Friday, April 15, 2016

Toronto General Hospital and SEX, Apple iPhone6+ held until further notice - This site uses cookies. This blog was hacked.

Legalize It - Young Bob Marley --- almost sold

Okay, this is for my pal, TL. Who tells me to just bear it and leave. She says that one of her doctors always finds a reason to touch her breasts no matter what... because he is a man, she says. She says that sometimes. It stops me from frowning but doesn't really solve the boundary problem that exists when it comes to our bodies.

I was talking to a pal of mine of the phone today. He reminded me that there is a part of society that believes that women should just be locked up somewhere and abused physically and sexually. He's not a man who would ever do that, so I wonder how a father of two incredible daughters keeps it together in the world.

I had a doctor pretend that he was assessing my recovery from surgery on my trachea by grabbing my breasts and telling me to cough. This after he asked me to change into a cloth gown that ripped under the pressure of his hatred. It was strange and unusual and he was a man so I barely frowned. I'm not sure that I told that story to TL.  I told the psych ward staff the other day which means, if I didn't tell the world, they'd keep sexually assaulting me and drugging me until I admitted to being mentally disabled. But really, I'm just pissed and physically ill too much of the time.

I had to call security so that they would stop injecting me with loxapine and ativan. So that they'd finally see that giving a rape victim the diagnosis of paranoid schizophrenia while degrading her and assaulting her may not be the measure of a great society. But hey, we're Canadians. So someone was just having a bad day, right. Because I didn't sleep with anyone's husband or kill anyone's snake. I just pulled an all-nighter and spent it at Tim Horton's. So why this outcome from Forest HIll, Toronto to Toronto General Hospital downtown?

Psychiatrists are a lot like people who cannot be trusted to always make you feel better. Sometimes, they make you feel worse and you sit in the worst sorrow you've ever experience in the hopes of healing some past hurt that has lingered for years. Some who have been treated know this. Some who have been treated well, do not. 

I worry when health care professionals intentionally make me feel worse, when they threaten my safety, when they break laws and are not held accountable. LIke, um, where's my iPhone6+ that I got the sweet deal on, that made working at 5 jobs really easy. And why do I know owe for the remainder of that phone and the Android phone I had to replace it with. Why is Bell Canada benefitting from my sexual assaults? Why am I losing out on my airmiles rewards and my shopper's points? Where's the swanky business card holder that was shipped from China for free even though it cost less than $5? And why is there money missing from my bank account?

Is the notion that things added up once, a miracle? Was I just lucky enough to have a university degree, a valid driver's license and a passport on me when I was arrested for wanting to stay up and just hang out in my very safe neighbourhood one night - out of wedlock with no kids waiting for me at home because I have none? 

Are there no more synchronous events in my favour or is my insistence that I am treated fairly in the world finally showing me that justice is a myth? 

Thanks Isle for force injecting me as a way of "helping" me because you know me well enough to make me so incredibly sick that I am still puking those tokens out of my body now. I hope that helps your kids get their scholarships. Is that the trade off? I'm not sure what the war is... yet... I hope someone can see it by now, because I just see a whole bunch of nurses and social workers hiding my belongings from the Executives who understand the crime that is being committed against humanity in democratic Canada. 

Am I really expected to charm brutal attackers? Because folks, as charming as I may appear on tv, I'm so kind that I will let you drug me and rape me over and over and over again from behind my glass sliding door at Toronto General Hospital. So perhaps part of me will never leave that place and I hope I haunt it forever throwing the needles out of the hands when they try to inject other aspiring women who end up there.

I hung a sign on my glass door that said, "No one deserves to get raped ever." But they still do it because no one stops them. So watch your kids. And think twice before you send them there. They won't come back the same. You will lose them.

They will assault whoever protests. After I was assaulted, Dr. Buckingham drank a lovely bottle of aloe water. The kind that isn't healing. The commercial brand. Dr. Buckingham also refused to allow me to wear a clean hospital gown. All the nurses respected his choice to have me walk around soiled -- in the hospital where they are not equipped - rape kit. 

