A new Inspirational Bubble Gum Flopside Comic…
13~ Asteroid Goddesses
A new Inspirational Bubble Gum Flopside Comic…
13~ Asteroid Goddesses
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.
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/, 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
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?
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.
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!
At this time last year, we went for a drive. On our way to San Francisco California. Our mission was to see some William Blake at a book library.
They also had some Blake facsimiles for sale. Which I found irresistible. We took a roundabout way to get there. We ended up on the mighty Monmouth Mountain staying in a nice off-season hotel. It was large and even had a kitchen. We went out later to have some sushi and a beer.
Walking home the high altitude made me feel strange. The hotel had a fire outside in the courtyard. We sat and moved around the large fire. It felt wildly bizarre. Then we entered the room and went to bed. I can’t sleep long on my sides especially with a full belly. I have arthritis. There was a big couch near the fireplace in the hotel room. I watched the fire and fell into a deep sleep.
I awoke to see myself looking at myself. My doppelgänger looked just like me but was fully dressed in the long dress coat I was wearing the night before. Sitting down on the table before me, my doppelgänger was looking deeply into my eyes. I looked right back.
A haunting, mysterious overwhelming feeling of depth touched me that morning. A profoundly uncomfortable darkness addressed me as a presence which I do not want to meet again…. any time soon!
Today youngest son decided to take a state AP Calculus test. It was in Simi Valley. So I took the old Santa Susana Pass home. Then the wild and mysterious Box Canyon as well. The magic is still there too. One thing I can still count on in this fucking strange life. As I reached the high point of Box Canyon I saw the pig with red eyes and then the 1979 Gary Numan song Cars came on the car radio. A moment of wow. My little green Fiat then tuned into a magical ride down a roller coaster. Turns and downs like never before with the words of Gary Numan singing to us. My little Fiat was a jewel as we road through the nimbus foggy clouds always hangin’round this place. What a bitchin’ roller coaster ride it was this morning.
The song is all about those times when wild music seemed to fill the airwaves and my jerky head. 1979 was a very good year for this fresh new music. Also years later, the song was on my oldest son’s first play-station game. One of the first PS games he mastered is Test Drive. What a great song . Takes me on a car ride of good memories and today I have a new one. Perfection !
An Untouchable Bastard…? Maybe not but we will see. The stereotype of abuse by federal leadership ! Everyone to blame but me. So sick that we at Flopside Comics had to do a little “You’re a Bastard Editorial…”
Mr. Dang says, “I’ll push your self-indulging wang of the table …any dame tame….!”
I guess it all comes down to this, that no one with any good sense or decency really wants to work with the Trump White House. A world of fucking decadence and scummity ! (New word )
Remember Flopside Comics are stupid like the flawed human experience and we can make fun of it cause it sucks!
The punker band Detox came into my focus today. Also, someone asked on Facebook if punk rock is dead. I think of punk as a genre of music, as a standard, like Jazz. It keeps playing on. For me it is about one song to the next. That is what I based My Punk@lullaby Journals on. Punk is all about a song, an experience, and friends. So, I guess if all the punk standards die, and all experiences of punk, and all your punk family of friends die… then it is dead. Or you die it is dead.
If you play what you like to hear it is not dead. One can go anywhere to experience punk. Music blaring though your headphones, at a show, or at a big festival. (I shudder at the thought) That is just my preference. Punk music is like playing back memories or experiences that I have had. Punkers. I think we all live at our own standard of punk whether it be past, present, or creatively in the future… I tend to jump around to… hanging at one place more than others. I don’t consider myself a punk, but I have had my share of the 10% punk experience. There is a continuity of that kind of experience in my life.
My favorite standard of punk are two bands. Detox and [Charged] GBH! The Bass & guitar of Steve and Tony and of Ross and Jock are the best. Anytime I hear a song by either band their sounds make me happy to be alive. All those wild confused good feelings come back of belonging to a family of punks over time and space. I just feel fucking great…. thank you…. that bass guitar sound punk standard …. The best of the best…. Good, glorious and makes me feel GREAT!
That is all have to say today….
A dollop for your reading pleasure from 1984 fans. Taken from the letter section of Flipside Fanzine Lee Issue # 44, 1984. We published 7 issues in 1984. This tape is dedicated to all the Los Angeles Glitter Scene women who became the foundation of an early punk rock scene…and to Pat Fear for his Flipside theme song.