The autumnal equinox is tonight.
I feel like I cleaned some stuff up.
Today I hear ringing in my ears.
I don’t mind much. I feel something in the air.
I think through generations of life lived.
I opened my art closet.
I let it air out.
The cats are curious right away.
Me I am not so curious.
So much time, creativity,
and options of delight, yet not today.
I feel like it needs to be a rainy day.
Every item in my art closet has a story.
A magic place that turns my imagination into projects.
I sit waiting for I don’t know what…
End of Fucking Summer fun…
I have a terrible headache as though my head might explode. This is the new Flopside Bubble Gum comic soon to come out.
PUNK DRUMMERS WHOSE HEADS EXPLODED WITH A BIG LOUD BANG.
Pain aside this is a terrible doodling comic that needs to explode on the world and so it sucks…
Be more than an asshole…
The Flopside Crew,
Mr. Shit, Mr. Fuck and Bloody Elbows…
The Wabanaki Indian tribes, who craft their baskets from ash splints, have a tradition that humans were first created from black ash trees as well. The Chitimacha Indians believed ash was poisonous to rattlesnakes and would use ash canes to drive away snakes. Some Great Plains tribes, such as the Ponca, used green ash wood instead of cottonwood for their sacred Sun Dance poles. ~ http://www.native-languages.org/ash-tree.htm
An Ash tree is being cut down tomorrow in our neighborhood. My neighbor told me so as she walked by one evening while I was outside. Shock quickly ran throughout my body as a strange sad sensation.
From my yard I can see the Ash tree. It’s been home to hawks and ravens and many other animals over the years. It is a family of two other giant Ash trees on our neighbor’s property.
We too have one in our front yard which stands about 12 feet. It is only a two-year-old. Our gardener and I are watching the tree closely. It is being trimmed and we will not let it get too big or start the process of spreading its multitude of seeds.
We now also have a fence on either side of our yard of Ash trees that are groomed to be just that.
Today I walked by the neighbor’s home and talked to her about the tree. It was growing into their homes foundation and there are issues of telephone and electrical lines. I told her.
“I hope you don’t mind me saying a prayer for the tree. I know of the hawk and ravens who live there.”
We agreed it was the best thing to do. I walked away happy. Then this story revealed itself to me.
The Ash tree story.
My parents planted an Ash tree near their home the day one of my brother’s was born. He is two years older than I.
Growing up with that Ash tree is something I sure did enjoy. Out of my parent’s second story house I often looked out at the tree throughout the seasons. There once were some steps that ran by the tree from the hill down to the home yard below.
As the years went by seeds from this tree blew over to the other side of their house. An Ash tree grew wild there a few feet away from the carport. The carport was above their house since they lived on a hill.
I was pregnant with my second boy when the mother Ash was cut down. Seems the Ash tree was on the border between to property lines.
I threatened to tie myself to the tree so it would not happen.
I had countless arguments with builders and my parents yet could not stop it from being cut down, Dad and mom agreed to it being cut and taken away. They kept tree wood for their fireplace.
I grieved the tree for a long time.
About ten years later I was talking to my mom on the phone. I heard her scream.
“Your father just drove the car over the carport.”
She hung up on me. I went into shock. I called my husband at work. He left to go see how my mom and dad were. I lost time until my husband came home and told me what had happened.
When he got to my parents’ house it was surrounded by three fire trucks. Dad was still alive. He was in the car unable to get out. The car was facing front side down and the tail end up. What kept him from rolling down the hill in his car to the house below was that same Ash tree that grew up from a seed long ago. An Ash tree saved my dad’s life.
How dad’s car was towed up the hill is a blur to me. The fact is after a few hours the firemen got him out safely.
Dad was washing the car that day on the carport. He stepped on the gas instead of the breaks. This is what sent him over a 12-to-15-foot drop.
The Ash tree in our neighborhood will be cut down tomorrow. In my yard are several Ash trees that came forth from such a mother Ash tree. Hawk and raven are always welcome here. Their flying patterns have changed. I can see that they already know that a change is coming.
Hey pretty kitty
You gots the drooling cat blues
Hey white Mr. Po Po
You gots the drooling cat blues
You lay around all day
And sun yourself in the morning dew.
Hey white puss
You gots the drooling kitty blues
Hey white Mr. Po Po
It is smelly old news
You lie around all day
And you gots to take that morphine too.
But you knows pretty kitty
We all loves ya too.
Hey pretty kitty
You gots the drooling cat blues.
~ Hudley 3/9/21
The risks we take , it is not the time…
What is nice in my neighborhood today. Low key, safe, neighbors are running and walking. No crowds or large parties…. no protests. I can feel safe here. I hope you have a safe home too. The bees are here, the butterflies are moving through, and the wind is warm. The dogs bark and the raven sings.
My John is home sleeping on the couch. He is not at the hospital taking care of too many sick people today… makes me sad. Yet, my cats are playing and sleeping, and I am safe.
