“unreal reality”

Astrological Reading for October…via a Few quotes of “Abraxas”

Pluto is beyond any ego and does remarkable things and ‘not so good’ things…

Pluto  is beyond any ego that does reamrkable things and not so good things...

“This is a god whom ye knew not, for mankind forgot it. We name it by its name Abraxas. It is more indefinite still than god and devil.”

“…we name god Helios or Sun…”

A cosmology of within and the cosmology without move contradictory to each other and to you. Slowly move with the first full moon of October and then skip happily along with the new moon. The focus is to remember to breathe as the underworld and the heavens meet.

Betrayal from family may not go away, but you can push it away with the stretch of Lilith as she moves with you as pounding waves on the shore of life. Hit the ball into the court. It is up to them to hit it back. They may not.  

“…Abraxas standeth above the sun and above the devil. It is improbable probability, unreal reality. Has the Pleroma a being, Abraxas would be its manifestation…”  

All the planets focus on change while staying the same. Eros and Psyche are swimming around the earth ascending and descending the whispers of love and creativity this month.

  “… it is the brightest light of day and the darkest night of madness…”  

The dead whisper secrets and wisdom from the past. Culture, history, and music define who you are. Listen and reflect on this month deeply. As well …go out and have a pint or two only. Transforming the grip of heaviness to joyousness. Don’t forget to spill some of the beer on the earth as homage for the sexuality of Phallus and the spirituality of Her who fertilizes our souls. All which is beyond us all!!  

“…Spirituality and sexuality are not your qualities, not things which ye possess and contain. But they possess and contain you…”    

All quotes taken from The Seven Sermons to the Dead by Carl Gustav Jung


Big Boots and Dancing, and reading the book Generation X while trying to find Prince Buster’s 45s. RIP Terry Hall

Punk Rock Historian and Professional Consultant

Hudley Flipside

X-8, HUD and AL 1979 San Fransisco
In this picture X-8 represents the original punks of Los Angeles. Who were creative, loud and in your face! 1978-79.

Pete woke up on the Chinese New Year looking out of the hotel room window while a chicken’s head was chopped off. Right across the street at a restaurant café.

Big boots and dancing…it be a trilling time for me.

This is one of my favorite images. I have posted it a few times before. It contains a lineage of Flipside Fanzine characters who worked on issues. It has an interesting foresight to It; from left to right is X-8, Hud and Al. The picture is taken by Peter Landswick. All four of us worked on Flipside together at an interesting time in the world of Punk Rock. It was before the Orange County scene exploded as well as the new generation of punk English bands. The early Los Angeles punks were much more silent now. X was going for a major label.

The Go Go’s, The Bags and Fear were kind of changing their places and goals. The original punk scene of LA was dying and a new one was forming.

I like the texture and graphic perspective of this image. Pete is a creative photographer. This picture enjoyable taken at an alley in San Francisco when we rebelliously tagged the underground mod scene. At the time The Specials and Madness are unknown bands. As wild as any youthful band. I think it is the best time of crazy characters and wild free adventures.

555, Something like a Fairy Tale


When you see this sign a life changing thought or event has just occurred. You may not like it, or you may. Whatever the case your Spirit Guides are notifying you that a change in your life path direction has just occurred and it is time for you to change too. Move with it, follow these thoughts.

This is a true story.

It happened to me last night. I am still glowing in the wonder of it. The image chose above inspired me. I put some thought into writing something about it. I had no idea that this would happen to me. I have done some meditations using Pluto as a focal point of meditation. This was my first impression of the above image. That it was a door to the underworld.

It was 4:00 in the morning and was extremely cold and dark. The sound of cats running along the old wood floor was the only sound that was noticeable; besides the little water fall in the fish aquarium. I got out of a warm bed. I walked through the kitchen. I reached for the tablets that relieved my back pain. The white French doors of many windows contrasted with the ink night.

The lights above dimly gave the room a soft pink tone. This was my bed away from the bedroom. The couch supported my sore body. Covering myself with a purple knitted blanket I curled around the big red pillows and looked into our hearth. It was black as ink. White cement blocks were the structure of our hearth and fireplace.

I wondered about an image I recently saw of arches of red brick that moved away in perspective into darkness; a brick tunnel that moved forward into ink black darkness. I reflected on the image and wondered about it and the cold dark fireplace.

“How similar the fireplace and image look! This may be a way into the world of Pluto or a crypt that leads towards death. Oh, it is a very silent dark night! The image symbolizes fear and death,” I said reflectively.

It was an enjoyable time for a fire, but I was cozy and warm. I was too tired to light one. A cat pinned me down and was purring curled up beside my curved legs. The waxing gibbous moon was now far away from the horizon.

“No fire now Kitty… “

And oft to sleep I went.

