Wicked Men



I watched two films last night. The films are Wicked Woman and Zorba the Greek. In general, both are particularly excellent films. One is a 1950s Film Noir, and the other is a cultural film from the 1960s.

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

As a woman I captured a motif. It came forward and it uncomfortably struck up against my conscious feminine. Both films are from a winning male psychology.

The men can fuck up, screw up, cheat, lie and even kill. They get away with it and so have a happy conclusion. Almost unaware as they walk over all the women in their lives.

The women on the other hand always get the short end of the stick.

They get let down, lied to, abandoned, used, and killed.



In the film Wicked Woman Beverly Michaels as Billie Nash is an independent woman who is on the move to find a place to put her roots. Roots within a man and a place in the sun. Billie keeps playing One Night in Acapulco by Buddy Baker, on the jute box.

She is tall, smart, and has a graceful walk. Men are after her the whole time. The one time she focuses on a man, he takes her for a fool, and they plan a sinister plot that fails!

Richard Egan, as Matt Bannister gets off the cheating hook and Billie is extorted, seduced, and must split on a bus.

She must beat it.

She is the Wicked Woman that gets the blame. Billie is smart and helpful, yet the man traps are all around her.

As a bar server she is wise with her words as every man tried to get her. She even helps her victim drink all the alcohol she wants even though her husband says no.

This bar did not have mixed drinks, only shots and beer. I like Billie’s character and understand her.

As a woman I cannot tell you how many times I had to take the short end of the stick and leave on a train or bus for something I did not do.

Even if she is guilty so is Matt and his drunk ass wife. Even Matt’s alcoholic wife sides with her husband over her friendship with Billie.

I think the two dames in this narrative should have been wiser and just told Matt to go screw.

They could have sold the joint and headed for Mexico.

To lie in the sun a little bit, drink and have fun.

As Billie said,

“They like women with Blonde hair and light skin in Mexico.”



Anthony Quinn as Alexis Zorba is our male Zorba the Greek. The film is a cultural phenomenon. It is what it is in an absurd way with a very excellent soundtrack.

The hard-edge Greek patriarchy is saturated with tradition. A village that is self-sufficient with a thread of history and honor.

Every man in this film is an asshole except the town fool.

Zorba is a creative natural genius that has a compassion that is appropriate at times. He teaches Sirtaki to Basil, Alan Bates.

A wonderful Greek dance which shows how Zorba relieves his pain of living life while confronting death. Charming in a way.

Lola, Madame Hortense, and the Widow are parts of this film if only indirectly put among the friendship between Basil and Zorba.

It is correct when Zorba tells Basil that the whole town of men are jealous, and all want the widow. A lovely young thing.

Like all the men wanting Billie in the Film Wicked Woman. In this case the lovely young woman is trapped, stoned, and then has her throat cut.

Premeditated murder by a whole community of men and their old crone women. They are jealous of her youth and beauty.

Madame Hortense dies in this film thinking she is married to Zorba to cover up for his earthy affair with a younger woman named Lola.

Regardless of this unbelievable cruelty the men dance away their pain.



These two films are part of the winner male psychology, a complex construct that often shapes perceptions of masculinity and the roles men play in society. As a young girl growing up, I had this crap dumped down my sensitive unconscious psyche. This kind of male world reflects not only the ideals and aspirations embedded in these narratives but also the expectations placed upon men to conform to certain archetypes.

The portrayal of masculinity in these films can be both fascinating and troubling, as it presents an array of behaviors and philosophies that influence real-life interactions and relationships.

I am glad I am wise to it now. Understanding these dynamics allows me to critically engage with the content rather than accept it at face value. I can enjoy these films for their place in history, recognizing their artistic merits while also acknowledging the underlying messages that may perpetuate outdated notions of gender.

This awareness brings a richer perspective to the viewing experience, enabling a deeper exploration of the themes presented.

Yet, I want to affirm to these men that they are playing against the feminine rules. The rules of engagement in this world are not solely dictated by traditional masculine values but involve a more nuanced interplay between genders.

It’s essential for men to recognize that the feminine experience offers insights that can enrich their understanding of connection and empathy. Acknowledgment of this duality can lead to healthier relationships and a more equitable society, one where both masculine and feminine attributes are celebrated rather than suppressed.

