Last week, a twelve year old boy in Taree set fire to an important infrastructural cable box and cause a massive internet outage stretching all the way up the north coast. This included Mullumbimby. So we were without connection for about 24 hours +.

At the time, I didn't know it was the whole area down and tried various measures to investigate and fix what could have been just our household. Nothing worked. Offing and onning, plugging and unplugging; the usual stuff. Resigned, I just did other things with my time.

I am happy, of course, that it is now back on. Being online is fun. There are limitless pathways in all kinds of directions. Facebook, movies, news, editorials, humour, messaging friends, social updates, things for sale... Like I said; limitless. 

Anyway, before we were reconnected, I thought back to the early days, back when I was in my teens and twenties. There was no internet then. Not even computers. And no mobile phones. It's weird to consider that now.

What was different? Well, for starters there was considerably more inter-personal relating. I refused to have a television for almost a decade. (I hated commercials. And the sameness and constriction, lack of choice of TV - especially back in the 80's.) So, there a lot more reading going on. And other simple pleasures like listening to music (records), staring at the covers, perusing and considering lyrics, making sculptures, making zines, painting, doing outdoorsy things.

Because it was harder to contact each other, we tended to stay in hubs, connect and co-ordinate activities together. It was surprising 'primitive' comparatively, for lack of better word. One could also say more grounded, basic, simple. And these are not bad things. In fact, they are overly diminished these days. A re-balancing is in order. (But unlikely.)

I'm a big fan of technology and use it often and thoroughly. I use my iPad to make music, I draw comics and create complex collages on my large screen phone. At home, I'm on my iMac in the evening, on Photoshop or Indesign, or scouring the net for juicy new things for a good four of five hours. I love the fact that I can have facetime with my brother and his boys in San Fran, that I can email my Mum a few times a week, send images via text, bounce emojis back and forth with friends, enjoy the variety of posts of my fb crew. I missed all that shit when the net was down. I noticed it's absence.

I even love the way I can write this journal, this blog, sitting in my room in my tiny town on the coast of Australia and post it upon completion and know that within minutes my friends in Japan, the US, Sweden, Germany, Brazil.... wherever... can read it, absorb it, comment if they want. 

This kind of thing was unthinkable back in the late 70's and 80's. Now it is common. But still a thrill. 

I am glad, though, that I was able to spend my first three decades in a simpler time. It was a good grounding. It was a different place. I appreciate both sides of the coin, equally. What is coming up is anyone's guess. Well, not really... we know some of the big stuff... augmented reality, 3D printing, electric transport, drones, flying cars, etc. Advancements are getting faster and faster. Hopefully human consciousness and awareness will stay aligned, at least catch up, so that everyone can have a fair go. At the moment, the imbalance is obvious, unjust and unsustainable. The ones with power are lacking in ethics. Oh, yeah, and our environment, the planet, seems to be heading towards possible self destruction. That.

Steve Smith is a Bondi legend. We've known each other from around North Bondi since the early 90's. You'll always see him painting a wall or a sign outside whatever new joint has popped up in the area. We worked out yesterday during a chat that he's probably responsible for about 25% of the painted signage in the much loved beach suburb over the last three decades.

I bought one of his paintings from the Mori Gallery in Sydney back in the 90's and it's one of a very few I have ever purchased. Usually I'll do a swap but in Steve's case I didn't feel that suggestion to be appropriate (although he possibly would have said yes), plus I happened to have the spare cash at that time (a rare thing for an artist). It was a good investment anyway, having tripled in value. 

In a word, Steve's art is trippy. It is populated with eccentric characters in eerie, post apocalyptic, dreamy, carnival scenarios. There's a mixture of dark humour, social commentary, playful provocation and wild fantasy. His style is detailed and accomplished, a kind of realism in a stylised comic book form. 

His output is prodigious and his work ethic is strong, matched by his natural talent, great colour sense and steady hand. His large pencil drawings are also extremely impressive.

As an artist, a decade or so my elder, I have always admired his dedication and devotion to his talent. He'll come home from a long day sign writing or painting on a film set and get straight into a session of painting or drawing of one of his own new works.