They take your things as part of some weird game, apparently. They try to take your dignity and offer you time playing a piano that's out of tune and abuse you at every turn. It's fun for them, I guess. It cost me a lot of money and wasted a lot of people's time. But they get paid generously for it and smile at the board meeting as if it's just part of the job.

The funniest thing was the "fake" Board of Directors they created so that the bipolar patients would have more to do while they pretended to buy into the chaos.

I emailed Sharon at Patient Care to get the President and Chief Executive Officer University Health Network contact information and she simply would not release it. This after telling me that the person I found online had left his post. Lovely man from Wales. Where'd he go? C'est la vie.

She told me what I already knew. The information would get diverted to her office. Now kids to whom I provided my business cards, why do we go to the very top when the people in the middle steal from us???

Email Sharon at Patient Care at Toronto General Hospital and tell her with a picture. She will never understand it. Confusion blocks racism for about three seconds. That's all.

She never, ever released the information. But I managed to get it. It was fun and funny and there are a million ways to do it. So choose your own adventure.

If I live to the end of the month, I'll be surprised.

Simone in Alex's Favourite Puffy Shirt
Photo by Sam | Canada Post daze

This blog is my form of self-defense from some very horrible people who have insisted I don't put their names in my blog.

I was cut off from internet access while at Toronto General Hospital. "Of course," my strategically forward thinking pals might say. With the help of my fabulous lawyer, I was able to have that overturned while in PICU. So why didn't I update my blog. Because I was on drugs and I don't post, create art, write, text or tweet while under the influence of medication which means no blogging high unless someone is actually trying to kill me or I'm feeling the side effects of loxapine and ativan injections which would be paranoid schizophrenia.  

This is one I'm prepared to die for before after or during any sexual assault that happens in any government institution that is supposed to protect it's citizens, not harm them and damage them further. I am prepared to die for my right to write. I simply am. So thank you for the opportunity to present nothing at all to anyone I'll ever see again. I did not make medical history or change the world. I just lost a lot of stuff and managed not to have my identity stolen as far as I can tell. But who knows, right?

I haven't seen the convict who had a penile procedure in a while. He stayed in the room beside me. The look in his eyes was frighteningly scary but easy to deflect. Nobody cared about my well-being so I didn't care if I died by his hand or one of the nurses, in fact , either was possible.

Dr. Skorsewska and Dr. Wang had no problem putting women in the same ward with a man who refused to tell me what he was in jail for. People of the Lie, I suppose.

I managed to take the subway home with Depends, my maxipads missing along with the clothes I wore to the hospital which I'm sure are being destroyed as they would indicate evidence or sexual activity preceding my hospitalization and semen matching someone I'm pissing off immensely. Or, the nurses just steal. Who knows? Apparently, I'm mentally disabled, so...

Could Dorothy have gotten home without her shoes? Is this Oz?

Before they raped me, I called the fire department one time. I will never forget the face of the nurse who cut her hair shortly after she read this blog. She was a horrible person who has a great cushy job where she can manage the rapes and assaults of patients with no rights for her amusement. 

All the while hoping to affect credit rating, insisted on delaying my rent, stealing my money and blocking my access to my accounts because Dr. Skorsewka didn't believe that I knew how to keep a budget. Odd thing for one female professional to think of another female professional, but it happens, right TL... Sorry TL, this is why I haven't paid you back everything yet. There is far too much intervention in my day to day choices. 

To quote on of my former best pals, FD, "The more they do, the less they do."

I will most likely be pinned down and drugged again. Happily, I wasn't. I was just denied every other right until I retained a lawyer. 

I already told "them" that google will decide how to edit my blog not the Toronto General Hospital staff who don't hesitate to assault patients in the PICU ward.

I don't have the time to research this, but is this the option that eliminates tasers? Do they inject people now instead of shooting them, hitting them, zapping them electrically. I'd like to know, because it might be me. Because it is me!!!

Harmonica Stevie - acrylic on canvas
Remember Painted Blue in Yorkville when the Tango Dancers loved our Blues?

Here's what happened to me:

I was held down in my bed despite not having resisted, arrest by three male security guards. The nurse asked me not to sit in a chair to receive the injection. She asked me to lie down in bed. I calmly walked there. The security guards put gloves on, held me every so gently while the nurse held two needles in her hands.

