Hiawatha and Dionysus

Thyrsus detail of Bacchus and Ariadne by Angelica Kauffmann (1741-1807)

As seeing the history of our earth and the water of the earth.

As seeing nature and the growing things and vines and the wildness of this planet.

I think upon the goodness and wisdom of Hiawatha and Dionysus.

Both connected to the earth are the best ones to learn from.

As we see politically, globally, and as human beings we need to listen to them now more than ever.

They teach me to listen to nature, that magic is a gift, and our friends are closer than we realize.

The Dionysian Thyrsus is a powerful compelling campaign addressing the wonder of life and the earth and harmony. It is all within us and outside of us.

Hiawatha speaks to the wind and in our souls of the equality of all things from minerals in rocks and out towards the star beings.

Balance and harmony, creativity and weaving our stories, hope and timeless ambition to run with the windiness of our nature.

Lady bugs to bear, mountain lions to the praying mantis.

Trees and the rivers, rain, and the thunder.

Love making to eating and dancing.

I call upon Hiawatha and Dionysus

I often believe you two are the same

Friends of humanity and the earth.


Hiawatha’s departure: Hiawatha sails Westward into the sunset



Photographic Print of Hiawatha/Longfellow. Hiawatha’s departure: Hiawatha sails Westward into the sunset © Mary Evans Picture Library Media ID 580113

My Three Solids until the day I die.

Punk Rock Historian and Professional Consultant

~ Hudley Flipside


Stephen Stills


Ed Kuepper by Hudley

Jock Blyth, Courtesy of Hudley Los Angeles Flipside Fanizne # 54 Anniversary Issue (Replica)

Stephen Stills “For What It’s Worth,” “Bluebird” and “Rock & Roll Woman” are three of my favorites moving songs performed by Buffalo Springfield’


“Nights in Venice,” “Demolition Girl “and “Church of Indifference” are just fucking profound songs.


Jock Blyth playing his hardcore punk sounds through “Freak,” “Pins and Needles” and “Stormchaser”


Songs that sample their sound… I love them through and through. Thanks!

Stephen Stills born Dallas–Fort Worth metroplex, the fourth-largest metropolitan area; Buffalo Springfield 1966–1968.

Ed Kuepper: Edmund Kuepper was born on 20 December 1955 in Bremen, then part of West Germany. His family migrated to Australia in the 1960s and settled in Brisbane. The Saints 1976-1979.

Colin “Jock” Blyth: GBH were early pioneers of British street punk, often nicknamed “UK82”, along with Discharge, Broken Bones, The Exploited, and The Varukers (Charged) GBH: 1978–present.

As I awoke from my existential childhood there are three guitarists who have had a profound wake-up call on my soul, body, and mind. From generations the 60s through to the present. Making me happy how these three guys are still moving around the planet and continue to play their songs.

Though I never had the privilege of meeting Stephen Stills, or Ed Kuepper I have met Jock Blyth.

I am friends with Ed on Facebook and Instagram and maybe my annoyance as a fan has zapped him now and then. Because my only addiction is the band The Saints.

I don’t ride my generations as a cult but as scenes mingling amongst sounds and friends. In real time, life and on the internet. The 1960s, 1970s and beyond had the most influence on my life as the DNA that makes up my soul. As an older senior citizen, I am pretty well saturated. Open and way past the need to wake up now it is the sound of these three that calm me, set me free and make me feel bitchin’.

I was overwhelmed and happy watching Billy Porter perform “For What It’s Worth” with Stephen Stills at the 2020 Democratic National Convention. Or seeing Buffalo Springfield on an old episode of Mannix from the 1960s.

Or being moved deep down when listening to Ed perform The Aints song “You’ll Always Walk Alone” on You Tube.

Or watching Jock talk about Tripel is a beer style with roots in the Belgian Trappist beer tradition on Facebook as GBH tours Northwestern Europe.

Now all within the comfort of my cave.





The Gift of Magic

No one can really possess a symbolic object since the prime function of symbolism is not accumulation and retention, but communication by way of exchange.

de Riencourt, Amaury. Woman and Power in History . Honeyglen Publishing Limited. Kindle Edition.


A journey after reading a random pick from Jung’s Black Books. During these disturbing times I often seek council with these living books of wonder.

While reaching for my Red Book a note fell to the ground and it said,

“The Gift of Magic.”

I was following through with Jung’s commentary after reading his Black Book. I was amazed by the depth of the commentary which is about Magic. I am surprised by the beauty of these living books. I started to read all the commentary pertaining to this random subject in his Red Book. It is a story which answered many things for me while also somehow including my life. Reading the references and commentary is the best.

Jung Black Books: Random pick of paragraph from [v.4]

S. Are you sending me away?

I. I’m sending you away. You must not be far from me. But give to me out of your fullness, not your longing. I cannot satisfy your poverty just as you cannot still my longing. If your harvest is rich, send me some fruit from your garden. If you suffer from abundance, I will drink from the brimming horn of your joy. I know that will be a balm for me. I can satisfy myself only at the table of the satisfied, not the meager crumbs of those who yearn and desire. I will not steal my payment. Pg. 253 [v.4] (126/127).

