By the time you read this, the 15th anniversary of this imposed hell will have transpired. That is to say, when I became aware that I was followed, harassed, remotely neurally monitored and controlled to a significant extent. (Now, 100% complete). Though, it seems that I have been covertly monitored, controlled and orchestrated since birth. And the Day of Infamy was just their way of going overt, and escalating the abuse. Or as I ascribe it, berserk and overt. It still astounds me that they would hound the literal shit out of someone for 15 years now, when they had been covertly orchestrating and messing with the victim (me) for the prior 47 years. Why cannot they come out of the closet, make a deal, and complete their research expeditiously?
Though I suspect that the reason might have to do with "sneaking up" on human cognition from a psychic perspective, especially when humans take measurements, and thereby bypass the "measurement problem" of quantum mechanics, whereby the observer is implicitly part of the event. Another clue, possibly related, is that in Hugh Everett's multiple worlds theory, (Wikipedia -with usual caveat, dense read version, readable version) is that a new world is created when one measures or decides something. (Which might explain why the perps so like to hound my ass when I measure something, or even estimate something, or make a decision). But of course we don't see all these worlds, so where do they go, or do they immediately collapse in some kind of "mathematically consistent theory of a universal wave function" the perps want to discover. Don't know, don't care, mostly because I don't have the smarts to put this together. And too, learning disabilities might play into this, if nothing else to cause a delay in comprehension= a differential timing of the cognitive determination of the same meme, and possibly making it asymmetric.
The gory details of their tyrannical onset are in the story (27pp) I re-read part of it recently, and I have "forgotten" a few of the details since, especially someone fixing the front end of my vehicle at the time. Though in hindsight, they didn't need to fix anything; all noise and vibration can be remotely manipulated as I since came to learn. Nor did they need to move my vehicle, to add to the notion that they took it away and fixed it. Said vehicle, my 1986 Volvo 245 was given to my daughter in 2006, and she let it sit in the driveway and didn't use it as far as I could tell. Then she sold it a year later. I never did ask her to whom; perhaps the assholes who run the Gangstalk Hall of Shame.
Never was a vehicle more followed, more subject to extra-conventional weapons and technologies. They even burned a few round spots in the seats. They could even unlock the doors (electric locks) remotely. They could even put the vehicle into reverse while driving forward, unbidden by me, and with no transmission damage no less. At this juncture they were on my ass on the highway (though not with gangstalking vehicles oddly), and a return route presented itself, (and the notion of taking it was planted in mind), and I thought, screw it, I will keep going. Then suddenly the vehicle suddenly decelerated and then went into reverse. I kid you not; its as if the wheels were disconnected from the drive train. By then, I was familiar with Them, and said "OK, I will take the return route", did not move the gearshift and the vehicle proceeded forward at the appropriate speed. I turn off and there is all this snow all of a sudden, and I proceed along with trepidation. At one point I come to a T intersection, and the text and font on the sign was so uncharacteristic that it was like out of Psycho, that I turned around and proceeded back. On the way, there was a highway maintenance truck full of snow. I still don't know what all that was about, but there was absolutely no other snow on this two hour highway drive or at higher elevations.
And upon re-reading the story, (27pp) I see that Ms. C was much more influential in freaking me out in advance of the apartment invasion than I was allowed to recall. Third party references like "that wasn't supposed to happen" and "oops, I didn't mean to say that" more than once were decidedly for setting me up to be totally anxious. Just to think, this same perp operative/asshole pours on the romance a year later, saying that she really loved me etc. and was really serious about a long term relationship. (I was now living in another country and run out of a job). This took me by total surprise, as she was such a confrontational drama queen at times. On my next US visit the perps dashed that possibility by having the US Border Patrol point their guns at me for no reason and give me this bullshit rationale that could of been conveyed at the desk on a piece of paper. Needless to say, Ms. C didn't come to visit me in Canada, so after a few years of lovey-dovey phone calls and emails of diminishing frequency that bullshit was dispensed with. (A few doppelganger sightings were in order though). Another one of those over-the-top stunts to leave me shaking my head, and yet again, asking "what was that all about".
