Thursday, March 31, 2011

Job Prospecting Day 2

I got out earlier to deposit a $50 check, and do the two block gangstalk gauntlet to the downtown ATM. A full-on freakshow with added sidewalk obstructions that in one instance, were in place outbound and inbound, some 5 minutes apart. Why seeming rational beings plant themselves to constrict an already constricted 60' section of sidewalk (construction scaffolding) I don't know. I have never seen such rude public behavior in this once over-polite town. Then the negro babe who flicked her arm out 6' in front of me, pretending to attend to her scarf in this same section was another case of public rudeness IMHO, as I hadn't seen anything like it anywhere, for all the places I have been to, including NYC. But as this scaffolded section was also floored with plywood, and the perps have a long standing history of presenting plywood panels to me, I suppose it is all connected somehow. That I care should be clear by now; I don't. Just leave me the fuck alone.

But that wasn't to be, as there was another odd male, 55 or older, who seen oncoming then lined me up, stepped aside to miss someone else coming at me, licked a finger, and then comes at me offering me a 4"x6" piece of white paper that was totally blank. Like WTF; not even the proselytizing cover story, just a blatant "paper stalk" as I call them now; gangstalkers walking around with paper in this eruption of paper packing that struck this town about four years ago in my proximity at least. I suspect that the paper was some kind of color/material reference after passing under the construction scaffolding, leaqding to a covered portion of the sidewalk from a building structure into a directly sunlit portion. The perps seem to have some kind of obsessive need to tail me where the light changes, from direct sun, to shade and vice versa.

And at this same covered location, the vagrant scum were on the job, obstructing the sidewalk with their act, pretending to be engaged with each other but commanding the full 8' of sidewalk. Some 4' of which was already constricted by outdoor tables, and then these two (only one of them there when outbound) are paired but separated, but not enough to walk between them. Who would, as one of them was disgusting personified; obese, shoulder length frizzy unkempt hair, and seeming at a loose end, like he was ready to turn toward me. Gruesome it was, though I am sure many other TI's get worse from the vagrant section of the gangstalker menu.

And more obvious R. side passing too; an Asian woman makes a point to come straight at me some 15' ahead, and when some 6' ahead she pulls to my R where a wider section was created by a store front, and then pointedly passes me on my R side to then go around me and then returns to her track which was exactly where I was. I thought she was going to the store front door, the typical excuse for the gangstalkers to pointedly cross my path, but no, she crossed back on top of where I was walking. Here we are in N. America, R hand drive, meaning we proceed forward on the R side of the sidewalk, road etc. Then once the harassment starts in 2002, I get these "straight at me" R hand pedestrians/gangstalkers, and now in unrepentant profusion. More public rudeness, and most un-Asian behavior in my experience. I have travelled to the UK, where it is L hand drive, and that includes pedestrians too, and for the first few days it is confusing and one ends up in these almost sidewalk "head-ons", but the number of Fuckwits that make a point to run in LH drive to cross in front of me and walk in my track as much as they possibly can far exceeds the short term LH drive adaptations that one goes through when visiting the UK.

And that was a two block walk at 0940h before the stores open at 1000h, quite the profusion of gangstalkers to say the least when typically there is less than half the number at that time of day. But given the recent escalation of vehicular traffic at 0640h when walking three blocks to take the the crew bus for daffodil picking, in their color and size coordinated clusters, it would seem that the perps are not needing any excuses of normality anymore. Also note that it was this same walk to the crew bus at the same time in summer of 2008 when this same six lane arterial (Blanshard and Pandora for locals) was devoid of all traffic so one of my former work colleagues could drive on the wrong side of the road, coming toward me (crossing three lanes), and then veer back onto the R side of the road. If the perps can arrange an absence of traffic to make this bizarre stunt safe for the shill/former colleague, then of course they can overpopulate it with vehicular traffic too, never mind the time of day. And I realize some large cities have bumper to  bumper traffic at that time of the morning, but this isn't the case for this government town gone wrong.

A round of sending off job applications today, but still getting screwed for one that closed today, and "somehow" not seeing it in the very organized list I had from yesterday, even with the closing date in the line of the bookmark. And when did I get to find out; why, at 1705h when it closed at 1630h. But at least I got a number of the job applications sent, still walking the line between the IT data analyst, the horticultural/farm worker and the forestry technician. Perverse to be sure, the second mentioned career being one that has developed under the perp's insane reign, and keeps me in the low income category. Last year there were these "watershed operator" jobs for which I had ample experience for all of what they were looking for, and I didn't get a phone call. This year I see there are four more, but at $22/hour, I don't think the perps will let me have that gig. Farm work seems to pay a standard $9.28/hour, even if they were paying $10/hour last year at some farms. Besides, where but farm work does one find such a high turnover freakshow?

And I note that the five or so forestry jobs that I had bookmarked to send resumes to somehow didn't "happen", having a motivational lapse for some reason. And why would I decline for a $23/hour job? No  reason but blatant jerkarounds. The IT job scene interests me, but again, I am getting demotivated for some uncharacteristic reason, and haven't picked up any of my Oracle books from last year, nor the UML book I so "needed" in the fall. I just don't know where this one is going. The viticulture farm work aspirations seemed to have also fallen flat, or at least, all those that require relocation to the Okanagan where it is hotter and more grape varieties. They even had me looking up the Credentialed Viticulture Worker training yesterday, though it would take place in the fall. The local vineyards have never responded to my applications, even if I indicate that I was an amateur winemaker that won a category at a province-wide competition. And of course I am getting FUD-ed on this one too; do I need a vehicle, where would I stay and the rest of it? Never mind the fact when I start a new job someone is on my ass for quality issues, and then I later find that everyone else is picking lesser quality. Same deal with the daffodils this year; one seeming newbie forewoman (wasn't there in Febuary, but was in mid-March) was on my ass about longer flowers, and then no yellow bud break (which turned out to be BS as I later learned that three bud breaks per bunch were acceptable), and other niggling quality aspects that didn't amount to a hill of beans. She was constantly on my ass for the first few days, and then suddenly reverts to saying that I am picking "beautiful flowers" more than once. I was hard pressed to understand how mine would be any more "beautiful" than anyone else's, and she didn't explain that very well. All these fucking games. Same last year when potato picking; too small, then not small enough, and no one would state in frigging numbers if it was an inch, 3/4 inch or whatever, this constant avoidance over a measurable specification was totally ludicrous.

It is interesting the foreman, who seems to be one of the rare males that I would accord the adjective "cool" (versatile, interesting, many talented, and grounded) is going to do a house build in the Okanagan region of this province after the daffodil picking ended, so maybe this remotely invoked viticulture interest has more dimensions, as does the entire wine making, grape growing, and wine tasting spectrum. Some of which, as mentioned, has been a long standing hobby of over 25 years until the financial sandbagging when with the ex that began in 1997.

Then the relentless planted ideations over what might be related to what, when in this situation of total FUD, nothing whatsoever is necessarily related to anything. As an example, I have plainly obvious chocolate crumbs flying in from nowhere onto my dessert plate, which are not falling off the chocolate I have in hand nor the remainder on the plate. So if I have a sudden "need" to spend $200 to get my nice five pairs of pants altered to fit, ones that I haven't worn in over nine years as this gig has nearly always been a jeans deal, that does not mean that an IT office job is nigh. And yet I get ideations and future notions planted on me, suggesting that this is related. But as the perps are notorious liars in keeping with the FUD agenda, and that I am the last person to know what my next vocational gig is, and am faced with three, (or four, counting the oil and gas job obsession that erupted three years ago, despite no prior experience), largely unreconcilable vocational avenues, the only recourse is to adopt the principle that nothing is related to anything unless witnessed or proven.

Even my mother is in on the vocational prospects chicanery, saying that an IT job "this fall" this time last year which did not come close to materializing. It was interesting at the time, as it was an obvious gimme statement, but she really had no idea as to what she was talking about, not having any conceptual understanding of this vocational realm, significant as it is. And also, she never asks me about it, not even wanting to know even the basics of what it all entails and the various players and their roles. I got another (FUD caveat) clue from her this fall, when she said something to the effect of maybe computer work isn't likely. Well maybe not, and perhaps those never-worn kevlar toed safety boots I purchased in the fall of 2008 when construction work looked promising after the end of the daffodil bulb work, have a purpose for somewhere else. Back then, I did not get my phone calls returned, and no work of any kind, and so the boots still sit there over two years later, possibly waiting for the next vocational gig or maybe the perps want to have new, but not worn footwear around me, given their insane obsessional fetish over my footwear, insoles, shoelaces, sole condition and rubber compound type, and as mentioned, everywhere I step.

Enough of the dreary theme looping, and onto blogging off, and maybe getting out tomorrow.

Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Job Prospecting

An entire afternoon of bookmarking job prospects, doing the multi-career thing with farm work, IT and forestry dominating. The oil and gas industry entry level jobs don't look very do-able in terms of finding the job ads, never mind the logistics of getting there, getting around and living somewhere remote. Even the farmworker jobs where the holding is dispersed in many areas, don't exactly explain how one is to travel from job site to job site for the same employer, all at $9.28/hour, the going rate for the peasanos. There is no way one can run a vehicle and have a place at that pay rate unless getting 60 to 80 hours per week regularly.

Once bookmarked as Job Prospects, I go over them and craft a resume and cover letter for each, and then send them via email. Past experience has been a 1% response rate not including auto-responding email. That is when I have experience, as it seems that is the biggest deal breaker. Even the coal miner jobs are looking for 3 years experience. Who knows what I really get to see at this end of the constrained and orchestrated web access. There have been plenty, like every second, maser and plasma beams on-screen and even arranged in banded parallel striations of the same thickness of web page vertical lines. All in keeping with the goings on/harassment of course, and noisestalking when I bookmark a web page. Other nonsense has been to slowly and progressively decrease the size of the font as I go back to a web page, finding it smaller after looking at a link.

