Category Archives: “In the beginning there was a void except for the written word.” The Avengers (Band)

Published works on the internet by Hudley Flipside anything else the sources will be quoted.

Small books…

 

As a long time do it yourself and or self-publisher it is always about the process of doing things myself. It is not always perfect. I learn as I go. I am much better at taking criticism now than I was when I was in my twenties. My worst critique is my own mind. My goal as a self-publisher is to forget about thinking that some other publisher is going to do it for me. Make it easier for me. I sometimes lull into that trap. My goal is to be able to continue to do it my way. I would like to eventually print up, made from recyclable material,  small books. Hand-held books. Some hand-held hard cover books some not. I love small books. They are interesting to me.

“A chapbook is a type of popular literature printed in early modern Europe. Produced cheaply, chapbooks were commonly small, paper-covered booklets, usually printed on a single sheet folded into books of 8, 12, 16 and 24 pages. They were often illustrated with crude woodcuts, which sometimes bore no relation to the text. When illustrations were included in chapbooks, they were considered popular prints.

“The tradition of chapbooks arose in the 16th century, as soon as printed books became affordable, and rose to its height during the 17th and 18th centuries. Many different kinds of ephemera and popular or folk literature were published as chapbooks, such as almanacs, children’s literature, folk tales, ballads, nursery rhymes, pamphlets, poetry, and political and religious tracts. The term “chapbook” for this type of literature was coined in the 19th century. The corresponding French and German terms are bibliothèque bleue (blue book) and Volksbuch, respectively. In Spain they were known as pliegos de cordel.[1][2][3]The term “chapbook” is also in use for present-day publications, commonly short, inexpensive booklets.[4]”


 

 

July moves into August

July moves into August. A time of justice and heat, a time of foresight and deep. For me it is about news… some bad and some good news. I have known this time of the year to be delirious dark and forbidden. Today it has reached an illuminating place of thanksgiving.

Between our psyche and the cosmos is magic. Magic moves between our hidden unconscious coming forth from our dreams. Yes, that Magic coming with psychic foresight of knowing. Real causality or synchronicity does not matter to me. Natural magic! I live all combinations.

Yesterday we went to Naval Air Station Point Mugu. Driving to Ventura from the San Fernando Valley can be harsh on a Sunday. We found a little farming street to follow down to Point Mugu. It romances the beautiful Pacific Ocean. Which is why we were there.

My dad was a WWII Veteran. As kids we enjoyed fishing on the pier that is located on this naval base.

Husband and I sat in our car for sometime. Wondering if we could approach and visit the pier for old memories. We did. A tight solider asked for husband’s driving-license. As the solider was taking the license from husband, I explained my family story. Before you could think we were quickly told to make a U-turn. No good byes or safe journeys.

Point Mugu has since merged with nearby Naval Construction Battalion Center Port Hueneme to form Naval Base Ventura County (NBVC).

We ended up at Port Hueneme Historical Society Museum. A sweet little place that smelled pleasantly old! The building was filled with old women and older history items. Outside the rather small building were many monarch butterflies. Hub bobbing around ourselves like best friends. We were then told the story.

It sounds like a magical potion. Milk weed, Cosmo flowers and chrysalis. It was the story of how someone took the time to love the process of this lovely butterfly. All it takes is a little love and a few nasty weeds to attract the attention of nature’s finest beauties.

Today upon my waking up I enjoyed a very good dream. A dream I have been waiting for since my mother’s death. It was a closure dream. In this dream husband opened the front door to the usual UPS knock. There was another package, another calculus book, or similar book, for the kids. Then we heard another knock on the front door. This time I opened the door. From top to bottom the front door was filled with packages. My husband gave me a guilty look. A pouting praying mantis face.

“It is not Christmas time,” I said.

I pulled out one of the packages.  A large white one. A box that might conceal a dress or new pants. Then I saw on top the name ‘Holly’ written in cursive.

“How could mom give me this after her death?”

A wonderful gift from her. That is what mom would do. Write our names on top of our gifts. It was her writing…. I know it by heart!

Today has reached an illuminating place of thanksgiving.


No more daily prompts…spiritual and musical discernment.

I will miss the daily prompts on WordPress. When I created my blog almost 7 years ago it was so exciting to post and read other posts. I do less and less of the daily prompts, but I always go back to do them. Now I find it is all over with. Kind of like a club that goes out of business, or a group of friends that stop seeing each other. Nothing stays the same.

