Category Archives: Embellished non-fiction short stories

Embellished non-fiction short stories by Hudley Flipside aka Holly Cornell hudleyflipside2@yahoo.com

Denis, Pat and Mike, The PUNK HUB MASTERS

THE PUNK HUB MASTERS

My talk today is a comparison essay about three characters from the early punk rock scene.

A Punk Comrade GHOST Special.

Dennis Danell original bass player for the punk rock band Social Distortion, Pat Fear singer and guitar player extraordinaire of the mockery punk band White Flag, and Mike Conley singer of the popular  punk band MIA. I call them the PUNK HUB MASTERS

To move my essay into the realm of where I am looking from, I will be using a concept from my favorite psychologist Carl Gustav Jung. Now for a short Jungian psychology concept…

“The specific role of the archetype in synchronistic phenomena seems to be to serve as the constellating hub of a situation across time,and to be the factor of [inner order]  that gives this distinctive set to the situation.”

Punk rock is a phenomenon which created a situation of order as a constellating hub. A hub is a focal point a center around which other things revolve from which things radiate. I am applying this concept to the origin of punks and to punk rock…

We were nobodies of the underground, sitting on a youthful explosion, that was a rip-tide of good-fella punk friends. The early individual punks found each other through the hubs we created. Back in the late 70s and throughout the 80s, as you know the punk scene created a network of hubs that worked independently from each other, yet depended on each other to sustain the punk scene.

Examples of hubs were Fanzines such as We Got Power or Flipside Fanzine. Also, every punk band had its own hub. Record labels, music recording studios and record store hubs. The major places to make the scene!  Such as Licorice pizza, ZEDS, Tower Records and Moby Disk Records and our own Whittier Record hub Lovells Records.  Without forgetting the college and underground radio program hubs where the innovative music played. These were the greatest of supportive hubs such as Pat Hoed’s Adam Bomb (KXLU), Stella Stray POP and Rodney on the KOQ.

The major hub that brought us all together was an amazing force know as gigs. The garage to Club 88, the Masque to the Whisky A go go and beyond. Where the fans, bands and promoters met!

The focal point here was the paper flyer. These papers were handed out at gigs. Unique band flyers with local and logo band art. Mostly Xerox copies. Xerox machines a revolutionary major hub for the punk scene.  The US Mail and the ring ring telephone press buttons or circular dial extenuated the positive communication hub…remember? Punks spent a great deal of time alone…creating, practicing, and thinking in our own hubs! Coming together via shows, the phone and the mail.

This is where the hub masters such as Denis, Pat, and Mike were found. They shined there. They masterly brought all the HUBS together. These three punks were genius hub masters. Networking was their punk underground gift and they are authentic examples of the early punk rock phenomenon.

Dennis, Pat, and Mike are a part of the Southern California punk scene. They influenced a generation of fans and often are not known or acknowledged for their influence.

They infected my little hub of a bedroom converted into a fanzine office. I often felt overwhelmed working on Flipside and under a big wave of stuff always about ready to crash. These guys showed me the skills of synchronizing things together. Making it seem easy.

Number one Punk Hub Master: Dennis Danell

I first saw Denis when I was living with my sister in Fullerton Orange County. It was 1978. I was working at a local Dry-Cleaning Business as a cashier. Staffing on Flipside Fanzine on the side. He was riding a sting-ray bike sporting a spike haircut. At that time is was unique. We were speaking the same language. I looked similar with my partial shaved hairdo with orange hair color. A year later we met at the scene and become friends.

Dennis taught me loyalty of friendship. I witnessed his expansive heart that made his band stay tight. This is the work of the hub master. Denis still visits me in my dreams. Always polite, honest, and his happy Dizzy self. He had the ability of synchronizing punks together in a charming way. He will not ever be taken for granted. He was at the right place at the right time.

I will read some quotes from Flipside 20 A Social Distortion interview. I feel these short quotes embrace his character.

“Denis: We wanna sound like no one else, We wanna sound like us!!”

