Sunday, July 29, 2012

Soggy in the Vineyard

Back to work this Monday, and not only overnight rain that ceded when I got to the vineyard work site, but the rain came on about an hour into work, and stayed that way until the last worktime hour. So.. that meant a thermal sweater, rain gear and a fleece hat while tucking shoots into the trellis wires and snipping off high shoots and lateral branches. Nothing too thrilling, but the usual hot rod vehicle noise started up about an hour into the job, and lasted 20 min. or so. The builders below were doing realistic noise, instead of the ridiculouse one hammer tap per second nonsense. Later, they somehow succeeded in timing their tapping to just when I pruned a shoot, at leat three times in succession no less.

I got soaked down the right arm as I was reaching up most of the day, but we all knows who likes to selectively wet me and plant water droplets all around. Not an eventlful day, but maybe that is the best that I can hope for in these dire circumstances.

And as the perps like to do after a day's vineyard shoot pruning, they like to flash pictures of vine shoots in my vision as particular times, akin to noisestalking (arranged coicident noise with tasks of interest to them). Call it backflash-stalking, and they have made it worse than before, so once per minute isn't too disconcerting.

The roomie house games continue; this exquisite choreograpy of the raw foodist roomie "happening" to arrive in the too small kitchen when I am making tea, exchanging places, about to scoop my hot water. So then, she follows me in teamaking, also hovering over the sink. It is fucking tiresome to be constantly hounded by these arranged coincidences and shared items/foods/water immediately before or after me. This morning I find a jar of yellow mustard in the compost bucket. Before dinner, I find an avocado and melon remnants in the garbage/trash. All this in a recycling conscious household. Go figure.

Then I find out that one of my dessert plates that I "somehow forgot" to dry and remove from the kitchen this morning was taken somewhere and then returned this evening. I suppose these are the follies of roomie living, but why am I getting cognitively clobbered over things I would never forget?

And I see the perps are now allowing me to have tea from some kind of mesh fabric teabag, as I had been using either paper teabags or loose tea. And so it goes as I move up the complexity chain of experimentation subject.

On another experimentation front, I have been getting some kind of bug bites behind my R. ear when working in the vineyard, two days in succession. Normally, I don't miss any kind of insect chewing or probing me, and "somehow" this occured at least four times the first day. The next day the same thing, on the same side. The third day, about the same number of bites behind my L. ear. In the past, 2008 I believe, I had a sudden outbreak of bedbugs in my apartment, but I was never bitten. At the time, the perps gave me a rare telepathic rationale, indicating that they didn't want insect originated toxins in my system. So..., if one accepts that, then they might now be testing me with bug bites four years later.

And speaking of bites, the perps have been juicing me with rattlesnake scenarios when working on the vineyard, and of course, indicating that there is more than insect toxins they want to test. Naturally (har, har- nothing is natural in my contained world), they plant serpentine-like debris on the ground for me to momentarily misinterpret.

Still on "shit refugee" status, being forced to take a crap at the mall again, Irritible Bowel Syndrome (IBS) leading up to it. No toilet games when there, just a parade of Fuckwits for me to see through the vertical gap in the door. And no less, one of them in a wheelchair for crissakes. the perps like to obstruct what I see and often confine me to see a narrow vertical or horizontal space to then put an Unfavored speciment into the narrow space. This way they can block out much of my visual cortex and have just a small portion get an abreaction to the Unfavored. They did this with a negro about a year ago, and  have done it with a motorcycle, fat girl, and as of today, a freaking wheelchair. And have I mentioned how I loathe the sight of these things? About every week.

And the perps also seem to be working hard on showing me wheel spokes, bicyclles included. The latest is a new spoke design which puts them in pairs. As me if I care, and I am sure the perps have many times.

A day of manual top hedging and tucking in the vineyard, now complete. It took two of us nearly two work weeks to do it. Not a whole lot of flexibility with a small crew (two). And some powdery mildew was discovered, so we had to do a fruit pick for affected bunches. But I got some suntan time in today, and that is all for the good, and the perps too in all likelihood, given their obsession over the effects of sunshine, as well as vitamin D production and brown skin. There is something about the etheric field and sunlight (and all EMF for that matter), and its interaction they need to find out.

And too, much extra noise yesterday as well as the rain, all for me to start pruning with the pruners I had sharpened on Sunday, the day before yesterday. I honed the hand pruners with three levels of diamond grit stone, and spent at least 40 minutes on lapping the flat side of the blade as it somehow became uneven and was degrading their cutting abilities. Then about 20 minutes on the bevel side to get them sharp once again. The carbide scraper didn't seem to be working very well, so maybe that tool has passed from perp favor, and they want me on diamond stones alone. The whole deal with cutlery, knife and cutting edges is such a big deal for them, I don't know where to start to explain it all. Suffice to say, I get plenty of noise at the moment I cut anything, from meat to pruning shoots and everything in between. It is just plain tiresome.

A day of thining and pruning vine shoots, now on the Cabernet Sauvignon rows, which are extra prolific, with new 6' shoots since we were last pruning there three weeks ago. Not much fruit on these ones, and it seems that if I thin according to the fruit the trunk would be too bare, so I leave some non-fruit shoots in to fill in the trellis. Mostly sunny, some threatening thunderstorms for an hour, but they never got close. The way this vineyard work is set up right now, is that my co-worker is at the S. end of the property, and I am at the N. end, with the house and the rest of the six acre vineyard in between. The perps like to split me up from co-workers when they have the change, likely for some distant dependent energetic detection. And too, a powerline runs along the W. side of the property, and I was reminded of it with the snapping and crackling of the wires.

A haircut after work today, a rarity as normally I get it done on the weekend. Perhaps the perps have me scripted to work then, as we will be getting behind with my co-worker leaving in two days. And another change-up; I have been getting my legs waxed at the same appointment for my haircut, but it wasn't doable today. Changing my habits, even if originated and dictated by the Thems, is a big deal for their ongoing nonconsensual human research. And what was with the seen-before supervisor woman looking positively grotesque in glossy make-up and slicked crimped hair? A regular person turned into a freak maybe?

And a trip out to the grocery store after dinner, a real 20% off for the last Wednesday of the month, unlike three weeks ago when there was a total fake-out as to the day, and then belatedly learning that the sale was faked for a week after the fact. The landlady talked it up, there were swarms of gangstalkers/shoppers in the store, so it all seemed to be the last Wednesday, and it wasn't as I later found out when not seeing a 20% discount on the reciept. And that is but one example of how clueless they like to have me, and have no compunction about doing it; humilation and abuse is just the air they breathe.

And lo, if I wasn't "shopping stalked"; within a minute of completing putting my groceries away, why, the raw foodist roomie arrives and puts her groceries down in the same location that I did, and too, from the same store. My till tape was still on the counter surface and she puts her grocery bag next to it. I should of seen her in the grocery store, but "somehow" didn't, and maybe she stopped somewhere else when she arrived.

And a three times attempt to pay for my groceries; the first time didn't work out with the chip end of the debit card. Then the magnetic swipe was presented as an option, but it failed due to some BS error about funds. So the cashier took over my card for the third attempt and lo, if it didn't progress normally, but unusually quickly. My retinue of freaks and weirds were all around me; the first the aisle, then the back of the store and then the checkout stalkers were in silent wait mode as the aforementioned debit card games proceeded. About 20% of my debit card transactions fuck-up in some way; through cognitive dithering, apparent card problems, or network problems.

Then onto cleaning and honing my Felco hand pruners while she putzed in the kitchen, put her groceries away, and fussed with plastic bags. I have never met anyone who fusses around with plastic bags so often, another order of magnitude than the cashiers at the chekouts who always seem to have an excuse to mess with them there.

