The Song of Sophia

Spring Dionysian Hollyhock from my garden



I lost the source of this song but as I was researching ancient tunes, I came across this one that I found interesting. I asked my niece who plays the violin if she might bring it to life. She lives in Seattle, Washington, and I live in California. I was going to university, and I wanted to present this in a presentation for a course I was taking. It is lovely and there is no claim of it.
I wish I had a copy of the music I found in an archive somewhere.
Yet I am reading a new book entitled Sophia Wisdom: Heart Wisdom by Annne Elizabeth Taylor and the book is inspiring my Sophia research from years ago and all my lost studies are coming together again and I am overcome. So, I made this little sequence.


Having a Bit of Fun Video A Happy Celebration of Time Shared on this weird planet…

“But how do you thank someone

Who has taken you from crayons to perfume?

It isn’t easy, but I’ll try

If you wanted the sky

I would write across the sky in letters

That would soar a thousand feet high

“To sir [s], with love”



That crazy Godzilla Punk Rock Night Club in Sun Valley is where I first saw GBH’s – Leather, Bristles, Studs and Acne spray painted on the wall.

I was then in search and found the vinyl and became a fanatic. 44 years now for me.

The album City Babys Revenge is one of the best sounds of punk rock! The band and songs are phenomenal. A forty-year celebration. I got the vinyl from Zed Records of Long Beach and played it loads. Yet seeing (Charged) GBH live was just the best experience I had as a young punk bird. They still thrill me as an old crone owl.

A hardy band that still tours around the world and I think they are indestructible. I really do!


A bit of history in front of Perkins Palace Pasadena mid 1980s.


Weeping Tears of Animus!

Tonight, wee hours of morn… I have been spending time awake with my animus!

A cup of coffee my ambrosia

kneading kitty on my lap

Happy happy

Thinking of male figures in my life

Who I admire and love!

Tonight I,

Acknowledge the male within me

You have not lost me

I embrace you

And let you cry

honey let it out

Weeping weeping wet tears

My night with animus!

Heal the headache, tears

Heartache and trauma.

The earth and sky

Jupiter and moon .

A Ghost Mantis holding a Thyrsus

In Greek religion, the staff was carried by the votaries of Dionysus. Euripides wrote that honey dripped from the thyrsos staves that the Bacchic maenads carried. The thyrsus was a sacred instrument at religious rituals and fêtes.


Light and shadow magic comes to visit at different times in life.

The wind was strong and pushed over my angel solar light. I just got home from shopping as I was looking up at Jupiter and the waxing moon.

I have been changing my routines a bit. I go shopping at dusk now and take my showers in the morning or in the middle of the day.

Taking morning walks is something different too.

When I saw the angel at an angle, I ran to fix it when I noticed the shadow playing on the wall behind it.

I said aloud, “A Ghost Mantis holding a Thyrsus.”

I will let the angel be.

I took a picture and played with the image on Adobe Photo Express.



A lack of human consciousness.

Taken from The Terrible Death Bubble Gum Comic A Flopside COmic.



“The Double does not exist only as an Ahrimanic shadow in individual men. There are members in this Doppelgänger sub-hierarchy of far greater power who act as the anti-spirits of peoples, nations, and races. And finally, there is the World Doppelgänger, the Anti-Spirit of Humanity, which plays its historic role as a servant of Lucifer in opposing the rightful evolution of human consciousness.”

Pg. 291 The Spear of Destiny, Trevor Ravenscroft

Friday night was time to go out and celebrate cause my man was winning a Chess tournament online. Youngest son, my man and I made three.

We went to the local Pub and then bar to celebrate properly.

We played darts at the Pub and had some healthy “Humulus lupulus” while listening to real records. The hiss and scratches and well listened to 45s made the music more enjoyable to me. Soul and ska and other melodies moved through the Pub and lots of hugs were shared.

At the next-door bar, we had some cocktails and enjoyed the slow ambiance of a well-loved bar. Nice and easy with an anime film on the screen. A break from the usual sports in most bars.

As we were finishing up, I looked over to see a man with a beard. Brown and rather friendly looking. We smiled in what I thought was a happy nod of enjoyment. He came up to us as my youngest son got up to take care of business. Then the man walked over to my man and me.

