The Call Of the Holy Baubo Protagonist!

The call of holy Baubo is strong now.

The evil shadow of history comes forward again…

The highest court of our land is making it impossible for women to care for their own bodies. When women are deflowered or devalued it is time to look at the other sex… the male, especially all conservative moronic males, and their bitches…. Time to address their sperm and ask the big question,

“If a man gets a woman pregnant without the holy affirming blessing of the great Baubo herself, then off with his balls, or head … whichever. What do you think about that justice?”

Baubo’s theme song…. always and forever.


Chris Bailey’s psychic being is still very strong!

Rendering of the band The Saints. Hudley Flipside, 2010.


I have often written that the band The Saints are one of my only addictions in my life. After the death of Chris Bailey, I have been grieving him and a general time shift. The 70s, 80s, 90s, 2000s, 2010s and now. Over 40 years. This band led me on a path into a different realm of being. I found a bunch of misfits like myself. I found my voice and I awoke from a kind of existential youthful experience into finding myself and my soul. Music, friends, and a punk community that still holds my heart. Yet also knowing Chris Bailey was born the same time and so close to mine … we share these same generations or ten-year changes. Youth to adulthood and being senior citizens. As this post explains so much more in an indirect way too. In my grief I decided to do something that I do once in awhile to sooth my soul. I reached out to Carl Jung books. What came to mind yesterday was something from one of Carl Jung’s Black Books. Volume two page 175-6. I read from the last paragraph. I call it a random reading. The intuitive response is amazing to me. Encouraging action also. So, with this so much is shared, and I am content to move on past my grief. Into a new season of life knowing that

“the world beyond, where men are whole and complete, unlike here. The saint’s halo also characterizes his transcendent shining light, his psychic being.” ” (p.162) The Black Books, Volume Two, Carl Jung

Life endures … this gives me hope maybe like finding the Sun!

“In this moment the enormous tension was released and like rain it swept away [57/58] everything that was tensed, too highly strung. And soon sleep returned and brought with it a curiously beautiful image.” {138}

“Forms walked clad in white silk in a colored atmosphere. Each surrounded by a strangely fragrant, glowing tinted aura, some reddish, the others blueish and greenish.” {139}

{138} “This paragraph was replaced in LN by “Then I had a second vision.” ” (p.162)


Picture.. reversed.
The Saints (Barry Francis, Ivor Hay, Janine Hall, Bruce Callaway, Chris Bailey) at The Hero of Waterloo, Sydney. 1980. Picture by Judi Dransfield Kuepper…) image taken from article by John Willsteed, https://theconversation.com/a-gentleman-with-the-mad-soul-of-an-irish-convict-poet-remembering-chris-bailey-and-the-blazing-comet-that-was-the-saints-181059?fbclid=IwAR3o-g8RRKpyNxgIQ6x7QsihP9fTBaDqaBZhzozuQI0oHlaWVenjLWeZ_F8

{139} “Jung recounted this dream to Aniela Jaffé and commented upon it as follow: “This is some kind of in-between realm (the term definitely occurs in the original version of the dream) The idea was that if one is confronted with the shadow- as was the case through the experience of Siegfried’s dream– then the idea comes: I enter into a twilight: I am this and yet also something else. And this doubleness an abdication of the unconscious, which reached strangely far beyond me. Like a saint’s halo– This has a strange effect on the attitude toward the human being. If one is in the company of several persons, and one knows them and knows about their shadows, one then sees these people as they are, but are also something entirely different. They are surrounded by a strange sphere. They live in a strange, light-colored sphere, which circumscribes their ‘other’ state. This seemed to me to be like a vision of the world beyond, where men are whole and complete, unlike here. The saint’s halo also characterizes his transcendent shining light, his psychic being.” (MP, p. 170) The reminder of this entry was replaced in LN by “I know, I have stridden across the depths. Through guilt I have become newborn.” ” (p.162)

Siegfried’s dream

http://mlwi.magix.net/siegfried.htm

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Black_Books_(Jung)


The Yucca Poem



Upon the wall was a painting
Simply framed of a Yucca plant
My parents’ home enfolded it
Hanging on the living room wall
always smiling at me
The artist’s hands painted
it upon a wild hill
I looked at it all my life
From babe until the painting
Was stolen away after
my parents’ death.
It had a constant white bloom.
Curiously I looked
at the flower many times
I am sure it sung me to sleep.
The Yucca is a wild plant
Growing along
The aromatic California
coastal ranges
further into the valley and hills
Tall thin and tenuous
boldly spread throughout
valley canyons.

Yucca calls us to our
nobility of character
Yucca calls us
to a wild uniqueness
Singing if you listen quietly
A hum older than we know.

Just call me HUD…

Once at a pub a guy came up and said, “What do I call you HUD, Hudley Flipside or Holly?” I told him, “… just call me what you want…. ‘Hey you’ will do.”

At the Pub

I struggled with the name Hudley Flipside but now I have a solid feel for it as my good writer’s name that has history and contemporary standing as a dame to be reckoned with. Over 40 years now!

