John Ward, CPS (professional label included in this case vis-a-vis pedagogical self-deprecation) composed the following PDF during the heights/depths of his first Bipolar episode c. 2012.
In 2012 I thought I was on to Something with a conviction whose profundity rendered the notion “ridiculously absurd” both ridiculously and absurdly inadequate to capture its own ridiculous absurdity. That might sound hyperbolic -and I suppose in some sense it is.
In attempting to convey manic intensity while not manically intense I fall victim to the fallacy of believing one can, using discreet units like words, relay to a normie the qualia of Bipolar mental states – particularly mania. Hyperbole is not a term that applies to this sort of thing, in maybe the same categorical way an astrophysicist lacks the language to capture (with appropriate anthropic relativity) the scale of a supernova.
Anyway – with regards to being on to Something – I wasn’t, or at best was so outrageously incoherent that no one (including myself) will ever know. In short, I believed everything could be understood through tetrahedrons.
I do have a hard science background, but I did not (and still don’t) know jack shit about Dynkin diagrams, combinatorics, Lie groups, and most of the stuff I for some reason threw into this “research article.” I even screwed up the nonsensical math, embarrassingly asserting the square root of a variable (in my case mass) was calculated by dividing it in half, then multiplying (in other words, somewhere during that section I mistook multiplication for addition).
I sent the following paper in the exact form you will read to a number of physicists and mathematicians – straight to their university e-mails. Yes, I actually got a few responses. No, they were NOT positive. Haha.
I’m posting it here along with the humiliating backstory in my best effort to circumvent that problem with words I previously mentioned – to provide for any interested normies an example of where a manic mind can go and how it can connect legitimate information and language in all kinds of extreme and weird ways.
It is important to know that while writing this “research paper” I was NOT under the influence (excluding Bipolar mania). I was sleeping maybe an hour every three or four days and eating about as often – and I felt better than I had ever felt in my entire life.
Looking back on this very, very absurd paper years later has become something of a pedagogical tool for me and those I’ve worked with through Peer Support. I emphasize how good I actually felt, the sense of invincible infallibility, incomparable self-assuredness and confidence, limitless energy, and the elements of cohesion perverted by infinite (and incorrect) connectivity.
Sometimes when talking about mania I get the comment, “That actually sounds kind of fun!” That is precisely what’s so insidious about it, perhaps more so even than suicidal depression – it is, simply put, the most awesome (in the original sense of that word, as derived from “awe”) feeling one can possible have.
Categorically, however, the danger is the same as suicidal depression – 100% certainty. Certainty that you know something, some (or all) outcomes, whether it’s being some sort of messiah (manic certainty) or some worthless pariah (depressive certainty). Mania – in the thick of it – feels fantastic. It’s the aftermath that hurts, and why it is as equally dangerous as suicidal depression.
Maybe a better, more concise way to say it – we’ve all known someone with a “death wish,” or an “adrenaline junkie.” You can use that as a rough analogy for the mindset that produces papers like my Anthropic Model – suicide can occur on purpose through depression, or by accident through mania (in this case, credibility suicide).
Or perhaps it’s the other way around – on purpose through mania, by accident through depression. But that’s a thought for another time.
Enough of that – here it is: