Beware the American Dream...

EGADS... I am such a Man-Child!

I’m posting today something I wrote on one of the most peculiar and saddest days I’ve experienced in memory. Just a couple of days ago. Seems like a million miles and years away, I have had so much fun and learnt so much since. Read on, cats and kittens...


I haven’t written on my blog for a long time and I haven’t uploaded any art either.

I guess I have been pretty busy with my life and haven’t really done too much artistic work outside of my job, which is in many ways quite creative. I think I’m like a lot of artists who kind of need some strong inspiration to do some work. And to be successful you have to ride the lightning when it comes. Work, work, work...

This can be any kind of inspiration.

For instance I discovered an excellent photographer the other day that is deeply moved by exceptionally beautiful scenes in nature. This guy was brilliant; he trekked to some of the most remote locations to capture moments in time that were so incredible.


For a while now I have been interested in the idea of meeting someone from a different country and culture. I have chatted to a few women online and have enjoyed this variety.


This led to a relationship with an American woman online. I always found the idea kind of off-putting, and the refuge of losers but it seemed really natural and relaxed. Ours was a chance meeting and it seemed too good to be true. We seemed to connect on so many levels; intimately and dare I say spiritually. She was so pretty, and smart, and sensitive. We shared so much and became very close and intimate. I began to wonder if meeting online was a brilliant new phenomenon of the technological age.

The last time we spoke on Skype she actually became teary when we logged off… I was really touched by this little slip of emotion. She is a bit of a toughie.

To be honest, I suppose I might be a little love starved.

But then again I’m no beggar on the street of love either.

Anyway, as a Californian who lives in Jersey she was visiting family in San Francisco so with her prompting and ultimately her booking for me I found myself trekking all the way from Sydney to spend a few nights with her. I was so excited; I’d never really been anywhere and we just seemed so right.

So, we were so close, I felt like I was walking on air. After many months Christmas ‘09 rolled along and the January 22 date drew nearer. I fell ill with bronchitis until New Years and took life very easy.

My contact with my little friend changed in January ‘10 though. She told me that we were going to talk less and that this would be a nice build up for our meeting. It felt kind of cute but it also felt kind of wrong. Something wasn’t right and I wondered why…

I arrived, she met me at the airport with family and they seemed so nice, really went out of their way to make me welcome and showed me around. I won’t talk about personal intimacy but we were alone we finally shared some and it was really nice, a little awkward at first, but really I felt terrific. Not the sort of things you do with someone you don’t care for.

It all sort of changed in a day though.

One day if felt wonderful, the next totally different.

She went for a long walk alone first thing in the day while I conquered as much of my jet-lag as I could, and we spent the rest of the day with members of her family again. I felt like we were getting no time alone and when we did she was tired and I was reluctant to push anything.

Thanks to the jet-lag and this I was much quieter than I have been in years. Kind of faded into the background, which is so unlike me.

This morning she woke before me and got ready to go out. She had packed her bags. I felt like she wasn’t interested in my company when I woke and after a fashion she wasn’t interested in my embraces, or any such warmth. OK, I can cope with this I thought. People have their moments.

She went for another walk and I felt so fucking flat I thought I would deflate like a punctured pool-pony. I leapt out of bed and stared getting ready; I’m going for a walk on my own, fuck-it. I can dish it out as well, the cold shoulder.

What a load of shit. Communication is the key to resolving anything; I guess I have to at least thank her for that.

She returned much sooner than expected. I was caught putting my socks on.

We went to breakfast in a local Ihop – International house of pancakes. There we were, sitting in a diner-style booth like in so many movies. She asks me why I have been kind of distant and I blurt out I feel like she has no interest in me.

She blurts herself;

“I met someone three-weeks-ago”.

I’m in shock… What..?

Oh my god; it all makes sense. I can’t believe it. Why didn’t you tell me..? I knew it I knew it I knew it I knew it…

I was a little insulting. I mean I kept my cool and was polite but I asked her if she and this man were intimate, using the least polite terminology. I don’t even remember her reply; it wasn’t total denial however. I’ve found myself at a point where I wondered whether I can trust the things she tells me after she made a few slips of the tongue over the last couple of days.

Mark Twain once said, “If you tell the truth, you don’t have to remember anything…”

People intrigue me, they really do. I have often wondered if I should study psychology. I astound myself also. I am a stupid, stupid guy sometimes.

