Weeping Tears of Animus!

Tonight, wee hours of morn… I have been spending time awake with my animus!

A cup of coffee my ambrosia

kneading kitty on my lap

Happy happy

Thinking of male figures in my life

Who I admire and love!

Tonight I,

Acknowledge the male within me

You have not lost me

I embrace you

And let you cry

honey let it out

Weeping weeping wet tears

My night with animus!

Heal the headache, tears

Heartache and trauma.

The earth and sky

Jupiter and moon .

A Ghost Mantis holding a Thyrsus

In Greek religion, the staff was carried by the votaries of Dionysus. Euripides wrote that honey dripped from the thyrsos staves that the Bacchic maenads carried. The thyrsus was a sacred instrument at religious rituals and fêtes.


Light and shadow magic comes to visit at different times in life.

The wind was strong and pushed over my angel solar light. I just got home from shopping as I was looking up at Jupiter and the waxing moon.

I have been changing my routines a bit. I go shopping at dusk now and take my showers in the morning or in the middle of the day.

Taking morning walks is something different too.

When I saw the angel at an angle, I ran to fix it when I noticed the shadow playing on the wall behind it.

I said aloud, “A Ghost Mantis holding a Thyrsus.”

I will let the angel be.

I took a picture and played with the image on Adobe Photo Express.



A lack of human consciousness.

Taken from The Terrible Death Bubble Gum Comic A Flopside COmic.



“The Double does not exist only as an Ahrimanic shadow in individual men. There are members in this Doppelgänger sub-hierarchy of far greater power who act as the anti-spirits of peoples, nations, and races. And finally, there is the World Doppelgänger, the Anti-Spirit of Humanity, which plays its historic role as a servant of Lucifer in opposing the rightful evolution of human consciousness.”

Pg. 291 The Spear of Destiny, Trevor Ravenscroft

Friday night was time to go out and celebrate cause my man was winning a Chess tournament online. Youngest son, my man and I made three.

We went to the local Pub and then bar to celebrate properly.

We played darts at the Pub and had some healthy “Humulus lupulus” while listening to real records. The hiss and scratches and well listened to 45s made the music more enjoyable to me. Soul and ska and other melodies moved through the Pub and lots of hugs were shared.

At the next-door bar, we had some cocktails and enjoyed the slow ambiance of a well-loved bar. Nice and easy with an anime film on the screen. A break from the usual sports in most bars.

As we were finishing up, I looked over to see a man with a beard. Brown and rather friendly looking. We smiled in what I thought was a happy nod of enjoyment. He came up to us as my youngest son got up to take care of business. Then the man walked over to my man and me.

“Not just Jews were killed in WWII by the Nazis.”

We responded with a knowing agreement. Then he went on.

“My great grandfather saved a whole lot of people. Christians mostly and not many Jews.”

Seems this guy was reflecting upon his grandfather and WWII.

“You liberals think it was only Jews. You who voted for Biden and Kamala Harris!”

We then got a little confused and I said,

“How do you know who we voted for?”

Then he addressed me directly,

“Who did you vote for?”

“None of your business!”

We batted that back and forth a few moments.

Then came the flip into a world of conspiracies and insanity when he looked at me and addressed me singularly.

“You liberal voting people think only the Jews were killed in concentration camps. But you are the real Nazis.”

“How do you go from talking about WWII and then accuse me of being a Nazi?”

I then put my hand on the table with a whack. Telling him about how my dad got a purple heart as a captain pilot during WWII.

“I respect that you grandfather saved many lives during the war from concentration camps. Yes, there were all sorts of people who died there, and the people were also saved. Gypsies, Christians, Jewish people, I really don’t think it mattered who you were or your faith. Hitler killed anyone opposed to his belief system of inhumanness.”  

The man with the beard seemed filled with total contrary ideas that made no sense but only served to confuse and attack others who he found offensive. He is one of the ministers of chaos. Who spreads their hate talk.

It was a really sad moment of the evening, and when he told me he did not give a fuck about Iranian women’s demands for freedom I turned my back to him and walked away with hands up.

Youngest son confused him by saying,

“I didn’t vote for Biden.” (Just to see the bearded mans confused expression of an unexpected answer.) And added,

“Thanks for the story.”

Nothing that going to Denny’s didn’t wash away mighty fast…

At Denny’s youngest son was laughing and said,

“I was staring at the tiles in the bathroom and then I walked out, and you were talking to this guy. It was a weird thing to walk into….”

He really enjoyed the people we met last night between the pub and the bar.