His personality is vivacious and gritty. He's been around the block more times than most and he'll be the first to admit that the fact that he's still around is a near miracle. For myself and many other of his friends and followers from around Bondi and beyond, it is always an enriching pleasure to bump into him (on his pushy, usually, or up a ladder) and share a few moments with a man of great character and experience, rough around the edges and not afraid to speak his mind, but with a heart of gold.

(Click on the image to see some more of his works.)

So this is where I am at in a loose timeline with my creative life:

On the strength of my comedy radio show, The Wonderful Thing, on Bay FM and my comedic monologues in '05 and '06 for the writing competition Once Upon A Deadline (you can view the actual performances here), I was invited to perform an original comedy piece in NYC at the New City Theatre as part of The Globesity Festival. As luck would have it a close friend of mine in LA was going away on a film shoot and invited me to house mind in Santa Monica for the subsequent six months. The plan was to hook up through some existing contacts and try and get a TV writing gig. I'd completed my UCLA screenwriting courses a few years previous and had written six features by then, so I was confident and ready to attempt living and working there. As fate would have I landed during the infamous (and extended) writer's strike. No work for anybody. 

Cut to arriving back in Australia, still amped and hungry to write / make things happen. I approached the legendary comedian Austentayshus with some film ideas and we did some brainstorming together. Nothing on film came from it but a friendship evolved and Austentayshus invited me to go on a stand-up tour with him and see if I liked it. I was part of a duo - two dumb, Ocker doormen - called The Boing Boyz. I had done stand up solo before on numerous occasions - but never billed and paying gigs.

Let's just say it was a learning experience. What I learnt was stand up is fucking hard. As much as I love comedy and enjoy performance, the pressure and expectation from pub and club crowds tests the mettle of the most devoted. I surrendered. Lesson learnt - stand up was not for me.

Back to painting. I was sleeping on the floor (on a futon) of my parent's walk-in-wardrobe at the time. Almost fifty, yes. I had made it! They were kind and gracious enough to put up with my presence for a number of years as I re-established myself. But was I ever established in the first place? Hmmm... Regardless, I boldly decided to have an exhibition of small works (done in the wardrobic space) of a couple less than fifty paintings called '48 Reasons To Love'. The show went pretty well and encouraged more painting. 

Around that time I met a kiwi girl who also liked art and we made a studio in her Bondi garage. I went to the studio everyday and produced a large volume of works. And they were larger. From there I had two more shows of my paintings. Cut to the dramatic break up. Worst part: no more studio. Hundreds of orphan paintings stored in a-friend-of-a-friend's garage, then when she moved half in another benevolent friend's garage and the rest in the spare room of a divorced guy I knew from poker. 

With nowhere to go to physically paint anymore I was excited and uplifted to discover a symbiotic and rewarding relationship with digital creation. The newly released Samsung Galaxy Note had a large screen, great colours and a nifty S-Pen that allowed me to create a new studio - one that I could carry in my pocket. I created new works everyday in cafes, at the library and in my car, parked at the beach during the day or outside a club at night, waiting for the next poker game to commence.

For the next two and a half years, I made new pictures. I was able to find a way to print the best ones as limited edition art prints and had three successful exhibitions of the works. 

After doing 5,000 of these images, the newest generation of the Note, the Note4 was released. I got it on the release day. It was wonderful to have jumped from one to four. The quality and speed improvements were huge. I was excited. But doing more of the same didn't feel right. It felt like the end of that era. I had graduated. Somehow I decided to work only in black and white. And to include text. And to make them observational, commentary, funny. You know, like comics. Yeah, they were comics. And, with a bit of focus and devotion and trial and error... they came pouring out. 

So, I've done 2,000 of them now. We're in the present. I have decided to collect them and put them in a book. A paperback of 200 or so pages. Actually, three of them. A trilogy. So I have gone back through all the work and selected the top 600. The ones that will be published. I'm going to start with the first book, first. Makes sense. There are considerable processes involved - using Photoshop (which I have skills with) and InDesign for the formatting (which I will have to learn). But, I have my mission. I plan to have the first, self-published, run out by year's end. And, the other two in reasonably quick succession. 

Comics are fun because they make people smile and laugh and feel good about life. And that's something I have always enjoyed. So, it's a good place to be in.