I asked her why she had done this to me. Her response was she didn’t want to let me down and ‘ruin my holiday’. Well. I don’t know how to rationalize that, I really don’t. All I could mutter was “How can you do this to me…” repeatedly. I was in shock. To be honest, I think I still am.

“I traveled a third of the way around the world to see you…”

“I introduced you to my family…” she trailed off the thought.

“Yes - and they were all lovely…” I responded.

“Oh my god – you have to go, I cannot believe this” I can recall exclaiming. “I can’t share a hotel room with you, I can’t do this… You have to go…”


Was I a prick..? I was astounded by my composure, to tell the truth. It is my room. I paid for it, and I’m sitting in it like a loser now, writing this.

“I’ve already packed…” she said.

So, she was out of there. The last thing I said was “I knew this would happen, it always happens because I’m a nice guy”. The last refuge of the jilted dickhead.

“You’re not a nice guy Simon”

She threw it at me like a monkey throws his dung, muttering something about paying for her coffee with a couple of crinkly $1 greenbacks which fell on the table, before storming off at as high a speed as her little legs would carry her.

A minute or so passed, and I did the same. I apologize to the Fisherman’s Wharf Ihop for the food I ordered that I didn’t eat; I did pay for my coffee I drank though in the same fashion. I honestly thought I was going to lose it. I have never felt so alone. At no point did I raise my voice or become really offensive I’m proud to say.

I was so bewildered, so head-fucked all I could do was walk back to the hotel room in a daze.

I ran into her in the hallway… Amazing really that I went the way I did and she was exiting the same way from the labyrinthine complex.

“Good luck with your life Johninie” was all I could manage.

I got no response. I wasn’t trying to be facetious; it was truly how I felt, and all I could summon.


I think inadvertently I have done her the biggest favour; I have given her an ‘out’; she can blame me and tell people what a bastard I am and how I threw her into the street. Hardly; she had already packed her bags and was prepared for this outcome. Maybe even counting on it.

By all rights I should be furious; really disgusted with how this has turned out. Strangely, I’m not. I just feel deeply disappointed, and disillusioned. How can something so right feel so wrong..? It really felt as deep as a regular relationship. Just in unusual, long distance circumstances. I guess by virtue of the fact I don't understand means I have no idea of how to be a callous person like some others are.

(And I look great in a red cape, flying across metropolis and walking on water back in Nazareth too...)

In a way there are so many things I wish I’d said to her and done with her. I was so jetlagged and confused, I wasn’t my usual gregarious and outgoing self. As an Aussie who sticks out like a sore thumb at home I’m pretty outnumbered by loud people in the US. Especially in a tourist trap like Fisherman’s Wharf. And I simply didn’t want to come across as an arrogant arsehole.

I’m a peculiar guy. I think I’m a pretty good person though. I don’t lie, steal or cheat. I avoid hurting people and have steered away from relationships where I have felt like there is no future in them. From the earliest I can, I have pulled the pin on them my whole life. I don’t feel desperate when alone and I despise the idea of using someone or hurting them.



But here I am, on the other side of the world, jilted and alone. I literally know no one apart from her and her family (who I really don’t know); have one person’s phone number and she sure as hell doesn’t want to talk to me. Let’s face it – that’s out of the question. Chances are she’s not even in this city anymore. I have a buddy in Nevada however I don’t want to impose myself on him, it’s been a while since we spoke and I always promised I’d visit if I was around – and I haven’t told him I am.

So, I crapped out and I didn’t even go to Vegas.

I guess I could have woken up with a kidney missing and a tattoo of a needle and thread where the stitching should be though...

I don’t understand how someone can be so shallow and callous. I suppose that’s a simple, one sided view, but I really don’t know how you can go from saying the things you do to someone you care for, the things she said to me, the tears online, to being so cold. I didn’t pass off any photos of George Clooney as me, so it can’t be that.

A former room-mate of mine was a nice guy but a bit of a know-all. He said to me once when we were still living together: “You will never know until you meet her”. He was so right, I guess. I said before I left home, at least I will know; I’m not going to die wondering.


So, this post was a portrait she nagged me to paint for her. It was a surprise and seemed to be received well; only other people gave it more of a “WOW” than she did. Another little thing which adds-up now I mention it. It was no surprise it was still in the hotel room, neatly packaged the way I had done it for her.



