I lost the source of this song but as I was researching ancient tunes, I came across this one that I found interesting. I asked my niece who plays the violin if she might bring it to life. She lives in Seattle, Washington, and I live in California. I was going to university, and I wanted to present this in a presentation for a course I was taking. It is lovely and there is no claim of it. I wish I had a copy of the music I found in an archive somewhere. Yet I am reading a new book entitled Sophia Wisdom: Heart Wisdom by Annne Elizabeth Taylor and the book is inspiring my Sophia research from years ago and all my lost studies are coming together again and I am overcome. So, I made this little sequence.
That crazy Godzilla Punk Rock Night Club in Sun Valley is where I first saw GBH’s – Leather, Bristles, Studs and Acne spray painted on the wall.
I was then in search and found the vinyl and became a fanatic. 44 years now for me.
The album City Babys Revenge is one of the best sounds of punk rock! The band and songs are phenomenal. A forty-year celebration. I got the vinyl from Zed Records of Long Beach and played it loads. Yet seeing (Charged) GBH live was just the best experience I had as a young punk bird. They still thrill me as an old crone owl.
A hardy band that still tours around the world and I think they are indestructible. I really do!
Colin Abrahall
A bit of history in front of Perkins Palace Pasadena mid 1980s.
In Greek religion, the staff was carried by the votaries of Dionysus. Euripides wrote that honey dripped from the thyrsos staves that the Bacchic maenads carried. The thyrsus was a sacred instrument at religious rituals and fêtes.
Light and shadow magic comes to visit at different times in life.
The wind was strong and pushed over my angel solar light. I just got home from shopping as I was looking up at Jupiter and the waxing moon.
I have been changing my routines a bit. I go shopping at dusk now and take my showers in the morning or in the middle of the day.
Taking morning walks is something different too.
When I saw the angel at an angle, I ran to fix it when I noticed the shadow playing on the wall behind it.
I said aloud, “A Ghost Mantis holding a Thyrsus.”
I will let the angel be.
I took a picture and played with the image on Adobe Photo Express.
“The Double does not exist only as an Ahrimanic shadow in individual men. There are members in this Doppelgänger sub-hierarchy of far greater power who act as the anti-spirits of peoples, nations, and races.
And finally, there is the World Doppelgänger, the Anti-Spirit of Humanity, which plays its historic role as a servant of Lucifer in opposing the rightful evolution of human consciousness.”
Pg. 291 The Spear of Destiny, Trevor Ravenscroft.
Taken from The Terrible Death Bubble Gum Comic A Flopside COmic!
“I am the spirit that negates,
And rightly so, for all that comes to be
Deserves to perish wretchedly;
‘Twere better nothing would begin.
Thus everything that your terms, sin,
Destruction, evil represent—
That is my proper element.”
― Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Faust – Part One
Friday night was time to go out and celebrate because my man was winning a Chess tournament online. Youngest son, my man, and I made three. We went to the local Pub and then bar to celebrate properly.
We played darts at the Pub and had some healthy “Humulus lupulus” while listening to real records. The hiss and scratches and well listened to 45s made the music more enjoyable to me. Soul, ska, and other melodies moved through the Pub and lots of hugs were shared.
At the next-door bar, we had some cocktails and enjoyed the slow ambiance of a well-loved bar. Nice and easy with an anime film on the screen. A break from the usual sports in most bars.
As we were finishing, I looked over to see a man with a beard. Brown and friendly looking. We smiled in what I thought was a happy nod of enjoyment.
He came up to us as my youngest son got up to take care of business. Then the man walked over to my man and me.
“Not just Jews were killed in WWII by the Nazis.”
We responded with a knowing agreement. Then he went on.
“My great grandfather saved a whole lot of people. Christians mostly and not many Jews.”
Seems this guy was reflecting upon his grandfather and WWII.
“You liberals think it was only Jews. You who voted for Biden and Kamala Harris!”
We then got a little confused and I said,
“How do you know who we voted for?”
Then he addressed me directly,
“Who did you vote for?”
“None of your business!”
We batted that back and forth a few moments.
Then came the flip into a world of conspiracies and insanity when he looked at me and addressed me singularly.