Another three rounds of the roomie-stalker being in the kitchen and the gangstalk-roomie has suddenly erupted too, all for crossing my tracks or planting herself just where I need to go. And then I do an online order, (read, financial transaction stalking), and a friend of hers arrives and they start blabbing outside my door. This constant proximity stalking is worse than a having a puppy home for the first time, except that it is every time, and it is driven by wilful and relentless malevolence. Said online order was suddenly truncated because the mouse wouldn't work for selecting two more items. So... the mouse did then resume working once I began the checkout process.

And while in the next room the roomie timed a sneeze at the exact moment I was confronted with yet another PC mouse failure, of which the frequency has been suddenly amped up to about 50% of the time. A reason to take it apart and to go through the fucking abuse of not "knowing", as in dynamically applied cognitive dithering, how to put it together again. Another excuse for a screaming rage show based on the last time the assholes had me fix the PC mouse.

The roomie kept up her coincidental arrivals in the kitchen today; for breakfast at 0500h, and again when I got back at 1600. She had the stove occupied, ordinarily where I make my afternoon tea, but with four sausages cooking in a frypan, my teapot would be in the middle of all that. So forget it, another "dashed expectation" in this long running orchestrated abuse show. The raw foodist roomie is cooking up sausages again, so she cannot be vegetarian.

A day of work on the vineyard, continuing with tucking shoots and thining them out, with some leaf removal. As two rows were on the edge of a steep bank, I had to expend extra effort to attend to them when they were over my head and my footing wasn't secure.

Another forced shit at work again, and the toiletgetting plugged, even if it was an exceedingly small load. After two plugging incidents over the last four weeks, I didn't want to risk it, but I had no choice.

A day on the vineyard, and good weather too. And in concert with that, the Fuckwits screwed me out of remembering to bring my hat and shorts in the morning. This is something I do every day on this gig at this time of year, and all prior farm work jobs of the last four years, and somehow I "forgot". They both get inexplicably damp by the end of the day, so I hang them up to dry, and that is where they remained all day.

A cracking good thunderstorm this evening though, thwarting plans to dry my laundry, as the dryer seems to be beating up my clothes of late. At least 20 min. of torrential downpour, with added hail, and one flash, crack and boom altogether outside, enough to make me wonder if the tree outside got hit. It didn't, even if my vehicle was under it. And I suppose this might of been an exercise in tree cover energetic differences, as only my vehicle was under the tree, and the rest were out in the rain and hail. After it was done, I took my vehicle to do my mall dump, and then to get some groceries. I got plenty of vehicular gangstalking attention, especially the big black monster pickups and the blacked-in wheels on other vehicles. If I don't like the sight of blacked-in wheels and black vehicles with dark tinted glass, I don't see why I have to be hounded in two countries and three cities by some deranged abusive Psychopathic Confederacy for over ten years as to likely subconscious traumatizations (aka abreactions) they might have been inflicted during the three years they wiped from my recall, age 2 to 5. Go fuck your own, and get out of my life, such that it has been reduced to.

A rock concert a few blocks away will be holding forth today (Friday) and through the weekend to late Sunday. As this is the first Rock the Peach concert, it just might be connected to perp games, all the noise/music being heard in the background. I won't be attending because I am going to work this weekend at the vineyard to get one project phase completed.

The dog-me stalker-roomie is continuing her relentless coverage, now day two of it. She even got up earlier than I did, at 0450h, made her coffee in the melita filter funnel, and in keeping with her beligerent streak, left it in the sink for me to deal with. (I put it on a plate on the counter, but I consider leaving things in the sink and then fucking off to be higly rude, even beligerent, in a shared house, especially when one knows for sure that the sink will be in use within minutes. I call it "coffee stalking", which was normally the preserve of the streetwalking gangstalkers, carrying their Starbucks coffee around late in the evening. But putting the just-spent grounds in the sink a minute ahead of the next person will suffice as the latest variant of this very consistent perp prop, coffee. As in "browning around" games which are in high evidence each time I take a crap.

And speaking of which, what is it with brown skinned gangstalkers popping out from behind corners of the building, to/from my crap at the mall tonight? These  "pop-outs" as I call them, are getting more agressive and are using their timing to pop-out from behind corners, which is how I remember them starting this long train of abusive insanity (theirs) in 04-2002. And two green-shirts, aka "staff" were plugging the aisle in the supermarket grocery store tonight, so I go around them via another aisle, and lo, if a Fuckwit didn't pop out from behind a display so he could pass by me on my right side, wearing a green variant, olive drab.

And the event of my cell phone "somehow"  popping off its holster and only being discovered when I got home commanded my attentions yesterday evening. I drove out there to retrieve it, and lo, if it didn't somehow slip in between the seat and the frame of the Kubota RTV I drove to the lowest tier of vine rows. And easy find, as the perps had planted a significant number of scenario ideations; that it had been run over, that it had dropped into the vines/weeds etc. The owners are not home this week, as there is a state of family emergency as the owner's son, under 30, underwent open heart surgery in Vancouver this week. I don't know the particulars, but early reports were that there was no complications. So I feed their cat, a vicious indoor-kept cat, and do watering of the outside plants and garden.

And yesterday, during the work day of hedging and tucking vines, the perps pulled another shit stunt, forcing me to use the second toilet in the house, that also promptly blocked. Other unmentionable shit games ensued as well, but I will spare my readers of the details. If you have added them up, two of their house's three toilets were blocked. The One Second Plumber gas device didn't work on the first one, and the gas cartridge was spent attempting to get the first one unblocked, unsuccessfully. At the end of the episode, the perps let me in on another seal/cartridge configuration that might work. Nice of them. So, like the day before, I stop in at a certain country-wide hardware chain store, and get two more gas cartridges.

And it was my first order of work today, to unblock the two toilets. Eventually, it was successful, but again, there is no conventional reason for them to be blocking, or at least, nowhere near as frequently. Going back to 04-2002, when the perps outed themselves with shock and awe, one of their personnel was in my apartment and blocked the toilet with a ballon, which I later had to unblock with a plumbers snake I purchased. And every since, taking a crap has been a fraught experience of plunging, some overflows and messy cleanups. And the sudden onset of needing chocolate about that time (still continuing at $250/month), along with everything else in the color-stalking games, points to the perps being profoundly interested in the color brown, as much as they are interested in excrement of all forms, colors and animal species. I should add that in mid-2011 the toilet/crap games subsided, so that I could, after nine years, experience normal toilet behavior/experience. Then in 12-2011 they had me get my ass hairs waxed, and lo, if the toilet games didn't re-start. In general, they did subside in 02-2012, and even for the first week of June in this newest residence, but after that, the perps have reverted to their "toilet terrorism" games again. Don't ask me why their toilet/crap sabotage games have increased, nor what ass hairs have to do with what they are studying. I am sick fed up, and even more pissed that they won't let me take an fast exit from this psychopathically insane continuum of abuse. They had me for three years, aged 2 to 5, and wiped my recall of what was done to me, so surely they have extracted their pound of flesh, and can leave me the fuck alone.

More high wierdness this evening; the perps sacked me for a 1.75 hour long nap, of which I spent the last 30 minutes trying to get up, but physically couldn't. Then I hear someone knocking at the door, and only then was I finally allowed to get up. I see this elderly bag in profile through the semi-wavy front door glass, and didn't bother to answer it as it seemed she was departing. I take my recycle items to the back door, and then deck, and the landlady is calling out for "Linda" to follow her, in a way that suggested Linda needed extra direction and cognitive assistance. I assumed that Linda was part of the landlady's company, but somehow went to the front door, in error. I am about to start my dinner preparations, and Linda, the elderly person at the front door, is now at the back door and coming into the kitchen where I was. She says something about where is x, (the landlady), and I say she is downstairs. Linda is clutching a bottle of Coca Cola to her ample folds, and she then says we have met. I respond, "we have?", and she tells me my name, which I confirm. Then she makes tracks to find the landlady, going back the way she came. I get my dinner together, brown tortilla quesadillas, with red-brown rooibus ice tea, and sit outside to eat. And still the landlady is calling out for Linda, who is 6' away by then.

