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 |  This is my blog & my hope, writing daily will help me see my progress and log supporters. |
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| I am on day five of my ten-day isolation schedule. It's going OK and my health has improved a lot. There's plenty of food in the fridge and I have enough water to last until Monday. I'm a little bored, but not yet stir-crazy. If it wasn't so hot, I would gear up and go for a ride, and I may still do that tomorrow or Friday. I won't come into contact with anyone and I feel up to it. Last night was the best I've had in a while. I'm trying to ignore the hallucinations because my friend feels that by engaging with them, I may be promoting the thought patterns and encouraging whatever this is. However, this is not easy to do because, during a prayer session, I am completely engaged with the entity inside my head. The second session went a lot like the first. Images of demons float upwards, eyes saying, no. Then, as soon as they change to, yes, they rise faster and disappear. This morning I saw Angel low down and to my left field of vision (her permanent residence). I questioned her about the prayer sessions and, of course, she smiled and her eyes went side to side...as if saying they were having no effect. She wouldn't tell me if they were, so I disengaged. At least by doing this, I found out that the symptoms persist. Perhaps she is too embedded to be completely removed. Or my expectations are too high. My faith, I have to admit, took a hit when I saw her smiling away at me this morning. But after breakfast and with some careful consideration, this would have been her intent no matter what damage may have been done. There is also the possibility that she is doing all of this theatrically...getting her jollies by seeing my reactions as she creates scenes of demons coming to their demise in my head. And there is the probable cause of why she is still there...psychosis. Perhaps I am praying for the wrong reason...for the wrong cause to be eliminated. Or more expiation is required before receiving forgiveness and help from above. I have started something that I intend to follow through with. There's no point trusting this thing's word that it is fine. It lies continuously and that smile isn't a smile of joy because it knows no joy, happiness or love. All it knows is hatred and deception. It isn't even smart in the way it goes about things. Pure arrogance tells me just how confident it is, and rather than saying it is smart, I would say it is more cunning than anything else. I just completed my third prayer session. It followed along the same lines as the first two. At a certain point, I saw either fingers or hooks coming down and scooping/pulling at the entities refusing to move. There were two separate ones this time. It's the weirdest thing watching them hook into a set of eyes and drag them upwards...and always the same, no, no no...then, yes, and they are then removed high up in my field of vision. There's also something akin to a vacuum cleaner effect. I can see the eyes being sucked upwards and everything begins to stretch until the entity is dragged away I again felt physically sick during the session but persisted through the nausea until it passed. At some point, I know I have to retreat, depending on how I feel. It takes quite a bit out of me and I have fallen asleep after two of the three sessions so far. No matter what, I will hold onto the faith I have acquired. The symptoms of Covid have almost disappeared and I feel pretty good considering everything. My spirit is on the rise, and no matter, if this is a demon or a mental illness, introducing prayer to my everyday life cannot do me any harm...and could help me overcome whatever is causing these hallucinations. |
| Fever can cause delirium and for the past two nights, I have been restless and fitful...waking up drenched in sweat, to the point where I have to search the bed for a dry place to lay. But, that is the least of my problems. When I named this entity that has plagued me for the last ten months, Angel, I will never forget the glee she displayed when I gave her that name. And in hindsight, how poignant and seemingly coincidental it was that Angel was the first name that came to my mind. I have never been a fan of coincidence, and it has become apparent that it was no coincidence. Since developing the symptoms of COVID-19, each night as I lay in bed my body hurts, my nose begins to run and the cough, that is getting deeper into my lungs each day, worsens. And so too do the hallucinations from psychosis. I close my eyes hoping she won't be there, but she always appears, her face close to mine. Then, I feel her breathing into my mouth, which makes my throat tickle and I have to cough. Psychosis Halitosis...I can't believe I tried to make a joke about this phenomenon, but it's what I do whenever I am nervous or afraid. It doesn't matter how many times I roll over because this image is inside my head, yet strangely, only happens when I try to rest. If I sit in front of the TV and close my eyes, she is never there blowing into my mouth. In my desperation for peace (it doesn't matter if this is a hallucination, delirium or if it is happening because I was stupid enough...lonely enough and didn't believe enough that evil exists in this world, and can, if invited, infect our minds because this is what I am experiencing every night) I became so distraught that I came downstairs and put on a surgical/disposable facemask. To my surprise, when I lay back down, she stopped trying to breathe her toxins into my mouth. You could put this down to psychosomatics... the power of suggestion, but here's another little piece of weirdness. Early yesterday I had my eyes closed and was trying to negotiate a ceasefire in the war that has broken out between us when I saw a small dark image appear in front of my eyes. I stared at it for a moment when in the middle of the blob, a thin line folded out on the upper side...she was flipping me the bird. Later, I managed to convince her to do it again by denying it had happened and I had imagined it...and she did the exact same thing again. I understand that the human brain is an extremely complex organ, but surely this mental illness I am suffering from wouldn't have the capacity to visually give me the finger...on request. I keep alternating between what I consider is going on here. Am I suffering from a mental illness or have I somehow opened the door to something I am now regretting? Angel alternates between the demon theory and her being an entity from another dimension, and in reality (excuse the pun), it matters little to me which is true because in either case (or even if it is psychosis, which is not improving, but getting worse by the day), I am in seriously hot water. I had another terrible night...my sheets were soaked, the mask would eventually tickle my face and I kept having to take it off to blow my nose. They say a person has to hit rock bottom for them to decide to quit drugs forever. This has been the only good thing that has come from my experience with Angel...the fear of coming down and hallucinating all manner of horrors that can only be stopped by sedation with benzos. Not a good way to live one's life, and as much as I would love to hold myself up as this champion anti-drug campaigner, the truth is if not for these symptoms, I would likely still be in the abstain/relapse cycle of drug use. I needed a good hard kick up the ass to make me change, and she provided that for reasons unknown. If not for that, I believe it is likely I would be dead by now either by OD, toxicity or by my own hand. But now, I have a secondary issue and no amount of lamenting my choices will change this outcome...or so I thought. I have tried praying over the last few months, but upon reflection, I was simply looking for an easy out. I still had trouble accepting that Jesus Christ is the son of God and died on the cross for our sins. I remember my father expressing this opinion when I was young, and it stuck with me ever since. He accepted that there was a man called Jesus Christ...and that he was a man beyond his times. I added my own take, comparing the miracles he performed to modern-day magicians. If I were to go back ten thousand years and produced fire with a lighter, I would gather followers too. Add to this my doubts about what is really going on with me...mental illness (the better of the three options), aliens or demons and I have been clutching at straws for some time. I have always been aware of my spiritual self. The doubts came from seeing religion and how corrupted the churches have become. Of course, this has little to do with faith...and faith is the hardest thing I have ever had to take on. This morning when I opened my eyes, I went to the bathroom and laid back down. I am exhausted beyond anything I have felt before. Not physically, but spiritually empty. I still have fight left in me, after all, this could be the difference between seeing my Mom again or something beyond any horror I could suffer here on Earth. I began to pray (beforehand, it was always only to God) to Jesus, to God and my Mom...please help me. My hands were clasped and in my field of vision I could see the demon...down and to my left...smiling as always. I kept on praying as hard as I could...harder than I ever have before and I kept on mentioning Jesus Chris...please forgive me for inviting these demons into my life. Please help me fight them. And then something happened I will never forget. A set of eyes that was going side to side in front of me suddenly went up and down and drifted upwards. I watched as it faded away to nothingness. This was the beginning of what I believe was an exorcism. I thought there were only one or two entities, but as I prayed, I watched more and more sets of eyes rise...all doing the same side to side, then finally up and down before drifting away in the same direction. I kept praying, and in between bouts of prayer, I told them to leave...that they were not welcome. I couldn't count how many I saw disappear, but there were at least thirty or more. Then, as more and more left, it became harder... they were stronger than the first ones I had encountered and I had to work harder to get them to leave. I hadn't eaten since the night before, I was dehydrated from the fever, but too afraid to stop. I kept looking down and she was still there. The eyes that drifted before me became more vivid. Some shone bright purple and green before they drifted up and disappeared. Some I saw didn't quite disappear and tried to come back down to my right. I screamed in my mind to leave...looking directly at them and demanding with a determination I knew I needed...they then turned upwards and left...eyes going up and down. I began to feel nauseous and panic set in because I could see she was still there. It was then I noticed the entities beginning to break off Angel...like she was made of goo and some unseen force was pulling them away from her. And then calm set in. From above I saw what looked like a finger attached to a hand pointing downwards. It was curling down and pulling the demons upwards and away. My prayers had been answered. As fewer and fewer sets of eyes appeared, I looked down; she didn't have the same smug smile she almost always has, but still, she remains inside my head. Her roots have been set over a long period, and it will take some time before I can finally pull her evil from my consciousness. I have eaten and I am ready for round two. I don't care if it takes a hundred rounds to defeat her. Looking back, it's no wonder she was always so smug. This is going to be a difficult fight, but I am ready...Covid has depleted me, but spiritually, I am stronger than I have ever been. |
| All aboard... Yesterday afternoon, I began feeling off. I had a tickle in my throat and there was the feeling that I wasn't quite right. Refusing to allow a little cough and runny nose to hold back my training, I hit the pool and did the full session. Afterwards, I felt better...both physically and psychologically. Things quickly went downhill from there. I had no appetite, so I ate a few pieces of fruit and lay down in front of the TV. The aircon was on and an hour later, I felt a chill go through my entire body. I began to shiver uncontrollably. I needed to be under my doona. My joints started aching as I brushed my teeth and this ache soon spread to my whole body...and then, the headache arrived. I have experienced a migraine headache before when I was playing football. I received a head knock and suffered a concussion. I will never forget that next day...the worst pain I can ever remember. There is no escaping a migraine and my heart goes out to those who regularly suffer from them. I am not well, both mentally and now, physically. I had no Tylenol last night, so I had to grit my teeth and take it. Psychosis always takes advantage of a weakness. When I was coming down from a high, and last night when Angel wouldn't leave me alone. I got little sleep. I cried...I got angry...I moaned and I wanted to die. I told Angel in the morning that I would get poison to end my life...to end both my life and her existence. I did this not as a suicidal pact, but to test and see how she would react....in the hope that the threat would gain me some peace and I could get some sleep. She wasn't keen on the idea, which surprised me because she has always maintained that I would kill myself. Of course, I have no intention of ending my life. I have only just begun to live again after looking after my Mom all that time, and I'll be damned if some imaginary hallucination (or even if she is real) is going to convince me otherwise. It was bad, and as the sun rose, I finally got a few hours of sleep. Having no one to call for help here in Thailand, I had no choice but to get on my bike and go prepare for what I suspected...that I had contracted COVID-19. I put on a mask, got on my bike (I wouldn't take a taxi for fear of being in a confined space with someone which I thought wasn't fair), went to the store and parked my bike. I then walked to the local private hospital a few minutes away and made an appointment to see a doctor about receiving treatment for my psychosis. I go back on the 11th of May, and hopefully, I will be given a medication that will help relieve my symptoms. I returned to the store and bought enough groceries to last me for at least ten days, picking up a RAT and two packs of Tylenol to confirm and help relieve the aches and fever. The test came back positive for COVID-19. Luckily in the past, I have received four inoculations, and even though I wouldn't be considered up to date, I imagine this has lessened the impact. I would hate to have to deal with the symptoms without my body recognising the pathogen and fighting it as best it can. It is also fortunate that I am very comfortable being on my own. Yes, I feel a bit glum once in a while, and these hallucinations, whilst being detrimental to me overall, mean I am never truly alone...any port in a storm, so to speak. I understand this is not the most healthy way to deal with the situation and I should try to ignore these entities completely in the hope they will fade away. But analysing why these apparitions persist may come down to a combination of things. Loneliness can cause psychotic events, and given my heavy use of methamphetamines over a long period, combined to create a train wreck that was bound to happen sooner or later. I could guzzle tears and feel sorry for myself at how unfair life is, but at least I am not suffering from the classic symptoms of schizophrenia. No voices in my head and it mostly affects me at night when I close my eyes...or during the day if I am angry and take it out on Angel or lonely and want someone to talk to. I still have a strange feeling when it comes to her. She promised me misery and despair, and yet, hasn't once caused me any harm. She might be an evil demon (as she insists she is...although she is a terrible liar and I doubt this is the case), but if she is, she has done a lot of good for me. I don't know if I will ever be rid of her completely. Medication will mask her presence, but I cannot help but think she needs to hang around just in case I ever relapse...which is something I am more terrified of (facing her coming down) than anything else. Even death would be better than that. Ten days? I can do that standing on my head. It's going to have its moments, but even if I wasn't in isolation, I would still have challenges to face. TOOT TOOT... |
