the latest download, and still no executable to run it. I put $30 into getting a stack of DVD's, and now they sit there because not only do they not label with LIghtscribe, but the DVD drive claims it cannot copy to a DVD -R when the Plex Utilities clearly says it can. Another pissing match related to DVD's, and not the only one, and is a continuing theme from last week.

I am going to call this one done as I will be getting up very early tomorrow, and it is likely that this bloggin will suffer in frequency of postings as I will be putting in some full days over the next two weeks.

Thursday, February 11, 2010

Drilling in Ceiling

The heightened noise assault continues as I type; a burst of drilling noise overhead just erupted. That is, a 12" thick concrete floor/ceiling, and besides, it should be carpeted like all the other suites, and who needs to drill holes in their floor anyhow? Only in TI World it seems, where nothing it what it seems. Now, tapping noise has started up from above.

And it has been a busy morning for noise, even before I got up at 0800h, the tapping noise variants took their turns; slow tapping of hollow wood beams, then soild wood beams, then a generalized tapping and finally moving on to metal tapping with a ringing noise sound decay. Yessir, everything from a woodwork shop to a blacksmiths outside if one took the noises at face value. [interuption for high speed drill sound, another variant on the overhead drilling noise]. But, as mentioned many times, there is no plausible source for all these noises, never mind their timing. Some construction about a half block away, a steel-concrete building, and as a minor expert on construction noise, there are precious few wood beams to be tapping on that kind of job, never mind throughout the day, every day. So... as always, and like other Ti's experiences, it appears that these noises are fabricated from the ether in some demonic method by remotely located means. Nothing new there.

The usual pattern is to examine prior and upcoming events to see what might be so different for the sickos that they go overboard on noise inundation. What was different was using a silver grey handled razor with a black plastic colored blade insert instead of the disposable navey blue colored razors. What are the bets on black vehicles being arranged outside upon my building exit to yoga at 1110h" We shall see.

And a forced pee with another outburst of drilling noise while peeing, seeming related to the above drilling events given the subject of the shaving. Now a tapping attack from outside; this is a major moment of noise confluence as well as "self touches", the seeming prime moment for the noise eruptions.

Other action were some very strange dreams before awakening; swim meets in substandard length pools, military personnel encounters, and dialog with the ex. I swam with Master's Swim Clubs for 15 years, though I don't now, so the swimming motif is nothing new. But this is the second night in succession that they are injecting military personnel in my dreams, and where would there be any reference to that? As mentioned in past blog postings, there is a period of memory deleted years from age 2 to 5, and who knows what took place, but the perps have been highly consistent from the begining of the overt abuse in 2002 about introducing such parties into the gangstalker scene.

Back from yoga, had lunch, and a online game over screwing me over a password change, telling me after the fact that it had to be 6 to 9 characters, and then screwing me again by not letting me change it. After a phone call, replete with overhead pounding noise and outside tapping, I find out that it has to be a mixture of letters and numbers 6 to 9 long. And wouldn't you know, the usual password is x characters (within range), and then adding numbers makes it longer than 9 characters, effectively screwing me over using my regular password variations. The noise stalking going on while dealing with this fuckery, and while being on the phone (active EMF device at my ear and mouth), tells me that this whole fucking stupidity over passwords is a big deal. The assholes are extra active whenever I put in my password for debit cards, so it isn't too much of a stretch to figure out what is going on, this time aided in some way (it would seem) by yoga stretches beforehand. They cannot get enough spinal stretches around me anytime I am out.

More overhead pounding as I print and write out the new password. Never was the truncation of one digit ever so important to so many with so little acknowledged presence. Just another window into the insane levels of minutiae the sickos go through, putting me and every thought and event through a microscope for their own ends, whatever that is. One digit less in a usual password variant sends them into raptures of overhead pounding and outside metal bashing, (new tapping noise variant), along with this functional decomposition. Thursdays, yoga days that is, are begining to rival Mondays for extra perp activity, along with the getting stupider rubric.