These chaos ministers are a part of

WE THE PEOPLE,

They are out there,

and it is something to be aware of,

Even at the local bar.

“Alister Crowley adopted different identities when the mood struck him-and, like Trump, did his best to keep his name in the newspapers-and chaos magick asserts that one’s identity is malleable, that one should “reinvent’ oneself often, play different roles. We should pretend to be someone else, to envision a “magical self” possessing all the qualities that we desire, something that some New Thought advocates also suggest . Chaos magick also promotes the idea of using “shock tactics” saying something “outrageous” in order to “enhance personal power,” something that, as with much else about chaos magick, seems to come to Trump naturally.”

Pg. 76-77, Dark Star Rising, Gary Lachman

Does George Santos ring a bell? He is an manifestation of this  “Crazy Wisdom” of “Chaos magic!”

Seems it is what it is.

In a bar in the San Fernando Valley California to the House of Representatives

bewildering our beloved District of Columbia,

these dark spirits or anti-humans are hanging around,

spreading their chaos, chanting….


“I am the spirit that negates.

And rightly so, for all that comes to be

Deserves to perish wretchedly;

‘Twere better nothing would begin.

Thus everything that your terms, sin,

Destruction, evil represent—

That is my proper element.”

― Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Faust – Part One


Hope “Dancing in The Streets.”

On Fallbrook and Victory in the San Fernando Valley



Punk Rock Historian and Professional Consultant

Hudley Flipside


Life is so contrary and beginning and ending all the time. The stars seem stable, as they dance their astrological dance. The moon and sun and seasons are very dependable but not the storms or the opposite whispers of joy and enlightenment we may find. This earth will always be a contrary place sweetened with continuity and music.


Yesterday before the rain, Sara and oldest son walked over from their apartment. They are counting their steps. Later they left and we decided to join them halfway on their journey home. A longer walk than my usual mile per day.

It was easy all the way until we said goodbye and then we walked slowly onward, and we headed home, husband, youngest son, and I.

Would we get something to eat?

“No, it is past 6 PM and I don’t like eating much after then.”

That is what they get for always asking what MAMA wants.

On the way with Sara and oldest son I noticed a broken book on the ground. The pages danced below our feet for a long while.

I picked up three of the pages as a focused random moment of finding something wandering and enlightening me from the dirty street of trash. On this dark cold evening of winter.

A man was covered with such trash in the middle of the sidewalk next to the shopping mall and restaurants. He was pretending to sleep as cars raced by and we walked around him.

I sadly declared.

“He is going to get mighty wet when the rain hits?”

Husband quickly responded,

“He is most likely waiting for the shopping mall to close down. I am sure he has a safe place there.”

My feet got sore, and my back ached and howled as we headed home.

Now today I read the book pages tossed on the ground like leaves in a storm.

One thing that stood out were the lyrics for a song.

The pages are filled with words about music, slavery, finding a voice and hope. Someone was looking for their roots, history, and family.

I thought about my own family history. I think this is a push to get going with my own pages filled with words about music, slavery, finding a voice and hope. Hope from lyrics. A song inspiring us to dance to the hopeful dream of music.

As the dancing pages on a dark and dirty street.

“This is an invitation across the nation

A chance for folks to meet

There’ll be laughing, singing and music swinging

Dancing in the street.”


sweet and bitter WHEELING AND DEALING


I saw something unexpected today. Billy Idol got a star on Hollywood Blvd. and Mr. Henry Rollins was the presenter. I saw the photograph on a site. Now and then I do like to reflect on my punk rock glory days.


I think upon these two characters that influenced us by their music or words in a big way. I knew them, as many of us did, as youths with deep and high ideals that I once respected.

I met Billy after he left Generation X.

He visited Hollywood.  A group of us youthful rebellious punks were talking about music. We were in the back of a liquor store waiting for some beer because we were not 21 yet. Someone was WHEELING AND DEALING with the booze scheme.  Billy and I were talking about the Beatles and how much he loved them. He then cried on my shoulder stating to me that he missed his mates back home.

The beer arrived and a friend of mine whisked him away and that was the only time I met him. Over the years when I see him or hear his music, I often reflect back upon that sweet young kid who was kind of lost.

Henry was a wild youth too. He was kind of funny and thoughtful when I first met him. Yet as time went on our friendship soured. I think it was due to a subscription to Flipside Fanzine he never received because his letter fell behind my desk. Maybe the critical reviews I did of him in Black Flag were thought to be unfunny. His lack of humor made it easy to accelerate into doom.

