There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Then are dreamt of in your philosophy.
– Hamlet (1.5.167-8), Hamlet to Horatio
Cerberus
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/educate/
Tag: Daily Prompt
The past memorizes everything…
The wild ways of being young, Not caring about anything, No reflection or ambition, Blind eye gratification, Lacking ways more brilliant, Dirt in toes, Grassy butt, Bloody elbow and broken weeds. Wild, wild, wild wonder.
I am using voice recognition. It’s a bit slow but I think it will get better. I like talking and writing. The words are slow and more thoughtful. Continuing projects is how I enjoy my life. A poem above about being wild and young.
1973
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/memorize/
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An unrecognized alien
You’ll have to get out of these little boxes, you know, physics on my left and psychology on my right, you can’t do that, you cannot do that in dealing with UFOs. What I’m saying is you cannot do that anymore in dealing with astrophysics. The problem that scientists have today is that time and space, the way we were thinking about them, don’t make sense when you begin to deal with particle entanglement and with entanglement of larger physical things. So we’re going to get to the same place eventually.
Dr. Jacques Vallée
Page 88 The SacriDcal Murder Carl Jung “Red Book” – Carl Gustav Jung / The Red Book
“But the way is my own self, my own life founded upon myself. The God wants my life. He wants to go with me, sit at the table with me, work with me. Above all he wanted to be ever-present. But I’m ashamed of my God. I don’t want to be divine but reasonable. The divine appears to me as irrational craziness. I hate it as an absurd disturbance of my meaningful human activity. It seems an unbecoming sickness which has stolen into the regular course of my life. Yes, I even find the divine superfluous.” Jung 78/98
I have not done this for a while. To randomly pick a book and open the page and read a paragraph. It is a type of trance effort. Some of the worst and best loved characters that I have read or studied live in a kind of trance world. A place of myth, magic and raised consciousness. William Blake, Carl Jung, and the pitiful creature known as Adolf Hitler. I am studying Hitler’s biography now. I was amazed how his and their lives moved in the same worlds.
The place of science, math and technology works in our modern age. The world of Blake, Jung and Hitler are different. One cannot superimpose our current world upon theirs. Which leads me to the randomly picked book and paragraph today.
Blake is a marvelous visionary and artist. He inspires humanity to think and brings beauty in reach of our grasp. Jung heals humanity with his depth psychology.
Hitler inverts compassion and goodness. He shows us what the worst part of human nature is.
They all use their unique wills to inspire or destroy.
Blake and Jung show us that humanity is a wondrous reality. They have dived into their unconscious and show us luminous stars and a good conscience.
We find our history and our future with inspired foresight; what it is to do good for humanity. Blake keeps the best and the worst at bay while focusing his will to ascend to transcendence.
Hitler did this too. To understand him, his world, one becomes aware of a trance of darkness; he is a mythologist of national German superhuman qualities…of what it is to be demonically insane! He is without a touch of the human soul or spirit! No sparks make him human. Hitler is the trance of a monster! How can anyone in their right mind address such a hideous freak as him with a salute?
William Blake ~ Europe, A Prophecy 8
“It is one of the wonders of human existence that a person can live a long and happy life without once becoming aware of the reality of consciousness and its ability to transcend the immediate physical level. At the instant of death, will time suspend its rule long enough for such people to realize what they missed?”
~ Pg. 153 Jacques Vallee, Confrontations; A scientist’s Search for Alien Contact.
I love Vallee. He is the scientist that places himself in the world of myth, magic and raised consciousness! He does not ignore art or music either. He rings the heart of a compassion that wants to know. He transcends a nationalist myth blending with Blake’s “universal humanity,” or Jung’s “collective unconscious.”
“In his late works, he embodied these and other ills in the nightmare ridden figure of the cosmic giant Albion, or universal humanity, who has fallen into deadly sleep of mundane existence. In humanity’s coma, the divine is a remote and forbidding sky-god: nature a sterile heap of atoms, lovers and family members, enemies; and one’s own innermost being, an unrecognized alien.”