And so as I type, my fingers don't always go to the keys I intend, and I have been keyboarding for over 40 years now. It is very infuriating not to have control over one's fingers. And my constant "companions", masers and plasma projections constantly float in and out of my vision. Masers are blackish blobs, sometimes beams, and are the magnetic equivalent to laser beams. Plasma beams come off anything and anybody, and can replicate patterns, say venetian blinds, except that the projected image will have the wall behind it and the venetian blind pattern is often in another color. All these light phenomenon are transitory, maybe a second or two at most, most often subsecond.
As far as I can tell, I am kept in a densified magnetic field, measured some 1800Gauss in 2009. Back in 2002, the Year the Perps Went Beserk/Overt, it was 180-200Gauss on industrial measuring equipment. (The measuring thing again). Interesting that they let me "discover" this aspect by having a hand compass behave strangely.
And what is it about being stalked by Asians that was so important tonight at SOF supermarket? I do my usual evening time visit to avoid the gangstalking crowds, and sure enough, there were fewer stalkers around. But an Asian woman and another man were closing in on me as I entered so I took an alternate route in the produce section. She was there in stun-out mode looking up after that, having retraced her path for some curious reason, and lo, if she didn't suddenly come at me to cross my path. Like WTF; from coming at me, to retreated, to standing dumbstruck and then coming at me again, al inside of three minutes of shopping.
I then checked out the new wine section at this supermarket, (alcohol sale laws change slowly in these here parts), and this time an Asian male was on my ass. The "stand in the way" stunt, while pretending obliviousness, and then he tails me once past him. So I decide, fuck it, I will go around to the other side of this divided aisle, and then this Fuckwit tails me and takes a shortcut through the tasting section to get on my ass again while feigning to be shopping by looking up, instead of at me while barreling toward me. So I move along and he tails me down this second route. So screw it, I bail on visiting the wine section and go to the self-checkout. So what was the whole deal about putting the extra obvious tail on my ass? Was it to limit my dopamine response to a whole new (interesting) section of the store? Seems that way; given the insane perp preoccupation with my dopamine state. And what is it about Asians that makes them the most extreme, determined and unmerciful stalkers? One visit to Chinatown (Richmond actually) in Vancouver when the perps were on my ass big time in 2002 convinced me that Asians are the most totally rabid stalkers when they get the word. Something about being remorselessly dutiful when money is waved in front of them perhaps, not to mention currying favor for later work possibilities. They are the most mercenary lot I have come to know in this sordid brutality.
A wet day in the vineyard, tying down vines all day. (Wet or cold = no headphones, therefore no music to listen to). As usual, the forced finger fumbling and freezing, tool dropping and other snags and hang ups came on, and all the more so when near the end of a row. I cannot quite figure out why three of the crew are creating more work for next year by adding extra mid-cane ties that will need to be removed by Jan-Mar 2018, next year's pruning season. The deal is that one wraps the cane around the horizontal trellis wire and then ties the end of the cane, where there is no bud. That way, one tie does the job. Three of the crew are tying down one or two more places along the cane which threatens to girdle the cane for the 2017 growing season. There were countless ties to pick out while pruning. I never got a straight answer as to why they tied the canes in mid cane last year; all was said in response to my question was, "you weren't here". No I wasn't, but how does that explain anything? It doesn't, and nor is there any explanation for doing it wrong for the second year in succession. There is something about tying down canes the perps just need to discover. And how many thousand years of viticulture has there been, and it is likely the perps were sitting behind this from the get-go. And I did notice masers for the first time floating off the ties as I tied them down on the cane ends today.
