Spiritual and Musical Discernment 2

As the nice Sikh man taught me, “Put your hands together, palm to palm. Now place before your nose. Then bow your head saying, “The light in me greets the light in thee.””

The early 2000s were a driving achieving time of university and programs. A whirlwind of religiosity and esoteric studies that often clashed between a diversity of scriptures and the interpretation thereof, between faith and loyalty. It was a quickening of a few years that only happens a few times in one’s life.

My youth was gone, I was married again and had two young boys under my care. My life was full of a husband, school days for my sons and myself. I learned to drive the 10 freeway at night from Topanga Canyon to the San Fernando Valley.

I studied on the Mount Saint Mary’s campus in Los Angeles. A beautiful campus filled with a type of religiosity, culture, and history. I had dived into religious studies deeply. I learned to reflect and discern religious commentary and diversity. I had goals to get somewhere foy myself and my family.

Yet I got stuck in the spider’s web of a type of religious fundamentalism that I naturally repelled.

Ecumenical Christianity led me down the broader path of interfaith and this is where I found Religions for Peace. I enrolled for this summer program and was accepted.

A United Nations program bringing religions together from all over the world. I met with the current chaplain of the United Nations who was very balanced in her faith. I was considering becoming a chaplain myself.

I applied at Childrens Hospital of Los Angeles. Yet was not accepted due to my belief in reincarnation and other broader interfaith views.

The Religions for Peace was a vacation away from my family for two weeks.

It was in Kansas City, Kansas. We stayed in an old church with bedrooms, cafeteria, and large rooms for presentations. We visited a variety of churches, temples, and synagogues. We were served cultural traditional meals that were amazing.

As a representative for the United Nations, it was an overwhelming honor, more than I deserved.

Remarkably at one gathering we were served Indian food. Large tables were set up for over five hundred people. Dancers on stage performed for us. Large tall containers of warm milk and tea were in site. The two were blended to make the most delicious cup I have ever had. A type of Chi-Tea.

In contrast the poverty around the building where we stayed was sadly overlooked. I took a walk to a local Mexican restaurant a couple times to see where I was, since I had never been there before.

The plane ride there and back was like a dream.

I missed my family so much. I had long nights of fever and wild dreams.

One of the young ladies who was representing the Jewish Tradition was wearing a owl shirt. To be friendly I tried talking to her,

“How nice.”

“Oh, this I got it at Target,” she said quickly and turned away.

That night after a large group talk presentation about diversity, religion and how some faiths or race religions suffered. I remember the Chief who came to talk about diversity of his faith enter one of my dreams with some wise words later that night.

I saw him outside my window calling me to come fly away with him and owl.

“Holly come to the window,” the Chief said.

I saw him yet could not respond in deep sleep.

It was the most challenging time of my life. These people were so serious and professional. I learned something new. Which was the Sikh religion. It was the only real gem I took home with me.

“Sikhism advocates equality, social justice, service to humanity, and tolerance for other religions. The essential message of Sikhism is spiritual devotion and reverence of God at all times while practicing the ideals of honesty, compassion, humility, and generosity in everyday life.”

I left early because I could no longer endure the pressure and rudeness that I found there. Which I did not understand?

I had a sad feeling that this was not a place for me. I needed to fly away with owl. I came home a few days early.

Looking back, I cherish the friends I did make there! I wish I could have documented the experience better. More pictures, places, and dates. When I got back to university, I was shunned for taking a step away from my program.

This was around the time when the local Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Los Angeles child abuse cases had just broken in the news. So, I left the Masters Program. It became unbearable.

“TOO DRUNK TO WATCH” Punkfilmfest Berlin.

Facebook Page

10th Punkfilmfest Berlin

Public · Event · by Too Drunk To Watch – Punkfilmfest and Lichtblick-Kino Berlin


Dear Hudley,


“TOO DRUNK TO WATCH” Punkfilmfest Berlin has updated the Judging Status of your submission Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine the Narrative Documentary / Film. to Selected.

In the belly of summer is not my favorite place to be. Yet a sparkle of accomplishment shines and I am happy for this acknowledgement.