Takes me back to when I was going to university at Los Angeles Mount Saint Mary’s college. I attended 2004 to 2007. I enjoyed all the courses I took. I put 200 percent of my time into learning. I left because the curriculum started to sway a bit off its ecumenical track. There was a kind of pressure stating to form about preferences over whether one was a catholic or not.

I became very strong in my interreligious perspective. I love studying history, culture, myths, and humanity. I was getting very close to finishing the Master’s program. One course forced me to make a moral decision to leave the program.

I was in a very interesting course on spiritual discernment.  The course was taught by a Sister / Nun who was rather old and taught the course more like a high school course than a master’s course. I liked her, and she seemed filled with integrity until our confrontation about child abuse. Currently, it was in all the news. The Los Angeles Sex Abuse cases. It was very troubling for me to behold. My 6-year-old and 15-year-old sons where very near and dear to me. We were not attending any catholic church at the time, but I was still angry.

The Sister said to the class that all of this “child abuse ” will make the Church more authentic.  I stood up and said,

“…but Sister one child is too many, how can this be?”

Sister looked at me and said,

“That is, your opinion!”

I was overwhelmed. I finished the course with an in-depth paper on the Mandala! I got an A on my paper. Yet I continued to rub the head of the department the wrong way. I was heart-broken. I left. I paid off my student loan in a couple of years.

In 2007 I read this in the news, ” Catholic Church Settles Los Angeles Sex Abuse Cases for $660 Million.” Shocked but I  knew then that what I was feeling was my own spiritual discernment.  Mine was right on. I wanted to move towards becoming a chaplain. I wanted to work with helping others regardless of their age, sex, faith etc. Yet, there is one thing that is unacceptable. I am glad I left the program.

The end of the semester I left the university and went to my first music event in a long time. I attended the Wiltern Theater to see Black Rebel Motorcycle Club. My hair was to my butt and red. I was on a new path again. I never went back to the Wiltern, but I did revisit lots of bands and shows since then. It was a freeing time of spiritual and musical discernment. Black Rebel Motorcycle Club help[ed me through a rough time of heavy discernment!

Summer pit… looking for Dulcinea ?

Griffith Observatory

It feels heavy this summer. We went and got our first donuts in months. One from Blinkys and it was OK. Been going there for 27 years and the place is not holding up to it’s once high standards. Too expensive. They use Pine Sol now and it smells more like an old sleazy bar than a donuts galore bakery. The corner of Topanga Canyon / Dumetz is not holding up either. Not the place of red-hot love, hippies hitchhiking or getting a cold tall glass bottle of Doctor Pepper on the way to the Whisky A Go GO to see some small time punk bands of a small town punk scene.

I guess my Muses are in the South of France this summer leaving me dry as the sun here this summer.

Anyway while looking through some old pictures on my computer I came across the images above. A little inspiration form the cosmos … that can do it somethings.  Oh ya and a song from the film Man of La Mancha !


 

Asteroid Goddesses

A new Inspirational Bubble Gum Flopside Comic…

13~ Asteroid Goddesses


Only in the shower do I sing…

Doe: a deer, a female deer, alludes to the first solfège syllable, do.
Ray: a drop of golden sun [i.e. a narrow beam of light or other radiant energy], alludes to the second solfège syllable, re.
Me: a name I call myself [i.e. the objective first-person pronoun], alludes to the third solfège syllable, mi.
Fa’ [i.e. “far”]: a long long way to run,” alludes to the fourth solfège syllable, fa.
Sew: [the verb for] a needle pulling thread,” alludes to the fifth solfège syllable, sol.
La, the sixth solfège syllable, lacking a satisfactory homophone (see below), is directly referred to in the song as a note to follow so[l].
Tea: a drink with jam and bread [i.e. the popular hot beverage made by steeping tea leaves in boiling water], alludes to the seventh solfège syllable, ti.


Hugo Wolf1, 3 March 1860 – 22 February 1903) was an Austrian composer


I wish I could sing well. In the 1990s I received my AA in Humanities. This gave me an option to take some fun courses. Do some risky stuff. I took two vocal courses. One was basic, ‘learn how to sing’, with all the fancy techniques like breathing from the diaphragm. Singing ‘do re mi fa sol la ti do’ repeatedly with one single breath was not easy.