I used to go see bands, promote them, and do anything to be with them. Not now… I will not risk spreading covid19 or getting sick for them. I hope they are all well… as well as well can be for these crazy times.
A very contrary good frustrating place to be… yet I hang in my cave , I am dew on a rose…
Sabrina Cowgirl Extraordinaire Episode Four
Sabrina and Cooing Dove’s first encounter with each other. Or Colin’s best friend Hawk.
Hawk was a traveler from tribe to tribe. He shared stories about the Great Peacemaker. He often would have to earn favor with each community he approached. Showing he was not a Brave of war, trickery, or bad medicine.
Hot buttered rum was a drink my uncle Royal made up for the Holidays in Autumn and Winter. He had a small store-bought bucket with the ingredients. He put a tablespoon in a cup of warm water and rum. The smell was cinnamon, butter, and pumpkin spices.
As I watched him make the drinks for the adults. He would give me his cocky smile while making one up for me without the booze. We gave each other a wink, a click of the mouth and a nod… after uncle pulled out his cigar. “Just like James Cagney.” Soon the men would be playing poker.
Years later I lived alone on the east coast in Rochester New York during the same holidays. One evening after work I went into a bar and sat down, I asked for a hot buttered rum. Surely, they had the same bucket of goodness sold at most liquor stores behind the bar. The hostess looked at me like I was a moron, who I most likely am. I saw some talking behind the bar. Then the bartender came out with warm water in a cup, a jig of rum, and a tab of butter. Now I looked at him like the moron.
Before I put the chemistry together three jigs were brought up and turned over before me. Whack, whack whack … the three pints of local beers were welcomed. I learned then the customs of local drunks. The moral of this story is that the Butter Rum Life Savers taste like my Uncle Royal’s Hot Buttered Rum cocktail.
He had a big old ranch style house and farm in Anaheim Orange County. Not two miles from Knots Berry Farm. When the big deal was jam. fried chicken and mining for gold. Pomegranates, oranges, and avocado trees once strummed his house for a few miles. It is now a house landmark. His sons had the house and land protected. It is most likely a stranded place surrounded by fast food joints, apartments and who knows what. I should go see the old farm again someday!
In Jung’s theory, the anima makes up the totality of the unconscious feminine psychological qualities that a man possesses and the animus the masculine ones possessed by a woman.
So, when a man puts down or suppresses a woman, it tells us that he has a complex or issue with his own feminine. As an individual or collectively. We live in a patriarchal world. There are so many journeys a male has to correct this problem. Myth, religion, and psychology, or maybe just listening to a female for a change.
Women can learn to handle this problem by developing and having a strong ego and addressing the male within her own psyche.
It is so different what a man and woman face and project out into the world. When I am conflicting with a man it is because my animus is acting up and needs to find balance. I must express my intellect and feelings. It is a challenging and rewarding process where I have found bliss, creativity, and hope… one does not always have to dwell in the underground…maybe a good film noir satisfies this dilemma… a heavy metal song or horror film… or a cup cake with lots of frosting. I like having a well-balanced animus and anima. It took a lot of work… I am aware of it always as a process of life. It is not boring in the slightest, either.
One of the three sister goddesses known as the three Graces who are the givers of charm and beauty in Greek mythology…. I call upon her now…. we need real beauty….,
You may think the story I am about to tell you is a bizarre story, but it is real, we are living it… yes now… it is redundant.
I have foresight. It means I can see things. The Covid-19 and all variants are not what you may think. It lives and expands through our bodies. Spreading from human to human …
If you could see it like I can, I encourage you to change your mind about things. If you are playing it safe, you will understand that what you are doing is for the common good of all human beings.
From another realm the Covid-19 virus is like a vast spider’s web. It takes and expands. It goes around and around. Humans are just a source of temporary expanding blissful glory of this multidimensional expanding life force.
It hovers and attacks those who are unaware and stupid. It can read minds and goes after those who play this death game. Some humans are in on it. They think they have control, and they want other people to die. It is a form of mass hysteria of denial that the virus picks up on. It is not stupid. It wants to survive. Until the very end.
I can see it. My foresight tells me to tell people to beware, be careful… yet they play a lost game of denial, ignorance, and defiance. They tease it. This only makes it hungrier. The common good of humanity is not their concern.
I wait and watch from my cave. Deep grieving I feel. I see it all from my electrical fire. I see the variant spreading. A dancing organismic virus web going around and around… and every time I see it from a distance, it sees me very aware.
I give it the finger because mine is cleaned and watched, my mask is on and I social distance. That is the one thing this creepy multidimensional monster hates.
I hope you know what this vast nympho wants… close together people, human beings who sweat on each other, jumping up and down against each other. It is a nightmare, Surreal-intrinsic… and all I can do is watch from a distance.
Innocuous in my cave around the electrical fire, for now… what a real sickness I see…