“You liberal voting people think only the Jews were killed in concentration camps. But you are the real Nazis.”
“How do you go from talking about WWII and then accuse me of being a Nazi?”
I then put my hand on the table with a whack. Telling him about how my dad got a purple heart as a captain pilot during WWII.
Then I explained myself by saying,
“I respect that your grandfather saved many lives during the war from concentration camps. Yes, there were all sorts of people who died there, and the people were also saved. Gypsies, Christians, Jewish people,
I really don’t think it mattered who you were or your faith. Hitler killed anyone opposed to his belief system of inhumanness.”
The man with the beard seemed filled with total contrary ideas that made no sense but only served to confuse and attack others who he found offensive. He is one of the “ministers of chaos.” Who spreads their hate talk.
It was a really sad moment of the evening, and when he told me he did not give a fuck about Iranian women’s demands for freedom I turned my back to him and walked away with hands up.
Youngest son confused him by saying,
“I didn’t vote for Biden.” (Just to see the bearded mans confused expression of an unexpected answer.) And added,
“Thanks for the story.”
Nothing that going to Denny’s didn’t wash away fast…
At Denny’s restaurant, youngest son was laughing and said,
“I was staring at the tiles in the bathroom and then I walked out, and you were talking to this guy. It was a weird thing to walk into….”
He really enjoyed the contrary people we met last night between the pub and the bar. We have not gone back since.
“Alister Crowley adopted different identities when the mood struck him-and, like Trump, did his best to keep his name in the newspapers-and chaos magick asserts that one’s identity is malleable, that one should “reinvent’ oneself often, play different roles. We should pretend to be someone else, to envision a “magical self” possessing all the qualities that we desire, something that some New Thought advocates also suggest .
Chaos magick also promotes the idea of using “shock tactics” saying something “outrageous” in order to “enhance personal power,” something that, as with much else about chaos magick, seems to come to Trump naturally.”
Pg. 76-77, Dark Star Rising, Gary Lachman
These chaos ministers are a part of
WE THE PEOPLE,
They are out there,
and it is something to be aware of,
Even at the local bar.
Does George Santos ring a bell?
He is a manifestation of this “Crazy un-Wisdom” of “Chaos magic!”
Seems it is what it is.
In a bar in the San Fernando Valley California
To the House of Representatives
And some Senators…
bewildering our beloved District of Columbia,
these dark spirits or anti-humans are hanging around,
spreading their chaos,
chanting their bullcrap chaos magic.
Using “shock tactics” saying something “outrageous” in order to “enhance personal power!”
May 7, 1945 … yesterday some celebrated Germany officially surrendering to the Allies, bringing an end to the European conflict in World War II. Churchill gives his V for victory salute! Yet in truth it is much more than that! If you don’t believe in magic listen up ! Some symbols are powerful.
This image or salute was given to Winston Churchill by Aleister Crowley, occultist, ceremonial magician, poet, to protect him ( his country.. the world) from the diobolical depth of the Nazi Party . History is what it is. I made up a few badges … I use it against Trump 👽
Five to eight hours we would spend at the Scotland Yard Pub in Canoga Park. Music, beer, and friends was the key to a great night.
Tonight, Friday the 13th this January 2023. We were debating going to the “Yard.”
We lazed around and asked each other,
“How about a pint at the Yard?”
“Ah, well the last bartender there tried to rip us off. No band playing around, and he wanted to charge us an extra fee.”
“Well, he most likely does not work there anymore, it has been a while since we went.”
“If you really want to go.”
“It might be ok, if we don’t like it, we can leave quick.”
So, we went, and I am glad we did. The “toxicologists” were really nice. Two people that had a history there but new to us. They poured a mean Guinness. Perfect.
I waited for the DJ to spin his records.
Telling the bartender,
“I will wait for my second Guinness. If I like the first song, he plays I will have another.”
I did. The technology is different, but the style was progressively historic. A mixture of generally fun songs.
One I liked was a rendering of Spandau Ballet’s – True. Which happens to be one of those songs that has a notch in my songs of synchronicities throughout my life. It comes a calling speaking the truth of life to me. Telling me good things. Like this bar has a soul.
