“I like too many things and get all confused and hung-up running from one falling star to another till I drop. This is the night, what it does to you. I had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion.”
~ Jack Kerouac
I grew up during the 60s, 70s and 80s. I was 30 years old when I was bumped blindly into a world of a new education. Each generation I lived though, I loved. As a song, friend or lover, which in fact… all three generations supplied me with abundantly.
I fell into the late 70s punk scene blindly and without any ambition but the rebellious call of youth and ideology built on an underground scene. Yet what I witnessed in the 60s was wildness of a different rebellion. I miss the hitchhiker’s ways. People on the streets at every corner. I felt safe and awake.
Then as I have written before, the end of the 70s brought the multiple attacks of serial killers and we all pulled into ourselves. Now I drive by the many blocks where I grew up and see all the streets are empty. Cars and more cars blindly drive right through my memories of those street kids. They were just hanging and talking. They improvised life without any hand-held device. Only the feel of a hand.
I feel the need to move to a new place where there are no memories. I did it at the end of the 80s. I left to a place of no memories for a short time.
As a culture we have become so pulled into ourselves. I am guilty of this as well. I am not blind to what is going on yet, I am getting to old to do anything about it.
“The Greek poet Orpheus carried Willow branches as a symbol of the inspiration this sound gave.”
I pause outside as bee and lady bug fly around.
Sweet is the nectar from
lemon tree and lavender.
Letting go of worries and
desires that do not serve me now.
An old friend, a song, comes to mind
as my "leaves in the wind."
Perfect are old recorded songs
and the insect, flower and tree!
Somehow as I pause in breathing,
I am lost in this perfection.
The recurring of pause of being,
the repetition of listening to old songs
the heartfelt listening and watching nature,
Is my catalyst for artistic expression.
Never to let us down !!
Posted in "In the beginning there was a void except for the written word." The Avengers (Band)
Tagged Alternative music, Art, beauty, Daily Prompt, Goddess and Home, nature, poetry, postaday, punk rock music, spirituality, Women
Triangular poem…. by Hudley
The best I have achieved in life is to follow things through. It can be a project, a meeting or supporting a friend. I can follow through with a yes or a no.
This is a good feeling. I love to follow through with an event. Sometimes this means doing the laundry in one day. Gathering, washing, folding and putting everything away.
Going shopping, cooking and cleaning up. Having a dream and making it happen. These are the qualities that I am capable of. Many wonderful things that make life better.
Even in the face of diversity, steaming contraries, and politics. I have the capacity to live a decent life.
I walked around the city. I experienced the cold winds of youth. I had a cup of coffee. These are the freedoms I am capable of achieving now.
The cats are hogging in front of the monitor. I look out the crack of my window. There are the waxing gibbous moon and Venus. Venus and her holy grail. What is she pouring in her bright light tonight?
Some of the houses have lost their Christmas glow. Not ours. We still have the spiraling light moving around the front door. I still wonder what Venus is pouring in her bright cup tonight?
A very quiet night tonight. Maybe I will attend and old buddies music show? Maybe I will watch a film. I already took a walk. Shall I eat the seasoned sweet potatoes with honey, olive oil and hot sauce? Venus can I see what you are pouring into the crescent moon this evening ?
I started out indifferent this morning. Why can’t I feel anything about this new year? Now I feel something in my belly. It is starting to grow. A slow swing ride. Excitement and hope, shall I create some art with my hope and excitement? Where are my water colors, ink, erasers and pencil. Cats, please get out of my way, I can not see what I am typing. How many others are wondering about Venus and the Moon tonight? How gracefully she holds her grail this night. What magic does Venus pour?
“Eventually, Echo, too, began to waste away. Her beauty faded, her skin shriveled, and her bones turned to stone. Today, all that remains of Echo is the sound of her voice. “
Hudley Clown party ’83
The echo of music is all that is left of the experience we shared. Just like Echo, we begin to waste away. Knowing the melting of my brain towards this reality, is something we all face. Is there comfort in the echo of music?
Yes there is!
It can be like an old friend that does not age. It is like an eternal echo from the past that is consistent with the present and beyond.
Lyrics echo this and books echo that.
Memories are echoes in my mind. I can go over the memories again and again.
I miss so many scenes and groups of people who have gone. I still hear the sounds of their voices but they are not there. People, places and things that hold on with an echo.
That eternal echo of music, clubs and beer.
Screaming, dancing and holding friends near!
Dear long friendly echoes.
A funny thing happened while watching the Alfred Hitchcock Hour last night. The Photographer and the Undertaker (1965) was the episode I watched. I realized I had viewed it before, but today it had a new meaning. As I watched the show I was also researching Jack Cassidy. He is the main character of the episode. He is the original Mad Man character actor. He was married to actress Shirley Jones. After their divorce, he seemed to melt down into alcoholism and mental health issues. I’m saddened by my research because to me he always seems like a sharp, upbeat and intelligent swinger. He has a deep history in music and brilliant acting career. It is his demise that shocked me.
Shirley Jones & Jack Cassidy
In this episode, or story, Cassidy’s character is a photographer who gets wise to a scheme that he is a focus of a hit man. He is scheduled to be killed. Cassidy turns it around and catches the hit man at his own game and kills him. To cover the evidence, he burns his darkroom down. In the news it is confirmed the next day. The photographer is burned to death. Cassidy’s character collects the money from the man who hired the hit man and assumes a new life. A great story with some ironic twists and turns.