A new planted theme, and that is Network Area Server, NAS for short. IT is a PC that would act as both a central storage for other PC and devices, as well as backup for them all.  And at the moment of looking into build or buy, a sudden need to pee came on, at least the 12th time today, so these forced pisses are getting much more specific as to the prior content I am exposed to. A NAS is one of these on-off "concerns" that got bigger because I ripped some 37 Gb of music to this PC a month ago, and of course I don't want it wiped out. For now, it is replicated on a hard drive by a script that runs every day. And the perps have me cranked up to purchase one the first decent paycheck I get, their planted theme getting more priority it seems. Except that farm work pays low, and it is likely it will have to pay the whole shot if this disability gig gets yanked on me, like I suspect it will this year. I earned too much, the grant for the Oracle courses being a big part of my extra earnings, so I am sure to come up on the inspection radar. I predicted it last year, but was wrong, so we shall see.

The job submissions stalled out after all the bookmarkings. It seems the perps wanted me to organize the bookmarks in my Firefox Library, putting separating lines between the local, out-of-town farm work, IT and the forestry job bookmarks. Once that was done, why, a forced pee again. Exciting moments for perps are in the smallest of things; even crossing the floor from kitchen to desk, all of 8', I routinely get noisestalked, plasma flashed, or even riled up to vocalize while in mid-stride.

Earlier, I got a call from the so-called mental health person asking about my request to take yoga at some center now that the local yoga has shut down. I got one too many of the denial blandishments "oh right", so I ripped into her and asked her some pointed questions as to why two doctors say I am being harassed and it is not a clinical problem. That shut her up, so no doubt this was all scripted in the first place to get me riled up on the phone (= EMF intrusion), so this will likely play out in some way, the catch-all that it be "recorded on my chart". And at the moment I realized I was getting cranked up over this, the dresser that is 4' away put on a big creaking noise all by itself. So it seems the perps need to rile me up to get more neural circuits working, though too, those that can see auras say that annoyed subjects have larger auras, trailing some 60' or so.

A dull shut-in day with the exception of doing some laundry first thing (30' down the hallway), though without the usual "need" to then do cleaning concurrently. And even more odd, was that all garments and items went from washing machine to dryer, none were taken out from the washing machine and hung dry, the way that laundry has "happened" every time for at least the last two years, save bedsheets loads. Another exciting perp moment maybe, through-testing a full load of my laundry without interim washing machine samples. It gets complicated for the perps, keeping track of all these nuances and variations, though I am sure they are up to the task, and are still having me do things ass-backwards that I would never logically do on my own, unfettered and unfucked with; e.g. opening a cupboard when it was to be a drawer etc.

Plenty of plasma flashes today, especially onscreen, and even on the wall that I face when having lunch or tea-break. They had the stainless steel basket of the glass Bodum teapot changed as if it had been heated to much higher temperatures, giving the steel a green and pink color today. And lo, if there wasn't pink and green intermingled spots on the wall while having tea some five minutes later. They have changed the color of the stainless steel to be bluish, purplish, and pink at differing times, so I suppose too this is another line of color games. I can only surmise that they are attempting to determine if the color energies of the stainless steel insert basket where the teabag sat until removed, and presumably  transferred to the tea, can somehow be detected in me, or through my eyes, when they flash the plasma beams on the wall. (And with some of the tea in me by then). Just too complicated, and still no reason from them as to why they put me through this ongoing abusive hell for over nine years because they lack the gumption to show up and declare themselves. It gets stupider and stupider with each passing day.

I am also getting plenty of pink color testing through the web sites I visit; very often the Caucasian skin tones are manipulated to be overly pink, and it seems too this might be another Unfavored color category of particular interest to the sickos. Especially if they applied sexual abuse during the years they wiped my recall out, aged 2 to 5, and living in Montreal (16 months, of two academic term lengths, 1956-7 and 1958-59), northern BC (two summer months) and Victoria BC then. Another obvious male feigned crotch-grabbing episode at the checkout in the LD store yesterday reminded me of what they might have been up to at one time, and are now attempting to determine and then remediate the associated subconcsious traumatizations. As I have said before; I don't need any uninvited remediation by any party; I had a career in IT and got jerked from it by insane assholes who started out by invading my apartment, and kept up this abusive insanity ever since.

So that is all the blogging for today, dull as it has been. And for a Wednesday weekday, an excess of noisy motorcycles outside today, some 12 independent events this afternoon, and when I looked outside to see if they were real motorcycles, and not just projected noise, only once of the three times were
they for real. Life in the FUD-stream.

Tuesday, March 29, 2011

Online and On With the Overhead Noise

Back to the futility of online job applications, plus a phone call too. I am split at least three ways on the vocational front this time; former forestry work, former IT work, and continuing with the farming and horticulture work, where I have had the most recent experience. And of course, a high perp interest, replete with many (over six) STRATCOM overflights, other aircraft noise, progressively fainter neighbor noise (when in suburbia at the First Feral Family residence), an inordinant amount of drivebys if out front, and other "regular" noise like sirens, heavy duty vehicles and the like.

Yesterday it was dandelion plucking on the front boulevard that got the perps cranked up; as I grasped the plant after raising with the garden fork noise would go off, then again when pulling on the 12" tap root and again when tossing it in the wheelbarrow. Exciting moments in perpland indeed. Just leave me out of it, as I have no idea why I am being so mercilessly hounded and abused.

Part of the arrangements were a doctor visit, just the polite banter, and too, to increase the number of yellow vehicles passing by outsde his office. DHL and their fugly yellow and red livery, the local fire department was there in their yellow and white trucks and probably others that I missed, as I don't make a point of looking past the doctor to check out the vehicular gangstalking scene. Just plain bad practice in those circumstances.

Interestingly though, there wasn't the major freakshow in the waiting area, and I had just got started into reading when I got called in early no less. The usual scene is to keep me seated on the copper colored seats and have a few advance freaks and then populate the majority of them around me, as well as having a parade of fat staff going back and forth. Well, it wasn't as dynamic this time, as only one other supposed patient, some stoner looking case, and then the fat negro receptionist who was back again after an extended absence, maybe due to perp arrangements even, as they will pull an Unfavored person from circulation if they deem needed. And don't ask me as to their strategy, as I have seen both; continous freak immersion and then the alternate tentative peekaboo exposures that get suddenly withdrawn in short order.

And as I get routinely gangstalked with copper colored vehicles as the "featured" color after a warm-up of greyscale colored vehicles and then red ones, it does not strike me as too odd that the above mentioned waiting room has copper colored fabric on the seats. They placed the burgundy or brown seats in 2004, which were new at the time, and about early 2009 they replaced them with these copper colored ones.

And it was another no consquence doctor's appointment, having me go on about daffodil picking, computer use iPhones and lo, if he didn't have one and bring it out. Having me sound like an expert when I am not is another clear example of perp management, as I don't put my foot in my mouth, and lo, if doesn't suddenly erupt.

No victim tourists this time at the doctor's office like for the last four or five consults; a medical student, a staff researcher, a clinical staff member and so it goes. At least the females were cute, even if they did fidget too much. That must me another Unfavored trait, fidgeting, as I have seen the Fuckwits do their back and forth pacing downtown for no need and found it highly irritating. Again, because I am so tightly controlled and contained, I don't know if this reaction was my own or theirs being planted on me. It seems I never had this problem before, and now that fidgiting has erupted I also find it annoying.

And overhead pounding and scraping, as if the floor was smooth when it should be carpeted like this one. Though it is not unusual, as past apartment residences had carpeted floors and I get overhead pouning noise as if the floor was smooth. Funny how that happens, upstairs neighbours getting smooth flooors when my apartment residence is carpeted. This was a "warm up" before tea and chocolate it seemed, and this noise combination also occured then too, an died off in a three minutes or so.

But I did get back into applying for jobs online again, something that somehow got missed for three weeks as I was too bushed from the daily daffodil picking. I did three last night over the course of yesterday and then lapsing into early today, and then going to bed. It seems that sleep is a big moment for the perps as it might represent more brain accesse and lower energy.

But it was interesting to phone and speak with a prospective employer today, this one about vineyard pruning. His, and most posting say no experience and say nothing about having a vehicle and yet these were two questions he asked me straight off. Even say one has to have a vehicle to get round to all the differing vineyard sites. Like WTF; there is a provision for this condition in the Job Bank (federal job board) and it remains unstated, along with the experience category. But at least the call was pleasant and I learned a few things, even if there is little I can do about it. And so it seems that I will not be doing vineyard pruning this year, or even having a wine country gig for eight to ten months, as they have already begun pruning. So... what to do while being kept vehicle-less, as it seems the perps don't want me owning one, let alone driving one on a regular basis.

And if the last two years are a guide, the perps will have me picking red fruit again; strawberries and then raspberries. It seemed to be a big deal in 2009 especially, and then they cut the season short for me, and then similarly last year, though allowing the season to be longer, lasting until the end of July. Then I went into daffodil bulb picking and lo, if three of my farm work pals didn't follow me there too.

And a round of pernicious sabotage that was extenuated yesterday. About a week ago I remarked on my foul weater rain pants of two year's age that suddenly developed a break in the fabric at the side of the knees and leaked water into them and on me when daffodil picking. So... I get a new pair, same model and make, and lo, if they didn't mysteriously leak at the same location but without any evident fabric tears or wear. Like WTF, a new foul weather garment leaks at the exact locations (bothe knees) as the accelerated worn ones. I cleaned them up a few days ago, after suffering a mashed paper mess in the washing machine, and finally get they dry to take back to the store where they were purchased from, and when I get back to my place I find the reciept has been stolen off my desk. And I know it was there as I had to fish it out of the garbage after the screaming rage abuse show after getting fucked out of posting my expenses in Quicken, getting jerked with a near three month backlog. I found it in the garbage, after somehow missing the handwritten "keep" on it in the first round of looking, and put the reciept on my desk Sunday, thinking it was the best place for it, as I had yet to retrieve the cleaned garment from my perp abetting mother's place. I got back yesterday and the reciept was totally gone from my desk. So what is the fucking point of this insane juvenile prank on top of an earlier juvenile prank (putting holes in my new rainpants)? The perps are utterly fucking beserk and deranged.

