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.

Tennessee Williams The Roman Spring of Mrs. Stone

spanish_steps__trinita_dei_monti_from_piazza_di_spagna_rome-1.jpg


Rome is full of the sound of running water, near or distant, loud or barely distinguishable; running water and stone steps are almost as much the signature of the city as the cream-colored domes against the blue sky: and it was not a thing easy to believe, that the man standing at the other end of the window would be urinating against it.

~ Tennessee Williams  The Roman Spring of Mrs. Stone


Within the story is a journey of the feminine. A journey that is not often revealed in our current culture. I have watched this film many times. The characters have depth and are interesting. I got a copy of an eBook to read a year or two back. Today I read it and I am glad that I did. The film is an exceptionally good rendering but lacks the full depth of the novel.



Two characters in this short novel are the opposite from each other. One is a shy beautiful young man who rests on an Egyptian obelisk and the other is an aged woman who has lost her beauty and rests on an experience she calls drifting. “American tourist who had stopped a little space away from him, under the Egyptian obelisk whose cryptic pagan engravings the man was appearing to study.”

His clothes are worn and there are holes in his shoes while her clothes become more and more of the highest fashion. This beautiful Apollo has no name and the aged woman is a famous actress, and both find they are in Rome. One was born there the other is a rich tourist. The young man is fixed on her, “for when a man has an appointment with grandeur, he dares not stoop to comfort…”

She is aware of him yet ignores him. He tries to get her attention and she is frightened by his common ways and poverty. His archetype is her Dionysus, that is reaching for that part of herself that is empty. He wants to fill that emptiness with passion and happiness. A stillness that speaks of illumination. He taps, appears in reflections from windows and gestures an ancient salute to try and get her attention.

“His beauty was notable even in a province where the lack of it is more exceptional in a young man. It was the sort of beauty that is celebrated by the heroic male sculptures in the fountains of Rome. Two things disguised it a little, the dreadful poverty of his clothes and his stealth of manner. The only decent garment he wore was a black overcoat which was too small for his body. Its collar exposed a triangle of bare ivory flesh, no evidence of a shirt. The trouser-cuffs were coming to pieces. Naked feet showed through enormous gaps in his shoe leather. He seemed to want to escape the attention which his beauty invited, for whenever he caught a glance he turned aside from it. He kept his head lowered and his body hunched slightly forward. And yet he had an air of alertness. The tension of his figure suggested that he was continually upon the verge of raising his voice or an arm in some kind of urgent call or salutation.”

The film does not touch in on many of the especially important elements that hint upon the magic of female initiation contained in Williams’s novel. The film is much darker than the path of the story.  “…by the balustrade of the terrace. She looked down from it, absently, into the well of the little piazza below. The last remnant of sunlight was touching the pagan inscriptions upon the dull rose granite of the obelisk.”



Karen Stone is waking up to a place within herself. A place that is not moving. She lost her husband to death and has given up her acting career. Karen lost her beauty and the pretense of years of heartless ambition. Her drifting is now partly filled with another young man. He has a name, a position, and has many of the ambitious qualities that she herself once had.

“Paolo is by way of being a little—what was the word she had used? Oh, yes, marcbetta! Something a little superior to a whore but still something on the market superior mostly in being more expensive, an article of greater luxury and refinement, what the French called poule de luxe…”

One difference is he awakens a passion in her she has never experienced before. Even after menopause she is now finding a new place in her life. “The past was, of course, the time when her body was still a channel for those red tides that bear organic life forward. Those rhythmic tides had now withdrawn from her body, leaving it like a tideless estuary on which desire rested like the moon’s image on a calm sheet of water.”

Maybe only moments open to her where she does not experience that feeling of drifting. ” She feels as if time has stopped. in her heart, what would she find as she moved? Was it simply a void, or did it contain some immaterial force that still might save as well as it might destroy her?”

A shining happiness is approaching Karen Stone that may be something ancient and good.  “Her head was remarkably quiet as if a savage bird had been locked in it which had now flown out through some invisible opening.”