Or ignored all together.



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The Calendar

In memory of…

Sigrid Hudson Bishop

 “Eternity interrupts. It is as if there is a plane where there is clock time and then eternity puts its hand in for a minute and you have an archetypal experience. You have a feeling of what Jung said was “the infinite” and then very often the watch reacts to that.”



This is a short story about a friend. I find the best friends are not the ones that you make yourself but are the ones that find you. They stand the probability of time. They happen without planning and endure without much effort. She was like that. I first met her online on Facebook. We had common friends of friends. She was also interested in music as well as William Blake and Carl Jung. She showed up at my first speaking event at Whittier College.

Later she told me about a Punk event at UCLA college that I applied to and was accepted at. She was there for me and I shared many stories and my creations with her.

I think I inspired her to go to Pacifica Graduate Institute offering degrees in the clinical psychology, counseling, mythological studies and depth psychology.



At this time last year 2018, she offered me an extra William Blake calendar. I accepted it with honor. Every day I looked at the calendar and thought of her. Happy to have such a friend. Remarkable I am taken back by the last image of the calendar of The Archangel Michael Foretelling the Crucifixion.  She passed away December 2019.



I believe that crucifixion is symbolic of a person’s day of release from their physical body.

As friends, have our souls not spoken to each other?

I think so.


“They looking back, all th’ Eastern side beheld

Of Paradise, so late thir happie seat,

Wav’d over by that flaming Brand, the Gate

With dreadful Faces throng’d and fierie Armes:

Som natural tears they drop’d, but wip’d them soon; [ 645 ]

The World was all before them, where to choose

Thir place of rest, and Providence thir guide:

They hand in hand with wandring steps and slow,

Through Eden took thir solitarie way.



“To see a world in a grain of sand and heaven in a wildflower,

Hold infinity in the palm of your hand and eternity in an hour.”


In its highest sense.

To my friend Dionysus

“According to Jung, humanity holds a special role in creation: to contribute to the act of consciousness, and the point of view of morality, in its highest sense.”

~ Johnson, Robert A. Ecstasy (p. 64) Harper One. Kindle Edition.

Mindfulness and Raven

“… but rather that it is the intangible things that imprint on us and we imprint on others that are most important… allow that magic to spread to your soul and enlighten you spiritually.”

~ Bear Medicine Walker / omtimes.com



Raven

Raven Medicine https://www.pinterest.com/whytte/dream-catchers-mandalas-shields-medicine-wheels-fe/


Often our lessons in life come through illness. We all go through these experiences. As well as our ancestors, loved ones and friends have. My illness has taught me the mindfulness of others who have gone through similar experiences. A family member or a friend that went through illness and died. Wasn’t it Madam Blavatsky who said,

 An illness may be only a physiological illness, but I am experiencing mine more. My illness is in my heart. It is in my lungs and esophagus. The area of our hearts and lungs are what connect us to our friends, family, and ancestors.

As practicing mindfulness, it is helping me to see that all relationships are what Madam Blavatsky taught. Also, that we all have a dark and light side.

Today I am authoring an essay about two people who were, and still are, a big part of my life. I experienced their dark side and light side. Their joy and sadness are with me.

I am hoping that this Tibetan Buddhism subtle mindfulness will help my two relationships that have passed on. In return, helping me to let go of resentments and promote healing. As Raven from the Native American Medicine Wheel teaches,

Today my mindfulness is focused on two relationships, my longtime girlfriend Lynn, and my oldest brother Steven Jarvis. Both were independent, shy, and creative people. They both had an addiction. Lynn died of an overdose before she turned fifty.

Steven Jarvis was an alcoholic, and I was not close to him when he died so I do not know what illness killed him in his early seventies.

I am sad they are gone.

Now for the good part of this story. They both caused me pain, stress, and unhappiness. They also brought me so much fun, joy, and love. This also is a mindfulness of how they experienced me in life.

Lynn and I grew up playing as a profession. We were wild as the wind. Later in life she drove me and some other friends to high school every day. She had a little brown VW Bug. She always had a tape of Crosby Stills, Nash and Young on her cassette car radio.