I worked hard on telling the creation story of Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine. It holds a nutshell of honesty and how it was once. Fanzines helped the growing punk scene. The players who did it are just as important in the scheme of things.

A waiting game and it feels great. Berlin … wow.


A few years ago, I went to a local synagogue for an art event. An artist was giving a lecture on creation stories and art. I was amazed at the insight and reflection in his presentation, but it was how he finished his talk with our own personal creation story. He said,

“We can all render our own creation story as a painting, a poem… there are endless ways to tell a narrative of your life.”

I thought about my tenure as publisher, owner, editor of Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine. I was vague on the actual creation story for this fanzine.

Then it hit me hard to tell this narrative. So, I gathered the original staff, as many as could address the issue. X-8 declined which was sad to me for he was the actual creator of this fanzine. Al is not interested and seems he has fallen off the edge of the world. Pooch and Pete gave me a run around.

Al and I came up with a system that worked for us. You can ask someone once or twice to do something but never a third time…

“Just ain’t going to happen,”

We did it ourselves or someone else would jump in. That is how it was done.

This is how it was still done. Larry, Tory, and Mr. Tony were there to do it. Even Mike Ness was up for an interview. As we are old time buddies. Yet he did not pass the test… so I had to move forward.

I am very happy with what came forward with three honest great storytellers of the highest order in my mind. How grateful I am for a solid Los Angeles Flipside Creation Story.

I did a little research while in the process of achieving these interviews and how I presented them.

A little advice from my protagonist Michael Moore and even a tidbit from my nemesis the Rollins of Henry.

I read that Michael said you begin with what you have around you and Henry said, once in a documentary, that a lot of us did not keep or preserve our stuff and that upset him.

I started this narrative creation story with Michale’s advice, and I was happy to disappoint Henry with a positive to his negative. I have a lot of preserved stuff from my days as a fanatical fanzine journalist.


The details are not as important but I worked with Zoom, Adobe Premier Pro, and the many other little willy-nilly of doing it DIY and learning as you go.

As I say it not the best or the worst, creation narrative or Epeisodion yet it does tell a story…. Flipside Fanzine is all in the voice of a punk, band member or artist or the old dame sitting at the edge of the pub surfing her stool, like me!

Mission complete.

— with Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine Narrative Documentary Film.

“TOO DRUNK TO WATCH” Punkfilmfest Berlin


What has come forward from me today. The punk Rock Curse…

Punk Rock Colleague & Historian and Professional Consultant

Hudley Flipside

Old people speaking their minds.

To me Punk Rock is all about experience. It is the effort put forward telling others a piece of your mind. A voice in the wilderness. A rebellion of sorts. That is rock & roll. A song that eternally endures. Yet as writers that is what we do. And as I get older, I have a great need to reflect and write. So be it.

Funny how the ideal of punk rock merged with do it yourself. That is how it was done because no one else was interested, so you learned as you went.

The thrill and intimacy of this is beyond words. Creativity was challenged daily, and frustration was at times like a wave crashing on my head.

The process and thought forms both materialized into a product.

Once a promoter connected with me and said I can promote your work. For $10, 000 only. He said he had all the connections to make it happen.

I looked to other publishers to make it happen for my books too.

Then I found myself in disbelief at the greed and disrespect for my work.

Or I was just ignored. That happens a lot now when you think you are competing with the big labels, promoters, and other corporate monsters. Some but not all are unscrupulous though.

I find working with a couple of big film companies the nicest of the bunch. They talked clearly and had contracts to sign. Yet it was only an image or two I was sharing on my terms.

I still do it myself as I did back in 1979. I went back to that calling in me. My goals are to express myself and popularity is never something I focus on.

Yet speaking up as someone who knows the narrative.

I am proud of all my work presented here. More autobiographical but at Angela Lansbury,

Jessica Fletcher, said,

“Autobiographies are a good place to start with writing.”

I would like to be in the same situation she was in. Travel and visit with other writers and journalists. Give talks and critique and help others along the way. Yet I am not the social animal her character is. Yet that is what would be fun.

Avant-garde… and so I advance creatively in life..