I love the film but it is only a shy companion next to Tennessee Williams’s novel.



notes


https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_obelisks_in_Rome

Trinità dei Monti

41°54′22.1″N 12°28′59.6″E       Above the Spanish Steps. An Aurelian copy, although smaller, of the Flaminio obelisk of Ramses II in the Piazza del Popolo, for the Gardens of Sallust. Found by the Ludovisi and moved to the Piazza di San Giovanni in Laterano in 1734, but kept horizontal. Erected in 1789 by Pope Pius VI.

https://pharaoh.se/pharaoh/Ramesses-II

 

http://www.obelisks.org/en/flaminio.htm

https://archive.org/stream/twelveegyptiano00parkgoog/twelveegyptiano00parkgoog_djvu.txt

 

 

 

 

Wicked Men


Alexis Zorba: God has a very big heart but there is one sin he will not forgive. [slaps table] If a woman calls a man to her bed and he will not go.


I viewed two films last night. The films are Wicked Woman and Zorba the Greek. They are in general both particularly excellent films. One is a 1950s film noir and the other is a cultural film from the 1960s.

Each film captures a time in history. A snapshot of how things may have been. Characters in both films are believable, realistic while also having a diabolical and magical edge.

As a woman a motif came forward that bumped up against my conscious feminine. Both films are from a winning male psychology. The men can fuck up, screw up, cheat, lie and even kill. They get away with it and so a happy ending for them. The women on the other hand always get the short end of the stick. They get let down, lied to, abandoned, used, and killed.



In the film Wicked Woman Beverly Michaels as Billie Nash is an independent woman who is on the move to find a place to put her roots. Roots within a man and a place in the sun. Billie keeps playing One Night in Acapulco by Buddy Baker, on the jute box. She is tall, smart, and has a graceful walk. Men are after her the whole time. The one time she focuses in on a man he takes her, and they plan a sinister plot that falls through. Richard Egan as Matt Bannister gets off the cheating hook and Billie is blackmailed, seduced and must split on a bus. She must beat it.

She is the Wicked Woman that gets the blame. Billie is smart and helpful, yet the man traps are all around her. As a bar server she is wise with her words as every man tried to get her. She even helps her victim drink all the booze she wants even though her husband says no. This bar did not have mixed drinks only shots and beer. I like Billie’s character and understand her. As a woman I cannot tell you how many times I had to take the short end of the stick and leave on a train or bus for something I did not do. Even if she is guilty so is Matt and his drunk ass wife. Even Matt’s alcoholic wife sides with her husband over her friendship with Billie. I think that the two dames in this film should have been wise by telling Matt to go screw. They could have sold the joint and headed for Mexico. To lie in the sun a little bit, drink and have fun. As Billie said. “They like women with Blonde hair and light skin” in Mexico.



Anthony Quinn as Alexis Zorba is our male Zorba the Greek. The film is a cultural phenomenon. It is what it is in an absurd way with a very excellent soundtrack. The hard edge Greek patriarchy is saturated with tradition. A village that is self-sufficient with a thread of history and honor. Every man in this film is an asshole except the fool. Zorba is a creative natural genius that has a compassion that is appropriate at times. He teaches Sirtaki to Alan Bates as Basil. A wonderful Greek dance which shows how Zorba relieves his pain of living life while confronting death. Charming in a way.

Lola, Madame Hortense, and the Widow are parts of this film if only indirectly put among the friendship between Basil and Zorba. It is correct when Zorba tells Basil that the whole town of men are jealous, and all want the widow. A lovely young thing.  Kind of like all the men wanting Billie in the Film Wicked Woman. In this case the lovely young woman is trapped, stoned and then has her throat cut. Premeditated murder by a whole community of men and their old crone women. They are jealous of her youth and beauty. Madame Hortense dies in this film thinking she is married to Zorba to cover up for his earthy affair with a younger woman named Lola. Regardless of this unbelievable cruelty the men dance away their pain.