“Denis: Tommie’s chilly burgers. I ate one of those and didn’t have to eat for 2 days and I was shitting for 3 weeks!”

Second Hub Master: Pat Fear.

As you know Pat was a force to deal with. He lived in Riverside which was not far from Whittier Ca where Flipside Fanzine was based. Flipside put out a few music vinyl fanzines on Flipside / Gasatanka Records.

Pat was the hub master and helped bring it all other. Was it only a few years ago I argued on Facebook about his hate for Sahara Palin? I would ask him to slow down and redirect his energy. White Flag played a show with the Simpletons around 2008. They played a Saints Song, Demolition Girl. A nice dedication to me. Yet that was Pat… he always tried to make his friends happy. He was humorous in an irritating and funny way. He had the gift of inclusion. He is a constellating hub across time which brings us all here together today.

I will read some quotes by White Flag Tape 6 Flipside Music Fanzine. I will try to read them the way White Flag said them. Pat Fear’s high degree of sarcasm.

This is a White Flag moment.

“What is the purpose of White Flag?”

“To create an illusion of creativity. Because we are too good to be believed.”

“White Flag is a band that’s done everything done before… but better.” “There are two kinds of people in the world, people who are in White Flag and all those who wish they were.”

“White Flag is more than just a band it is a concept of how to live your life.”

“We look like women, talk like men, and play like mother fuckers. (twisted sister quote.)”

Pat wrote a theme song for our video fanzines. I’d like to share a short description from our catalog describing the beginning of Flipside Video Number Two,

“Now if you want to see the good old video monster in action you just got to catch this video. So, if you get it, and put it in your VCR, you might just die. Because the opening Flipside Video Number Two is the band White Flag. Gutsy and pure, Pat Fear will knock your block off while he plays guitar for the opening theme song called “Flipside” with backup singers including some Redd Kross members and one Bangle member …”

Third Hub Master: Mike Conley

Mike originally came from Las Vegas and then stationed his band MIA in the Orange County beach area. He brought punks tighter together. He did this at parties, gigs or at the Flipside House. He could wheel and deal the punk zone. Back stage Mike would make me laugh. He would follow me around saying,

“Want a cocktail, Hudley,” while rolling his eyes round and around. Just like Groucho Marx.

In 2008 when editing my memoirs about the punk scene I came across some Mike comments in a Flipside Fanzine Interview with his band. Unbelievably I received a call at that moment from Nike Adams, a member of MIA, telling me of Mike’s demise.   A week later at his funeral his oldest daughter told us a short story.

She said that when they were traveling in his car her dad always had the music on too loud. She told him he could use head phones like everyone else. He never did. That’s punk.

I will now read another short quote from my Punk@lullby Journal Number Four.

From the Pogo to the Slam Pit

Recently, at a benefit show for the passing of Mike Conley of M.I.A., a slam pit broke out at the Detroit bar in Costa Mesa. After about 19 years my natural feelings of irritation and perspiration filled with moisture above my brow. In the past, the slam pit became a testosterone-filled ring of jock bodies circling round and round before the stage. Bouncers and bands tried to control it.  They could not stop this wildfire. I grew to hate it. Yet, the recent show again proved me wrong. There were some women but mostly men dancing around having a great time. Yes, their firm bodies now had become a little soft around the edges, as one middle-aged guy stopped and said to me, as if Mike Conley for one moment materialized,

“…enjoy this moment, it is the best time of your life!”

This guy was beaming with youthful glee.

Flipside produced one of MIA’s albums entitled After the Fact. I will read lyrics from a song that Mike wrote. A Quote from the Song, Whisper in the Wind,

“In my eyes you’ll see a thousand memories He said stare into my soul All of me you shall know Live your life full, live your life free, Tomorrow’s but a vision, Yesterday is a dream…”

Mike had the quality of inner order. A quality of depth and control that was not always easy to access.

This concludes my essay on three punk rockers of the early Southern California Punk Scene. The Denis, Pat and Mike I knew were extraordinary. They were our friends!

They are the Punk Hub Masters!