Funny how a guy from England and a guy from DC can be standing on the grounds whereas young punks, who grew up here, used to run wild on those same streets. Then no need, or sense of fame or fortune.

Once equals as friends and fans of the punk scene, they got bigger, and we got smaller. Yet I think I am happy with my place in the world, and I hope they are too.

The sweet and bitter is what punk rock left me. As a punk rock fanatic,

That’s the way it crumbles, cookie-wise

~ The apartment (by Billy Wilder, 1960)

A reflection of making it through Covid-19 from a more esoteric and psychological perspective.

Eve Tempted by the Serpent

William Blake (1757–1827)

Photo credit: Victoria and Albert Museum, London

“There are two things’ children should get from their parents: roots and wings.”

~ Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe


“E: I have already uttered the words, The image that I saw was crimson, fiery colored, a gleaming gold. The voice that I heard was like distant thunder, like the wind rearing in the forest, like an earthquake. It was not the voice of my old God. It was a thunderous pagan roar, a call my ancestors knew but which I have never heard. It sounded prehistoric, as if from a forest on a distant coast; it rang with all the voices of the wilderness. It was full of horror yet harmonic.”

Pg. 237 [v.6] C.G. Jung The Black Books.

As a student of esoteric studies, and lay person of depth psychology, I learned about our vital bodies. We have our physical body, our vital body and our desire and mind body. Four bodies superimposed on us as we are awake living our lives.

At night, I have learned, when we go to sleep something amazing happens to us. Our desire and mind bodies disengage from our physical and vital bodies. All bodies are connected by sturdy life threads. Life sustaining.

It is at this time in sleep the physical body is free from desire body and mind body engagement so the vital body can heal our physical body. The mind and desire bodies float above us like balloons on long strings as the vital body does its healing panacea. Assimilating, regenerating, and eliminating is the work of our vital body.

We are like trees, often unconscious, reaching deep with our roots into our earth mother and reaching up to the sun and the cosmos bringing in sunlight. This is when we learn about the wonderful relationship we have with other planets. But mostly our bodies recover from the damage incurred throughout the day by simply living our life.

Having Covid-19 I have experienced the powerful work of my own vital body. It is so important to sleep when one has Covid-19.

It was hard to sleep for me. The pain, the fever, the fear was overwhelming. Yet when I did, I felt like a tree and the power work of sleeping happened. Waking up many times as if I went for a swim. And after such nights when I did sleep, I felt better.

Once I experienced a kaleidoscope of coughing over and over with visions of myself… it was how the world outside of me and inside of me merged. There was a battle going on. And for those of us who shared this battle you know this experience as well.

“The vital body, on the other hand, has no other interest than the preservation of the dense vehicle. By way of the spleen, it specializes the colorless solar energy which pervades space, and by some strange chemical process transforms it into a vital fluid of a beautiful pale rose color, sending it along every nerve and fiber of the body. The vital body ever aims to husband the energy it has stored in the dense body. It is constantly concerned in rebuilding the tissues when they are broken down and destroyed by the powerful onslaughts of the rampant desire body.”

~ THE VITAL BODY BY MAX HEINDEL

The spleen is the largest organ of the lymphatic system. Located in the upper left region of the abdominal cavity, the spleen’s primary function is to filter blood of damaged cells, cellular debris, and pathogens such as bacteria and viruses. Like the thymus, the spleen houses and aids in the maturation of immune system cells called lymphocytes. Lymphocytes are white blood cells that protect against foreign organisms that have managed to infect body cells. Lymphocytes also protect the body from itself by controlling cancerous cells. The spleen is valuable to the immune response against antigens and pathogens in the blood.


Having all the vaccines I chose not to get the PAXLOVID. I don’t do well with side effects.

At this time of the year the veil between the living and the dead is so thin. Dreams are intense yet with Covid-19 my mind is weak. Yet last night I do remember the end of my dream.

I was in a large, lovely field. Maybe the place of my ancestors, Cornwall, England. It was dusk or maybe the sun was just rising. A slight mist was in the air. I was waiting to catch the vampires. I got to see them outside of my body. We stood there all looking at each other and aware.

I saw at least three or four hovering, lingering in this vast open field. I was there to conquer them.

I awoke.

Today I feel much better. I only share the feelings left of a body that battled and won. A sore back and chest. A sore throat that once was tight with heat. And then signs of a cold are slowly disappearing. Fatigued but here to live another day.