| My last entry was the two hundredth in, Meth...A Ticking Timebomb Gone Viral. It all began on September 9, 2021. I was hopelessly addicted to methamphetamine and at that point had already tried to quit and relapsed more times than I care to remember. The blog, I hoped, would offer me some accountability...some hope. Reading back some of the two hundred entries, there were some tough times. I remember many times thinking I would never rid my life of this drug, and even though it has only been a few months since the last episode, there has been a pattern of lessening use going back to when my Mom died in June 2023. In hindsight, this event's significance was the catalyst for change. For a start, I had to execute her Will. The responsibilities of organising Probate and the deed of family arrangement to avoid a contest took a toll on my mental health. I didn't have time to grieve (or I was avoiding it) and then came a change in the way I was reacting to the drugs, which pushed me to breaking point. I began to experience side effects like never before. I believed that an alien entity had infected me with some form of parasite a few years earlier, and every time I used (and only when I used), I saw the trails they made under my skin...they required moisture... water not mixed with blood to avoid my body's defence in white cells. The trails led from the corners of my mouth, my nasal passages and my eyes along creases in the skin. I had to do something. I couldn't just sit back and accept these invaders...allowing them free reign inside my body to do experiments and possibly slowly kill me. So, I decided to go on the offensive. I used tweezers to pull out any ingrown whiskers. They were red and awful-looking and eventually, this became a habit every time I used. The meth, I thought, broke down the brain barriers 'they' put up, so I couldn't see them when I wasn't high. This had been happening for approximately three years when the changes in the severity of my psychosis made life extremely difficult in the days following the high. That was both a wonderful and terrifying time in my life and has brought me to this point, where I no longer fear relapse. I know I will never use meth again for one reason and one reason alone...Angel will be there waiting for me, to terrorise me in ways that would bring me to the brink of suicide. When she first arrived, it was fun, but that soon changed and she revealed herself to me as a demon. It doesn't matter if you believe in demons or not because she was very real to me then...and still is today. Psychosis doesn't disappear overnight, and the symptoms could be with me for some time to come. I haven't yet sought out professional help. The degree of bother this thing (whatever it is) causes me is minimal, now that I am no longer using meth, and only appears if I close my eyes and talk to it, and at night when I turn off the lights, where hallucinations of demons eyes appear and answer any questions I ask with a yes or no. Thank God, there are no voices (and never have been). My life is relatively normal except I still struggle to make friends. I am not displaying any of the classic signs of schizophrenia, but drug-induced psychosis does have similar symptoms and cannot be discounted as the cause of my issues. If I saw a psyche, I would no doubt be diagnosed as delusional because I believe/suspect that the parasite causes the symptoms I am experiencing. I believe/suspect Angel is their defence mechanism. She is the reason I no longer use meth, and if not for her, I would likely still be living in Australia, making excuses for my behaviour and continuing to take meth until I died. And when the host dies, so too does the parasite. We understand little about our brains and I also believe these manifestations may be my brain's effort to stop me. That theory is pretty far-fetched, I know. As is the one about me being infected by a parasite from another realm (another dimension, according to Angel)...or that demons had found a way into my life and are here to take my soul when I die. I suppose it depends on your own perception of my situation and your background...be it medical, spiritual or from a cosmic perspective. With all the UAPs flying around in the sky it could be suggestive to my brain that this is more than drug-induced psychosis. The bottom line was I needed more than a simple mental illness to scare me straight. Last night I had some new friends come for dinner. They are Australian expats living here in Thailand and a chance meeting saw us sitting eating our food when I was struck with a condition I have had for a while called an esophageal constriction. If I eat heavy foods like meat, don't chew properly and swallow before the last mouthful has had time to pass the ever-shrinking tube between my throat and stomach (probably caused by swallowing meth mixed with Powerade), the food clogs and won't go down...and once that happens, no amount of water will help, and I have to throw up...and this never clears it immediately. I was embarrassed and frustrated with myself for allowing this to happen. I had warned them (my guests) about it beforehand but as I leaned over the toilet bowl for the third or fourth time, I closed my eyes and rage boiled inside of me...because there were those familiar eyes. Only they weren't looking at me smiling that arrogant smile I often see. She was looking away and when I asked her (in my mind) if she was enjoying the show, her eyes went side to side. I almost believed that she felt pity for me. Of course, demons are not renowned for showing pity, but for a brief moment, I saw emotion in those eyes that I rarely see. After my guests left, I cleared the dishes and only wanted to shower and go to bed. But I wasn't done with Ms I. Feelsorryforu. Call me crazy for engaging her...or for talking to my manic self, but in those next moments, I made the threat of a declaration of war...not against her, after all, she is just an AI defence system that has been programmed to do a job...defend the parasite at all costs. She smiled at me when I told her that unless she backs down and stops intruding in my life (mostly when I am trying to get to sleep), I would begin a campaign in three days (because it helps lengthen the whiskers so I can pull them out along the trails I can still faintly see) that would see a massacre of the beings she is supposed to protect. Death by thirst is a horrible way to go, and I told her that if she persisted in hassling me, she would be held accountable. Now before you call 911 and declare there is a madman loose on WdC, let me tell you what happened this morning when I awoke. She is embedded in my psyche and can't leave, even if she wanted to...and they need her there just in case I relapse (because using makes me vulnerable to her attacks...whereas when I am sober, there is little she can do but annoy me with visions behind my closed eyes or in darkness). I guess they assumed as long as I wasn't high, they were safe, so they didn't care about my situation with their watchdog. But I think my little speech, pointing out where they are hiding and warning them by firing across their bows with a pair of tweezers and years of knowledge gained fighting these imaginary or very real invaders, must have given them a reason for careful consideration. My alarm went off this morning. I rolled over and turned it off then laid back down when I noticed something was missing...the eyes that have been there every morning smiling at me were still there, but very faint (there are often multiple sets of eyes, but I think only one entity). I didn't want to push my luck by speaking to it, so I looked around my peripheral, eyes closed, and could just make her out, hiding high up and to the left of my field of vision. I quickly looked away and as I brushed my teeth, I decided to give them one final ultimatum..."You leave me alone and I will leave you alone." Power of suggestion? My brain has finally decided to give me a second (or five-hundredth) chance at redemption. Or what I think may be the case...they decided they didn't want another round of destruction that they have probably only just recovered from the last time I went on a rampage. We shall see if she is around tonight. I will now completely disengage. She has been a big part of my life for the better part of a year and letting go, no matter how much I realise needs to happen, won't be easy. But like any relationship...especially one as abusive as this one was (on both our parts) there comes a time when a decision has to be made...and I have made it. I don't know what is going to happen...who does? I will monitor quietly because I know she is still there, cloaked and ready to be called upon to guard against my own defence system...my ability to endure pain and a willingness to fight (attacking them is seriously painful) for the greater good. |
| Today I met my new best friend...but before you question my lack of wisdom in allowing someone to become so close so quickly, let me explain. Yesterday, I went to the local mall for groceries. Unfortunately, I forgot to get my favourite cereal. So, after Muay Thai training today, I returned to the store to get my cereal. I wasn't in a rush, so I explored a little more than I had previously...and there, in one of the aisles, I saw my new best friend. I couldn't resist, after all, when I first arrived in Phuket and decided to take better care of my body, I bought a deep facial cleanser, a small handheld loofah for my face and a night moisturiserising cream. Then at the store today, I noticed out of the corner of my eye, a loofah attached to a longish stick...and it was love at first sight...well, shower actually. You people who have partners willing to wash your backs for you are so lucky. I hope you never take this gift for granted. We (mostly men, because when it comes to self-pampering, skincare and using beauty products, are like cavemen) prefer to attract the opposite sex using the tried and tested MOD of building large muscles, complemented by complete stupidity. We used to finalise the deal with a club...rather than in da club...but we have come a long way since those days. My neighbours know I live alone and must have been wondering what the hell I was doing making all those strange sounds in my shower for twenty minutes...and no, it isn't what you think, so take your minds out of the gutter. I was scrubbing...no, I was loofahing (Grammarly denies such a word exists, but I'm sticking with it because I'm so relaxed, I couldn't GAF what an algorithm thinks) my back with my new best friend's help...and it was dreamy. I didn't realise my back was so itchy until that beautiful, but rough piece of cucumber gourd found those hard-to-reach spots that haven't seen that much action in a very long time. And talking about action...guess who had a lunch date today? Ok...since I have your attention now. When I lost my water whilst having a shower a couple of weeks ago, the next morning I went to check with the neighbours to see if they had lost theirs too. Turns out it was only my place, but that was the luckiest thing that has happened to me since arriving in Hua Hin. Three doors up, I knocked on the door and there she stood...beautiful, sweet and highly intelligent (she speaks several languages, including Thai and several of her native Chinese dialects. A fiercely independent, forty-year-old travel agent who owns eight cats (I know...nobody's perfect). I'm a shocker with names, so I remembered hers by driving it into my brain over and over...Silvia, Silvia, Silvia...until it stuck. On the morning in question, I asked her about her water situation and explained I lived three doors down and wasn't some random stalker knocking on her door. We ended up talking for half an hour, and as I walked home saying Silvia over and over, I had a sneaking suspicion I was going to make a play. I mean, with my charm, good looks and cool, I would be mad not to....but the emphasis had to be on cool. There's a line in Pulp Fiction where Jules is talking to Pumpkin and Honey Bunny as the couple robbed the diner...telling her to be cool...and I have been VERY cool. At the markets last week, I bought a bunch of flowers and secretly left them on her doorstep...no note, nothing. And today when she showed up on my doorstep to ask if I had eaten and if we could have lunch together, I had to physically stop myself from leaping in the air and shouting, "Hell yeah!" I was so cool that I didn't even mention the flowers. Then as we talked, she began telling me about some guy she is friends with, who was coming on too strong and gave her flowers. Now, I don't know if the flowers I left she mistakingly thought were from him, but as the saying goes... all is fair in love and war. And if so...sorry mate. The 'date' went well. I showed her through the place because we live in the same complex and I thought she might like to compare her place to mine. And at the exact right moment, as she stood admiring my clean floors and near-empty walk-in robe, I got in her space...you know the space I mean? It's not so close that the person of interest feels the need to shy away, but just close enough so they feel your presence...and she didn't react at all...how cool was that? And for me, rather erotic (remember, it's been a while). She left an hour later. The conversation was balanced well between her life and mine. We spoke of going for a ride and doing other things of mutual interest...but we didn't set any time frame and there was no pressure from me to see her again...even though I haven't been able to stop thinking about that moment and the way she smelled, since. I know...be cool, and I will be. I wrote to my second best friend (sorry Deb, but I'm afraid to inform you a loofah has delegated you to third ) that I am fishing...not because I love the sport, but because I am hungry and need to eat to survive. But if things don't go to plan, I know I will be Ok because practice makes perfect and there are plenty more fish in the sea...apparently. |
