The film “20th Century Women”

A little spark of truth…

and more punk history It was a day of closure and new beginnings. I leased one picture I took around thirty-seven years ago. It is now part of a film that is coming out soon. In the scheme of things, it is a small thing regarding this film.

It is a piece of the puzzle that screams loudly of integrity. I have been treated particularly good throughout the process. I got paid for it. (It is a pic of original line up of Black Flag after they broke up, but Keith is singing anyway at the Church) When American Hardcore came out I was overwhelmed by how the punk scene was presented. I did not like it. I saw my same picture in both the film and book. I even confronted the situation.

I said, “… that writers and journalists need to research their work and consider original source.” My words were ignored. Regretfully, I let it go. I am treated better by the film industry than my own punk community over this.

And that is a fact. Yet, I hold no grudges or bad feelings. I just walked around the problem and solved it my own way. The film “20th Century Women” will have an image folded in its creation that rings truth. From what I have viewed online, I am interested in this film because the film is set during 1979. (When my picture was taken)

Also, I am a woman of this generation. The film is based on a mother and her 15-year-old son. I have a 15-year-old son now. Interestingly, the film includes the early punk scene which is why the photograph is placed in the film. Nice synchronicity of goodness and better feelings! Everything happens for a reason. I’ve learned that integrity must be earned. It takes time and it is resilient! This image will only be viewed in the blink of an eye.

That is OK by me. I will be on the ending credits for a picture I took at a unique time & place in punk rock history, and it was originally published in Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine. Something to inspire my boys!!!! There are many stories from the big punk rock….

This is just one of them via Flipside Fanzine and me, and from a long time ago little punk chick named “HUD” ~Hudley! A brave little girl you were, you were!

20th Century Women Link

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt4385888/

Upgrade of This Film

2016 Film 20TH CENTURY WOMEN

a Flopside cOmics poem

Mr. Fuck on a yellow submarine… All due respect to Peter Max ❤️ RIP

The yellow submarine in that piece almost feels like:

the body carrying you through strange waters
while the wild punk psyche keeps drawing on the walls inside it

Very 1968 meets LA Flipside survival mythology. And now the year 2026!

“Our country is run by gangsters
And Ivy Leaguers

Morally run by born again deceivers
And media gorillas!”

– mr shit 9/28/16

Spinning Tires with Mike Conley

Michael Conley 1959 to 2008, Band M.I.A.

Photo by Kurt Porter

2/28/2023

I just got back from walking around the block in the rain. I love night walks, especially when they allow me to reflect on moments that have shaped my life, and tonight, I found my thoughts drifting to Mike. He was one punk singer who made an indelible impression on my experiences and memories.

I remember a particular moment back in 2008, a time when I was deeply immersed in writing My Punkalullaby memoir. I was in the midst of recalling stories about Mike when I received an unexpected call from Nick, another member of the band MIA. His voice carried the weight of news that felt unfathomable—Mike had died.

The timing was staggering. Just as I was cherishing the memories of Mike and his music, Nick’s call brought forth a wave of overwhelming sadness. In that instant, it struck me how intertwined our lives were with the rhythms of music, friendship, and the passage of life. Looking back, I realize what a powerful and bittersweet moment that was, one that I feel compelled to share now.

The magic of music, friends, and life—and the inexplicable nature of what lies beyond—makes me ponder the connections we share with those who have passed. There’s something profoundly comforting in the belief that some of these punk friends who have died are watching over us, still somehow part of our lives and experiences. Perhaps they resonate in the chords of the songs we listen to and through the shared memories that linger in our hearts. It’s a beautiful thought that brings solace amidst the grief, a reminder that though they may be gone, their spirit and influence live on within us and in the music we cherish.

I remember Mike’s eldest daughter Alex Conley, explaining at his funeral, how her dad always had to play his music loud, be it in the house or in the car. She did not seem to get it, since they had headphones.

Today youngest son is acting like a know-it-all teenager. He knows all about art and rock & roll. A stick up his ass. Like an old fart art curator or rusty rock band member.

Me, I am just Mama Kin… I don’t know a thing.

I stopped to drop him off at his college art class. Before he got out, he turned down the music, changed the channel to Jazz, and closed the door. I then changed the channel back to rock & roll, turned up the music loud while spinning tires, and raced away.

