Poems a different way to communicate to the world. The place of “Who fucking cares” to “Hey I hear what you are saying!”
“…to set forth or offer for attention or consideration…let me pose a question…” /Pen name often used instead Hudley Flipside
The Bumblebee Performs Live on Purple Anarchy Flowers.
Yippee-ki-yay!
How do I balance out the conflicts in life? China and the USA Military now near Alaska confronting each other, our own x- USA president indicted repeatedly. Then there is an answer…
Nature is consistent like the Bumblebee who visits the same time every year. I hold in my dislike of big punk festivals galore and settle into the world around me.
Up front and personal. A pint of beer at the local pub and a delicious bowl of Grits.
Creativity and my spirituality. What is the difference between discernment, insight, instinct and fantasy or the big one active imagination. I use all of these, but the best is active imagination.
“An active imagination when a person engages with the ideas in their imagination, using it as a mental strategy to communicate with the subconscious mind. In Jungian psychology, it is a method for bridging the conscious and unconscious minds.
Instead of being linked to the Jungian process, the word “active imagination” in modern psychology is most frequently used to describe a propensity to have a very creative and present imagination. By examining the most evident manifestations of the unconscious mind—dreams—a person can learn how to execute this method on themselves.
It is thought to be a crucial aid in the process of individuation. It employs creative imagination as an organ for “perceiving outside your mental boxes.” ~ Analytical psychology
And for me nature always knows when I am doing it… lovely.
The song I created for this is personal but it is from my fantasy and our fantasy is a must if we wonder how the world could be destroyed over computer chips.
We endure the minds of weapons and war!
A catchy tune.
Taiwan produces over 60% of the world’s semiconductors and over 90% of the most advanced ones.
Republished by his Great Grand-daughter Holly Duval Cornell / Hudley Flipside.
The Seminary of Praying Mantis Publishing
Click on Image to Order
Wheal Gramper: Known as ‘wheals’ (Cornish for work/working) the instantly recognizable engine houses of the tin and copper mines sit near mine shafts, and there are over 200 of them dotted around the UNESCO Cornish Mining World Heritage Site
I don’t know if I will get to all 11 from my catalog but at least I got to two more. From the original catalog I did in the 1980s. I wanted fans to at least get an organized sense of what we had to offer. I find it delightfully youthful and fanatical as a 65-year-old woman to read these. We were all into the punk scene and loved it madly. I was about 25 when I made this up.
A blast from the past… read with a magnifying glass.
Just having some fun reading over this. It was written back in the 1980s when I felt the need to make the things we were selling understandable in my rude punk way. It was not easy being a female punk around bands, records collectors and all the people who were tough as gram crackers. I am sure pissing off others was not something I tried to do but most likely did. Yet I was the nicer one most times.
I still have the original and it is falling apart so I have it now in a video I made up.
I like going over and keeping my mind fresh on these memories. I am amazed at how many shows I went to. It overwhelms me now as it did then but it was all documented so that makes it nicer still.
I am not a professional actor so reading this was hard to do but I like the cockiness of it.
I was well trained and initiated in the art of one “who caused considerable trouble.”
All Flipside persons’ are… and that is just how it goes.
~ Hudley
Documenting what has already been documented…. as a original source person who was there doing the documenting … as a girl.
Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine # 54 Ten Year Anniversary Issue Facebook Page is obsolete. But here one can see all items available on my WordPress Site available for sell! ⭐️🏵️😸!
Hudley Flipside | Punk Rock Colleague • Historian • Archivist
Maybe a cliché or fuck up, or glitch will be found… my burning tears… always found in an honest Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine project or on a vinyl record played too many times….
My celebration today…
A Hudley Flipside Editorial
Rodney on the ROQ vinyl band compilation. Vol. 1-3
Issue 21
Flipside Fanzine 21
December 1980
Brooke Shields – Introduction
Agent Orange – Bloodstains
Adolescents – Amoeba
Circle Jerks – Wild In The Streets
U.X.A. – Tragedies
Klan – Pushin’ Too Hard
Black Flag – No Values
Rik L Rik – The Outback
Crowd – Right Time
David Microwave – I Don’t Want To Hold You
The Nuns – Wild
Fender Buddies – Furry Friend
Vidiots – Laurie’s Lament
Simpletones – T.V. Love
New York, Surprise! – Is That All There Is?
Issue 28
Flipside Fanzine 28
November 1981
Target 13 – Rodney on the ROQ
Social Distortion – 1945
Shattered Faith – Right Is Right
Black Flag – Rise Above
Minutemen – Search
Redd Kross – Burn Out
CH3 – You Lie
Agent Orange – Mr. Moto
Red Rockers – Dead Heroes
Unit 3 + Venus – B.O.Y.S.
The Stepmothers – Where Is the Dream
Gleaming Spires – Are You Ready For the Sex Girls
The Little Girls – The Earthquake Song
Levi and The Rockats- Ready to Rock
Twisted Roots – Snaked
Geza X – We Need More Power
Issue 35
Flipside Fanzine 35
November 1982
Kent State – Radio Moscow
Ill Repute – Clean Cut American Kid
J.F.A. – Preppy
Channel 3 – Seperate Peace
Catch 22 – Stop The Cycle
Pariah – Up To Us
Red Scare – Streetlife
No Crisis – She’s Into The Scene
Rudi – Crimson
Unit 3 with Venus – Pajama Party
Bangles – Bitchen Summer (Speedway)
Action Now – Try
Signals – Gotta Let Go
Gayle Welch – Day Of Age
Radio Music – Johnny Angel / New Dance
David Hines – Land Of 1,000 Dances
Rodney On The ROQ Volume One, Two and Three.