“Not just Jews were killed in WWII by the Nazis.”

We responded with a knowing agreement. Then he went on.

“My great grandfather saved a whole lot of people. Christians mostly and not many Jews.”

Seems this guy was reflecting upon his grandfather and WWII.

“You liberals think it was only Jews. You who voted for Biden and Kamala Harris!”

We then got a little confused and I said,

“How do you know who we voted for?”

Then he addressed me directly,

“Who did you vote for?”

“None of your business!”

We batted that back and forth a few moments.

Then came the flip into a world of conspiracies and insanity when he looked at me and addressed me singularly.

“You liberal voting people think only the Jews were killed in concentration camps. But you are the real Nazis.”

“How do you go from talking about WWII and then accuse me of being a Nazi?”

I then put my hand on the table with a whack. Telling him about how my dad got a purple heart as a captain pilot during WWII.

“I respect that you grandfather saved many lives during the war from concentration camps. Yes, there were all sorts of people who died there, and the people were also saved. Gypsies, Christians, Jewish people, I really don’t think it mattered who you were or your faith. Hitler killed anyone opposed to his belief system of inhumanness.”  

The man with the beard seemed filled with total contrary ideas that made no sense but only served to confuse and attack others who he found offensive. He is one of the ministers of chaos. Who spreads their hate talk.

It was a really sad moment of the evening, and when he told me he did not give a fuck about Iranian women’s demands for freedom I turned my back to him and walked away with hands up.

Youngest son confused him by saying,

“I didn’t vote for Biden.” (Just to see the bearded mans confused expression of an unexpected answer.) And added,

“Thanks for the story.”

Nothing that going to Denny’s didn’t wash away mighty fast…

At Denny’s youngest son was laughing and said,

“I was staring at the tiles in the bathroom and then I walked out, and you were talking to this guy. It was a weird thing to walk into….”

He really enjoyed the people we met last night between the pub and the bar.

These chaos ministers are a part of

WE THE PEOPLE,

They are out there,

and it is something to be aware of,

Even at the local bar.

“Alister Crowley adopted different identities when the mood struck him-and, like Trump, did his best to keep his name in the newspapers-and chaos magick asserts that one’s identity is malleable, that one should “reinvent’ oneself often, play different roles. We should pretend to be someone else, to envision a “magical self” possessing all the qualities that we desire, something that some New Thought advocates also suggest . Chaos magick also promotes the idea of using “shock tactics” saying something “outrageous” in order to “enhance personal power,” something that, as with much else about chaos magick, seems to come to Trump naturally.”

Pg. 76-77, Dark Star Rising, Gary Lachman

Does George Santos ring a bell? He is an manifestation of this  “Crazy Wisdom” of “Chaos magic!”

Seems it is what it is.

In a bar in the San Fernando Valley California to the House of Representatives

bewildering our beloved District of Columbia,

these dark spirits or anti-humans are hanging around,

spreading their chaos, chanting….


“I am the spirit that negates.

And rightly so, for all that comes to be

Deserves to perish wretchedly;

‘Twere better nothing would begin.

Thus everything that your terms, sin,

Destruction, evil represent—

That is my proper element.”

― Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Faust – Part One


Epeisodion One: Larry Lash One Who Caused Considerable Trouble


In a matter of speaking Epeisodion One of the three narratives of Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine the Narrative Documentary / Film is a long dream of mine which has now come to it’s fruition. Created during the the end of the Covid-19 pandemic.

I had all that I needed to be creative in my cave.

I turned to Zoom, my cell phone and many means of programs to complete this. Which is the longest of the three. Larry Lash is a prodigious storyteller and as my mentor, original staff creation person of Flipside Fanzine, his interview in the first Epeisodion holds humongous satisfaction in my following the narrative through to its completion.

I have transcribed copies and digital copies of all three interviews. Epeisodion Two and three are very clean. Yet in Larry’s case Zoom did not synchronize our interview.

It took me a long time and a lot of figuring out to get it as good as I was capable. I separated our two interviews. I separated Larry and myself, so I had to edit us together again in two different programs. It was a very frustrating process, but I learned how to use all the tools of a film editor. The Flipside Fanzine way.

I think it was Michael Moore who said.