Further evidence that the whole thing is rigged; the rest of the crew walked off after getting the call for lunch, and none of them even looked or passed on the message to me, being 40' (at most) furthest away from the next guy. Like, two months ago we all made sure everyone heard the call for break time, even if down slope and 100' away, and I even got a phone call once. Today, nothing; everyone else including the crew boss just trots off. I did NOT have headphones on or any other aural impairment, so what gives? I have seen more than a few of this organized "herding", where I get defaulted to the pre-selected row, often when someone curiously leaves a gap for no apparent reason. That is, they arrive at the row ends ahead of me and instead of taking the first available one, they leave one for me. Weird.
Yoga; back to packing the place again. I go early, and folks are now arriving earlier. The arts dude came in a the last minute to block my direct view of the dishy instructor. The dude-in-the-way-of-the-view-of-the-babe stunt is so tiresome, as it is predictable.
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By 1000h I was able to remove my ski jacket as it finally warmed up in the vineyard. By noon, I removed my scarf. And no less, in this highly constrained abusive straight jacket I am kept in, I was allowed to listen to music on my portable player. Though not without fuckery; someone somehow put it on random play which I totally loathe unless it is a single album, which it wasn't at the time. Then the wrong album played, and I checked it again, and the displayed album was what I selected. And so it goes, this insane relentless sabotage over music reproduction, and most intensely, portable music reproduction.
Another sabotage strike, this time over lighting, specifically, a reading light. My perp abetting mother bought this for me in 2015 as a Christmas present and is made by a company that specializes in reading lamps, and with color balanced daylight bulbs. A one year warranty, and the thing made it 2.1 years, before the ballast crapped out. The light didn't make it past one year. Back and forth with the manufacturer and it "happens" that the ballast is non-replaceable. Like WTF; I expected a whole lot better than the crap Ikea lighting that doesn't make it past one year, and all I got was an extra year out of the deal. Further emails got me some lame-assed excuse about not selling the replaceable ballast (which I was planning to gerry-rig) when they surely did, per web pages.
And we know who just loves to fuck with lighting, and all the more if it is used for reading. The assimilation of information (epistemology) is of intense interest to the perps, as is the attendant lighting while reading. Which partially explains why these weird-assed gangstalkers are walking down the street reading a book for crissakes.
More strangeness of vineyard crew behavior today, the subtle kind. We walked over to a new block (of vines) in the afternoon and two guys were ahead of me and one disappeared, and the other starts the first row. I start the second row, and a following third guy follows in the third row a few minutes behind me. About 15 min. later, I see the single woman crew member in the third row who was well behind in the next block, and the guy who gave up this row to her is now in the fifth row, with the "disappeared" guy returning in the fourth row. All this row shuffling and no one says squat; just this ongoing subterfuge and the accompanying heads-down avoidance. At least they could of made a skit of it or something, even if a feeble one. But no, just this strange tacit collusion of nothing said.
Another day of tying down vines, this time in the rain. Heavy helicopter coverage today, this time starting with a big ~15 place Sikorsky. Then an hour later the Search and Rescue comes by with their distinctive yellow EH 101. Then another pass when they come back from the airport 30 min. later. More traffic from a local EC 135 later, timed when the afternoon commercial Q-400 passenger flight was coming in, in keeping with the fixed wing-rotary wing combinations they like to put on. With a helipad at at the winery I am sure they will be landing a few there in the coming months, bringing the rotary winged aircraft right to the victim's work area.
Don't forget the perps think long term on this aircraft stalking theme; back in 2012 recall that they put the Search and Rescue EH 101 (CH 149) on my McIntyre Bluff hiking route, having it hover just over the ground some 300m away in an open spot for 20 minutes. Some months later, after the aborted hikes from thunderstorms were over, I "discovered" this same location which became my tanning spot, and to which I have returned many times each year. It is off trail and I don't get stalked by ambulatory personnel, save overhead aircraft of course. In other words, they pre-selected the location I would routinely return to, and had a large three engine helicopter hover there at full power, which is very strange. Normally they look for a landing spot and set down, but to hover for 20 minutes only a few feet from the ground is strange.