A trip to the LD store, not the least of which was to replace this wretched Crest mouthwash purchased last week, and extenuated on at least three prior shopping trips since then due to forced "forgets". (Or else no product but the Crest). This stuff is colorless, no dyes they say (good), but tastes totally vile as they have added sugar in it for crissakes. I assume these are non-fermentable sugars, but talk about doing the assinine thing instead of the right thing, and not promote any more sweet tooth craving among the general populace. I was glad the LD store finally got back the Oral B, as they had purged it last time to set me up for that wretched Crest mouthwash.

And so I was compelled to purchase another watch, the third in six months, all started with the four year old Casio got trashed somehow with its water seal broken, then managed to be left in a pocket to go through the washing machine and then get totally trashed. So... a purchase of a Casio with an analog and a digital face, and lo, if the analog watch wasn't losing four minutes a week, an intolerable situation given how often I get screwed out of getting to locations on time. And it was totally different from its predecessor as to setting the time, or else I was getting totally befuddled by remote invocation, and I could not reset the digital section to daylight savings time. Then the on-hour chime started ringing and I still cannot fix that yet, so enough. Yet another new watch tonight. I looked them over with the sales dude, someone I have seen before somewhere (like, why do they always have creepy males at the LD store?), and ensured I got this Timex feature that shows the commands to set the time on the watch. Brilliant. And when looking for another less chunky watch, the prospective one was put aside for only 20 seconds or so, and lo, when it was picked up again, why, it had an orange dayglo price tag on it that had $20 off! The dayglo price tag was not there when the watch was put aside, and when picked up it was there.

Off to the checkout, the one next to the exit/entrance where the dude flush comes in, and then the young blonde bag cashier rings in the watch without the sale price which was totally obvious as it was hanging there in full view and its price tag only partially adhering. Like WTF; no one could of missed it, and somehow the cashier did. I ask if she got the sale price and she looks it up, reverses the transaction, rescans it and puts the price in and then the cash register locks up. Then she calls the store lug over to then stand across from me behind the checkout counter who then unlocks the mechanism that locked up. Neither communicated much with the other to convey what was going on, so this whole deal seemed totally rehearsed, not to mention not getting an answer from the cashier in the first place. So this whole epsisode was to yet again hold me up at a checkout while the Fuckwits put on the swarming dudes and lined themselves up at the ATM that was 7' away, stringing a line of three between me and the exit doors 5' further. The insane perps cannot hold me up enough at a checkout it seems. What is the perp's problem, as they have been beating on me for close to nine years of this insane deranged abuse, stalking me at checkouts ever since they went overt/beserk 04-15-2002, the Day of Abusive Infamy.

Music listening tonight; normally, in the confined sense I have come to know, I get full songs on Myspace, and now suddenly, samples only, with an implied threat from a pop-up that I should sign up. That was the excuse the perps used to cut the color intensity by half, and I couldn't rid this fogged image of the Myspace page. It is something the perps like to do more of  when online, knock out the color intensity to fog it up, presenting the same image with a heavy gauze look. Ditto for my glasses; spotting a scuff on each lens every evening, this time catching me before I set off to the LD store, per above events.

Enough dull stuff, and time to blog off into whatever is on script tomorrow.

Monday, March 28, 2011

Short One

A short post today, as I will be returning to the pattern of visiting the First Feral Family, staying there, and coming back Monday. Later in the day, as I have a 1530h doctor appointment, doubtless with another "medical student" to add some variety, if not, other racial reference. The doctor is E. Indian, and so it would seem the perps need to add Favoreds (attractive younger women) into the mix, and then attempt to extrapolate this to having males as the seeming "student". As always, things can change, and they surely do, especially with the copper colored seating in the waiting area, something they didn't need to change out as the brown and burgundy seating was installed there in 2005 or so. Part of the deal in the waiting room is the freaks and wierds they parade around me, and they do have a excuse, being inside a hospital. Not to mention a train of obese (seeming) female staff members also erupting sometimes when on these over-extended waits.

But an new TI blog to note; a single mom holding fort in Texas and getting hacked among other things. I don't know the person, but thankfully they don't get this level of abusive nonstop insanity that I get. The blog title reads Organized Crime, though I did pick this up from an Organized Stalking/Harassment forum.

Saturday, March 26, 2011

Abusive Accounting

A major and sustained screaming response to the assholes finally allowing me to do my accounting for 2011, and then they kept hammering me over keystroke entry to the point it was a totally useless exercise. Ergo, three months of financial transactions get tossed. I am totally fucking  pissed over this as I keep all these records in the infernal Quicken application, another case of ergonomic sabotage itself, and now the assholes won't allow me to keep financial records. Some people get to do these every day, but the assholes won't allow this, it has to be once a month. When I finally got the Quicken 2010 update in 10-2010, and was allowed to import the records from the bank, the assholes decided it was too easy, and then sabotaged Quicken to screw it up as of 010-01-2011. No amount of supposed "support" from Intuit would allow this to get fixed, and so it was the asshole's Happy New Year gift to me, crippled Quicken 2010.

But that wasn't enough, no sir, they had to demotivate me into not doing the month end accounting for January, then Febuary, and now March. Then while attempting to manual entry today, as the download option wasn't working anymore, they go fuck me again making this exercise impossible to complete. As I said, I am totally and extremely pissed that I am not allowed to keep my own financial records, and will likely remain totally pissed (or pissed off as they say in Canada) for the rest of the day. And if the fuckers would let me drive a knife into my wrists I would of done it long ago, but a mysterious force field stops the knife. I gave up on that solution years ago.

Still full rage screaming to the sabotage; the assholes put me in full screen browser mode and I have no idea how to get out of it thanks to Windows being such a piece of shit, and had to get Task Manager to close it down. Then the assholes now have the tabs come up in red colored font when the browser first boots up with saved tabs, and I have no idea how to get out of that imposition either, except to click on them and get the normal black colored text back in the tab.

Music listening allowed tonight. Plus background nattering voices that can bypass my headphones. Here is one for TI's; What's Following Me? by Eleanor McEvoy, and nothing to do with the TI experience except for the album title name, being a diversion only.

A brutal day, with more rage-fication games going down, and I remain resolutely pissed (off).

Friday, March 25, 2011

The Favored and the Unfavored; a categorized rewrite

I am rewriting this to be more inclusive, and to not only cover demographic groups, but inanimate objects, conditions and properties too.

Originally, in 12-2007 I wrote:
This is intended to be a "trophy" posting; one that details an area of current perp operations intensity and is to be placed in my Essential Introductory Postings at the right as a reference rather than journalling the details of today's slings and arrows.

This blog posting is cobbled together from past postings, but is a more focussed treatise on the peculiar traits of the perps that are designed to present specific situations to trigger my liking, or disliking aka the Favored and Unfavored; objects, beings, demographic groups, colors, noise, situations, personalities, behaviors and whatever else that can be categorized in that manner. Until the preponderance of these staged situations became apparent, I was not consciously aware of most of these dislikes. The perps now regulate my reactions to the Unfavored, and have been escalating them to aid in their own mendacious objectives.
This is an better categorized list of demographic populations, personal features, behaviors, circumstances, properties and objects that the perps ensure I get maximal exposure to by arranging the gangstalkers and/or physical scenarios in which I am contained. Originally, this list was confined to demographic groups, though in fact it was always more than just that.

Demographic Groups/Personal Features
  • young blonde women, 
  • attractive women,
  • deep shiny black hair (women),
  • big round "doe" eyes (women),
  • straight hair,
  • chiselled cheekbones, proportionate but angular faces with full (but not oversized) chin and jawline
  • UK accents, particularly Scottish ones, though German ones have been planted in my proximity but without any apparent perturbing reaction,
  • red hair, white hair, skin heads (males, shaven pate), curly or frizzy hair (either gender),
  • puffy, jowly faces, e.g. Carl Rove like
  • tattoos of any kind on anyone anywhere
  • bald heads, any, though mostly on males
  • dreadlocks, surely the most apt named hair-do (aka hurl-do),
  • males with ponytails or long hair, or any degree of face masking beards and mustaches,
  • biker look in all facets, as well as motorcycles, especially from the 1950's era,
  • vagrants and other unkempt individuals,
  • shiftless and/or loitering individuals of no apparent purpose or activity engagement, usually males, though the odd geriatric has been planted in this scenario to the same over obvious effect,
  • geriatrics, and any associated typical behaviors, comportment, gait, voice tone etc., as well as associated objects, e.g. canes, walkers, etc.
  • chinless (recessed chin) individuals,
  • stooped shoulders,
  • obesity,
  • individuals of races of varying brown skin tone which really includes everyone but Caucasians; even greenish toned Caucasian dialysis patients have been placed in my proximity to some perturbing effect,
  • handicapped individuals (including wheelchairs and any other medical equipment or devices).
  • thoughtful, perceptive and analytical thinkers (presented in writing, radio, televison or in person), male or female, and additionally, where warranted in the context, who exhibit
  • fair minded and merit based decisiveness,
  • competence, individually or organizationally
  • accomplishment minded
  • arrogant, high handed, self-righteous obdurate zealots,
  • aggressives, belligerents, loudspoken types,and bullshitters (males typically),
  • decietful, slimy duplicity,
  • ineptitude, especially a repeated history of it, and not learning from mistakes or prior experience
  • slobs and slovenliness
  • grovelling like body language, e.g. obsequious toadies, sycophants
  • strangely behaved individuals, (especially the mentally disturbed),
  • individuals who dither about, are inept, won't or cannot make a decision or otherwise ditz around, fuck up or are incompetent
  • personal space incursions and also
  • groping hands and fingers coming at me.
    Colors and Combinations

    • light (sky) blue, 
    • mid grey, 
    • French and steel blue colors
    • reds of nearly all kinds, especially carmine red, a more pinkish toned red,
    • oranges, especially bright toned orange,
    • yellows,
    • combinations of red and yellow together; most loathesome
    • white clothing (especially loose baggy pants),
    • color clashing clothing, reds and oranges especially, reds and yellows,
    • brown colored anything, 
    • pastel hospital green
    I don't seem to have a particular clothing style/pattern that I can identify for sure (save plunging necklines and high skirts, ahem), though anything more feminine in general.

