I am a crone peppered with punk and seasoned with many other flavors. Humor, sometimes nasty, lets off a lot of steam. Or descending or ascending into the extramundane!
I am happy to be a member of…
Top Posts & Pages
February 2012 – 2018
- "In the beginning there was a void except for the written word." The Avengers (Band)
- Art Stuff Man…
- Book Reading of the Day
- Book Reading of the Day, it's Sunday !!
- Books I Dig
- CDs and anything to review that i want toooooooooooooo!!
- Current Events..
- Dialogue with Breasts more than a sex object.
- Embellished non-fiction short stories
- Holly Duval Cornell's Poems & Prose
- My Red Book by Holly Cornell
- Nature Politics
- PUNK NO-stalgia :Punk Rock
- Records, CDs and anything to review that i want toooooooooooooo!!
- The Adventures of Sony and Raubie
- The Daily “FUCK” Gazette
- the Esoteric heart beat…
- The Praying Mantis
Stop thinking about art works as objects, and start thinking about them as triggers for experiences. (Roy Ascott’s phrase.) That solves a lot of problems: we don’t have to argue whether photographs are art, or whether performances are art, or whether Carl Andre’s bricks or Andrew Serranos’s piss or Little Richard’s ‘Long Tall Sally’ are art, because we say, ‘Art is something that happens, a process, not a quality, and all sorts of things can make it happen.’ … [W]hat makes a work of art ‘good’ for you is not something that is already ‘inside’ it, but something that happens inside you — so the value of the work lies in the degree to which it can help you have the kind of experience that you call art.
~ Brian Eno
Agathos Daimon, the Good or Rich Spirit”. His numinous presence could be represented in art as a serpent or more concretely as a young man bearing a cornucopia and a bowl in one hand, and a poppy and an ear of grain in the other. The agathodaemon was later adapted into a general daemon of fortuna, particularly of the continued abundance of a family’s good food and drink.
“Scientists know that electromagnetic waves carry information. Radio waves are a common example of how information is sent out via electromagnetic waves. The waves that your heart and brain generate carry information that is sent through your body and out into the space around you, just like a radio transmitter. Yet the heart’s signals have much more power.” – The HeartMath Story, as Told by Founder Doc Childre
I’ve heard it said that the soul doesn’t live inside our body but that it is more like a womb in which we are contained.
Turner, Toko-pa. Belonging: Remembering Ourselves home (Kindle Locations 2739-2740). Her Own Room Press. Kindle Edition.
“This disco guy wanted funk in our sound with 10,000 backing vocals, the guy laughed at Tony when he tried to sing, they treated us like shit. Casey wanted to hit that engineer dick…Posh Boy told us not to play games with him, he’d play games with us. That engineer was a real dick.”
~ Steve Soto ADOLESCENTS
In our over psychological culture, psychological testing substitutes for this seasoned eye and prevents its development. Instead of looking, we test; instead of imaginative insight, we read write-ups; instead of interviews, inventories; instead of stories, scores. Psychology assumes it can get at character by probing motivations, reaction responses, choices, and projections. It uses concepts and numbers to access the soul, rather than relying on the anomalous eye of a practiced observer.
Hillman, James. The Force of Character: And the Lasting Life (Kindle Locations 844-847). Random House Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.
It is the prime task of a truly modern mind to endure both the spiritual and the practical as the framework for her life.
Johnson, Robert A.. She: Understanding Feminine Psychology (p. 80). HarperCollins. Kindle Edition. __________________________________
Mysterious in day’s broad light,
Nature retains her veil, despite our imprecations,
and what she won’t reveal to human mind or sight
levers, screws or hammers
cannot wrench from her. ~ Goethe
Faust part 1
Writing has laws of perspective, of light and shade just as painting does, or music. If you are born knowing them, fine. If not, learn them. Then rearrange the rules to suit yourself.
“And just as the soul that is inside your dust.”
~ Pg 8 The Divine Comedy ~ Dante
“I always liked the intensity of the recording.”
~ Chris Bailey from the band The Saints
“Sometimes people try and tell me what is and isn’t punk, or that GBH do or don’t fit in, but they’re generally no older than my socks, and they know about as much. I’ve lived my life doing what I want the way I want to ever since I got expelled from school. Ever since 1977….That’s punk rock”
~ Ross Lomas: From his Book City Baby.
“As I was walking among the fires of Hell,
delighted with the enjoyments of Genius;
which to Angels look like torment and insanity.