Then suddenly my body and eyes glowed and awoke to the light.

“Rumbling crackles and the roar of a lion wind came forth out of the hearth.”

I felt heat all over my body and tossed my blanket off. The room filled with light. I turned my head to see a fire in the fireplace. The hearth that was dark from the cold now was warm and inviting. There was a fire going strong in the fireplace. I don’t have a clue how this happened? I was in shock.

“But how can this be?”

Running into my oldest son’s bedroom I found that he was not home. His room was dark. My youngest son was fast asleep. Husband was woken up by my words,

“Did you light the fire?”

“No!” He said, even though I asked him many times. I told him what happened, but he fell back asleep.

“How could this be?”

My mind was filled with fear and wonder. My heart and mind filled with thoughts and feelings of fairy tales.

“Is this magic, spirits, or nature spirits, I wonder if this is a manifestation of this?”

A room filled with light that blazes forth is not a pleasant thing to wake up to. I reflected on the meaning of light coming forth from darkness, it is an amazing thing to witness. I have read about such things happening. It is another thing to have it happen and to strangely witness it.

When my oldest son came home it was about 10 minutes after the event. I told him the story. We went over all the possibilities of why it happened.

“Sleep walking maybe or maybe you just forgot that you got the fire going?’

“No, I would have heard someone sleep walking and no, I did not light it!!”

We gave up and just accepted that it happened. Although not knowing for what crazy reason. I am glad that my son was witness to the fire. It was a strange fire that seemed to start suddenly and not to last as long as it should. We use 3-hour logs in our fireplace. He went to bed, and I stayed on the couch curled up. I was not scared or worried about the fire. I did think about Persephone. She is part of the underworld too. Her mythology is a big part of my life. For me she represents winter and spring, death, and rebirth, and light and dark.

Maybe this is what it means. I am curious to know what it means. This went through my mind over and over again. What is the probability of such a thing happening? It is not the first time I have experienced such an event, although this mysterious event is the most startling and overwhelmingly physical one. It was not a movie, dream, or book I was reading. This really happened to me, and it is wild.

I fell into the mystery of what had happened.

The red warmth of the otherworldly fire in my hearth seemed charmed now. There was a fresh sweetness in the air as I fell asleep. I awoke to an exceedingly small fire and the need to check the clock. I ran into my bedroom to see the time, it was 5:55 am. Morning time has come, now to get up and ready for the day. The music alarm clock was set to go off at 6 am. The fire was now completely out. The horizon was pink mixed with cypress trees. I took a shower, got dressed and prepared breakfast.

I have a good feeling in my belly now about the mysterious. That at the end of any dark tunnel of cold bricks that arch into darkness there may be a marvelous light waiting there, one that we may not see now. A blazing light is waiting to find us, and that Fairy tales are still alive and living among us, just waiting to amaze us. We still need to share this magic!!


Our daimon

I am not interested in Pop culture. It seems so many people mindlessly hang out there. It is a safe and comfortable place to be. I find it is dull (and dulls the brain) and uninteresting. It tends to control most businesses and publishers. Pee-pressure and conformity is too much for them to challenge or overcome: they need to fit in. I found it refreshing to give up our Times Warner multiple channels. I don’t get the L.A. Times anymore either. I can pick what I what to bring into my own created culture.


I have this eccentric lady that follows me around. She whispers, “That is betrayal, go for the balls. Seek revenge!!” She has real character. She sees through the lies and has extreme foresight. If I don’t respond to her threats she pokes me in the belly. Then I get that confused chaos feeling right in the pit of my stomach. I spend a lot of time ignoring her. I still feel her presence and if I shun her too long nasty cartoons manifest and manifestos of tyranny focus on the tip of fuck you on her fingers. She holds many concepts and catches them all in an epiphany, and with concentration has the ability to cut to the chase. Her extreme pity brings waves of compassion, sorrow and despair; as if dusk were a disease to altruistically pawn away. Passionate and playful, with many pints of beer, she may dance into oblivion. She is my daimon. If you see her in a dark alley please don’t confront her. Just observe her as a Praying Mantis on a flower; don’t touch her, as she may turn her head towards you.


Tomorrow with The Crowd today…Limited Edition On Colored Vinyl… well it is limited on normal vinyl.

Jim Trash Flipside 20 Circle Jerks Hallowen Issue
Huntington Beach Scene Report by Michele Flipside , Jim Trash, Flipside 20, Circle Jerks Halloween Issue

Big Fish Stories by The Crowd. Came on the scene around the early 90s I believe.

When The Crowd hit the California punk scene it was something special and all the punk chicks had their eyes on Jim Trash [Jim Decker]. He was not the usual Hollyweird kind of guy. He was a surfer punk; Young, tan and entertaining. The Infamous Gerber may have had her ways with him too; believe me he crossed my eyes a few times as well. It was a time before slamming when the pit was filled with the Pogo, dancing, and having fun ruled the scene.