    • men's suits, sports jackets, ties, formal clothing
    • round priest collars
    • hoodies
    • uniforms
    • face masking objects; sunglasses, eyeglasses, masks, Islamic face covering garb, breathing masks, e.g. anesthetic treatment,
    • head adornments of any kind, from kerchiefs to do-rags, turbans or tight clinical caps, skull caps etc.,
    • hats worn by gangstalkers, from berets to wide brimmed hats, especially on males, which might pertain to
    • military or like clothing or accouterments,
    • order, organized, efficiency
    • explicit and unequivocal roles
    • chaos, especially senseless or purposelessness
    • clutter and messes
    • near random assignment and chaotic organizational activity, e.g. classic "clusterfuck"
    • anything of a clean and lean aesthetic look, e.g. Audis A6, A8 and TT, Nissan Altima, VW Jetta until 2007, certain Volvos; 245, 850, V70 pre-2002., but this also applies to all art and industrial design.
    •  single story architecture especially full height glass walls and sited among trees and foliage
    • vehicle features of blacked-in/tinted windows, black vehicles and blacked-in wheels
    • kludged, bodged or jerry-built design or construction,
    • medical materiel, especially syringes, surgical devices and implements
    • wheelchairs and other mobility assistance devices
    • motorcycles, both sight or noise
    • sinuous, serpentine shapes and/or movement.

    The above Favored and Unfavored demographic group members are being constantly arranged, presented and introduced everywhere I go in public or even predominantly arranged on web pages that I encounter. A common method of the perps is to have a blonde woman gangstalker (Favored) pass by, especially at a new venue, and then later introduce combinations of individuals or objects (garment colors), or even both together, with both Favored and Unfavored aspects. As the lastmost tier of introduced beings and objects on an outing, the perps will arrange gangstalkers/freaks that are entirely Unfavored, say, a chinless male vagrant with stooped shoulders and white hair in white pants, (six Unfavoreds).

    One common combination of Favored and Unfavored is a blonde woman (Favored) wearing brown (Unfavored), or even a two tone brown garment or suit, sometimes to the point of absurd by overdoing it. My gym class seems to be in a rotation to bring in various Favored and Unfavored individuals in combinations and testing them in my proximity for longer than a street encounter would. An example playing in my gym class are three blonde women who are all obese to varying degrees aligned together, side by side. The vilest example in the gym class to date (12-2007) of mixing of Favored and Unfavored characteristics is a slim young blonde woman in the class who has a terribly recessed chin and has partially dyed her hair green. She showed up once and has now been pulled (to 10-03-2008 so far).

    An variation of the Favored demographic group membership has been for the perps to stage gangstalkers who resemble people who I admire; there was a Helen Mirren lookalike in the grocery store last week, and and a few days before that, a Richard Branson lookalike replete with white hair posing in my apartment lobby.

    It would seem that the perps are attempting to elicit deep neural (subconscious) reactions to the above listed beings/personalities/items/colors, and are attempting to leverage the Favored to evaluate the Unfavored in some way. I call this "auric goodness co-option" or "bathing in the auric penumbra (shadow)"; where an Favored demographic group member is often engaged in conversation with me, say a gym class coordinator babe, and then some of the Unfavored demographic group members plant themselves in a proximate location or even move in by interjecting themselves into the conversation. Often, the perps will align an Unfavored demographic group gangstalker (e.g skinheaded male luggy thug) directly in front of or behind a Favored demographic group gangstalker (e.g blonde babe).

    This dynamic blending of the respective Favored and Unfavored "auras" (aka bioenergetic fields) is my interpretation to explain why the perps keep this constant parade going. There is the intermingling and criss-crossing of one gangstalker in front of the other, and then in reverse order and differing directions and orientations, as well as the above mentioned combinations in the form of a Favored person in fugly colored clothing. A recent example on the crew bus 03-2011 was having the fugly negro (Unfavored -male, dark skin, dreadlocks) align himself exactly behind an attractive readheaded woman (mostly Favored- young attractive female though with Unfavaored red hair), and then later incrementally offset himself so he could be partially viewed, and then the redheaded woman seeming to collapse and fall asleep so to remove her head from the scene altogether. There must be a constant energetic interaction going on that we mortals are unable to consciously detect, and one's internal cognitive/emotional valence comparisons of all the arranged beings/personalities/items/colors between Favored and Unfavored categories has a direct bearing on these bioenergetic interactions which appear to be remotely detectable in realtime.

    We all create a subconscious list of Favored and Unfavored characteristics, though in my case I am reminded of this all the time, and not out of choice. It has become apparent, that there is reason to suspect that I may have been taken to the infamous Dr. Ewan Cameron of McGill University when I was in Montreal for my father's academic years in 1956-57, 1958-59 at the ages of two and four. (This is the updated (08-08-2009) portion as I did not know that I spent two years in Montreal before beginning primary school at age 6. I "found" (read, was set up to see) a family photo which showed me in Montreal for the 1958-59 winter and no one in the family ever mentioned this). There are other extensive lapses in recall that I cannot account for from the age of two, when permanent memories are formed, to age six. And it would seem there are fragments of recall, mostly associations of specific beings/personalities/objects/colors and combinations thereof, that are likely stored at a deep neural level the perps did not anticipate or could not then delete. It is most likely that the ongoing perp's relentless presentation of Favored and Unfavored subjects is likely to elicit deep neural subconscious reactions of these long past traumatization associations, which are thereby revealed in some bioenergetic way and remotely assayed in realtime. They also tell me that the relative size of persons and objects at the time of traumatization is important, hence the huge variance in vehicle sizes, as well as distance and orientation dependent games they put on.

    It appears that my current existence, and it is not a life, is to be harassed and abused in the perp's attempt to resolve the traumatizations they inadvertently incurred. This blithering fuck-up in attempting to delete my recall of their illegal and abusive medical intrusions from age two to six now begets a daily litany of abusive harassment in the form of;
    • hundreds of planted and swarming persons around me anytime I go outside (gangstalkers),
    • thousands of arranged vehicles, by color, type and design features anytime I am out walking on city thoroughfares or driving in a vehicle,
    • incessant planted noises in concert with my activities, right down as to exactly when I scratch my nose, read a specific word, make a typo correction, turn a light switch on etc. and
    • extra-conventional application of gravitic control to constantly abuse me in the form of faked touchings, vision impairments, imbalance, flashes of plasma and maser beams, pulling objects from my grasp, interfering with my normal perceptions, recall and vocabulary and entire daily function
    • planted thoughts and notions entirely unlike before this all began in 04-2002.
    There has been a 9 year long intense overt harassment campaign (as of 04-2011), aka "total harassment theater", by means of the the above mentioned seeming re-enactment of the past traumatization associations. If the deep traumatizations theory is true, these appear to be an impasse to whatever future plans the perps think they have for me. What that is exactly I don't know, but one can be certain that these ruthless and depraved cretins aren't undertaking remediation out of charity or "concern" for the victim, no matter how much of this is borne of their past abusive ineptitude.

    They could actually leave me alone, as I was doing fine until they intervened with the current overt harassment methods in 2002, along with the cock and bull story of making it seem as if there was a clinical cause, which there isn't. Naturally, a forced and illegal stay in a hospital, which is what they did for six months over 2002 and 2003, would serve their purposes for exposing me to this aspect of traumatization re-enactment, aka Unfavored events, beings and objects of a clinical nature, mentioned above.

    Let me be unequivocal, I don't need any intrusive psychopathic or otherwise deranged white knight to play juvenile stunts with extra-conventional gravity tricks to make "restitution". I am the one who to defines that for me. Being contained in a depraved nonconsensual human experimentation is not it. I have been abused and fucked with enough; pass the dough and stay out of my life, as it has been trashed plenty long enough. (03-25-2011).

    Post Daffodils

    Mar. 24, 2011
    An intensive web browse day, even if some horrible emanations are coming off this LCD display and causing reading impairment.  This won't be a long blog posting by any means

    Totally unfocussed and vision-fucked tonight. Allowed some music listening, enough to dispense with some once hopeful bookmarks that I keep for promising musical talent to listen to.

    A shut-in day, not even a hallway venture to the laundry room, as I had an urge to get the laundry done last night after getting in from daffodil picking. This blog posting is getting down to Twitter level, and that is not a good thing.

    Mar. 25, 2011
    A day of some shopping, getting my raingear and gumboots from the farm and cleaning them of the caked mud at the First Feral Family house backyard patio. And lo, just when I wanted to blast the garments with the adjustable spray nozzle, why, it fell apart with water spurting out the back of it where the pressure control valve was. And lo, if there was absolutely no way it could go back in and be securely held, never mind operate as it once did. And as the natural bristle scrubbing brush was outside next to the hoe, why, it was ready for me to use with  lower pressure water directly from the hose end (nozzle now removed), and scrubbing to make up for the lack of cleaning capability that the nozzle end offered. So... it would seem, someone didn't want me to use the nozzle this time, as I did some four months ago or so when I had the raingear there in the same circumstances, to get the chunky mud off in preparation to launder it in the washing machine there.

    And ten days ago, I had my own natural bristle cleaning brush of the same size and kind, and cleaned my backpack of mud in the bath tub, though at my place. I suppose the natural bristle brush application of removing mud and soil spatter is of intense interest to the perps, as is all cleaning and laundering. It is just that they now wish to compare the two activities some miles apart, though on different items. I would not doubt that I will have a "need" next week to get my backpack cleaned up at the FFF house to repeat the exercise there, as it got re-splattered despite using a protective bag since it was cleaned. Such are the experimentation progress travails of the sickos over mud (or more accurately, soil and its provenance and energetic properties), water and cleaning.

