All About A Song – A friend in an old 45.

Punk Rock Colleague & Historian and Professional Consultant

Hudley Flipside

Connecting up with the mythos of the film/book and theme song made my struggle in the world of rock & roll and journalism seem strangely important. I identified strongly with all of the female characters from Jacqueline Susann’s book.

Where else was I to find women role models in the world I was part of? It was my continuity with the struggle of women reaching out to me from the 1960s.

An echo of a women’s revolution that is often overlooked today.

At the end of the film there is a Valley of The Dolls ending song that is a direct response to the original theme song. The film ends on a positive note for Anne… but this is of course not the case in the novel.

Theme song from Valley of the Dolls and I Say A Little Prayer are songs which speak to an individual woman and to all women. The songs speak to all individuals and to all people who collectively struggle with life and finding their identity in this paradoxical world. Also, a questioning of our humanity for each other and for something beyond us all.

“Ashley St. Ives: You’re a groovy boy. I’d like to strap you on sometime.”

~ Beyond the Valley of the Dolls

The theme song from Valley of The Dolls had a profound meaning for me as a young woman growing up in the underground music scene of Los Angeles. At that time things like records were not easy to find. Before technology came to making things fast there was a time when waiting to see if you could find it was a thrill.

Will I find that old record at a thrift store or will I see that forgotten film on late night TV?

Valley Of The Dolls is a novel by American writer Jacqueline Susann, published in 1966 and the film came out 1967. A quid pro quo for the 1960s.

I read the book, viewed the film, when I could, and found the Scepter 45 vinyl at a thrift store. I engaged it as part of who I was struggling to become as a woman in a male dominate punk rock scene. I played it on a few of my broadcasts. Flipside Fanzine KFJC Radio 1984.

RIP Patty Duke.

Also a great film labeled as a comedy… 1970.

What’s it all about MR. Fuck

Was it 8 years ago, around this time, that M.r. Fuck came to play? Yes… it was…. this is a happy Mr. Fuck day. And we are, here at Flopside comics, ` as we wait for the rain in southern California. I think, well I know, that Flopside Comics suck. People look the other way and are embarrassed for us here. M.R. fuck does not care about bat man, super man or robin (or flesh Gordon) or any of those mighty men… but instead hangs out with the unspeakable and undesirable! Assholes seeking assholes while demanding to be, “More than an asshole!”

Sincerely,

Mr. Shit

(We here ask the big questions……)

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Song Steps Peace Bird-A bird song…

I video taped this today. A singing bird and even the sound of man… airplane in the background… it is in the contrast that one feels the value of life.

What is man made and what is created by nature and where the two meet !

Reading by Hudley 3/17/2026

We live in “the best of times and the worst of times.” Darkness and light play a game upon us all. Terrorists initiate fear in us all. It is a time to focus on what is enduring in life as the planets, the stars and Spring. The changing of the season is remarkable, accurate and even mathematically perfected. Humor, poems, and music move us to be less hateful and to show empathy proudly. As the wind blows on a warm Spring Day take the time to see the ritual of life.

Today I am thinking about Bernie Sanders and a little peace bird, a synchronicity, which can lead our footsteps towards a tickling of heartfelt humor and baskets of embracing hope. We need to follow our footsteps of synchronicity,

I authored this poem for my father years ago. It is about birds. Not human footsteps but the continuity of singing bird steps.

A bird song…

Today I heard the sound of a singing bird.

What type of bird I do not know?

A sparrow or maybe a blue bird sings

This lovely song of summer and spring.

I’ve heard this singing many times before

As an infant I heard the singing near

My parent’s pool

As a child I also heard the singing

While sliding down a grassy hill.

Now as an adult of forty

I remember all the times I’ve heard the singing

The same song but from different birds

This lovely song of summer and spring.

In California I’ve heard

Their tunes hundreds of times

I’ve changed so much since

The first time I heard the birds singing ‘tell now,

I assume I will hear the same song

A hundred times more,

Until I grow very old.

I think of the song

Of the singing birds

Of all the birds who have sung the song

So many birds, singing the same tune.

I wonder and I’m comforted

Listening to the tunes of the singing birds

It is the ‘ever living song

This lovely song of summer and spring.

For some day when I pass on

As the many birds, who have sung their songs

My children and grandchildren

And great-grandchildren

Will hear the same song,

Hopefully linking us together,

As the same song links

The sweet birds together.

The singing from the sky

The trees bringing us all together

The song will not have changed one note

This lovely song of summer and spring.

~ Holly Cornell May 23, 1993

(Hudley)

Golden Egg

The Easter Bunny is older than Christianity ; it is the Moon-hare sacred to the Goddess in both eastern and western nations.

Recalling the myths of Hathor-Astarte who laid the Golden Egg of the Sun.