It makes sense to feed yourself nourishing, healthy, natural food. The body responds well to it, functions smoothly, grows and repairs from it. There is encouragement from some elements of society and the government to do so but there is an even stronger push - in the form of advertising and marketing from corporate factions - to get people to consume processed edible items that are overloaded with sugars, salts and a variety of toxins (including GMOs) simply for their taste and/or convenience.

We are used to this now, as a species. Many are trapped in a unthinking cycle of buying and consuming foods that don't sprout from nature and are conceived in a factory and dressed with fancy and alluring packaging. It's a modern malaise and has a high cost to the well being of society.

On a parallel track, one less heralded or commented on, is the trajectory of our mental consumption habits. 

There is a huge volume of shrill and sugary distractions being presented to us every day, coming at us from all sides. On the net, TV, radio, magazines, the newspaper... we are bombarded with information and messages - in the form of both news and entertainment - that is the moral equivalent of junk food.

Hard to resist, tasty perhaps for an instant but lacking any substance or value for one's evolution as a sentient being.

It's interesting to look back on your day and what you may have taken in to see how much of it was actually nourishing your soul and how much of it was clogging and clouding your clarity and essence.

Truth is that is imperative that we make an effort to challenge, improve and expand ourselves; intellectually, morally and spiritually. To do this we can only work with what we put in.

Affirmative actions, positive behaviour and healthy interaction with others - any poz interpersonal stuff - is good. So is stuff like meditation, reading books and quiet thinking.

Creative pursuits also rank high. They allow one to get in the zone, touch base with the universal sauce, or source; same diff.

Personally, I get a sweet natural high every day doing my comics and/or writing. It's not always easy but afterwards I feel nourished, a sense of accomplishment. It's my job, I suppose - one with very flexible hours and parameters - plus a decent boss who gives me free reign. 

I'm no saint, though. I squander plenty of time: surfing the net, binge watching my favourite series in the evenings and occasionally leap frogging from one foolish clip to another on You Tube. No one's keeping score. Do what you want. But my advice and the gist of this piece is that it is good to be aware of what is going in to your consciousness. 

Sidestep the avalanche of goo-goo garbage generated by the morally dubious entertainment conglomerates and - like picking fresh herbs from a garden or fruit of a tree - get some wholesome and meaningful content into you and pay attention to your own opinions, insights and intuitions. Consciously develop yourself into someone worth being.

I've been sick.

It's been almost two weeks now. Chest infection. Lots of coughing. Coughing, coughing, coughing.

The first four days and nights were the worst. I could not sleep. I was delirious. On the fourth night I felt like I was losing my mind. I was mildly hallucinating. In the end I rugged up and slept outside on the balcony for I could find peace no where else. I slept a few hours.

Since then I have just been low energy, still lots of coughing. It's annoying and boring. Kind of like being half alive. There's no joy or zest. Everything is a chore. You feel like shit.

It really brings home just how important health and well being are. Without a robust vehicle to inhabit, well, the spirit grows weary.

I have been unable to do my daily exercise, walk and swim and that has been difficult, but I have maintained my daily output of comics. In fact, some days, that has been the only window of any satisfaction in the day. For two days I could not even do anything. That's how low I was. But one day last week, I churned out a record twelve new works! 

I am writing this because it is what I am experiencing and, frankly, I thought if I wait till things are great again it could be a while. 

One thing worth sharing about the experience is what happened on hell night no. 3. Delirious, unable to sleep, I sat up in bed and began spontaneously dictating a feature film. I played all the characters. Out loud. My mind just let go and a stream of lines spewed forth. It was rather entertaining. I considered recording it or trying to write it down but I couldn't find the energy. Instead I just let it flow. I figured if it's all in there anyway, when the time comes, I can access it again. Day 7 I had an even better idea for a feature. This time it came in scene ideas. No dialogue. It's a good one and I will write it down and develop it when I feel better.

The other thing that I experienced was a feeling about how important it is to give. To be generous and open hearted. To share and bring joy to other lives. I realised quite clearly that, bottom line, there is no better life choice. Of course, we all know this in the back of our minds, but it really hit home.

This feeling hasn't left and will inform my future decisions for action. So being sick has not been a total loss. Still, I hate it. I am taking some Chinese medicines from a generous and learned healer friend of mine who I bumped into at the checkout counter at Woolies. He also bought me a huge chunk of ginger. Kindness. Compassion. That'll fix anything.