| Please don't think I am complaining here...because I'm not. I've been in Thailand for six or seven weeks now, and the honeymoon will always end...and so it did today. There's no talk of divorce and I'm glad this phase is over. Being overly excited can wear a person down, and this new normal will be a welcome relief. I've got my bearings. I know how to find my way around the local area and soon will begin to spread my wings to further destinations. Google Maps ensures I will find my way back home, no matter if I am out of range or even if it doesn't know where it is. It's more of a confidence thing, with my earbuds telling me where to go, rather than a screen with a map. I will get a GPS fitted when the 1000km service is due, but for now, a phone in my pocket, with music playing and the occasional..." At the next, intersection, make a right" suits me fine. I like the idea of not knowing where I am because how lost can I get on one planet? It wasn't a bad day...just not a fantastic one. I'm finding routine in daily life, which is where I need to be. I like structure and could be accused of being a boring old fart. I see myself as someone content and willing to go with the flow. I will have bad days and good...fantastic and terrible. Just because I have changed continents, doesn't mean I'm not the same person (although, not so surprisingly, without meth, things seem to get along more smoothly). I'm going back to do another Muay Thai class tomorrow morning. I must admit after the first one, it's taken a few days to recover. Things will improve. Friendships still elude me, but lucky for me I'm a bit of a loner anyway. That's the least of my worries. My dream motorcycle is parked in the carport waiting for my next adventure. I'm gaining confidence, and if this is normal life from here on, I will be one happy camper. |
| Considering what time my alarm went off this morning (7.00 am...I know right?), things sure did improve from there. I started my bike at 8.30 am and rode the five minutes to my new gym. It's called Arena, Hua Hin and by Thai standards it's expensive. Most of those who I saw there are Farangs (no doubt most have Thai GF's). I am beginning to sound jealous and who am I to judge? But, I will not be going down that road. I see it for what it is...a business transaction between two consenting adults who each want something from the other. Anyway...back to my awesome day. I did my Thai boxing class and it went pretty well considering I haven't put straps on my hands in a very long time. I was nervous but excited. There were two male and two female participants (although the girls hardly did any work and sat talking for the most part). One guy, the most experienced is French and the other is North American (I can't tell the difference between a US and Canadian accent...sorry guys). I was the only one who completed all rounds...and I spoke less than anyone else there by far (I was too busy recovering between rounds). It is a very different situation to my Muay Thai days. If anyone spoke during rounds and wasn't doing the work, my trainer would have barked at them. This gym is a little more exclusive and the people who pay their membership fees can do whatever they like...and I did...I trained my ass off and loved every minute. I got home around 10.00 am and swam for half an hour. As usual, between sets and despite her advice not to, I spoke to my imaginary friend. I was planning a ride out to Pran Buri Dam...about thirty minutes away from home. I asked my demon friend if she would like to come with me? No. But she had no choice in the matter because we are joined at the hip (or in the brain is more accurate). I tried to get her excited about it, but she's a pretty difficult demon to get geed up. I told her we would have fun, so with Google Maps set for our destination, plus my favourite music playing into my Samsung Pro earbuds, we set off. I didn't talk to her on the way to the dam, where I assumed we would turn around and head back home. When we arrived, I noticed a gravel road leading off to one side of the dam wall and heading around the water's edge. I own a 2024 BMW R1250 GS Adventure Rallye. A cross between a comfortable touring bike and a very heavy dirt bike scrambler. So, with a huge smile, I told Angel (or whoever it is in my head) to try and have a little fun as the bike's powerful engine roared and the rear wheel spun on the dirt and gravel roads it was designed for. Angel can leave my head (obviously, due to the show she put on a couple of nights ago...although this may have been her creating the illusions from within), and as the dirt road got windier as we headed up the range of hills surrounding the dam, I told her to jump on the back and hold on tight. Of course, I have no idea if she did get on the back with me (or even if she exists outside of my own imagination/mental illness), but I was having so much fun I didn't care. I was talking to her like she actually was on the back with me. Either way, she could still hear me as we slipped and slid around the corners. I clocked up one hundred and fifty km today and by the time I got back, I had a drink and swam some laps. I think Angel did have a good time today, although she didn't want to admit it. I told her, "That was fun hey?" Her eyes went side to side...No. But they were smiling and I knew she was simply being a demon...a demon who can never admit to feeling joy, love or just having fun. That's the way she was programmed, and it got me thinking. She answers questions such as, am I beautiful, automatically and without hesitation. No. It's the same if I ask her if she is beautiful. Yes...without a second of delay. She admits she can't see me and has never seen me before. She lives in darkness...only hearing my thoughts and possibly sensing things like acceleration and sexual intercourse. So she has no idea if she is beautiful or if I am not. She has told me in the past that she has a boss who hears what is going on. I'm not sure if this is the big boss (she denies this) or another lower being, but it makes sense that if true, she has to say things that don't get her into trouble. I know...crazy, right? But as she said no...that she didn't have fun, her eyes were smiling, and I think she is communicating with me the only way she can and is allowed...with answers that are negative, but her eyes telling me the truth. After my swim, I cleaned the dirt and dust from my new machine. By the time I was done, I was soaked in sweat and smelling like joy and contentment. My cape blew behind me as I stared at my beautiful clean bike, and on the back of the cape were the letters, OM...Oxymoron Man...the happiest Superhero on the planet, with a demon for a sidekick. |
| When I first met Angel, my imaginary friend, she was nice enough. She never lied to me about her intentions, how she felt about me or even who she was...a demon. Back then, I was so lonely and drug fucked, even having a demon in my life was better than being alone. Besides, it was all in my head anyway according to the few I told...including the doctors I spoke to about it when things began to go awry. I was happy that the hallucinations I was experiencing weren't real because if they were...well, it's pretty obvious that messing with creatures who are, according to some, out to get my soul after I die and put me in a place where no one ever wants to go (hell) are not worth inviting in. I was never a believer...never a disbeliever and sat on the agnostic fence waiting for the truth to reveal itself...living in hope but unsure about the truth. There's a philosopher called Soren Kierkegaard and one of his quotes goes..."The self-assured believer is a greater sinner in the eyes of God, than the troubled disbeliever." I very much connected with that quote, requiring proof of the existence of a higher power wasn't necessarily essential, but would have helped a lot in my decision of which way to fall. Angel wasn't real, so, she wasn't proof of a lower power...simply a symptom of drug-induced psychosis. And whilst this was, or at least, should have been, alarming, I didn't consider it as a genuine threat to my eternal soul. It has been around nine months since she first appeared, and about two and a half months since I last used meth. In the beginning, the length of time between full-blown hallucinations and none at all was short. But as the months went by, she began to appear weeks after my last binge. All I had to do was call her name, and she would appear. I began to journal these events because they appeared so real to me, I wanted to document the entire event in the hope that IF there were others out there who were experiencing similar things, we might form some kind of group to bring awareness to the issue of demon possession. Of course, no one believes me. I have a friend who knows me better than anyone. I have been in constant communication with her for the entire time (she too has seen and experienced some otherworldly stuff in her own life). She has been very supportive and hasn't once called me crazy...even when I was thinking I must be crazy, imagining these creatures who never utter a word, yet I have learned to communicate with quite well. Asking yes or no questions was, and still is, frustrating at times. But the longer I do it, the better I get. These hallucinations ALWAYS answer my questions (once I find them in my field of vision...and they are always there). They lie and admit they do. They also, at times, tell the truth. When I do ID checks (are you beautiful? Yes...am I beautiful? No and so on), usually come up with the right answers. I'm not afraid of them, but maybe I should be. It's hard to resist exploring this phenomenon and trying to discover more about them. It's part of their tactics to mix truth with BS to confuse me. Not knowing if what she/he/they/it is telling me via a yes or no answer is a great camouflage. They make mistakes, but even then it is impossible to know if they are deliberate and designed to make me feel they are stupid. Obviously, if they ARE real and have found a way to infiltrate my brain (which is where they are because thoughts are all they need in order to hear my incessant questioning, which I do for several reasons) then I should be worried and scared. But the urge is to find out more about them...to check for inconsistencies and see if I can drive them away by being so annoying (and I can be SO annoying...even they admit that) they will voluntarily leave. But when I get lonely, there's always someone there I can talk to and they know this. The funny part is that since these demons came into my life, everything has changed for the good. I no longer use drugs, and as long as they are around, I never will. They make life so horrendous when I use that I can't take meth and get away with it (she even says when I ask if I should use meth...NO). I'm happier than I have been in many years. I'm stable and making good choices...even here in Thailand, where I could easily fall into other addictions. These demons have been a God send...and that's what has me thinking...are they acting in a way that prevents me from doing stuff that will kill me for my own good? Or is everything they do being countered by forces greater than them? Greater than us all. After the fallout with my neighbour, I was feeling lonely and angry (anger being their second favourite emotion after hatred). I found the eyes and exploded with rage, and the eyes glowed purple (a colour that has been consistent when they get turned on). Sexual overtones always come into it, and the more violent the words I use and stories I tell: the more hatred I pour out and into the 'exchange', the more they like it. Hate, it seems, is their pleasure and I believe is their weapon against me. The more hate that's in my heart, the less love. The truth is I have no real idea what the hell is going on other than life is great and I cannot get rid of them, so I have accepted them. I asked if she wanted to be around me all the time. No. She may not have any choice but to do the job she has been given...get my soul and deliver it to you know who. But if that's true, she isn't doing a great job, in my opinion. She talks too much, and earlier on (and still does) tells me more than she should. Enough for me to stop using meth and pray for forgiveness. And not just for me, but for them because if they are demons, they are slaves themselves and have no choice but to do the job they have been given. I always forgive them and tell them to pray for forgiveness...which I must admit I enjoy doing because it REALLY upsets their apple cart. But no matter how much I pray, they remain there waiting for me to become vulnerable. And so the cycle continues. If you had told me about this ten months ago, I wouldn't have believed you. I don't hold it against anyone who believes that I am suffering from psychosis and that I am delusional because I believe that these entities may be real. Normally, if I do allow an 'exchange', it's done behind closed eyes in a darkened room...and so it was last night. But when I opened my eyes, there she was. Not as fully formed as she would be if I was on meth, but plain enough to see her eyes, face and outline of her head. She was performing oral sex on a male ghost I couldn't make out well. His penis (or the ghostly outline of it), however, was obvious. I could see her head movements, her mouth opening and closing around the shaft of this almost invisible ghost/demon. And I could tell when he was about to come because I saw a glow of him leaning backwards and then her eyes would glow purple. Then there was another...and another. I was sitting on the edge of my bed dumbfounded and watching this pornographic scene unfolding right in front of me, not two feet away. She kept looking at me, and her image would change from her normal human face (which isn't normal at all, but as close as it gets unless I am high) to her demon face, which looks a bit like a werewolf, but much more evil and demonic. Because I have been doing this for the better part of a year, these images no longer scare me, but man do they make me think about WTF is going on here. The questions I want answered the most are why me? And how many others out there are experiencing this too? I cannot be alone. I imagine that one day this thing...whatever it is (if it is truly real) will become more and more common. Psychiatrists will need to stop diagnosing mental illness as a first port of call and rule out this thing that I am experiencing