A male security guard said, where should they inject her? The security guard suggested, "Her arm?" The brown female nurse decided to pull my pants down and inject me beside my pubic hair. Yes. There. The place no flippin' security guard could ever see. This is not a race issue this is why I never talk about this. This is why I never talk about marijuana and race. This is why I include my hands in pics of books on instagram. Books I just found randomly.

Some people are stuck in boys against girls, some in skinny vs fat, some race against race, some religion? Why do we argue about religion and why am I still here?

To know more about me... 
I'll tell you the things that drive me flippin' nuts!
This is Canada, eh!
Welcome to Canada!

Yesterday, the nurse misled me again about giving me access to my bank account to buy snacks. I waited for hours in my cell for the nurse to get my bank card out of security.

The nurse who allowed me the most privileges had gone home and the new nurse had no information in her file. No information about my bank cards being available to me.

I already cancelled my passport and I have lost one debit card already to theft in the hospital. It's not a fun place to be metaphorically or otherwise. And the TBA keeps asking me where I"d like to go on vacation. Is this really happening? A friend an a family member came last night and assured me that it is.

I have a hearing in front of the board of Toronto General Hospital on Monday at 11am. I would like to go home immediately with all the items I had upon admission. They have stopped giving me meds to treat schizophrenia so I am stable again. Lord, the things people assume when you're dressed in your scrubby clothes. 

My lawyer is optimistic so I am as well... sometimes

I Hipe for Strength - Sold - Ontario Human Rights Commission Execute Office

Afro Angel - Available

April 15, 2016 is the anniversary of my late Mother's Birthday. She's dead. She was born today. It's trippy in a Star Trek kind of way. I thought, maybe a chocolate bar, cookies, a poorly written novel. Something besides the hospital, right??

They are always out of yogurt, digestive cookies. They only have granny smith apples as fruit and I'm not the biggest fan of either, but they are the healthiest snack option.

TGH would like me to quit smoking but considering my stress level is at an 11, this is not the place to quit. Plus, I don't intend to ever give up smoking. They'd also like me to blog about whatever I like as long as I don't use anyone's name. They'd like to inject me when I am rude or angry while other patients merely get scolded. It is a very strange place to be.

I look forward to finishing my graphic novels this year. Hopefully on Monday or earlier, I can return to my work. My three jobs, freelance career and artistic projects. I have no desire to be hospitalized whatsoever. This is a very expensive abuse of the system.

Before they pulled my pants down and revealed my pubic hair to security guards in Toronto General Hospital, 200 University Ave, Toronto. I yelled at a nurse. I asked why I was there. A nurse asked me to follow her to a door she then closed in my face. She told me that she would tell me why I was there if I followed her. I'm not that big an idiot. Not even Alice in Wonderland would have cared to know more.

I called the Fire Department who came.

When the fire people actually arrived, the psychologically abusive nurse said, "I thought it was better to call the fire department than the police or hospital security." 

Then security gently pressed down on me although I was not resisted the drug by injection. I resisted when they decided as a group not to inject it into my arm, but to inject my pubic area. So now, 4 security guards who may or may not be attracted to me, none of my culture, one woman and the rest men, all got to see my grey and black pubic hair. Why wasn't it brown? They wondered.

A few seconds ago, I verified nurse white supremacy, that they could have given me the injection in my arm.

This is why no matter how much I learn about health, well-being and medicine, I will never become a health care professional of any kind. I would never join the police force and I would never, ever be a lawyer.

Snoop for Bro Who Cut Me Off - Bastarodo!!

Sexually Inappropriate Forced Medication at Toronto General Hospital

Thursday, April 14, 2016

The End of Something Old and Hopefully the Beginning of Something I Can't See

North Toronto Memorial Community Centre

I can't or won't post pictures on this blog, because I'm in a hospital dying of complications due to the onset of Lupus in 2004. My high blood pressure and nicotine addiction seems to have Dr. L. Wang in the psychiatry department baffled. She has extended my involuntary admission form and will forever because I don't want to cuddle with her and share stories about the pain I felt when sexual assaulted by police and doctors throughout the course of my life.

Can someone not teach this woman the concept of personal space and boundaries??