We were drinking our first pint when a song came on the jukebox machine stereo. Another song that has meaning to me of confidence and movement in my life. Jimmy Eat World – The Middle.
A few years ago, I was wrestling through some dark times and that song showed up a lot to raise my spirits. This bar has a good spirit of friendship and caring. It listens to the people here.
Yet what really told me that punk rock still mingles in the air, corners, and heart of this place, a song by the band Fear came on as we walked in the door on the jukebox machine stereo.
Didn’t I just post something about the band FEAR today? That is how it has always been here at the Yard.
The first night there years ago when a DJ named Chris Ford played Suspect Device by Stiff Little Fingers, that is when I knew I was at a place that really got it.
I walked up to him and asked him to play another one of their songs. He was amazed I even knew who the band was.
This bar holds the magic of music, spirits and friends and I am so glad that the musical synchronicities which led me through this short hour are still alive and well and available to all who attend this bar.
It made me feel great. It was quaint, beautiful, and my potato chips in my Guinness foam were heavenly.
Tito is the best part of a rather sad story about creativity. What it is and what it is not.
Things that bug me at night or during the day… what made me sad after the deal. Dealing with band managers and big wig film people that act like sugar but are not to be trusted. I am learning the hard way and if you are nice, they will screw you. It is so contrary and confusing.
Last year having someone from Universal email me about an image from Flipside to use on a T-Shirt for a film was an interesting story.
The first point being is I was amazed that Universal sought out original source. Next the image was found on a T-shirt for sale at a store in Los Angeles.
The person who used the image from Flipside took it and just used it. He made a silk- screen and sold it for maybe twenty bucks. A copycat for profit. He was not creative enough to come up with his own original design but ripped off someone else’s work.
Next there is the designer who wanted the image to be used on a T-shirt for a big wig film.
This designer most likely got the credit for designing a T-shirt with an image which received permission from Universal to use. That is because they found me, original source. The designer was not creative enough to come up with their own original design but ripped off someone else’s work.
I only got $200.00 for letting the designer use the design originally from Flipside Fanzine. A picture taken by Al Flipside. Since he is not around to defend his work, I try and do it for him.
At the time images were taken to put in a Fanzine, created by fanatics of their punk scene. It was done to support and promote bands when no one else did. Flipside hardly did it for money but for the love of a scene. It was a hell of a lot of fun. We got our perks in many different ways.
Yet I sure would like to know how much the designer got for taking someone else’s image and putting it on a T-shirt. A copycat for profit. When you think about it, it kind of makes no creative sense.
I am sorry that seems like a pretty strange way to make money. In the film the actor covers the T-shirt anyway.
Both the guy who sold the T-shirt at the store in Los Angeles and the designer come from the same bag. A rotten one for sure or maybe since I was dealing with Universal, I might have asked for more money, maybe ten grand. Hey what is ten grand to a big wig company like Universal? Maybe I should have told them to go screw too. Yet it was exciting to be part of a film in a very very very very small way.
In conclusion an uneasy thread to pull and reflect upon.
I saw something unexpected today. Billy Idol got a star on Hollywood Blvd. and Mr. Henry Rollins was the presenter. I saw the photograph on a site. Now and then I do like to reflect on my punk rock glory days.
I think upon these two characters that influenced us by their music or words in a big way. I knew them, as many of us did, as youths with deep and high ideals that I once respected.
I met Billy after he left Generation X.
He visited Hollywood. A group of us youthful rebellious punks were talking about music. We were in the back of a liquor store waiting for some beer because we were not 21 yet. Someone was WHEELING AND DEALING with the booze scheme. Billy and I were talking about the Beatles and how much he loved them. He then cried on my shoulder stating to me that he missed his mates back home.
The beer arrived and a friend of mine whisked him away and that was the only time I met him. Over the years when I see him or hear his music, I often reflect back upon that sweet young kid who was kind of lost.
Henry was a wild youth too. He was kind of funny and thoughtful when I first met him. Yet as time went on our friendship soured. I think it was due to a subscription to Flipside Fanzine he never received because his letter fell behind my desk. Maybe the critical reviews I did of him in Black Flag were thought to be unfunny. His lack of humor made it easy to accelerate into doom.