126.The subject of this sentence was replaced by “We fetched.” (ibid)

127. For Jung’s commentary on this entry, see LN {Red Book}, pg. 439-40.

Red Book.

“Well, all you will do is laugh anyway. So why should I tell you anything? It would be if everything were buried with me. It can always be rediscovered later. It will never be lost to humanity since magic is reborn with each and every one of us.” Pg. 313

“You know, the wisdom of things to come; there fore you are old, oh so very ancient, and just as you tower above me in years, so you tower above the present in futurity and the length of your past is immeasurable. You are legendary and unreachable. You were and will be, returning periodically. Your wisdom is invisible, your truth is unknowable, entirely untrue in any given age and yet true in all eternity, but you pour out living waters from which the flowers of your garden bloom, a starry water, a dew of the night. 148/149 pg. 316

“What do you need. You need men for the sake of small things, since everything greater and the greatest thing is in you. Christ spoiled men, since he taught them that they can be saved only by one, named him, the Son of God, and ever since men have been demanding the greater things from others, especially their salvation; and if a sheep gets lost somewhere, it accuses the shepherd.  You are a man, and you prove that men are not sheep, since you look after the greatest in yourself and hence fructifying water-flows into you garden from inexhaustibly jugs.”

I will continue to study this yet this is enough for now.


The Call Of the Holy Baubo Protagonist!

The call of holy Baubo is strong now

The evil shadow of history comes forward again…

The highest court of our land is making it impossible for women to care for their own bodies. When women are deflowered or devalued it is time to look at the other sex… the male, especially all conservative moronic males, and their bitches…. Time to address their sperm and ask the big question,

“If a man gets a woman pregnant without the holy affirming blessing of the great Baubo herself, then off with his balls, or head … whichever. What do you think about that justice?”

Baubo’s theme song…. always and forever.


Chris Bailey’s psychic being is still very strong!

Rendering of the band The Saints. Hudley Flipside, 2010.


I have often written that the band The Saints are one of my only addictions in my life. After the death of Chris Bailey, I have been grieving him and a general time shift. The 70s, 80s, 90s, 2000s, 2010s and now. Over 40 years. This band led me on a path into a different realm of being. I found a bunch of misfits like myself. I found my voice and I awoke from a kind of existential youthful experience into finding myself and my soul. Music, friends, and a punk community that still holds my heart. Yet also knowing Chris Bailey was born the same time and so close to mine … we share these same generations or ten-year changes. Youth to adulthood and being senior citizens. As this post explains so much more in an indirect way too. In my grief I decided to do something that I do once in awhile to sooth my soul. I reached out to Carl Jung books. What came to mind yesterday was something from one of Carl Jung’s Black Books. Volume two page 175-6. I read from the last paragraph. I call it a random reading. The intuitive response is amazing to me. Encouraging action also. So, with this so much is shared, and I am content to move on past my grief. Into a new season of life knowing that

“the world beyond, where men are whole and complete, unlike here. The saint’s halo also characterizes his transcendent shining light, his psychic being.” ” (p.162) The Black Books, Volume Two, Carl Jung

Life endures … this gives me hope maybe like finding the Sun!

“In this moment the enormous tension was released and like rain it swept away [57/58] everything that was tensed, too highly strung. And soon sleep returned and brought with it a curiously beautiful image.” {138}

“Forms walked clad in white silk in a colored atmosphere. Each surrounded by a strangely fragrant, glowing tinted aura, some reddish, the others blueish and greenish.” {139}

{138} “This paragraph was replaced in LN by “Then I had a second vision.” ” (p.162)


Picture.. reversed.
The Saints (Barry Francis, Ivor Hay, Janine Hall, Bruce Callaway, Chris Bailey) at The Hero of Waterloo, Sydney. 1980. Picture by Judi Dransfield Kuepper…) image taken from article by John Willsteed, https://theconversation.com/a-gentleman-with-the-mad-soul-of-an-irish-convict-poet-remembering-chris-bailey-and-the-blazing-comet-that-was-the-saints-181059?fbclid=IwAR3o-g8RRKpyNxgIQ6x7QsihP9fTBaDqaBZhzozuQI0oHlaWVenjLWeZ_F8

{139} “Jung recounted this dream to Aniela Jaffé and commented upon it as follow: “This is some kind of in-between realm (the term definitely occurs in the original version of the dream) The idea was that if one is confronted with the shadow- as was the case through the experience of Siegfried’s dream– then the idea comes: I enter into a twilight: I am this and yet also something else. And this doubleness an abdication of the unconscious, which reached strangely far beyond me. Like a saint’s halo– This has a strange effect on the attitude toward the human being. If one is in the company of several persons, and one knows them and knows about their shadows, one then sees these people as they are, but are also something entirely different. They are surrounded by a strange sphere. They live in a strange, light-colored sphere, which circumscribes their ‘other’ state. This seemed to me to be like a vision of the world beyond, where men are whole and complete, unlike here. The saint’s halo also characterizes his transcendent shining light, his psychic being.” (MP, p. 170) The reminder of this entry was replaced in LN by “I know, I have stridden across the depths. Through guilt I have become newborn.” ” (p.162)

Siegfried’s dream

http://mlwi.magix.net/siegfried.htm

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Black_Books_(Jung)


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

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.