I'm far too tired to sue, so my hope is that she just hands me a bowl full of the drug I'm allergic to and a glass of ice water and I just laugh at the fun things I can't do from this bed, but can still do with my zero tolerance for discrimination against me.

This time I'm not going to try to survive it. But no one will bring me smokes. So I'm not taking visitors. I'm just going to eat the hospital spam and hope for the best. But I honestly just wish I could die this time.

I met a guy I really like and I can't even find him. I misplaced my phone and he's not listed in the phone book in space. So he obviously flew back to Africa and I'm here in track pants and two hospital gowns.

It's a strange story that kind of answers the question, "Why a painter, Simone? When you could build a house with the girls if you so desired? Or fly a plane? Or become a psychotherapist?"
"Why? Because I don't want to be a slave."

Show me a job and I show you how drained I'll be at the end of the day.
Then I show you the freedom I once had to be myself in the arts.

I was not born to heal the wounds of the world which is why you will have my previous blog to refer to for life when you feel like you need to dump, or be held, or be cared for by someone who actually believes the world can be saved.

I don't think it can. And I don't care to try. But it's an interesting treatise, n'est-ce que pas?

This time, it is simply too great a load to bear.

Tomorrow is the anniversary of my mother's death. So instead of visiting her grave, I have images of forensic science teams exhuming her body. I'll be here in the psych ward avoiding the patients who have grown so attached to me I can't even sit alone for five minutes without hearing all their worries.

So now, mysteriously, I'm being held at Toronto General Hospital so that my High Blood Pressure and Nicotine Addiction can be treated. Makes me hate the world all over again.

So I have no art to show you. I refuse to create it here. My art is still for sale but it can't be shipped because instead of building my brand, I will be taking zyprexa until I learn to say Massa properly to the nurses.

I quit representing Lawrence Wraith. Who could while sick? This is it folks.
I am ready to die immediately but they won't give me lethal injection for wearing a pullover and no coat in Forest Hill.

When people say "life is too short," they probably don't know that my life has been extended way too many times for me to even care about my pals.


Thanks for looking out. Thanks for trying. Thanks for laughing with me and crying on my shoulder, eating all my food and needing me to provide my services for free.

I'm just way too bloody tired to care.

Many moons ago, I had to walk up hill both ways to book an appointment with a dermatologist that I didn't want to see anyway. My rheumatologist booked the appointment on my behalf. I had few funds and no cash. I greeted the receptionist and told her why I was there.

She wouldn't book the appointment.

I told her that I had no phone and that the chances of her picking up the phone when I called from a pay phone were slim to none. She didn't care.

The receptionist wouldn't book the appointment because she said that I had to call. But I was there in the office. Her computer worked. It took two specialists and some yelling for her to schedule an appointment for me.

I exploded like the largest stick of dynamite ever and nothing good happened after that.

I should have sued but it takes so long. I've done it and won and it really does take so flipping long and it so exhausting and... so... well..

There are people who are beyond evil.

Were I a white man in a suit, she would have booked me an appointment without hesitation.

So, I die here, yelling whenever I want. At least that's my version of being true to myself and honest. "The man," is nuts.

Okay, so here's the plan. I'm breaking out tonight. Worse case scenario, they arrest me again, rape me some more and put me back here to be psychologically abused again.

Best case scenario, I get to smoke a few cigarettes and get to drink some espressos in my mansion.

Which means, I probably die here.

You thought the last blog was sad, right?

This is not an effort to crowd source, but if you think patients with PTSD and Depression should be able to fill their prescriptions for Cannabis in Hospitals in the GTA, call whoever you need to.

Canabanoid Clinic:

I can be reached at the Psych Ward 416-340-5590 under Dr. Skorzewska's malpractice.
I cut off my phone and I'm too tired to sue the world.

Sexual harassment is on the table though, because something strange happens when you drugs a few women and have one male with a criminal record in a secluded part of the hospital.

Happy Wintry Spring.


Sunday, March 6, 2016

For the many, many friends and associates who feel the struggle continue...

From the Collection of Colin Frank

Gregory Porter and Laura Mvula - Buy yourself some tunes, Love!