(I presented this at Pat Fear and Other Stories~ December 3, 2017 )


For more punk rock reading pleasure you can buy my DIY Punk@lullaby Journals One through Four at the link below. 

https://hudleyflipside.com/my-shop-get-my-weird-stuff-here/

 

 

 

 

PUNK@LULLBY DIY Journals one-four.


My Punk@lullaby Journal One

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8 1/2 by 5 1/2 Booklet. Beginning Journal of a punk rock chick from the San Fernando Valley who became a co-editor and publisher of the underground punk Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine 1979 to 1989.


My Punk@lullaby Journal Two   $6.00

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8 1/2 by 5 1/2 Booklet. The continuing memories of the early punk scene as well as Hudley’s life and adventures. The next journal three will be out in Mid-April 2017.


My Punk@lullaby Journal Three  $6.00

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8 1/2 by 5 1/2 Booklet. The continuing memories of the early punk scene as well as Hudley’s life and adventures. Drugs and foolish love Issue. More to come out…


My Punk@lullby Journal Four

$6.00
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8 1/2 by 5 1/2 Booklet. The continuing memories of the early punk scene as well as Hudley’s life and adventures. The tape recorder Issue. I dedicate this issue to the one and only tape recorder we used at Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine. On the cover is one of my favorite pics of the early punk scene with Subhumans (Canadian Band) and Samoans. Greg Turner, Metal Mike, Wimpy, Hud, Gary and Jim. I am holding Flipside’s tape recorder. Picture by Al Flipside.

The last journal


penny candies

I sometimes miss the wildness of the street. Every street corner there were many people hanging out. Most were friendly and handing out flowers. Most eventually grew up and went on with there lives. 


1968–69: Manson Family crimes Main article: Manson Family

In the late 1960s, Manson attracted a quasi-communal cult based in California that was later dubbed the “Manson Family”. The group gained national notoriety after the murder of actress Sharon Tate plus four others in her home on August 9, 1969,[15] and LaBianca murders the next day. The Tate–LaBianca Murders were executed by Tex Watson and three other members of the Family, acting under the specific instructions of Manson.[16][17] Family members were also responsible for a number of other assaults, thefts, crimes, and the attempted assassination of United States President Gerald Ford in Sacramento.[18] 1971–present: third imprisonment


rowing up in the San Fernando Valley during the 1960s was wild. All the corner streets were filled with hitchhiking youths. Carrying incense and their innocence. Topanga Canyon was a way to the beach. They moved towards the Pacific Coast Highway.

As a kid I would walk down to Gary’s Market on the corner of Dumetz and Topanga Canyon. My friends and I bought penny candies. We also got bakery goods. We would sit and eat. We sugar gazed at the craziness.

Now I often take a drive to Box Canyon. That place where the Manson Family once lived. I love writing about this place and that time. It seems to be a place that has not been touched by time. It still feels and smells like the late 60s and early 70s.

As kids we walked or rode our bikes there. Not as many cars made the ride or walk easy. There were trees to climb and plenty of friends. We felt safe. Gone for hours at a time! Funny my parents never seemed to worry about us.

It was not until after the Manson trial that I learned to fear the wild places of my youth. Yet smoking pot would always highlight this paranoia.

Charles Manson is dead or is dying. The creepy crawl is not over though. Today I will take a drive-up and down Box Canyon. With freedom there is always danger lurking about. Those corner streets filled with hippies were not so innocent as I thought they were. As I once was. Maybe darkness gazed at us, unaware to us, back then as we ate our penny candies.


 

 

You risk tears

You risk tears if you let yourself be tamed.

~ Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince

Dad was not an easy person to deal with. I was told so by many a nurse. One nurse complained that we brought him a man with the DTs. We were yelled at and dad was sedated. 