After making it through melanoma cancer and after my computer died … we are all back and I just wanted to have some fun here… at the liminality of life that I often write about if you notice is a strange place to come back from … yet this time of the year Spring into Summer often is for me. Yet this was a dark one.

I found it is the things we create and people and places that visit often during this time that made my life much more bearable.

Sitting in a bedroom, converted into an office, has been bliss for me as I join the past into the present. The cat hairs, the bumble bees outside and a Tuesday are amazing to me.

As well as the technology to be creative is the process… a place that is my favorite place to me.  

Is this the Avant-garde possible…?

The Seminary of Praying Mantis Publishing- Letter to Politicians

Here we go again… The 2024 United States elections…. The politician whores cometh!

The Seminary of Praying Mantis Publishing- Letter to Politicians

Dear Whomever,

I hope this letter finds you well, I want to thank you for your service to all the communities you serve. Thank you for all the thoughtful work you do for “We the People.”

“I believe in the equality of man; and I believe that religious duties consist in doing justice, loving mercy, and endeavoring to make our fellow-creatures happy.”

~Thomas Paine

One arrow can be easily broken. But when five arrows be bound together, they become strong. As the five arrows are strongly bound together with our ways and customs and this shall symbolize that the five nations are united; we are of One Mind.”

~ Peacemaker to the Mohawk, Oneida, Onondaga, Cayuga, and Seneca   

Thomas Paine and the Great Peacemaker both are an echo of the best of our country and as creative souls inspire us always to the pursuit of happiness.

We have all made it through trying times and we can all help each other together now. My service is to make “my fellow-creatures happy” and it is my goal to help all of us realize “We are of One Mind.”

As an older woman who has a small publishing company, I serve my tribe and or community as a creative soul. Help me to do good!

Be Well,

Hudley Flipside



Sliding scale donations are thankfully received.

Five dollars, Twenty dollars, One hundred dollars, Two hundred dollars. (Includes two of my books)


#Disclosure: I have received nice letters like this from many politicians who then ask for money. I think it is a great idea. I need the money too, to run my business to serve my community and the world.

As Thomas Paine said, “The World is my country, all mankind are my brethren, and to do good is my religion.”

Make donations through PayPal; hudleyflipside@gmail.com

Click on image below… thank you.

Vein of Gold Enduring, The Flipside Fanzine Story

I was thinking about what is left over from work done or from ones own experience. I think of a scene from the Musical Film Paint Your Wagon when a scheme is made to gather all the gold that falls down under bars and saloons. Miners for gold losing their gold dust. A clever way to get rich or collect from what is unknowingly or uncaringly left behind.

That is what it is like for me now as I gather my Flipside Fanzine gold that is dissected all over the place. I know I will never get rich from my gossamer shining memories or documentation of a scene during my youthful rebellion, but it seems to go on shimmering everywhere. It has a real story and narrative that I still gather.

I cannot put back together the vein of gold enduring as a solid experience that was documented but I can try and show my story, the Flipside Fanzine story, as it happened, and this is important to me. I can be a magnet pulling the gold of Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine towards me and alchemize the authentic narrative to share. A richness like gold that will endure.

Promotion for New Book



Republished by his Great Grand-daughter Holly Duval Cornell / Hudley Flipside.

The Seminary of Praying Mantis Publishing

Cappen Jan Jake A Cornish Tale….

Cappen Jan Jake A Cornish Tale….




Republished by his Great Granddaughter Holly Duval Cornell / Hudley Flipside.

This book has been with me since I was a child. It was passed on to me by my mother. She received it from her family. It is my maternal great grandfather’s story.

When I first saw it, my mother told me a few things. Her grandfather was a minister from England. She did not know if he was Cornish, Welsh, English, or Scotch-Irish. Who listens much as a kid?

As I got older and wiser and really took a look at the undercurrent of this narrative. Modest that it is, I have come to say it holds a bright gem of Cornish Character. A rich narrative about Cornwall England during the years of mining and changing religiosity. The central point being Redruth, Cornwall England.

This narrative has a light rich touch as the Cornish slang within the story. Written by my great grandfather who tells a moral story valuable to understand and fruitful in human experience.

