Doing his moo cow elephant dog act again.
(No, it’s definitely not Tourette’s. I did think so – or at least wonder about that – for a brief while.)
He is so pathetic. An hour or so ago, he was busy trying to blow up my phone again.
Weirdo. Wanted to see me in my bed?
I got up and switched my computer on instead.
Someone’s also been in my flat again, by the looks of it. I found the second page of a job application from just before Christmas under my bag and the next day, I found the first page. (Message: “I fucked that up too for you, like all the other efforts you’re making”, perhaps?) I am not 100% sure that someone deposited it there, under my bag, but I haven’t found a better explanation yet. At the time, before Christmas, I had seen that there were supposedly vacancies, but when I went online to look for it, there was nothing. So I dropped off an envelope at the place where I had seen that there appeared to be vacancies.
A big problem is that anyone who wants to employ me will have to hide me in order to shield me and thereby also shield themselves from interference.
As long as this nonsense continues, there isn’t a heck of a lot that I can do.
On Thursday, there was interference on my computer again and it got to me. On Friday, I visited the CAB – which was actually closed.
(9 May: It turns out that apparently I had spoken with a hired actor, for crying out loud, or perhaps more likely someone who is into this local shit too, but this discovery was not a big surprise. While I was there, I was told that the office was closed on Fridays, the door was locked after I stepped in and I was escorted back and forth through the building twice, like some kind of prisoner, really strange. But not only did I notice that the woman I talked with seemed to feel that she was playing some kind of act when she was writing down various things etc, and did she do something else that was either deliberate or a genuine accidental giveaway, I am pretty sure that I have seen her before and that, among other things, she was at my place, years ago, to drop off a dog for a woman who supposedly was in hospital for a month, in a similar stupid charade, involving a house in Shaftesbury Road in Southsea.
That was a similar bizarre exercise. It caused me to stop looking after other local people’s pets, also, because it was followed by a few really bizarre pet-sitting requests. There’s always been some cat/dog theme part of my abuse, such as currently some dog toy having been left on the patio and people yelling things about cats and dogs at me. It made me wonder if “walking the dog” was slang for a guy whipping out his penis, just like locals have often tried to use freecycle to make fun of me with other slang – for example about cages, printers and bed slats, two of which are sexual slang referring to a woman’s genitalia – but I could not find anything about dog-walking being sexual slang.)
Later on Friday, I bought a bottle of wine to drown myself in.
I am so fed up with this abusive shit.
But that, that is what these folks want to hear. That they’re getting to me.
Years ago, I posted the song “she drives me crazy” under the heading “he drives me crazy”, on an IT-related site for which I no longer own the domain name. I got a comment that that was exactly what “they” wanted to hear, what “they” were after. That they were driving me crazy. I had actually been joking at the time. Whoever the people are who are doing this, they have no idea. I am BORED! For over a decade, I’ve basically been able to do jack shit. That’s BORING. I’ve always been someone who likes doing tons of stuff. Sleeping all day or sitting in a sun lounger all day or climbing the walls day after day after day is not my idea of a good time. For starters, I like having normal interactions with other humans.