No headphone use today for the rain, though 4 of the 6 of us were plugged into their earphones. For some reason the perps want to keep me on headphone use, and thereby, keep me weather dependent as to when I use them. As such, I predict the rainiest summer yet, as they so love to disrupt my music listening experience. Should I get earphones I suspect they will "malfunction" or else get plain uncomfortable, something the perps can gauge and control by remote means, impossible as it may sound. More than ever, my outside music listening is under overt governance, though inside they seem to let me listen often since they got their amplifier sabotage (2x) and subsequent delays done with in 2016. One of the crew warned me off of earphones, saying that it takes many attempts to get ones that fit.
Onto farm work; it wouldn't be the first time I have come to this conclusion, but I swear the perps are up to their infrequent games of doing our work while we are away on break. One guy was two rows over and proceeding in the same direction and was about the same row location, three "panels" (20' each, the span between posts) from the end. When we came back from break he tied vines for 5 minutes or so and then walked off to a new row. I checked out his row and it was complete. It seems "someone" (perps and their remote object manipulating games that is), had done nearly three panels in his absence, all to advance him some 20 minutes ahead of me.
This would not be the first time that farm work was mysteriously done over break time. The most unusual occurrence was the first day of my first farm job in 2008, picking daffodil bulbs. (Reported in this blog at the time). The crew of 20 or so took their first break in the bus, and when we returned the boxes had been stacked and placed in rows for truck pickup. It was most remarkable, as it had to been at least 80 to 100 boxes of bulbs were moved from the rows, placed to the side and stacked. I swear there was no party that came and did this, as no one was around, and it was the crew who were to do this work anyhow. Nothing like this happened for the next three years of bulb picking, but all the same, one cannot count on object permanence in TI World. Or this world for that matter, as determined by the covert machinations of Thems. Just to think of the possibilities, or more like, astounding ramifications; all such manual labor could be replaced by perp directed remote object manipulation. So why do they put humans through all this toil, and singularly backbreaking toil before the advent of engines, automation and hydraulics?
All dressed up for work and ready to go, and the call came that there was too much rain. I laid down for a while, and lo, if I didn't start feeling sick. Sure enough, the assholes had me puke up 2 hours after breakfast, brown colored it was. More lying around and then the call that there would be no work today.
At about 1100h the rain abated, and I set off to dispose of the reading lamp (per above), and two pairs of headphones that have been sabotaged. Another holy vehicular gangstalk; post rain, still with wet streets, but one would of thought it was a big city commute for all the road traffic. All that coverage to accompany me to the recycle depot to drop off the sabotaged items. (There must be a French suffix for this; sabotageail?).
Still more gong-show vehicular gangstalking levels on the way back, the assholes screwing me out of making a second stop concerning lighting. As in replacing the above mentioned reading light they took out.
The landlord came by and told me his tale of woe over keeping the house. (He and his wife live in a house on the property, I live in a separate carriage house, but the utilities are shared, no separate metering for me). It seems he wants to crank the rent up, and put it in terms of "helping us make a decision" about keeping his house or renting it out. Which would mean that he would have to coordinate the groundskeeping. And it would mean having some other party 60' away, and most likely a perp-selected disruptive one. (Read kids/dogs at my door or some such unconstrained yobbo behavior I predict). It has been a cold winter for sure, and I am never really sure where the landlord is coming from, as he has been known to cast BS in the past. Going back three years he said he would consider dropping the rent if my power usage was low. I didn't use the air conditioner much the next two summers and then he raised the rent. Given that he is a realtor, he is streets ahead of me in silver tongued skills.
A trip to the tanning salon was another high gangstalking event; a seeming convergence of freaks. An overweight fugly vagrant, two young women, one native Indian and the other Caucasian with huge holes hacked in her jeans, enough to see her underwear. And why on earth would a medium brown native Indian need a tan? And a black haired Caucasian woman preceded me into the salon. All too often they like to present deep black shiny hair, possibly related to the time I had a Newfoundland dog (all black, 1973-78) and the then-wife always slacked off on combing his hair, so I always did it. In other words, lots of deep black hair contact.
