I am finding Mr. Fuck has come out of his Bomb shelter to play… it has been awhile. He was pissed due to the fact that Mr. Shit’s theme song came out and no one cares about him anymore. So Mr. Shit and I got together and wrote a theme song for him.
Funny how creative endeavors come out to play again as one gets older. Mr. Shit and Mr. Fuck and I are feeling creative, silly and laugh a lot too.
I think about the song Puff the Magic Dragon and realize as I get older I am happy to find the call again of Puff’s gigantic roar and the song does not make me sad anymore.
“Together they would travel on a boat with billowed sail.
Jackie kept a lookout perched on Puff’s gigantic tail.
Noble kings and princes would bow whenever they came
Pirate ships would lower their flags when Puff roared out his name.”
Yes we all three agreed on this… so here is Mr. Fuck’s theme song that is well overdo.
Mr. BEE takes a drag watching as he critiques the theme song.
“There is a time coming when a woman’s voice won’t have to be disguised in a man’s garment. Nor will men ever disguise themselves in women’s garments. There is such a thing as a human garment. That garment is the inner marriage. The unlived life of men and women will become the source of life when consciousness liberates us from patriarchal power.”
Page 111
The Ravaged Bridegroom, Masculinity in Women by Marion Woodman
The coniunctio, union of opposite, as harmonious interplay between male water and female fire.
“…When life is passing in the night, in the rushing night A man, a woman in the night, in the lonely night Must take a chance that in the light, in tomorrow’s light They’ll be together, so much in love Together, so much in love…”
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…
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.
One can view the original BAUBO PROTAGONIST in the collection of art on-line via Super-Sheroes. Below is the second and the third is on the way. Thanks goes to Flopside Comics and Mr. Fuck who is my all time muse and general asshole… and to the Hags!!
It is a good thing to have the opportunity to be supported in this way. Take a view and have some fun.
Today while performing my shopping chores as part of my multitasking profession as a big mama mantis. I came to the checkout lane. There I was beholding to all the magazines before me. Cakes, ladies in low-cut dresses and The Pope. Oh boy was I delighted. “Hey Miss, if you haven’t started to load your groceries come on over here.”
I let the tan man holding a bag of ice go ahead and we followed. Oldest son was helping me today. He had a smirk on his face over what I just did previously. I try not to embarrass my children… yet as a repulsive creative anarchist my libido is now set on little humorous self-indulges. My confession here is funny to me and eldest son did seem to make a little smirk like I wrote before.
Two magazines assaulted my beholding them. One was Mr. Pope on a magazine cover, and close by was a Miss. Revulsion model on a magazine cover. The image of Mr. Pope and what he represents as that Holy man of this earth; penetrated my consciousness with my resounding “N0”! Thousands of years scanned by my brain of all that patriarchy goo.
Then that lady with the purple dress posing with her trained model stance, a photo shopping glowing smile made me itch with revulsion. Two smiles from Mr. Pope and Miss. Revulsion model needed to share an X-rated embrace. “Hey son, look at this!!”
I took the magazine of Mr. Pope cover turned it over and with a slap placed him on top of Miss. Revulsion model magazine cover. Then we were interrupted by a check-out guy and so the story goes.
The blending of paradox is a great feeling. I accomplished my silly little anarchist humorous self-indulge. Minus one on the Richter magnitude scale … so oldest son and I went on our way. He likes Southpark…
“Anti-art was the start Establishments like a laugh Yes we’re very entertaining Overtones can be betraying (‘traying, ‘traying, ‘traying, ‘tray-ing)”
He did not tell me how old he was but he is a Poser !! I Am a Poseur!
Four who inspire me. The Praying Mantis, James Dean and William Blake and an old song by Cat Stevens. I am posing with them…
“Assume a particular attitude or position in order to be photographed, painted, or drawn.
“she posed for a swarm of TV cameramen.”
Happy Birthday James Dean.
James Dean 1950s
“You can’t show some far off idyllic conception of behavior if you want the kids to come and see the picture. You’ve got to show what it’s really like, and try to reach them on their own grounds.”
I finally brought the images together. I am indulging my ego tonight. So often I see posts about getting rid of our egos. I do not think we should. I don’t feel we should get rid of our egos or throw out our shadows! No guilt!!! Our rebellion somehow should linger in our maturity. (If we survive and don’t stay young forever by dying young ?!)