Mike Conley came to mind. I was then really sitting with his ghost as this song came on.

It is cool man. Time for a cocktail. I enjoyed a ride with Mike Conley today.

Youngest son is my friend regardless… we both like rock & roll, art, and fast cars. He is a son, and I am a mom.

Mike was a good punk friend or maybe Punk Colleague on the wild side of my exuberant youthful life.

He is welcome to visit any time!

Dennis Danell, Pat Fear and Mike Conley, The PUNK HUB MASTERS Talk 2017.

All About A Song, Indeed a Fool Am I

1976 – 1977

Son of Sam

I miss dancing at clubs. The Mind Shaft in Calabasas CA was a great little spot to dance. It was a small tree fort type bar with a dance area and small stage for the usual loser cover bands. We drank outside before entering because we were under age. The drug & drinking scene was damn low-key at the time. No police, no trouble, just a little town. I was asleep, for most parts, to the world around me.

I heard a song today that reminds me of the Mind Shaft. The song No One Knows, by Queens Of The Stone Age reminds me of a song that a few of the cover bands drank through. I mean while trying to play their instruments and while stumbling and singing. We still danced.

Yes, it is a similar tune. Funny how certain riffs and tunes can blow over into new generations of music. I guess if you live that long, one can pick up on these things. Lost songs that sound like this song woke me up, as well, as the vast amount of serial killers. Fun and scary times.

1977 Holly Who and Sue Blue with our Mind Shaft T-Shirts, Our Mind Shaft Days summer of ’77

The Man: A new Flopside cOmic Strip

“The Man, no one sees the man, if they do… they live on borrowed time”

~ Film. The Line-Up, 1958

A interpretation song by some guys from the bomb shelter… entertainment by

The PEASANTS and the Rusty Blade…

“The Man Who Sold the World” is a song written and performed by David Bowie. It is the title track of his third album, which was released in the U.S. in November 1970 and in the UK in April 1971. also

“Stayin’ Alive” is a disco song by the Bee Gees from the Saturday Night Fever motion picture soundtrack.

Performed by the PEASANTS and the Rusty Blade….

No profit … it is done on a love bases…

Ha Ha very funny….

Something is terribly wrong with this image… off… yet the shadow is a nasty fool…

http://hudleyflipside.com/flopsdie-comics/meet-the-flopside-family/

https://hudleyflipside.com/flopsdie-comics/

IN AN ALLEY FAR FAR AWAY… IN ANOTHER TIME…. PLACE AND ZONE…

Mr Fuck finger

Seek and You Shall Find !!

California Yucca picture taken in the San Fernando Valley, 2009

“She would be my teacher, helping me to learn to shatter the mirrors of self-importance and to laugh at the expectations or projections that others send my way. It was OK to be me once more.”

~ South Shield, Sacred Path Cards, Jamie Sams, 1990.

I finally caught up with my long time punk comrade. Another show to play for him. We smiled at each other. I just had an ice-cold shot of vodka. The cold filled my belly. Even in a sleeping dream I could feel it. I also felt the warmth of the alcohol in my blood. I turned my head to order another. One for him and one for myself. I looked back and he was gone. OH, that depressed feeling when I lose a friend.

So many scenes have come and gone in my life. They happened and are now gone. They are tight and inspirational and then become a memory. Over and over again this change happens. I have enjoyed the tight times of intensity. A community of friends doing things together with a similar passion. I have experienced that nothing lasts forever. A new scene always comes again. Especially, when I take a risk by stepping out of my comfort zone.

Coyote tells me, as the trickster he/she is, to balance “sacredness and irreverence.” I can hop on my ego and ride it like a balloon, letting it go up into the sky. I can pull it back down with my human string. I will pop the crazy yellow balloon and laugh like a child.

@@@

All night humor funnies… Flopside Comics Wise

https://hudleyflipside.com/flopsdie-comics/

Still trying to figure it out; Punk Wise…or pardon me your love hate is showing dear

By the time the punk scene hit the ‘eighties there was a continuous explosion of riptide underground movements happening at the same time. Bands like X and the Go-Go’s went with the big labels. They left the underground punk scene and faded. A mirage in the desert of big media. We did not focus on them anymore.

This post shows up after many years. I have done what I inspired to do. I am amazed that in my frustration I came forth with a re-print of our Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine Ten Year Anniversary issue. Also, My Punkalullaby memoir, both in paperback. Also, my three Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine creation narratives documentary films.