The Portrait on her bed... Just before I posted it and fumigated...

Her Birthday is a week from today; this was her gift. I don’t have the heart to throw it in to San Francisco Bay like some token forlorn gesture. I’ve done enough here online, rather fittingly. I think I’ll mail it to her back in New Jersey. I hope she feels even just a pinch-of-shit of regret before she crams it into the garbage in front of her house. She should, she’ll never meet someone like me ever again.

I’m posting this tonight as some form of lonely therapy. I went shopping like a man-woman and saw Sherlock Holmes to cheer myself up. It didn’t work much, but I’m sure I’ll feel better as time passes. I guess it’s unlike any other relationship because it built up to this point of arrival – literally – and suddenly fell so flat. She won’t ever see this so it doesn’t matter. I’m sure I’ve been facebook-de-friended by now. I couldn’t be bothered even checking.

It’s sad. She seemed so great, but all she turned out to be was a bald faced liar. As far as I can tell, anyway. I don't mean to rubbish the woman, but hey - c'mon...

She did tell the truth in the end though, but I wonder if that makes it any better..? Knowing the personality at work, I feel certain she thinks she’s in the absolute right. I don’t mean to demean her, but this is the type of behavior I’d left behind myself in my teens – early twenties. So I guess, life has done me a favour and I’ve dodged a bullet. She has had a tough time of late, so I guess she deserves some happiness. Karma is a bitch though, and even if you don’t believe in it people who do this to others usually cop what they deserve in the long run.

What astounds me, what truly amazes me is how I played such a backseat role in this whole episode. I make no apologies for being a passive man when it comes to relationships with women, as it’s just the person I am. I’ve been walked over many times in my life and really don’t let it phase me. I won’t lower myself to be a jerk or a sleazebag, and I’m proud if this. Regardless, in this case I was truly in the back-seat. She drove the bus on this whole affair. She encouraged me to the hilt – sent me endless love letters, romantic songs, personal items… Sexy messages, sexy photos… I have a box full of nicely laundered boutique lingerie reeking of expensive perfume she sent over several months which I threw out twice.

I can’t touch it – makes me want to vomit and laugh at the same time. But I have kept it like some evidence kit to prove to my friends I’m not mad.

We talked for hours, she ran up massive phone bills for herself. Unbelievable. Whenever I expressed my doubts or concern for her overwhelming and seemingly sudden affection for me I was told not to “Be so cold – don’t be afraid of me (her)” and that “I (she) won’t hurt you Simon”.

Yeak, riiiight...

"I have never been with a man I was in love with. I wan't you to be the first".

It seems laughable but it's all true. She got NOTHING from me, It feels like a scam but there was really nothing she got but my time and a monochrome portrait. If she in fact eventually got it...

Twice I tried to get rid of her after I caught her lying to me and she managed to worm her way back. Initially she had some type of breakdown at work and had to go home. The second time she tried to introduce group sex into the equation. She and some dirty girlfriend were trying to sex it up, she'd clearly felt envious and wanted to get in on the act. Eventually it all turned out to be bullshit, and I took exception to this. I'm very open minded to anything - except lies and dishonesty.

Thank god I didn’t fall for her; I’d be shattered now. As it is I’m pretty astounded. I realize I’m pretty naïve but this whole episode in my life has been quite a gas in a way. If she was someone from an impoverished country trying to gain entry into mine I’d be able to put two & two together. But she wasn’t. & every time I expressed concern for her being on some type of rebound I was shot down as not knowing what I was talking about.

She booked me the trip. She nagged me to come.

And she met someone else on New Years Eve. Incredible.

Anyone would think I am lying and this story is a work of fiction. I am hurt and trying to make myself look good, and discredit her. But I swear it’s all true. And I know she is a liar, so I have nothing on my conscience.

So there you go bored people in cyber-land reading this pap. The world has grown smaller thanks to technology; however I can tell you that’s difficult to digest when you are alone in a big city in a foreign country, tens of thousands of miles from the people who really love you.

The real lesson I have learnt is not that online meeting is bad, or that American people are bad, or women are evil. Or that adversity makes us self reflect, resourceful and strengthens us, although the latter are certainly true.

It’s made me realize that if you have a hunch about something, if something feels like it isn’t quite right, isn’t comfortable or doesn’t add up, then chances are you are right.