Steven Jarvis was my brother who I looked up to as a kid. He was 11 years older than I was. I painfully watched as he left our home at 18. He was a movie extra for years. He was a lady’s man and sailed on his own sailboat to Hawaii.

He was a licensed scuba diving instructor. He took me sailing and I sat on the front tip or the ‘stuck.’  

Flying on the waves as a seagull. He had a Ford Falcon that he raced when he was younger. I learned about the Beatles listening to his 8-track tape of Rubber Soul while he worked on the engine with his cute friends. That is it…. mindfulness…


4th fave song… bunch of goons !

My 4th favorite song is Vandals – I Want To Be A Cowboy .

As a young punk all the words were being thrown around. Anarchy, chaos, discord and mayhem.

It rang around me via songs, voices and written lyrics and published fanzines. and punk friends. I never thought the ideals I supported would manifest via a gangster presidency?

These words were used as ways to inspire creative freedom. This words for me meant the ability to do things on your own terms to help others not to tear them apart.

To confront cruel authority, not to create a foundation for dictatorship or fascist tendencies.

So much for deconstructionist if born again AA punks’ side with the enemy. It is a wake up call for us all.

How to keep a conversation going is not always possible.

Humor as, it was only for a fun experience, can be thrown in there. Yet I am keeping my integrity at my hip. My mind set to do it myself. As always, it may not be popular.



Small Books


I am much better at taking criticism now than I was when I was in my twenties, a time when every piece of feedback felt like a personal attack. My worst critique is still my own mind, always analyzing and second-guessing my decisions.

As I reflect on my journey, my goal as a self-publisher is to forget about the notion that some other publisher is going to do the hard work for me or make the process easier.

I sometimes lull into that trap, fantasizing about the ease that traditional publishing might bring, but I realize that true fulfillment comes from embracing my independence and creativity. My goal is to be able to continue to do it my way, crafting my narratives and connecting with my audience on my own terms, while recognizing that every piece of feedback is an opportunity to grow rather than a source of self-doubt.



I would like to eventually print up, made from recyclable material,  small books. Hand-held books. Some hand-held hard cover books some not. I love small books. They are interesting to me.

“A chapbook is a type of popular literature printed in early modern Europe. Produced cheaply, chapbooks were commonly small, paper-covered booklets, usually printed on a single sheet folded into books of 8, 12, 16 and 24 pages.

They were often illustrated with crude woodcuts, which sometimes bore no relation to the text. When illustrations were included in chapbooks, they were considered popular prints.

The tradition of chapbooks arose in the 16th century, as soon as printed books became affordable, and rose to its height during the 17th and 18th centuries. Many different kinds of ephemera and popular or folk literature were published as chapbooks, such as almanacs, children’s literature, folk tales, ballads, nursery rhymes, pamphlets, poetry, and political and religious tracts.

The term “chapbook” for this type of literature was coined in the 19th century. The corresponding French and German terms are bibliothèque bleue (blue book) and Volksbuch, respectively. In Spain they were known as pliegos de cordel. The term “chapbook” is also in use for present-day publications, commonly short, inexpensive booklets.”


Daily Fuck Gazette Babbbbbbay! Summer Funnies



Don’t forget we have been spreading the satire for years… and have a few bubblegum Flopside COmics that highlight this complete unenlightened asshole of extreme degrees…

th (11)





Check all 13 on Friday the 13th 2018 … your fucking luckiest of days…..

pacifier

Spiritual and Musical Discernment.


It was a freeing time of spiritual and musical discernment. Black Rebel Motorcycle Club helped me through a rough time of heavy discernment. The magic of a great band.

I was going to university at Los Angeles Mount Saint Mary’s college. I attended 2002 to 2005. I enjoyed all the courses I enrolled in.

I left because the curriculum started to sway a bit off its ecumenical track. There was a kind of pressure starting to form about preferences over whether one was a catholic or not.

I became extraordinarily strong in my inter-religious perspective. I love studying history, culture, myths, and humanity. I was getting awfully close to finishing the master’s program. One course forced me to make a moral decision to leave the program.