    And as it "happened" my mother wanted to come on my driving trip and add some of her stops into the itinerary as well. Not a big deal, as it is her vehicle and I don't have one. And of course it was a major gangstalking event, more on the vehicular side with light rain that seemed to follow me. As I drove on the highway (17) in part, four lanes in each direction, there was room for a cast of thousands of color coordinated vehicles, along with arrangements by size. Her vehicle is a Ford Escape, and lo, if there wasn't sometimes three of them in our immediate proximity, including the Mazda Tribute, essentially the same vehicle made by Mazda under their vehicle platform sharing agreement. And heavy on the red vehicles too now, three or four in a cluster, and in another advance in perp color games, arranging the odd light metallic tan (brown) vehicle in front of or behind a red vehicle.

    And speaking of light tan brown; when headed to the FFF house on the bus, why, a blowout of hydraulic oil at the next intersection and that it was covered in light brown sand to absorb it. Funny how that happens to me.

    One obnoxious color that is getting more perp play is carmine red; I loathe this particular tone/tint more than any other kind of red, and lo, if there wasn't a woman on the bus wearing it. Two days ago, same deal in the daffodil picking field; a blonde woman in a same carmine red jacket was picking flowers, and once we finished up she got on her bicycle and took off. Like WTF; flower picking was winding down, and a new picker comes later in the day, seemingly to show off her fugly red jacket. This would be a classic example of the perps combining a Favored (young, blonde, female -not getting very close to see how attractive she was) demographic group member with a very Unfavored color, carmine red.

    Much lower key harassment today, none of the rage-fication abuse that has normally been applied since Mar. 09 when I resumed flower picking. Even the ambulatory gangstalking on the bus was lower key, though of note, they put a negro on as the bus driver for crissakes. Another all-time first for this town, as there are so few, less than 3% according the the official demographics. Some two months ago they put on a negro policeman standing around for some kind of traffic violation for me to witness, another all-time first.

    Enough for a posting, as it seems I am getting clobbered and cannot seem to recall any more detail to add here.

    Thursday, March 24, 2011

    The Freak Seat

    03-22-2011, 2015h
    Another day of picking daffodils in the muddy fields, this time with another low bunch count as there is slim pickings now, and plenty of pickers leaving by mid-day. No more 600 bunch days, as it seems I am fortunate to get half that now. Soon it will be over, maybe another week or so, and plans change every day as to if they are going to take a break or continue with a late field following these heavily picked ones.

    Another screaming rage show when making dinner tonight, such as it was, and then continuing when making tea in the evening. The usual provocations; pulling items from my hands, noises from nowhere, touches from nowhere, telekinetic/unconventional gravitic games like moving the mug on the counter by itself, sliding a  1/2" along on the counter, having the tea being poured down the drain run uphill onto the bottom of the sink, and others. They have put me through over 40 rage-ifications tonight so far. Two days ago it was the same deal when making dinner for two days of leftover lunches and dinners. But four days ago, they totally backed off for the first time since this escalated abuse erupted when flower picking resumed Mar.09, 2011. I wonder why they let up and then re-applied this higher level of abuse for this particular occasion.

    And the crew bus came and picked me up at 0650h, as it has since the same date, and lo, if the Fugliest Negro didn't return and reclaim his R. side seat at the front of the bus, displacing the former freak, the skinheaded lug who was rotated out and not picking today. Said negro was back gangstalking me as I exited the locker room, a 3x event now, batting about .500 for this one particular location and event. And same deal as always; he stays in his seat while we all file past him, making a R turn to the door and down the stairs in front of his seat. Perfect for gangstalking; elevation difference and an orthogonal turn.

    I also got the return of the guitar stalker/faux flower picker again, two days in succession. And it is most odd that he takes the bus in the morning with his guitar, not in a case, and then somehow disappears for the rest of the day, never seen in the fields or in the bus at the end of the day.

    A week or so ago, another guitar stalking Quebecois dude brought his guitar in a case and seemed to know exactly where to go on his first day and tail me to the locker room where he left the guitar against the wall, still in the way of through traffic. He lasted a day, picking beside me for some two hours and not doing a very good job, and then was gone.

    There is a French and French Canadian aspect to the stalker community. An attractive blonde woman is also Quebecois, as is another guy, the one who "happened" to get off the ferry, see the pickers in the fields and get himself a job, though he is an excellent picker to be fair. Another Quebecois from the summertime also arrived and was picking for two days or so and then somehow leveraged it into a job being the tallyman, recording the boxes in the field and tagging them. The farm manager is French, and also seems to do some kind of limited gangstalking role as an entre before other scum arrive and circulate in my proximity. I haven't figured out his role, though he knows me back to 09-2008, and in fall of 2009 I worked for three months as one of his field pickers. As to why they had a negro from Montreal in 2009 as a laborer I have no idea, but there he was humpfing the harvest along with the Mexicans. And he gets a flight home no less, quite the exotic treatment for us regular farm laborers.

    03-24-2011, 0930h
    The irradiation off this LCD display was too fierce to do much last night, and so the flower picking season is over after a third day of scrounge picking, being directed to go anywhere we like/think to find more to pick. A low bunch count, half of which was from a field to the N. of the very busy (read, vehicular gangstalking- arranged vehicle colors, serial color themes, types, and spacing) Mt. Newton Cross Rd. to extract the last 100 bunches of what I finished up on the day before. That was half my bunch count; so in other words, finding 20 to 30 bunches per 800' runs of daffodil rows isn't getting me much, some 208 for the day. A few others claimed to be getting 400 and 600 bunches, one of the first times this most germane topic was spoken about on the crew bus yesterday, coincidenaly my last expected day. There is the bait of another field coming on stream in a week or so, b ut with 20 Mexicans on the payroll, I am not expecting much. But one never knows; just when all the gear has been cleaned up and put away, a sudden need can erupt. Hard to know.

    And yesterday was the Freak Meet, wher they put on multiple freaks, after seeming to switch them out as mentioned above; the Fugliest Negro, the skinhead were both there, as was a blonde Caucasian case of dreadlocks, and the lesser (but regular) Unfavored freaks of the male ponytail, red hair were also on the crew. The Fugliest Negro unveiled his atrocious dreadlocks yesterday for the first time, quite the disgusting sight from my perspective, keeping his freak quotient high. Normally he stays well away from me except for posing at the senselessly protracted marshalling area, but today, he did a "walk at me" stunt as I was getting off the bus. He had uncharacteristally got off the bus first instead of his usual sitting in the front seat and waiting for everyone to pass by, and I was in file with a Mexican in front of me and another behind, and he comes the Fugliest Negro walking straight at me as I exit the bus for no reason as anyone could see that there were plenty of personnel disembarking. On the crew bus ride back he later did posing behind the redheaded woman, sitting exactly aligned behind her, and later offset so to be partially seen, and then she collapsed in a sleeping heap so her head was below the seat back to then reveal this Fuckwit's dreads in their unobstructed fullness. Her hair color was an interest almost red; not brunette and not a full redhead, but at the boundary coloration where I wasn't totally sure what it was. Enough to be leery of at any rate, and on the way to the picking fields from the farm in the morning, she was sitting directly in front of me fo the first time for the 5 minute ride, so maybe that was a "warm up".

    On the blonde hair side yesterday, the blonde woman in dreads was featuring herself enough to be sitting directly in front of me on the outbound bus, and not offset in the seat, so along with peripherial vision games of injecting her dreadlocks into my vision, while looking sideways which would normally would of eliminated this fugly hair-do, or hurl-do as I have called it in the past, I had to move seats to get this planted dreadlock bullshit eliminated from my sight. An unequivocal case of one's vision of not being one's own. And it happened to the the one morning where one supervisor couldn't make the bus and it turned back and drove into Fairfield, and past the very apartment building I happened to live at in 2004 to 2005.

    Other hair presentation action was to cross the two similar blondes up, aligning their heads and hair up and then offsetting them and then having them wholly separate and then removing one from the scene. This tall guy with unkempt blonde shoulder length hair (almost dreadlock looking) has been circulating around me for about the last ten days of flower picking and then a woman with a similar color of blonde hair started work, attractive and in her late thirties. Her hair was looked after and in a loose wave, and lo, if these two didn't begin to align their heads so the dude was behind the woman, and then begin this predictable game of having "hair doppelgangers" slowly offset to partially and then later, reveal the dude's unsightly mane. Partial and incremental reveals of Unfavored sights, in this case, male long hair in a near dreadlock state. Is this not familar to regular readers, the ongoing placement of the Unfavored behind the Favored and a slow incremental reveal of the former? Like maybe thousands of times now in the near nine years of this insane depredative abuse?

    The expected end of daffodil picking, and at least, a rest day to wait up and retrieve my rain/mud gear from the farm and get it cleaned up. The new rainpants will have to be taken back as they leak at the knees, "taking over" from the same model pair that erupted breaks in the fabric at the same location that begat the same problem. Funny how that goes, and that someone wants these rainpants so bad after all their soil contact that would pull this stunt.

    And the athletic kneepads that I wore under my pants also self-erupted and the elastic portion disentegrated sending whitish chips down my leg and onto my black socks. Another item that might need replacement.

    Yesterday was the first day of wearing a black scarf, after the perps planting this notion for the entire six weeks of flower picking, as the wind kept cooling my neck down. It "happened" to be on a display at the LD store the night before, hanging next to a brown scarf, the same tone of brown as the elastic bands that we carry and use for bunching the picked daffodils. It isn't the first time that a just-new garment gets extra one-time attention, and without being laundered in advance. The scarf was plenty long enough for once, but somehow it kept incrementally moving on me and needing at least four re-adjustments during the day to remain useful.

    More typing sabotage as I write the above, and extreme rage-ification to got with it, so time to post this and close the 2011 daffodil picking season.