Anyhow, this bizarre charade of ensuring I see this Linda person through the  partially wavy front door glass, through the kitchen window glass (double pane), and then in person, while she was clutching a plastic bottle of Coca-Cola, the very favorite perp prop after coffee (geti it?), was arranged just after an extensive (and, unneeded) forced nap. And why the party of the landlady and Linda couldn't get it together and enter into the same door at the same time is also beyond comprehension. Just another vignette in this ongoing relentless abuse and cognitive confinement.

And on that note, I shall call this posting done for another week, and hope no one else's, especially from the TI community, is as bizarre and fraught as this was.

Saturday, July 21, 2012

Hiking Into the Thunderstorm

Some very strange dreams this morning, perp planted of course. Something to do with the former premier of this province, which is about he last thing I would dream about if uninvaded. Yoga this morning, and the contingent to move me somewhere else was in early so I didn't get my usual E side location. And the move-along thing again, which frequently breaks out (aka scripted and organized) in cinemas, theatres and now yoga classrooms. A couple came in late, he of the tattoos, and then myself and two others moved along in one direction so the blonde woman to my L ended up on top of my original location before the session started. A new instructor who walked the room and did demos wherever she was at the moment. She was the former owner of the business, and certainly knew her yoga and all things that go into the process from the student's perspective. The perps reverted back to their wobbling me when I was on one foot; last week they relented for the first time in five years and I was hoping this was the new trend. What did I say about how they like to arranged "dashed expectations"? As in all the time, these set-ups from disinfo shills as well as their planted notions.

And still in "shit refugee" status; a forced shit at the mall, and toilet probs arranged there again. Then off hiking  to Oliver to hike to McIntyre Bluff. some distant thunder and lightning, and as I neared the summit, why, the thunderstorm was on top of me. So...., within 100m of the summit, I put on my raingear and head back down. Still in my yoga shorts though, the tanned and near hairless waxed legs of last week stil look good.

It rained harder once I was back in my vehicle, and the perps were full value for misting up the windshield just as was to make a turn in the farm road. A hiking couple were nearby, and made the same corner ahead of me, as I waited for the windshield to clear. Funny how things are extra protracted or harassed at corners, or when changing direction.

As suspected, the perps had me put on more weight, now 197lb, up from 194lb last week. Why they need to puff me up like this is just insane, though I am sure it happens to far more people that would be aware of externally applied weight gain. I also suspect they added some 5lb to me since 01-2012, though I didn't have access to a scale then. Back in 2007 I reduced my lunch and dinners by half, and this had no bearing on my weight, even if I was working out twice a week. They have been planting the notion of liposuction for some 5 or more years, and had me purchase a book on it recently. As always, they like to start big plans and maintain no financial means to effect them.

Aren't roomies wonderful, especially when they call out for you through closed doors to offer something good, like these juicer and blender drinks that the raw foodist makes up? All to rouse me from a near sleep as a nap attack came on at 1730h, and I was just nodding off. An earlier stunt was to have her get in close to me under the excuse of needing to get at the cupboard that was behind me, as I was standing over the washing machine, untangling the just-laundered laundry, another perp trick of late. And how often have I mentioned that the perps find great interest in my and my laundry? About every other blog posting. And here we have the roomie-stalker making an excuse to look for something near me while dealing with the fuckery they pulled with my clothes at the washing machine.

Three days ago, this same roomie suddenly erupted for a 0500h get-up, to "join me" in the kitchen at that hour when he had been getting up at 0530h, if at all. The occasion of the event was that I was pouring the last of the ground coffee from the package into the coffee carafe instead of using a spoon. And that moment, at the end of a bagful of coffee, is a BIG DEAL for the perps, so of course they had their roomie-stalker get up early just for that, loiter around, make her own coffee and leave the Melita filter in the sink. Which a particular beef of mine, as she knowingly ties up the kitchen sink with her coffee-stalking games. I am finished breakfast before her, so I retrieve the Melita filter and coffee and put it on a plate on the counter. It just strikes me as totally fucking rude to unilaterally tie the sink up with one's mess in a shared kitchen and then take off. But of course I am expecting more rude outbreaks since 04-2002, when the Day of Insane Infamy came down on me with an invasion of lights, noise and unconventional physics in my apartment, along with some personnel later.

Vineyard work; manually topping the vines, and then tucking shoots in to stop them flopping into the aisle between the rows. A very productive site this is, as the shoots are growing at a considerable rate, more than other vineyards on other sites.

There are ongoing building construction projects from the E and S where I am working in the vineyard. As mentioned in past blogs, the sound of a hammer contacting wood about every second or so seems to be an awfully slow builder, nevermind being a quaint one who eschews pneumatic nailers. Somehow, this same noise and hammering rate erupts around all my farm jobs to date, from 2008 on. Often there is no visible project, though not the case here. I call these "tap attacks" for lack of a better term, as that seems to be the focus, this lethargic one hammer stroke per second or slower, unlike any builder I have known. And there has been building jobs around me nearly all my life; new school wings, lot infill next door, condo complexes and even a 50 storey office tower next to my former work in Seattle.

Then here this evening; the landlady tapping the wall underneath me in the NW bedroom as she now lives down there in the basement. And lo, when I have tea in the SE dining area, why, she is tapping the ceiling/floor under my feet. Can we say "without pretense of picture hanging" or whatever else it could be construed as? As in hounding the victim from below with prior knowledge of where the victim is? Besides, she never gets onto things like that, this place is Clutterville. There is even a picture that is awaiting hanging in this room for six weeks now, featuring dolphins, her favorite animal, after house cats and caged birds.

Post-reading a book outside at the table for 1.5 hours, plenty of noise like lawnmowers, screaming kids, and HD motorcycle noise. I finish up reading and start sharpening my hand pruners, and lo, if the same noises don't get louder while sharpening the pruners with a carbide scraper to pare down the cutting edge. And most odd that I "forgot" about this carbide scraping tool the last twice I was sharpening the pruners and a knife blade.

And more goodies arrived from my shopping binge I was made to go on about ten days ago. One being a new kitchen knife, a sankotu bladed knife, another item I have wanted for at least five years as I didn't have a good chopping knife, and made do with smaller ones. Funny how the perps promote the coveting of some items for years, and then suddenly the "need" comes on. This was a Wustof knife, of the same line when my mother bought a new knife for her kitchen after one somehow broke its weld. That was over  two years ago, and I was with her in the moderate sized kitchen store, and there had to be a gangstalker swarm of at least 40 of the assholes coursing about, my perp-abetting mother putting on the ditz and doing the standard harassment aiding stunts she suddenly took up when this insane abusive torture began.

The pots and lids games deserve a mention, as this is third time of three I have acquired a kitchenware pot on sale but without a lid. And so, like last time, I order a glass lid from the same kitchen supplies outfit. And I have no idea why they put me through this, as they don't let me cook with pots very often, just a frypan. And why ordering lids at least a year later after acquiring the pots in the first two. This latest round had a temporal interval of four months between pot and lid aquisition; I suppose one could call that progress for the perps, but as this nonsense has no apparent end use, what is the ultimate objective? But there have been other acquisitions which didn't make sense at the time, and lo, their use becomes manifest in new situation, months or years later.

While at work on the vineyard, Irritable Bowel Syndrome, aka IBS, and a forced visit to the washroom to relieve it and NO blocked toilet. Though, my co-worker champing on the bit to get into the bathroom after me. Funny how that "happens" here and at work.

Two nights in succession, I hear a male voice from the landlady's basement room below. As in who is it, and why so late. And of course she doesn't mention anything. More wierdness, and I have had my fill, but "somehow" the right place to rent doesn't come up

A day of tending to the vines in the hot weather; I am not complaining though, my never-before (harassment onset) abilities to withstand hot weather kept me going. In other words, my "wilting point" was much lower than it is now since the perps fixed (or control) it.