Funny how a guy from England and a guy from DC can be standing on the grounds whereas young punks, who grew up here, used to run wild on those same streets. Then no need, or sense of fame or fortune.
Once equals as friends and fans of the punk scene, they got bigger, and we got smaller. Yet I think I am happy with my place in the world, and I hope they are too.
The sweet and bitter is what punk rock left me. As a punk rock fanatic,
In the Heat of the Night is a 1967 American neo-noir mystery drama film directed by Norman Jewison. It is based on John Ball’s 1965 novel of the same name and tells the story of Virgil Tibbs, a Black police detective from Philadelphia, who becomes involved in a murder investigation in a small town in Mississippi. It stars Sidney Poitier and Rod Setiger and was produced by Walter Mirisch.
I am working with the music program “Cakewalk Band lab” and the music is a whimsical rendering with Rod Setiger who I love. Punk rock too.
Image from Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine Photo by Hudley Flipside
Night at the Whisky A Go Go.
First On The list…
“Trust your own instinct. Your mistakes might as well be your own, instead of someone else’s.”
— Billy Wilder
Look at Amazon in your country and most likely you have direct publishing and / or arrangements that make ordering, printing, and shipping so easy. For a global community it is pretty cool.
46 years ago, Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine first published this little annoying punk rock rag. By a bunch of guys who caused considerable trouble.
It has been an odd mission of mine to keep the light shining on its memory for those out there who want to share in the Flipside Fanzine narrative. I prefer this to the darkness of an archive or virtual nowhere land. Or even the dissection of everything all the Flipside material on the internet and other places.
Four plus six equals ten.
So, 2023 is a number that goes well with 1977. Forty-six years ago, the Los Angeles Punk scene had a creation story that countless authors have written about. Many now want to document that time through different means. Flipside Fanzine documented that original punk scene in real time. The Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine Issue # 54 Ten Year Anniversary Issue did document the punk scene. 1977 to 1987.
In celebration of this The Seminary of Praying Mantis Publishing is planning to print a hardcover special edition of Flipside issue # 54.
Turning 65 next year means I am over the hill and on my way, very close, to grandmother’s house. All the social security and Medicare to figure out. As my husband says,
“The government designs it to make you fail, they want you to fail.”
Maybe so but like most things in my life it takes effort to get things done and done right. The end of 2022 I was delighted to complete the Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine Creation story narrative documentary / film. Shinning the light on Larry, Tory, and Tony.
Epeisodion One, Two and Three… thanks Larry, Tory and Tony…
Telefunken was a German radio and television apparatus company, founded in Berlin in 1903, as a joint venture of Siemens & Halske and the Allgemeine Elektrizitäts-Gesellschaft (AEG) (‘General electricity company’). Telefunken. Telefunken’s current logo since 1919.
Watching a program of ‘Christmas Traditions Around the World’ got me thinking about traditions in general.
I was born to certain holiday family traditions. We put up a tree with tinsel. Dad put up pine boughs up above and parallel to the stairs with colored lights until the first of the new year.
Gifts galore opened as the Christmas music played on our family Telefunken radio. Mom cooked like a master chef and then split from the ladies to join the men in poker.
We did not go to church but after dinner the large family broke up. Kids went wild and the adults drank and played poker.
Dad had a bar built into the living room area. It was always well stocked, especially around the holidays.
So much has changed. I no longer have a large family. It is currently down to my husband, two sons and Sara. It is a freedom from traditions that I enjoy so much.
With traditions comes inclusion but also dogma. Now I pick and choose the traditions I want for my family.
There are two that have lasted the test of time.
Jean’s Beans and Sue’s Green Goddess Jell-O salad or side.
Jean’s Beans
Jean’s Beans is something that my mom brought to her family. As a youth her mother died, and her father never remarried. Yet Jean was her father’s sweetheart. They both had big families to tend to since both had lost their spouses. Jean raised my mother and my two aunts. My grandfather seemed a happy man though I only remember him as a toddler from pictures.