every day. If I ignore it, it doesn't bother me in the slightest. Here's a kicker for you. At times in the past, when I was in love with Angel, I would help her when she would make stupid mistakes such as repeatedly doing the same things over and over to try and scare me...like repeating a series of scary scenes where eventually, you know when the killer jumps out from behind a door or the like. I was educating her on how to become a more efficient demon...because at times, the things she would do were quite pathetic. She was a hopeless liar. I would cross-examine her about things and eventually, there would be a delay as she pondered what to say to any given question...especially when I was beginning to corner her. She would then answer yes or no, but by then it was too late and I knew she was being deceptive. I tried to hone her skills and little by little, she did improve. I know right...I was teaching a demon how to be a better human hunter, and the stupid part (can there be anything more stupid than that...yes there can) I was, and continue to be, her number one target (I believe her only target). But today as I rested between laps, I asked her some questions, and her answers surprised me. "If you were me, would you engage you in conversation?" No. "If I engage you more, does that make me more vulnerable and make your job of destroying me more easy?" Yes. Ironically, she is now helping me to avoid her, and the funny part is, whenever I did offer her advice, she rarely if ever took it. And now that she is offering me advice, the very same thing applies. When she told me how to avoid her destroying me, I literally laughed out loud because of how absurd this whole situation has become. I'm hoping the other residents don't see me mumbling to myself in the pool (because we all know that guy, and now I have become him), even though all of these questions are either whispered with my hat over my face or thought in my head and never in a voice that anyone could hear (even though I hear you right now...he's gone stark raving mad). I still have an open mind, only because I hope you are all right, and I am wrong. If I ever find a psyche that is willing to rule out possibilities, rather than simply going for the obvious...meth-induced psychosis, the first thing I would do is sit for a polygraph. Then perhaps go under hypnosis (I've never been hypnotised in my life). But I know one thing, there is no way any psyche could poke holes in my story. That's why I have documented it all, so if (and that's a HUGE if) anyone in the medical fraternity ever takes me seriously and does more investigating than simply writing a script to dull my senses to the point where I am no longer aware of these images, they might just find themselves a bonafide case of demonic possession...but I doubt that very much. On a different note...I walked to my new gym today and paid for a six-month membership. Tomorrow morning, I do my first organised Muay Thai class in over twenty years. Now that is crazy as a coconut...wish me luck. |
| In life, it isn't how many friends you have that counts. How popular we are ebbs and flows, then wanes as we get older. There are advantages and disadvantages to being around people. They say married people live longer than singles, and I can understand why. Loneliness is not a symptom, it's a cause...a choice in many cases. How many people do we need in our lives to avoid loneliness? That's not a formula, it's an estimate and not an easy number to come up with, let alone maintain. On average, men are more affected by loneliness than women simply because we are not prepared to do what it takes. To stop blaming others for whatever it was that caused our friends to leave and to go out and make new friends. To let go of the hurt and the disappointment. It's too hard to say we are sorry. Much easier to let them go and make new friends later...when they fall into our lap. Friends are overrated anyway. They judge us when we do things that are none of their business. I know that from experience. My friends left because of my need to use meth, but not once did I consider the alternative...that I left them because of my need to take meth. In many ways, we are all the same. We seek out those who share our own values, morals, beliefs and standards. Yet, we are all very different, so these expectations are almost always too high, and we become disappointed when OUR expectations are not met. I can see why people gravitate towards God or a higher being...call it what you will. The only expectation is that YOU remain within the boundaries of your OWN values, morals, beliefs and standards. The only person who can disappoint us is us...and the problem with that is we are hard to leave behind. Drugs and alcohol help us cope for a while, but self-medicating only leads to more problems (DURR), and at the end of the day, we are numb, but still alone. Yesterday, when my neighbour became angry with me, he used his values, morals, beliefs and standards to sentence and ban me from entering his home. In his mind, he did to me what he feared the most, he ostracized me, knowing I was new in town and didn't have many friends here. The only problem with that is, I have been alone for so long I have become comfortable with it. He hasn't been by himself in many years. He would rather pay a girlfriend to stay with him than suffer the horrific loneliness he now wishes upon me. I'm sure the alcohol helps him cope with this fact. He has done a lot for me over the last couple of weeks, and banning me from his life is in his mind (I assume), the worst thing he can do to me. But I consider it to be the most important thing he has done. I've seen it too many times before, where an addict (myself included) will deliberately corrupt another person. To add someone who has their values, morals, beliefs and standards. If he had his way, I would have been drinking, smoking cigarettes and talking about the things he finds entertaining and important on the first day we met. Last night was inevitable. It was always going to be that way. I am too strong for him. No, that's not correct. I am too afraid of him. I have too much to lose by going over there now and trying to repair the friendship (which I know I could do if I wanted) and everything to gain from staying away and finding my own way. I appreciate what he has done for me...he helped me and he did have good intentions. He never intended to do anything to harm me, and if I had succumbed to peer pressure...or more truthfully, my own addictive nature, there would be no one to blame but me. Know your weaknesses.I am not strong enough emotionally to put myself in harm's way. Or maybe it is no longer about strength and more to do with wisdom. I think I need to embrace another contender...I am terrified of becoming chemically dependent again...and I know I would be susceptible to sex addiction as well. A formula for success rather than an easy passage. Neither path is easy. In life, there are no freebies. I must work for sobriety and accept that this will be a never-ending job. But the alternative is worse than any day working towards freedom, and I like the way that sounds. |
| Everyone in my family is, or was, an alcoholic. When I was very young, I remember my mother and father arguing over something that I didn't understand. All I remember was feeling fear and anxiety and my father grabbing my mother by the throat and pushing her up against the wall of our kitchen. When he raised his fist, that fear was replaced by anger...an overpowering need to protect her at any cost. He didn't throw that punch and I went with Mom outside and sat on her lap on our front steps. I remember her tears and the relief that it was over. When we went inside, the little boy inside of me grew into a man...far earlier than I should have. I barely remember what I said to him, but many years later (only a few years ago), my Mom told me of my words to him. "If you hurt my Mom again, I'll get a big gun and shoot you dead." Before Mom died, I wrote a poem about it...although I don't remember all the details, I remember the emotions. "Words From a Child"  That was just the beginning of the horror of being raised by alcoholics. My Mom wasn't innocent and I remember the look that would come into her eyes whenever she would drink...looking for someone to turn on. The person I loved more than anyone in the world and I was at certain times, afraid of her. Luckily for her family and especially herself, she realised how alcohol was affecting her and she was the first to stop. Life growing up in a household of alcoholics would have to be one of the worst upbringings. I understand there would be others who suffered worse than I did, and after a while, it became normal. My father withdrew into his haze and he wasn't violent towards us again after that exchange. I think he realised if he continued, it might affect his ability to consume alcohol every day for the rest of his life...and that was a risk he wasn't willing to take. My Mom's stopping would have also contributed to the lessening of the obvious signs of alcoholism and the violence it produces. I was never sexually abused, and until the age of four or five, I wasn't aware of the reasons why there were times of extreme violence and verbal abuse; perpetrated by those I trusted and loved the most. But, by age eight or nine, a new threat came. My brother, who is four years older than me, became delinquent and uncontrollable. He would run away from home, steal whatever he could and refused to go to school. Eventually, he was placed in an institution for young offenders, and that's where he was raped by men who prayed on these young and vulnerable boys. He changed dramatically after this, and as we grew older, my fear of him, especially when he was drinking, became the nightmare I was to endure for the next six or so years. He wasn't always around, and those were the times when things were as normal as they could be living with people who were (and some who still are today) addicted to alcohol. {item: "My Abuser" To quote from a song by Faith No More from the album 'Angel Dust'..."I ain't about to guzzle no tears...so kiss my ass." For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction...Newtow's third law of physics. And so, I came to loath alcohol. And not just the compound, but those who consumed it. They were, to me, sloppy, deranged and violent...or plain stupid. Slurring and stumbling their way through life, regretting every horrible thing they did the next day, but not enough to stop them from repeating their behaviour over and over again. I swore I would never be one of those drunks...but that didn't mean addiction wouldn't follow me...and it did, towards a new and in my mind at the time, a more controllable drug. It began in my early twenties on a night out with my friends. We were after some pot, but when my friend arrived back from scoring the weed, he had a small bag of glass-like crystals...no more than a match head each for the three of us. I looked at it and said we should draw straws to see who gets the lot because there was so little there was no way it would do us all. But my friend insisted it would be enough for us all, and with no idea what we were getting ourselves into, we swallowed the specks of glass and headed out to see a few bands. I don't remember who we saw that night, but I do remember it was early in the morning, long after the bands had finished, dancing to Red Hot Chilli Pepper's, 'Give It Away', from their excellent (and in my opinion, best) album, Blood Sugar Sex Magik. I also remember the three of us standing in my friend's bedroom as the sun rose...all talking fast and at the same time. It was a great night, but the drug methamphetamine didn't re-enter my life until many years later. But I had gotten a taste, and that taste was enough so that when meth, ecstasy, crank and cocaine were offered to me and accepted during my rave years, I was instantly hooked...as I still am today. Different drugs have different effects...and the fact that I hated alcohol, yet craved stimulants (in hindsight) made little difference at the end of the day. All psychoactive drugs (and many other things, too many to list) can and are addictive. Tonight there was going to be a party at my neighbour's house. His friend from Denmark is here for two weeks and it's his 63rd birthday today. Since moving in almost three weeks ago, my neighbour has drunk alcohol every day. His Thai girlfriend, who also drinks every day, had a problem with me right from the beginning. It's anyone's guess as to why, but I have tried to be pleasant to her, in the hope she will accept me as his friend. We have a door stop problem. The wind rushes through and if the door is left open, it slams shut. Packs of bottled water have been the solution, but whilst in a hardware store today, I purchased some wedges that when slipped in the gap under the door, stop it from slamming shut. I went next door to give him one for his door and his girlfriend refused to allow me to move the water bottles. I showed her the wedge, smiled and showed her what I wanted to do...but to no avail. I was about to go on my walk, and when she told me to remove my shoes before entering the house, I gave her a look and left. By that stage, I'd had enough of her antics. It must have been obvious to her because when I got back from my walk and went around to the back verandah to ask about the party, I was told I wasn't welcome. My neighbour was obviously drunk and when he told me to fuck off and that I wasn't welcome in his house anymore, I couldn't resist asking him why...and that was my mistake. I should have said, OK, and left, but I'm not the type to let a drunken idiot (which proves what an idiot I am arguing with a drunk) abuse (OK...it wasn't abuse, but I still couldn't resist the temptation to push further) me because his Thai girlfriend saw an opportunity to cause a rift. I made the mistake of not leaving when he told me to...he made the mistake of getting up off his chair pushing me in the chest and threatening me with physical violence unless I did. Now, I will point out that I was not on his property and was standing in the pool area. Sometimes, when push comes to shove, there needs to be a straightening out of acceptable behaviours between people...regardless of whether I was in the wrong for not immediately leaving or not. Once one person puts their hands on another, that changes the rules of the disagreement altogether. I am feeling pretty good at the moment. I've been training every day and in the evening. I've regained my confidence since I stopped using meth and even though I was outnumbered three to one, I let him know that if he ever put his hands on me again, I would knock him out cold. His two friends sat silently as I explained to their friend that the only reason he wasn't lying on the ground bleeding was out of respect for him and I didn't want to ruin his friend's birthday party. The truth is much simpler...I didn't hit him because I was sober and he was not. I