I did what I set out to do. A new Flipside Video loop is out too and that is it… Flipside Fanzine, my story and all for ones reviewing. D.I.Y…. the Flipside way. Learn as you go.

a bard of the earth and sky, in the alley,

Hudley Flipside / 2024.

2016

A Ballad to the Good ‘ole Song by Hudley

‘to the ‘young punk dead.’

Life is a song, having a beginning, middle and end. A song has a soul each time you hear it. A song shares feelings and memories which awaken the life lived. A song holds on to experiences of good and inconvenient times! A song has a spirit which is eternally youthful, middle-aged, and old. A song ends like all living things. A song has all the qualities of life. A song amplifies us, the human being, who create the songs and those that resurrect listening to the songs … repeatedly.

Da Capo Press is under a big black sky. Yes, it is good that we all have the freedom to share our stories. In the supermarket I seem to get some deep emotions pulled up. We are all visually abused at the checkout stand. As usual I had to turn the ugly Trump man image around. Was it Time, Time/Life, Rolling Stone, People are another big media cutaneous pig where I viewed his image, and by chance the inside front page had a book review? My brain sucked it in so fast and I did not want to read it… but it came at me like a kamikaze knife. “The real punk rock …,” “X and the Go-Go’s, “the beloved untouchable Minutemen.” Then there was the one image of Henry Rollins …. His bald head.

“It is a curse…”

I put my blueberries and tortillas on the checkout stand. I know how big media gets reviews in such magazines. Is it an honest interview or is it a promotional piece, or a big advertisement? It all reeks and my heart break a bit to think about how the ‘young punk dead’ would rebel against this… as they did 30 years ago.

At Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine we had an endless supply of photos of all the punk bands. It was common underground weed photographs. Not for sale, or for a museum or for any uptown media DICKS. That was not our agenda.

Henry Rollins’s shaved head,

“Twenty something years ago; what issue was my review of Black Flag live in? A show where I called him a penis head?”

I think it was because he was one big muscle of sweat. It was meant to be a humorous blow from an underground nobody punker chick reviewing just another show. Henry took it like an evangelical’s literal agenda when reading the bible.

He was not hip to Los Angeles yet. A sense of humor he lacked big time.

Was it 12 years ago when the “Old-School” nostalgia punk thing started to happen? It has passed its peak baby. I was a silly doe when I approached Santa Monica Press and Feral House Publishing 12 years ago with my memoirs about the punk scene.

No one was interested. I even shared my ideas with punk Icon Keith Morris. No dice…that is how vinyl melts… old school wise.

I am not bitter, just sad. I find that some people are too eager to tell their story in a big way. Big promotional campaigns and all the media hype is a downer man. I wanted to write my memoir because I was concerned that the punk scene, as Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine, might be forgotten? Why am I so loyal …? I am still trying to figure it out!

What I have learned is this, I am more determined to do it myself now. DO It Myself BABY… locally and with my own media machine; a computer, scanner, and little art closet. I have my heavenly share of nasty sharpie pens, erasers, and pencils too.

I’ll hang with a community of peasants that don’t really want to break the membrane into the realm of fame and stars in Hollywood. I’ll stay a bard of the earth and sky, in the alley.

Irrelativity

“…Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey!
I find comment ’bout my looks irrelativity,
Think I’ll go and have some fun,
‘Cos it’s all for free.
I’m not searching for a reason to enjoy myself…,”

– Yardbirds

009 — How I looked in the dream last night !

Had one of those dreams of being back at the scene of the 1980s. A club morphed into a Golden Voice show! The tight feelings were there of knowing all the bands and the characters and players! Jim Kaa of the Crowd was talking in my ear when brother Gus showed up. We are not talking these days, but in this dream, we approached each other for a forgiving hug when I turned into myself. How I look now.

I asked myself if I had the password to get into the show? I said it does not matter because I am in and not going anywhere!

Lots of guys from bands were roaming around! I was consciously aware enough to dig being back in the middle of things. Running around and being part of what was happening…like everyone else there! My scene, my friends, something to offer and cover! Al approached me; we then were at an adjoining Chinese restaurant. We were shooting the breeze! I was wondering where the bar was ’cause a cold beer sounded good to ease my social tension!