Did you lose a couple friends along the way?
Are You Kidding Me?
11x14 in ~ Painting, Ink ~ Paper

Might be time then. Might be time now.

acrylic on canvas

I honestly believe something greater is at stake than to just live here, and to work here and to love. 
From the Collection of the Honourable Yola Grant

Did you fight for your position? Win, and then still lose?

I Hope For Strength - From the Collection of the Honourable Yola Grant
Sometimes it happens.

acrylic on canvas
8x10 in

The path we choose has no guarantee of blissful perfection at it’s end.

A Day at the "Beach" (es) 2015

I tried everything.

acrylic on canvas

You tried too? 

acrylic on canvas

Let’s hang out then. 
Let’s have brunch. 
Discuss the subtle, strange acceptance of the lie you challenged... again.

acrylic on canvas
You have pride in yourself.

The Walk from the collection of Paul Rapati
Misery to Joy
mixed media

You believe that you are worthy of amazing things 
because you worked hard, 
and you’re good, 
and you were born deserving them…

I am Love - Fiction - Simone Frank $4.95

You’re right! 
You deserve the best!

ink on paper

You haven't received the best yet? 
Maybe you should change.

ink on paper

Not likely. 

A Black One from the collection of Diavin Miller
Change can be good. 

Regent Park and Tearing Down - 2015

Sand Under My Feet - 2015
I tried that too.

ink on mulberry

I tried to be normal from 2004 to 2006.
I lost the imagined love of my life, my passion and my drive.
Normal people, don’t hurt this much, I decided.
So I tried to join the masses.
How hilarious was that?
Calmed some others and bored myself.

Not one of mine, but gorgeous, isn't it? - still searching for the photographer...

my version of normal...

I moved into a condo in Mississauga. I worked at a shoe store in the mall
with a lovely bunch of ladies who were married or dating
and had no desire whatsoever to exhibit at the Guggenheim.
I shopped at the Gap. I drank instant coffee.
I watched daytime talk shows and night time dramas.
I rode the stationary bike in the condo gym
instead of the fold up bike Igor the angry bicycle salesman probably stole. 

mixed media 
8x10in (framed size)
I went to Church with my Mom. 
I fell asleep in the pew. I snored there. 
Nothing against Church. I just found it so relaxingly calm. 
She told me I was embarrassing her. I apologized. 
We laughed a bit. 
We laughed about a lot of things. 

24x36 in
From the collection of Father Saul

Lilium Casa Blanca is missing in action. 
(I have to hunt it down. A store closed as a result of Bloor Street West reconstruction).
acrylic on canvas

I knew who I was before I got there. 

I'm keeping this one!

I know who I am now.

Ya... I'm still keeping this one!

Being "normal" required more effort than I imagined. 
It didn’t work for me. Not judgement here. Maybe that is you. 
Maybe it was you. 
Until. Until. Until...
you realized you didn't "belong" anywhere. 
And neither did anyone else. 

Maybe, you turned to "Justice" like I did. There must be "Justice"!!! Things must be made right!
ink on paper

You sued. You sued your employer, your doctor, the institution that unnecessarily made your life more complicated than it needed to be. You won! 
You ditched the friend(s) who rarely understood you because you realized 
that while you spent time in places – with people – that didn't satisfy you, 
you were missing it. 

Missing it – the time of your life.
A crazy kind of sorrow can erupt as you lay there,
thinking a million mournful things that made you stagnant.

Buy yourself some tunes, Friend. Snow Patrol in this one.



Get up now, Honey! 
You did your best and failed and won.
Spiral Strength from the collection of Nancy McGovern

It happens. It happens to everyone.

Punching Rain
acrylic on canvas
18x24 in
If you lose your faith in most things
on the way to things much greater, something will happen.
Some balancing flash of something you couldn’t possible imagine
is happening in spite of your loss.

Lady of Song
acrylic on canvas
16x20 in

Someone has been watching is in the purview.
An opportunity is about to present itself.
And trust me,
even if you are lying on your back
on top of unwashed laundry on the floor
and you no longer are able to pay your phone bill.
Something is coming.
Some remarkable thing.
It always does.
Information from the strangest places.
A zillion people want you to have more.

You won and lost again?
Me too!
It happens daily now.