But they were up to their shit games, and after two hours of irritable bowel, they had me take another shit at the owner's house, and lo, if they didn't plug the toilet this time. It is the secong plugging, and I was surprised they didn't pull this stunt yesterday. It was a low volume dump, same as yesterday, and there is no way it should of plugged up. And the same deal; my co-worker arrives just as I am exiting the adjacent room. Like WTF; how could these forced craps at the owner's house, the first in over four weeks, be suddenly accompanied by my co-worker arriving just after I finished, two days in succession? Like I have said, it is all orchestrated IMHO.

Aircraft encirclement when on the deck reading this evening; two 180 degree turns by the same helicopter, a business jet for one flyby, and a Cessna doing three noisy 180 degree turns overhead. And the "tapping attacks" late in the day, about 1900h, as if I needed a reminder having heard it for most of the day at the vineyard. Not only that, but further replications of the vineyard neighborhood locally; the back lane residential neighbor starting a cement mixing project at 2100h, including a load of loose sand in a red truck with red canopy. The E adjacent neighbor was pounding the ground and seeming to be driving in stakes for some obscure reason, yet to be determined. As if I don't get enough of this at work, with the adjacent vineyard building a three bay garage and shop.

No bowel assaults today, as they have the toilet at the vineyard still backed up. Having a plugged toilet for days on end is a big deal for the perps, and so they gave me relief from the daily bowels/shit games of this week and last week. Nice of them don't you think?

And the "tap attacks" were still in progress today, though only from the S. direction where a much bigger project is in progress, a three bay garage and storage building, surely $100k worth. This way, not only concrete trucks, but soil and gravel hauling trucks, and a crane today -raising the roof trusses.

A sequence of the hotrod muffler noise also goes for 20 minutes of my first hour of working in the vineyard, part of the predictable noise occurences.

The adjacent farm propane cannon fires less now, maybe 3x/hour instead of 20x per hour. And now timed to the moment I prune a vine shoot with my Felco pruners or have a thought that is resonant with my perceptions. I say "my", as I am sure it is planted, but the instant I agree with the thought, it being relevant and true, the cannon fires off. The propane cannon is to ostensibly to prevent birds from feeding on nearby orchard crops, part of the agricultural pest management.

The E. Indian alterations shop woman seemed relieved that she was finished with dealing with me and the double zipper that malfunctioned. In the past, I could never figure out why people were so happy when it was time for me to depart, but it all make sense now, given that a malevolent entity orchestrates every interaction that I have with anybody.

A strange toilet conversation with the male vineyard owner; "what part of it do you think is blocked?". This from a trained engineer for crissakes.

A bigtime thunderstorm as I finish up work on a row of tucking and hedging vines. Only spatters of rain when I finished up thankfully, as I had my shorts on to get my legs tanned all the more. I see the vineyard worker some 80m away at another vineyard is down to shorts only. The same vineyard has a small backhoe back again, digging along the ridge of a small hill. And masers coming off the digger and soil coming at me too. The perps have no end of need to display soil of various colors and sources, and I suppose they are working on a 80m distance presently. Which might fit in with their need to have me take commercial flights of late, this distance dependent "need" again, all the way up to 30k ft. By the end of the third week of August I will have made three trips (flights) from Kelowna to Victoria, nonstop.

A nap attack of 1.5 hours after playing the first four songs of  "Fumbling Toward Ecstacy" for the first time, having recieved the CD in the mail earlier. Whatever "stuff" that was in the music/CD, they wanted me to be more neurally accessible by having me sleep so they could find its neural energetic correlates. Or, perhaps if there was no "stuff" in the CD, it could be they wanted some kind of first listening experience they wanted to find or look at.

And it could well be that I get a different copy of the CD than regular folk, so who knows what the perps are up to when sending me into a 1.5 hour long "nap attack" at 1700h, the least likely time that I would ever have a nap in normal circumstances. Besides which, they had me clogged and fogged for the rest of the evening in the incessant rain that followed the thunderstorm. I didn't need the nap anyhow, as I was getting sufficient sleep all week.

07-21-2013, Saturday
A 10 hour sleep overnight, again, not needing it; 8 hours a night is normal, and besides, that nap attack of yesterday should of kept me current with my sleep needs.

No work today, per normal schedule, and still an adjustment after the last four years of farm jobs that went 6 or 7 days/week. I usually went 6 days per week, and then attended to all manner of loose ends at the First Feral Family house, as there were always things to do. Or, the perps would create extra ones, like the deer invasion, and having me erect steel mesh or chicken wire to create defenses or to protect individual crops or plants. And the perps do like to have wire mesh selectively arranged in various places and circumstances.

Much downstairs pounding and clunking when finishing up on the infuriating process of creating an RMA (Returned Materials Aurthorization -fancy for returning warrantied goods) for a PC hard drive, yet again. I got drives with five year warranties last time (2009), and the perps are making sure they get full value by breaking or damaging them.  These are WD "Caviar" drives and said to be the best for durability, and lo, if this isn't the second one of the batch of four that I got in 2009. And adding those plus an apparent "failure"; as it "happened" to be a cable to the WD drive that seemed like the drive at first. Another one of those FUD-E fakeouts (FUD = Fear, Uncertainty, Doubt, and the E, added for this ten year true life horror story only, is for Error- the perps just love to create mistaken cause determinations). Pronounced as "Fuddy", as in Fuddy Duddies, another name for the Supreme Psychopaths of the Fourth Reich or whatever else one has for the THEMs.

And they didn't make it easy to create an RMA either, scrambling me as to whether I had an existing account and password, then screwing me around with an incorrect address that I could not fix no matter the multiple submissions I made. A 5 minute no-brainer exercise becomes a 15 minute abusive cognitive screwover with infuriating quirks of the online forms. Add in spurious error messages, erroneous error messages, no error messages, cognitive clobbering and the rest of the mind-fuck games, and it becomes an infuriating but orchestrated hell. Every possible thing, from opening a page of a book and anything more complex than that becomes an onerous undertaking that begets loathing from the outset, and usually infuriation along with it.

That I was drinking Limonata, a yellow citrus carbonated beverage, at the same time of the above stinking non-audible rage show (RMA creation) which is surely calculated as part of the perp games. Surely they have covertly monitored someone doing the same by now.

Anothe "shit refugee" visit to the mall, this time having no choice as to the stall as they had two occupied and one shitted up. They even changed out one of my co-shitting stall neighbors to get three of them in concurrent defecation mode. Plus, I had muzak playing in the background, lots of banter from the adjacent hallway, and even a whistling bathroom user. Come to think of it, it makes perfect sense to start this "shit refugee" status, as how else would they control/increase the background noise/music so consistently and have concurrent shit-stalkers?

And a 5x skinhead reprising gangstalker on my ass for the above visit; passing by (2x) to the bathroom, he "shows up" twice more when I was in the LD store next, and he did no shopping there, and is there to lead me out of the mall into the bright sunlight. If I don't like the sight of certain people, aka the Unfavored (skinheads as one of the many such demographic groups), I don't see why it is a 10+ year long relentless and psychopathically abusive and staged whole life Fuckover show to find out why I don't like them. I just don't like the sight of male bald heads, and I don't know why either. And no doubt it might have something to do with the 3 years of childhood that have been deleted from my recall, (1956 to 1960), where the depredators would know what I saw, and thereby having exclusive knowledge of my experiences then. As I spent two years in Montreal then, and other abuse victims from Dr. Ewan Cameron's Mind Trashing Experiments (see The Sleep Room), report that experimental subjects were shaved of all head hair, and had tattoos to delineate regions or persistent reference marks. And I don't like tattoos one bit either, and of course that too is a significant gangstalker subpopulation of the Unfavored demographic groups.

An eruption of roomie noise and the caged birds as I pay three bills online. Seemingly trivial events, but as I get noise/gangstalked at every financial transaction of every kind (e.g. mailed check, online, coin machine, bus fare etc.), it is important to the Thems. Now the roomie, a raw foodist, launched into juicing, so the energetics of plant pulping get added to this psychic (and/or other) energy mix.

