Walking the Dog

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William Blake’s Illustrations For Dante’s Divine Comedy (1826)

The rhythm and blues, rock and punk rock and the continuity of a beat blows through generations. The beat, guitars and some vocals all take on a life of their own.

I first remember hearing the Rolling Stones by way of my siblings’ records or from the radio.

 Something new and fresh after years becomes,

“I wonder how many times I have heard this song !?”

Yet a good song will bloom up and expand out into a new generation.

Blues, rock, and punk rock…

As the musicians play the songs, beat it out, as the music goes up and down our spines it has a life of its own… it enters our DNA.

As a young girl walking home. A car drives by and that song is playing loudly. Ya that song and the beat held me for a short time as the car raced by.

Listening to it on a record or at a live show that same song grabs you and shakes all those memories from your guts.

We mortals get old and die but the beat, the songs live on until a giant earth explosion … all gone…until,

The black-angel says to the white-devil…

“Dig that song, that beat… “

As Dante Alighieri himself is just “Walking the Dog.”



rufus thomas


Baby’s back, dressed in black,
Silver buttons all down her back
High, low, tipsy toe,
She broke a needle and she can’t sew

Walkin’ the dog,
Just walkin’ the dog
If you don’t know how to do it,
I’ll show you how to walk the dog

Asked a fellow for fifteen cents,
See the fellow he jumped the fence
Jumped so high he touched the sky,
Never got back till the fourth of July

Walkin’ the dog,
Just walkin’ the dog
If you don’t know how to do it,
I’ll show you how to walk the dog

Come on now, come on, come on

Mary, Mary, quite contrary
Tell me, how does your garden grow?
You got silver bells and you got cockleshells
Pretty maids all in a row

Walking the dog
Just a walkin’ the dog
If you don’t know how to do it
Show you how to walk the dog

Come on now, come on, come on
Oh oh, just a, just a, just a walkin’
Just a, just a, just a walkin’
Just a, just a, just a walkin’

Oh yeah, if you don’t know how to do it
I’ll show you how to walk the dog, oh

Just a, just a, just a, just a, just a, just a walkin’
Just a, just a, just a, just a, just a, just a walkin’, oh

Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine Narrative

Call To Narrative

A call August 2021 until August 2022



Once I received a letter from a mother who demanded we refund subscription money. She did not want her son reading such degrading trash as Flipside Fanzine.

Flipside Logo Designed by X-8 Calendar Issue 11


Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine’s story is about a music scene. It is also a relationship held between bands, promoters, advertisers, clubs, and Flipside staff. Likewise, it is about correspondence, those fans who wrote letters into Flipside, who also wrote in with classified adds. Hubs among hubs or friends among friends who worked at creating a punk scene and kept it going.

Locally and internationally from 1977 to 2001, “Flipside” documented an underground punk rock music scene. The importance of any fanzine is to document their scene. Flipside accomplished this and was successful at doing it. The motto “being more than a witness” was a mark of integrity for this Whittier/ Pasadena Sothern California based punk fanzine.

If one was to hold a Flipside Fanzine up and look inside, what would one find? Information, stories, a culture that communicated with each other. A punk scene beholding to all involved.

This is a call to anyone who shares in the continuity of Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine. This call to narrative, is a call to come forth and share your story.

A 500-word short essay of what you did, wrote, accomplished, worked on with ~ Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine.

This is a long-term project. A gathering of real stories about Flipside Fanzine. Some will be included as part of the Los Angeles Flipside narrative documentary film.

Maybe you were a band on a Flipside compilation, or a band that was taped live and included in one of our Flipside Videos? Maybe you worked as staff in the late 90s?

I have friends tell me that they wrote into the Flipside classified ads section and advertised for a drummer, hooked up and then formed their band.

Maybe you were a cartoonist, writer or photographer who had your first work published in Flipside?

This is not just a narrative of sweet words, but I hope a story that shares many levels of insight and a good balance of controversial stories such as Flipside’s record reviews or Al’s critical and biting essays.

Or some notes why you think your interview in this documentary might be informative, challenging or fun… a good story to share….

