A Flopside Comic meditation of the absurd?

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Mr. Fuck who are you?

He opened the door to the “theater of the absurd!” Times when creative inspiration filled his veins with contradictions of contrition; terror and bliss, hate and love, mediocrity and profoundness! Today, he is outside the door wondering,

“… do I have the will to go through that door again ?”

A Flopside Comic meditation of the Absurd ???

We Need More Power!!

“Hi, it’s another year and you asked for it, here it is, RODNEY ON THE ROQ VOLUME 2. ALL of the bands that you hear every weekend on my show as broadcast on KROQ FM in Pasadena California” ~ Rodney Bingenheimer

What a time we are living in. Forty years of Punk Rock now in museums, a political civil war in the United States and the need to find the meaning of life. Well, back in the day our youthful ways confronted many of these issues with foresight, intuition, rebellion, and music.

I want to share Flipside Fanzine Issue 28 for those that may not have viewed it. Maybe you have the vinyl but never got the insert that Flipside did for this compilation. Most of the insert information was taken from interviews and pictures form other Flipside Fanzines. It has the Flipside Fanzine look and is branded such.

You can do an, “I Spy.” You will notice persons that are still with us and others that are not. Yet, it is an amazing documentation of a growing punk rock scene. Flipside provided a service to that scene.

Ok, I did not burn all the stuff I have with me either, it sets in my special closet with the rest of my art stuff and projects completed, or on the ways to creation. I love working on projects.

At that time working with Posh Boy Records and Rodney was just another way to promote the punk scene that I loved. I still love it and continue to be amazed by that time and place in our Los Angeles punk rock history.

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On Vanowen Street

This morning I was on my own. I was early to my destination so I stopped by a local 7 11 for coffee. It had been five years since entering this store. I also needed to break a twenty-dollar bill that has been in my wallet for a few weeks. While walking back to my car I put two fives in my purse, for the event, and held on to the rest. I looked up from my car and saw a black man with a trash bag and a smile.

His hand was held out to me. I smiled back and walked up to him and asked if this is what he needed. I gave him some money. He hugged me lightly and then kissed my head with a blessing. I smelled the street on him and felt his gentle humanness. He asked if I was going to church. I told him no, but that an artist was speaking at a local synagogue on creation stories.

At that moment, a white man in his late sixties yelled something. I looked around at him and assumed that he and the man, I was talking to, were friends. The light changed to a darkness. My heart went from cheerfulness to a confrontation unwanted. This man was saying some strange things to me.

“Did you know that man is a convicted felon. He has a record. I am glad I am here to save you from him!”

This new man’s conduct shocked me. He was rude, aggressive and was insulting this heartfelt, other man. The black man slowly disappeared as a soft breeze. It seemed to me that he was not about to confront or cause any trouble. Yet the white man continued to slowly insult me. He approached me. I told him to step back and that I was not interested in what he had to say.

I told him that I was not interested in what he had to say because he had no evidence that the other man had a record. He had no evidence he was a convicted felon.

“But we have been watching him, the valley is not what it once was!”

I asked him who the “we” were.  This man did not have an answer. His tongue turned to a mouth of bigotry, hate and slander. He affirmed to me he voted for Trump. I guess he saw my Bernie for President bumper sticker. Was this giving him a justification to verbally attack me?

Today the eyes of heartlessness and political darkness…. did not recognize the kind hand of humanity.

Here in the San Fernando Valley on Vanowen Street.

A few moments later I was in the synagogue. The irritating confrontation faded and art, creation stories and depth mythologies enlivened my soul again.

I learned about a new artist today. His name is Mikalojus Konstantinas Ciurlionis.

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Lightning Flashes 1909 (43KB)

http://ciurlionis.licejus.lt/index_en.html

https://www.facebook.com/Spotlight-the-Arts-159075337460852/

Friendly Echoes

“Eventually, Echo, too, began to waste away. Her beauty faded, her skin shriveled, and her bones turned to stone. Today, all that remains of Echo is the sound of her voice.[12] “

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Hudley Clown party ’83

The echo of music is all that is left of the experience we shared. Just like Echo, we begin to waste away. Knowing the melting of my brain towards this reality, is something we all face. Is there comfort in the echo of music?

Yes there is!

It can be like an old friend that does not age. It is like an eternal echo from the past that is consistent with the present and beyond.

Lyrics echo this and books echo that.

Memories are echoes in my mind. I can go over the memories again and again.

I miss so many scenes and groups of people who have gone. I still hear the sounds of their voices but they are not there. People, places and things that hold on with an echo.

That eternal echo of music, clubs and beer.

Screaming, dancing and holding friends near!