Rodney On the ROQ Volume One, Two and Three. (1980s)
Flipside Fanzine Inserts.
Looking back on the covers of these three compilations brings a smile to my face. Picture this: “Young girls on the covers” – it was definitely an uncomfortable experience for me! However, I am excited to say that we experienced a wonderful evolution with the arrival of Flipside and Gasatanka Records.
Flipside / Gasatanka Records and just Flipside Records in the vibrant 1980s era, we witnessed a creative surge that was both exciting and transformative. The label, which was eventually formed later, resonated deeply with all of us at Gasatanka and Flipside, capturing the essence of the underground music scene. This connection fostered a sense of community and innovation, allowing us to explore eclectic sounds and foster talent that challenged the norms of the time. Through collaboration and a shared vision, we aimed to elevate music that truly embodied the spirit of artistic freedom and expression that defined that remarkable decade.
After opening the bathroom drawer up on the Q-Tips box was a large beetle bug. I think we both were surprised. I swooped it up to the ground and got my two sleeping kitty girls. I know this is their favorite pass time going after bugs that enter the house. I am guilty because I’m prejudice on how cats think over the needs of this bug.
As the two girls altered to attention and moved towards the bug it was not a long chase. Seems beetle turned around and pinched one of the girls. End of their engagement. Yet over the week the two kitties did keep beetle bug in the bathroom.
Youngest son and I did some cleaning in the bathroom and did not find beetle bug. So, I put a small plastic container in the bathroom in case the bug showed up.
Beetle bug was there one day in the bottom closet and seemed to be waiting for me. Husband and I caught the bug and put the creature outside on the grass near the rosemary bush.
Hungry as if the beetle bug came upon the biggest smorgasbord in town. Embracing a purple anarchy flower, grass and leaves, this beetle bug’s feast began. Beautiful little beetle bug is now free.
worm
While walking around the block. A break from the rain. I saw a worm halfway across the cement walkway. Knowing about other people walking, dogs and wild things, it seemed like this little creation did not have much of a chance of survival. I often find rolled up ones dried from the heat.
I tried to gently hold the little worm that was very long. He was slimy, grey, and untouchable. So, I grabbed a small leaf and got him and softly put him on the earth near a bush.
The worm slowly moved with all its body’s muscles into the darkness of the earth. Only leaving the tip of a tail. I smiled and touched it saying loudly,
“BOOP!”
With boundless rapidity the little worm pulled a worm tail into the safety of the dark grassy earth and was gone.
Hudley Flipside | Punk Rock Colleague • Historian • Archivist
“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!
Colin Abrahall
A bit of history in front of Perkins Palace Pasadena mid 1980s.
The Fulton County Jail (also called the Rice Street Jail) is a jail facility located at 901 Rice Street, in Atlanta under the jurisdiction of Fulton County, Georgia. It was built to hold up to 1,125 prisoners in 1989 but now occasionally tops 3,000.
I think and feel sickness when I consider how such injustice is inflicted on any human being… I stay up at night and pray for these people… criminals maybe and maybe only just days of waiting for justice, human beings all the same. Regardless…the rich pay their bail bond and the rest of us sit in the darkness of confinement.
A gloomy awareness that pursues me when my antenna is up and reflective. It is a hard reality we face in this country like the abuse of drugs and most importantly Fentanyl.
We must ask the right questions. Questions of compassion and insight into the human darkness of our psyche.
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.
As for stories Dad was the best at keeping us kids interested. He had the gift and I guess he learned this from his mother. Who he said left poems on the refrigerator door just for him. Later she had her poems published in the weekly Santa Monica newspaper back in the late 40s and early 1950s.
It was my mom who asked me to never stop writing and always supported my endeavors.
I even fought and wrestled with the Flipside Fanzine crew to get a Poetry Page in Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine. Pooch continued the poetry page after I left.
Flipside Fanzine Issues 57 Fall 1988
I love to write and especially love to write poetry. It is a time when magic happens. As human beings we naturally engage with memories, with the cosmos, and our feelings. Also, with those large uncontrollable metaphors like our professors tell us.
I was going through my notes and work and found this chapbook of poetry. I was surprised to see it was completed on the day September 17, 2018.
I will be talking this weekend. September 17, 2022. Telling stories with others. It feels great too to join in this narrative of speakers. At a cool pub. I can not think of a better place to talk. My youngest son told me this,
“Mom I just feel so comfortable in pubs, I dot know what it is but is just feels so good. I can just relax and have a pint. Listen to music and have fun.”
We could be talking about the pubs in the stories from Lord of The Rings to the history of William Blake’s’ family where the pub was so important in their freedom to speak and sing when the Church of England suppressed their views.
To the characters who linger, who come and go and grow from such a pub. Or simply to those who want to relax and hear a few stories.
~ 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?”
An image came forth while I was looking for something else that rounds out this poem very well. The precise image of what the poem is about. Sitting with my Dad January 1969. I was 11 years old and he is in his fifties.
“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 Lashwas 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 2, 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 the lyrics and the sound. I have a knack for listening to 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 much now. It seems like I still do in my dreams all the time. This punk rock thing is deep in my psyche!
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.
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.
