Little boys become big boys in only a few years… Photo by Hudley
I see life growing around me, changing and there are so many new stories to tell… but with procrastination comes a hallow, a shadow of watching and waiting for you to move forward to the honey!!
Today one of my kid’s longtime friends, Sebastian-across the street, came over to say hello. They have been friends since the 4th grade. We had not visited with him for a couple of years. The first thing he asked me was,
“Have you published your book?”
“No… not yet… ah.”
“Oh you haven’t found a publisher yet?”
I remember that he was always curious about what I was doing on my little laptop computer about 6 to 8 years ago. I then excused myself to take the groceries in. Darn kids are great and when they become young men they are clear, strong and to the point. I have been procrastinating. I finished the book years ago. It has a good solid foundation but needs a lot of editing and embellishment. Since then many books have been published on this particular subject of mine.
Kindling, wood and log support can help chase away evil procrastination…
Boredom, disillusionment and losing both my parents put a real damper on my need to promote it or even work on it. I also had a couple friends turn into Dementors and almost suck my very identity from me. The face of trust eludes me these days, but Sebastian has given me the extra acknowledgment, reflective push and ambush to rekindle the fire in my will to move forward again. Kindling, wood and log support can help chase away evil procrastination.
“Lord, there goes a Buick forty-nine
Black sheep of the angels riding, riding down the line
We think there is a soul, we don’t know
That soul is hard to find.”
Posted in "In the beginning there was a void except for the written word." The Avengers (Band)
Tagged Books, Daily Prompt: Procrastination, entertainment, Fanzines, Hudley Flipside, literature, people, postaday, the written word, Underground, Women, Writing
Your sacred path to discovering the gifts, talents and abilities of the feminine through the ancient teachings of the sisterhood.
A Wild and crazy guide for celebrating your true self. I am glad I found this book. It affirms what I have always known, that I am an introvert. Yes, we are outnumbered by extroverts. Artists and writers tend to be more inclined to go within for their enjoyment. I like staying at home and I am on the wild side, just like most domesticated cats. If you get the time please get this book because it is an informative and delightful read. It takes all types to make up the world. The reason some people have parties for their birthdays with the whole zoo and those that don’t is OK. Those of us that like the more private life do so happily…. and so it is..
Holly and Sony near Mulholland Highway and Canoga Ave 1972
“a mile wide and a foot deep, too thick to drink, too thin to plow; Powder River let ‘er buck!”
An Old Cowboy call … now Raphalia’s call across the valley to tell me it was time to ride.
You might think that two girls that had a couple of horses might come from rich families. This was not the case. The road I lived on was dirt until I turned about 13. That is when my Dad got me a white mustang I named Sony. My brother Greg and brother-in-law Bob built a corral below my parent’s home. They put turpentine on the base of the two-by-fours, these were the base ends of the corral to house Sony. That corral stood up fine for many years after Sony and I left.
At the time it was about me and my focus on getting that horse and going for a ride, but I guess it was a family project that pushed and waved through the family with different temperaments. At least that is how I see it now. My Dad was retired in his fifties from his career in cosmology. He had his own salon called Javis’s Hair Salon downtown Woodland Hills. Now he worked at home and at some local beauty parlors in the area to support the family. My mom was a full time house wife and during the winter worked at my aunts boutique girls clothing store. Boy did I get shit for that in middle school,
“Your aunt owes Prima Donnas?”
“My mother can not afford that type of clothing,”
Of course all the popular girls went there and that just made me sick.
My aunt’s store was right next door to my Dad’s place that was now rented out. My Grandmother was quite the woman and had foresight, she made sure her kids had some land to grow up on.
Raphalia (aka Ruff) was younger than I and had a horse named Raubie. Her mom was German. She and her sister filled out a greencard each year and she came from a broken family. Her mom was a surgical-nurse and married a doctor and then moved into the neighborhood. I called her Ruff and we got along good. We went riding together often. Her parents built a corral next to their home as well. SO the neighborhood got pretty horsey. At the time houses were still spread apart and there was lots of land, rolling hills and trees around. The big horse flies that came round summer bugged the hell out of my mom. Before I came in the house my mom would make me take off my clothes and put on house clothing. I guess I did smell bad. Ruff and I did go bareback riding most the time.
Ruff did a lot of reading. She liked to tell stories too. While on long rides we told stories together. It was the never-ending story. I would begin and then she took over and so it went. We often road above the hills of Mulholland. The adventures we had were unbelievable wild. Some of the Native American stories that Ruff would read would give her interesting ideas on how to ride a horse. She braided Raubies’s abandoned horse hair into a bridle. This was placed around Raubie’s mouth and this is how she controlled him.
There were large dirt hills and mounds on Mulholland drive where guys would dirt bike. We would hold onto the back of our horses with our thighs with hands up and run our horses down a hill on a dare. Often one of us would fall off our horse. I experienced the fall in slow motion and then the ground wold grasp and pull me down fast. We learned to fall in the form of tumble weeds and sometimes my horse Sony would keep running. My mom would look and see Sony running into the corral. In an hour I would follow. I would either walk home or Ruff would give me a ride on the back of Raubie depending on the mood she was in.
Until next time with the Adventures of Sony and Raubie ~next Beer, Ginger Ale and Gristle.
Posted in The Adventures of Sony and Raubie
Tagged 1970, Books, Horses, Mulholland drive, nature, Oral Tradition, poems, the written word, Underground, Women, Woodland Hills, Writing
This is an honest and open book about all women’s unique bodies. Photographer Rosanne Olson brings a collection of images of women and their bodies. Her books includes women of all ages, shapes and sizes. Each image takes on the personality of what one woman has to express about her life and unique body. The most inspirational quotes strike a chord of familiarity.
As 38-year-old Faye reflects, “A favorite uncle of mine who disagrees with my tattoos likes to say that the body is a temple. I reply that my tattoos are the stained glass of my temple.”
Another woman Silja who is 35 says, “I believe the advertising industry has done more to damage women’s self-concepts, happiness, and body image than almost anything else, including pornography and parental and peer influence. Music videos seem to run a close second.”
The point being, you will find a woman to identify with in Olson’s graceful and revealing masterwork.