“I still wait for a drive by shooting because of some god-awful record review I wrote up.”

Best Regards

Hudley Flipside

The Seminary of Praying Mantis Publishing

Send essays to….

(A brief insight or a few notes is appreciated as well, I just love the medium of essays and like to read them… but the idea here is to hear stories, the narrative, your connection, experience with Flipside Fanzine )


CALL TO NARRATIVE

hudleyflipside@gmail.com


If your essay is about a certain issue or time frame, such as the 1970s, 80s, 90s or 2000s please reference all your material with a sound foundation. Please reference such and such an issue, article, and page, that type of sourcing of Flipside material and or products. 



My Treatment /Proposal sample…


Shadow Unity

My simple glance at America … a motif poem about human vulnerability!

ICU intensive. 4 patients sick with COVID19.

All on ventilators.

The respiratory team monitors the machines as the doctors do online visits.

Nurses attend to bodily functions as CNAs change diapers and turn patients.

Janitors and the full team wear special gear sterilizing everything. The CNAs are watching for bed sores and making sure patients are comfortable and clean.

We have a black woman who is a strong supporter and protested on the streets for Black Lives Matter. Jane is 34 a single mother with 3 children.

Next to her is Daniel. He is a southern Baptist who was attending services when his community came down with COVID19. Many are fine and only three died. He misses his grandchildren.

Tom is a single young man in his 30s and is a professional federal agent who contracted the virus at a community protest. He was called in by an underground community alert squad who asked for protection. He was only there to monitor the situation. Their city was inundated by people hanging out all hours. Graffiti all over and businesses are closed due to protests, looters, and the virus. The local business community and residents want the protesters to go home.

Dan is also extremely sick he is one of the unidentifiable vigilantes. Local small businesses raised funds to have these military people around to protect their businesses and communities. He was born in India and his family lives locally. They are also fearful and want their communities back. The protesters and media have labeled them fascists.

Meanwhile alleys are filled with human waste and trash from endless nights where people ignore curfew.

The news is showing statistics as we view a monitor as the COVID19 rates are increasing day by day.

A child of 12 views this same video with her father as they are sheltering safe at home. He lost his job as a chef at a local restaurant.

Together they both try and understand why the virus is spreading as the doctors’ state clearly.

 “Don’t hang out in groups or clusters of people, if you must go out wear a mask. Don’t pull it down to scream.”

The 12-year-old thought that was funny but was told by her parents that she will not be going to school this semester. She wants to go swimming at the local beach because she sees so many there on the TV monitor. Her mother says,

” lets run through the sprinklers in our backyard where we are safe.”

The 12 year old is learning about responsibility and caring for others. Her mother is a journalist and works online.

Her parents are struggling as many are, yet they are doing their part not to spread the virus.

They wear masks and practice social distancing! They will not be given their tax break for having a K-12 school age child this year because they refuse to let their child go to school.

A tent is arched under a freeway. A homeless man watches as protesters take over his town.  He does not care what their political persuasion is.

My simple glance at America … a motif poem about human vulnerability!

ICU intensive. 4 patients sick with COVID19.

All on ventilators.

The respiratory team monitors the machines as the doctors do online visits.

Nurses attend to bodily functions as CNAs change diapers and turn patients.

Janitors and the full team wear special gear sterilizing everything. The CNAs are watching for bed sores and making sure patients are comfortable and clean.

We have a black woman who is a strong supporter and protested on the streets for Black Lives Matter. Jane is 34 a single mother with 3 children.

Next to her is Daniel. He is a southern Baptist who was attending services when his community came down with COVID19. Many are fine and only three died. He misses his grandchildren.

Tom is a single young man in his 30s and is a professional federal agent who contracted the virus at a community protest. He was called in by an underground community alert squad who asked for protection. He was only there to monitor the situation. Their city was inundated by people hanging out all hours. Graffiti all over and businesses are closed due to protests, looters, and the virus. The local business community and residents want the protesters to go home.

Dan is also extremely sick he is one of the unidentifiable vigilantes. Local small businesses raised funds to have these military people around to protect their businesses and communities. He was born in India and his family lives locally. They are also fearful and want their communities back. The protesters and media have labeled them fascists.

