The Desperation of Incarceration

Paul Newman from Film Cool Hand Luke~ June 15, 1967

Captain: What we’ve got here is failure to communicate. Some men, you just can’t reach. So you get what we had here last week — which is the way he wants it. Well, he gets it.

October at the supermarket is another routine that brings to our home good cooking, comfort, and kitty treats.

Like most Tuesdays I hit my local Ralph’s for round sushi bowls, a slice of cheesecake and did I mention the kitty treats.

Something was off this morning. As I grabbed my old sturdy cotton Trader Joe’s bags, I saw a guy standing at the curve before the entrance to the market. He was not moving and standing there like a Praying Mantis on a rosemary branch.

I was near him now. Looking around I saw no cars crossing. I walked quietly past him.

As I grabbed my shopping cart, I looked up to see he was still there. Slightly bent to the right but focused forward.

I thought to myself,

“Maybe he thinks he is invisible or maybe he is waiting for someone?”

He was all alone by himself.

I then went into the market. As I walked down a few grocery lanes he slowly passed me by. He walked slowly without a cart. One time he stood in front of me. Still standing with a slight bend to the right side. I said,

“Go ahead.”

He replied while looking down with the sweetest young voice,

“No please you go ahead.”

He had a t-shirt on with shorts and sported tattoos. I walked by him and as I passed a strange familiar desperate darkness was visible to me as I walked through it. I wanted to cry. I know that desperate feeling.

I walked forward and turned down the lane towards the front of the market. Then I saw some black boots and gazed upwards to see a guard standing about 6 feet 5 inches tall in front of me.

He was standing there transfixed on the lane ahead of me. His gun in holster.

I heard the movement of his leather belt and shoes as he walked. In slow motion. Moving as the other strange man moved.

I then realized he was following this man through the store as music danced from the PA and people walked around unaware.

It was as if I was watching two animals in nature. One the predator and one the victim.

I felt a wave of possible assault that I had avoided.

 At the deli I thought to myself,

“Something does not feel right?”

Before this I did notice a strange orange bus van in front of the market to my sideways glance before entering the market.

After ordering some food. The darkness lifted and both men were gone. As I went outside the orange bus van was gone as well.

I was witness to something dark and frightening as well as desperate. As what could have happened but did not. A desperation of incarceration.

Maybe an unsuccessful escape? A prison guard targeting a bird like a cat would. I felt deep grief for this young man. As I drove safely home, I thought upon how the young man bent to the right side.

His quietness and subtle sweet voice touched me. I was stuck with grief again. I reflected on the film Cool Hand Luke.


The Plastic Hummingbird

“Sabrina fair,

Listen where thou art sitting

Under the glassy, cool, translucent wave,

In twisted braids of lilies knitting

The loose train of thy amber-dropping hair;

Listen for dear honour’s sake,

Goddess of the silver lake,

Listen and save.”

~ Sabrina Fair (subtitled “A Woman of the World”) is a romantic comedy written by Samuel A. Taylor



I recently purchased a wind chime. Well, it is spiral plastic flowers and hummingbirds that hang on the larger arbor of a hanging tubular burgundy flower bush highlighting our back French doors. They are also solar lights at night that are magical to look at. The cats like to look at it and so do I.

I went for a short cool down swim close to the morning, I looked up to see the plastic colorful hummingbirds and flowers spiraling around in the soft cool breeze. It was going to be a hot day. The Plastic Hummingbird sounded like the nice name of a book.

I started to ponder what the book would be about. The many places we have to be. In nature listening. On the computer writing. Looking into a realm of social media or in our mind’s imagination and then the world of our feelings. We have many places to be or focus our attention.

The world of technology is rather new, but we have long lived in the world of architecture, science, and places of another human’s imagination. Films, books, and music are blending all of these realms.

There is also the intuitive realm or magic, faith, and synchronicity.


Whiskey Girl July 2022

The computer being a kind of oracle. Build by codes among codes among coding… computer programming. A vast new realm of communication on all levels of consciousness by conscious humans or the ‘lack-off.’