“To start a documentary, one starts with the tools and materials you have close around you.”




https://filmfreeway.com/HudleyFlipside


I was at a place that really got it

Five to eight hours we would spend at the Scotland Yard Pub in Canoga Park. Music, beer, and friends was the key to a great night.

Tonight, Friday the 13th this January 2023. We were debating going to the “Yard.”

We lazed around and asked each other,

“How about a pint at the Yard?”

“Ah, well the last bartender there tried to rip us off. No band playing around, and he wanted to charge us an extra fee.”

“Well, he most likely does not work there anymore, it has been a while since we went.”

“If you really want to go.”

“It might be ok, if we don’t like it, we can leave quick.”

So, we went, and I am glad we did. The “toxicologists” were really nice. Two people that had a history there but new to us. They poured a mean Guinness. Perfect.

I waited for the DJ to spin his records.

Telling the bartender,

“I will wait for my second Guinness. If I like the first song, he plays I will have another.”

I did. The technology is different, but the style was progressively historic. A mixture of generally fun songs.

One I liked was a rendering of Spandau Ballet’s – True. Which happens to be one of those songs that has a notch in my songs of synchronicities throughout my life. It comes a calling speaking the truth of life to me. Telling me good things. Like this bar has a soul.

We were drinking our first pint when a song came on the jukebox machine stereo. Another song that has meaning to me of confidence and movement in my life. Jimmy Eat World – The Middle.

A few years ago, I was wrestling through some dark times and that song showed up a lot to raise my spirits. This bar has a good spirit of friendship and caring. It listens to the people here.

Yet what really told me that punk rock still mingles in the air, corners, and heart of this place, a song by the band Fear came on as we walked in the door on the jukebox machine stereo.

Didn’t I just post something about the band FEAR today? That is how it has always been here at the Yard.

The first night there years ago when a DJ named Chris Ford played Suspect Device by Stiff Little Fingers, that is when I knew I was at a place that really got it.

I walked up to him and asked him to play another one of their songs. He was amazed I even knew who the band was.

This bar holds the magic of music, spirits and friends and I am so glad that the musical synchronicities which led me through this short hour are still alive and well and available to all who attend this bar.

It made me feel great. It was quaint, beautiful, and my potato chips in my Guinness foam were heavenly.


We can work it out Postcards …


A last year regret… that comes a calling.

Tito is the best part of a rather sad story about creativity. What it is and what it is not.


Things that bug me at night or during the day… what made me sad after the deal. Dealing with band managers and big wig film people that act like sugar but are not to be trusted. I am learning the hard way and if you are nice, they will screw you. It is so contrary and confusing.

Last year having someone from Universal email me about an image from Flipside to use on a T-Shirt for a film was an interesting story.

The first point being is I was amazed that Universal sought out original source. Next the image was found on a T-shirt for sale at a store in Los Angeles.

The person who used the image from Flipside took it and just used it. He made a silk- screen and sold it for maybe twenty bucks. A copycat for profit. He was not creative enough to come up with his own original design but ripped off someone else’s work.

Next there is the designer who wanted the image to be used on a T-shirt for a big wig film.

This designer most likely got the credit for designing a T-shirt with an image which received permission from Universal to use. That is because they found me, original source. The designer was not creative enough to come up with their own original design but ripped off someone else’s work.

I only got $200.00 for letting the designer use the design originally from Flipside Fanzine. A picture taken by Al Flipside. Since he is not around to defend his work, I try and do it for him.

At the time images were taken to put in a Fanzine, created by fanatics of their punk scene. It was done to support and promote bands when no one else did. Flipside hardly did it for money but for the love of a scene. It was a hell of a lot of fun. We got our perks in many different ways.

Yet I sure would like to know how much the designer got for taking someone else’s image and putting it on a T-shirt. A copycat for profit. When you think about it, it kind of makes no creative sense.

I am sorry that seems like a pretty strange way to make money. In the film the actor covers the T-shirt anyway.

Both the guy who sold the T-shirt at the store in Los Angeles and the designer come from the same bag. A rotten one for sure or maybe since I was dealing with Universal, I might have asked for more money, maybe ten grand. Hey what is ten grand to a big wig company like Universal? Maybe I should have told them to go screw too. Yet it was exciting to be part of a film in a very very very very small way.

In conclusion an uneasy thread to pull and reflect upon.