One candle in the darkness can light the place up.
One single flicker of your little, fabulous flame
gives some other candle the audacity to light itself.

Hate is a mere drop in the bucket in an ocean filled with a gazillion possibilities.
Hippy dippy as it sounds, Love and is stronger than any kind of negativity there is.

mixed media
Overcoming Hardship
mixed media

What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger
or crazy, or cruel as a form of revenge.
What doesn’t kill you
leads to enlightenment
if you let it. 
Exhausting, demanding enlightenment. 
And some other stuff.

Many things can evolve out of heartbreak.
Many things can evolve out of losing your job,
or losing a loved one due to crime, due to corruption. 

Who will you become after being tested?

The greatest champions history recorded were underdogs who had everything to lose.
They made us see that they had nothing without the very thing they fought for.
Without the thing they dedicated their lives to fighting for.

11x14 in ~ Mixed Media

The world needs you. It does.
The world needs you.
I don’t have to tell you why.
You know why already. You know!
You always knew.

Keep your integrity.
It’s insanely valuable.
It’s your greatest sword in the duel.
It’s the best thing about you.
It’s the reason you are strong, have vision,
and are now developing the best life anyone could ever have.

ink on mulberry paper
7ishx4ish in

I applaud you for your courage. 
For your dedication to reminding those around you
that you are worthy of all the beauty and glory and the wonderful, wonderfully good.
It’s your time now! You did it. It’s your time now, Friend! You made it!

ink on mulberry paper
7ishx4ish in
Sober Up
ink on mulberry paper
7ishx4ish in
Think Up
ink on mulberry paper
7ishx4ish in

Become the dream you fought for!
Keep going now!
Become the dream you’ll live for!
The roaring, soaring beauty you were destined to enjoy is here right now.
It’s not a door you open,
a film you see
or a song you listen to.

A Study of Dream
11x14 in ~ Mixed Media

There are things around you
that can revive you so easily.
Kites at the Beach(es) 2015

The Sky on the Water 2015

A walk by the lake. 
Yes in the winter!
Dress appropriately.
A YouTube something you watch in the library.
That album you already own and love and haven't played in a while.

You’ve been out of work for a while now?
Waiting for the rest of the rocks to fall?
While you wait,
listen to the album
that saved your life the last time.
Find the new album
that sings your new theme song
and perform it at Karaoke night at the Gladstone.

This is why we make art.
This is why some of us,
brilliant as we are,
chose to answer the question, “Why do we go on?”
with a piece of art. 

Re-introducing Lawrence Wraith in Die Fledermaus
performing Sunday March 6, 2016 at 2pm
Bickford Centre  - West of Christie Subway on the South Side of Bloor St. West
777 Bloor Street West, Toronto
With a story.

Two Candles - Fiction - Simone Frank $4.95

You had some people cut you off.
Not your problem. It’s theirs.
Nothing left to tell them. Just walk away.
Walk away from the things that make your eyes twitch,
your head hurt, your brow furrow.
Walk away from the things
that compel you to punch brick walls.
Leave the ones who punch you.
Walk away and do something fun.
Do many fun things at least once everyday!

Read books that help you out.
Design a paint by number book.
Sing in a salt bath.
Laugh. Laugh. Laugh.
You’re still alive!
You know why.
Rest now and rejuvenate. Love.

To fight and win doesn’t always feel victorious right away.
Maybe it never will.
Maybe it always will.
My walk through the existential.
I don't have the answers.
But I have tons, mountains and galaxies of questions.
And a lot of art in mind.

Peace, Love and Chocolate!

Hear2Help ( can take you further if you let them. 

The pursuit of justice can be depleting. It can also be the beginning of a vast opportunity for personal development. Be that good to yourself. Managing Director of Hear2Help, Simone Jennifer Smith works closely with two of the leading Meaning Centered Psychologists in Canada. Dr. Lilian and Paul Wong are the founders of the International Network of Personal Meaning. 

The INPM is dedicated to advancing health, spirituality, peace and human fulfillment. Through research, education, and applied psychology, they focus on the universal quest for meaning and purpose. Simone Jennifer Smith holds a M.A. in Humanistic and Clinical Psychology. 

“What have you done for fun?”