A day off, and I was finally allowed to get hiking at the trail head at 1200h, which absolutely pisses me off. I want to start at least 3 hours earlier, even if it is a 3 hour hike, and I haven't been able to do better than 1100h in the four years I have been doing this same hike. "Something" just comes up; today it was vacuuming this place, after getting up too late (10 hour sleep). The vacuuming was needed in part because I have been killing at least 20 ants a day during this high ant invasion season. The assholes even had one climbing around on the visor of my vehicle for crissakes.
And the usual cast of freaks on the trail; the dude swarm, the dudes-in-shorts pair (10C, crissakes), and the shirtless male when there was hail (and intermittent sunshine). Said Fuckwit was part of a couple that tailed me up and down, something highly unusual on this particular trail. But not unexpected in the sphere of being gangstalked all the time.
I learned that my work buddy of last year, with whom I had many interesting conversations, and who now works elsewhere, smashed his kneecap on a winery job. He has had surgery and has pins and his knee is totally immobilized. I maintain there are no such thing as accidents in my sphere, those who know, or once knew me. As they are in on this whole charade of having an orchestrated existence, so what kind of deal did they cut for that to "happen"? Don't know; perhaps there is a payments spreadsheet, based on the degree of victim (me) involvement, and in order beget higher payment (or opportunities) they get injured. The perps tell me one day I will be allowed to know, but who can believe them?
Anniversary of the Day of Infamy, aka, Total Life Invasion, and Onset of Relentless Abusiveness and Ruination. I worked today, to make up for the rain-out two days ago. All by myself as it turned out, being let in by the vineyard manager. A dull and boring day, pulling old tendrils off the irrigation lines and ensuring none of the irrigation hanger clips were missing. The weather let up mostly, and after 1000h I got to listen to my portable music player. That is always a benchmark of the harassment level, for whatever reason.
In the evening, I visited above colleague who has the repaired kneecap and a leg in a cast. It will be two months before he is on his own pins. I did the "care bear" thing; bringing him food, music and books. Plus that earthing pad that I cannot bear to use on my bare feet as they get too cold. It seemed like I was on autopilot the whole visitation, some three hours. Not the usual reflective and responsive nature of my normal cognitive self, such as that is in these circumstances.
And still I cannot get any empathy from anyone in having prostate cancer. He never asks anything, like "how is it going/looking?', but it is not just him. I haven't had any interest from my daughter in 10 months. What is it, some big joke that I am not in on? Call it empathy restriction and containment for now.
Said colleague "needed" to go to the jar store to get some alcoholic refreshments, as it is difficult to pack things when on crutches. I drove us there, and while there I got the two (gangstalker) dude pinch. A pair of them, and they split apart as if coordinated and then come from each side of this 8' display toward me and my colleague. One stopped, picked up a case of beer, the other came in close, "needing" to get to the same cooler case by managed "coincidence". He then tailed us on the way to the checkout. Said Fuckwits tailed us out the store, and then in their vehicle for a block.
And what is it about the perps screwing me out of taking my wallet when going out? They pulled this shit a number of times, but backed off to once/year for the last five or so. Now, twice in three days they pulled this shit. At least they didn't have me find out at the checkout, but one never knows what juvenile fuckery variations are coming down.
Another perp trick of considerable consistency is blocking me from videos when first wanting to see a new artist on Youtube. The notion (planted no doubt) to see GS of JA came to mind so I looked her up and selected one, and lo, if no audio would come through. Screw that, so the next day, I tried again. That the video took 10 minutes to load surely wasn't a fluke either, then it suddenly came on when I was browsing something else. Call it another repeat instance of the staged intro; delayed start, then first only visual, then audio only, then both together. This follows an unrelated DVD that strangely "failed" yesterday, freeze framing after watching it for 40 minutes.
Anyhow, enough of the litany of extra-conventional abuse in this Contained Universe.