May it be an evening star
Shines down upon you
May it be when darkness falls
Your heart will be true
You walk a lonely road
Oh, how far you are from home

Mornië utúlië ((darkness has come))
Believe and you will find your way
Mornië alantië ((darkness has fallen))
A promise lives within you now

May it be the shadows call
Will fly away
May it be your journey on
To light the day
When the night is overcome
You may rise to find the sun

Mornië utúlië ((darkness has come))
Believe and you will find your way
Mornië alantië ((darkness has fallen))
A promise lives within you now

A promise lives within you now

Enya:May It Be Lyrics

Quote Pg. 267 The Woman’s Encyclopedia of Myths and Secrets. pictures taken from Yahoo images online sources.

Time is my friend

tease and tarry

Bibgo

The true feeling of real beauty within must always be focused upon !

Logan’s Run had a profound influence on me at 17. Imagining a place where people were killed off at the age of 30 frightened me. Also having all the plastic surgery you needed to be as beautiful as possible was weird. At 17 becoming 30 seemed like the end of time itself. I also remember thinking about turning 18 seemed beyond belief. My friends and I sat in a circle,while smoking, and looked up at the stars. The night was a time to talk about these things. Later as a young punk I really did not think I would live past 21.

Mojave Desert spring equinox wild flower March 20 2016

Now in May I will be turning 58. I am projecting celebration turning 60 in two years as a happy accomplishment. Life is very precious. So many of my close friends are gone as well as my parents. I have learned that letting go of life is a natural process as we get older. I hold onto my experiences, friendships and books a little less each year. Nature is my special key of hopeful continuity of life. The dependability of the sun and stars is great comfort to me. Yes music, poems and art embellish a long life too.For me, as a crone, letting go is the key of life as I get older. It has become easier to let go.

Besides sooner or later we all will be ash in the wind. It is only a matter of time.

Bikes In Black

Bike In Black Mr. Fuck

glorious shameless orgy

Spring Equinox

The story of Persephone eating pomegranate seeds was related like a fairy tale in place of the original myth; Ovid speaks once of three, once of seven, pomegranate seeds and related that the tree grew in the garden of the king of the underworld.

Pg.134, A Hermetical Essay on the Mysteries, Eleusis ~ Carl Kerenyl

Dandelions in my garden By Hudley March 2016

Last autumn I cleared a patch of earth until it was hard dirt. It stayed this way through the California drought of 2015-16. I was feeling like the dirt; barren, hopeless, and death lingered by grief as a dark hopeless shadow. The underworld loomed close. It was winter. I then focused on my studies of the Eleusinian mysteries, Persephone’s mythology and now Aeschylus’s play Prometheus Bound. Through years of study the time was just right for profound understanding to came quickly.

“ambrosia” and “ichor” and “moly”… in my garden. ` x Prometheus Bound

Now this patch of earth is a glorious shameless orgy of life. The simple saying “life, death and rebirth” shines in my soul. Nature shows us the holy grail within: as Persephone reaching for the dead symbolizing the bridge of rebirth, and as Prometheus bringer of fire gifting humanity the dreams of “dim hopes.”

Fennel Reed from the Santa Monica Mountains CA

Because I granted mortal

men prerogative;

I sought the source

of fire by

stealth and carried it

Within a hollow fennel reed.

My gift to man

Has taught him every skill and

been his great resource.

Such is the crime for which

I pay the penalty,

Spread-eagle, pinned in chains

beneath the open sky.

108-113 Prometheus Bound ~ Aeschylus

On my mind.

Oft’ my WordPress shelf

on this green day before the spring equinox

I pull a picture down.

A rendering I captured of Dad

Glad I did…

His birthday was on the 2nd of December

his Death March 17th…

three years now gone?

Once a day of dancing and drinking

has taken a different tone.

Even through grief

…faded with time…

He is still on my mind today.

I imagine him dancing

with denizens on the Pleiades

happy and content.

Dad before death

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

Three Flopside flopping atomic bomb exploding radiation forming trash Juke Box

Today on SUper Tuesday, political wise…Mr. Pee Wee gUtter sayz,

“this little tune is a must to help us make it through this offensive territorial pissing we are witnessing… but in time things will fucking recycle and move along… just a note, I have heard from reliable fucking sources…”

A out of it cat in the trash, “Ted Cruz getz all his dough from the big bad dudes of Wall street…”

“All of Me” is a popular song and jazz standard written by Gerald Marks and Seymour Simons in 1931.

Mr. Fuck heard, I said heard, that Big mama Clinton is traveling and hanging with the boyz at all of those “honky-tonks” and having a good ‘ole time…

Lastly a hopeful tune as the “sons of bitches” do their thing …. ” political-a- long…

images (8)

This song dedicated to the Donald…

Snap shots in our heart

“For [Aleister] Crowley, who was a painter himself, the artist ranked above the magician on the totem pole of illuminism, and he considered poetry and art as precious tools for transmutimg one’s innermost psychic visions…”
Pg. 92 Wormwood Star, Spencer Kansa

Holly cats teenager — Cats and me …always !! 1970s

Magic is fleeting as is a synchronicity. In contrast to this is the focus upon something that is fleeting. Art and poetry often catch the essence of a fleeting beauty, feeling or moment. The continuity of fleeting moments seem like a continuous projection of a single life. As a kid I use to draw little images in the corner of a large pad of paper. Flipping through the fleeting images we have animation. For me, life is animation for our growing soul.