A bag of baby Lima beans (or bag of small white beans)
Cube of butter
Maple Syrup
Dried Mustard
A large container of Sour Cream
Set the beans to soak until they are pumped up then rinse. Cook the beans until they are soft but not mushy because they will go into the oven. In a saucepan put the butter and half of cup of Maple Syrup. Melt and then slowly whip in the sour cream and about a tablespoon of dried mustard. Remember adding more or less to taste is the key. Put in an average size casserole dish without lid.
Preheat the temperature to about 250 in your oven because this takes a long time to cook and must be fussed over like my mom always did. It has a mind of its own and can take anywhere from two to five hours to get it just right.
Sue’s Green Goddess or (Ambrosia)
Sue was the second wife of my now dead oldest brother Steve. She brought this dish to the family, and it became a hit right away like she was! She could hold her own with my family, which was not an easy thing to do.
Two 8oz containers of Cool Whip.
Two pistachio packs of instant Jell-o.
Two cans of crushed pineapple.
Mix it all up and put in a large container for the refrigerator. Let it sit overnight.
The Telefunken radio is what I miss most about my cursed indulgence of having been born to a large family. Yet now these two dishes are part of my tradition for the holidays that make me… happy.
“Man of the worldly mind!” replied the Ghost, “do you believe in me or not?”
“I do,” said Scrooge. “I must. But why do spirits walk the earth, and why do they come to me?”
“It is required of every man,” the Ghost returned, “that the spirit within him should walk abroad among his fellowmen, and travel far and wide; and if that spirit goes not forth in life, it is condemned to do so after death. It is doomed to wander through the world — oh, woe is me! — and witness what it cannot share, but might have shared on earth, and turned to happiness!”
~ A Christmas Carol. In Prose. Being a Ghost Story of Christmas by Charles Dickens.
My husband was having eye surgery at the local outpatient clinic and was back for a checkup. My youngest son and I went to a local restaurant to wait for his doctor’s visit. We had some drinks and ordered some food.
A nice BBQ restaurant that had a restful area near the bar with big lazy booths.
We smiled at the bartender waiter and listened to the music. It is a very pleasant place to be. While sipping my coffee stout I looked over to see a Human walking up. He sat next to me at the booth to my left and smiled. He was dreamy like and transparently present. He then told me something as my son was looking at his phone.
“You are having lunch with your son?”
“Yes.” I spoke.
“With all that we went through you turned out alright. I am very proud of you HUD. A mother and wife. You have so much to be grateful for. You did a good job.”
With tears in my eyes, I responded without words.
He then told me he needed to go because he had a lot of friends to visit.
Steve then walked away and floated with a goofy smile up through the roof.
I told my son what happened. He is familiar with my stories, and we began to eat as my husband arrived to order some food as well.
As a youngster I often would be the wild cougar running up the tree or as I jumped over a hill. Crying at night as I thought of the loss of wild things. The big cats I loved. Having the same heart and feeling a relationship with nature and humans is a hard path to balance. I have no answers and share wonderful memories with the wild.
Riding through the Santa Monica mountains on my white mustang I saw things and heard things that I cannot name. I feel them still. Sometimes late at night I still hear that wild call from the mountains. I see it in my wild Prometheus fennel from those very same mountains.
Owls, coyotes, hawks, raccoons, opossums and ravens visit and call me to relationship, and this is real to me. I think upon cougar and think upon all of us that loved this wild creature now with ancestors sharing stories and balancing closely in fields of wonder.
Give him a pair of eyes with a “come-hither” gleam
Give him a lonely heart like Pagliacci
And lots of wavy hair like Liberace.”
Silver dollars are on my mind. The magic as I view them from my memory or imagination. Mom went to Las Vegas and would play the slot machines with these babies. She would bring home many buckets full to take home to her kids. She kept them in her back bedroom closet for years.
She would pull them out every now and then as we admired the coins. Large hold in my small hands.
After her death oldest brother Greg stole them. I don’t know who has them now. He died a year back, so they are with some unknown person.
I miss mom’s large bedroom with a big window that looked over the Verdugo Mountains. The San Fernando Valley was a deep chasm of hills and homes and the Woodland Hills Golf Course.
Often, she had her radio program on that played music from the 1940s and 1950s as she sewed up dresses or clothes for herself, my sister or myself. A sewing machine on a table that had everything you could imagine for creating fine clothing.