Always trust your instincts. Sometimes it’s all you have.

And if life hands you a lemon: tell it to get the fuck out of your hotel room, (in more polite terms if at all possible).

Life's too short to be used and taken advantage of.

(Oh, and as nice as San Francisco is – Sydney craps all over it for beauty and live-ability. I’m really, despite all these silly shenanigans – one lucky cat. Any lovely gal's out there need not be perturbed, I'm not giving up... I'm sure you're out there somewhere).

The Waterfall

It’s an art school cliché that the most naïve and fresh out of high school student will always paint a waterfall; just like they will always develop large, underexposed glossy black and white images of their dog or cat in their first Photography lessons. What’s important and touching to their impressionable eye and sensibilities is banal shite to the initiated mind and trained eye.

I grew up near a waterfall and typical of most parts of Australia it was either trickling like a gutter in dry spells or gushing like a Hydroelectric Plant after periods of rain.

The local council have built a walking path through there in recent years; it’s kind of lost it’s charm as it was such a difficult spot to climb down to many people didn’t bother making the effort. I honestly believe there will be more damage done to the forest rather than prevented by visitors. Idiots in grass roots council can never be told.

I have done a series of painting relating to the waterfall over the years, because it was a place my friends and I visited and had adventures in; later we drank booze there by the fire and took girls. It was a magical kind of place; the constant running water was kind of meditative; like white noise in the background.

I like the idea of it being a secluded and relaxing place but with an element of danger. When I began this doodle I had included a figure of a man looking down on the woman lying in the sun below. I painted him out of it; it made me uncomfortable but perhaps it was a mistake. Who knew what the man’s motives were. Was he a dangerous man, looking to harm her… or just looking..? Was he a gay guy walking his dog, admiring her fashion sense..? Was he her boyfriend, bringing her some lunch..? I like this ambiguity.

Many feminist thinkers, artists and philosophers have suggested that the waterfall as a motif is a euphemism for the vagina. The meeting point of a valley, moisture, somewhere life springs from. Goodness-gracious. How embarrassing, he said, mopping his brow. I do like girls, very much actually, but I don’t think I had this in mind.

Or did I..? The collective consciousness may be having the last laugh.



I think the painting needs to be pushed a lot further so I view this as a study; an experiment.


Stay tuned; when I find time I may just be able to get back into the waterfall again.

Study of The Venus de Milo

Lead pencil study of the Venus de Milo

Aphrodite of Milos (Greek: Αφροδίτη της Μήλου, Aphroditē tēs Mēlou), better known as the Venus de Milo, one of the most famous works of ancient Greek sculpture. Created some time between 130 and 100 BC, it is believed to depict Aphrodite (Venus to the Romans) the Greek goddess of love and beauty. It is a marble sculpture, slightly larger than life size at 203 cm (6 ft 8 in) high. Its arms and original plinth have been lost. From an inscription that was on its plinth, it is thought to be the work of Alexandros of Antioch; it was earlier mistakenly attributed to the master sculptor Praxiteles. It is at present on display at the Louvre Museum in Paris.

Famed for her missing arms, I have always wondered if she was actually playing the banjo.

In all seriousness, archeologists and art historians believe her right arm extended across her torso, her hand resting on her left knee, as if holding up her drapery. The left arm was holding an apple at roughly eye level.

Not every apple will keep the doctor away, least of all a marble one; but aside from her missing arms old father time has been pretty kind to her.

Christ Triptych

A while ago I produced this Christian triptych for a fundraiser my Mother was running. It seemed to produce a really positive response from everyone who viewed it.

I’m not a religious person; I have many issues with organized religion, and my own beliefs which are complex and ironically simple at the same time. I still believe though there is a great deal of good which comes from it, such as community support, tradition, enlightenment on many levels and sheer goodness.

There really isn’t enough of that in the world so it should be encouraged, not mocked or derided.

I chose a triptych as it’s a type of work which developed through Christianity. In the first few centuries as the church developed, folding three-piece screens were set up behind altars for masses. After a period, Christian motifs appeared on them and this developed directly into the tradition of multi-paneled painting and associated art which is employed world-wide throughout studios and galleries.

