My story is a tributary that flows into a larger living water of music that is beyond me now. For all those that were there from the beginning I know you have a story to share too.
~ Hudley Flipside
2019 is when I completed the template on my memoir. Catching images and people that still run through my psyche.
Just the other night in a dream I ended up backstage. The door opened and before I knew it five big punks from a band, and I were taking pictures. Their friendly arms around me made me feel inclusion.
It is a time that still haunts me. As in every generation of my life. All are unique times. Vastly changing and different generations.
I wrote My Punkalullaby as my two boys were growing up. It is not a perfect story, but it does hold a mythos of punk rock. I just received copyright for my book. I am celebrating three years of mission complete as my book moves into the world. A rebellious history about a young woman who help document a punk rock scene.
It is comforting to know that several of the bands I loved are still out playing. There is not a scene like there once was but now the punk genre is solid and so the story moved forward.
Below is an excerpt of Christmas day 1978.
“One empty Christmas day, Crazy Keith and I took the bus from South Gate to Woodland Hills where my folks lived. We had to make a stop in Hollywood to transfer buses. The hollow feeling as we waited for the bus on Hollywood Boulevard still impresses me with the echo of merry-go-round music.
A miniature one was going around and round on top of a truck parked nearby. There was an offbeat sound of music, and trash filled a lonely boulevard before us. An old lady down the street walked slowly toward the bus stop where we sat. She was searching in trash cans.
When she reached us, the skinny crippled woman held out a half-eaten apple. Not as a gift but for money.
I lost Crazy Keith a year later somewhere to someone and quickly got over his obnoxious, talkative, and controlling personality and moved on.”
~ MY PUNKALULLABY, HUDLEY FLIPSIDE