    Monday, March 21, 2011

    Me and the Mexican

    A day of flower picking, daffodils of course, and it was just me and the one Mexican who showed for work today, most odd as there has been some 30 to 40 each day. [Update; they were shut down]. Some fly out tomorrow or go to other farms in their six month visa stay. It is a Sunday, and normally they work to the last day possible, so it is odd that only one came to work, and he arrived just as the bus was about to depart. None of the senseless 30 min. wait time for him in the mornings, and none of the surge of Mexicans that cluster around me as I am counting out my (brown) elastic bands for the day, putting them onto carabiner-like clips to keep them in bunches of 50 each, so I know where my bunch count is while picking. A hundred bunches is then tallied by the supervisors and goes into the system, and by which we get paid.

    He knew a little English, but that didn't matter too much as piece rate work is a solitary existence; head down, time is money, every mortal second. We were the only two assigned to this one field that led to the busy Hwy 17, Victoria to Swartz Bay where the ferry terminal is for the British Columbia mainland (Vancouver, Fraser Valley etc.) But the infernal noise of Harley motorcycles was out in force; over the eight hours of flower picking there had to be over a hundred, often in groups of two. And it wasn't very warm out either, even if no rain today, so I cannot imagine why so many bikers were out today, except as a contribution to the management of the noisescape the perps like to maintain around me.

    Then plentiful hot-rod muffler noises as well, that throaty gurgling that can be installed, it seems, on pickup trucks and other vehicles. Imagine the organizational effort; scripting eight hours of vehicular gangstalking on a four lane highway. Though I only looked infrequently, the vehicles were ordered by size, shape and color, and in one instance, the red and yellow vehicles side by side had a motorcycle escort to ensure that loathsome noise was in direct association with the vile color combination. (Have I mentioned in past blog postings how much I loathe the sight of red and yellow together, e.g ketchup and mustard?). Putting the Unfavored noise with the Unfavored vehicle combinations. I have seen other combinations where they arrange a hoarse ill-maintained mufflered vehicle to be clustered with some four others from the greyscale colors, all of which have normal muffler noise.

    He in dayglo yellow-lime green, me in dark green rainpants and rain jacket. This site was a quarter mile to the farm warehouse where the perps forced a crap again, toilet #2 blocked. And the one I/they blocked last week wasn't cleared, so we have a time series of blocked toilets. Not only that, they arranged a leaking ceiling in the locker room that just "happened" to leak water onto the outside of my gumboots, giving them a dose of city supply water instead of rainwater. And given the perp's obsession over all forms and water and its origination, color, turbity and other properties, I would surmise this too must  of been yet another water games stunt of theirs.

    And getting off or on vehicles is always a big deal for the perps; back in their high-abuse grandstanding days of 2002 to 2003, they would spray my hair with something as I exited the bus. Now, they put their Fuckwits to stand in the rear exit doors even with plentiful seating. So.. when getting off the bus a walk-with-me crew bus traveler, as she "happened" to need to get off downtown and visit a supposed friend at the nearby residence tower, the one that appears to have no one in it most of the time. This woman is a forewoman and has jerked me around a number of times as to daffodil flower picking quality as it seems that I know more about than she does.

    And as it "happened", this sidewalk corner location had been just poured in the last week, so we both crosed from the old concrete where we disembarked to the just-poured (in the last week) corner portion that had been ripped up earlier. And have I mentioned the perp's obsession over exposing me to concrete redi-mix trucks as well as street works where they are pouring pads, curbs and sidewalks? Not recently I don't think.
    Mar,21, 2011, 2045h
    Another day of toil in the daffodil fields, this one less remunerative as this field by Hwy 17 is nearly picked out. I was the informal crew leader to direct the six to pick their row-pairs (two rows of daffodils, one center trough to walk in) and then picked myself, "happening" to end up in my two rows from yesterday that were mostly picked. The strangest memory lapse in recent history was that they screwed me out of knowing that I had picked there, and had me re-picking the same row again, as if anew. Then they screwed my recall even more by having me note these knee impressions in the humped up soil, and making me wonder who did it, when in fact it was me yesterday. Recall fucked and fucked again. This is getting seriously disturbing these memory fucking games. And about the time they let me in on what really happened, why the noisescape suddenly went into much higher volume. I had a legit roofer's tapping noise (working on a house nearby), the highway noise and a Bobcat to the S. scrapping soil all day long.

    It was the day I took some cut-up envelopes as paper to write down my employee number and bunch count to accompany the box of unattended picked flowers. I had run out of Post-it notes, equally problematic in wet and muddy conditions. But two of the crew seemed to know this, and asked for me to lend them the pen, and then the E. Indian and his big turban and long beard, last year's champion starer for no apparent cause when HE was the freak, leveraged the English language barrier to have me write out his number and bunch count on three sections of the cut-up envelopes. (And we are talking adhesives here too, a long standing perp obsession). He ran me out of paper supply and for his last bunch count, he somehow found some light brown colored paper to write up his details for the box of daffodil bunches. I got plenty of face time with him today, a first, as he knows so little English (apparently). As always, headwear, and particularly enlarging kinds like turbans are high on the Unfavored list, and the perps made sure I got a mighty fill of him and his turban today. He was doing "twin turbans" with another E. Indian last week, in keeping with the theme of twinning Unfavored demographic group members. Recall I had twin male ponytails and twin skinheads also.

    I also had the return of the Baghead dude and his girlfriend, as they hadn't shown up for over a week. He had this brown wool "bag hat" I will call it, an oversized and formless hat that contained all his hair, which I know from the last time I saw him 1.5 years ago when he got canned for stealing food from the compost pile, contains his dreaded dreadlocks. And that particular hairstyle has to be the fugliest and disgusting thing/style anyone can wear on their head, maybe even worse than the skinheads, but only the perps would know for sure, as they constantly test me for my subconscious reactions between one Unfavored category and another. Recall that they were testing me with a fat woman (over 300lb) and the Fugliest Negro last week, back and forth, look at one, and then the other. Thankfully the "bag hat" dude kept it in a hoodie for the day, about the only redeeming event for that particular headwear to date, also an Unfavored sight and often presented by the perps in making sure I see plenty of them. I sometimes wonder if I have ritual abuse subconscious traumatizations that are persistent, given the perp's preoccupation with showing me knives, blood (or facsimilies thereof) and hoodies, even in the height of summer.

    I purchased new rainpants only five days ago as my old pair somehow erupted with holes at the knees, and lo, if the new pair without any apparent holes also leaked at the knees today. A case of forced prouduct return again, and we have done that so many times, but this bullshit over leaking water in at my knees (as I kneel down when I pick to save me from the imposed back pain if standing and leaning over) is outrageous. Another one of those mega-flukes where the discarded pair and the new replacement pair of the identical brand and size just "happen" to leak at the same location on the garment.

    And it was a special day for knee games too, as it was the first day I wore my blue and white athletic knee pads under my pants to thwart the myriad of stones that now seem to be stabbing me in the knees. What am auspicious occasion for the inaugural new rainpant knee leaking jerkaround. And too, because we are working to end this job in a week or two, I won't have an opportunity to take my rainpants in for exchange until after this gig is over, as they are caked in mud at the end of each day. Or at least, that is the planted limitation, but I don't think the real me would take sopping muddy raingear back to the store either.

    A trip to the local supermarket tonight and what a freakshow that is. But first the stairwell that I take; about a week ago some whitish stains were on the mid-grey painted concrete, not unusual given the perps seem to crave to have color and greyscale variation around me. Then one 2" spot of loose dry soil "shows up" on one stair on the first flight down. The next day two, and today, four stairs in succession have soil aggregations on them in a line, oblique to the treads. I always thought that cleaning would be improving the place, but here we have a case of incremental soil testing on me when not at the farm.

    Back to tonight's grocery shopping; at 1945h, about the time that all downtown workers have long gone, but not tonight; dude flushes of three wandering through the produce section for crissakes, my redcoat coverage that started when blocking egress within 10' of entering the store also "showed up" again at the back of the store where I selected the yogurt. A dude flush of two semi-retarded types with oversized ball caps and dressed nearly indentically in baggy black clothing put on two reprises. And then the checkouts were jammed up so I do another store tour, still getting screwed into "forgetting" one of the three items I had planned to acquire. Then a (white wool) bagheaded negro woman doing a still pose in profile in the produce section "happened" to come barrelling at me around a corner from the opposite direction (and how she crossed the span of the store to do that in such limited time is another interesting side question), and then a skinhead as the stocker/stalker was on duty in one aisle, and then a staring dude while he was standing around among a cluster of six or more grocery bags. Then I get screwed twice with gangstalkers getting ahead of me in the line, and then a couple behind me start having a disagreement with the dude seeming semi-retarded and using this as an excuse to move closer to me pretending to be unaware. By this time I was getting too close to the tall blonde in front of me, but she artfully kept her back to me and pretended not to know. Then the checkout cashier called on the phone for a "bagger" and lo, if she wasn't a large fat blond woman. As I was about to enter my debit card details, why, a light flash from low down and to my right, and lo, if it wasn't one of those dumbshit motorized wheelchairs with the culprit/prick keeping his headlight on. And then to get out the place, and lo, if there wasn't a cluster of four Fuckwits at the exit, keeping me in place for longer, and forcing me to take an evasive path closer to the wall, walking over the normal location of the flower stand that was taken down. Then a dude flush around the corner on the street, three abreast and all in baggy black jackets and yet again looking like they aren't collectively playing with a full deck. Finally I get to my apartment lobby, and a dude is hanging out on the couch, also in a black jacket and looking sideways at absolutely nothing of interest in keeping with the insane perp obsession about looking elsewhere than expected. And that stunt also played out earlier when I finished up the laundry, rounded the corner and there ahead of me was this bald dude leaning against the wall and looking down. I am bound to approach him because my doorway is only 7' from this utter freak, and I keep my eye on him and he doesn't look up at all. Totally beserk perp behavior IMHO.