Uncle Royal, Mom, Dad with the cigarette and his sister Louise. 1942


This may not be the kind of story you want to be reading on Veterans day. Yet it is the truth. I don’t like war or the war machine or military hackers, economic hit men, or bombs of any kind! I know that the history of humanity is a bloody one. I often wonder, astronomically, what kind of stellar rays the earth projects out into our solar system? Power, peace, sex, and equality: rich, poor, inclusive, or exclusive, are all qualities of our dualistic life. Love abides!  Then there are the simple stories of simple people and their alcoholic purple heart WWII veteran dads.  This is one that is funny as well as disheartening.

“The desert is a symbol, Turning it green is about much more than agriculture.” Chapter 13, pg. 129, Confessions of an Economic Hit Man -John Perkins

Mom was already signed up for Kaiser Permanente. Dad was with the VA. Seemed all was taken care of as they moved into their twilight years. As we age our bodies start to break down and when mom and dad hit their 90s it was unavoidable.  Dad stopped watering the garden and brushing the pool. In his 80s he still golfed and did walk the full course. Amazing you say? Well he also powered down lots of booze too? He told many a good story drunk as well. Then there was always the meanness of his personality. The pendulum swung. It swung back and forth. They never knew but I knew, like the sun rising and setting, I would have to unfortunately deal with his nastiness. We all endured his abuse in my family.

We all speculated on the facts that dad learned or acquired this behavior because of his service in the military as a Captain pilot of the Army Air Force during WWII. Dad’s B-52 was shot down the same day as Saint Exupery plane, July 31, 1944. {Exupery authored the book The Little Prince.} Exupery’s mysteriously disappeared but dad survived off the island of New Guinea with a broken back.

As a child we celebrated this day with a cake. My mom was very creative and designed a little B-25 plane crashed on the Island of New Guinea. I helped make up the blue dye frosting for the cake one year. So, we justified his alcoholism. That is what I learned.

Years later when dad started to show signs of dementia I advised mom to sign him up with Kaiser Permanente. A nice representative went to their house and got dad all taken care of. It was not much longer that Kaiser stepped in to help him. He was sick. Dad’s dementia got worse. We thought it was Alzheimer’s. His doctor told us he fried his brain drinking to much booze. I was not surprised but mom was. The whole family except for me were in denial about this.

Now for the funny part of the story.  My siblings were going to change the world and my dad too. Sister and one of the brothers told me this,

“Kaiser is not doing the best for dad. It is a terrible place and we need to get him better help!”

This was only a month after mother’s death. Kaiser helped her transition and gracefully so. What they told me angered me because I knew that Kaiser helped both of our parents. I was there to witness it at the time.  Once the big boy and sister siblings kicked in I was pushed aside for their brilliance. Most of them lived out-of-town and only came to visit a few times a year. This is how you are treated when you are the youngest in my family. I am the only one to still live where I grew up!

Now for another funny part of the story.

One of the second oldest brothers glorified the VA. There were two hospitals near dad. The VA hospital near Westwood and the one out in Northridge. Neither wanted to help. Yet there was a retirement adult care facility out in Northridge. This is where brother with glory glory told me how wonderful this VA hospital was. Brother spoke the words of the angels. He described the cleanliness of the place. The courtesies and how St. Peter of the golden gate stood to greet him.

th (30)

I went there with my nearest brother sibling. We interviewed with the adult day care coordinator. As I walked into the facility I was impressed. The live sound of a grand piano, the ruffle of a newspaper and friendly smiles as I walked by were warmly inviting. In her office the coordinator asked the questions. She wanted to know about my dad. My sibling was not honest. I tried to explain to this lady who my dad really was and how he behaved. I knew that dad was not the right person for this lovely holy holy VA place. I also advised my siblings the mistake they were making. Adjoined to this lovely adult day care was a medical facility. I reflected to myself that would be the best place for dad.

Siblings took dad there. He only lasted 15 minutes and was kicked out. He argued with the coordinator and pushed her.

“Having foresight is a terrible thing when nobody’s listening !!”

The VA was not there for my dad in his most vulnerable stage of his life. They could not handle his illness. Alcoholism and meanness is unacceptable! Back to Kaiser they went with their tail between their legs!! Kaiser treated dad with respect and showed him difficult dignity.