Laying out the patterns, pinning the material and cutting were all something I watched closely.
Then a song would come on and she would start to hum it. I would sometimes dance. This was one of the songs I remember, and the song holds the memory of my mom as we danced around her bedroom.
Mr. Sandman
Sandman” (or “Mister Sandman”) is a popular song written by Pat Ballard and published in 1954. It was first recorded in May of that year by Vaughn Monroe & His Orchestra and later that year by the Chordettes and the Four Aces.
I love watching Perry Mason on TV before I go to bed. It is part of my routine to relax and watch a time before technology, big technology, took over. Phones, telephone booths and stylish clothing are comforting to watch. Yet what I do endure are the commercials in between.
A new one this season is Walgreens commercial. I try not to pay attention, which has a little logo saying, “It is not magic it’s Walgreens,” Here we find all the magic and wonder of the holidays and then the terrible quote. It is kind of negative propaganda as the company is an evangelical organization most likely. The war on magic and our imagination is horrid.
When I see the commercial, I quickly reflect on the song Pure Imagination from Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory.
“Pure Imagination” is a song from the 1971 film Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory. It was written by British composers Leslie Bricusse and Anthony Newley specifically for the movie. It was sung by Gene Wilder who played the character of Willy Wonka. Bricusse has stated that the song was written over the phone in one day. The song has a spoken introduction.
“There are two things’ children should get from their parents: roots and wings.”
~ Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe
“E: I have already uttered the words, The image that I saw was crimson, fiery colored, a gleaming gold. The voice that I heard was like distant thunder, like the wind rearing in the forest, like an earthquake. It was not the voice of my old God. It was a thunderous pagan roar, a call my ancestors knew but which I have never heard. It sounded prehistoric, as if from a forest on a distant coast; it rang with all the voices of the wilderness. It was full of horror yet harmonic.”
Pg. 237 [v.6] C.G. Jung The Black Books.
As a student of esoteric studies, and lay person of depth psychology, I learned about our vital bodies. We have our physical body, our vital body and our desire and mind body. Four bodies superimposed on us as we are awake living our lives.
At night, I have learned, when we go to sleep something amazing happens to us. Our desire and mind bodies disengage from our physical and vital bodies. All bodies are connected by sturdy life threads. Life sustaining.
It is at this time in sleep the physical body is free from desire body and mind body engagement so the vital body can heal our physical body. The mind and desire bodies float above us like balloons on long strings as the vital body does its healing panacea. Assimilating, regenerating, and eliminating is the work of our vital body.
We are like trees, often unconscious, reaching deep with our roots into our earth mother and reaching up to the sun and the cosmos bringing in sunlight. This is when we learn about the wonderful relationship we have with other planets. But mostly our bodies recover from the damage incurred throughout the day by simply living our life.
Having Covid-19 I have experienced the powerful work of my own vital body. It is so important to sleep when one has Covid-19.
It was hard to sleep for me. The pain, the fever, the fear was overwhelming. Yet when I did, I felt like a tree and the power work of sleeping happened. Waking up many times as if I went for a swim. And after such nights when I did sleep, I felt better.
Once I experienced a kaleidoscope of coughing over and over with visions of myself… it was how the world outside of me and inside of me merged. There was a battle going on. And for those of us who shared this battle you know this experience as well.
“The vital body, on the other hand, has no other interest than the preservation of the dense vehicle. By way of the spleen, it specializes in the colorless solar energy which pervades space, and by some strange chemical process transforms it into a vital fluid of a beautiful pale rose color, sending it along every nerve and fiber of the body. The vital body ever aims to husband the energy it has stored in the dense body. It is constantly concerned in rebuilding the tissues when they are broken down and destroyed by the powerful onslaughts of the rampant desire body.”
~ THE VITAL BODY BY MAX HEINDEL
The spleen is the largest organ of the lymphatic system. Located in the upper left region of the abdominal cavity, the spleen’s primary function is to filter blood of damaged cells, cellular debris, and pathogens such as bacteria and viruses. Like the thymus, the spleen houses and aids in the maturation of immune system cells called lymphocytes. Lymphocytes are white blood cells that protect against foreign organisms that have managed to infect body cells. Lymphocytes also protect the body from itself by controlling cancerous cells. The spleen is valuable to the immune response against antigens and pathogens in the blood.