Hopefully, I shall return to these pages in a few days, fully recovered and brimming with vivacity. Until then, it's back to the nether regions, the twilight zone, the damp cave of existence for a few more days of toughing it out.

As I have mentioned before in these posts, I grew up reading copious amounts of comics in the 70's. My brothers and I sought them out and collected them - reading every imaginable title from the DCs and Marvels to the obscure scary comics, war comics and romance comics. 

Sometimes, if I had read every available comic, I would take to reading the letter pages (not that interesting) or other bits and pieces of text - the small print at the bottom of page one for example - or some kind of short story thing - never that interesting, really. Just to pass the time. But if I was passing the time, one way I really enjoyed was gazing at advertisements for posters, stickers or patches - like the one above. 

The tiny artworks were like portals. Each had a message and a sentiment. Spoke of an ideology. Stood for a cause. Symbolised an attitude. I was a kid, I was forming my identity. Solidifying my beliefs. Anything was possible and although I couldn't click on these icons and open them up with a computer, I could with my mind.

When I stumbled across this page on the net this morning, it brought back all kinds of memories. Just like you would learn every song on a favourite album, I recognised ever patch from this advertisement. I had stared at it and studied it so many hundreds of times - selecting my favourites and choosing my top five, top ten, etc. A few times I even thought of sending in for them - but we lived in Tokyo and it seemed too difficult. I did have a favourite jacket at around the age of thirteen that was adorned with some of the patches above and others - most memorably the peace sign and smiley.

There are quite a few good ones out of the thirty six pictured. And they have stood up well with the test of time. Very much a sixties/seventies vibe - but, hey, those were the decades that formed me.

Peace, love, ecology, equality.... all my bag. I grew up listening (over and over) to Sgt Peppers (from the age of six or seven) as well as Cat Stevens, Joan Baez and The Mammas and the Pappas. I revered the peace symbol. I believed in love - loving everyone. I believed in humanity and goodness and compassion. My vision for the world was aligned with the hippies and the revolutionists of the time.

Sadly, it didn't come about. In fact, in many ways the planet is in much, much worse shape now than it was then. At least there was simplicity then. And integrity. The shinning glow and warmth of the candle lit by activists and creatives of the time was not bright enough to illuminate the majority towards enlightenment. Cut to: today's world. Hmmm...
Peace? Love? Soul? More like... Money. Power. Glory.

Being young, too, and impressionable and with a big imagination - I created a vision of a future full of all the good stuff. I had absolutely no idea of the adult world, really, but I believed that surely, people would want to encourage harmony and justice and strive for unity and compassion.

In some ways, I am extremely disappointed. But I can't complain. I have a life. I am here to witness what is unfolding. It was never going to turn out the way I envisioned in my naive and hopeful state. I was a dreamer. And I still am. As are many. It's what keeps us sane. And in attendance. Dreams and hope. 

Never lose hope. We could just be going through a rough patch, after all. In fact, I do believe this to be true. There will be tipping point and higher consciousness will permeate through humanity. Eventually.

Until then, let's stay true to our better selves, our good intentions and our aspirations for creating a world of love and peace. 

As one chapter ends a new one begins.

After creating 5,000 images over the last two and a half years on my Samsung Galaxy Note 1 - like the images the have adorned the posts of this blog - I have changed tact and have begun to work on my recently acquired phone - the newly released Note 4. I'm working on a series of black & white drawing and comics that I plan to publish next year in a book. 

I really enjoyed the daily, accumulative process of creating the colour works and often wondered how long it would go on for. But with the exciting new purchase of the exciting new portable studio - with it's fancy, fandangled technology and crisp, clear screen image quality - I found myself naturally drawn to creating clean and simple greyscale sketches. I have done a couple of hundred already and plan to present the best (and the worst) in a simple paperback style tome early next year in a small, self-funded print run. 