~Blake’s Poetry & Designs ` A Norton Critical Edition.
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Can’t touch this pussy unless she lets ya….
My only problem is finding a way to play my fortieth fallen female in a different way from my thirty-ninth.
~ Barbara Stanwyck
Barbara Stanwyck is a jiffy dame. I got to get me some ‘good’ woman vibes today.
She’s the best because she is strong, intelligent, cunning and no bull. She shines a mischievous integrity that is always trying to come to a crescendo!
She is living in a man’s world with man’s rules. She plays her characters of depth and sincere sexuality that do not hide her honest vulnerability which is always mirroring the corruption around her.
It all wants to pull her down!
She is the kind of woman that keeps rising up to the occasion. Always at the top of her game! Barbara moves herself through film noir, comedy, murder and as the loving mother!
She is a friend, betrayer, lover, or crone.
I got a Barbara Stanwyck marathon just waiting to be watched. Today I will be cooking, cleaning, and creating as I am also keeping my high heart open! Barbara brings something good to our parallel universes! This is when life imitates art or art imitates life… whatever…
Crime of Passion with Raymond Burr and Sterling Hayden
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triumphant
“…But we should realize that both the alcoholic and the bodhisattva are yearning for (and with the Bodhisattva actually working for) a situation in which individual egos are not separate…”
The Outer Planets and Collective Projection
Pg 79, Tim Lyons
The triumph of working with Neptune is waking up to the quote above with a triumphant calling to move forward.
It scares me to read the above quote. I like my independence and introverted ways. To know that all egos are not separate is good as long as we are not to packed together.
Maybe working together for a common cause is better! A call of integrity is a call of the human spirit to right wrongs. These are more, my way of seeing it.
There is hope if people will begin to awaken that spiritual part of themselves, that heartfelt knowledge that we are caretakers of this planet.
~ Brooke Medicine Eagle
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The Daily “FUCK” Gazette Vol. One, Number 6.
The past is bad yet it is worse now, So the small mushroom man and his club for small mushroom men and their dirty bitches…
are going after Comey now …..
Original Post July 2017
A darkness is upon us. A time when the worst of communism and capitalism flank together and show its seething fangs. The breath of fascism is so close that we can smell the foul air.
“Our obligation is to refuse to let bad win, to refuse to let evil hold the field.”
Capitalism and communism are not bad forms of governing but can become so! If these forms of government don’t hold the human being as self-evident and hold all of us as having a high valid place as in the core of the apple, then that sucks! The individual human spirit does govern us!
Yet both forms of government can turn and bend and oppress the individual out of greed and power whipped into shape by a governing party or president holding a shadowy light! When this happens, it is a type of death to the human spirit, because it does not apply governing and service to all the people. Yes, not just the rich and/ or influential.
Today as we at Flopside comics witnessed the Senate Intelligence Committee interview NSA director Mike Rodgers and director of National Intelligence Dan Coats, we heard them stonewall the American people.
So, we at Flopside cOomics are anticipating that the good knight, Sir James Comey, will attend to the human spirit tomorrow. Anyway, this is where we put our hope.
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Rodney, Annette & Frankie and Flipside Fanzine
(I just stumbled on this post again… and it is a nice reflection to embrace.. May 2017)
I looked outside at the night while watching the stars and the sparkling lights on the Verdugo Mountains. It was this time that a new world opened to me. We were all listening and we were all connected.
It was about 3 feet by 4 feet. Beige color and made of a soft wood with round speakers built-in the front of the radio. The base sound was good and highlighted the sound his soft DJ voice made.
His voice was in conflict with the loud music he played. Cutting Edge music.
I was glued to the sound of the music he played. The room was dark and I was alone in my parent’s two story house.