Meanwhile alleys are filled with human waste and trash from endless nights where people ignore curfew.

The news is showing statistics as we view a monitor as the COVID19 rates are increasing day by day.

A child of 12 views this same video with her father as they are sheltering safe at home. He lost his job as a chef at a local restaurant.

Together they both try and understand why the virus is spreading as the doctors’ state clearly.

 “Don’t hang out in groups or clusters of people, if you must go out wear a mask. Don’t pull it down to scream.”

The 12-year-old thought that was funny but was told by her parents that she will not be going to school this semester. She wants to go swimming at the local beach because she sees so many there on the TV monitor. Her mother says,

” let’s run through the sprinklers in our backyard where we are safe.”

The 12-year-old is learning about responsibility and caring for others. Her mother is a journalist and works online.

Her parents are struggling as many are, yet they are doing their part not to spread the virus.

They wear masks and practice social distancing! They will not be given their tax break for having a K-12 school age child this year because they refuse to let their child go to school.

A tent is arched under a freeway. A homeless man watches as protesters take over his town.  He does not care what their political persuasion is.

Even he wonders about the situation. No one is leaving coins in his cup. He wears a mask and practices social distancing. As he always has. He is hungry.

Even he wonders about the situation. No one is leaving coins in his cup. He wears a mask and practices social distancing. As he always has. He is hungry.

______________________________________

Death “Leave Your Body and Soul at the Door”


“It’s funny how pride and ego are the very last human vanities to go.”

~ D. Brinkley

Death is heavy on my mind these days. So many have died due to this virus all over the world. Putting politics aside I want to look at the fear we hold in us about death.

I have many books on my bookshelves that speak of life, death and rebirth. One does not have to have a religiosity to participate in this rite of passage. It is pretty much out of our control. I do not have the direct quote here, but I remember reading about how William Blake felt about death in one of his many quotes. That he would rather see the afterlife as filled with lovely angels. His heaven was a blissful imagined place.

“The sensations verged on orgasmic, yet my thoughts were spinning a mile a minute.” ~ D. Brinkley

I took two books to look at today. To read and reflect upon once again. One is Dannion Brinkley’s book Secrets of the Light and the other is The Tibetan Book of The Dead.

Both books complement each other in that they talk about death. Dannion was struck by lightning, died and was brought back to life. He has written three books about his near-death experiences. The Tibetan Book of The Dead is a creative and ritualistic book about death in a helpful way. It speaks of the Bardo.

“Bardo means gap; it is not only the interval of suspension after we die but also suspension in the living situation; death happens in the living situation as well. The bardo experience is part of our psychological make-up.” ~ Commentary

I think this is where the world finds itself right now. A gap between the dead and the living, between the staying home and going out and between the past and future. Each moment is the place of bardo, and we are, in a profound sense, all being struck by lightning. We are responsible for this, what is happening in our world. How can we make it better? Well, that is up to you.

So, I took it upon myself to get ready to have my mind and heart prepared. I also think on all those who have died and are dying. A prayer is in order.

Even Albert Einstein as a master mind scientist had a way to see this psychological make-up of humanity,

“There are two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.”

I live my life upon a miracle. I want to be ready when death finds me.



Rape at Mar-a-Largo

The Daily “FUCK” Gazette Feb/2020

A prime oracular from Flopside Comics. It has been awhile ! We at Flopside Comics listened to The Dumpster give his weird ass oracular speech of lowest degree. Also known as “the state of ‘fuck the union’.”

Mr. Fuck remarks that,

“His speech is poorly written and lacking facts , bad grammar, word propaganda and bull shit … it deserves to be ripped up ! I’d burn it too!“

Yet Dumpster mentioned California as a sanctuary state , he pronounced it as “stank- uary” state , a place of rape by Illegal Immigrants.

Mr. Shit also loudly declared,

“It Is the worst illogically written propaganda I have witnessed! It is like saying how bad Florida is because a ‘serial-killer’ killed in his home State of Florida! I wonder how many young girls were or still are being abused at Mar-a-Lago?”