It feels good to be working on a fresh project and with the knowledge that the pieces will be published and shared via good old fashioned printing on paper methodology. I have always loved books of all sorts, so the prospect of making one of my own is exciting. In 2001, I self published my first paperback - a collection of writings called 'All I've Ever Wanted Is What I Know I Can Never Have.' I did a small run and sold out quickly - a large percentage at the launch in Sydney. For many years also, in the 90's - I self published and distributed zines of my line work and writing under the titles - Free Spirit, Script Head and Hip Shots. One day I plan to release a best of compilation of these, too.

One day.

I like those words. Not today. Not tomorrow. But not just any random future day either. One day. It is so full of hope and fantasy. It may of may not come. But if it does, it will be beautiful. It's good to have one days.

I have always loved collecting things. 

When I was eight and we lived near the bush, it was special rocks and twigs. And tadpoles. And marbles.

At ten and eleven, when we lived in Tokyo, my brothers and I would go to a tiny but amazing model shop near Roppongi. The owner was an amazing model maker and always had awe inspiring scenes set up in his window. Inside was stacked to the roof with a comprehensive selection of plastic model kits. We used to buy and make aeroplanes (Spitfire was a fave, and the Stuka with its bent wings), tanks, and less often, a battleship or a destroyer. I was never that keen on the toxic smelling and hard-to-get-off-fingers adhesive that came in a tiny silver tube but I would diligently assemble a small army collection. What I loved most was painting them and putting on the decals - which needed pre-soaking a shallow dish of water and very delicate and precise handling.

Around thirteen I discovered the splendid and rewarding joy of reading books. New paperbacks (in English) were prohibitively expensive but I soon discovered a shelf or two of English language paperbacks in some local Tokyo bookshops. Again, the shops were narrow and tiny and crammed with merchandise. My area of interest and focus were up the front on the right of the Hiroo shop, down the road from our house. Just two or three shelves worth, each less than a metre wide. I would visit often and study every new book, considering it's value and possible reward. I really disliked buying a book if I wasn't going to read it, so I selected carefully, often reading the first twenty or so pages while standing there, sometimes for an hour or more before choosing. Luckily, in Japan, tachiyomi (literally standing/reading) is common and not discouraged by shop owners whatsoever. I would get out my fifty or a hundred yen and pay for my new treasure. The library at school was OK when I was younger with things like the Hardy Boys series (much loved!) but had nothing that would fast track the development and maturing of a hungry and curious teen. A few authors that spring to mind are Alistair MacLean, Roald Dahl and John Fowles. I would also read some slightly raunchy and macabre B grade novels - about witches, fighters and promiscuous experimenters. I was well known for carrying a paperback everywhere in the side pocket of our school blazer. Two other kids, Zac Callahan and Chris Styles, also started doing this and we would often check out what each other was reading and talk stories. Most of the other kids in the class associated reading with school work and shunned it. For us it was a doorway to new and exciting worlds. I'll always remember the feeling of finding a really good new book in the shelves. And the joy of reading one - wanting it to never finish. The Magus by John Fowles was an especially thick one and satisfyingly lasted for quite a while. I considered it a masterwork of the imagination. He also wrote a book called The Collector.

Part of the satisfaction of collecting is the thrill of knowing your subject, area of interest well and becoming familiar with all the popular and semi-popular items within it's realm. Then what happens is every time you go out seeking additions it becomes increasingly harder to find something new and worthwhile. You either have everything good or at least know about it and don't need to acquire it for reasons of taste or space. When you collect you are honing your knowledge and developing a personal taste and quiet opinions about the things within the microcosm of your passion. It's a very healthy and nourishing thing to do. I learnt a lot about art and developed my taste through collecting comics and album covers. I never bought new ones of either of these groups, preferring the chance and thrill of second hand hunting expeditions.

Other things I have collected over the years: movie posters, magazines (especially early Esquires and National Lampoons), film scripts (ordered by post from LA), poker card protectors, hippy necklaces, stickers, caps, skulls and bottle tops.

I was thinking the other day, while walking on the beach about just how many projects there are that I have conceived or started but not finished. There are so many! Ideas come to me fast and thick and are never ending. The ones that come to full fruition are only the tip of the iceberg. One in a hundred or less.