We must explore!

The Naked Grace…


These times are asking us to go within. Over the generations we have taken this journey within. By choice, by accident and spiritually. Through drugs, side effects from prescribed medication or by magic.

A song can amplify this reality. A writer can share the experience. Songs filled with lyrics are poetry put to music. The images come forth and touch us. These three songs came to mind today when I was out in the garden pulling tall grass from the rich soil. It all came together. The dark earth holds things. Pulling on the grass and releasing the soil is a forward effort of movement. The dark moist earth has a relationship with our psyches.

I believe that unless we willfully take this inward journey as an individual it will be forced upon us. On a personal level or a generational level is how it goes. Anytime we suppress our shadow, blame others, or spread hate it is bound to a generation. Are we not observing this right now? Songs can help us. I need them like I need flowers in my garden or kitty cats to hug.

Here are three songs that explain this journey variable. From the 1960s Catch the Wind by Donovan is a peaceful song.  Dead Man’s Party by Oingo Boingo is an amazing song that shares some interesting historical mysteries.  The Forbidden Zone by Charged GBH, one dose and you take their hand into a strange journey of a musician’s psyche.

♦Donovan is an unusual songwriter and folk singer that touches upon the light side of our psyche. He reminds us to remember the beauty in life. It is around us and in us if we go looking for it. Our psyches do often look back at us. We can reflect on this soft beauty from time to time.

“When sundown pales the sky

I want to hide a while

Behind your smile

And everywhere I would look, your eyes I’d find.”

♦Oingo Boingo’s song is remarkably interesting and worth listening to intensely. As a young punk back in the late 1970s I had an Oingo Boingo badge on my jacket. I was approached by a couple of punk chicks who mocked me and belittled me for wearing it. A time when the first signs of punk cultism started to show its ugly face.

“I was struck by lighting, walkin’ down the street

I was hit by something last night in my sleep

It’s a dead man’s party who could ask for more

Everybody’s comin’, leave your body at the door

Leave your body and soul at the door.”

“For Crowley, who was a painter himself, the artist ranked above the magician on the totem pole of illumination, and he considered poetry and art as precious tools for transforming one’s innermost psychic visions.” Chapter Spencer Kansa, Pg. 92 Wormwood Star, The Magickal Life of Marjorie Cameron.

♥A wild journey inward to the shadowy psyche is found in the book City Baby from Highgate to Hawaii… Life, and GBH by Ross Lomas.

“This went on for hours. More and more of the same. It was incredibly intense. God and Jimi and Anne Carpenter and the devil and the fucking taxi driver, fighting over my soul right up to the point I passed out in exhaustion.” ~ Chapter neil sedaka, Pg. 120.

“Take my hand and we’ll explore,

The forbidden zone.

When you’re in your own tree,

But don’t know if anybodys home.”

Jimi Hendrix was playing guitar while Anne was a nun of salvation may show us that his journey was amplified by many elements as a fight for his soul. When the shadow opens to us it is always a powerful trip. I find that Ross most likely is stronger for his experience. A bite like this prepares us for real outward tragedies as we are facing today.




Imagine it all coming together again. No

Prince Buster

( Sorry to say Covid-19 hit and this event was canceled. 2020 )

Amazingly we are still alive. Punk Rock Bowling with the celebration of 40 Years of the Circle Jerks and Charged GBH this spring. I am besides myself with joy to be attending. Yes, all the bands seem interesting, yet my history also includes Madness.

Madness:

When I was a 19-year-old punk I was looking for a 45 by Prince Buster entitled Madness. This stirred me on a strange journey to a Los Angeles record store. They never could locate that 45 for me. Then the band came touring. At least the name of the band was right. Playing the Whisky A Go Go.

I remember dancing to the band with Kick Boy Face from SLASH MAGAZINE (my first Punk Rock correspondence.) (Slosh and Flopside) It was grand beyond grand. Imagine it all coming together again.

Punk Rock Bowling 2020

Some of my best punk memories.

Ross’s bass guitar case. GBH 1980s

GBH:

I am standing in this image next to Ross’s first bass guitar case. He gave it to me. He bought a new one. I lost it. Yet, my mom had put it in a special place.

After her death we cleaned out the basement and their it was. How happy that mom preserved some wonderful punk history.

I still have it and will give it “will it” to my sons. I love it like punk rock. I hope I am not sucking on Ross’s “tits” when I say I love him too.

Thanks for thinking of me back then. All the best and looking forward to Las Vegas for a week of punk and beyond bliss.

Circle Jerks:

FLipside Fanzine
Circle Jerks Cover by Edward Colver



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.