This is the record, vinyl, LP being pulled from the dark closet today. It is a Flipside Record that is not included in the current Crowd Discography. So for those of you stimulated by the phenomenon of the erecting punk rock nostalgia you might find this LP climatic and even orgasmic.

Big Fish Stories by The Crowd. Came on the scene around the early 90’s I believe.

Jim Decker- vocals, Jay Decker-Bass, Dennis “Bug” Walsh – Drums,

James Kaa- Guitar. Produced by The Crowd with Steve Kempster at Headwaay Studios

Limited Edition On Colored Vinyl… well it is limited on normal vinyl.



Saturn is a hermaphrodite!!

 “The World represents the ultimate in individual achievement. It is symbolized by a naked, dancing figure, a hermaphrodite”

 ~ The Saturn / Pluto Phenomenon by Joy Michand


Over reading this. I think the monster may have been Pluto. Saturn in a female form and Pluto in his ugliest! Now working through both and listening to their stories. I am in awe of both of their transformational abilities. Within us they help us to balance our hermaphrodite natures. I think the war happening in our current American culture is a force to be reckoned with. Male and female wise…. that is!

I am studying and reading about Saturn: the mythology, history, archetypal, astrological; and even jumped into some depth psychology and esoteric merging. Saturn could be a God or a Goddess because through meditation he reveals to me himself, as her, that looked and spoke a lot like Lana Turner.

Lana Turner is a strong-willed dame that is morally together. She does not jump fences for men and knows herself. She is accountable, beautiful, smart and karma incarnate. Saturn manifesting himself as Miss Turner in my imagination is good.

My dream embraces a different aspect of Saturn than from my walking imagination. I found myself in a dark horror film. Blood and gore galore heightened my awareness. Dark opaque shiny metal and a large pool table caught my attention. A monster had already taken and killed three of my friends. I looked across the pool table and a light above was moving back and forth.

I grabbed a large katana blade and was swinging it around and around back and forth. I was keeping the monster from me. I heard the knife through the air and looked at his massive body. His shadow was darker still over the pool table. The monster’s head was black as death might be. No head. Terrified, I awoke.

My eyes opened to the thought that I had to post this to help me understand what I was seeing in this dark dream. I think it was Saturn’s shadow. Now together with Miss Turner I now know I am dealing with a God / Goddess. a hermaphrodite.


How can we tell the world who we really are if we mask our wisdom, our soul,  and ourselves behind plastic faces of obscurity-absurdity?

The limousine drove up and parked near the vegetable produce store. It was a cold morning and the mist from storm drains, coffees shops and exhausts merged and played in the air. A round woman was bending over some tomatoes and grabbed one to put in her cart. At that time, her headdress fell exposing her face and grey hair. She must have been about seventy years old.

A man in the limousine saw her before. It was part of his routine to park and look at her in the morning. He followed her routine too, yet she looked different to him of course. He sensed it and today he saw it as he thought to himself,

“Women today never age past thirty. Plastic surgery is as common as buying toilet paper. Why is she not young-looking as well?”

He was intrigued with this woman who held herself with such natural grace and wisdom. Her deep purple headdress highlighted the grey in her hair. Today he got out of his dark car and walked over near to her.

“Yes, the tomatoes look fresh today!”

“Yes,” she said with a firm look in her eyes.

He then noticed the wrinkles forming around her eyes and mouth, and as they continued to talk her words and facial expressions showed so much wisdom. He thought to himself,

“I can see that every wrinkly has an echo of many laughs and tears. Her experience from living life shows on her face. This is refreshing and honest. I think I will ask her for a ride in my car.”

“Not today but maybe tomorrow.”

This went on for a few weeks until the day when she said yes. They spent the day driving around the city in his cool limousine. He offered her pink champagne and in return she told him why.

“I am not like other women, I know. I will tell you why. As our culture became more and more obsessed with beauty, I became more and more withdrawn. I had a wild tomato plant growing near a drainage ditch near the end of my small backyard in the city.

Throughout the year I watched it grow, from blossoms, fruit and then towards slow decay. I’ve learned to appreciate the life cycles of the tomatoes plant and of nature in general. This is the tomato wisdom shared with me!

He held her softy and listened.

“How can we tell the world who we really are if we mask our wisdom, our soul, and ourselves behind plastic faces of obscurity-absurdity?”

And so, the two of them found a small room in the city and grew older together. Keeping to themselves and growing a small little garden with herbs, flowers and of course tomatoes.


Metamorphosis takes aeons, generations and sometimes within the proper cyclical season.