Later I went for another quick swim to cool off and once out of the pool sitting on my chair under the cool harbor next to my plastic hummingbird, I hear the sound of a real hummingbird. Under the vining vines of tubular flowers and bush, I see hummingbird right before my gaze. Weaving a little back and forth beating wings of 10-15 times per second. I look at the plastic hummingbird and then the living one and realize the contrary nature of life, plastic, and nature. Quickly grasping those things made and invented by humankind and those made purely by nature.

I flash back to a 1954 film entitled Sabrina. Humphrey Bogart as Linus Larrabee is just discovering something called “plastics” in the film. SO much money, collaborating, thinking and creativity yet no sense of how what they created will affect the environment.

Oh, dear me back to the love story.

“Linus Larrabee: Listen, I work in the real world with real responsibilities.

Sabrina: I know you work in the real world and you’re very good at it. But that’s work. Where do you live, Linus?”

Sabrina ~1995


Hiawatha and Dionysus

Thyrsus detail of Bacchus and Ariadne by Angelica Kauffmann (1741-1807)

As seeing the history of our earth and the water of the earth.

As seeing nature and the growing things and vines and the wildness of this planet.

I think upon the goodness and wisdom of Hiawatha and Dionysus.

Both connected to the earth are the best ones to learn from.

As we see politically, globally, and as human beings we need to listen to them now more than ever.

They teach me to listen to nature, that magic is a gift, and our friends are closer than we realize.

The Dionysian Thyrsus is a powerful compelling campaign addressing the wonder of life and the earth and harmony. It is all within us and outside of us.

Hiawatha speaks to the wind and in our souls of the equality of all things from minerals in rocks and out towards the star beings.

Balance and harmony, creativity and weaving our stories, hope and timeless ambition to run with the windiness of our nature.

Lady bugs to bear, mountain lions to the praying mantis.

Trees and the rivers, rain, and the thunder.

Love making to eating and dancing.

I call upon Hiawatha and Dionysus

I often believe you two are the same

Friends of humanity and the earth.


Hiawatha’s departure: Hiawatha sails Westward into the sunset



Photographic Print of Hiawatha/Longfellow. Hiawatha’s departure: Hiawatha sails Westward into the sunset © Mary Evans Picture Library Media ID 580113

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.

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




Sweet Maid

“Most people were in bands, if not they did magazines, records, owned stores did artwork etc… it was a scene that begged to be contributed to, and ripe with contributors… X-8 and Tory were in Low Budget, who made their Hollywood debut playing over the Dils at the Whisky, Larry Lash was in a weird Quick sort of band, Pooch was in a progressive (!) band, and I was their friend, couldn’t play anything, but still wanted to be involved [Al Flipside].”

Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine Issue #1 August 28, 1977.
Cover of my electric punk guitar.

I am not a musician. Sure, as a kid I played my parents old player piano. I could hear a song and I then played it on that old lovely musical hardwood black upright piano. My mom got me an acoustic guitar when I turned 16. Along with it was a record to learn chords. I did not follow it through.

I appreciate lyrics and the sound. I have a knack for hearing the song in a way that is so satisfying to me and as my life went on, I found others like myself. Journalists, fanzine writers and scenesters who supported a growing musical world. I will leave the real musicians and their creative genius to themselves. I sure love to hear and feel their songs though.


My dream last night took me to a multilevel club. It had a front door and back door, it had a bar and an outdoor patio. It was very easy to access. I had booked a one-day event to perform. I had my old guitar with me at all times. A guitar a band member gave me, and we had cut out the “Quaker Maid” milk symbol from a large ‘sheet metal sign’ to place on the front of my guitar.

Why I pulled that old guitar I had from the 80s into my dream seems strange to me. I also had my old fender amp.

