I was thinking about what is left over from work done or from ones own experience. I think of a scene from the Musical Film Paint Your Wagon when a scheme is made to gather all the gold that falls down under bars and saloons. Miners for gold losing their gold dust. A clever way to get rich or collect from what is unknowingly or uncaringly left behind.
That is what it is like for me now as I gather my Flipside Fanzine gold that is dissected all over the place. I know I will never get rich from my gossamer shining memories or documentation of a scene during my youthful rebellion, but it seems to go on shimmering everywhere. It has a real story and narrative that I still gather.
I cannot put back together the vein of gold enduring as a solid experience that was documented but I can try and show my story, the Flipside Fanzine story, as it happened, and this is important to me. I can be a magnet pulling the gold of Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine towards me and alchemize the authentic narrative to share. A richness like gold that will endure.
Republished by his Great Granddaughter Holly Duval Cornell / Hudley Flipside.
This book has been with me since I was a child. It was passed on to me by my mother. She received it from her family. It is my maternal great grandfather’s story.
When I first saw it, my mother told me a few things. Her grandfather was a minister from England. She did not know if he was Cornish, Welsh, English, or Scotch-Irish. Who listens much as a kid?
As I got older and wiser and really took a look at the undercurrent of this narrative. Modest that it is, I have come to say it holds a bright gem of Cornish Character. A rich narrative about Cornwall England during the years of mining and changing religiosity. The central point being Redruth, Cornwall England.
This narrative has a light rich touch as the Cornish slang within the story. Written by my great grandfather who tells a moral story valuable to understand and fruitful in human experience.
I have since come to find through my own research and study that Howard Watson was in fact a Methodist Minister who lived in Cornwall England.
After this book was published, he and his family came to the United States and traveled up the Mississippi on a steamboat to the Dakota Territory. He entered a blend of lawlessness, slavery, and growing law and order. He came at a time of planted towns, trains, and the creation of barbed wire. The Buffaloes were almost gone. A shifting time in our American wild west.
Yet this book is a story about characters before this. Cornwall, England is almost like an Island and so rich in ancient history. My eyes are opening to a time that amazes me. A place that supplied the industrial revolution where the Cornish people ‘mined’ for what was needed.
My goal here is to republish this book for my own satisfaction. My great grandfather is preaching to me and the once twinkle in his eyes has passed on to twinkles in mine. His whispers are real as well as his story about a place and time, in Cornish history.
I have added a glossary at the end as well as my own illustrations to enhance the overall narrative. I hope my great grandfather will appreciate my style of art.
A film short by yours truly… feeling spiritual and humor at the same time helps… and life isn’t so bad… happy Caturday. A Cameo appearance by Kitty Poobah!
Out of my mind on a Saturday night,
Nineteen Eighty Four rolling in sight.
Radio Bird Man, up above,
Beautiful baby, save our love.
All night killer, blown away,
All night killer, blown away.
I feel alright, I fell alright,
Feeling alright.
Save your baby, burn my heart,
Save your baby, burn my heart.
Fall apart now baby, fall apart.
Save your baby, burn my heart.
Out of my mind on a Saturday night,
Nineteen Eighty Four rolling in sight.
Radio Bird Man, up above,
Beautiful baby, save our love
Waiting for sentinel lymph node biopsy with lymphoscintigraphy surgery is like being in purgatory. Two weeks of not knowing if there is nothing to be concerned about or on to the next stage of removing cancer. It is a time of waiting and not knowing that can get on one’s nerves.
Yet isn’t this a small motif of our lives, of the overall variables and possibilities of living from day to day?
Where we come from and where we are going is the larger question, yet it is a constant in our lives. We have to trust that the earth will turn, and the sun will rise and so forth.
Knowing this is very comforting to me.
Waiting for surgery is a small motif of waiting for death. It will come someday but we just don’t know when. So, I will live my waiting like I live my life. Trusting the mystery of life, trusting my surgery and hopeful that all will be alright, feeling alright!
It is intense at times; at times all of my breath leaves me. A thread of darkness comes forth to taunt me. Depression or grieving is like that. It does not last long and as William Blake might have said,
“I look for the angels in my life to brighten my day.” One day at a time.
So, I go wondering and look to the wisdom of my Jungian Red Book and Black Books. They cross reference well.
“You know that the name one bears means a lot. You also know that one often gives the sick new names to heal them. Your name is your essence.”
Page 282. (Liber Secundus.)
The Healing of Izdubar by Carl Jung from his Red Book
“The nations will see your righteousness, and all kings your glory; you will be called by a new name that the mouth of the LORD will bestow. You will be a crown of splendor in the LORD’s hand, a royal diadem in the hand of your God. No longer will they call you deserted or name your land desolate.”
~ Isaiah 62:1
Both of the above quotes come from a narrative from both Carl Jung’s Red Book & Black Book Vol. 3.
It is about the sun god Izdubar.
It is about an egg, fire and being healed.
It is from Jung’s psyche that leads me on an interesting journey about something to do with my skin cancer.
So, I am guided back to religious text and ancient narratives that may help me endure what I am going through right now. A new name? A healing name? My animus?
“…from the depths to the heights-hovering around myself amidst fiery glowing clouds-as raining embers beating down like the foam of the surf, engulfing myself in stifling heat- suddenly, once again, blazing up glowing white-embracing and rejecting myself in an enormous game.
I don’t know if I will get to all 11 from my catalog but at least I got to two more. From the original catalog I did in the 1980s. I wanted fans to at least get an organized sense of what we had to offer. I find it delightfully youthful and fanatical as a 65-year-old woman to read these. We were all into the punk scene and loved it madly. I was about 25 when I made this up.
A blast from the past… read with a magnifying glass.
Just having some fun reading over this. It was written back in the 1980s when I felt the need to make the things we were selling understandable in my rude punk way. It was not easy being a female punk around bands, records collectors and all the people who were tough as gram crackers. I am sure pissing off others was not something I tried to do but most likely did. Yet I was the nicer one most times.
I still have the original and it is falling apart so I have it now in a video I made up.
I like going over and keeping my mind fresh on these memories. I am amazed at how many shows I went to. It overwhelms me now as it did then but it was all documented so that makes it nicer still.
I am not a professional actor so reading this was hard to do but I like the cockiness of it.
I was well trained and initiated in the art of one “who caused considerable trouble.”
All Flipside persons’ are… and that is just how it goes.
~ Hudley
Documenting what has already been documented…. as a original source person who was there doing the documenting … as a girl.
Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine # 54 Ten Year Anniversary Issue Facebook Page is obsolete. But here one can see all items available on my WordPress Site available for sell! ⭐️🏵️😸!
I was practicing my HeartMath meditation. I looked up to see the heart reflection in my curtain. I never noticed it before.
It seems that I found an answer to my problem today. Sometimes we try too hard for goodness in the world. We can get bit in the butt by an uncomfortable opposition.
Also if we are out of balance and being nasty and uncomfortably angry and sad, sometimes something very wonderful can hop in our lap.
Life is about balancing out the opposites or opposite forces. It is not easy as you well know.
Sometimes one has to say goodbye to old friends and wait for new ones.
Ideals change as well as hopes. Intelligence and integrity can move away and be far from reach.
Unclear points in life and unknown facts can make life cruel. Yet hanging on to real allies is a gift that illumines my soul.
As the sound of a flute that joins our hearts together in hope of a more loving world !
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