And no doubt the recent months' spending spree was detailed into Quicken, that too is exciting for the perps and their financial transaction stalking interest. How about leaving me the fuck alone, as I have been abused enough, don't you think?

Another malingering male at the counter ahead of me at the sewing alterations shop. This was the occasion of retrieving my fixed briefcase, the one that had a double zipper malfunction at the conventionally unlikely onset of short term college training course, two years apart. Get it?

And in this roomie house, it was putting up a clothesline that became a three person project, the raw foodist heavy on the dumbshit suggestions. My ex was like this, and every so often I get stuck with someone who plants incessant stupid ideas. Now, the dumbshit idea role goes to the raw foodist roomie. And she had her big hair cut down to near butch proportions; many regular stalkers get radical hair cuts from time to time. I have no idea why, except it serves some kind of scale-proportion quest the perps obsess about.

A wind-up for Saturday, and I will post this though the perps won't let me review it all.

Saturday, July 14, 2012

Beach Day

Yoga and then off to the beach, though they dithered me severely when collecting my things to take there. The over-done tattoo woman at yoga was placed behind me and lightly off to the right so they could arrange in-mirror glimpses of her disgusting tattoos down her full arm and onto her shoulder. Another Unfavored feature the perps like to put on for my visual input. Only six other students when there was double that number last week. The woman in front of me at the cash desk had a large tattoo on the back of her neck for me to see. Last week they even put on a tattoo-emulation act; a woman in a flesh pink shirt with dark blue blobs and lines on it, like tattoos, but with a regular pattern. And so it goes, all these fucking games over the fact that I don't care for tattoos one bit, and likely have subconscious abreactions to them. Not my problem, so why am I the centerpiece victim of this relentless abusive insanity that has gone on 24/365 for ten years? Fill in the blank for the full list of Unfavored features and demographic groups, as it has been nothing but consistent.

The beach proved to be nothing much, and when I thought the sign said no dogs, why, there was three of them off-leash cavorting around and then the coup de gras, shaking their fur coat next to me and all over my book, darkening the page in streaks until it dried. And given that the perps just love to add water splatter to something I have been looking at or near me, and the color difference it confers, one can be sure that this was no fluke either. And that the book dried out over the next ten minutes in the blazing sun, changing from the darker wet color back to normal page color is just too exciting for the perps. Conversely, the gradual color change of steeping tea brings on a lot more coordinated noise and disruption. Now it is back to rooibus tea, the reddish kind they had me on about two years ago for two months or so.

A negro tailed me out of the parking lot, in his same mid-grey colored Honda pickup truck. Pardon my ignorance, but why would a negro be at the beach anyhow? It might of been the same one lollygagging outside the hair-wax salon yesterday, and not of the threesome that were inside for most of the time I was there.

And the perps have modified my own native thermo-regulation it seems. I would ordinarily wither at 30C degrees, but with their meddling, they have made me more tolerant of higher temperatures (32C here today, measured in the shade). It seems that if they wanted me to work in grape growing/viticulture as I am currently doing, it makes sense. For the most part though, the perps have been malevolent in making changes to me; keeping me at 195lb when I cut my food intake by half in 2007 won't go unpunished, should I get the opportunity if can get even with them.

I suppose looking mid-30ish at most, instead of 58 y.o could be considered a positive modification when they applied it in early 2004. That is, age regression, something they can do with relative ease, as well as morphing facial features and speaking tones and accents. No matter, if it is a prison planet I just "happen" to know it more than most as I am reminded every instant with forced typo errors ( after 35 years of keyboarding), constant maser dots. fuzzy balls and streaks floating in my vision, flashes of light, incessant noise and continued adversity at every turn, even for operating a light switch or turning a page in a book.

But as the new roomie is busy propping plastic bags here and there in the kitchen, arranging them to land beside the kettle having just used it, moving in on me at the sink with brown coffee or red cherries and the like, I can be sure that the perps are onto a new schtick, as they have kept me living alone for the last ten years, and at least three before that.

A near all sunny day in the vineyard, and back to the thining, lateral removals and the odd leaf plucking so we can see into the foliage to find laterals. These are this year's buds that have re-sprouted and present a yet more foliar growth, albeit unwanted. It is much the same as tomatoes, those so called "suckers" that occur at the axil (junction) of leaf-stem. One short row took me 3.5 hours this morning, and I got another one done afterward. Slow going to say the least, the worst is trying to find the laterals, and evaluating the growth habit of each shoot. And there might be 20 to 40 shoots per plant. We pruned to 24 buds primary buds per plant, but secondary and tertiary buds will also burst forth (aka, flush).

And the propane cannons have started up in adjacent orchards next to the vineyard. And lo, if the cannot doesn't go off when I switch attention, dispell a planted thought, or otherwise parry or equivocate or agree with planted thoughts. We have a long way to go, as the crop is picked in late October.

A thunderstorm as I write this, the dark clouds seem to be a perp favorite, as it is about the same grey as my vehicle. A lightening flash in this room as I pressed the "Submit" button to deal with my cell phone plan wretchedness/baffle-choices. Finally, I gave up on navigating through the rate plan changes and the warning of incurring device charges if I change the rate, and more unattainable conditions when I try to add extra data per month for these very data hungry so-called smart phones. Most of the 39Mb was due to getting a music player on that took FLAC files, and the various other attempts prior to that.

The thunderstorm went into the night, and as bedtime is early, it was still going then.

red games- Rita on the deck viewable through the window for whatever reason

hot out on the vineyard, but managed OK.

thining, laterals removed, de-suckered yet again.

hedging; electric shears fucking up, then the generator start, then the AC plug connection

toilet overflow

phone fucked; not charged the night before, no charger taken to work, added a voice mail on top[ to crank the angst some more. no good habit goes unsabotaged. from the same assholes who deliver on "no good deed goes unpunished"

four more mosquito bites on my R side neck, identical location for three bites yesterday

also, the latest is to have me start an email and then when I look up I see that nothing was typed in the box or dialog space, they simply made the cursor go away. Sams with an order online; they flipped me to a prior screen when I was filling in my credit card, so I had to re-type all the preceding detail again as it didn't come back. What is the point of having me type into a space and then fucking me so none of it shows up when they next let me look up to the screen to see nothing of what I typed.

day of hedging the vines

sucked into "thinking" last Wednesday was a 20% off day, when it was the week before. It seems the email flyer, speaking with roomies and the rest of the event was totally scripted to be the wrong fucking day altogether. I find this out only today when taking the bill back in and the cashier checked the date and is was July 04, not June 27. A major supported jerkaround to fool me into "thinking" it was a 20% off Wednesday.

toilet plugging stunt, and then the landlady crisscrossing my path when I was cleaning it out, she timing her shower just when I wanted to go in. Like WTF; she is living downstairs with a shower down there, so why did she need to use the bathroom on top of me?

via email, after two phone conversations about setting up a dental appointment for Aug 02 in Victoria BC, I later learn that the dentist won't be in. Like WTF; they have themselves planned out for a year or more, and the dentist was said to be availible to do the fillings she tagged me with (an estimate) as I was about to go, not mentioning anything when I was in the chair getting my teeth cleaned in April. Then the next day, poof, the dentist is not availible.

And said dental receptionist phoned me when I was in my vehicle in a 60kph section, and I was doing the speed limit, when this dude in a big truck passes me on a hill. Like WTF; I was doing the speed limit, and no one passes there because one cannot see anything coming. Anyhow, an exciting moment for the perps, as it is illegal to use a cell phone in ones vehicle except for hands off communication devices. As I get no more than four to siz x calls per week, this must of been a major set-up for whatever perp reasons there are.

back to toil among the vines, getting the laterals plucked out, minor thining of shoots, and now leaf plucking. It is laborious and takes a day to do a row; perfect music player work. Except that the perps decided to run the aircraft at a lower elevation so they could be heard at the correct volume through the headphones. One was a small private jet, having done at least two prior passes overhead in the last few weeks, and is a rare bird to be in this town.

