Walking with fire.
(begun Friday 11th July at 2.45am.)

*Yeah, I know I'm going to get badly burned along the way, but I'm thick enough to give it a shot regardless..*
I'd scuttled out of bed at 2.25am, positive I'd had a mishap. I hadn't, but I'd changed anyways, and I was still sitting on the edge of my bed when Someone had donkey-kicked me at the base of my spine. Clinical detachment se GAT.. That vicious assault has to be enabled, and it reflects pretty poorly on the Sod behind it. Shame.

So here I am at the desk, bundled up in my winter woollies, and I've just watched the net curtains fill out as an icy breeze starts my nose running. Real or fake? I'd have to say artificial, as there's not so much as a leaf stirring on either the fiddlewood or the coral tree directly outside the window. Magic!
What had been laid on for us by the Mischief-Making department yesterday, it being a Thursday, and my Master being one for tradition? Once the GameWrecker was up and about he'd soon discovered that the DStv decoder box was deader than a dodo, and that Penny would have to do without the television while we were out.
No surprises there, for I believe I gave Koos Bekker a mention in my Wednesday FB update, and the Poor Creature next door had fallen on it with glee. As it turned out, my SO had figured out a while later that the adaptor had been nuked, and he'd replaced it, and the telly was good to go.

I'd headed up top solo as usual at around 8am, to go off to the shops. I was opening the gates when I'd spied a tiny white strip of paper on the driveway. A laser route-marker, so small? I'd picked it up to find it printed with the words A.K. Patel and a cell number. Sometimes I find my stupidity is almost an asset, and I'd allowed myself to be literally awash with delight at that lucky find, although the GW had told me later that scrap of paper had been under our gates when he'd let himself in, the evening before.
What do you say to that, Stephanovitch? There I'd been, whining that I had all the names and contacts of my neighbours, bar A.K. down at No 4, and Someone had gone to the bother of filling in the missing info for me. Sweet.

I'd been nearing the Jan Hofmyer bridge when my invisible companion had chosen to suddenly crank up the old womb gripper frequency and to keep those levels right up, but it had barely dented my sunshiny mood at all.
Why so disgustingly cheerful? Despite my bluster, I'm as prone to self doubts as the next idiot. *It's now 3.20am here at the desk, and Balliram has this minute chirruped his remote. No doubt just getting in from assisting in the physical torture of other citizens dotted about the suburbs*
So ja, some of the players have taken to creating fake Facebook pages in order to Inbox me, and one such had been Ashley Theamericanpatriot, who'd politely pointed out that the cloud picture I'd posted on Dane Wigington's wall in reference to the chemtrail spraying, was in fact simply a formation of cirrus, and nothing exciting at all.

Later that same evening, I'd actually questioned my sanity, and my insistence that we too are being sprayed, although not on the blatant scale being carried out in the USA.
By morning I'd remembered the three separate occasions I'd been outdoors under what had looked like clear skies, and had felt that drizzle-like moisture on my upturned face, and so 'Ashley's' efforts were after all, a failure.
I'd also gone hunting for that video clip I'd taken with the Panasonic back on May 5th 2014, of a plane crossing from east to west (or the other way round, as two months later, I simply can't remember) leaving a thick trail behind it. As it had been my first ever attempt at taking a video, I'd been mightily chuffed with myself, and had shared it successfully to a friend's wall at the time.

Lucky, as it turned out, as I seem to have mislaid the original from my files *wink.
'Ashley Theamericanpatriot, poor soul, had insisted that the skies above us were filled with planes, and that what we had seen were merely contrails. Bullshit, period. So you see, there I was, armed with renewed confidence, and what may or may not be A.K's contact number, and were'nt nobody gonna rain on my parade on that crisp winter's morning yesterday.

I'd been chatting to Professor Walker's wife at the Farmer's Market sometime later, and she'd mentioned they'd lost their power the day before. She'd said it was odd how the cut had affected so few houses on their street, and I'd naturally pricked up my old ears. Tightening up the monitoring screws on the Physics Professor Emeritus' home, are we? You can bet on it.
What about the young DA Councillor's life of late? Turns out they were heading off to the bush for a break when a sudden glitch hit their plans, and they've had to delay their mini vacation for a while.

Will they get away eventually? And were they to enquire at that Retreat when they do, would they find that some fairly extensive electrical upgrades had been done very recently? That, that remote getaway is now wired to the max for intensive monitoring, and has had several new large outdoor lights affixed to the walls of the establishment, and to it's outlying accommodations? You can run, but you cannot hide from the quantum intruders, hey Janneman?
Once you're tagged, they'll follow you to the ends of the earth, as Paul Doyon can attest.

We'd taken morning tea on the pavement outside the Glenwood Bakery yesterday. An area that's fully up and running with the quantum laser/wireless Project, and I've the pics to prove it. There'd been a great deal of coming and going in and out of a door next to the Bakery, and the GW had said that Blue Security had offices upstairs, so once we'd finished our tea, I took THIS picture for you, from across the road. What strange finish do they have on all those windows, FFS? Another form of laser repellant perchance? Tsk, tsk...

I'd been back home before 2pm, and at 2.20pm I'd booted up the PC and had fetched my video clip from my friend's wall, to post on my own page. I hadn't stayed long before shutting down and taking a nap.
At 7.45pm last night I'd booted up again, only this time there was no iBurst connection, so I'd watched a bit more telly instead, before heading to bed. Will the connection be back later today, or was it a last desperate attempt by a Loser to wipe the happy smile off my face? FAIL.
What's your case, FFS? I'm dancing as predictably as ever to your collective tune, as I scrabble about my ever-shrinking box.. As much as I try to entertain you, do I get smacked in some form or other, in return. Bah! Humbug!

I'd checked the churned-up ground below No.10 yesterday afternoon, to find the water has formed pools, with nowhere left to go, and last night someone had lit the top floor window nearest the Barnard Rd cellmast, at the not quite completed student res., as they strive to find the best signal point for the surveillance technology.
Wrap up warm and speak kindly to the invisible Saddos invading your home, for a sorrier bunch would be hard to find...

LATER on Friday at 8.45am
Still no iBurst connection. So I'd called our ISP (tradepage) at around 8.30am, and had spoken to the charming and always patient Hillary. I'd requested that kind lady to speak to Bruce Poole regarding our lack of an internet connection, and in particular the treatment their paying customer gets from our Project Area Controller Collin P. Balliram. She'd said that Bruce was out, but she would speak to the techs anyway, to which I'd replied that we needed someone with Poole's rank in this instance, so she'd promised to have a word with him.
I'd also muttered that if the Government considers me so subversive that their Agent may shut us down at any time he chooses, someone should have the decency to tell us officially. You like?
Are those snide grins back on your faces at the sheer futility of my efforts? FFS, at least give me some credit for my ongoing attempts to entertain you.

LATER at 12.05pm

The GameWrecker came out onto the verandah a short while ago, to say our iBurst connection had been restored, and I'd called tradepage to thank them. Tell me this, dear Balliram? Frederick? Can Bruce Poole anticipate any power outages in his home within the next few weeks? It's par for the course for you to take retaliatory measures against anyone who assists us in any way. Will Bruce recognise if his power supply begins to fluctuate wildly, and the nearby invisible laser recruits spend more time in his home than is good for his health? Has he upgraded his DB box to prevent losses? Does he have black drapes or glass to deflect the worst of the lasers?
Someone care to warn him for me, or have you ALL mislaid your balls forever?

Peace.

Friday 11th July 2014 at 3.08pm.