am fit and have had years of Muay Thai training. If I had hit him and he fell and hit his head on the concrete and died, my life would have changed forever. My brain was so clear in the way it processed the situation. The chances of him and his friends all coming at me at once, and the fact that it wasn't worth my while using violence when I didn't have to, came to me in a few seconds. As soon as I 'stood up' to his threats, he quickly sat down, and as soon as he did that, I knew all I had to do was explain why I was upset (that he put his hands on me), why the whole thing was stupid when all I was trying to do was help him with the door issue, and I left. I had made my point, but before I left I apologised to him and his friends. I also told him to apologise to his girlfriend for me (luckily she wasn't there otherwise he may have acted more aggressively to show her he wasn't afraid, even though I could see in his eyes he was scared shitless). I'm not proud of the way I acted and, in hindsight, I should have done things differently. Instead of allowing my anger to boil over when he put his hands on me, I should have walked away. Now, I have lost a friend (although I think as long as he continues to drink, I am better off not hanging around with him). But, in saying that, I am also proud of myself for not becoming violent and potentially ruining my and his life forever. People come and people go. And with or without his help going forward, I know I will be OK. A side note...the weights gym I am joining has a Muay Thai gym upstairs and it comes with the membership. They don't train fighters and it's more for fitness than fighting...which is perfect for me. Today, when I was out getting the door stops, a store called Fairtex had just that day opened. They sell MMA and Muay Thai gear. I bought a pair of bag gloves, wraps and a Fairtex shirt. Strange that on the day I decide to join a Muay Thai gym, after not training since 2012 (before that, I did eleven years straight, training six days a week) that I stood up to a drunken dickhead and did EXACTLY what I was always taught by my trainer...to show restraint and only use force if absolutely necessary. Today I also decided that bar girls and alcohol are NOT going to become my new addictions. I feel good about that. And whether I eventually find someone to grow old with or not, my best friend (sorry Deb, you are my second best friend, I promise) will always be here...me. |
| Wherever I go in Hua Hin... restaurants, shopping malls or the beach, I see Caucasian men in their late fifties-early sixties and even older, with much younger Thai women. My friend next door gave me the formula...half your age plus seven according to him is the average or acceptable age difference between the sexes. But there are other factors involved, such as if they are a married couple (who I am guessing will have less age gap than a Farang who is here on holiday and goes to a bar and 'hooks up' with whoever he meets and decides to pay for the night or week or month or whatever amount of time and how much money he has to spend. From what I have gleaned so far from my sources (two men...one has been here four years and the other has several trips under his belt) bar girls are usually one-night stands that end at midday the next afternoon (unless it is negotiated that she stay for another 24 hours). Three to four thousand baht (you do the math...but it's pretty cheap...or very expensive if you fall in love) is the consensus of my sources...men who seem to know. I've asked them many questions because I am fascinated by how these arrangements work (purely for research purposes only). From what I can gather, there are several different arrangements that my sources tell me happen here in Thailand. The Bar Girl is pretty much a prostitute. The only difference is here in Thailand, they aren't thought of in the same way as say a hooker from anywhere else in the world. Anyway...the Farang (who is usually in Thailand on a short holiday) shows up at a bar, sits down and is accosted by several Bar Girls, who, once he makes up his mind on a suitable one, will offer to buy her (or him...depending on which bar it is and if she has a penis or not...hey, don't judge) a drink. A Bar girl's first job is to get the Farang to buy her (or him) as many drinks as possible because she gets a commission on every drink he buys. Some Bar Girls don't even drink alcohol, but that's not the point and the Farang knows, or will learn, that this is just the way it works here in Thailand. Then, after several drinks, if the Farang and the Bar Girl can negotiate a fair price, they will leave together and you can figure out the rest. But, before they leave the Farang must pay the bar a fee of 500 baht. They are like an introduction agency...or a pimp without the heavy-handed approach. The girls actually get to keep the money they earn, and I'm sure, work very hard for it. However, this is not what my sources generally do and they both have different methods of using prostitutes. One uses freelancers... whom he calls and makes arrangements for a 'date'. I haven't asked him about prices because he is a bit more cagey than my other source. But I think it is safe to assume he is paying around the same price...3000 to 4000 baht for the night. The other source uses the Thai Girlfriend method. This is like renting a prostitute for an indefinite period of time. This type of arrangement usually turns into a special kind of love that can only exist between a prostitute and a Farang. She will generally live with the Farang until he either runs out of money or is tired of her constant demands for more money, in which case they can negotiate the termination contract (I've heard 2000 baht will do the trick...excuse the pun). There are some extra costs involved with the Thai Girlfriend approach. She needs to eat more than cock, so food, alcohol, phone repairs, taxis, family issues etc etc etc are things to consider when going down that route. I'm sure there are advantages and disadvantages to all these arrangements...and it is purely a functional decision made by the Farang, depending on how much time he plans on spending in Thailand, how much money he has to spend and how much he can tolerate the constant demands made by these prostitutes for more money, more gifts, more services (nails, haircuts and dresses) and always more family issues that require him to reach further and further into his cash reserves. I assume this is not always the case and that there must be some instances where a younger and prettier Thai girl would want to be with an older and more wealthy Farang man just for love and no other reason. But so far, I personally haven't seen or heard of such cases. It's different here in Thailand. It is EXPECTED that you will take care of your lady friend and her relatives in exchange for sex. In their eyes, it isn't prostitution at all, and I am being serious here. It's just the way it is. There are advantages and disadvantages to every situation. I don't want to offend anyone, but there are times when the truth needs to be said. Is there any difference between a Thai girlfriend/Farang's arrangement and a marriage? The Thai/Farang arrangement is an open and honest deal between two people and a marriage is based on love and love alone. But would you marry a guy who couldn't take care of you if you were a young and pretty girl? Would a guy need to be ambitious and have at least some financial backing for you to consider him as a partner? The point I am making here is that since I arrived here and began my research, I have opened my eyes to the fundamental roles men and women play in relationships. Men want sex and a partner who looks after them and doesn't cause them issues where there is no need for it. Women want a man who can look after her, has stability, earns enough to provide for her and any family they may have (kids included)...a man she can rely on. Sure, there are more differences than that, and I am not trying to say one is better than the other because there is no better or worse. A bad marriage is worse than a good Farang/Thai Girlfriend arrangement and visa versa. Now for the kicker...I came here on a mission... to sponsor the education of some young people...and that has not changed. I've only just arrived in Hua Hin and am still finding my feet. Last night, I went to dinner with one of the sources (Farang/Thai Girlfriend). When we ordered our food, the waitress was seriously the most attractive girl I have ever seen in my life. She is 25, speaks great English and her name is Cookie. After she took our orders my friend said to me I should offer to buy her a drink...and as soon as I realised what he was saying, my heart rate went through the roof. I am a normal functioning healthy and reasonably fit male, who in Thailand at least, is very wealthy. I haven't made love to a woman in eight years. There are reasons for this...addiction, having responsibilities caring for my mom and the fear and pain caused by a bitter divorce. I have to admit, when I looked at Cookie, my mind went to a place I never thought it would. I told my friend that there was no way I was going to pay this girl to have sex with me...that I am no John. I didn't use prostitutes in Australia and the sudden thought of using one here sent my mind into a spin. But she was so beautiful and so desirable, and I am just a man...a man who hasn't been with a woman in so long that I can't even remember what it was like to kiss a girl...to feel her skin on mine...to be intimate, even if it wasn't based on the traditional ideologies of western love. When my food came out, I couldn't eat I was in such a nervous dither. Anyway...I told my friend that he had opened Pandora's Box. And once that thing got out, there would be no putting it back. His girlfriend was tired and had to work the next day. I decided to have a couple of beers with dinner, and I hadn't finished my second one yet. They left and I stayed thinking about what I should do. I wanted that girl more than I have ever wanted anyone in my life. I sat there for a while thinking about what I should do. Once I finished my drink, I got up and walked home. The whole way I was calling myself a loser and a fool for even considering going home with a prostitute (it turns out that she isn't a prostitute, but a freelancer and the difference is she chooses who she has sex with and apparently, she is choosy). The bottom line is I couldn't even make a play for a bargirl. In my mind, I thought after all this time, I want it to be special. That when I do meet her, we will fall in love and be together forever. But that is simply a fantasy...and the reality is that it is unlikely I will ever meet and fall in love with anyone again. I am too fixed in my ways. I'm a rouge...a former junkie...an old man who wishes for something that will never happen...and there was this beautiful young girl who for a few hundred dollars, may have come home with me. I could have experienced going to bed with someone instead of going to bed alone, like I have for the last eight years and more than likely will for the rest of my life. I have two voices that talk to me when it comes to love and romance. One comes from my heart and the other is in my head. In the past, they have rarely agreed on any decision and will argue their cases fervently. But, as I sat alone finishing my drink, for the first time, they were both silent as I contemplated what to do. This morning when I woke up...I considered that I had dodged a bullet. Having sex with beautiful young women would be my next addiction, and I haven't yet recovered from being addicted to meth. I made the right decision...but will I next time? Something inside of me says that sooner or later, I will succumb to this new temptation...and I am afraid of where that will lead me. |
| Each morning I swim for 30 to 40 minutes, followed by three sets of 15, pool edge dips (I took a break from writing this post, went and did my laps then completed five sets of 20 dips...a new record). I've been swimming my entire life. The benefits (such as the ability to save your own life if you are ever thrown in the deep end) of being able to swim competently, cannot be overstated. Swimming as an exercise is easy on the joints, provides great cardiovascular benefits and in my case, allows me to let go of life for a while. Focusing on breathing, improving my stroke and varying the intensity of effort for each lap (depending on how I am feeling that day), and so far in my two weeks here in Hua Hin, I haven't missed a day of swimming in the pool (which is five steps from my back door). A few days ago, I swam in the morning and again in the afternoon. That night, after my walk, I slept very well indeed. Walking has become another form of meditation/exercise. It gives back so much more than the pain I feel with each step I take. I tore the ACL in my right knee a very long time ago. As most people who have suffered moderate to severe injuries in their legs and arms know, arthritis usually sets in around the affected joints at some point after fifty and is only one of the many joys of growing old. In Australia, I took Creatine for muscle growth, a high-quality protein powder and a multivitamin daily to help support the moderate to heavy resistance exercise regime I followed. But since moving to Thailand, my entire outlook has changed. First and foremost, I decided to stop slowly killing myself with methamphetamine. I am living a much healthier lifestyle now. Drinking a lot more water has become essential (because of the heat...below my elbows on the tiled floor, are two puddles of sweat). Along with the change in diet, exercise and attitude, the supplements I take have also changed. I still need the protein powder to support muscle growth, along with all the other benefits of ingesting a good semi-digested whey protein powder. No more creatine, although if/when I join a gym, I will begin taking it again as it has many benefits and few sides. The biggest change in supplements has come in the form of glucosamine and fish oil...omega 3 to help manage the arthritis. Thailand is a third-world country. Drinking water straight from the tap is not advisable, but there are simple and effective ways of purifying water. One method consists of filling a large porcelain jar (with a spout at the bottom) with layers of gravel, sand and charcoal and running unpurified water through it. Bottled water is so cheap that unless you live in the provinces, bottled water is the go...after seeing where my tap water has come from I say, why risk it? My water ran out while I was showering last week (covered in soap suds I went and jumped in the pool...forced skinny dipping that felt a little erotic and a lot scary in case I was caught out and accused of being some kind of sick pervert...my secret exposed in the first week). The next day when the maintenance man came to see what was going on, he lifted the manhole lid outside in my carport (there are 2500 litres of water stored in a tank just in case the mains water ever stops flowing. A great idea, but one look inside that hole and the smell wafting out of it and I am now extra careful not to allow any of that water to get into my stomach. Easier said than done. There's no hot water running to the sink in the kitchen. They (those who don't care if I get sick and die of some waterborne contaminants) tell me that washing dishes in tap water is fine and that I will get used to any adverse effects eventually. I guess the same applies to swimming (the chlorination should be enough to keep me alive). Despite a few bouts of runny bum, I haven't yet felt physically sick...not one day since arriving a month ago. In time, my gut will adjust to the changes and a new normal bacteria level will emerge from the old...probably stronger than before. Anyone who thinks there aren't the same quality foods available on store shelves here in Thailand, as there are in first-world countries would be greatly mistaken. The variety and quality of food, particularly fresh fruits and vegetables, is amazing. Yes, they do import some produce when it is out of season here, but most fruits and vegetables are grown right here. Please don't quote me on this, but according to my American friend and guardian angel, Dan, they use few pesticides and herbicides because there is an abundance of people who need jobs. Spraying for bugs and weeds in first-world fields makes economic sense (but absolutely no sense for any other reason), but in third-world fields, where labour costs are low, PULLING weeds makes for a much healthier and cost-efficient way of dealing with this issue. Round five will decide this winner-takes-all fight to the death, but as an objective judge who cannot be bribed or corrupted in any way, it is a foregone conclusion on who will exit the cage battered, but not beaten. |