Having all the vaccines I chose not to get the PAXLOVID. I don’t do well with side effects.
At this time of the year the veil between the living and the dead is so thin. Dreams are intense yet with Covid-19 my mind is weak. Yet last night I do remember the end of my dream.
I was in a large, lovely field. Maybe the place of my ancestors, Cornwall, England. It was dusk or maybe the sun was just rising. A slight mist was in the air. I was waiting to catch the vampires. I got to see them outside of my body. We stood there all looking at each other and aware.
I saw at least three or four hovering, lingering in this vast open field. I was there to conquer them.
I awoke.
Today I feel much better. I only share the feelings left of a body that battled and won. A sore back and chest. A sore throat that once was tight with heat. And then signs of a cold are slowly disappearing. Fatigued but here to live another day.
I think of all the cowboy fights I watch on my favorite show Gunsmoke. Right after a fight of getting his ass kicked, a cowboy walks up into the bar and orders a whiskey. Then powers it down, walks out and gets on his horse and rides away. No problem!
Reb Kittredge: I ran into a little trouble this morning. I had to leave my horse back up the trail.
Rita: If I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, I’d say you still had him with you.
Years ago, I gave the original watercolor painting to Ross Lomas, the talented bass player in the iconic punk band GBH, recognizing the deep connection between art and music. I hope it is saved upon a wall somewhere, gathering dust and smiles as framed watercolors usually do through the years, bringing joy to anyone who glances its way.
It’s a piece that embodies not only the vibrant spirit of the punk scene but also the personal memories tied to that moment, reminding me of the wild energy of the concerts and the camaraderie we shared. I often wonder if it sparks any nostalgia in Ross, eliciting fond memories of our times together as it quietly hangs there, a testament to the creative journeys we embark on.
Some wild things can’t be tamed. Technology can run everything. Water the ranch, exercise the horses in a roundabout electrical mill.
Open and close corrals and even power motorcycles.
Though plastics are bad for the environment, large plastic blown up balloons, while being devoured, can explode, and destroy monsters from the inside out before transforming into nasty beautiful wild alien ships.
Praying Mantis in the Film NOPE causing considerable trouble… clip image taken from the film.
The film’s narrative is different than the contract I signed for a simple image used on a T-shirt design that is difficult to see in the film. Just knowing it is there, inside sources tell me, makes participation thrilling. A cornucopia of delight. Just A pixel in the process of this film.
Tito Larriva Los Plugs. Oct/8/2021 Origin ID-AHCA Alex Bovaird t-shirt. 1978- Los Angeles Flipside # 10 Photo Al Flipside.
Took me awhile to see NOPE Waited to see it at home. Now that theaters are not spacing for a slow to die pandemic, I just don’t feel ready to see a film in a theater. Yet… for a few bucks we saw it On Demand.
I really enjoyed the film. Overall good stuff, deep and culturally clever with good humor on the dark side. Here are some points that touched base for me in this film.
Seeing the old Fry’s Electronics Building with the crashed UFO theme was great. A Fry’s electronics specialist, Angel Torres, is a character and part of this film’s narrative. He gets pulled into the wild adventure mixing technology with old-fashioned filming.
We went there often when we lived in Van Nuys. (I thought it was Van Nuys… very close the Burbank) Yet locally I also enjoyed our local Alice in Wonderland theme, the science-fiction movies still is my favorite. (RIP)
“Various Fry’s locations were decorated in elaborate themes. For example, the Burbank store, which opened in 1995, carried a theme of 1950s and 1970s science-fiction movies, and featured huge statues of popular characters such as the robot Gort from The Day the Earth Stood Still and Darth Vader from the Star Wars movie series. In addition, giant ants (from the movie Them!) hung from the ceiling, and the bodies of 1957 Chevys and Buicks served as dining tables in the cafe. A flying saucer protruded above the entrance.”
~Fry’s Electronics From Wikipedia
Photo By: Edward Tovmassian
The environment where this film takes place is on a horse ranch in Agua Dulce, California.