Taken from Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine
(There was suspicion but not until years passed and a clear affiliations of facts, narratives and friends that I have to state that Tar “staph writer” is a convicted sex offender of young boys and underage punks! His story is very offensive to me and at the time when he worked on Flipside Fanzine it was only by way of the post office. A written correspondence. I distanced myself from him years ago.) – Hudley
In my imagination it never occurred to me that I would get to know this music man. A type of pre-internet friend. A phone, mail relationship that came to be during the 1980s. Kind of like a Facebook friend now. Not exceptionally close but supportive and dependable and we all randomly came together as a sturdy cable.
We were the jump-start that started the punk rock engine.
A dependable promotional voltage to what the punk scene was screaming to achieve. Great times….
Thank you, Rodney!! A lot of action and movement! A lot of love!!
http://variety.com/2017/music/news/rodney-on-the-roq-ends-1202445586/
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Controlling Improvising friends..
Improvising is having the ability to control one’s mind and think clearly. To speak from memory and experience within the presence of now and not get tongue-tied. I watch how some people are so good at this type of control. It amazes me. They can move their bodies, speak and improvise with a type of grace.
A controlling of the mind and the body with entertaining perfection.
It is not about repetition or practice, yet that is part of it. Taking tests and writing essays in a class is the same type of improvising control. Some are good at it and others are not. Takes a lot of practice yet some people can bull their way through with flying colors. That is what I would like to be able to do.
I guess this is why I love Jazz. It is improvising control that is so perfect. A yearning for me…
“I stood for a moment on the scent, smelling this shrill and blood-raw music, sniffing the atmosphere of the hall angrily, and hankering after it a little too. One half of this music, the melody, was all pomade and sugar and sentimentality. The other half was savage, temperamental and vigorous. Yet the two went artlessly well together and made a whole.”
Pg. 37 Steppenwolf
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/control/
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Ode to the Verdugo Mountains
Ode to the Verdugo Mountains
By Hudley Flipside
In the early morning
there is nothing like driving east
on Sherman Way in the San Fernando Valley.
Not too many drivers
on the road
the view of the Verdugo mountains
are straight ahead.
The Verdugo shine with a blue gray hue
recalling my youthful wild days.
The street is lined
with dark green pepper trees
blocks of brilliant yellow mustard greens
freely enhanced with
miles of tall brown, yellow wheat weeds.
What is left of a wild valley?
It is a cool windy day
the will-o’-the-wisp
goes around and round.
Made up of different colored leaves
memories that stir within me.
Coolness on clothes
distance of windy gray sky
maybe rain will fall
onto the concert of
the Los Angeles River
parallel to
the Verdugo Mountains.
Prehistoric blue gray mountain range
wild dew memories
inspire feelings
I am getting younger
not older.
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till I drop
“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 the 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 the 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 multiple attacks from 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 too old to do anything about it.
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Leaves In The Wind
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.
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Making it happen…
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.
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/capable/
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Continuously she pours into the cup.
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?
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/year/
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Friendly Echoes
“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.”
Ovid, Metamorphoses, 3. 493-501
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.
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Scorching Propaganda
Laws control the lesser man… Right conduct controls the greater one.
~ Mark Twain
As I research this Bannon character, who is about to take over the White House, or become the new Chief of Staff, I see a man with honorable and dishonorable credentials! He is playing the country against itself. All the nasty shadowy things come forth as hate power and helplessness. He plays democrats and republicans against the other. We are being scorched to some unknown place ahead of us.
I have been invited to create a postcard and send it, in opposition of Bannon. Yet, by reading about him I have learned so much more about politics. I cannot say his goals are strangely honorable or dishonorable. He seems like a Hannibal Lecter sort of motivated politician. He seems to want to tear down the system as it is. What value or danger is awaiting “we the people” is not clear to me? He has scorched us.
I will send my postcard. Yet, the contradictory ways of Bannon are strange. But are they? He uses technology and knowledge to manipulate us. His propaganda is meant to awaken a response in us. Edward Bernays knew this by way of Freudian psychology. Not a new game in politics, corporations, or religion.