Three weeks of finally getting through to an automotive accessories supplied finally ended. A phone call, without being put on hold. All my web purchase attempts blew up on the final page, and their support personnel contended it was fixed when it wasn't. The online attempts ended finally when their systems support sent me a questionaire about the service level, and I sent it back detailing my woe. I even wrote in, "past caring that any fix will be undertaken" and never heard a peep from them. Funny how they put some organizations through a faux apology show, while others are allowed to drop contact altogether.

music on android phone, headphone on, and lo, if the same bizjet doesn't do a low pass overhead, ensuring that the same noise volume from the same source reaches my ears (as background noise coming through the headphones) while listening to music. Some kind of noise-music correlation to noise source going on it would seem.

Saturday, and in the vineyard, no working today, per regular schedule. On with laundry and then a forced "forget" about it for at least 1.5 hours. I was online in the meantime, and had the Android phone playing music, and then it suddenly crashed, telling me emergency calls only. Like WTF; the battery was fine (the usual exploitation and sabotage excuse), the Telus network was fine (was online with same network), and so the timing of events seemed so curious. The Beatles (all #1 hits) had just finished playing on the Android phone, the Bill Hilly Band had only played for a minute or less, when the phone crashed bigtime. So... maybe those Beatles tunes had something in them, and they wanted to force me out of my chair to the kitchen where the raw foodist was making a barch of kale, watermelon and mango juice, (totally delicious as she offered me a sample) and have more interpersonal contact/engagement while putting my laundry in the dryer, and consuming the said blender drink. The moment was also marked by the landlady walking around in the backyard 40' away while on her cell phone, the typical EMF event stalking I have come to know and loathe the sight of, these ten years of abuse and harassment. The landlady isn't the dumbshit she makes herself out to me, with these sudden eruptions of perp abetting activity a key perp reserarch moments. (Above mentioned crisscrossing my path and shower event as another example).

I am still on "shit refugee" status; another trip to the mall brought a phalanx of red colored vehicles to lead and tail me there. My 6-wide dude escort in the parking lot was all wearing their oversized shorts to ensure they looked stupid, and the fat folks at the food area seemed so arranged. And too, they had me bleed in the toilet paper, keeping up the red color exposures. Afterwards, the LD store beckoned as I was out of chocolate, and the expensive skin cream they like me to get. My red shirted tail was on my ass for two aisles, then the brown skinned woman took over to engage in two reprise stalkings, and finally "ending up" ahead of me at the cashier. She made sure to tarry and putz around at the checkout after she had paid and got her handbag together as well. Protracted activity ahead of me at checkouts is nothing new these last ten years of concerted harassment fuckery. As is every financial transaction I make, even writing out a check and mailing it. And so it goes, another day in fucking hell.

Then having empited my briefcase to take to the sewing shop, and somehow missing it while knowing its address and the street block I was in, I found out they were closed Saturdays. Nice of them to mention it (NOT) when I spoke with them on the phone. The Andiamo briefcase has been very useful, especially in the days of having an office job when I first bought it in Lynnwood WA in 1999. When the abuse started up in 04-2002 one of the first things they sabotaged was to destroy the D ring so it could not be slung on my shoulder. It sent to Andiamo and I bought a substitute bag that was nowhere near as good. Plus, the perps used this as an excuse to scramble my head while attempting to recall where all the items were stored in the bag. I had never had any problem remembering where all my items where in the Andiamo briefcase, so why this sudden recall lapse when the same items were in a different bag with slightly different configuration. But as this was the time the assholes forced me into hospital with the aid of my then-thought friends, they seemed to want me to have the same belongings in this substitue bag. Later, during this episode, an E. Indian "patient" stole the bag and other clothesuntil I complained to the nurse and she retrieved nearly all of it for me.

And so this storied briefcase saga continues; I never had much use for it for (non-office job years) since then (12-2002) until 2010 when I took Oracle 11g upgrade courses, 2x/week. I had my freaks and wierds on the bus of course, and at the start of classes the main zipper "failed" at one corner. It was a two-way zipper so I used the other side only, as two thirds zipper coverage remained. And now in 01-2012 I am about to begin more schooling, this time in viticulture, and lo, if the other zipper doesn't blow before the first class, leaving me to use an ersatz bulldog clip to hold it closed. And now, some three months after the course, I am now allowed to attend to getting it fixed, closed-store Saturdays aside.

But even getting this far was an accomplishment; when I moved into this roomie house I asked the landlady if there was an industrial sewing shop in town. She gave me the phone number of her friend who had started up a with an industrial sewing machine, and I left a message. Three weeks later I hadn't heard and I phoned again, and I was told the person had spoken to my landlady to say they did not have an industrial sewing machine, and to try XYZ. Like WTF; the landlady had the premise exactly wrong (disinformation) and then didn't tell me that it wasn't doable (information obstruction). Not bad for an apparent klutz that I am begining to suspect might be much more steeped in this bullshit than the average bozo-klutz act. And so it goes, this time over a briefcase they like to sabotage, this being the second round in over ten years. And if you can exptrapolate the above briefcase sabotage to nearly all one's possessions, you get the idea as to how invasive, abusive and relentless this insane human nonconsensual human experimentation goes on a daily basis.

A dull day for the remainder, (after a morning shopping trip), being kept inside mostly. I was game for getting tourist advice on hiking areas, but somehow, I "forgot" until I was driving past the tourist bureau and turning around was deemed to complicated. The perps just love to arrange scenarios and then have me "forget" (read, remotely dithered recall), only to see the object of recall too late. These arranged "forgets and too late reminders" are arranged at least 20x/day, a whole new never-before memory degradation they like to put me through. Onto posting this.

Saturday, July 07, 2012

Volvo Modfications

A laid back Sunday day off, and only until now (1530h) do I feel at a loose end. I got taken down almost immediately after lunch for a two hour nap-attack. I didn't need the sleep at all, but for some reason they wanted me prone and sleeping. And some will say, more psychically accessible too. Could well be as the perps like to time other's in my proximity to having naps.

And then there is the Volvo nonsense witnessed for the second time this week. An 850 sedan was hit from behind and underneath, possibly from a lower bumper, and dented the trunk and raised it up about 3" to 5". They put it on show (parked) when I drive by each day on my way to work, arranging it in profile, seen from the side with the raised (whole) rear trunk. Now it is no question I like the look of that Volvo model, sedan or wagon, and I would of bought one if I could of found one the time I was vehicle shopping in April. But it wasn't to be, a mid-grey Toyota Camry instead and it has done me well so far. Said damaged Volvo was on the vehicular gangstalking circuit this morning when I was headed off for shopping, driveable with its rear trunk damage. All I can assume from this arranged nonsense is that they wanted me to see this particular vehicle with its rear end misaligned, and the whole rear body line out of whack. As for why, I don't know, but the perps consistently test my vehicle form/look reactions, and when a vehicle looks attractive and when not. Of course there are no end of variations, as vehicle models change from year to year, and it does seem they focus on rear end looks of late (the last year). Anyhow, there isn't a Vovlo dealer in town, and not many of them, so it just seems to be this sideline that the perps persist in for whatever reason.

I went to yoga this morning, a drop-in class, and I see they are populating it with more dudes, now four from a previous one. The usual heavy breathing/wheezing dude wasn't in class, but strangely he was walking past carrying his umbrella in the then-torrential rain. It is not uncommon for the perps to plant someone in close and have them progressively back off. I his case it was next to me in the first class, half a room away in the second class, a whole room away in the third, and now, this fourth time, he only passed by the building when I "happened' to arrive.