As I was watching the story unfold I was thinking how clever Cassidy’s character was, and how he cheated death, something hit me hard. As I watched the flames burn the dark room and the hit man….I realized something. At that moment I read something profound. Ten years later, in real life, this is how Jack Cassidy dies (1976).
Cassidy returned to his apartment alone, by which time he was drunk, as he had consumed alcohol at various bars across West Hollywood that evening. In the early morning hours of December 12, Cassidy lit a cigarette and fell asleep on his Naugahyde couch.  He then dropped the cigarette, which ignited the couch. The flames quickly spread throughout the apartment and the building.  At 6:15 a.m., the blaze was discovered by Deputy Sherriff Jon Dimeter, who evacuated the building and entered Cassidy’s apartment. A charred corpse was found in the doorway of the apartment. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jack_Cassidy
I felt a terror over come me. What a strange revelation to perceive. I quickly said a prayer for the man. Last night he whispered a short story in my heart of his ironic demise.
Posted in "In the beginning there was a void except for the written word." The Avengers (Band), extramundane
Tagged Alfred Hitchcock Hour, Alternative music, Art, beauty, Daily Prompt, Hudley Flipside, Jack Cassidy, postaday, Women, Writing
The sun let’s go slowly each night. Jupiter appears all of a sudden in the twilight. In the distance dark tree leaves shimmer in between as light twilight flows as a river; breathing, dancing moving as the sun dies this day.
“Hello Jupiter!” All reflected down below in a common blue pool.
Surprise. A new light next to Jupiter silently sustains in the twilight sky. Opening slowly a pulling glow. It is gone. No trail, no sound to its presence there.
Just in the remembrance here.
Cowardice is the lack of courage to face danger, difficulty, opposition, pain, etc. I think we all have times when we experience this type of behavior. I admire others, and myself, who stand tall and cross the line, regardless. Yet, there are times when cowardice can be a dark projection from others. I think every time we become aware of these feelings we should stop and listen to them. Not do what others say we should do, but what we feel is the right thing to do for us.
I was in pain. My head ached. I knew my blood pressure was high. I was hot too. Early in the morning I went to the pool. I stood up to my waist in the cool water. I viewed rounded water ripples radiating out from me. The water hit the side of the pool, across from me, and the ripples radiated back to me. What a simple thing to notice this morning. At one time the two ripples rippled and met together, a joining. I am sure there is a mathematical equation that oldest son might know, yet I am happy to just see it as something predictable but unique.
I viewed a dragon-fly flying circle eights over me and then around the pool. Spirals and circle eights over and over again is the dance of the single dragon-fly. Then quickly, in the wink of an eye, the dragon-fly touched the water with a slight pinch. The dragon-fly took just enough water, in moderation, as not to fall into the water. How delicate and beautiful is the dragon-fly. Dragon-fly did this many times as it danced around the pool.
Even though my head was still in pain, I was instantly refreshed when I dived into the cold water, My cowardice feeling, to not dive into the pool, was overtaken by my own will to feel better. Then as I swan to the other end of the pool, I saw a large dark moth floating dead on the water.
I intuitively can still hear the lesson that nature whispered in my heart at that moment. It is time for me to be as the moderate dragon-fly. Avoiding the life of an overindulging black moth. There was a time when overindulgence was fun and exciting. Now I shall try to dance spirals and circle eights. A slight pinch or sweet sips from life will have to do.
Posted in Nature Politics
Tagged beauty, circle eights, Cowardice, Daily Prompt, Depth Psychology, dragon-fly, Esoteric, Goddess and Home, moth, overindulgent, postaday, Spirals, Subculture, Women
Last night we were watching some CNN history book program. Unfortunately, I continued to listen to the next author’s memoir of his personal days with Ronald Reagan and side kick Nancy. I try to keep an open mind about these things. Oh boy, did I hear some amazing lies. What really got me thinking was what this speaker said about Ronald’s side kick Nancy. I guess, a media shot was needed that would project her as a housewife, or as a supporting and loving wife, who cooked in the kitchen. The story told was kind of said and kind of funny. It seems that side kick Nancy would not pose for her picture because she would not put on, or wear, an apron. This is what she said…
“Me cook, I never cooked a meal in my life!”
My mouth opened and I drooled a bit. It seems amazing to me. A truth that not many people would know about.
Side kick Nancy, actress, mother and wife…
never cooked a meal in her life.
I understand while living in the White House one’s needs are taken care of. Tax payers do pay for chefs, janitors, maids etc. It comes with the territory. I guess, this means she most likely never cleaned a toilet either?? (drum roll… and bang)
I plan, shop, cook and clean up for all of the meals in my home. I pay my taxes too. A mere weed and peasant I am; I am…
Hudley the kitchen witch…
Posted in "In the beginning there was a void except for the written word." The Avengers (Band)
Tagged a Housewife, apron, chefs, Daily Prompt, deprive, Flopside Comics, Goddess and Home, Humor, Nancy Reagan, postaday, Ronald Reagan, Subculture