Al Flipside had a new computerized contraption that took pictures, recorded bands, and interviewed bands; ready for documenting the whole scene. All from a large black computer book!

He was on the cutting edge and creative as usual. As we were eating our noodles a band came on! Al said he had to go see about a band. I told him go ahead I will watch over your noodles until you get back!!

I awoke from the dream with a missing feeling of belonging once to a music scene that was overwhelming wild and unpredictable. I was spoiled then! My heart will always mourn those days of youthful rebellion!

Bubble Gum Flopside Comics

Experience the first bubblegum comic that will blow your socks off… and they’re coming to your local area before we soar into a brighter future with the Mothman!!

Bubble Gum Flopside Comics… so go screw!

What’s it all about MR. Fuck

Was it 8 years ago, around this time, that M.r. Fuck came to play? Yes… it was…. this is a happy Mr. Fuck day. And we are, here at Flopside comics, ` as we wait for the rain in southern California. I think, well I know, that Flopside Comics suck. People look the other way and are embarrassed for us here. M.R. fuck does not care about bat man, super man or robin (or flesh Gordon) or any of those mighty men… but instead hangs out with the unspeakable and undesirable! Assholes seeking assholes while demanding to be, “More than an asshole!”

Sincerely,

Mr. Shit

(We here ask the big questions……)

001

Bikes In Black

Flopside cOmics

I heard you on the phone, you took his number
Said you weren’t alone, but you’d call him soon
Isn’t he the guy, the guy who left you cryin’?
Isn’t he the one who made you blue? Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh

~Songwriters: Glenn Lewis Frey, Jack Tempchin. For non-commercial use only.

Three Flopside flopping atomic bomb exploding radiation forming trash Juke Box

Today on SUper Tuesday, political wise…Mr. Pee Wee gUtter sayz,

“This little tune is a must to help us make it through this offensive territorial pissing we are witnessing… but in time things will fucking recycle and move along… just a note, I have heard from reliable fucking sources…”

A out of it cat in the trash, “Ted Cruz getz all his dough from the big bad dudes of Wall street…”

“All of Me” is a popular song and jazz standard written by Gerald Marks and Seymour Simons in 1931.

Mr. Fuck heard, I said heard, that Big mama Clinton is traveling and hanging with the boyz at all of those “honky-tonks” and having a good ‘ole time…

Lastly a hopeful tune as the “sons of bitches” do their thing …. ” political-a- long…

images (8)

This song dedicated to the Donald…

two- Flopside’s flopping atomic bomb exploding radiation forming trash Juke Box

“I am a product of Los Angeles Country,” says Mr. Fuck.

003

“Been around. I was left on the doorstep of a record store head-shop in the San Fernando Valley. I teethed on vinyl and breathed in herbs with my milk as a babe.”

SOng ONe

SOng Two

“My best girl Lame Faced Doll says she loves the streets at night in the city of Los Angeles. She takes the metro, bus and walks miles into the high flying sun of mystery. She listens to the music where ever she finds it,” says the brave man Mr. Fuck.

Cameron, West Angel, n.d., Graphite, ink and gold paint on paper, 23 3⁄4 x 36 3⁄4 inches. Courtesy of the Cameron Parsons Foundation, Santa Monica. Photo Credit: Alan Shaffer

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2014/08/08/marjorie-cameron-moca_n_5656561.html?utm_hp_ref=arts

“What inspires you is not my concern,” says Mr. Shit.

“Take me to any room and it is a holiday room…what is your concern is not mine.”

001

SoNg ThrEe

“Boredom and politics… anything but Boredom and politics..

This is dedicated to the man at the art store that threw his cigarette butt down on the asphalt and then picked it back up later and continued smoking it. Repetition always and Recycle everything…” Mr. Shit agrees with Mr. Fuck on this… they are comrades to the end.

Mr Fucks 2nd art projet 001

Flopside’s flopping atomic bomb exploding radiation forming trash Juke Box

Cartton Kult — It is my scene and I can make fun of it if I want too!!

The tune pops in Mr. Fuck’s head and using his finger as a fucking antenna… he moves you… MUSIC WISE!

Repetition is the key to spreading the word. Be it politics, music or art…. not those terrible things called education and math. The pesky fucking continuity of wisdom through MUSIC!