These two films are part of the winner male psychology. As a young girl growing up, I had this crap dumped into my sensitive unconscious psyche. This kind of male world. I am glad I am wise to it now. I can enjoy these films for their place in history. Yet, I wanted to affirm they are playing against the feminine rules.

Man, at bar, “How about having a drink with me?”

Billie, “I can’t it’s against the rules.”


Quote

Great above, great below

via Great above, great below

On this rainy day of green and black…

Two Stories for St. Patrick’s Day



I was not going to tell these two stories about my life. What the hell. I may tell them again. That is the advantage of getting older. We have the ability, knowledge and have earned the right to do so. Coming from a large family I might as well.

St. Patrick’s Day is when my father died only a few years ago. He died at home. The house he lived in for over 6o years. The same one his brother built for him and the land his mother bought for him. He had five children. On the day of his death after my siblings and I watched him pass to the sounds of Frank Sinatra, my choosing, the morticians took him away just like they did my mother a few years earlier.  Then siblings and I jumped in our cars and headed for the local pub. The Pickwick on Ventura where we grew up. We ate a hearty traditional meal and drank. The well was closed to us, yet we were not asked to leave. As my dad liked to eat and drink, he also did not want any hypocritical words said about him after his death.

On March 17th, 2018 I went to ER for an asthma attack. My boys had a BBQ and the fumes, and a cold gave way to this torture. Yet, it was only the beginning of my suffering. Along with the Albuterol treatment I was thought to have Pneumonia. I was given some mighty powerful drugs for a little old lady of 61 who stands about 5 foot three inches. I was given Amoxicillin and Prednisone. Once home and breathing I awoke to a train beating in my body, and so the descent into the underworld took me a year to begin to recover. The doctors always roll their eyes when I tell them I was raped from the inside. Not being able to swallow solid food. Initiation starts with a type of poison or strange call. I got mine for sure.

I survived the strange happening. I took many a path to find my way back. I did find it. I met some interesting characters along the way. Also, I learned about the power of our Thyroid ductless gland and the power of the balancer known as our Heart. As I was told…. Pluto loves Persephone. I suggest one never forget this quote even if you do forget my two stories. You may need this quote in case you also find yourself lost in the underworld. I am still mindful and working towards a full recovery!



The Fennel Wands

Ides of March

Join in the dance holding high the thyrsus

Thyrsus staff tied with taenia and topped with a pine cone.


Euripides also writes,

“There’s a brute wildness in the fennel-wands—Reverence it well.”

(The Bacchae and Other Plays, trans. by Philip Vellacott, Penguin, 1954.



Pentheus: The thyrsus— in my right hand shall I hold it?

Or thus am I more like a Bacchanal?

Dionysus: In thy right hand, and with thy right foot raise it”.[3]


The cult of Dionysus is also a “cult of the souls”; his maenads.


Maenad carrying a thyrsus and a leopard with a snake rolled up over her head. Tondo of an ancient Greek Attic white-ground kylix 490–480 BC from Vulci. Staatliche Antikensammlungen, Munich, Germany


Dancing Maenad Roman copy of Greek original attributed to Kallimachos circa 425-400 BCE at the Metropolitan Museum of Art


 

 


 


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Shine on shine my little star

image rellief / Stencil of Chiron 1995

Chiron, is a small Solar System body in the outer Solar System, orbiting the Sun between Saturn and Uranus.
Orbital period: 50 years. Discovered: October 18, 1977Radius: 84.314 mi Aphelion: 62′ 0″ Orbits: Sun Angular diameter: 0.035″ (max) Discoverer: Charles T. Kowal


Some say that punk has been around a long time. It has in one form or another. Yet the flavor I am referring to is a unique form, known as Punk Rock, that formed around the cusp, a little before and after, 1977. The median of young punk at that time being the age of 19. As most born in the year 1958.