In producing this work I was aiming for imagery which everyone could relate to. Elderly people, little children, those who don’t normally view art, and hopefully some of those who do. The result is it’s a little benign by some standards. Regardless, it touched people on some level and for this I’m glad.

It also raised several thousand for impoverished people in South America, so for this I’m very glad.

Faded Thoughts

I found an old photo of an ex-girlfriend in a book I picked up last night. Realized I hadn't thought about her in a long time. It seemed a lifetime ago. It's funny how time changes the way you feel. Once apon a time you feel like you would die for someone, then you feel the oppposite, then you feel nothing.

Sometimes in life that is, happily it doesen't always turn out that way.

Still, made me think. Wondered how she was. Not exactly intrigued, too much water has passed under the bridge, but hope she’s doing well.

Remembered these little sketches I'd scanned from an old sketchbook of our time together. Pretty good.

The Cabinet Sketch

In keeping with the theme of posting old drawings, I found this little sketch I did a year ago today.

How amazing that I would sit down at my parents place and discover it on their computer..?

I’ve always been the type of sentimental person who looks at old things I have held onto; even movie tickets, and wondered what I was doing on that day. What I was thinking… Feeling… Was I happy or otherwise?

Today I can look at this drawing with the scribbled little date underneath it and know this time last year I was doing a drawing of my grandmother’s old cabinet.

She passed away not quite 20 years ago now. So much has changed.

I wonder what she would have though of it..?

Drawing Lessons

A few years ago I worked for a business which was treating me poorly. I was in a role where I was dealing with our clients when they were in a very vulnerable position, and I had to inconvenience them to perform my duties. Often, clients were very stubborn, difficult and belligerent towards me. By the same token, some were really terrific and later even sent me gifts. This is what happens when you deal with all kinds of members of the public. Conversely, however, I had regular complaints made about me. This was accepted within the industry as a normal, ongoing occurrence. Not so for the idiots I worked directly for.

I’d been through some unpleasant industrial action where essentially I came out on top and they appeared very foolish, after breaking numerous laws they were unaware of. I paid them the compliment of making them aware of these without taking any legal action against them. I was even verbally abused at one point in a private meeting with the director. I kept my cool and can laugh about it today. Put it this way; I wasn’t as if I was in-the-shit or not-in-the-shit with my employers; I was ALWAYS in the shit. It was just the depth of it which varied. They were used to pushing thier employees around, and I, not being used to being pushed around, had nothing to lose.

There were good things about the place. The other people were great, but ultimately it was a shitty, in-between job and I got a kick out of being a thorn in their side for a short time there.

Let me just say it was the kind of organization which required serenity within the workplace, and the client to be as relaxed as possible. Whilst in a quiet period between bouts with the management, they approached me to paint a mural in one of their rooms they serviced their clients in. (No, it was not a brothel, in case you were wondering. It may sound that way as I'm attempting to be discreet about them).

Here I was, being screwed by ‘The Man’, and they wanted me to paint them a pretty picture on their wall.

In my OWN time no less. When I enquired as to whether they would replace me whilst I did it and when we would find time when the room was free, it was suggested I should do it out of hours… (!?!?)

These people really were the pits; the unmitigated nerve and audacity of them. I certainly learnt a few lessons from them though. Things turned to worms shortly after and I received a nice payout for, ahem, resigning. Gladly, I thought, for a tidy little sum. Recently I unearthed this sketch I prepared for the mural. It’s quite good, although I suspect it’s the story I just told which is more fascinating. I do remember the Director being wholly impressed with it.

I think I’ll develop it into a painting. It needs a tidy-up; the perspective is out of whack; the water above the waterfall would be visable I imagine. The irony is as I discovered later, certain philosophers and schools of psychology have suggested that the waterfall is an extremely sexual image, laden with subconscious meaning. All they wanted was something relaxing. I should have done it with little rude subliminal messages hidden in it. That would have been great.

The last week I worked there they tried to con me again by telling me my severance papers weren’t ready, and I’d have to come in the following week. I took great satisfaction in telling them that "Under no circumstances will I be coming in next week: I don’t want to work here anymore". Ha. Not exactly Take this job & Shove it, but wholy satisfying.

In true shonky fashion, the paperwork was ready for me to sign the very next day.

Not a bad line drawing though, and something prepaired directly out of my imagination, for people with absolutely no imaginations of their own.


And I never even charged the jerks a cent for it.