003

The first song is one that has been listened to since the 1930’s ! A Jazz standard. This is mom’s favorite. At this time she is beyond unbelievable earthly destruction. Past the Van Allen radiation belt. A little mystery.

First Song.

Deep Purple

Next Song for today is from the first Heavy Metal Rock band. Oh yes it is fucker. Cause Charlie Tuna said so. (RIP) Who’s Next is a reasonable question!

Getting In Tune.

Last song for today or forever or tomorrow is Dedicated to Kira Roessler and her Academy Awards Success which I feel has nothing to do with this song or this fucking band in particular… thank GODDESS she moved on..!!

you have heard the songs all before and you will hear the songs again… so what the fuck…Mr. Fuck’s finger does not lie.

Mr Shit from Flopside Comics — Mr. Shit approves of this place… yet he does not have a clue about anything…

Zigzagging Towards Water and Waves

If the sirens sang

I would not be afraid

Today I am one of them

Where the moon

Meets the sea

Shell greets the rock

The hills leap

Arching rounded

Zigzagging

towards water and waves.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/photo-challenges/state-of-mind

Touch down on earth

“If you can tell stories, create characters, devise incidents, and have sincerity and passion, it doesn’t matter a damn how you write.”

– Somerset Maugham

Laura could hear the whisperers saying,

“Be quiet, or ya, ya, ya… no one is listening!”

Embarrassed to speak out. The words did not sound as beautiful as in her mind. Then she noticed as she began to read more books, she found that she understood complex concepts. Forming a natural relationship with symbols and archetypes that she was not taught in school. Yet, the whisperers continued to try and suppress her writing.

“You are dyslexic… you cannot spell or talk correctly, or all those other people already are in college and now retired hold impressive degrees. Henry Rollins hates your guts.”

Laura did not stop writing.

As an older mature woman thinks often in reflection, she thought this to herself,

“Why do people write?”

Responded the whisperers,

“They are all unique as their fingerprints.

Some egos are too big, and they do seem to want attention! Some write because they like being alone with the art of creation… melting into the vast aloofness of their creations. Touched by the fingerprints of vast words. Something beyond them trying to touch down here on earth.”

The whisperers mocked her again saying ….

“You are a melody that has been played too many times, a jazz standard played every night for too many years.”

Laura then typed these words,

“I love the feelings an old Jazz melody brings.”

So, she continues to write and create… so many more things.

Fuck the negative whispers and Henry Rollins too.

Denizens

Before, the X-Files and Ancient Aliens theorists, we were blessed with Jacques Vallee and Whitley Strieber.

If you notice, these two characters are not mentioned these days. I even forget about their books on my bookshelves. What I like best about Vallee is his respect for oral tradition. As a scientist, an astrophysicist, he is a very special one.

“It ought to be remembered that the oral transmission of history and genealogy, with the most careful attention to language and details, was a perfect science among the Gaelic-speaking people. UFOs are not a strange phenomenon in the scheme of things. The Elves, Aliens and hairy militant dwarfs have been with us forever.”

Pg. 100 DIMENSIONS/The Alien Chronicles.

Jacques Vallee

“The UFO occupants, like the elves of old, are not extraterrestrials. They are the denizens of another reality.”

Pg. 109 DIMENSIONS

So you may wonder what this is all about. I had a UFO experience. I lost time and had my destination changed within a moments time. Vallee says that we need to share our experiences with others.

We all need to share in this other dimensional reality. We don’t need government or the media to solve this mystery for us. Going back and reading my Jacques Vallee books is so darn comforting. A real friend !!

Dreams awake now !! Five Years

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Life isn’t about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself.

~George Bernard Shaw

I’ve been blogging on my WordPress site for five years. It is something that brings me great joy and amusement to communicate with a global community. I find this fascinating.

Thanks goes to my WordPress community and others that “come on by ” to read it or just look at the pictures. A big Thank you to all my followers.

“Invention, it must be humbly admitted, does not consist in creating out of void, but out of chaos.”

~ Mary Shelley

I have goals; to come out with a small book of poetry and a surprising turn on my punk memoir The Seminary Of Praying Mantis My Punkalullaby as chapters of poetic verse. Also to convert our bomb-shelter into a home publishing studio. For art and writing… dreams awake now !!

“Everybody has a story to tell.”

~Joe Strummer

hudleyflipside.com