I collected some of their Proverbs. ”
~ William Blake, “The Marriage of Heaven and Hell”, 1790
Tag Archives: Horses
Beer, Ginger Ale and Gristle
Trampling down the prairie rose leaving hoof tracks in the sand
Those who wish to follow me I welcome with my hands
I heard from passing renegades Geronimo was dead
He’d been laying down his weapons when they filled him full of lead
Indian Sunset, Mad Man Across The Water by Elton John
Leaning against the kitchen sink and munching and grinding gristle with our teeth was a treat after a long ride on the horses. My mom left stew bones on the kitchen counter cooling off. Refreshing our spirits by reaching in the freezer to pull out a cold mug of Coors Beer. Ruff was about 14 at the time. She was about 4 foot 5 inches and had a small but sturdy frame. Mousey blond long hair fell widely around her. Her blue-green eyes and a large scare on her face fit her. As a toddler the family German Shepard, who was half wolf, attacked her but that was not a problem for Ruff. She rode her grey roan Appaloosa like he was made just for her. Ruff would cuss you out if ya messed with her. She rode bareback and also had a western saddle, with a good ‘old rope circled around her horn in the front. She practiced barrel racing in a large field below her home. Raubie was slow moving horse but Ruff was good at getting him going-on a real smooth soft gallop around the barrels. The barrels were built up rocks and boxes.
On Saturdays we took long rides. Stopping in at a local store near Topanga Canyon, we bought Ginger Ale. Two large bottles. Some for us and some for the horses. They loved it. They also loved beer. My dad often gave Sony his bottle to drink down. We laughed. Sony would drink it down and make it look so good. My mustang stood about 14 hands high and was a good size for me. Sony wildly ran up hills. Hanging on tight you could not stop his free run. I had a bareback pad and an English saddle, which caused a lot of quarreling between Ruff and I on what was the better ride She rode a western saddle.I was not a fancy English rider that rode around a little ring for tournaments. There was nothing like riding an English saddle on a jump. Ruff and I could do it with the best of them.
I made jumps for the horses out of bamboo shoots that grew near my parents house. A large field below made a great riding ring for jumping. Sony was an excellent jumper. It was a great feeling like riding on a swing, that butterfly feeling that you feel in your belly. Sony, with a powerful jerk, could fling me off him. He even stopped abruptly in front of the jump and begin to eat the bamboo. We trashed jumping after some time. Instead we would sneak into rings in the Santa Monica Mountains. We raced through a few great open farms. We were often chased away, but always went back later.
Hudley Flipside @COPYWRITE The Adventures of Sony and Raubie
“a mile wide and a foot deep, too thick to drink, too thin to plow; Powder River let ‘er buck!”
An Old Cowboy call … now Raphalia’s call across the valley to tell me it was time to ride.
You might think that two girls that had a couple of horses might come from rich families. This was not the case. The road I lived on was dirt until I turned about 13. That is when my Dad got me a white mustang I named Sony. My brother Greg and brother-in-law Bob built a corral below my parent’s home. They put turpentine on the base of the two-by-fours, these were the base ends of the corral to house Sony. That corral stood up fine for many years after Sony and I left.
At the time it was about me and my focus on getting that horse and going for a ride, but I guess it was a family project that pushed and waved through the family with different temperaments. At least that is how I see it now. My Dad was retired in his fifties from his career in cosmology. He had his own salon called Javis’s Hair Salon downtown Woodland Hills. Now he worked at home and at some local beauty parlors in the area to support the family. My mom was a full time house wife and during the winter worked at my aunts boutique girls clothing store. Boy did I get shit for that in middle school,
“Your aunt owes Prima Donnas?”
“My mother can not afford that type of clothing,”
Of course all the popular girls went there and that just made me sick.
My aunt’s store was right next door to my Dad’s place that was now rented out. My Grandmother was quite the woman and had foresight, she made sure her kids had some land to grow up on.
Raphalia (aka Ruff) was younger than I and had a horse named Raubie. Her mom was German. She and her sister filled out a greencard each year and she came from a broken family. Her mom was a surgical-nurse and married a doctor and then moved into the neighborhood. I called her Ruff and we got along good. We went riding together often. Her parents built a corral next to their home as well. SO the neighborhood got pretty horsey. At the time houses were still spread apart and there was lots of land, rolling hills and trees around. The big horse flies that came round summer bugged the hell out of my mom. Before I came in the house my mom would make me take off my clothes and put on house clothing. I guess I did smell bad. Ruff and I did go bareback riding most the time.
Ruff did a lot of reading. She liked to tell stories too. While on long rides we told stories together. It was the never-ending story. I would begin and then she took over and so it went. We often road above the hills of Mulholland. The adventures we had were unbelievable wild. Some of the Native American stories that Ruff would read would give her interesting ideas on how to ride a horse. She braided Raubies’s abandoned horse hair into a bridle. This was placed around Raubie’s mouth and this is how she controlled him.
There were large dirt hills and mounds on Mulholland drive where guys would dirt bike. We would hold onto the back of our horses with our thighs with hands up and run our horses down a hill on a dare. Often one of us would fall off our horse. I experienced the fall in slow motion and then the ground wold grasp and pull me down fast. We learned to fall in the form of tumble weeds and sometimes my horse Sony would keep running. My mom would look and see Sony running into the corral. In an hour I would follow. I would either walk home or Ruff would give me a ride on the back of Raubie depending on the mood she was in.
Until next time with the Adventures of Sony and Raubie ~next Beer, Ginger Ale and Gristle.