A new blonde instructor today, in keeping with the perp's instructor swapping games. And the infernal tattos were on display; one particular horrid all-arm and partial torso tattoo on a woman was two persons away. The woman in between us was on partial blocking duty so I wouldn't see this disgusting tattoo in full. The to the L side, the woman next to me had some smaller inside arm tattoos, and a woman four mats away wore a shirt that looked like tattoo patterns (skin color, with deep blue markings on it). Again, we have the perps and their infinite abusive insanity pissing around and setting up tattoos, partially blocking them, and tattoo emulations. All because I don't care for tattoos, and whose business is that? My own one would think, but no, it is a ten year long insane abusive tyranny they have imposed to find ot why I loathe tattoos (among other things).

And speaking of loathings, aka the Unfavored, this one residential block of houses has sprang three HD motorcycles in the last week, all of them on show as some kind of prop the perps want me to see. I don't care for their noise one bit, but for the most part they are arranged for me to see. One overwrought chromed motorcycle, two houses away, was parked on the front yard this morning when I set off for yoga. Presumably it was there all night, as that is where it was last evening. And I know from motorcycle owners that its prominent display is essentially asking for it to be stolen as they are much coveted if in good condition, which this one is. And as the perps have also been insanely beserk over arranging motorcycles around me for over ten years, knowing I loathe the HD noise, why are they doing this? Perhaps if they allowed me to retain the deleted memories they did when aged 2 to 5 y.o., I might know. So on this national Canada Day holiday/long weekend, you are hearby informed that some citizens are not allowed to have recollections as to what abuses (I assume) were done to them. A free country, my ass. And or that matter, perhaps the world.

The new roomie is a 50+ y.o oversized woman doing an internet businesss directory for this city (apparently). And she has wasted no time in hanging around me in the kitchen, "happening" to be there at 0635h when I was there having breakfast. And again when I came back from yoga, the perps conveniently fucking me out of putting my laundry in the dryer before yoga and forcing another kitchen visit. Soo... nothing new there, per expectation.

A day of tucking shoots on the vineyard; just tucking, not other major work like thining them out, except for the obvious ones. And since then, the perps have been playing flashbacks of shoots in my visual field, about every ten seconds or so. And especially when screaming infuriated at the assholes preventing me from quartering the quesadilla I made for dinner. Not that it was audible, but they had me just as annoyed if I had.

I have been shoot tucking for the past three weeks and never had flashbacks of shoots to any degree until today. Perhaps it was the added harassment that they thought would be a synergistic screwover; read on.

And all day long, the perps played irritable bowel syndrome on me, creating various unpleasant sensations without any visible result. What a way to spend the Monday of a long weekend, equivalent to July 04 in the US. This was relieved at day end by being the "shit refugee" and unloading at the washrooms in the mall. The usual extra gangstalking activity around me, including some dipshit bag who almost piled into me when I was exiting. My "lead me there" gangstalker also "happened" to be ahead of me when I exited. No doubt shit resonance between me and the gangstalker assholes is very much part of the agenda. And too, having me eat extra chocolate these days.

The daily crumb inundation went over the top this morning. I get crumbs around me all the time, from a putative source, but far in excess of the conventional normal (before all this harassment began). The last roomie was a classic; he had toast most mornings and there were at least 50 crumbs around the toaster. He was engaged with a pissing match with the landlady, so he felt he didn't need to clean them up. And so the sat there all day until the landlady cleaned them up.

Today's crumb-fucking games took on a new turn, as they were teleported in just to bug me. I was at the sink, cleaning dishes and had just finished up when three orange carrot crumbs arrived from nowhere. They were aligned in one direction, roughly N-S, and spanned a length of 1.5". One crumb was on the yellow formica countertop, the middle crumb was on the exact location the steel kitchen sink flange met the countertop, and the third crumb was on the steel sink flange. So here we are, ten years into this insane relentless abuse, and the Fuckwits are arranging carrot crumbs by way of teleportational fuckery. Seemingly, this doesn't bother them one bit, to be viewed as totally idiotic rampaging juveniles with extra conventional powers.

Then the UPS imbroiglio/impasse took another turn; the local UPS store wouldn't take my parcel because it had COD charges on it. Like WTF; they have my parcel, and they would be charging me the COD charges when I pick it up, so what is the deal? I asked where it is and how can I pick it up and the woman UPS representative said she had no idea. I thought Loomis' non-service was outrageous, but this bullshit takes the cake.

And I see that UPS did deliver another separate parcel today, so maybe the perps needed me to go to the brown store to then "resonate with" (for lack of better term) brown cardboard at the UPS store. Or as a "warm up" for my visit to the UPS store tomorrrow, as they gave me the option to pay for the COD charge over the phone, which I did. Which begs the question, why didn't they tell me about this byzantine bureaucracy the first time I asked the parcel be re-directed to the local UPS store? And when I phoned the UPS store in advance of the parcel re-direction, why didn't they ask if there was COD charges on the parcel? All this erupted because the "hold for pickup" choice told me after the fact that the parcel would be held in another city 1.5 hours drive away. Just call it more parcel delivery obstruction, and it may be related to the "browning around" games that have gone on since the start of this abusive fuckery 04-2002.

And when will UPS finally get it, and not go through this ritualistic nonsense of delivering when I know I won't be there to accept it? Have an option when ordering items to permit hold for pickup instead of this constant nonsense of attempting delivery when it is in not doable. I just don't get it, save the "browning around" behavior directed by the perps. And it is always curious that I get extra parcel delivery van gangstalking after each time I recieve a parcel.

The coffee grounds mess on the stove got me cranked up, though not audibly out of respect(?) for the roommate situation here. I was spooning fresh grounds into the pot, and lo, if somehow, a two pea sized amount didn't self eject from the top of the spoonful and land on the stove. No hand movement of any kind contributed to this near-instant coffee mess, and no shakey hands either. Typically they will force my hand to move as the apparent cause of the coffee mess, but not this time. Just plain assed teleportational abuse.

Another day of tucking vines in the vineyard, just it, and no other activities like shoot thining, leaf removal, lateral removal and top clipping. The sun was out, and eventualy it became warm, though not too warm. We are due for a week of sunshine after a soggy June, running to July 03.

I suppose yesterday's rain was the culmination of perp games, as the rain forced me to use my raingear for the first time in a month, as it had come back from the drycleaner's five days ago, and we know how the perps like to piss with laundering and all its variants. Hopefully the summer will get to normal, though I not optomistic even if they pulled a bad summer last year in this region. Many of the red grape varietals never got picked because they didn't have sufficient sugar.

As a nice send off for the day, the perps ensured I ended up with dog shit on my L.boot, the first 2" toe portion. So another delay in departing, never mind getting the smell jammed up my nose.

Then the now-usual shit-at-the-mall on the way home, me as a shit refugee as they don't like me to do it at home. My shit-stalkers arrived either side of me while in the cubicles, plus other noises. This time I was lead there by two young girls in same blue t-shirt and black short shorts. Much better that the granny parade I seem to get.

More vine tucking today, and all day. All six acres has been tucked twice now. Sunshine in the am when I had my shirt off, but intermittent in the afternoon when I had my shorts on (shirt on again). Plenty of noise eruptions when I put on sunscreen as usual, and when changing clothes. Yesterday was cleaning day at the house, and at about 1000h when I went to put on shorts, why, egress to the bathroom was blocked by the very large cleaning lady. (Same one who was doing bend-over games about a month ago in similar circumstances). So where to change? Why, outside on the covered veranda area with a commanding view of Skaha Lake and the mountains behind.