    I had been "skinheaded", as in gangstalked in excessive amounts or else forced to look at one that "happens" to be in my view, on the way back from the farm in the crew bus. He wore a toque yesterday, but today seemed to be assigned to showing off his bald pate to my disgust. He was sitting on the R side facing forward, opposite the driver, and it was the same seat that the Fugliest Negro habituated and the rest of the crew would leave vacant for him to occupy. From my perspective, it became the "Freak Seat", where the most Unfavored specimen sits to somehow add "freak commonality" to the same seat on the bus, each trip. Don't ask me why the perps do this, but they do, looking for some kind of spatial/juxtapositional commonality or whatever the fuck they are hounding me over.

    Enough blogging tonight, and I won't get to the recent comments for a reply for a few days yet.

    Saturday, March 19, 2011

    Picked Out

    Some kind of horrid emanation is comming off this LCD display as I type this, so it will not be a long post.

    Another day of piece-rate daffodil picking, my new horticulture carree courtesy of the perps not wanting me in IT since 2002. And I am still not able to leverage this on-off horticulture carreer into something longer term and interesting such as vineyard laborer. Not one of them responded to my applications to their ads, some four or so  that had accomodation with the labor job. The vineyard laborer jobs also go from March to October, instead of these one or two month gigs picking flowers, bulbs or fruit. I get to play "guess the gig" for the perps, one of their seeming important ideations they like to plant on me. It is tiresome to say the least; I have no idea what they have planned for me, but it will be close to minimum wage and it will be short term. End of tune. They don't like me to earn much, and even if I did, they would have all manner of covetous acquisitions in mind for me to get.

    The latest tool/toy ideation they have planted, now for three months or more, is to get  Dremel tool, a small hand held high speed drill that has no end of application for small things, including sharpening tools, one of their favorite activities for me to do. Like WTF; I never had one before all this happened, and now that I have explored the online ads and product demonstrations it seems to be a handy little thing to have around. Except that the perps will make everything screw up, and if a tool is new to me they will exploit my ignorance of its physical capabilities to the maximum. Why would I take this on in the first place with the Hounds of Hell riding my every move? Go figure, but they do like to plant their ideations over acquisitions.

    I did my income tax return two days ago, and while I have "only" $300 to pay, it is money I don't have. As it "happens", I was dipping into the red, and the recent half month paycheck got me into the black. I have done at least two years in succession of this line of credit living, and it is punishing as it has to be paid off before I can save anything for the next lull in work. This infernal disability payment I get each month isn't enough, which is the real crux of the problem, not to mention the perp's abiding interest in rendering me broke for as long as they can.

    Anyhow, all those big spending plans they had for me are over, and I don't want to be screwed into thinking that I can afford anything more than the basics. But there is always something they pull to jack up the expenses.

    A better day for daffodil picking as it got warm in the afternoon, something that had been very rare for all of Febuary and March until today. The perps wasted no time in making me sweat and having the garment damp while doing the senseless 30 min. wait before the bus departed.

    And more organized exclusion this morning; the Mexican crew usually goes to the crew bus first, get taken out in the field and then it returns for us locals in about 10 min. So the Mexicans started herding and I suddenly "need" to pee in the stinking washrooms, and when I get out, why, everyone is on the bus together and I am the last one to board it. I have experienced a number of these organized bus and crew assignment exclusions where everyone but me seems to be in the know. This is just the lastest installmen of that sorry practice.

    Another is to have me wait in the crew bus with a few others in other seats for 20 min. or so, an arranged "cluster fuck", and then have the gangstalking crew cluster around me on the outside of the bus at length. One even went so far as to lean on the bus, and lo, if it wasn't outside of my seat, and he couldn't see in because of the heavy tinted windows, likely perp directed for their games of seeing the same thing through glass or directly. And the leaning Fuckwit was from the September bulb processing crew, he having suffered a major stroke in his early 40's, and his recall is nearly blotto. But somehow he managed to "find me" from the outside and lean on the bus outside of where I was seated. This particular person became problematic when he would wander off the conveyor line and bother other personnel doing therir jobs. That he lasted two weeks was charitable, as I see he didn't last two days as a flower picker. He picked 85 bunches for the whole day, earning himself a whole $17.

    Bragging some, though I am not the fastest daffodil flower picker, I am picking 450 bunches a day, grossing $90 ($0.20/bunch of ten). Some of the picking records are 2,200 bunches a day, 1,800 etc, with the training video saying we could easilly get 1,000 bunches per day. As in NOT; even one of the best row picking of early this week before taking two days off, I did 600 bunches on the day, about 75 bunches an hour. That was fast for me, but it isn't too difficult to see where I could improve, but the perps won't let me, ensuring I get stiffed with their finger fumbling games, pulling the flowers from my grasp, and having the cutting knife got to the wrong location and also having leaves hang up on the knife far more than it occurs for anyone else. Who knew that I would be doing flower picking for the perp's agenda?

    I suspect thousands of abettors, First Feral Family and the rest of the operative Fuckwits knew all along, going back to 1996, my supposition on when they decided to take me down and launch this relentless and extreme abuse. That is when the ex, then wife, started acting weird and I never did get to the bottom of that episode, and didn't buy her excuses at the time. The perps made went overt on April 15, 2002 and haven't let up since, of which farm labor work is only one of their mean to fulfil their agenda.

    Other bullshit at the end of the day was to play minor hero three times; my next row picking neighbor of Asian extraction headed off to see the foreman some 120' away, and then he comes back and gets cranked that he lost his glasses and needs them. Well.. his foot was 3" from them as they sat on the ground, and I told him not to move and bend down as that is where they were. No big deal, not harassment, just a little skit.

    Then some few minutes later when crossing the field, one of the pickers got stuck in the mud pond that the tractor stirred up, and couldn't get out as the mud was sucking his boot off if he tried to lift his feet. And this very conundrum "happened" to me on another field and it took all my might to get out. So... I got him some wood board chunks and told him to lever his foot up and then place the board on the top of the mud to step on while he extracts the other foot. It did work and he did get out without losing his boots or socks.

    Then while doing the senseless wait time before the crew bus departs, this same guy in this perp-issued red, blac, and light blue plaid pack leaves it near me just as the bus was pulling out. The bus stopped for me, and yet again I was the last to get on board. I asked hime aobut the pack, and then he had to stop the bus again, retrieve it and re-board the bus. He thanked me for saving his ass again, and I said that was OK, it happens to everyone some time or other. No big deal, even if was a perp-issued color scheme, attempting to leverage the light blue (Favored) with the red (Unfavored color). (The black would be a neutral color in most circumstances except for big black vehicles with dark tinted glass and blacked out wheels- don't like that combination for some reason that the perps would know, having wiped out 99% of my recall for the first three years of permanent memory laydown, aged 2 to 5).

    Anyhow, what is the point of these dumbshit minor hero routines, being the good samaritan and all that? No idea.

    Thats all for today, another early bedtime to get up for 0500h.

    Friday, March 18, 2011

    Flower Picking Back On Again

    After a two day break from picking I was at it again, needing to make some money to pay my income tax ($300 approx), and I see my bank balance is in negative territory again, something the perps like to do and remind me of. So.. cancel all those plans for a 128Gb SSD drive for this PC and all the rest of the coveted items the perps make sure I revisit in the form of web surfing, and then bookmarking the URL. And too, they are going to go another week and then shut it down for five days or so, and then restart with a smaller crew, of which I expect to be on. In other words, this is all about keeping my head above water, something the perps like to manage for, if not financial ruination which they achieved via the ex's erratic behavior over the divorce that rang up some big bills.

    Sometimes I wonder if the perp aren't also behind other larger macro-economic events like recessions and joblessness in order to broaden their research population for whatever gains thay are looking for in this exercise.

    And another full-blown screaming rage show while making the same dinner item I have made for the last 8 years, the seeming trend for the past week or so. They broke the block of just-opened cheese while grating it over the tortilla in the frypan, dumping one half in the dish as it was cooking. They also did this last time with a smaller piece by forcing the cheese block to release from my hand and fall onto the tapenade and chopped chicken meat layers on the tortilla as it was in the frypan. Then this time, they had a second smaller chunk fall into the dish shich was duly picked up as well but grated. So after cleaning the cheese block off, and putting the two large halves together to wrap in Cling Wrap (also a major abuse event), there is a missing piece between the two large chunks, the smaller piece that was grated. As I read this, after a total of nearly nine years of insane gatuitous extra-conventional abuse, here are the perps pissing with the cheese by breaking by remotely applied means and ensuring the two halves don't altogether join. And they are doing this with the chocolate too; for months now, they come artfully broken when I open the package when they were whole immediately beforehand. I am utterly pissed that this is the level of fuckery they are going to, and have taken almost nine years to get to this point.

    And at least 20 more rage-fications while making dinner, the opening salvo of the above cheese was later in the game as usual, but after that they were pulling items from my grasp, applying fake touches and even made it look like the dishes cleaning brush hooked the dishes rack and pulled it and the drain mat 2" from its position. No, there was no contact, and besides, I have never brushed, glanced and inadvertently hooked so many things in all my life and I take every precaution not to give the perps any excuse. But still these faked bashings and faked inadvertent contact events occur far more than they ever did prior to 04-2002, and now it seems the perps don't need an excuse. Yesterday they flipped the sink chain by itself without any apparent causal event right in front of me, no excuses at all.

    And the negro gangstalking is getting silly, with one tailing me from the elevator in the lobby (I entered the lobby via the stairwell) and onto the street and the first block. Then the Fugliest Negro was on the farm bus again, though the perps made sure I ddn't know that unti we got to our destination. But he did contain his posing and surprise stalking behind doors and around corners. Not true, he and another gangstalker entered the washroom as I was about to exit as I recall.