Dear long friendly echoes.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/echo/

My Medicine Wheel

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My Medicine Wheel I made at 13 ~ 14 years old.

Based on the teachings of the Native American Indians’ tradition, I have made it a way to live my life. The four directions and the sacred animals of each direction. East-Eagle-Spring, West-Bear-Autumn, South-Coyote-Summer and North-Buffalo-Winter.

We and the earth are one! This is an innocent thing to say in this time and age. Humanity is drawn away from the earth. It is in the little things that we do to connect to the earth that make a big difference. Then all is revealed in remarkable ways.

I made my personal connection through the praying mantis too. Life, death and rebirth is a natural cycle of everything. I see it everywhere. I see it in history and music too.

My little wheel of magic has followed me to many places. It is falling apart.  Yet, today when so much is happening in the world. Fighting, protesting, anger and loneliness, this all reflects a helplessness I feel in myself. What can I do?

Here I will share a bit of my strength and magic. I hope that it comforts someone! My message is that nature is powerful and that his plan is a strange one. A wonder to behold. Nature is he and she … an androgynous self-creator…and this is who we are!

“A human being has so many skins inside, covering the depths of the heart. We know so many things, but we don’t know ourselves! Why, thirty or forty skins or hides, as thick and hard as an ox’s or bear’s, cover the soul. Go into your own ground and learn to know yourself there.”

~ Meister Eckhart

Scorching Propaganda

Laws control the lesser man… Right conduct controls the greater one.

~ Mark Twain

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As I research this Bannon character, who is about to take over the White House, or become the new Chief of Staff, I see a man with honorable and dishonorable credentials! He is playing the country against itself. All the nasty shadowy things come forth as hate, power and helplessness. He plays democrats and republicans against the other. We are being scorched to some unknown place ahead of us.

I have been invited to create a postcard and send it, in opposition of Bannon. Yet, by reading about him I have learned so much more about politics. I can not say his goals are strangely honorable or dishonorable. He seems like a Hanibal Lecter sort of motivated politician? He seems to want to tear down the system as it is. What value or danger is awaiting “we the people” is not clear to me. He has scorched us.

I will send my postcard. Yet, the contradictory ways of Bannon are strange. But are they? He uses technology and knowledge to manipulate us. His propaganda is meant to awaken a response in us. Edward Bernays knew this by way of Freudian psychology. Not a new game in politics, corporations or religion.

My postcard will also state an open question to him.

“What is your goal for “we the people?” Are we to be scorched only? You have scorched those in power now!  Are you just a Dr. Jekyll -Mr. Hyde evil genius like the newspapers say?”

“You fear the world too much,’ she answered gently. ‘All your other hopes have merged into the hope of being beyond the chance of its sordid reproach. I have seen your nobler aspirations fall off, one by one, until the master passion, Gain, engrosses you. Have I not?”
Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol

Postcard Avalanche to Denounce Bannon

https://www.facebook.com/events/235432800204102/

This Man Is the Most Dangerous Political Operative in America

https://www.bloomberg.com/politics/graphics/2015-steve-bannon/

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/scorched/

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I will vigorously oppose…

 

Flopside Comics

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Be more than an asshole!

I was out the other night. “We skipped the light fandango” a bit. Now and then a pint, at the local pub, is a requirement of sanity amongst the battling of our republic. A young local toxicologist asked me, demanded, that he would like some more of my Flopside Bubble Gum Comics. I said I will bring more.  Yet, here is all of them. You can purchase them through my P.O. Box  I do no sell them thorough my PayPal account as I do My Punkalullaby Journals.

P.O.Box 5355, West Hills, Ca 91308

FLOPSIDE COMICS HERE

! NEW FLOPSIDE COMICS… For SALE two buck !

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I will vigorously oppose…

A memory play list for Veterans day

You’re only as good as the best thing you’ve ever done.

~ Billy Wilder

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Dad a WWII Veteran (RIP) and his Grandson JF. Santa Cruz CA 1992

I was always listening to music while working on Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine: Social Distortion to Jefferson Airplane, J.F.A. to Mott the Hoople , The Ramones to C.C.R., The Clash to David Bowie, The Crass to The Who! I was always linking the past to the present and those punk records keep coming !

I know  you can hear little glitches throughout  these videos. Some sort of subliminal mind-control media profit annoyance. Well, they have not got me yet…. it just sounds like scratches on my vinyl records. Nothing new.

No teeth and giggling

Coming generations will learn equality from poverty, and love from woes.

~ Khalil Gibran

At the most troubling times strange things happen. I knew a flip was on the way. I felt it! The super moon affirms it. Yet, the continuity and mathematical perfection of the dance of the earth and the moon, do leave a way to contingency. Made hopeful, I was reminded of this today.