And it was my very first day as a "iTune-out", one of those farmworkers (or any person) listening to personal music while working. After the weeks long pissing match to get FLAC files playing on my wretched Android phone, it has finally culminated in playing music while I work. These are over-the-headphones, and so some conflict with wearing a hat too, as yet unresolved. (Worse yet, I could wear a ball cap to have my ears accessible to the headphone. I loathe ear buds). IT wasn't as simple as that of course; two female vocalists were given short play, but the male blues-zydeco singer was given full album length play.  And the rotation order was messed up

The vineyard neighborhood noise has taken a new turn. The adjacent larger vineyard has had its equipment shack demolishined, two white shipping containers arranged at roadside for lockable storage, and they are busy putting in foundations and forms. In other words, the very common farm neighborhood noise I call "tap attacks" has semi-legitimate causal. This construction work is the putative reason, but each time I hear the 1x/second tap of a hammer I have to laugh, as what self-respecting builder would be so slow in hammering, and is still using a hammer when air nailers are the construction norm. Yes, I know a hammer can add the right amount of force to move an object (e.g. foundations), but the slow methodical once per second tapping noise has followed me for every farm I have worked in for the last five years. Most often there is no evident construction at all.

Still not out of the Android woods yet; the Songbird player started up by itself when the PowerAmp app was playing. Quite the feat, two music players sounding off at once.

And the essential fatty acids diet testing is still running; after over a month of taking four fish oil capsules at the first break, and four more at lunch, Mon. to Fri., why, the perps had me "forget" all about it when making up lunch this morning. No good habit goes unsabotaged, even if they groom on the habit in the first place.

Stinging eye torture while driving back, causing me to change my intinery. Instead of visiting UPS store to sort out their imposed imbroiglie, I went to the share house to take a shower. When turning off the highway they obliterated my vision for a few seconds and then some horrid indescribable brain scrambling irradiations while turning off the highway. They pulled this abuse sequence once before and all I can say is that is absolutely immobilizing, worse yet, while driving in traffic.

I am 58 today, and look younger than 38. Lines that formed when I was 33 y.o. are now gone. Most of the age regression was done in 2004, though they have been at it again in the last year.

A hot day on the vineyard, mostly sunny, and maybe summer has come at long last after a double average rainfall for June. I was doing more shoot tucking, putting the shoots between the trellis wires to contain them in a vertical plan. Also called the Vertical Shoot Positioning (VSP) training system, although it requires much human effort to get the shoots vertical, as they are prone to spill and flop in any direction.

I got to listen to music from my Android mostly without a problem, but there has been some unconventional player behavior to keep me wary that it can fuck up at any moment, e.g. getting a new album instead of the next song. Today I was playing the Eva Cassidy playlist I have, some 78 songs that kept me going for much the morning. The perp control drift is that they want me to listen for 2 to 3 hours but not the full work day. This afternoon without the player or headphones they applied the sensation that the headphones were on my head, but they weren't. In other words, they could remotely detect the particular sensation of this new headphone pair (less than a week old) when listening to music, and then replay this identical sensation later when they weren't on my head. All I had to do was to move my head quickly in a (seeming) random direction and the sensation diminished. Once my head was reasonably still again they re-applied this same headphone wearing sensation. A Happy birthday treat from the Psychopathic Confederacy.

Other perp applied BS was to keep me in a depressive state for much of today, and it is still going on. The games of promoting a certain product to purchase and then not finding it continues. For 2.5 years they have on this breakfast diet of coconut butter, which is delicious and beats out the rest of the nut butters combined. Artisana coconut butter is the best IMO, and I have had it on hand all the time, even in this new town. But now two stores are out of it, one with no alternate coconut butter brands. How fucking tiresome they are not only setting me up for the dashed expectations game (item not there), but also manipulating the source of my food supply. Just the usual, and they are still at it in ten years of insane sustained abuse, and a prior 48 years of covert life-long fuckery. What is this all about?

Speaking of which, why are some TI's getting a reprieve from harassment, and even know how long this hiatus will last. I have had the odd reprieve, for a few hours, no more than six times in this wretched existence they have imposed.

I had about 15 helicopter and aircraft flybys today, a little more than usual. To be fair, there is the Penticton Airport two miles away, but at least three aircraft made pointless circles or arcs overhead. They seem to like it that the helicopter underbelly light is on and it "happens" to be seen by me in mid-turn. A small jet came and did a 180 degree turnoverhead and then took off in the direction it came. Most odd to say the least, and it appeared not to be landing at the airport, especially having just come from that direction.

Last week they must of teleported a small aircraft some 200m away; it came out from behind a rocky knoll, not more than 50m clearance, in a climb. The interesting part was pondering how it got there, as there is a powerline behind the knoll. The pilot either took exceptionally foolish chances to make this low pass, or else he and aircraft were teleported at the point of climbing out of this hole behind the knoll. I never heard it coming in behind the knoll, so that is why it was a teleportation job. I see teleported insects, debris, vine leaves and tendrils in front of me all day long, and for the most part I have no idea as to how they got there, or in my way. Or else, they are blanking me out at the moment the object conventionally flips/slides/hops into view, and it appears suddenly to my remotely impaired perception. In fact, I think they are doing some of each, and there is some essential cosmic energetic difference that they are looking for via controlling all my neural cognition.

A later get-up as it is Saturday, and no vineyard work today.  The perps had me tired and in a blue funk yesterday evening, so no plans as to what to do, save a haircut and leg wax this afternoon.

Birthday wishes via phone call from my Victoria farmworker colleague last night; the ever chipper and don't-want-to-know platitudes again. This is the only person who puts themself out to make sustained contact, and it is forced to say the least. There is no way the perps would allow continued contact to persist over 1.5 years without their blessing/collusion. And that starts the guessing games; is she for real (a co-opted local with the right things wrong with them), a scripted operative, or a morphed-over version of someone else I would know, say Ms. C from the story. And as usual, I don't know, and don't care but am not allowed to have the luxury of independent thought, and this wretched unresolvable topic comes up far more than it would if I weren't in the grasp of the techno-Fourth Reich.

Laundry coincidences again; the downstairs tenant has moved out and his bedsheets were laundered by the landlady and draped over the garden chairs in the backyard to dry. And it just happens to be the day that I launder my bedsheets for the first time in this shared residence. And no less, is the inaugural use of a new laundry detergent, somehow "needing" to move away from the usual Woolite.

The haircut and full leg wax treatment again. This time the wax from two blondes; the one last time with a faint-ish unnatural red streak was updated with a 2" wide bold red swath to the roots. The other a seeming trainee was a yellow straw blonde.

The one who cut my hair was a reddish-brown with silver foil in her hair, as part of a treatment she was doing. I have seen it before, but cannot claim to know what it is for. Then three identical colored, sized and built negroes were on the other side of the hair cutting station. First there was one, and he did a pose through the divider in a grey singlet and shorts, and within a minute he seemed to be wearing a yellow top. Unexpected clothing changes aren't anything new to me, and that is what I thought it was. But no, within a minute it was revealed that there were two, with the same hair. Later another same negro "happens" to end up in the pose mode, this time with dreads. The way it seemed it was a triple negro haircut show at the same station. Later, while in the waxing area, they were doing restless full store-width walks for whatever reason. They were there for 40 min. or so, until the three of them walked out in file, identically sized and built, even more than brothers. As to who and why this negro show was arranged I have no idea, but as they are extremely rare here, and were all the same sized and height, I can only assume this was arranged for me to see their colorful outfits at various distances and also through the semi-transparent curtain of the waxing area.

And lo, when I exited the building after my waxing, why, another negro standing around on the sidewalk and looking stupid, as would any highly conspicuous gangstalker. Maybe it was for daylit conditions, and he in the shade of an awning of an abandoned building.

Enough of the Unfavored and and the ridiculous show that continues around me seeming to invoke abreactions that may have arisen in the memory blanked years, aged two to five. Not my problem if I have subconscious recall reactions to adverse treatment and abuse. As mentioned many times, the Indian Lake Project has pictures of children stuffed in cages, some negro, some blind, some Caucasian. The timing of this abuse at the hands of military personnel fits the same memory blanked years, so who knows, but the Perps, aka, Fourth Reich. Not until more of the pics are posted can I hope to know, and that could be a long time yet, given the owner is under surveillance with the black helicopter visitation and a dead rat on his newspaper outside the front door.

So to post this now.