My postcard will also state an open question to him.
“What is your goal for “we the people?” Are we to be scorched only? You have scorched those in power now! Are you just a Dr. Jekyll -Mr. Hyde evil genius like the newspapers say?”
“You fear the world too much,’ she answered gently. ‘All your other hopes have merged into the hope of being beyond the chance of its sordid reproach. I have seen your nobler aspirations fall off, one by one, until the master passion, Gain, engrosses you. Have I not?”
― Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol
Postcard Avalanche to Denounce Bannon
https://www.facebook.com/events/235432800204102/
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Everything goes…
A weird thing happened while I was watching the Alfred Hitchcock Hour last night. I watched The Photographer and the Undertaker (1965) episode, which I realized I had viewed before, but today it had a new meaning. As I watched the show, I also researched Jack Cassidy. He is the main character of the episode, a original Mad Man character actor. Jack was married to actress Shirley Jones.
After their divorce, he seemed to melt down into alcoholism and mental health issues. I am 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 a 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. Where he is the 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 instead. To cover the evidence, he burns his darkroom down. In the news it is confirmed the next day. The photographer was 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. [11] He then dropped the cigarette, which ignited the couch. The flames quickly spread throughout the apartment and the building. [4] At 6:15 a.m., the blaze was discovered by Deputy Sheriff Jon Dimeter, who evacuated the building and entered Cassidy’s apartment. A charred corpse was found in the doorway of the apartment.”
Wikipedia Note for Jack Cassidy
I felt a terror overcome 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.
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Slowly hating August as it comes.
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.
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Spirals and circle eights
Cowardice is the lack of courage to face danger, difficulty, opposition, and pain. 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 dragonfly flying circle eights over me and then around the pool. Spirals and circle eights over and over again are the dance of the single dragonfly. Then quickly, in the wink of an eye, the dragonfly touched the water with a slight pinch. The dragonfly took just enough water, in moderation, as not to fall into the water. How delicate and beautiful is the dragonfly. Dragonfly 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 swam to the other end of the pool, I saw a large dark moth floating dead on the water.
I intuitively still hear the lessons that nature whispers in my heart and especially at that moment. It is time for me to be as the moderate dragonfly. 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.
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To deprive a woman from her kitchen….
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…
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aimless shadow words
My mind challenges me all the time. It is an endless crematorium of my accomplishments or desires to create. I must say it is a blessing that something else, inside me, does not listen to these aimless shadow words. No matter how dark the shadow appears, I ascend to the light of the occasion to create. This time of year always seems to amplify the worst of the worst anyway. The longest day and the shortest night, seems ironically off.
Jupiter, Mars, Saturn and the full moon come along to celebrate tonight’s summer solstice this year. I have taken out a book, I have had a long time, and have started reading it again. Dimensions by Jacques Vallee. I post about him from time to time. He has whisked me away to so many other books. As a scientist he is also creative and intuitive. His perspective on tradition, folklore and UFOs always amazes me. With the many questions, alone, I have on these subjects, he alone, answers them; intense to say the least.
Proposition 1: The behavior of a superior race would not necessarily appear purposeful to a human observer. Scientists who brush aside UFO reports because “obviously intelligent visitors would not behave like that” simply have not given serious thought to the problem of nonhuman intelligence. Observation and deduction agree, in fact, that the organized action of a superior race must appear absurd to the inferior one…” Pg. 167.
I also like how he blends in the conversation of psychic and mystical with the UFO experience. Also that historically, this is a long going tradition that must not be ignored and viewed only scientifically. Knocks at the door when no one is there, lost time and space, and strange dreams are, in fact, nothing new. This all has been written about for a damn long time. Many traditions that go back for generations. As Jacques Vallee points out, “Ones that must not be forgotten or they die forever.”
So tonight, as I look into the night sky and see the wondrous lights there, I am thankful for this consistency and the mystery; within the darkness there is light!
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/aimless/