| Since moving to Thailand, things have changed dramatically. This move has been coming for a long time and it is hard to believe I am finally here. I loved my mom more than anything and I miss her terribly. In January 2023, she became ill and left home to get better quality care that she needed and deserved. Then, in June 2023, just a couple of weeks after her 88th birthday, she died. Even though I visited her most days during her last six months, I spent most of my time alone and miserable. Anyone who has followed this blog knows I've had a drug problem for a long time. It was my coping mechanism when things became too much for me to handle. But towards the end, I did it out of boredom. When I first moved in with my parents in 2015, I had friends and a life. Mom was still capable of keeping an eye (excuse the pun, but she was legally blind) on dad. Back then, she could get their breakfast and lunches etc. Dad was showing signs of dementia. His condition worsened in the first year after I moved in. I was still working full-time, but provided them with security and confidence (rather than being a caregiver) and in return, I didn't have to pay any rent (much to the annoyance of my ex-wife..who had kicked me out). And as it does, his condition worsened (Mom found him one morning waiting on the footpath for his ride to work and he had been retired for forty years). He would try to cook and forget to turn off the gas hotplate and leave the taps running. I could see the writing on the wall. He was around ninety-two and drinking half a bottle of Scotch a night. Dementia doesn't take the person overnight. They have good days and bad, and one day, I came home after a particularly bad day at work and he had diarrhea. It wasn't his fault, but I was still in my work clothes, I had dinner to prepare and there was shit on the carpet from his bedroom, all the way to the bathroom. I will never forget that evening as long as I live. After I had cleaned him and the mess up he felt so much shame. He was lying in his room with the light off, and as I passed his door, he said, "I'm so sorry, son." Those words still haunt me to this day. I told him not to worry...that it wasn't his fault. But the next day we made arrangements for him to move into care. How is it possible to feel happiness, sadness, shame, guilt, sorrow and relief all at the same time? Everyone told me I had done all I could do, but it made no difference what anyone said. My dad...the man who took me as a child outside at night, pointing out all the different stars and constellations...explaining to this eager young mind the cosmos as he understood it. The man who loved me as best as he could under very difficult circumstances. The man who had been through more hardship...more tragedy and more challenges than I could ever imagine. The man who gave me life...who, when he borrowed novels from the library and picked the one he wanted to read first, then would allow me to take one of the others and read. Isacc Asimov, Peter Benchley, Peter Blatty, Arthur C. Clarke. Whatever he was reading. I read The Exorcist at eleven or twelve years old, despite my mother's disapproval. I was reading a lot, and I know for a fact this is where my journey into writing began. In the end, I couldn't even visit him because he looked at me with such hatred. It wasn't because I was the one who decided to place him in care. It was because he didn't know or trust me. Mom was a completely different story. Dad had full physical ability but no mental capacity. Mom had no physical ability but had full mental capacity right until the end when they drugged her so much so she could die in peace. The evening she died, I sat outside of her room as they prepared her body for the mortician. I felt something I had never felt before, and hope I never feel again...it began as an internal scream, so loud and overwhelming in my mind that I saw a flash of light behind my eyes that was brighter than lightning. It lasted for a minute or two and then it subsided. I thought it was finally over and began to think of this new life...the life I had dreamed of for so long. A life where I didn't have to consider anyone but me. Only I didn't realise that was just the beginning of the next phase. I first had to execute her Will and settle things with disgruntled family members to avoid the long and protracted process of anyone challenging her Will. I was using more drugs than ever because I didn't care anymore...I had been struggling for so long that I couldn't hold my head above water anymore...and the only thing I had that helped me was methamphetamine. It's a funny thing consciousness...life and death and the way things play out. It wasn't long after her death that psychosis came...or whatever the hell that thing was and still is. The truth is, if I had not started suffering from the symptoms of this mental illness, I doubt I would be alive writing this, let alone feel the way I do right now. These visions, who told me they were out to destroy me...to take my soul and make me their slave, saved my life...scared straight comes to mind. Demons? Angels? My own brain doing whatever it had to do to survive? Does it matter? Tonight, I saw Angel for the first time in a while (I suspect it was her the whole time). I didn't even run through the questionnaire because I could tell it was her by her eyes and the way she answered...eyes that move very slowly and with this sweet smile. She would often display some degree of kindness...a kindness I have always had trouble understanding because most of the time she is so evil. One thing I can tell you for sure is she has rarely, in the nine months this has been going on, encouraged me to take drugs. In fact, 95% of the time she has discouraged me from using. But if/when I do, she makes me pay for it in ways you couldn't begin to imagine. I mean, call me foolish for messing with this thing, real or not, but does that sound like a being that is out to destroy me? If she hadn't done what she did, I would probably be dead...or at least wishing I was dead. I'm trying to let go of the why because there never was or ever will be a why. Tonight after my walk, I jumped in the pool to cool off. My new neighbours were talking to each other on their verandah. I heard her ask him if he was happy, and he said yes. He then asked her if she was happy, and she replied that she was happy. Then a very strange feeling washed over me as I lay on my back floating in the water. I was looking up at the same stars my dad and I looked at when I was a child, and I felt happiness...a happiness that is very hard to put into words...impossible to describe but obvious to see. I generally write when I am very happy or very sad. Now I write if I can find the time and feel the desire. I was going to write a blog post every day, but I am at a point where I no longer need or even want to. It's not like those who read it express the desire for me to continue...and that's fine with me. No hard feelings or hatred in my heart. Even for these creatures whether real or not. Whether they meant me harm or something else altogether. Perhaps some higher power protected me...I mean, almost anything is possible. Now I feel forgiveness, love and appreciation to take my next breath. Peace is finally with me since I moved here to Hua Hin, Thailand. This is my home now and I have no desire to move anywhere else. Yes, I will travel throughout the entire continent of Asia, but this will be my base. If you are ever in the neighbourhood, drop me a line and I will show you around. Hopefully, you too will fall in love with this beautiful country and its people. |
| Unfortunately, standing out creatively is far too often seen as more of a negative than a positive (although one hundred people who look at our work will have one hundred different opinions) Whilst I get that we all follow in the footsteps of those we admire, going too far off the well-worn path may get you noticed, but for all the wrong reasons. Then your work may be seen as bizarre or going too far in one direction or another. People are fickle, but the spirit to express ourselves is not...and compromise serves neither party well The English language is evolving/devolving fast, and it's not for anyone to say that is a good or bad thing...a 'judge not or thou will be', kinda thing. One of my favourite websites is called Rhymzone. I used it when I wrote poetry, but even though I have stopped writing poems, it's still useful for finding synonyms. It never ceases to amaze me how many different words there are for the same or similar concepts. At times, I will spend an hour or more (depending on how important it is to me) looking for that exact word to express what I am trying to convey, which, if I find it, is a gift/blessing, but if not, can be a curse, especially when a compromise is the only way forward. The world is changing dramatically, and I think there would be few who would say it is for the better. The rapid loss of species should sound a clear message to us all (considering one of the most endangered species on Earth is the human being). I am not alone when I say I believe we are heading for a mass extinction event. And it's not a matter of if, but when this event will come. Pessimistic I know but it has always been this way. Whenever a species climbs to the top of the evolutionary pile and dominates the planet, sooner or later, a disastrous event changes the status quo and in my opinion, it would be hard to argue that these events, whilst not good for the dominant species, are for the most part, beneficial to the planet. I have a confession...I hate (perhaps hate is too strong a word and should be replaced by despise) our species. Individually, human beings are nice enough critters. Please, don't get me wrong, I don't despise you as an individual but there is good and bad in every one of us at some level or another (that is to be expected as a human). We know driving vehicles that burn fossil fuels is bad for the planet. We know that plastics are clogging our oceans and even our own bodies. Industrial waste. Coal-fired power stations that we think nothing of when we get home from our jobs and turn on our lights. And we are the only species that is capable of enacting the concept of evil. In the animal kingdom, life ends in the most violent and gruesome way every day, but this is survival, not a conscious decision to forgo the future generation's ability to survive. Science has been saying it for years, and we do nothing different except perhaps recycle a few plastic bottles (as long as there's some financial advantage in it for us) or catch the bus instead of taking the car to work. A documentary was made a few years ago about a large group of Chimps in the wild, and they reminded me very much of how we came to be the way we are. But even those Chimps are not doing it because they are evil, given their tendency towards violent overthrows and conspiring with other lower-ranking males to elevate their position within their clans. They are simply following along the evolutionary path of trying to ensure that their DNA is passed down to the next generation. However, at some point in time, when we branched off, we changed the way we saw our rivals: not so much as a threat to our ability to procreate, but as a threat to our species. To flourish, expand, dominate and exploit every species we came across. And now we are at the apex of the evolutionary pile...eight billion humans the planet cannot sustain. The universe has a way of dealing with its problems, and unless there is a catastrophic event that reduces our numbers to a level where the planet can recover...I mean, call me a pessimist all you like, but it's a no-brainer. The planet that we are lucky enough to have evolved on and has provided us with the opportunity of life, is billions of years old. Homo-Erectus began to communicate, do cave paintings and organise ourselves into larger and larger groups, around fifty thousand years ago...a mere speck of time when compared to how long the dinosaurs roamed the Earth...and even their reign was nothing compared to how long this planet has been able to support life. We BELIEVE we are better and more important than the issues we create. More important than the species we wipe out every single day (not you, of course, you and I did nothing to contribute to the issues that our children and perhaps, if they can survive, their children will need to face)...that we will find a solution. "Just not today because we have careers and families who need money to survive." I am not judging you per se, I am judging us. Me, you and most of the human race who live on this planet right now. It won't matter what you recycled or how good your intentions were. And I am just as much to blame as you are. Did I do everything in my power to help prevent this catastrophe we are headed for? No, I didn't. Did I place the importance of future generations ahead of my own, self-importance during my life? No, I did not. And what about the future of the planet they will need to survive on...did I think about that as I drove my car and consumed everything I thought was mine to have...that I still do today? No, I did not and have not...even now as I