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

Lynn, She’s not there.

“We can meet Cain, Judas and Lucifer by being aware of our own desires to be false and to betray, to kill our brother and to kill ourselves, that our kiss has death in it and that there is a piece of the soul that will live forever cast out from both human and heavenly company.”

~ Pg. 169 Praxis, James Hillman The Dream and the Underworld.

Lynn drove into the Wall-Mart parking lot.

She was driving a 1960 Pontiac convertible.

Sunglasses pulled back her dark hair.

A cigarette moved as she pulled it out of her mouth to talk.

Don Henley’s lyrics came to mind,

“But I can see you, your brown skin shining’ in the sun, you got your hair combed back and your sunglasses on, baby,”

Lynn’s image passed.

In Wall-Mart,

the Radio

A dagger a song.

into my heart

by The Zombies.

She’s Not There,

Anymore.

Lynn’s lycanthropy biting at our heels

Dear Lynn here comes another Autumn I can feel it and you…

essence of our limitations

William Blake Image form The William Blake Tarot Cards. ~ Ed Buryn

I captured this very small image on a William Blake Tarot Card. I enlarged the image on my iPhone camera. I have a magnifying glass to look over all of his images. There is always something on the cards hiding. This is on the card entitled “EXPERIENCE.”

It is inevitable that I will accumulate experience by living my life. Moving forward even if only sitting in a chair. I value experience over anything.

I have learned that part of growing as a human being is living with paradox, polarity and something more.

That is why I love Blake, he gives me something more. A vast view of life where opposites blend. I then understand my own limitations. There is an inevitable message Blake puts into his work. If I look close enough I joyfully grasp his messages.

“The urge to cure the incurable keeps us from recognizing the essence of our limitations, and the limits that come with the psychopathic essence of personality.”

~ Praxis Pg. 167, The Dream and the Underworld – James Hillman

An inevitable experience was hearing this song played on the Drive In Speaker between movies in the 1970’s. Glad I found it.

Longing

The heart and the mind often long for different things.

Longing for understanding where the two come together in knowing peace.

Where one does not try to outsmart the other.

Longing to fit in and longing to run away.

Longing to build a bridge and hang with Hermes.

Longing to create…

Never ending…

Longing for the dead

miss them.

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

two- Flopside’s flopping atomic bomb exploding radiation forming trash Juke Box

“I am a product of Los Angeles Country,” says Mr. Fuck.

003

“Been around. I was left on the doorstep of a record store head-shop in the San Fernando Valley. I teethed on vinyl and breathed in herbs with my milk as a babe.”

SOng ONe

SOng Two

“My best girl Lame Faced Doll says she loves the streets at night in the city of Los Angeles. She takes the metro, bus and walks miles into the high flying sun of mystery. She listens to the music where ever she finds it,” says the brave man Mr. Fuck.

Cameron, West Angel, n.d., Graphite, ink and gold paint on paper, 23 3⁄4 x 36 3⁄4 inches. Courtesy of the Cameron Parsons Foundation, Santa Monica. Photo Credit: Alan Shaffer

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2014/08/08/marjorie-cameron-moca_n_5656561.html?utm_hp_ref=arts

“What inspires you is not my concern,” says Mr. Shit.

“Take me to any room and it is a holiday room…what is your concern is not mine.”

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SoNg ThrEe

“Boredom and politics… anything but Boredom and politics..

This is dedicated to the man at the art store that threw his cigarette butt down on the asphalt and then picked it back up later and continued smoking it. Repetition always and Recycle everything…” Mr. Shit agrees with Mr. Fuck on this… they are comrades to the end.

Mr Fucks 2nd art projet 001

Flopside’s flopping atomic bomb exploding radiation forming trash Juke Box

Cartton Kult — It is my scene and I can make fun of it if I want too!!

The tune pops in Mr. Fuck’s head and using his finger as a fucking antenna… he moves you… MUSIC WISE!

Repetition is the key to spreading the word. Be it politics, music or art…. not those terrible things called education and math. The pesky fucking continuity of wisdom through MUSIC!

003

The first song is one that has been listened to since the 1930’s ! A Jazz standard. This is mom’s favorite. At this time she is beyond unbelievable earthly destruction. Past the Van Allen radiation belt. A little mystery.

First Song.

Deep Purple

Next Song for today is from the first Heavy Metal Rock band. Oh yes it is fucker. Cause Charlie Tuna said so. (RIP) Who’s Next is a reasonable question!

Getting In Tune.

Last song for today or forever or tomorrow is Dedicated to Kira Roessler and her Academy Awards Success which I feel has nothing to do with this song or this fucking band in particular… thank GODDESS she moved on..!!