    Then on the way back, a negro woman gangstalker among the hordes of others at 1715h when I got off the farm bus downtown. Then another negro gangstalker getting out of a red vehicle just ahead of me, loitering at the front door intercome console, and then tailing me into the building. He turned down a ride in the elevator as a woman offered to keep the door open, she in a red anorak. As I have mentioned before, negroes are less than 3% of the population in this town but show up an inordinant amount, some 15% of the gangstalkers by my estimate. I don't know why the perps are so obsessed over this race, and why they go out of their way to present them in the gangstalking scene, but it might related to subconscious traumatization experiences when young, and for those years 2 to 5 that have been deleted from recall. The Indian Lake Project Blogspot has some interesting photos of military personnel testing children and stuffing them into small cages; one child is blind, another negro, and another Caucasian. As to whether I was there or not I don't know, but the silly faux military gangstalker games in this town suggest a military presence at one time in the past.

    I had a good system with my flower picking which is paid by piece rate for a bunch of ten. Whenever the box was full and I called a tallyman over to record it, I would write down the time and the amount, usually 100 bunches per box. After doing this faithfully for two weeks, why, I sudden start "forgetting", and am now wondering if I picked 343 or 443 bunches, and the perps do like it when I try to replay the day's events in mind, usually signifying this with extra noise or spot plasma flashes.

    And in playing number games, they also screwed with my paycheck. I kept records of all the flower bunches that I cut up to Mar. 15 and it was 3,077. So when I picked up my paycheck and saw 3,007 I thought it was correct, but when I checked it back at my place where I wrote it down, it wasn't the same. So it would seem (to me at least), the perps are playing dumbshit games over numbers, and what I recal or am dithered into not recalling, and see what the difference is. Anyhow, I didn't think I was 70 bunches different, and if it were 100 or 75, typical full box numbers, I wouldn't be so suspicious. All about playing number games, and a billion dollar budget to do so.

    It is getting late for a 0500h get-up, so I will post this as is.

    Thursday, March 17, 2011

    Doing Rage Time

    I have no idea why yesterday's blog posting is titled as "Daffodil Day Off", when in fact it is today that I took off, and another day tommorow.

    Though it is seeming that working in the daffodils might be an needed escape from the escalated harassment that has gone on today. At least 80 rage-ifications so far, and very intense when in the kitchen and bathroom. The perps have gone extra beserk since I re-started the flower picking eight days ago. The wandering gangstalking hordes at 0650h when at the farm bus pickup location, and then the profusion of clustered vehicles at that time as well. In past years at this same pickup location there was less than half that number of gangstalking activity.

    The perps laid on heavy rage-ification abuse when cleaning the bathroom this morning, an activity that followed cleaning my backpack and the mud off it in the bathtub. Then the perps did something strange to the backpack, keeping it wet even if next to the baseboard heater on a drying rack. The usual litany of provocational annoyances are; faked touches from no seeming cause, usually on my hands or inside forearms. Then there is the finger tip jabbing or poking, as if I brushed by something, and yet my hand was clearly inches away from any source. A variant on this is putting some kind of grit under my fingers as I grasp something, or another, is to poke something under my fingernails. And when cleaning there were endless arrivals of crud after I cleaned a surface, continuing the perp's obsession over crumbs, and their extension of the crumb/crud to be swept away, only to come back again, only smaller, usually for three progressive decrements of crumb size before it doesn't return. And another new variant observed today for the first time, is to have the iterative crumbs to be of a different form and color than the first one.

    I can say that the level of harassment/abuse is now reaching the 06-2006 days when they cooked up the neighbor complaints angle to evict me to smaller quarters. In four years of living in this location, and being constantly fucked with, I can say the perps are now raising the abuse level to those same desperate days. Except here, no neighbor complaints for some reason, when both the last apartment residence location and this one seem to be devoid of genuine tenants (about 140 apartments each). Ditto for the residence locations in this neighborhood, many of them 12 to 14 storey buildings, also seem to be devoid of residents.

    Two outings today, and the Dude Force was out in droves in both cases. I have never seen so many without an apparent day job, except in this city. The first visit was to the local supermarket, with the 2x aisle gangstalker arranged to be two ahead of me at the checkout, and when I arrived, he was returning from heading out to the aisles again, and saying out loud that he was sorry for holding us up. As is "so happened" this same Fuckwit who exited the checkout then returns there right away to join the three long line of dudes behind me. The dude immediately ahead of me had his groceries in his hands and enough to use his jacket front to contain the oversized pile of vegetables that he was purchasing. I have never seen something so nutty as this before, at any supermarket anywhere. This dude then finishes up at the checkout, and it is my turn, with the dude behind me getting too close, and I was glad for the extra room the previous customer/gangstalker had vacated. I finish up, exit the supermarket and go through the adjacent parking lot, and lo, if it wasn't the vegetable man coming at me in walking through the parking lot for no apparent reason. Maybe he wanted the front of his jacket where he held his vegetables to get outside and front-facing exposure. All those vegetable energetics maybe, off his blue jacket, the same color of blue as one of the jackets in my closet.

    Then a three stop downtown outing to get some farmwork related supplies, one being new rainpants as the perps punched some holes in the ones that I am using. They put an E. Indian couple on my ass at the first stop, dealing with the dark green rainpants, and a cashier switch because I had a discount card. Then to get a scrubbing brush at the well known Victoria hardware store, with more dudes posted about, and coursing about, often behind my back. Then onto a outdoor gear store, with yet more odd ambulatory collections of dudes about; ponytail males, the buddy act, the waddling ones in shorts, skinheads and the tattoo acts. Maybe some vagrants too, another favorite cover story of theirs. Another new act is the middle-of-the-sidewalk standees, totally dumbstruck and standing there in the way, and even after they heard or saw me. Fucking absurd.

    Next day; "forgot" to post this last night.

    Late next day: and I see the perps FUD-ed me to delete the "Daffodil Day Off" posting by "mistake", when attempting to get rid of their multiple file versions that should not be happening in the first place. And it was another day off from the picking fields, and I managed to complete my income tax return today, and also view my now-negative bank balance and found out that I need to work all of March to keep my head above water. And so it goes.

    Monday, March 14, 2011

    Freak Pairs

    Another short blog as I don't have much evening time any more, and must get to bed by 2230h. A personal best for daffodil flower picking: I did 575 bunches of ten, so that makes it $115 gross for the day ($0.20/bunch piece rate).

    But was is apparent is that the Unfavored freaks are being paired up, even last summer's bulb picking with the "black hoodie sisters", two women of similar age and wearing near identical black hoodies and hanging out together at length. Today, it was the male skinheads turn, as in shorn bald male heads, the sight of which I (now- thanks to perp intervention) I cannot stand. This may be from subconscious traumatization associations if I got to visit the baldheaded patients/victims of the 1950's brain research which not only required bald heads, but also has tattoos to relocate the same reference points each day of experimentation. And my first three years of long term recall, age two to five, were mostly wiped out, and that might of been what was seen and experienced was too horrific. I just don't know, but I am consistently hounded with males sporting bald heads and also tattoos, something else I cannot (now) stand the sight of.

    The skinheads arrived independently but for some reason hung out together to be seen for the wretched sit-about time (30 min.) when we return from the daffodil picking fields. This repeats the Turban-Twins, as they also linked up and hung out together since the second turban wearing person arrived a few days ago. The other turban was constantly hounding and posing for me in the summertime daffodil bulb work, and lo, he comes to repeat the gangstalking experience again. But it seems the perps want to put two turban wearing males together this time, and so a new "turban lite" male arrived with a thinner and less bulky turban. I don't like the sight of this Unfavored demographic as regular readers will know, but it seems the perps wanted to pair turbans as well as skinheads for this daffodi picking gig.

    The Fugliest Negro was on his posing and gangstalking script, appearing at least 5x not including his front seat bus loitering this morning; behind a doorway (identical location to yesterday after work clothing was removed in the mezzazine locker room, and in other set ups where I "happened" to look. One such set up was in concert with someone I know from a past picking job, who also "happens" to be a regular employee, and she comes up to me to say hello, and we chatted briefly, and she departs, and I look around, and this horrendous Fugliest Negro is 6' away, doing his posing.

    An identical set-up with this woman took place last week when she offered me I ride downtown. I had to go to the locker room to get my raingear (more like mud-gear) off, and she waited downstairs and outside for me. When I got outside the door, there was a loose-knit cluster fuck in progress where all the pickers seemed to be equi-spaced in random positions, and after getting through this maze and sighting this work colleague, why, they put me 4' from the Fugliest Negro coming at me. It was a horrific sight that I won' forget; it is just the way it is and I don't mean any disprect, but it is the way I am being run. And after hounding me in the morning, the Fugliest Negro was posted at the gear hose-down stations for over 20 minutes while they placed an intervening short bus of Mexicans between him and the negro, over 40' apart. Finally, after this senseless waiting around, we got to go to the bus, and lo, if the negro wasn't still there to tell us which bus. like WTF; who spends 20 minutes hosing their gear down? And lo, if the negro hadn't sprung some of his dreadlocks free instead of his usual habit of keeping this fugly hurl-do hair style in his tightly cinched jacket hood. Anyhow, it seems the perps are going strong on their Unfavored demographic group member stalking, and this is one of them that will be running for as long as I am on this picking job. Who knows, they may even pair two negroes together as part of their advanced Unfavored demographic specimens harassment.

    And the perps have being also heavy on infuriating me each evening; some 30 rafgeifcations from faked touches, jaqbbing to my fingers and wrists, extra noise coming from nothing that I can see, pulling items from my grasp, flicking muddy water droplets around (of so seeming source) and placing crumbs around, also of no ostensible cause. They must of pulled over 80 rage-fications from their provocations last evening, getting me especially fucked with when making dinner from scratch and not having leftovers. It is too exhausting at times to do anything as I am constantly provoked into these controlled rage "reactions" which aren't really coming from me. I would of long adapted to these insults, and yet they screw me into a state I wouldn't ordinarily be in.

    Enough, and I must get my gear ready for tomorrow's toil in the soil.