An impressive open area to visit. We have taken drives up there often. Finding roads leading to highways along the coastal regions. Long lonely, amazing drives and finding California State Route 14. And my favorite is the high-flying open range of Hudson Ranch Road.
NOPE starts leisurely as a Sam Peckinpah film, starting out slowly and discovering a great crescendo at the end.
Jordan Peele seems to be on a wave I like, from doppelgängers to UFOs, horses, and a cameo from one of my favorite creature of the cosmos The Praying Mantis. “Who causes considerable” trouble in this film.
“That is a very Earthling question to ask, Mr. Pilgrim. Why you? Why us for that matter? Why anything? Because this moment simply is. Have you ever seen bugs trapped in amber? “
“Yes. “
“Well, here we are, Mr. Pilgrim, trapped in the amber of this moment. There is no why.”
― Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five
Funny, today I see that the DESCENDENTS are playing at The Glass House Pomona CA, while Elton John is playing Dodger Stadium. So, at the same time things are happening. Time is roundabout and bending backwards and forwards. A foot in these “Amber Moments” again.
I first remember finding out about Elton John. My best friend’s sister turned us on to him. Mad Man Across the Water was a LP we soaked into our beings.
Playing DESCENDENTS The Fat EP. I played it on Flipside Radio where I was the DJ because the band was making rounds sending out their records.
In the neighborhood where my husband grew up. I have seen a few shows at the Tarzana joint Maui Sugar Mill Saloon. Dale Watson, keeper of the true country music flame is singing there tonight.
I feel “Amber Moments” are ganging up on me today.
I like how life long ago seemed more linear in its dimension. Life seemed like an event moving forwards. People and places belonged to each other, and a punk scene to promote. Ya went out and your friends were always there. Anchoring is a good thing.
The best friend now is those darn “Amber Moments,” as ornery reflective as it sounds.
I don’t want to go to Dodger Stadium so big and full of people. I want the intimacy of making a big salad with my girlfriends again, after a long ride on our horses, blaring our Elton John songs.
I don’t want to drive out to Pomona, damn what a horrid drive that is. I want to hang out with the band during an interview and be greeted as a friend not some faceless fan.
Mike Ness said in 2019 as he looked into the audience at the Five Point Amphitheater Irvine, CA. (another horrid drive.)
“I look out and I see fans, if it wasn’t for all of you the place would be empty.”
Mike was too obscure to say hi that night, but our long-ago friendship turned into an empty fan like any other, which kind of does me fine now. Mike is too big for his britches to see me face to face. Only through a manager.
Drinking at bars ain’t what it used to be. My son is on his first Geology field trip, my husband is at work and my oldest is busy with something.
The cats and I are simmering in those “Amber Moments.” A painful bending time of backwards and forwards. I wish it would goddammit stop.
Groovy oldest son has come to take me out to breakfast.
Denny’s
out in the public again,
waitress, coffee and son…
yummy food
life can balance out again.
Lots of talking about everything.
Little kids smiling,
Unwrapped once more
but I know,
“Amber Moments” well wrap me in a spider’s web again.
“Friends is a 1971 British-French teen-romance film directed and produced by Lewis Gilbert and written by Gilbert, Vernon Harris, and Jack Russell. The soundtrack, with music composed by Elton John and Paul Buckmaster and lyrics written by Bernie Taupin, was released as John’s Friends album, and John’s recording of the title selection charted when released as a single in the United States.”
It was at the Art Theater where I saw the original film, Friends, 1971. The theater housed in between a Thrifty’s Drug Store and a Hamburger Hamlet. A nice little theater at the corner of Ventura Blvd and Topanga Canyon.
My older brother Greg took me to see it. He was always a good brother back then. We walked to the theater. I remember the film and the soundtrack having a big impression on me. It was a coming-of-age film. The film was about love and wisdom. The soundtrack was excellent.
I think we finished it up with a three-scope ice cream cone.
Greg often took my brother Gus and I out to see films. I will never forget Bambi Meets Godzilla in Westwood. It was a revolution for us.
My girlfriends and I grew up with Elton John songs and often sang them when riding our horses over the Santa Monica Mountains.