The small solar system body discovered at the time is Chiron known in mythology as “the wounded healer.” Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine formed at that time. Punk bands with this flavor formed too. The Saints, The Dammed and The Ramones. Sex Pistols etc. Around the time of 1977 to 1987 is the decade of the creation of this unique flavor of punk that continues today.
Now (charged) GBH, the Circle Jerks and Social Distortion are celebrating their 40-year anniversaries around that time median.


Mar 28, 1977, Chiron enters Taurus. Feb 18, 2019 Chiron enters Aries. “Chiron teaches us the philosophical perspective, and the perspective that our wildness, which may put us outside the status quo, may be our wisdom.” ~ Tim Lyons


The current 40-year celebration is based on the beginning close to the cusp of 1977. The originators and wild ones who moved with this flavor of punk rock.
Back then were not our glory days but more the beginning when we all had to create our hubs, bands, media, promotions, record labels, and fanzines. We were isolated and dependence on each other was the key to our survival. The news did not mention us unless cops charged our shows. Our ways were strange and unique. We did it all ourselves. Dark rooms, silk screens were what we did. Flyers are how we communicated.

I always had a way into this flavor of punk. It is in my DNA. Like most of us original characters we are now writing about those days. As a bard and punk journalist, it is only natural for me to do this.

Recently I received a review on Amazon calling my Punkalullaby memoir as being “Trite and Boring.” I thought of many ways to respond to the criticism, but I did not. It was a long process for me creating and then sharing my story. I think that review is more about the reviewer than my story. If that person took the time to read it. He would have found a woman’s psyche addressing the world with her wild woman ways. It is about characters, music and the growth of a punk scene. Punks who grew up together.

I don’t see the past as my glory days. Yet, I did make some darn good friends. I think that 1977 was a unique time that brought a lot of misfits tighter together. This is all about our experiences and friendships which both need to be held up high and respected.

This is the key of our punk scene. Its foundation and flavor of punk rock, music wise that is. Chiron is an embellishment,  a signature in the heavens that once announced our coming. That it all is valid and has deep meaning. So, do our lives.

“Shine on shine my little star

Up above the world honey that you are

Shine on now you don’t give me no love

Hit me like a death ray baby from above.”


 

 

 

 

Quote

Within our Nature

via Within our Nature

I’m a lucky girly..


“During the life of the garden, women keep a diary, recording the signs of life-giving and life-taking. Each entry cooks up a psychic soup. In the garden we practice letting thoughts, ideas, preferences, desires, even loves, both live and die. We plant, we pull, we bury. We dry seed, sow it, support it. Pg. 100.”

~Women Who Run With the Wolves, Charissa Pinkola Estes, Ph.D.

I just recently read the above quote. I’m touched when another person understands things that I do but don’t often talk about.


Our one-bedroom apartment in Van Nuys California was a tree fort apartment. The west, north and east sides of our apartment were open. Not being a joined to another apartment was nice. We were right above a parking structure on the second level. No one living overhead us either.  To the south a wall was originally shared with a gay black man. He made my husband chicken soup when he was sick. Next came a Hispanic family whose children went to school with our son. A small elementary school on Erwin Street. I walked him to school and back each day.

One year for Christmas I purchased a little rosemary Xmas tree. A small little thing with a red bow. Eventually I planted the little tree in a colorful pot. Placing it right outside our front door. It grew nicely with fresh air and sunshine.

When we moved into a house in the San Fernando Valley, I took that hearty little rosemary bush and planted her in front of our new home. The rosemary plant went through many changes. Droughts, water rainstorms and bad trimmings by gardeners.  Twenty years later this evergreen bush is mature and lovely. Being large and full of life and busy bees. Her purple aura now is radiant with the sounds of nature and humming.


Loves grows where my rosemary goes…


Wild Promethean fennel, taken as dry little seeds from the Santa Monica Mountains, is now heading into third generation. I have been sowing the seeds around our yard. As delicately and respectfully as possible!  This year I found some youthful green shoots. Distinctly wild Promethean fennel. Add more to my pleasure these green fennel shoots are right next to my mystery Holly Hawk. Her seeds were sown too by you know who?