There was a small stage in the bar where I practiced. Realizing I did not have a clue what I was doing. Yet when I touched my sweet maid, it made a loud punk sound. I thought this to myself while dreaming,

“I am going to go on stage here and play for my friends. Not having a clue what I am doing, I will just improvise … like I always do,”

The first person who greeted me at the door was Shawn Stern. He was drinking a beer and seemed very happy. Then as I walked through the club. The club was peppered with many characters and I thought to myself,

“I will play a chord from my sweet maid and then read something from an editorial from an old issue of Flipside. Maybe this can be a spoken word event with improvised guitar sounds?”


Hudley, Glen E. Friedman, Shawn Stern, Lee Ving. Taken from Let Them Know 2008; The Story of Youth Brigade and BYO Records. /Stern Brothers.

Outside on the patio I sat with a couple of gals who were talking about another show. I was cool with that and then walked in Cliff Roman.

“The guys at that show were wearing TUXEDOS.”

He had a upside down smile on his face when I smiled at him as I was holding my sweet maid. Cliff was wearing all black with a big oomphy black sweater.

I realized I was at a club without my mask on. It felt so good to be out and about again. No fear and happy to be hanging out at a club again with others.

Then I awoke. I don’t go out to events now. It seems like I still do in my dreams


Time movement

This is my winter solstice poem for 2021


Water drop in time. by Hudley Flipside 2021

There is something

Real and magical

Between a breeze

And the top of a

Pool of water

An in between language

A pattern of symbols

Mandalas, ancient texts

It gets talking so fast

I don’t understand it all.

Then Silence as is now.

I wait

Beginning again

A rich diplomatic dialogue

Transcendence

Old time ancient rhymes.

Spirit moved across the face of the waters still…

How it moves upon the face of my waters

This ancient

Rogue tongue….

Breathe it in …

A constant story

For us all

rebuilding

renewing

Inspiring life to unfold …

An in-between place

I wait for the elves …

The Fay move …

stretch and turn.

– Hudley

Ophiuchus

Chiron is a comet, planetoid, or asteroid which is the ruling planet of the zodiac sign Ophiuchus. It is found orbiting between Saturn and Uranus, but its orbit is quite erratic nature.

Asclepius Trained by Chiron

Rod of Asclepius, staff of Asclepius

The Serpent – entwined Rod (One)

Ophiuchus (November 30 – December 18th) 13hth constellation. Even today, the staff of Asclepius – the symbol of the world health organization pays tribute to the constellation Ophiuchus the Serpent Bearer.

In Mythology:

Ophiuchus was associated with Asclepius, the son of the God Apollo. He became a great healer – in part because of an encounter with a snake one day, he saw one snake and resurrected another laying some herbs on it. Zeus names him the serpent bearer.

Chiron:

As she (Koronis (coronis)) was being consumed on her funeral pyre, he (Apollon) snatched her baby (Asklepios, Asclepius) from the fire and took him to the Kentaros. Kheiron (Centaur Chiron) who was raised by him, taught him medicine, and hunting.

Sweet note: Some mistake the Caduceus two snakes and wings above with the one snake on the Rod. It is different. The Caduceus is associated with Mercury and Hermes Trismegistus.

Lyrics

There’s great danger (danger)
For the loneliest ranger in town
No silver bullets (bullets)
Tonto’s split the scene

Next week will solve your problems
But now, fish fingers all in a line
The milk bottles stand empty
Stay glued to your TV set (TV)

There’s great danger (danger)
At hand most caped crusader of all
No cloak of justice (justice)
Robin’s quit the scene

Next week will solve your problems
But now, fish fingers all in a line
The milk bottles stand empty
Stay glued to your TV set (TV)

Stay glued to your TV set
(TV) Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
(TV) Stay glued to your TV set
(TV) Oh, why, don’t ya, don’t ya, don’t ya?
(TV) Stay glued to your TV set (TV)
(TV) Stay glued to your TV set
(TV) Oh, why, don’t ya, don’t ya, don’t ya?
(TV) Stay glued to that and your TV set (TV)

Like ground up coffee grounds

Today I was looking at all the bullies in my life.