There are multiple reasons for this. Timing, circumstance, attitude... Even if I was a hyper achiever, I'd still probably only be able to execute 5% of what I cook up. Sometimes I justify not doing more by telling myself that it's just the kind of person I am, my destiny; to enjoy thinking things up - and then letting them go. I do very much find satisfaction in the conceptual part of a new project. It's all so potentially perfect, so grand, so unrestricted. Often, I will have an idea for a book/movie/creative project that I will see appear in the public realm five, ten years later. I'm sure this is not uncommon.

On the other end of the spectrum, many times I have attempted to make things happen, to manifest ideas - and reality has just not cooperated. For example, in the late nineties, after studying screenwriting at UCLA, I spent two years full time writing screenplays. I completed a total of six feature films - one for young teens, a chick flick, a feel-good indie, a fantasy film, a comedy and a coming-of-age action/drama. After they were done I spent a year trying to get interest/sell/get funding for them. I concentrated mainly on the last one - which I think is the best and has the most commercial potential. I am not, however, a great sales person by any stretch, and nothing came from any of it. They sit in a box in storage. It was disheartening, I cannot deny, and yet, I did still get great pleasure in the act of writing them. Of course, I have continued with my writing and had subsequent success with radio plays/ comedic monologues and short films. But screenplay number seven is yet to be.

I have also written full outlines for a three character one-man-show and a grand scale musical over the last few years, but they, too, remain concepts - unreleased, not invested in, scribbles in a notebook. 

Sometimes, I do the work to manifest something and it is blocked at the last stage of realisation or snatched from my hands. A documentary about Bay FM radio station, Bliss Jockeys, that I wrote and directed was snatched from my hands by a megalomaniacal/paranoid producer at the very final stages because of ownership disputes. After a deal with SBS fell through, he ran off with the tapes and chopped them into segments, put them up on his YouTube channel as his own. That was a full years work. 

In 2002, after self publishing my first book, 'All I've Ever Wanted Is What I Know I Can Never Have', and getting satisfaction and encouraging feedback from it, I embarked upon a follow up, 'Karma Rama'. I spent the next 18 months working on it. Once completed, I fully designed the front and back covers, and got it print-ready in Quark. While I was busy trying to scrape together some money for a first run, my computer died. Salvaging it from the hard drive would have cost more than I had at the time. The book never happened.

All sounds a bit sad, in a way. But it isn't necessarily. For me the best part of a project is in the thinking up and the creation. What happens with things after that is a bit boring. Of course, it is wasted effort and disappointing when they get so close to fruition, but I am so quickly onto the next thing that I soon forget.

As an evolving creative entity, my lessons and greatest joys are in the actual doing of things, the initial spark, the first rendering, the birth of ideas. From nothing to something. What kind of somethings they become and whether or not they solidify a place of any distinction in the world is not where I put my attention.

My journals are full of things that could have been. Books, movies, exhibitions, shows. It's not too late. Some may still find there way back into the process. Who knows. But most of them are just part of a wild and zesty creative machine gun process. Benign bullets billowing in the air. With a charged-up and staccato-laughing genius/madman alone on the beach with his never-ending supply of artistic ammo, filling the horizon with new thoughts and concepts that take shape and form for a time, then, like the clouds, drift off into the ether, the endless blue.

Hey kid,

You're a very sensitive fellow. But you are also very thoughtful, observant and wise. Your instincts are good - continue to follow them and believe in your own, unique, world view. 

You have to put up with a lot of crap from figures of authority. They are often wrong, as you suspected, and are really just stupid bullies. You fight them and lose because they hold all the power. But I admire your sense of righteousness and low tolerance for injustice. Don't let those fuckers break you! (They won't.)

Although you have a naturally positive and adventurous, hopeful outlook, you are often deeply saddened by your circumstances. You feel misunderstood and misaligned. You don't really fit in with conventional ways. This will not change. 

Your curiosity, love of reading, love of exploration and FUN are a centre point to your being. Your instinct is to do what makes you happy. This is a good thing. Stick with it. 

You love people - good people, open minded people, playful people, big hearted people. You are a champion for the under dog. Heck, you are the under dog!

Much of what you learn is though interacting with others - outside of the school system. You instinctively seek and find slightly older mentors who offer you new insight, support and reassurance. This is a good thing and will continue into your thirties. 

You love of romance and woman will continue to grow. Aren't they amazing creatures. As best as you can, treat them with respect and kindness. They thrive on attention and emotional connection. A few will try and get the better of you, but don't worry, they will soon fall away. 