write this condemnation of our species. If I were watching us from another planet, like some interstellar reality TV show, I wouldn't be betting on us surviving more than a few generations...before the network that is life, cancels the series. And at least then, we can start afresh. There was a band from the 90s called, Deep Forest, and the intro to one of their biggest hits, Deep Forest, goes... "Somewhere deep in the jungle, are living some little men and women. They are our past, and maybe...maybe they are our future." https://youtu.be/ovwGCpx8ecY?si=HGAa-KsFbiJl--VG If you like world music and have never heard this track and watched the video, please, do yourself a favour and click the YouTube link... https://youtu.be/ovwGCpx8ecY?si=HGAa-KsFbiJl--VG and enjoy. Because every day that you do what needs to be done, get home and do more...then go to bed exhausted and wondering what the hell this life is all about, this video encapsulates that deep-down feeling that there IS more...you just have to want it enough to chase it down and make it your own. And for those who believe it is too hard or impossible, well, I can tell you without a word of a lie, that it is possible. I was, and still am a methamphetamine addict who was very close to killing myself with a poison that I could not escape from...a demon that tried its hardest to convince me that I was worthless and there was no hope for me...that soon, I would be hers to do whatever she wanted to...and there was nothing I could do to escape. Well, you may say I got lucky...or that I am still an addict and am not out of the clutches of that demon yet. And, I cannot argue with you on that...mainly because I don't have time right now. A herd of cattle just passed my front door being driven (driven is not the right word...more guided because those bovines know exactly where they're going) by two Thais, who look for all the world like they are from the past. And as I stood watching, coffee in hand and listening to Sweet Lullaby, I cried. I don't know if it was the beauty of what I was witnessing, the peace I now feel, the music or knowing how long and hard this path I have been on has been and that has finally come to an end. The good thing about endings is that right behind them is a new beginning. I KNOW how lucky I am to be taking this, my next breath and I have no shame about the tears...they are tears of joy, not of loss and hopelessness. If you feel trapped, I am living proof that dreams can come true...you just NEED to want it enough. If you don't need it, then for sure, you will never see your dreams come to fruition...and at the end, you will have no one else to blame but yourself. If/when the satellites go down. Or a nuclear winter stops the sun from shining on the ground that has for millennia, provided the plants that sustain us. Or an algorithm makes the decision that we are the problem...that we are no longer relevant. Or a far more deadly virus rises up from our own doing. Or our very best friends on this Earth, the humble bees, no longer do the work they have done for us, for free and for so long. Or any one of a hundred other ways we can and will find to destroy ourselves. Then, who can we blame? The government? Industry? The devil? Or will we be honest enough to accept that we did this to ourselves? And it won't be toilet paper people will be fighting over in stores with empty shelves because dehydration and hunger cause constipation, and it won't take long before eight billion becomes just enough to begin again. I laugh when governments now look at UAPs as a threat to national security when we are on the brink of annihilation by way of our own stupidity, greed and ignorance. I have a theory...well, I have many actually, on what may be going on. Perhaps these unidentified objects flying around in our skies, displaying physics that are beyond our capabilities, are not aliens from outer space at all but live right here on Earth (be it, out of sight most of the time), and have done so for longer than we have. There are infinite possibilities, theoretically. They may be from a higher dimension, and if we destroy the planet, we destroy them along with it. They may reside under the oceans, or deep within the earth itself. Or...this could be the beginning of the war between good and evil...Armageddon. If you had told me that theory a year ago, I would have scoffed at you, or at least thought you to be a religious lunatic. After all, "The end is nigh!" has been bandied around since Jesus was crucified. All I know is if I am wrong I will be happy...and if I am right and this happens in my lifetime, I will die happy...will you? |
| I am on a mission to get healthy. I woke up, had breakfast, drank my first coffee in days and hit the pool. I added a few laps of breaststroke at the end of each set of freestyle laps. I wonder when the Australian crawl was renamed freestyle? There's an iconic Australian band from the 80s called 'Australian Crawl'. They didn't change their name despite the World Swimming Council deciding that our stroke was no longer exclusively ours and instead, was free for any country to master. I have a memory like an elephant, but I have to commit that event or what was said to me to my 'I'm interested' pigeonhole for it to be recalled. Tell me your name and a minute later it is gone...unless you are a pretty girl who I am interested in or someone remarkable or, if it is someone whose name I need to remember, I can commit them and will never forget. I have always believed that it is easier to lie with the spoken word than it is with the written word. I know this makes no sense because of physical giveaways like eye and body movements, sweating etc. And I don't mean that is something that happens overnight. But if you write to someone and they write back over an extended period, there are these telltale giveaways that I notice. Of course, it isn't something that can easily be proven...it's more of a gut-feeling thing...but I digress... Names elude me so I employ word association...this morning after my swim, a lady came to the pool and I said hello. Her name is Addell, and everyone knows Addell, the British singer-songwriter. She is also British, so her name is easy to remember. Her partner is called Poon...so I used Poon Tang as my word association for him. Poon plays touch rugby every Saturday afternoon at a beach not far from the apartments where we live. I asked if I could tag along and follow them on my bike...my first ride. She agreed and at 4.00 pm, we set off. I followed them and luckily for me, they needed fuel, and so did I. We arrived at the beach and I spent an hour meeting and talking to expats, then made my own way back. I stopped at the restaurant where yesterday I met the Aussie guy (Owen...no word association needed because he was remarkable) and ordered Pad Thai. After I finished eating, I paid my bill and decided to ride some more. I followed the same route to the beach and back, then stopped at the 7-Eleven to grab a few things. I knew the way back to my apartment but accidentally rode past. A bit further down the road I attempted a U-turn but ran out of road. The bike's seat height is still too tall for me, and being such a big bike it is hard to reverse. So, there I was, in complete darkness and in the middle of what felt like nowhere when the bike began to teeter to one side and toppled to the ground. I was stationary at the time and luckily, there was no damage, not even a scratch. But, the bike weighs in at 549lbs (I had just filled the 30-litre tank and I had a load of groceries in the panniers. There was no way I was going to be able to pick it up and after one attempt, my heart sank. Then, far off down the road, I spotted a single headlight coming my way. I was so relieved when the rider stopped and got off his bike to help me. Thinking he must be a Thai, I thought together we should be able to lift the bike back upright. Then, as he got closer I asked, "You speak English?" He replied in an American accent, "I sure do." I cannot begin to describe how I felt at that moment. Tears are in my eyes as I write this. This guy, who was no bigger than me, came over, kinda pushed me aside and lifted my bike up all by himself. I was amazed. He showed me (for future reference) the technique he had acquired from years of riding Harley-Davidson motorcycles. His name is Daniel and that is a name I will never forget...he came out of the darkness and saved my ass and for that, I was so grateful. But, God does work in mysterious ways. It turns out that Daniel, who was tonight on a scooter, has a Harley he bought being delivered next week. I asked if he had any friends he would be riding with and he said no. I immediately asked if we could go for a ride sometime, and he agreed. He just happened to be returning from doing a workout at a local gym...and I am looking for a gym. He knows the area well and offered to meet at 11.00 am tomorrow when he would show me around the area. Tonight, I met my Guardian Angel. His name is Daniel and came to my rescue and offered me friendship, in a place where I have no friends. Don't tell me this was a chance meeting...it was fate. Daniel doesn't drink or smoke, and I could tell straight away that he and I would get along. We will have much to talk about. He is 64 and I was born in 64. I got home and went for a swim and introduced myself to my neighbours on both sides. I also went and introduced myself to the security guard who sits out the front of our apartment block all night to protect us. What a day...what a dream life I am living. I am blessed and I will not forget my promise to my mother before she died to do something worthwhile with my life before I join her...and that's exactly what I intend to do. |
| My bike still sits in my carport awaiting me to gain the courage to take it out for its first run. It's not the bike I fear, it's the way the people drive here that scares the hell out of me. Today my realtor (one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen) arrived to sign the lease. She then kindly offered to take me to an area where I could get supplies. It wasn't very far away from my house when she dropped me off, and I set out on foot to explore the local surroundings. I walked to a 'roundabout' and stood by the side of the road watching as the traffic negotiated the chaos that is driving in Thailand. I saw a Farang approaching from my right and said hello, hoping he could speak English. He turned out to be an Aussie. He thought I was having trouble crossing the road. I commented I was just observing and trying to learn how to survive once I started riding my own bike. He then crossed the road and went into a small restaurant. I saw an opportunity I couldn't resist so I followed him into the establishment and asked if I could join him. I picked his brain as far as Hua Hin being a good place to live, how long he has been in Thailand etc. We sat eating the most delicious food and talking for well over an hour. He then pointed me in the direction of the local fresh food markets. There were stalls selling all sorts of stuff that I needed. At one stall the guy was selling washing detergent and fabric softener. I bought a kilo of powder and a litre of softener for 69 baht...that's AU$3.00. I paid with a 100 baht note and told him to keep the change. The smile was worth so much more than the $1.30 tip. At another stall, they had underwear for 35 baht a pair. I offered to buy five pairs and gave him 200 baht...keep the change and again, that smile and bow. These gestures cost me, in real terms, nothing. Yet they made me the happiest man in Hua Hin. I bought a watermelon and grapes, then headed to the 7-Eleven on the way home to get shampoo, yogurt, some milk and cereal for breakfast. I was pretty loaded up and the guy at the 7-Eleven counter asked if I wanted a lift home. He bundled me and my bags into a motorcycle with a sidecar and asked where I lived. I showed him the way, but I took a wrong turn and got lost. He was so patient and when we finally found my place, I offered to pay him, but he didn't want my money. I insisted he take 50 baht and he graciously accepted with a smile, a thank you and a bow. I went for a swim in the pool today. I put on my goggles and swam about ten laps. Rested and then did about eight. Rested and did five and then did push-ups by lifting myself out of the water, holding for ten seconds before releasing myself back into the water. I did this about twenty times. Not bad for my first day of training. Tomorrow, I will do the same, if not more. In Patong, I was using Valium to help me sleep and negate the effects of psychosis. Before I left Patong, I threw the remaining pills in the bin because I didn't want to carry them through airport customs and I don't need them anymore. I've decided no more alcohol (I had a few pina coladas in Patong and a couple of beers). No drugs of any kind are to enter my body from here on end. A good day indeed. |
| I've had a long and arduous day. It started early and I have just now had a shower (it's 1.00 am). I should be trying to get some sleep, but I have made a commitment to write a post on my blog every day...and be damned, that's what I am going to do. When I arrived at my new townhouse, I wasn't in the greatest of moods. I had spent the entire day (after arriving in Bangkok and getting into a taxi with a lovely lady who didn't speak a word of English, we set off on my mission. We used the translate app on her phone as much as possible, but these apps are not great and often misinterpret words. In the end, we gave up and drove in silence. It's a 2 1/2 hour drive from Bangkok to Hua Hin and the taxi driver didn't know the area. Google Maps is great for freeway travel, but in the multitude of laneways and back streets of Hua Hin, the directions were inaccurate. My new bike had already been delivered, but he had to wait around as he needed proof of delivery. The realtor was also waiting for me to arrive to let me in. I think we had all had enough by that stage, and knowing I had a beautiful place to rent for the next six months was lost on me when I realised I had no food, no milk, not even a kettle to boil water for a coffee in the morning. I admit, I was a little grumpy and wasn't at my best. The positives were that I had brought some dried mango, caramel macadamias, licorice and sweets along with me...and there was plenty of bottled water in the fridge. I set about unpacking and finding places for my belongings. Seriously, this place is beyond my wildest expectations as far as luxury goes. It's fully furnished (except for the kettle) and has 13 ' ceilings throughout. Downstairs there's a large modern kitchen with an island benchtop and plenty of storage underneath. Downstairs is open-plan, with a lounge room that has a TV and a balcony that leads directly onto the pool area There's ducted air-conditioning, a shower and toilet, and a large broom closet situated under the ornate timber staircase that leads upstairs to the two bedrooms. Both have queen beds and on-suites. There are locks on the bedroom doors that can be key-locked from either side. The lighting and decorations are spectacular and no expense has been spared. There's 24/7 security and the pool looks fantastic. It feels almost like resort-style living and for around AU$300 per week including water and electricity, compared to Australia, is phenomenal value for money. In the morning I need to go shopping for supplies, and once I have that done, my brand new BMW R1250 GS Adventure awaits its first ride. It needs to be fueled up before I'll take it for a short ride so I don't get lost. I need to get used to riding in Thailand and learning the technologies of the bike itself, but it won't be long before I will be planning my first adventure ride over a weekend or even for a week. I'm so tired I can hardly keep my eyes open...Talk to you tomorrow. |
