Ahh, screw the format. I’ll just post here to contain it in one place as it comes to me. I lie here in my hotel. Sometimes I think of relatively trivial matters compared to the recent tribulations: Í shouldn’t have prepaid my entire stay in this hotel. I should have taken it one night at a time’ I think. That may be wrong. There were some parts of the events of last night where my intuitions were gravely wrong. Both the hallucinations and the delusions offered insights:
Let’s star with the comedic, but totally non-chronological. One gentleman at a bar I stopped for some food seemed like mafia to me. It turned out he was a gay guy who upon noticing me, did the surrepticious gay secret ritual for wanting me to follow him to his hotel room. If I was in the mood and not drug-fucked, I might have obliged. Importantly, it’s unlikely that there would be an openly gay russian mafioso because of the homophobia among Russians and machismo of criminals. I noticed upon leaving that the bar was called Same Same and the servers came across as pretty gay.
So I was delusional. My insight fluctuated throughout the night but remained under a threshold. For one, I couldn’t will myself to consciously test items on scales of insight that I otherwise can vaguely remember if I’m primed with the memory. And indeed, during the peak of the trip I did WANT to test myself since it often increases my self-awareness: I just couldn’t do it.
During that peak: what felt like several hours but I later inferred was under an hour, perhaps about 330 minutes or less. I pleaded out aloud for anyone who might be able to here me to evacuate me to a psychiatric ward or hospital immediately. It was, in retrospect, looking for positives, a respite from the paranoia of losing my valuables that has burdened me for the whole trip. Nevermind that I could not reconcile my visual and auditory information, nor my olfactory sensory data with one another. In a sense it was a moment of highly intentioned high stakes reason: reason uninhibited by cachhed thoughts associated with typical familiar sensory input.
I assume the auditory information is hallucinatory. I was outside later and there was a dying beach scene. It wa already 10.30pm. Around 11.30pm when I go outside I can see there is a huge party happening. This relieves a lot of my anxiety.
The greatest relief from this hell was talking to people. After the hurdle of social anxiety was bounded, I landed in the real sanctuary: a safer, social environment. It took the group’s movemet into the party side of the beach filled with alcohol for me to return to my room, finally having some semblance of peace. I loathe recreational self-harm above such as alcohol and didnt want to be part of it.
I consciously thought through several rationality maxims given in the sequenes. I tried various techniques I had thought of too. They just pushed me deeper into the rabbit whole. My anxiety built while I found them to be rather useless in this context. How had it got to this? Before I was patting some nice cat that I can approached me while I sat on a bench up the road. I wasn’t at all scared of the dogs around me, including one missing a leg with a big bump on its head. I walked barefoot in quite an inappopriate place. It was a big downswing from when I literally hugged the beach sand. What marked the downswing to me was being shouted at by the Magic Mountain milkshake seller man. Or that’s what I remember remembering during my peak. It’s not clear to me if that really happened. I was very afraid thereafter and at the point was unsure what he was trying to tell me, but wasn’t able to figure out what to do to figure that out.
I waited to die. It was something to look forward too. I thought what positive I could: If I make it out of this I have nothing to fear of say torture: since at least I can know that is a finite thing with death as the end. I wasn’t even sure if perhaps this psychological torture is the real reality, and what I had known before was actually a disorted memory, or some kind of false dimension part of an infinite continuum of weirdness I was now in. At times, I suspected I am dead. At the time I was totally awarae these ideas were absurd. They felt absurd, but they also felt like useful working hypothesis to figure out how to play this game. I prayed to god. I tried closed eye visualisation to hallucinate meeting with god who then proceeded to tell me that he had no more left to teach you. It was underwhelming and I reckon it’s just my lack of creativity and pride speaking. I suppose it might be what they call çlose eyes hallucinations.
I went on brief mental journeys. Things were still positive at this time. It was supposed to be a time of healing, retreating to my room. But, it would be the lead in to the negative parts. The mental journeys culminated in me making a few notes:
My life is a fortress
This was based on close eye hallucinations where everything was blocky, including my eyes
Its okay to try hard
I don’t remember the story behind this
And you cab (sic) make the profound out of nothing and ritual
Relating to how I was identifying meaning in trivial things. This conforms with priors around semiotics and psychiatry.
I had been to hell and back: psychosis before without drugs. This was a reminder of what it could be like and importance of mental health..i know that this probably not cure depression, just brief serotonin boost, others have reported this, but now motivated to restart antidepressants and maybe antipsychotics
I’m just on drugs, I thought. But that didn’t really help. I thought maybe it wasn’t mushrooms. It was the right duration, but so does LCD and some RC’s. The dangers of the unknown substance really scared me. Also my history of mental health scared me in that it may have precipitated on ongoing psychosis, or HPPD.