You will be lucky enough to have some wonderful, exciting relationships with some truly beautiful women as you get older. Don't worry too much if it doesn't always turn out right for now. There's plenty to look forward to.

I remember you sitting on the steps, alone, outside the dance or the club, on occasion and feeling alone, sad. Wishing you could find someone to have a heart connection with. Don't worry, kid. They will come. 

You will marry, too. It won't last but you didn't want it to. She wasn't the right one and you knew this before you proposed. But, ironically, getting married was the only way out. She was a tough one to shake. She had emotional power over you. It wasn't until you become husband and wife and she cheated on you that you could sever the ties and walk away with clear conscience and freshly empowered. 

Your thirties are when you will really have some hugely rewarding love affairs and relationships. Some that last years, others months and a few for only weeks. But, kid, believe me, you will not be disappointed. 

Later in life, in your fifties, you'll remain un-remarried. After a promising relationship in your late forties that turns sour, you decide that being single is actually your preference. You love your freedom and independence. 

From early on, you choose to be a free spirit. You do not like to be pinned down, committed, or stuck. You like to sleep when you want, wake when you want and do as you choose with your time. This makes holding a job quite difficult. And after trying a few in your late twenties you decide it's not for you. 

After all, you are an artist. An artist and a writer. Did I mention that? Yes, it's true. Your love of books and art and movies never wanes and you begin to express your own truth. You go to art school. You study film making. You write and publish your own poetry and stories and comics. You even publish a book when you are forty. It's called 'All I've Ever Wanted Is What I Know I Can Never Have.' Nice title!

You study screenwriting at UCLA and end up writing six feature films. None of them get made, so you kind of give up and go back to painting. But you continue to make short films and write journals and poems and comics, of course. You've always loved comics!

You do stand up for a while. Solo and as a duo. You tour briefly. It's a tough road. Not for you. You also have your own comedy radio show. That is good. You always wanted that! You create some great characters and really enjoy writing and performing. You even win an award for you comedy writing! And cash!

You move to Byron Bay for seven years. Then get invited to perform your original comedic monologue in New York! Cool, huh?! They pay for you to go over, so you pack up and go. NYC isn't your style so you move to LA. It's good there, but, once again, you are an outsider and despite some elements that you really enjoy, you decide to return to Australia. 

You love your country more than ever and eventually end up back up north. This time in Mullumbimby. There are cows and chickens in the backyard. The sky is big. The sea is close by. You visit every day - you've always loved, indeed, needed the ocean. The air is clean and fresh. Country living, the simple life suits you.

You don't have much. An old car, an old computer, a small room you rent and a storage shed full of painting from the 25 plus art exhibitions you've held over the last 30 years.

When I say you don't have much, I mean, of course, material things. You have plenty. Health, freedom, imagination. Your future is open to possibility... 

It's hard being an artist. Especially one that isn't motivated to self promote. Still, every day you create new works - two, three, four, five.... You love seeing what comes out. It reminds you of the comic covers you so used to enjoy as a kid. You've got plans to publish a book of your own recent comics - you've done over 200 of them over the last year. That will be good, huh? 

Anyway, gotta go now, kid. Just thought I'd say hello and tell you some things. Of course you won't get this back then. 

But you've got it now. Take it easy.

I was lying on my mattress the other night watching a open-hand-size huntsman repeatedly navigate the upper levels of the four walls of my room. He's been around for a week or so now and we've decided on a mutually beneficial 'no provoke', silent, arachnoid/gentlemen's agreement. Still when he saunted up to the roof and crossed over into a space hovering directly above my head, I decided it would be wise to move temporarily to a different spot.

Lying there, I suddenly remembered that I used to read and collect National Lampoon humour magazines in the mid seventies. I used to really enjoy reading them. I don't know what happened to my collection - lost in transit, I suppose. I've lived in and moved out of thirty or forty abodes since then. I now live in a rented room with my computer, an open suitcase and a mattress. Streamlined, you could call it.