I was on a remarkably interesting course on spiritual discernment. The course was taught by a sister / Nun who was rather old and taught the course more like a high school course than a master’s course.

I liked her, and she seemed filled with integrity until our confrontation about child abuse.

Currently, it was in all the news. The Los Angeles Sex Abuse cases. It was very troubling for me to behold.

My Two sons were 5 and 13. We were not attending the Catholic Church, but I was still incredibly angry.

The Sister said to the class that all of this “child abuse” will make the Church more authentic. I stood up and said,

“…but Sister one child is too many, how can this be?”

Sister looked at me and said,

“That is, your opinion!”

Overwhelmed, I finished the course. Heart-broken I left altogether.

In 2007 I read this in the news,” Catholic Church Settles Los Angeles Sex Abuse Cases for $660 Million.”

Shocked but I knew then that what I was feeling was my own spiritual discernment. Mine was right on.

I desired to become a chaplain and provide assistance to individuals without regard to their age, gender, or beliefs.

Yet, there is one thing that is unacceptable. I am glad I left the program.

At the end of the semester, I left the university and went to my first music event in a long time.

I attended the Wiltern Theater to see the Black Rebel Motorcycle Club. My hair was the color red and down to my butt.

I was on a new path again. I never went back to the Wiltern, but I did revisit lots of bands and shows since then.


Jerusalem

“For life moves out of a red flare of dreams
Into a common light of common hours,
Until old age brings the red flare again.”

~ The Land Of Heart’s Desire, William Butler Yeats



Retrospective action is part of a process which helps us find solutions to human problems. So much is going on in the world and in my personal world. Where does one seek or find balance? Meditation maybe? Exercising and eating properly, that might be part of the answer. There is more to hypertension than the human body. It seems a common reality in these dark political times shared by many!

While putting together some positive moves towards balance, I came upon a few old friends. One is a meditation site called freeMedation and an old poem by William Blake entitled Jerusalem. Yes, going back to healthy practices and inspired ideals.

Shocked by the inclusion of this particular rendition of Blake’s poem on this site, it is still very endearing to me. It is a poem set in a place and time that one can transcend using retrospective meditation.

The poem speaks to us. For is not Jerusalem the palace [place] of our heart’s desire?

Below is an image, a facsimile, from my Blake collection. It has vast symbolic layers.

“When the morning Stars sang together. & all the Sons of God shouted for joy”

Side stepping biblical perspective, this image holds reference to three important elements: The stars known as the Pleiades, humanity, and the cosmos. Our foresight needs to put roots into the ground as a solid anchor. This need is achieved by reaching with retrospective action. Thus, bringing together the past, present and future. A balance for our crazy times.

The image shows me understanding revealed in meditation. Therefore, I love Blake’s work.



Jerusalem by William Blake

Retrospective
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/afterthought/

My doppelgänger did not wave good-bye !

“Thus the connection of the animus with the shadow should be broken despite the fact that one arrives at the animus by way of the shadow. In fact you can never arrive at the animus unless you see the shadow.”

Pg. 9 The Animus Volume One. The Spirit of Inner Truth in Women. Barbara Hannab


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At this time last year, we went for a drive. On our way to San Francisco California. Our mission was to see some William Blake at a book library. They also had some Blake facsimiles for sale. Which I found irresistible. We took a roundabout way to get there. We ended up on the mighty Mammoth Mountains staying in a nice off-season hotel.

It was large and even had a kitchen. We went out later to have some sushi and a beer. Walking home at high altitude made me feel strange. The hotel had a fire outside in the courtyard. We sat and moved around the large fire. It felt wildly bizarre.

Then we entered the room and went to bed. I cannot sleep long on my sides, especially with a full belly. I have arthritis. There was a big couch near the fireplace in the hotel room.

I watched the fire and fell into a deep sleep.



I awoke to see myself looking at myself. My doppelgänger looked just like me but was fully dressed in the long dress coat I was wearing the night before.

Sitting down on the table before me, my doppelgänger was looking deeply into my eyes. I looked right back.

A haunting, mysterious overwhelming feeling of depth touched me that morning. A profoundly uncomfortable darkness addressed me as a presence.