I think about the phone monkey cliff mafia. They might be disinformants
Posts pop up on various facebook groups urging foreigners not to comment to the media, or speak to any outsiders until approval is given by key people on the island. Comments are deleted or self censored. There is an appearance of a wall of silence, either for personal safety, or to protect business interests. Various sock puppet accounts appear on online message boards such as Thaivisa.com attempting to derail commentary on the incident and the character assassination of the only witness begins.
Ahh, screw the format. I’ll just post here to contain it in one place as it comes to me. I lie here in my hotel. Sometimes I think of relatively trivial matters compared to the recent tribulations: Í shouldn’t have prepaid my entire stay in this hotel. I should have taken it one night at a time’ I think. That may be wrong. There were some parts of the events of last night where my intuitions were gravely wrong. Both the hallucinations and the delusions offered insights:
Let’s star with the comedic, but totally non-chronological. One gentleman at a bar I stopped for some food seemed like mafia to me. It turned out he was a gay guy who upon noticing me, did the surrepticious gay secret ritual for wanting me to follow him to his hotel room. If I was in the mood and not drug-fucked, I might have obliged. Importantly, it’s unlikely that there would be an openly gay russian mafioso because of the homophobia among Russians and machismo of criminals. I noticed upon leaving that the bar was called Same Same and the servers came across as pretty gay.
So I was delusional. My insight fluctuated throughout the night but remained under a threshold. For one, I couldn’t will myself to consciously test items on scales of insight that I otherwise can vaguely remember if I’m primed with the memory. And indeed, during the peak of the trip I did WANT to test myself since it often increases my self-awareness: I just couldn’t do it.
During that peak: what felt like several hours but I later inferred was under an hour, perhaps about 330 minutes or less. I pleaded out aloud for anyone who might be able to here me to evacuate me to a psychiatric ward or hospital immediately. It was, in retrospect, looking for positives, a respite from the paranoia of losing my valuables that has burdened me for the whole trip. Nevermind that I could not reconcile my visual and auditory information, nor my olfactory sensory data with one another. In a sense it was a moment of highly intentioned high stakes reason: reason uninhibited by cachhed thoughts associated with typical familiar sensory input.
I assume the auditory information is hallucinatory. I was outside later and there was a dying beach scene. It wa already 10.30pm. Around 11.30pm when I go outside I can see there is a huge party happening. This relieves a lot of my anxiety.
The greatest relief from this hell was talking to people. After the hurdle of social anxiety was bounded, I landed in the real sanctuary: a safer, social environment. It took the group’s movemet into the party side of the beach filled with alcohol for me to return to my room, finally having some semblance of peace. I loathe recreational self-harm above such as alcohol and didnt want to be part of it.
I consciously thought through several rationality maxims given in the sequenes. I tried various techniques I had thought of too. They just pushed me deeper into the rabbit whole. My anxiety built while I found them to be rather useless in this context. How had it got to this? Before I was patting some nice cat that I can approached me while I sat on a bench up the road. I wasn’t at all scared of the dogs around me, including one missing a leg with a big bump on its head. I walked barefoot in quite an inappopriate place. It was a big downswing from when I literally hugged the beach sand. What marked the downswing to me was being shouted at by the Magic Mountain milkshake seller man. Or that’s what I remember remembering during my peak. It’s not clear to me if that really happened. I was very afraid thereafter and at the point was unsure what he was trying to tell me, but wasn’t able to figure out what to do to figure that out.
I waited to die. It was something to look forward too. I thought what positive I could: If I make it out of this I have nothing to fear of say torture: since at least I can know that is a finite thing with death as the end. I wasn’t even sure if perhaps this psychological torture is the real reality, and what I had known before was actually a disorted memory, or some kind of false dimension part of an infinite continuum of weirdness I was now in. At times, I suspected I am dead. At the time I was totally awarae these ideas were absurd. They felt absurd, but they also felt like useful working hypothesis to figure out how to play this game. I prayed to god. I tried closed eye visualisation to hallucinate meeting with god who then proceeded to tell me that he had no more left to teach you. It was underwhelming and I reckon it’s just my lack of creativity and pride speaking. I suppose it might be what they call çlose eyes hallucinations.
I went on brief mental journeys. Things were still positive at this time. It was supposed to be a time of healing, retreating to my room. But, it would be the lead in to the negative parts. The mental journeys culminated in me making a few notes:
I had been to hell and back: psychosis before without drugs. This was a reminder of what it could be like and importance of mental health..i know that this probably not cure depression, just brief serotonin boost, others have reported this, but now motivated to restart antidepressants and maybe antipsychotics
I’m just on drugs, I thought. But that didn’t really help. I thought maybe it wasn’t mushrooms. It was the right duration, but so does LCD and some RC’s. The dangers of the unknown substance really scared me. Also my history of mental health scared me in that it may have precipitated on ongoing psychosis, or HPPD.
I think about the phone monkey cliff mafia. They might be disinformants
Okay I CBF writing up a trip report so notes are dumped here and here in case you want to read into them.