Since my teens, I have always been a high input person. Books, comics, magazines, movies, TV series, the net... I like to absorb - concepts, words, visuals, stories. I always try to find stuff that is quality. Stimulating. As a teen it was paperbacks found in the second hand store in Hiroo, Tokyo, by writers like John Fowles, Alister Mclean and James Clavell. Comic titles like 'Challengers of the Unkown', 'Sgt Rock' and 'Swamp Thing'. Then there were mags - National Lampoon, Reader's Digest, Time, Esquire, Details. Mixed in with all this was Japanese game shows, comedies and kickboxing shows.

Around 18, I discovered with great delight the art film, late night double feature cinemas and saw groundbreakers - and lifechangers - like El Topo, Eraserhead, Performance, Clockwork Orange and Nashville.

I also have always loved, sitting and watching people. From Shibuya station in the early days, to nights on the streets in Kings Cross in my twenties (observer, not hooker) to walking through neighbourhoods in the US, South America and South East Asia in my travels. To this day, I spend hours at a time in libraries, wherever I am, several times a week: absorbing. I also love their serenity and solemness.

Point is, it's little wonder my visual art output is voluminous. (3,000 plus artworks in the last 22 months).  A lot goes in. A lot comes out. It needs to. I really enjoy making pictures. From nothing to something. A simple magic. Soul soothing.

Been having some fun with Google. Just discovered that you can right click an image and one of the menu box options is 'Search Google for this Image'. Do it and up pops about 30 similar looking images. Really enjoying seeing what similar colour schemes, shapes Google's mind finds.

I've noticed that many of my images correlate with comic covers, breakfast cereal and lolly packaging, as well as CD, book and magazine covers. This is not a surprise really as these are the things that I used to spend time visually absorbing when I was developing - especially comics and books.

My brothers and I had a collection of comics in the thousands and yet when we went to the second hand comic shop in Roppongi, I was able to sort through the incoming availables and know if we had it or not, by going through my visual filing system. It was such a beautiful and fulfilling experience to collect (and read!) comics. A true visual education. Serene, soothing, engaging. Each one held a new series of images and words that would transport you. Given the choice I would much rather read a pile of comics than watch anything that TV had to offer. So much more variety, craftsmanship, invention in a comic. Magic little things.

Each day I create between three and six new artworks. It's what I do, I put images together like notes in a musical score and try to make something harmonious or discordant as the case may be. Usually it's a blend of the two.

It's a simple pleasure - I make these pictures on my Samsung Note using the basic SMemo program. The limitations, I have found, give me great freedom. I started playing with the phablet (phone/tablet - it's got a little stylus) as soon as I could get my hands on one - which is about 18 months ago. It's a mobile studio - fits in my pocket! 

In the beginning my images were rather messy, clunky, experimental. Over time they have become a little more easy, interesting, evocative. I found a form of artistic expression (a modern one), that I have stuck with, practiced at, until good results started appearing with regularity.

I don't really know where these pictures will lead. I have done over two and a half thousand so far. A recent off shoot is that I have been using them in my single page comics - Mind's I. This has proved enjoyable and productive, also. I have done over one hundred of these in the last five months. It's a challenging/satisfying merging of image, concept and words. 

I also enjoy choosing an image every few days for this blog. Somehow it will relate to what I am saying. Sometimes, I have a preconcept, other times I use the picture as a catalyst for my informal rambling. 

Blackswan, laughing woman, helicopter. See! There's a seamless symmetry!

Did this artwork yesterday arvo at a corner cafe on Redfern Street. A slight departure from my 'usual' style (broad range!). 

It reminds me of wrestling with my brothers when we were younger. We'd all just get in there and twist and tumble around with youthful zest and exuberance; collapsing in a writhing pile on the ground, panting and laughing.

We shared a lot of love and had many great adventures together growing up in Tokyo. Sneaking into movies, playing pachinko (and winning), hanging out at game centres in Shibuya, Yurakucho, Azabu Juban and lying around reading the latest comics we scored for 10 or 20 yen each from the Roppongi second hand bookshop.

Both my bros went on to become varsity wrestlers in highschool. I didn't do sport back then, preferring to read, make art, skip class, ride my Yamaha 50cc or hang at Comos cafe with the girls from Sacred Heart. Different form of wrestling!

I've always had a very busy mind. Sometimes too busy. I try to quieten it with activities, distractions, exercise and sleep with varying degrees of success. Of course, making art is a great queller.