Times like these I turn to poets, philosophy and depth psychology. A mental triangular thought of three words guided me. The last few weeks causality, teleology and synchronicity moved me.

I try to remember the powers of these principles as meaning something special in my life, and as I see the possibilities, as special happenings, in the lives of others.

Today while giving blood to the vampires at Kaiser, my eyes fell upon a father and his son. He had his, under a year, child spread out ready for a fast diaper change. I said, “How lucky you are!” He smiled and tickled the belly of his son.

The child was looking in the opposite direction.  “Hello there,”  I said.

The child turned to me with a big smile. A hello that would make the whole world rejoice. No teeth and giggling with the power of the cosmos glowing in his being.

I was deeply touched .

“Oh, how lovely. You have made my day… thank you!”

As I walked away from the hospital, I knew that the principle of contingency zeroed in on me in a cosmic moment.

A bowing to my hidden psyche, and a bowing back to the child of the cosmos !

We will be OK !!

Blues for Baby and Me…The Adventures of Sony and Raubie

I don’t remember what season it was. Just that it was in the early morning before the sun came up.I dressed myself in blue jeans, t-shirt and a blue jeans jacket with Dove written on the back. I went down to Sony’s corral. I dressed him up for a long ride. I had some money in my pocket.  Parents did not have a clue, only Ruff and her horse knew where we were going. But, we were going in defiance to their repeated nos. We were hitting that unknown trail to the beach. We did not know how we would get there, besides on the back of our horses.

We knew our way to Mulholland. The wild Santa Monica trails are old fire roads of adventure. We road towards the west / south sands of Topanga beaches. The Pacific Coast Highway were shining dreams to us. Ruff wondered how her horse would respond to the sound of waves. I told her I craved riding Sony galloping over salty ocean foam!

A long ride over the hills emptied us in the middle of Old Town Topanga. In the center of town was an old gas station. Ruff and I took turns at the bathroom. While I was alone in the restroom two women held me hostage. Crazy women that laughed as I confronted them. I ran for the door and didn’t look back. I heard them laughing as we jumped on our horses and trotted away with fingers in the air. The sun wan overhead. We walked the horses along the heart of Topanga. The traffic was building up which was dangerous for us as any biker.

The canyon turned and we rode as determined as a couple of teenage girls can get.

“Hol, I think we can head down one of these trails, and ride a stream towards the beach. What do you think?”

“OK, lets do it!”

We must have taken the wrong path. Sony started slipping on falling rocks. I fell off Sony. I rolled down a hill landing on a big bouquet of fragrant ocean fennel. Sony took off by himself. He ran back towards the center of Topanga. Ruff helped me on to the back of Raubie and we galloped towards Sony. I was terrified that he might run into a car. After a few moments, we found Sony eating some grass on the side of the road. I hopped over my horse and we found another trail towards a stream.

“Hol, don’t you ever tell my mom what just happened! Or Raubie will be gone for sure!”

“Ruff, OH YA!”

The four of us traversed the spotty streams. Waterfalls, large boulders and deep pools of sparkling water filled us with beautiful wild silence. We stopped and rested for the food that Ruff packed. A couple of sandwiches, a coke, and carrots for the horses. Ruff was a mastermind of probabilities because she read so many damn books! We both had a wild wonder in our bellies that pulled us on.

On the right side of Topanga Canyon we came upon a large pond. The water was deep enough where the horses could swim downstream.  A scream from Ruff alerted me to danger! Raubie turned around in the pond with Ruff on him.  Ruff swam up from under her horse. Ruff was pissed. I tied Sony’s hackamore reins to a nearby tree and jumped into the pond. I got Raubie on land. Ruff followed safely. We were both soaked to the skin.

Eight hours and we were almost there.

“I swear I can hear and smell the ocean waves Ruff!

At Topanga Canyon and Pacific Coast Highway we crossed on a green light. Traffic exploited by. Two miles down on either side was a long fence. The beach was fenced off. We stood there with the horses ears sticking straight up. The waves crashed as our dreams dropped. Regardless, it is a magical moment etched in my heart.

“Hol, I think it is time to get back before our parent’s start to worry about us.”

It was a long cold ride home. The sun set by the time we got there. I could hear Ruff’s mom screaming at her, in German, across our small valley. It echoed as my dad and I laughed. Dad was drunk on the porch looking over the San Fernando Valley lights. My mom had me take off my clothes before I entered the house. Into the wash they went. I cleaned up, dressed and went back outside. I told Dad about my adventure as we sat and watched the valley lights together.

Ruff was not allowed to ride with me for a month.