I never received a we are sorry or an apology for their failed effort. Holy holy VA Hospital symbolically burned to the ground and was never mentioned again.  I know that oldest brother always expected me to take over and take care of dad. I declined the offer. Oldest brother treated me like dirt too. With a husband and two kids to care for. I would have gone insane taking care of my dad too. He was very abusive.

I remember before his demise, dad did turn down home health aides because they were ugly or too fat. They were not up to his standards of a dame. I suggested that they put him in a nursing facility.  He would be happy there. A good facility would keep him sedated.

“NO,” they said.

We did the best we could for dad. I know we all loved him. One of my siblings had nowhere to live, had no family to care for or property or job. He did not have a car, nor did he drive. He moved in with dad at the family home and became a saint. Luckily, I drove and was there if they needed a drive. And so, the story goes…

Under his care dad ran away a couple of times. One time he hitched a ride to the coast over 30 miles away. He had no memory of us anymore. The police picked him up at a bar off the Pacific Coast Hwy. He smelled the drenched smell of hard alcohol! He was fresh with the lady police officer who was polite to him… regardless!


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Follow Me

The CambionNimue herself and Merlin all are “denizens of another reality.” How can we humans begin to understand them. Why do we make them evil? Instead, I will enjoy their stories and not judge them. Life is just that, a mystery… like the denizens.

Walking in the early morning is a new part of my routine. I usually walk in the evening because I love capturing the night sky. Today, I had a talk with a local squirrel! The olive tree in front of my house was the perfect place for an official squirrel greeting, First, squirrel dashed in front of me. Then half up the olive tree turned round looking straight into my eyes. The squirrel’s eyes are a dark black brown with a reflective glimmering. A squirrel moves like a humming bird…deliberate movement, fast then still and focused. The squirrel moving away, then came back to look closely into my eyes again! About three feet between us was the distance we shared. This lasted about ten minutes.

I mumbled conversation as the squirrel responded with a deep vibrating sound from within its flexible body, while showing off its gorgeous tail! I would like to think; I am still a bit on the wild side too. I have let myself become too damn domesticated over the years. It is nice to know that I have not lost my touch with nature! This magic, also taught by Merlin the Magician, helps me to appreciate my little wild connection. I feel that nature still knows my name, as it did when I was young!

Mana

th (17)

“We know that something unknown, alien, does come our way, just as we know that we do not ourselves make a dream or an inspiration, but that is somehow arises of its own accord. What does happen to us in this manner can be said to emanate from mana, from a daimon, a god, or the unconscious…”

Pg 336 Par 2 Memories, dreams, reflections ~ C.G. Jung

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The yard is the shape of a crescent moon facing west. The cypress trees line the crescent shape that enhances the progression of the equinox in the night sky. Last night walking out into the darkness looking up,

“Hello Jupiter.”

Wings like a moth, or a big barn owl, or a giant bird swam through the darkness towards the south. Very high in the dark sky. A very large bird just west of Jupiter. A foreign site next to the consistency of the progression. All captured within the eyes of this little backyard. The ascending full moon was low on the horizon yet the light-numinosity surrounded the large creature.

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A bottle named Delilah

th (4)

Online image of happy and sad face….

A bar in the living room and a bar in his beauty salon. Drinks at the Chinese restaurant on Ventura Blvd. Lights that lit up the bar at Christmas time reflecting off gifts simmering gold, green and tall bottles of colorful liquid. Tall cupboards that he reached for, then pouring that rich golden juice.

Named at a bar from a book while she was in labor. Drives out with beers at the side. Music and laughter, screams and yelling while holding a hand and butter on bread.

Two faces one happy and one sad over their red brick fireplace. He always reached for that bottle…named Delilah. Jazz playing on the radio.

I thought those bars would last forever, I was happily fooled. They are now gone forever only stinging my memory now!!