It is what we need as a foundation for what it is to be human. Tonight, two images are part of my need to hang on to a part of the beautiful youthful ego that is still in me somewhere. It is a fun image. I call it the praying mantis pose. It is very poser!
The second is an image of James Dean from the film Rebel Without a Cause. I just watched the film again on TCM. It hit me again too, that poser-pose.
I love it too. It got me thinking again about the image that I have compared it to in my mind all these years. It makes me think there is magic in all this. Some strange synchronicities that I am not aware of currently?? That is all. Mission complete!!
I added this pose from William Blake’s work. How amazing. The randomness and importance at the same time.
Hudley Flipside 1980s
“This is all about serendipity and fun. We are all a puzzle piece to a very big mystery known as life and beyond.”
I Am a Poseur
William Blake 1800s
“No bird soars too high if he soars with his own wings.”
People, oh geez. The pressure to do things with people is way too scary and stressful for me. PTA, gigs and the supermarket. I prefer to do things without people in the privacy of my world. I just saw the film A Fantastic Fear Of Everything. I knew the character of the film, me. Well maybe not as extreme, but mightily close. Also last weekend I went to a local art walk. I was embarrassed for the artists showing their art. I told my son,
“I could never do that. Sit around all day while other people judge my art. I would rather die!!”
“Mom it could be fun sitting around in the shade and relaxing. Don’t take it so personally!!”
I think the internet is the most remarkable place for little creeps like myself. I can project, ramble and spell correctly. I can control it all. Stranger or friend out there BEWARE!!
The last couple of days and nights have been a challenge. Now that Neptune is shooting it straight, stumbling upon an old magazine friend seems àpropos I suppose.
A Special Collector’s MAD PICS, Our Greatest Spoofs Of All Time!
I eyeballed it many times before I tossed it on the groceries. Laughing to myself I felt a delicious moment take me over. From my gloom I fell into an ol’ addiction and the jolts of humor vibrating from my belly. I was a naughty little girl again. From “the usual gang of idiots” a selection of features from Mad Magazine over the years is presented in this special edition. One of my favorites is included.
Who Knows What Evils Lurk In The Hearts Of Men? The Shadow Knows…Dave Clark’s pick.
What really got me dancing around the room like an idiot was the mistake I found in a sentence. Can you imagine?
A “big Wig” Time Home entertainment Magazine with a mistake under a well-loved Mad Magazine cartoon, shit dogs!!!!
It was the bliss of all blisses to me.
Buy it, steal it from a friend or read it at the local Smart and Final store. It is on page 17. The creator of The Shadow Knows, Sergio Aragones, writes a little essay of his pick for this magazine too. His selection is A Mad Look At Other Uses for Live Lobsters. Yes under this cartoon is the bad grammar. One can go to the first inside cover page and explore the vast editors and publishing idiots. I was smiling like everyone’s fool. Yes it was a good time to be had. A mocking mockery to all the anal editors, professors and middle school teachers that think perfection is really a solution to anything worth a damn. I mock myself too for caring too much about what they think!!
His “Lobster” article is one of my favorites and I smile ever time I have a steamed one on a plate in front me, relieved that it is in no condition to cause the kind of damage a Porges creature is capable of.
“In this piece, she applies skillfully to a situation that seems born to contain it her signature piece of understanding by taking the reader on a journey of attitudes-from lofty remove to guarded self-deception to reluctant admission-that disentangles a knot of emotion as familiar as the back of any age-spotted hand.”
Pg. 42 The Situation and the Story by Vivian Gornick
Mushy carrot 2 pi !!
When I go to the local pub it is to relax, listen to some tunes and talk a little with friends. I always have room to meet new ones, regardless of their age, religiosity, political persuasion, or weight. At the ripe old age of 64 I know for a fact that no fucking body is perfect!!! I do not insult others or try to make them feel bad about themselves.
I do react to negative comments about my friends, myself from others. I know the difference between humor, sarcasm, or intolerance. I do not try to effect a change in the angle of a guy’s carrot. I am not interested in inspiring a 45-degree angle. Sexual geometry is not my thing. When I hear comments whispered behind my back like,
“Who is the old building with funky clothes?”