One hour later, still the tapping noise cacaphony in all its variation (tapping of wood, metals, etc.). Now the power saw noise has erupted as I type this, possibly because the perps seem to have this noise pegged in that I have used them in the past, and have been subject to one chainsaw stalking event, where the Fuckit came from an empty lot, crossed the street some 100' ahead of me, placed the chainsaw in mid-field, and then retraced his steps back to the empty lot. By the time I got to see into this lot, about a minute later, there was no one there. I posted pictures of this chainsaw in midfileld, nowhere near a tree or any supporting landscaping activity, and it remains one of the all time dumbshit events that I have witnessed in the past 7.5 years of overt harassment. Now the siren noises are chiming in, adding to the noisescape as they carefully grow it with known and long running noise types.

Still on the noise front, a jackhammering job has started up outside, not far away. This might have the advantage of supplying noise along with digging up concrete that I may have walked on. As mentioned in past blog postings, the perps have obsessions as to where I walk, and with concrete as a substance, hounding me with redi-mix trucks as one example. On with the noise show, and leading up to having a midafternoon tea and chocolate feed.

The post tea and chocolate room dimming is coming upon me, with tapping noises near nonstop, and a re emulating noises/overhead floor knockings overhead.

And I see they delivered a blue dumpster in the street outside on the wrong side of the road and in the bus stop. The inanity never ends.

I don't know what it is about dimming daylight conditions that makes the perps go beserk, but it is a near given, especially with brown colored stomach contents.

The FBI orders pizza while at a psychiatric hospital, not knowing they were taped. A little levity in this all too grim existence. Thanks to 9-11, Mother of All Black Operations for this one.

The mid afternoon dinginess has started along with outside clanging and hallway voices passing by. Time to do the lights on schtick again.

More PC sabotage earlier tonight when at my Oracle DBA course; the taskbar at the bottom didn't show the minimized tasks, they just went poof, gone. I asked the instructor about it and he said he didn't know how to alter the task bar in Linux, and said my PC had "spooks on it". Thats a given, but making light of this desperate plight of total potential sabotage, software, hardware and any object or activity of any kind, it isn't funny. So..., I had to keep all the PC open windows in play, but fortunely RH Linux has an upper right hand icon command of minimizing the open window to make it smaller and not full screen. Or at least, it had that command for me tonight. And constant password sabotage every time I try log in as "SYS" the database's highest authority when I had reset it two classes ago and had tested it.

I had my usual coterie of Fuckwits around me, having just eaten a sausage I cooked up only 30 minutes prior to setting off. This was cooked by using the new (01-2010) and unused glass potlid over top of the three sausages cooking together to prevent spatter from flying all over. Don't ask me how I cooked the last sausages as I didn't have the spatter problem, nor did I have a potlid on hand. As cooking sausages is a once per year event, it would be unlikely I would recall the details, never mind the constant cognitive and recall sabotage that passes for "normal" now.

I was wrong about the black ganstalkers on the way and back from yoga; the emphasis was on red colored clothing and vehicles, though with black as part of the color scheme for clothing at least. Ditto for tonight; black and red dressed gangstalkers, and one Fuckwit who tailed me for a whole block at my usual breakneck walking speed wearing a black leather jacket over a black and red checkered shirt. The perps are also pumped for keeping me talking while on the bus. A Korean student wanted to practice his English on me when on the outbound trip, and likely too, to distract me from obseving the E. Indian one stop bus trip nonsense that was on again. (An elderly E. Indian couple gets on for a one bus stop duration trip when they could of easily walked it, every time since 01-21-2010 when I started the evening course, each Tuesday and Thursday).

Then when inbound after class, one of my class mates was on the bus and I talked to him for some 10 minutes or so before he departed, while my black and white and camo dressed Fuckwit crowd was all around me.

More overhead floor/ceiling knockings concurrently with bus whine noise from outside, just as I read the links above. Which explains the name dropping that goies on all the time, as it seems there is something pyschically intrinsic about them, or anyones's name for that matter, that the sickos want to detect by having me under the neural energy microscope all the time.

Enough nattering, and I am calling this one done for the day.