Being a behind the scenes punk was fun. It was a lot of hard work and was often boring. Such as picking up the mail every day, typing endless words written by punkers whose writing was hard to read. When no one else would do the work, I did it.

For all the good punks celebrations going on around here. I want to join in and say a little something about the Hudley Flipside name. My last name was Hudson. Someone called me HUD… maybe X-8… and it caught on. Or maybe it was some one from a band before Flipside Fanzine… who knows?

The point being it became my name as a publisher and co-owner of an underground punk Fanzine. I am kind of put upon to say that I did not think the “punk rock community” would be so uplifting and supportive of itself. There were times in the 90s when I ran away from it and hated it. Not the case now.

I’ve learned to appreciate it and try to flow with the best of it. I am part of the punk community if I like it or not. Anyway, as I am an old dame now, I want to join in with one of the best pictures taken of me as a youngster by Al Flipside. He took a lot of them too. We had thousands of pictures and negatives just all around the place. Pictures of cats, bands and beyond.

https://www.amazon.com/author/hudleyflipside

Picture by Al Flipside 1980

Old post….. Today I was watching as the wind blew a whirlwind on top of a pool of water. It moved around as a tornado or Golden Ratio. A soft movement as it was. I wrote this poem at the end of a Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine CATALOG that I put together. I was most likely 20 or 21 maybe younger or older. A 1980s me. I wonder upon where I was at back then? So goes my journey of Intellectual Property and gathering Flipside merchandise together. It was nice to see it all again. So, here is a place if anyone wants to know some original source of Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine. I will continue to look for more of it from the 1980s.

Who Cares?

Somewhere in a realm

of something true and light,

Is a purple flower!

And all who pass it

Can never find it,

Because somewhere

Between the loud

Music at shows,

And the morning after shows,

The purple flower

(Which is always shining)

Is lost in us.

This is tearing us apart

From what all of us could be,

Friends trying to

Understand each other.

Among all the dragons and desires

And lies

are the purple flowers.

Listing to people’s minds

and seeing their desires

Float through their

Personal orbits.

These mystical blooms

Are trying to reach

Some and help some.

Usually, I find myself

Painfully talking to

illusions of people

Who are disconnected?

From the reality

Of the purple roses and

Of friendship and of

Life.

The silent ear

Has died, no!?

The loud music is now

Replacing it,

Trying to scream it,

the truth,

but falling away

From the truth.

Is revenge or hate or gossip the trip

You take

or is the silent

Purple flower in your grasp!

… Hudley (1980)

Reverberating Punk Turn On


I know I am from the old end of the punk scene and there are many bigger streams and rivers. There are many tributaries of fresh punk streams feeding from this big history of a punk rock that flows into the main punk ocean. It is a vast body global punk rock family or culture. Be it mainstream or kids playing in small clubs or in their garages, or under bridges in Pasadena California. Many old timers like myself prefer it that way too.


S.W. Lauden, “Forbidden Beat, perspective on punk drumming,” had his work published in Flipside Fanzine. Jack Rabid, “The Big Take Over,” is part of this strange behind the scenes punks history thing too. Thanks… there is a lot of old-timer punk hubs mixing with fresh punk hubs going on around here. Glad I engaged in this again.


It is kind of unnerving to get promotion for myself by someone else. As many of you old timer punks know, I was one of those behind-the-scenes punks. It was some strange rule that we could not put our face in the picture.

It has flipped around and now all the good “behind the scenes punks” are getting some acknowledgement for their love of this vast punk rock culture.

If it is the Circle Jerks playing endless shows into eternity, GBH reverberating their 40th Anniversary of the release of City Baby Attacked by Rats, or bands playing all over the place like Love Canal and Agent Orange.

Funny I have tried now and then to ditch this bizarre community, but I get chased down and pulled back in. Now I have surrendered and started to do what I learned back in the day of my “youthful rebellion” which is to create and document. For me it is always the fun of learning while in process.

The other day my husband and I were at a local pool place in the San Fernando Valley. Husband had on an Agent Orange shirt and a guy ahead of us in line made a sly comment. This guy and I started talking high level punk nerd talk. He just happened to be the original guitar player for the Grim, Shawn James. Kind of amazing.

Ya never knows how it goes, punk wise that is.

It is a curse that I have learned to ride with some annoyance of being turned on to life.


Hudley Flipside’s Top 5 Favorite Punk Drummers

https://bigtakeover.com/interviews/HudleyFlipsidesTop5FavoritePunkDrummers?fbclid=IwAR3eXTi3LgiPaRLmZkRKJdqVuecKoVYt9lYOh6rkCAqS6j2WvMywNrKvBJ8


Something’s a foot and I am not talking a rabbit charm!

I am on a journey with Rabbit or Hare. She appeared last night on the kitchen table. A large shadow in her shape.