On Facebook I noticed a friend put up a thought. When she was young, she thought she was ugly. Now much older she realizes how lovely she really was. I am glad she found this out about herself.

I hang fabric up to cover half of my windows. I do this to enjoy the shadow and light on the fabric. When the window is open the fabric moves and I often see the texture and fun pattern within the fabric. As one lives a long life one can begin to see shadows, light, texture, and the pattern of one’s life. This is a wonderful ability I have acquired in my life. My insight is reflection the ability to see my life as a pattern with texture and light and shadows.

Elementary school there were two major bullies. Both I followed through what we called Jr. High and then High School. Lisa and Lori were the worst of the worst. They were pretty, popular, and mean to all those who were not part of their click, I always let their image of me influence my self-worth.

Now I know that it was not about me but about them. I do not believe them anymore.

Also, when I had my white mustang Sony, I found instead of everyone enjoying my bliss and best friend. Jealousy took hold and nasty gossip formed. The boy next door started the lies, and this gossip ran its course throughout Jr. High and High School. I cannot even imagine how pungently immoral the gossip was. The collective shadow of peers is a grandiose thing to have to deal with.


Now as a crone an older woman I can look back with a type of disconnection. I like myself now more than I ever have. These new positive feeling shine out and my libido is renewed with hope and creativity. Those old ways burn down and fly away into the underworld of no more.

Like ground up coffee grounds. Fragrant, recyclable and transformed. Soul soil for new possibilities.

Bob and Zachery, Grease lightning and the Green Sweater.

The Green Sweater

Living on the east coast in Rochester New York as a Home Health Aide was challenging work. I went into strange homes with new family customs that I had to learn and respect. I experienced diversity and listened to the stories of mostly older patients.

The family owned a Chinese restaurant. During the afternoon while the family was working, I took care of the matriarch. A mother who had a stroke. I did all I could to make her life as comfortable as I was trained to do. I collaborated with the nurses and physical therapist that visited once a week.

This lady was a rock on what she wanted. She would often hit me. I would let her know that was not appropriate. We would battle it out sometimes. Yet overall, I knew she liked me. I enjoyed her company too.

Her sons brought me a meal from their restaurant for lunch every day. I love Chinese food, so it was an incredibly special treat. Sweet and Sour Pork, lots of greens and noodles.

I was not use to the freezing weather and snow. Living on the west coast my whole life I found driving on black ice especially scary while driving to the home of this family who lived out in the country.

As the patient got better, she no longer needed my service. The day I left this strong woman gave me a gift. She would not take no for an answer and gave me a lovely Asian green sweater with lovely buttons. They were round and covered with a type of enamel with little designs.

I loved it and so when I traveled back home to California it was one of my prized possessions.

I ended up in Santa Cruz California. One night while I went out with my man, I had one too many Grease lightnings. The bartenders at the Poet and Patriate Pub were supplying us with many a pint. Bob and Zachery combined Amestein Lager with Guinness. We coined it “Grease lightning” because once served you had to power it down.

A big biker dude came up to my man and asked,

“Hey John why do you two power down your brews?”

John just smiled and then we walked over to play some darts.

On one of our many adventures playing darts with the local community of poets and patriots, or a few pirates, I got suckered into a conversation with an incredibly sad lady. She was cold on St Paddy’s Day and was not wearing green. I was wearing my green sweater, with green shirt and green shoes. I had plenty of green on. So, I said she could wear it a little while to warm up. The night went on and as I left to the lady’s room when I came back, she was gone and so was my lovely green sweater. I even told her my green sweater story story.

As we left that night to walk home, I heard one last song playing from the pub. One of my favorite Irish tunes. So, I danced the jig in the parking lot next to the pub. Then out of nowhere I swear a large Leprechaun danced awhile with me. We laughed and danced.

Around 1991 John and I sure did have some good nights at that local Pub in Santa Cruz. Wherever the green sweater is I hope whom ever has it is enjoying it’s beauty and warmth.