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/brilliant-disguise/

Elderberry wine

th (4)

Once while working as a Home Heath Aide on the East coast I did a nice thing for a wise old lady. She had grace, experience and savvy. Her home was a grand home that had been in her family for generations. In my mind she seemed like Scarlett O’Hara. Now in a wheel chair most of the time she told me stores that I will not share here.  She survived her family and had none to tend to her needs. Her memories were as clear and vivid as her mind, well her past memories not her present ones as much. One story I will l highlight is how her father made Elderberry wine. They kept the home made wine in their basement.

Her home had a spiral staircase, beautiful chandeliers and ghosts. I focused on the living room and kitchen because this was all the house that was in use. We were both alone in Rochester New York.

I decided to visit her on Christmas Eve… yes I visited the wise old lady. I loved her story so much that I gave her a small gift of Elderberry wine. We shared a shot of the wine and that was all! I hope I never forget her smile. I put the wine up in a closet far from her knowing reach.

The Visiting Nurses Association told me another aide found the wine and accused me of being an alcoholic. They did not appreciate the truth I told them in my defense. I guess I stepped my bounds, yet I know this wise old lady and her ghostly dad… had a good ole’ family time that Christmas Eve.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/nice-is-as-nice-does/

cock-horses

Ride a cock horse to Banbury Cross. To see a fine lady upon a white horse, With rings on her fingers, And bells on her toes. She shall have music, Wherever she goes. ~ Nursery rhyme

Watching “That ’70s Show” with the teenage son last night took me back when I was actually a teenager at that time. Some of the show is superficially realistic. There were the pot smoking circles of deep reflection…ha ha. The same record (vinyl) playing over and over again. Sex was a big deal as well as a girlfriend or boyfriend. The same old thing…my kids have a different experience.
It got me thinking about the time when my dad was asked over to my boyfriend’s house. I was 15 and went missing. I was gone for two days and no one knew where I was. Even my brother Greg looked out over the valley concerned that I was adulated.
Mike’s dad said to my dad, “So your daughter and my son are having relations.”
My dad gave a strange look, “You mean they are copulating?”
Of course Mike’s dad laughed and said “Something like that…”
Mike and I were in the room and I was a bit scared. They had found us hiding in the attic above Mike’s parent’s house. Mike had a nice little set up, like a ’70s van with food, beer and pot. We had two days of copulating and I even read a book. Well that was the real version of the “That ’70s Show!”
This takes me to the word my dad used, copulating. Tonight Venus will merge with Jupiter in the night sky. It will not be a Venus Observa!

“Technical term for the male-superior sexual position, which Adam tried and failed to impose on Lilith, and which the Catholic church designated the only legal position for marital intercourse, since it afforded the least pleasure to the wife. Patriarchal societies generally opposed such female-superior sexual postilions as those favored by the worshiper of Shiva and Hecate, and by medieval witches who, as the nursery rhyme says, rode on top of their “cock-horses.” ~ Pg. 1044 Barbara G. Walker*

Tonight Venus is doing her magic. Lilith will be proud and a few happy men!! As Jupiter and Venus merge tonight guess who will be on top??

jup* The Woman’s Encyclopedia of Myths and Secrets

All about a song…a continuity …one song to-the next..

Pythia

Like a new born baby it just happens ev’ry day ~ Rolling Stones

One song to the next is still a motivation in my life. Synchronizing past, present and future dreams. Joan asked me today If I was at the mount of Delhi what question would I ask of her the Pythias. My mind went blank or black.

I heard Paint It Black by the Avengers years ago live in a club to the frequency of bouncing youths. A tight crowd of underground nobodies who were wild and unassuming. The Avengers were fun, intense and no lines drawn between bands and fans. The first time I saw this band play this song Spaz Attack was vibrating on the ground and I was drooling beer while watching him, because my belly was about to pop.  It was all new..kinda like black…unknown and exciting.

That is this song to me…

“…but nothing impossible, that we meet here: the revelation of something that is dark in comparison with an idea, but ideal in comparison with blind feeling- the revelation of something still unopened, like a bud…” – Kore PG. 105. Essays On a Science of Mythology, C. g. Jung and C. Kerenyi