I feel the discrimination of ageism and sexism. I don’t forget these comments and from whom they came.
One guy had the guts to ask me,
“Shouldn’t you be home baking cookies?”
So, what kind of images does this bring forth for you? I was deeply enraged by this and almost punched him in the nose…but was honestly feeling good so I turned it back on him with humor. I then let him know that in the past I would have attacked him and knocked him down….
“Ha Ha…”
My father and brothers were mean like this, and I have had to deal with this type of sexism and intolerance all my life. They would go into a Trader Joe’s and would verbally judge women.
“Oh, she is a fat ass…etc.”
Letting women hear ever so subtlety. I always been a confrontational child and would let them know what “asses they were.”
As if the whole female population is based on how fuckable they are to them.
So, the other night I was having a great time with friends at the local pub. I feel safe and respected there most of the time. Yet, the shadow punched off me with a nasty derogatory statement about my age as I was leaving the pub.
“Goodbye Grandma.”
Yes, I heard it. I guess I was not inspiring the 45-degree angle like the youngster female behind the bar did for the guys.
That is OK, that is why they hire them young. Unconsciously the stupid young man will buy more beer; maybe sales are down, and they need the 45-degree persuasion to sell more beers.
I am a good friend to have regardless of my age. I like to be called a crone because I am an older woman. If you take the time to look past all the things that don’t make me fuckable or all the things you discriminate against, I have some interesting stories to share about life; antidotes that may help out a youngster like you.
Yet, if you are anything like my dad or brothers, watch out because I will be on your case. I will find you and the next time that angle will be a mushy carrot 2 pi !!
This above picture is a strange shot, on a strange day in the strangest month … well smash July and August together. I consider them strange months, which I hate. Yet, throughout this strangeness I finally framed a watercolor of mine called the Wild Holly Hawk. Thanks go to my Mom and Dad who indirectly paid for the frame and a selection of art supplies also. Even though it took a great deal of energy and will to get in the car and drive to Aaron Brothers, I finally did it. Some nice sales in the store added to the strangeness of the day in a happy strange way too. A new frame. It was not a cheap one either. I also got another one for a penny. A magnetic frame for a cartoon; a selection from the Adventures of Mr. Fuck, who by the way is a very strange human being. Mr. Fuck and The Annoying Orange is the chosen selection.
If ya can’t have fun with your kids over silly words and expressions…ya might as well throw in the towel. ~ Mr. Shit
Of course, I did not affirm the quotes loudly. I wrote them in my journal instead. My big, beautiful boobs need the love of universal nurturing. They have passed the stage of Playboy Cover girl Photoshop.
Is it the Scotch-Irish in me or the French that has given me these glorious numbers? I remember a scene in the film American Beauty when our young heroine laughs when after all the dread and depression of her early teens of not having any boobs; then knowing that all she had to do is just wait a few years, because now she had a big pair. That was the humor of the scene.
My 8-year-old niece once told me she thought that,
“God is a giant boob in the sky dripping milk to everyone.”
We both laughed about her vision.
They are big and round.
They are all around
They are big and round.
They are all around
Going to Kaiser Permanente to have a mammogram is a real treat. Sister Sallie and I think it would be nice if the Breasts Center at Kaiser might have murals or pictures of breasts everywhere. All the various kinds. Not all breasts are big and round like mine…but most are round. I know it would be easier going through the mammogram ’wonderful glowing experience’ if I had a wide selection of ‘Boobs a lot’ to view on the walls at Kaiser. It would be humorous and human at the same time.
Anyhow, after writing the boob affirmation down in my journal I had a cosmic event happen of weird proportions. I went out to the local pub and a guy I have known, short, but a cool dude asked me,
“Having fun hanging with all the guys tonight?” As I was holding a nice fresh pint I said, “Just drinking My beer.”
Do you like boobs a lot?
Boobs a lot boobs a lot.
“Well sometimes that is all it takes, you are beautiful. I like your chest… I am a boobies’ man.” I gave him a look of inward knowing… that the affirmation worked…but he did not know this. I said with a toast,
“Cheers to the Scotch-Irish.”