“Light in the darkness, concealed wisdom, arcane information, intuition and the Goddess” ~ The Element Encyclopedia of Secret Signs and Symbols / Adele Nozedar


Earlier, I remember looking up into the night sky to see the Pleiades above the house. I saw the waxing crescent in place blocking me from seeing the seven sisters. I looked again to see a night star next to the moon. It was not a planet. I checked my sky map. The brilliance with a foggy haze made the night seem altered in some mystical way.

Nanabozho

So close to Easter I am a little amazed Hare came to visit. I cleaned my kitchen table off and put up my happy bunny on the table. I will make this Hare’s place! Honoring the presence of this shape shifting, sometime androgynous, multiple symbolic and multi-geophysical spirit.

Three Hares joined at the ears and running in a circle. terriwindling.com

I am waiting to see what story she is sharing with me. A newness, a new awareness comes forth. This is good news.

A note!!! I had a picture with my kitty and a Easter Lily . I took it down and got rid of the flower . I did not know !

“All parts of the Easter lily plant are poisonous – the petals, the leaves, the stem and even the pollen. Cats that ingest as few as one or two leaves, or even a small amount of pollen while grooming their fur, can suffer severe kidney failure.” I did not know ? Never had an issue but out it goes.


April is Poem Month Hate / Love

By Hudley Flipside April 3/ 2022


I hate festivals

And big shows

I love small clubs

And intimate shows

I hate covid-19.

I hate the divide… big chasm

between punk bands

and their fans

I hate the good security sherpas!

I hate being a face in the crowd

I love being backstage

I love Queen

I hated seeing them at the Long Beach giant coliseum in 1977.

I loved riding in the Santa Monica mountains on my white mustang.

I heard Native American braves screaming

in the wind as we ran our horses through the hills together.

Around the time Elton played at the TROUBADOUR in Hollywood in the early 1970s.

I love my Empty Sky LP I bought from friend Brady at his garage records for sale day.

I hate big Elton John shows

I hate The Angry Samoans

I love a few of their songs

Metal Mike is a wise old fool

I guess he hates me now

I love Bernie Taupin

who is only 3 inches taller than I




Eleusinian and Dionysian Mysteries

http://etherealis.life/philosophy/vision-at-eleusis-greek-mystery-religions/

“There is a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in..” ~Leonard Cohen.

Just wanted to reflect on this! I was talking with a friend about the drink “Kykeon” that is contained in the Kantharos bowl or large cup. Which contained “mainly of water, barley, and naturally occurring substances… wine, goat cheese or even pennyroyal! A psychoactive compounded brew.”

`Eleusis by Carl Kerenyl, 1967

TRANSFERENCE works on Paper by Michael M.P. Griffin at ArtHYPE Gallery.

North Hollywood is a long drive from the San Fernando Valley. Well, now due to traffic as it has become overcrowded. Our politicians don’t seem to regulate building through droughts. The ratio of people, their cars and traffic are not part of any sensible equation either. So, more and more apartments, and more and more people, and traffic.

The endless crazy nightmare known as Los Angeles.

Human Flesh on Planet Earth Acrylic, oil on canvas. 39 x 34 x 2… (sample of painting)

Yet, regardless of this, I was excited to experience the exuberance of Michael M.P. Griffin’s art. I know him as the Cosmic Cowboy and his dog Atlas. We share in the punk rock narrative.

Watercolor, wax, acrylic, oil, varnish on acid free paper enhance Michael’s style. I engaged his art and was happy talking to him.

Karen and Johnathon presented TRANSFERENCE works on Paper by Michael M.P. Griffin at their gallery ArtHYPE which enfolds a nice space to mingle and look at art. Parking was a little difficult, but we just parked near the Iliad Bookshop and walked down to the Studios. A great private art walk.

I hear we get rain on Monday.

Agent Provocateur, Acrylic, oil on canvas. 59 x 82 x 1.5 in, 2018 (sample from painting)

https://www.arthype.net/


artHYPE 5355 Cartwright Ave Suite 116 North Hollywood, Ca 91601


radiance of words

Star Flower

Walking around the block a mile this evening, I thought upon the Russia- Ukraine war. How despondent and sad I become. At the same time a memory comes forward of a time in the early 1990s on Long Island New York. I was visiting with the Poor Clares and the Franciscan Brothers. I corresponded with Sister Philomena for years. She told me once,

“It is best you join the world again. Meet someone, settle down, get married and have children.”

And so, I did.

As I was walking, I looked and saw a star blossom upon the ground I said to myself,

“Star I see you within this flower.”

I thought instantly of the Canticle of Brother Sun and Sister Moon by St. Francis of Assisi.

Once years ago, I awoke to an invitation one morning to join in the reading of this with the Brothers and Sisters. How lovely it felt to be there and feel such radiance of words.

The point of my memory and experience tells me this. That we live in a contrary world of both beauty and heart ache. It is up to us to balance these two extremes the best we can.

“Praised    be    You    my    Lord    through    our    Sister,   

Mother    Earth   

who    sustains    and    governs    us,   

producing    varied    fruits    with    colored    flowers    and    herbs.

Praise    be    You    my    Lord    through    those    who    grant    pardon    for   

love    of    You    and   

bear    sickness    and    trial.”