| Two nights ago I ordered a crab meat soup from the hotel restaurant. I asked for mild, but what is mild to a Thai chef? After one mouthful, I questioned how hot it would have been if I had ordered it spicy. Fast forward to last night. I picked up my new gold ring (with five tiny encrusted diamonds) that required resizing and returned to my hotel where I ordered what I thought was a normal spaghetti dish. In Thailand, normal isn't normal unless it has chillis in it, and after eating this meal, which was tasty but burned with every mouthful, I went to bed. At some point during the night, as I slept, my bowels quietly let me know what they thought of my new cuisine choices. Unfortunately, accidents do on occasion happen...even to the best to us (although, unlike Mwah, not many admit it). And the icing on the cake is these mostly unmentioned incidents seem to happen at the worst possible moments. Luckily, I have a kingsized bed at my hotel. After the obligatory clean-up of pyjama shorts, using hand soap under hot water in the sink and then a damp towel to wipe away the worst of the mess on the bedsheets, I took a very much appreciated hot shower. Finally, I went back to bed...obviously on the other side. As is the way with drastically changing one's lifesyle, by the time I drifted off to sleep (isn't it funny that we have a preferred side...and how this preference can change from when we are single, to when we meet a new partner and the decision of who gets which side must be negotiated...the first indication of who has the upper hand), it wasn't long before I felt the rumble no one wants to hear and made the fast dash back to the bathroom (luckily making it just in time). That was when I was forced to make a tactical decision. Instead of only wearing my spare pyjama bottoms, I also put on underwear as an extra layer of security. I also folded several sheets of toilet paper, strategically placed (I'll let you imagine exactly where the cheapest insurance policy I ever had was positioned) just in case the nighttime crisis worsened and my sprint speed lessened. Hence to say, the situation in the control room calmed to the level of simply being pissed each time I was awakened and had to go...and there were quite a few during a long night. Then, the questions came at some point as I sat contemplating exactly what the culprit was that was disturbing my intestinal fortitude. The obvious one was the chilli...but living in a third-world country, where waterborne gastroenteritis symptoms are not to be taken lightly, other causes began to trickle into my overtired brain (only the opposite was trickling OUT of the other end of my body). I have been brushing my teeth using bottled water to rinse my mouth, but stupidly had been rinsing the brush itself under tap water before a final rinse with bottled water. A mistake I will never repeat regardless of the outcome of this episode. While doing my research to see how long I have to live if it turns out to be more than an intolerance to chilli (which I can and will work on over the coming months), I was amazed to discover just how prevalent waterborne bacteria, parasites etc are in the third world. I love swimming, and my new apartment complex has a great pool. I was planning on using it every day for exercise but the risks associated with this pastime have me thinking twice about my exercise routine. And instead of the occasional Pina Colada, beer (from a bottle) will have to become my choice of beverage if out at a restaurant. Not that I drink much alcohol anyway, but this experience has taught me a valuable lesson. The symptoms have dissipated. I have no fever or any other indication of sickness. I deliberately haven't eaten much today and am feeling rather hungry. No chilli tonight though. Perhaps a pizza will suffice. I have an early flight in the morning and at least three hours in taxis before arriving at my new digs and I DON'T want any interruptions that are not just embarrassing for me but may make my fellow traveller's day much worse than they would want. |
| I can't wait to get out of Patong. There's nothing wrong with this place, it just isn't for me. It's hectic, the entire town is built around tourism and exploiting as much out of the Farangs as possible, before they fly back to their home countries. I don't blame the Thai people for their attitude towards us, especially here in Patong where Bangla Road is full of Thai women selling sex to men who are, in general, old enough to be their grandfathers. I am not judging anyone here...the girls make their living and the men have a week or two fulfilling some sexual fantasy. It's all fake, and so long as each party understands it is simply a transaction and follows the rules, then good for them. However, the entire experience of walking down the streets of Patong has put me off thinking in terms of finding a partner. As a Farang here in Thailand, it will be hard for me to know what it is any female I meet in the future truly sees in me. This isn't just in Thailand either, and if we are being completely honest here, any meeting and forming of a relationship, especially in our later years, very much depends on what it is we bring to the table and weighing up if this new person enhances or improves our situation in some way...be it sexually or financially, depending on if you are male or female. Age comes into play as far as the spread goes. We hear about Rupert Murdock again marrying a twenty-something in his 90s, and that in itself is a transaction both parties must be happy with. Personally, I wouldn't date anyone much less than five or ten years younger than me. But the main problem with us men is we are still attracted to the same girls we were when we were twenty. A conundrum that the more I think about, the less attractive the idea of finding a partner becomes. To me it's a bit like going to the fairgrounds, seeing the giant roller coaster and thinking it looks like fun. But once you are strapped in and that thing begins to rocket through the turns and loops, the fun often turns into a nightmare..and there is no stopping or getting off it until the ride is over. My divorce was almost ten years ago, and yet, it is still very fresh in my mind. There's a saying...if it ain't broke, then don't fix it...and I am having a pretty good time right now. I seem to have gone from one extreme to another. Where in Australia, I was invisible to the opposite sex (although I must admit, I never did try any dating sites or make an effort to try and meet someone romantically). Whereas here in Thailand, it seems to be a national pastime to ask if I am single, and then tell me who in the establishment is single. I'm not sure which one I like better right now, to be perfectly honest...being invisible in Australia or here in Thailand feeling like a piece of meat with perceived cash hanging out of every pocket. I need to forget about this whole meeting someone special, fantasy, and simply live life to the fullest. The banking situation has been rectified. It's easy to confuse stupidity, ignorance and/or a lack of knowledge when looking at any problem from the outside in. My internet banking app on my laptop has a button that reads, International Transfers. I have a code generator app on my phone. Then once the transfer is made using the correct swift code and account numbers, and then the code generator number is entered into the system, the next day I receive an email from my bank with another code. Once I call them on the number supplied in the email, and then answer a few basic questions like my date of birth and mother's maiden name, I recite the code and whalla...the money shows up in the receiver account by day's end. It may appear to be overkill, but I do get why they are super careful, after all, if it's a scam, it's their money that gets stolen and not mine. So...two more nights in my hotel in Patong. Then at 6.00 am on Thursday, I'll take a taxi to Phuket International Airport for a 9.00 am flight to Bangkok...arriving around 10.30. Then another taxi ride to the BMW dealership to ensure the bike has all the accessories I ordered and is ready for delivery. I'm now thinking of an aftermarket exhaust pipe to get that sound I am after and add a few extra horses to the 132 HP it already has (with 105 foot-pounds of torque). I'll buy a set of leathers, a pair of boots and a helmet (not BMW original accessories though because they are ridiculously expensive) from another dealer, before getting in a taxi for the two-hour drive to Hua Hin. Over the last week, I've been spending money like it's going out of fashion...which it is. Soon, at least in Australia, there's talk of making the country cashless. Where everyone will pay for goods and services by card only. They want to stamp out tax evasion, try and get a grip on money laundering and make it harder for dealers to hide drug profits. But no matter how they legislate, the criminals will always find a way to get around these things...Bitcoin will be one way the crime syndicates will ask for payments from customers. I have most of the money from the sale of my house invested in a term deposit for nine months at 5% per annum... which returns a reasonable amount after tax. But with the world situation looking precarious right now and could get even worse over the next year or two, I'm thinking of getting a safety deposit box here in Thailand and buying gold bullion. Depending on how the price of gold is once the term deposit matures. I think gold is one of the safest commodities. It will always hold its value, as opposed to cash in a bank account that if things get really bad on the world scene, paper money could become almost worthless. |
| When I last visited Thailand in 2018, I bought a gold ring. It was only a nine-carot pinky ring, but I loved it because it reminded me of my first trip to this wonderful country. How ironic it is that about a week ago, it went missing. I have no idea what happened to it. It may have come off while I was swimming in the pool, or perhaps while washing my hands on the trip to Bangkok. In any case, it's gone and I don't think I will ever see it again. I try to think about it like this...someone somewhere would have found it, and now the ring belongs to them. If I was meant to keep the ring, God wouldn't have allowed it to slip unknowingly from my finger and I would still be the owner. Tonight, as I walked along Patong Beach marketplace, I noticed a jewellery store, and something drew me to it. I've walked past so many since I realised the ring was missing, but tonight I walked into that particular store and found a replacement ring. Not only did I find a new ring, but I met a beautiful girl who I instantly took a liking to. She is Islamic (that in itself pretty much rules me out), but there was something in the way she looked at me that got my heart racing. What I am doing right now is practising...flirting with any girl (except bar girls) who crosses my path and shows me a smile that is genuine. I can tell which is which through years of being single (which hones certain skills in detecting real from fake). I'm having fun being single AND looking...just looking without any real need to find someone. Because of addiction, and the shame that brought...and my commitment to care for my mother and not wanting to be torn between having that responsibility and finding romantic love, my vibe has for a very long time, been pushed down, rather than what it is now...inviting and carefree. In Australia, I was an addict (I still am, but it just feels very different here in Thailand). Back then, in my own mind, I was unworthy of love (in a romantic sense). But now, in a country where age is not looked at in the same way, and the people I am flirting with (hopefully) see me as something more than just a middle-aged man desperate for attention from much younger women...but rather someone who could provide security and a lifestyle that will not be seen by someone from my own country, who likely hasn't lived in constant poverty...a person who struggles every single day just to get by. And I like that idea. I want someone who hasn't been spoiled by Western privilege (I understand that there are poor in every society...but third-world poverty is simply not the same, in my opinion). I like the idea of meeting someone who has known real hardship...someone who has little opportunity to escape the life they live. I want a girl who works hard and still has hope for her future, with or without me and what I bring to the table. If God wants me to meet her, she will appear; if not, I will be fine with that too. But in the meantime, it feels good to be putting myself out there on a daily basis, after so many years of being invisible, ignored and looked at as an old man who isn't worthy of love (which was not only felt by me from others but from my own thoughts whenever I looked in the mirror). Since arriving in Thailand, I've walked every day...and there have been days when I could hardly make it up the ramp to the hotel foyer. Early on, I bought a facial cleanser, a loofah and a night moisturising cream. I have used them every day. Now, instead of shame and self-doubt, I consider myself the prize. I know there is some lucky girl out there who will see me...like a fossicker who works hard every day searching for a diamond among the dirt and rocks lying on the ground. And hopefully, she will see the glint that is in my eye. And as she puts that tiny stone in her mouth to wash off the grime and discovers she has found a gem...the one she has been searching for her entire life, I will never let her feel anything but love, appreciation, commitment and the desire to make that relationship more and more special every day. There is something to be said about being alone for so long. It has given me time to reflect on the mistakes I made. The things that I miss...like having someone to care for. To simply feel someone's skin against my own. To be looked at the way I want to be looked at. To have someone to share this new life with me, and not spending the days and nights alone anymore, is a dream I feel is worth pursuing...but not a necessity |
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