All around me I feel the invisible walls. Maybe a cell membrane that holds me in.

It is a cocoon.

The darkness melts my body and whispers stories of weeping, hate and betrayal. As the full moon ascends on the horizon, I feel the depth and heat of her breath as she addresses me. She is dark and hides the light. This is the process of metamorphosis.

Living in the patriarchal world this process is outright ignored. Yet, women throughout history know it well, for those of us who pass through it. I am not talking about the happy, good, rise-above women who functions as if in a dysfunctional relationship to men. I am talking about the women who hold owls, serpents, and insects.

The mermaids and sirens that men can not violate or listen to.

Women bear up children, and mysteries, which are not meant for the souls of men. Women hold within them those freaky looking, metamorphosis looking, creatures in their wombs.

Tadpoles, tails, and big heads swim in the hot environment.

Asleep she was drawn to the being-0f-light outside the open window; upon the wall of the old garage converted into a boy’s room.

“Come with me there has been an airplane crash.”

She flew and followed the being-of-light over the valley. They both whipped through the air. They were swimming through the air. Her belly felt as if riding on a swing.

“That does not look like an airplane crash,” she said.

The fire and flames turned into a spacecraft. There was a large door. It opened and there before her and the-being-of-light was a small little grey-being with elaborate clothing. Not a word was spoken but a beam of light, like a razor beam, focused from the little grey-being to her.

“What is this? All these images are pouring into my brain. Symbols, numbers on and on they go… I cannot manage this…I think I will collapse.”

She then noticed the beam of light stop. It was over.

The being-of- light flew her back to where she was sleeping.

Scatter the mold, of duality!

 Dystopia! is the vision of a society that is the opposite of utopia.


Often from nowhere a quote from a book emerges from the underworld of my mind. It nags me. It bullies me to come forth in some profound way into the life that I am living. It is not my original thought but a thought of some other writer. The quote has become a part of me. Fermenting for years until a time when the ripening of its identity needs to be expressed. One such quote now comes forth when I think upon what is possible between dystopia and utopia, which is the paradox of all possibilities.

Polarity, polarity, and polarity I am so fucking sick of polarity. 

Just see that we have a sun and a moon is enough to affirm this type of thinking. One can look at the United States Government as part of this as well. Two parties meet to have a dialogue of ideas are now creating a world of dystopia in the minds of we the people; we the people a utopian ideal.

Here is the paradox the place of real possibly. We the people need to think outside the box, we need to realize that polarity thinking forces us into a dystopia-utopia reality.

The particular quote that has come to mind is this:

Chiron teaches us the philosophical perspective and the perspective that our wildness, which may put us outside the status quo, may be our wisdom.


The quote is from Astrology Beyond Ego by Tim Lyons. I have not looked at the book for quite some time. Understanding astronomy and applying astrology is beyond duality. It is a place of the profound and the magical, where perfection and imperfection function in a new way beyond duality.

You can call it magic, wisdom, spirituality, esoteric, mythology, or good politics. It is beyond heart and mind thinking because it is reasoning that moves through the solar plexus and the small and large intestines, as well as the womb in women.

It is intuition and our gut feelings and is powerfully creative. Here is where acquired knowledge and experience blends into knowing. Where synchronicity blows through us, the world, and the universe and into a book into a mind and out again.

This is where mythologies can be activated into a culture creatively through its archetypes. This is where we the people can come together collectively and effect change in our dystopia like government and our world.

Welcome to earth! Here patterns and rhythms and circular forms are the continuity of nature. Marking seasons of life and death every day between a dystopia-utopia reality, but for some, being wild and acting outrageous, is a way to break the hold, and scatter the mold, of duality and perfectionism.


Box Canyon Road the magical place

When times get boring and I have had enough. I take a ride up Box Canyon Rd.


Box Canyon Road starts at the corner of Lake Manor Drive and Valley Circle Blvd.  It winds up a hill that overlooks the San Fernando Valley.

It leads into the old Santa Susanna Pass road. It is a wild ride that contains the feelings of how the ‘Valley’ use to be when I was a kid.

The desert meets the rolling hills of rocks, dirt, wild flowers and herbs. This is a place of mystery too. It once was the hang-out of the notorious Charles Mansion family who use to creepy-crawl through-out houses in the ‘Valley’.

Yet, this doesn’t spoil it for me. I drive Box Canyon road on rainy days. My favorite time is on foggy mornings when the clouds meet the hills.

The earth opens up with fragrant softness. Is there a valley down below or the end of the earth; a drop into vast whiteness because when you look up you see the same view.

Any time you go there the Lady-Face rock will greet you. There is a ranch half way up Box Canyon road that I dream of owning.

The view from the house I am familiar with and the barn there is a place for horses.


better than the Beatles… still a beauty of a song…