Hudley’s Manifesto

1977 – 1981 Jimmy Carter, 1981 – 1989 Ronald Regan, 1989 George Bush.

Be More Than An Animal

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“Life is not primarily a quest for pleasure, as Freud believed, or a quest for power, as Alfred Adler taught, but a quest for meaning. Pg. 27, Frankl.”


Anarchy, chaos and no government were unending slogans within the punk rock community. Remember this structure. We turned the peace hippie finger symbol into vice, vandalism and violence.  Plenty of clubs were destroyed and punks were not asked to come back. We rebelled against authority. The music and lyrics of songs moved us. Our persona as punks defined many of us but not all of us.

Today I see a President who is using these same ideals. Less government, anarchy against our United States constitution. Every day he creates chaos by dividing the people of our republic.

It is strange to me to see this. I am not the young punk I once was. When young I rebelled because I was angry at a world that let me down. I had the freedom to rebel. Other countries do not have this freedom to speak out.

Now as an older woman I see how corruption does not care about the goals of freedom. Without a conscious we have no chance of drawing a line.

As a young punk I developed and learned about compassion, integrity and creativity. I have a moral compass. I have come more to see the world as in a constant state of duality or contrary perspectives.

When Trump uses anarchy, chaos and less government to take from the poor and give to the rich, I rebel.

When Trump and his fossil fuel industry take from the land and give to the rich. I rebel.

When immigrants are housed in cages, similar as a concentration camp, and separated from their children to be sexually abused. I rebel.

When the republican party supports anti-abortion propaganda while taking healthcare away from children. I rebel.

Trump takes the truth and inverts it and surrounds it with emotionalism. A heated propaganda simile.  Politicians do play their games, but Trump uses his ministry of propaganda like Paul Joseph Goebbels did. He was a German Nazi politician and Reich Minister of Propaganda of Nazi Germany.

As a young punk I unconsciously searched for the dignity of life. As young punks we questioned the status quo. I guess I am still doing this. It is a good quality to have. I want to believe that most living punks have this insight. A joined movement inside us individually and collectively.  An inside continuity. A search for meaning.

I am sure we all see this differently, but this is my perspective. There was something that brought us together.

At a current Youth Brigade show I heard similar words spoken about politics, age and being angry. No longer young punks we are standing up for life as something to believe in. Something is very wrong with our current President.


“Three possible sources for meaning in work (doing something significant, in love (caring for another person), and in courage during difficult times. Suffering in and of itself is meaningless; we give our suffering meaning by the way in which we respond to it. At one point, Frankl writes that a person “may remain brave, dignified and unselfish, or in the bitter fight for self-preservation he may forget his human dignity and become no more than an animal.” ~ Victor Frankl, Man’s Search For Meaning.


X on 93.1 Jack FM

I was pulling out the truck to pull in the trash barrels. I was very surprised to hear X on the radio. Especially on 93.1 Jack FM. This radio channel is usually very repetitious with their music.

The last time I saw X live was at the 30-year Golden Voice show.



Recently I have sadly been hearing about Exene Cervenka “Christine Notmyrealname,” in conspiracies as a Trumpian. Yet there has always been a hair of this type of thinking moving through this controversially surviving band.

When I saw them at the Golden Voice celebration, I knew every song by heart. That surprised me and my body went a bit out of control too. The young punk chicks looked so pretty and cool around me. Yet they were giving me a look, as if thinking,

“Who is that old fool?”

I didn’t care and was thinking back at them,

“Just old, like X , and a fan of their music…homies.”

The contraries of life are all around us… and it is perplexing at times.


“she had to leave
los angeles
all her toys wore out in black
and her boys had too
she started to hate every nigger and jew
every mexican that gave her lotta shit
every homosexual and the idle rich”

X – Los Angeles Lyrics


Interview with X issue Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine 10 1979 Interviewed by Al and X-8


Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine # 54 The Ten Year Anniversary Issue. (replica)

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1691716995