We at Flopside comics all agree that

Donald John “Jackass“ Trump aka as Dumpster is the lowest of the low!

A hippie kills a punker

Life can be many things at once. Goodness and badness, light and dark, friends and enemies. These are the polarities that we are facing currently in our world of extremes.  Even though there is a third path, as in the fact, regardless bees are still making honey. Just go outside and find a bush with flowers. If you live in the very cold you may have to wait until spring. Here is California my hanging rosemary is going to town. The sound of bees is my convent to the earth. My repetitious theme song is by 10 Years After, If I Could Change The World. Redone by another band more on the punk side. So here we come to the core of my focus. The 60s, and the late 70s, and 80s. A decade each.

The 60s were an amazing time for free thinking and youthful rebellion against corruption. A sick government and a terrible war. Yet in this illuminated time darkness was born by the name of Trump. Likewise, the 80s a new music scene revolutionized forward with unclassified music that became divided and classified. Still mighty awesome. Then we have the general Qassim Soleimani who was just assassinated, who was born as a prime one for the punk scene.

Donald Trump born June 14, 1946 (age 73). He was prime for the 1960s as his youthful young adult time. Hippie time. Now we have the general Qassim Soleimani who was born March 11, 1957. He was born at a prime time for the genesis of the punk rock phenomenon. A punk.

The most creative times and inspired times in history the dictators are born. In the darkest times and in a vacuum of hate the best are born that humanity has to offer this troubled earth. In generational time frames a hippie kills a punker.

Nonetheless, do not lose sight of what is now happening right now.  We have a few knights rising to the call. I can see their light crescendos in the darkness. Very androgynous like most bees.



wild burning hills

 

Praying Mantis Kachina ~ Praying and dancing for fog and sprinkles of rain to cool the earth !!

A crescent of fire surrounds us. This is not the first time I have seen the San Fernando valley surrounded by fire. Yet, as the Santa Ana winds blow, I remember nightmarish times of fires and even earthquakes while growing up here. How precious everything becomes as my blood pressure peeks. Our truck is packed with valuable and important things. If we had to leave much will be left behind. Packed away in our truck I have our tax returns, Flipside Magazines, artwork and my Red Book (Jung) and journals. My family members have their few special items too. Funny what one puts in their cars in an emergency. I am saddened for those who did not get the chance to do what we have done. It is good for the psyche to prepare and organize when possible danger approaches.

I write when I am confronted with change, stress and heartbreak. Maybe a well-deserved karmic war zone~ who knows? I think upon all the wild animals. The deer, buck, cougars and coyotes , the wild animal are surviving their best too. Bless all the wild things that grow in the Santa Monica mountains.

I am consecrated by my wild Promethium fennel growing in my front yard. Taken from the Santa Monica mountains, a wild shaft that was once filled with seeds. On the wild burning hills the seeds will survive the fires. The wild yucca will come forth once again….

Below are a few posted embellished stories that I wrote that are indirectly about the Santa Monica mountains. A positive movement in dark times of vast destruction as my head bounds painfully with grief !!

Blues For Baby and Me / Adventures of Sony and Raubie https://hudleyflipside.com/2016/11/02/blues-for-baby-and-me-the-adventures-of-sony-and-raubie/


The Snake https://hudleyflipside.com/2012/04/15/1950-2012-on-the-snake/


https://hudleyflipside.com/2015/06/11/the-chapel-of-the-oaks/


Bitchin’ drive over Box Canyon this morning in my car.

New Badges !

Christine Blasey Ford



Audience members stand up to listen during a Senate Judiciary Committee markup hearing on Capitol Hill in Washington, DC on September 28, 2018, for the nomination of Brett M. Kavanaugh to be an associate justice of the Supreme Court of the United States. – Kavanaugh’s contentious Supreme Court nomination will be put to an initial vote Friday, the day after a dramatic Senate hearing saw the judge furiously fight back against sexual assault allegations recounted in harrowing detail by his accuser. (Photo by Brendan Smialowski / AFP) (Photo credit should read BRENDAN SMIALOWSKI/AFP/Getty Images)