I think of all the cowboy fights I watch on my favorite show Gunsmoke. Right after a fight of getting his ass kicked, a cowboy walks up into the bar and orders a whiskey. Then powers it down, walks out and gets on his horse and rides away. No problem!

Reb Kittredge:

I ran into a little trouble this morning. I had to leave my horse back up the trail.

Rita:

If I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, I’d say you still had him with you.

~Gunsmoke

This is the time for Jose Quavo

Punk Rock Historian and Profession Consultant

Hudley Flipside



The San Fernando Valley was a lot of fun for a short time.

Creating plenty of “amber moments” with Lynn, Sue, and a few others.


Today I had to make a Target run for my 100% organic cotton underwear or “panties” for short. Like it was such a big deal when it was announced in the film, Anatomy of a Murder. Yet it amazes me, and I feel like a pervert when I go into the lady’s underwear section here. It has expanded out with a million types of sexy underwear. I guess women put a lot of time in to thinking about underwear and being sexy regardless of the material. All synthetic and… well yucky. The little section of cotton underwear is small indeed.  

“Sister Rose and Sister Blanche. Blanche saying they’re going door to door to collect …lingerie…for needy sexy people”

~ The Golden Girls

Yet I digress, what really got me writing today is a song that came on the PA system while walking around. ‘Strawberry Letter 23.”

“Strawberry Letter 23” is a 1971 song written and composed by Shuggie Otis from his 1971 album Freedom Flight. It is also widely known by the 1977 cover version recorded by the Brothers Johnson and produced by Quincy Jones.

I knew the song briefly 1977 as a time when the tide came in with a variety of music. New wave, soul, disco, pop, punk, and progressive music. All merging in a kaleidoscope of fun.

Starbaby’s, The Mineshaft and The Red Onion were open for dancing. It was a great time for singing in back alleys with my buddies,

“This is the time for Jose Quavo.”

We all took shots and headed back into the clubhouse to,

“dance the night away.”

This was one of our favorite songs.



Being Unladylike

Punk Rock Historian and Profession Consultant

Hudley Flipside


We have not yet learned to value the creativity, courage, and competence required to negotiate the ordinary but devastating frustrations and crises of human experience.

Jacobs, Ruth H. Be an Outrageous Older Woman Harper Collins. Kindle Edition.

“Alone with just a little bit of soul, right now, now, baby
Darling, everything is gonna be alright
One more time, just one more time, baby…”


What strange times we are living in. The contrary nature of life is overwhelming. Nature seems a bit outrageous and shrilling.

Just last week youngest son was meant to go on his first Geophysics lab above Ojai, California. The coastal regions to studying the mighty earth and her movements.

Then he went to one party with ten friends. The only time in a long while where he felt safe. Then right before the event he got the Covid19 tracer call. He did not get to go to his well planned out lab. That was last Monday. Most likely the worst day of his life. The family all tested negative. We were lucky. Yet I was mad as hell.

The opportunity will come again because that is his major.

Security is a good need, I think. I did not always feel this way.

Today while watching some news about the floods in Kentucky a commercial came on. I don’t know what was being sold but the song caught my attention. It was the song Security.

Otis Ray Redding Jr. (September 9, 1941 – December 10, 1967) was an American singer and songwriter. He is considered one of the greatest singers in the history of American popular music and a seminal artist in soul music and rhythm and blues. Nicknamed the “King of Soul”, Redding’s style of singing gained inspiration from the gospel music that preceded the genre. His singing style influenced many other soul artists of the 1960s. Label:          Volt – 45-117, Vinyl, 7″, 45 RPM, Single, Promo 1964.


But my favorite recording of this song is by, well you know, The Saints.

Label: Harvest – HAR 5166

Format: Vinyl, 7″, 45 RPM, Single Country: UK 1978


What do you do if they call you shrill because you demand your rights? You don’t get anxious about being unladylike. You realize that a man who fought for his rights would be considered appropriate and that ideas of what is ladylike have been used to control women for centuries. You translate shrill to assertive and smile smugly. Congratulate yourself that you have learned how to be assertive in your later years despite your socialization to be a “good girl” and cave in when confrontation arises, fearful of censure.

Jacobs, Ruth H. Be an Outrageous Older Woman, HarperCollins. Kindle Edition.

Hiawatha and Dionysus

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

I call upon Hiawatha and Dionysus

I often believe you two are the same

Friends of humanity and the earth.

As seeing the history of our earth and the waters 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 wildness of our natures.

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

Trees and rivers, rain, and thunder.

Love making to eating and dancing.


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

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.