Then he walked away. I felt all glowing and happy. A few years earlier I would have kicked his ass for saying what he did to me!! Funny how aging turns my anger into accepting humor? I was laughing at him. I do that a lot. Guys think they are so above the game. I have big boobs and an even bigger brain… wicked smart I am.
They are big and round.
They are all around
Do you like boobs a lot?
Boobs a lot boobs a lot.
It is a ‘new moon’ tonight and this is a loony short, embellished story about boobs a lot…
Alex: What you got back home, little sister, to play your fuzzy warbles on? I bet you got little save pitiful, portable picnic players. Come with uncle and hear all proper! Hear angel trumpets and devil trombones. You are invited.
My first printing project was with a hand mechanical printing press. I took print shop as one of my class electives: leading me on to West Valley Occupational School to take a paste-up class. This training got me a job working for a short time at a local adult book publisher on Venture Blvd. I pasted page numbers on each page. They were small paperback adult books.
But, back in high school the image I printed for my first project was the face of Alex from the film A Clockwork Orange. My project was stationary with Alex saying,
“Hello my little droogs”
With all of his glorious rebellious madness.
Now throughout the valley I am haunted by banners all over the place advertising the Los Angeles Museum of Art Stanley Kubrick exhibition, as I drive along the same streets where I grew up; there is Alex’s face grinning down at me with all of his glorious rebellious madness.
Everyone in the print shop class did not have a clue to who this character was: not even the teacher. Now some 30 years later his face mocks me. He takes me back to those beginning days of the 1970s ; to the place of that transforming rebellious power that stirred my soul.
Now I hold up a challenge. I am thinking of all the banners I now viddy around the San Fernando Valley .
I am saying this,
“Would you or could you rip-off one of these banners for me?”
I will make you a home cooked spaghetti dinner.
No lie… or maybe I will buy you a brew from my favorite pub.
The point being I would do it myself but my back is not what it was, so late one night if you find yourself under such a banner of Alex… it could be done.!?
Just climb up the pole and pull it down.
Regardless I find the whole thing pretty ironically & mockingly…weird.
Today was the day of the word hub. I define hub as a center of activity or interest, a focal point. Last night is when the word really started. A friend showed us a picture of the hub where he works. He used the word hub. I was interested in the word instantly. I have not heard it for some time but there was a little excitement in the word as he said it.
Anyway, the word hub made an impression on me.
Today the word came up many times while I was reading. I will focus on three of the most interesting places the word hub emerged into my consciousness. We call them aha moments.
I was sitting on a chair at the local Jr. College waiting for my son’s class to end. Enjoying the time near a tree I was studying my book Jung, Synchronicity, and Human Destiny by IRA Progoff. I was intensely focused when that word popped up. I thought that was an odd word for this writer to use, this book having a copyright from Delta Books 1973.
“The specific role of the archetypes in synchronistic phenomena seems to be to serve as the constellating hub of a situation across time, and to be the factor of inner orderedness that gives the distinctive set to the situation.”~ Pg. 135
Later in the day it was rather off time to be reading the Los Angeles Times but the day was running slow. My kids were playing games and Mr. Husband was hogging the computer so I turned to some news for no reason. I read an article about the unveiling of the new park Grand Park of L.A.
To city leaders, Grand Park provides this new community with much-needed open space, a respite from the grid of city life as well as a hub for community events.
Front Page Los Angeles Times, Grand Green Dream, Paragraph four.
Then believe it or not about three hours later I almost tossed the paper in the trash when by chance while separating the advertisements from the rest of the paper the LA EXTRA fell down on the couch. This tends to be my favorite part of the paper, so I sat down to read it. I was totally amused when I caught sight of the article on page AA 3, Condom Measure Put on Ballot. I had to laugh when I read what Supervisor Gloria Molina said on the subject of condoms and pornography which was next to the last paragraph of this article,
“It doesn’t apply to the San Fernando Valley, which I understand is the hub of where these films are made.”
I am now taking a breath and realizing that within the hub of understanding this word hub I was in fact in the process of a synchronistic phenomenon experiencing a hub of a word across time.
Seriously how wild is that?
(August 19th 2012… my sister told me that our Grandmother on the paternal side use to hold her arms and hands up in the air and say “Hubba-Hubba”… and so this synchronistic phenomena has its charm )