I have since come to find through my own research and study that Howard Watson was in fact a Methodist Minister who lived in Cornwall England.

After this book was published, he and his family came to the United States and traveled up the Mississippi on a steamboat to the Dakota Territory. He entered a blend of lawlessness, slavery, and growing law and order. He came at a time of planted towns, trains, and the creation of barbed wire. The Buffaloes were almost gone. A shifting time in our American wild west.

Yet this book is a story about characters before this. Cornwall, England is almost like an Island and so rich in ancient history. My eyes are opening to a time that amazes me. A place that supplied the industrial revolution where the Cornish people ‘mined’ for what was needed.

My goal here is to republish this book for my own satisfaction. My great grandfather is preaching to me and the once twinkle in his eyes has passed on to twinkles in mine. His whispers are real as well as his story about a place and time, in Cornish history.

I have added a glossary at the end as well as my own illustrations to enhance the overall narrative. I hope my great grandfather will appreciate my style of art.


I saw a dry leaf

Standing up against


The breeze blew

It softy

Turning and dancing around

Anchored to

An invisible something.

I imagined all things

Logical and magical.

I got up to see

And touch it,

One of my thoughts

Was right,

I pulled on the line

from a spider.

The anchoring force

Was not so magical

Or against gravity.

The lovely silk

Shimmering string

in the breeze

Will not be enwrapping

Anymore this day.

The Great Mystery. Your Name is your Essence

Out of my mind on a Saturday night,
Nineteen Eighty Four rolling in sight.
Radio Bird Man, up above,
Beautiful baby, save our love.

All night killer, blown away,
All night killer, blown away.
I feel alright, I fell alright,
Feeling alright.

Save your baby, burn my heart,
Save your baby, burn my heart.
Fall apart now baby, fall apart.
Save your baby, burn my heart.

Out of my mind on a Saturday night,
Nineteen Eighty Four rolling in sight.
Radio Bird Man, up above,
Beautiful baby, save our love

Waiting for sentinel lymph node biopsy with lymphoscintigraphy surgery is like being in purgatory. Two weeks of not knowing if there is nothing to be concerned about or on to the next stage of removing cancer. It is a time of waiting and not knowing that can get on one’s nerves.

Yet isn’t this a small motif of our lives, of the overall variables and possibilities of living from day to day?

Where we come from and where we are going is the larger question, yet it is a constant in our lives. We have to trust that the earth will turn, and the sun will rise and so forth.

Knowing this is very comforting to me.

Waiting for surgery is a small motif of waiting for death. It will come someday but we just don’t know when. So, I will live my waiting like I live my life. Trusting the mystery of life, trusting my surgery and hopeful that all will be alright, feeling alright!

It is intense at times; at times all of my breath leaves me. A thread of darkness comes forth to taunt me. Depression or grieving is like that. It does not last long and as William Blake might have said,

“I look for the angels in my life to brighten my day.” One day at a time.

So, I go wondering and look to the wisdom of my Jungian Red Book and Black Books. They cross reference well.

“You know that the name one bears means a lot. You also know that one often gives the sick new names to heal them. Your name is your essence.”

Page 282. (Liber Secundus.)

The Healing of Izdubar by Carl Jung from his Red Book

“The nations will see your righteousness, and all kings your glory; you will be called by a new name that the mouth of the LORD will bestow. You will be a crown of splendor in the LORD’s hand, a royal diadem in the hand of your God. No longer will they call you deserted or name your land desolate.”

~ Isaiah 62:1

Both of the above quotes come from a narrative from both Carl Jung’s Red Book & Black Book Vol. 3.

It is about the sun god Izdubar.

It is about an egg, fire and being healed.

It is from Jung’s psyche that leads me on an interesting journey about something to do with my skin cancer.

So, I am guided back to religious text and ancient narratives that may help me endure what I am going through right now. A new name? A healing name? My animus?

“…from the depths to the heights-hovering around myself amidst fiery glowing clouds-as raining embers beating down like the foam of the surf, engulfing myself in stifling heat- suddenly, once again, blazing up glowing white-embracing and rejecting myself in an enormous game.

Where was I? –

I was completely sun.”


Jung, Black Book Vol. 3