I endured the class and sang the song Blue Moon as my final project. I sang the original “Blue Moon” a classic popular song written by Richard Rodgers and Lorenz Hart in 1934. When I joined the chorus as part of a class requirement. I knew my singing was not class “A” stock. We had to perform for Los Angeles Valley College’s Christmas celebrations. I was in the first Christmas sinning group. After we sang I heard a mumble from the audience…, “OK now we will hear the real singers in the next choir singing Christmas music !”

So, I tortured myself and took the next music class that went from learning only how to sing: to singing operettas in German, Italian and French? I really went all out when I decided to sing my final song written by Hugo Wolf. ‘Heut Nacht erhob ich mich um Mitternacht?’ or Last night I rose at midnight.

My wings melted! My voice and confidence as well. I left the course before finals because the class was too much for me. Sometimes a good challenge is about the process of just trying. I did find Hugo Wolf!

If I could sing a song. Like a sexy noir dame. It would be the song below.



Last night I rose at midnight,
Because my heart had furtively stole away,
I asked heart: where are you rushing so
furiously?
It spoke: only to see you, had it run away,
Now see how it must be with my love;
My heart escapes from my breast to see you.

In music, solfège (/ˈsɒlfɛʒ/,[1] also US: /sɒlˈfɛʒ/, French: [sɔl.fɛʒ]) or solfeggio (/sɒlˈfɛdʒioʊ/, Italian: [solˈfeddʒo]), also called sol-fa, solfa, solfeo, among many names, is a music education method used to teach pitch and sight singing of Western music

Tongva Nation to More Housing Over Rocketdyne


Of all the places I’ve been, never thought Id end up living my senior years so close to the place where I grew up. Walking around the block this morning I heard an air conditioner turn on. Yes, summer is here in the San Fernando Valley. A flash back took me to the sound of rocket engines being tested at Rocketdyne. It was scary to hear that sound as well as the pressure of jets breaking the sound barrier or the loud alarms that went off on Fridays. The end of the world science fiction days.  Last month at Los Angeles City Hall I viewed a very old image of the Mission on Sherman Way or the Hidden Chateau. Only fields were surrounding the old mission.



New apartments are being built near there now. So many apartments where wild flowers once grew. Now the streets are filled up with cars, cars, cars. Except for early Saturday and Sunday mornings when the streets become like they once were. When the fields were filled with wild rabbits we chased on our horses. Increasingly building apartments, with our much thought, are going up everywhere. If I could I would put a hold and consider the congestion all of this is creating. Really?



Youthful friend Ruff and I once pulled down signs off the hills where we grew up. Thinking that this would stop the hills from being covered with large houses smooched together. It didn’t help at all. My home town still holds magic if you go looking for it. The clouds over Rockeydyn still shine with a weird hue. Yes, I did see it all UFOs and beyond.



Wild Promethean fennel still grows in blocked off housing gardens built in the 1950s. If the plant is noticed and not destroyed with weed killer. The smell of the Santa Monica hills still spread a mist of longing for hikes. Even if only around the block. Hawks, owls and raccoons and coyotes still come to visit. I hope I don’t end up in the nursing home around the corner? Well, maybe that would be alright?



KFXM 98.3 “Ain’t No Square” ….

Had a bit of a twilight zone experience today. My antennae is up and caught a new channel I never heard before on the car radio. It comes in weak, but I got it on two different cars. Rock & Roll 50s or oldies music. Was I~ 8, 10 or 17? Music my generation grew up listening too. We only had a few radio channels, but the music was the best then. When I was a teenager we were into 50s nostalgia. We cruised Van Nuys BLVD and thought we were in the 50s. It was safe, and the music was loud, and it was wild and fun!

Today I ate a large ice-cream cone. The first in years. Reminds me of the long walks with friends to Thrifty’s to get a three-scope ice-cream cone. Cost us pennies. Walking, riding on our metal wheel skate boards. Is what we called it back then. As free as the wind.


Wild Rose


It may seem backwards but not from my mothering heart. My son now faces his first romantic suffering. What can I do but be silent &  be there for him as he works and plays. I know his heart is broken. He must endure and become stronger and with empathy move on. To oldest son “he” is the Wild Rose…. and she is the “young boy.” It is OK to change things around…. both are not safe from the pains of love, first love!



Poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Lieder by Franz Schubert.

A promotional poem….just because…