A reading from my novella To Ride A Painted Pony Wild
Chapter 3. Headless Horseman Road
A reading from my novella To Ride A Painted Pony Wild
Chapter 3. Headless Horseman Road
The project of creating the first Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine # 54 Ten Year Anniversary issue is a scan of issue one through fifty. Different technology back in 1987 but our HP Laser printer in office and camera, set up in our garage, both helped in the scanned copy layout of images. Both printer and camera made this issue happen. It was Flipside Fanzine magic. Our new Commodore 128 computer was a revolutionary thing at the time. I painstakingly did all the layout for the first issue. We took highlighted interviews from each issue along with editorials. I did it then and I did it again with this replica issue. The only difference being is that the technology for this replica is a hell of a lot better. As well as the programs use to get Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine # 54 the way that it is. My dream was to come out with a paperback copy of this issue.
I adore this issue, so I preserved it.
The Seminary of Praying Mantis Publishing.
The new cover is a picture Al Flipside took. This is one of my favorite pics of the early punk scene with Subhumans (Canadian Band) and Angry Samoans. Greg Turner, Metal Mike, Wimpy, Hud, Gary and Jim.
I am holding Flipside’s tape recorder.
We recorded all of our band interviews included in each issue on this tape recorder.
We were always in the middle of bugging the bands. So, to me it is symbolic of us. Al and I as we ran a Fanzine. It also shows you the world through Al’s eyes. We literally had thousands and thousands of negatives and pictures in our office.
The yellow patina is gone, and the pages are all straight. This issue of Flipside # 54 was originally printed on newsprint paper, so the pages did yellow.
I put a great deal of time into making this paperback into the sweet little punk rock number that it is. Some punks have told me that this was their punk rock bible. It is Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine issues one through fifty. A lot of punk voices. The integrity of what punk was at any time during the original punk rock scene is shared here.
Flipside Fanzine # 54 captures the continuity and real experience and thoughtful wild exuberant expression of many interesting individuals. It was a passion of mine to share in this documentation of a scene. It still is which is why I continued over the years with this project to have a new handheld Flipside # 54 for anyone who wants to hold it too. I think it is incredibly special, in a punk kind of way, I hope you will enjoy it too.
Within this paperback book is our history of the early punk rock scene. We at Flipside covered that scene thoroughly, what we wanted to cover that is. It is best you read the editorial included at the beginning of this paperback to get a real sense of who we were. Ten years of documenting a scene included in issues one through fifty is a great deal to read. A magnifying glass may be needed.
I always say the proof is in the pudding. Shit workers who worked on each issue are clearly defined in each issue. This is what I mean by proof. Always a lot of hands in the cookie jar at the Flipside house. Suffice to say I will let this spectacular punk documentary speak for itself from the giant community of punk voices. The true punk rock narrative.
I recommend my memoir My Punkalullaby as a sidekick to Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine # 54 Ten-Year Anniversary Issue (replica) 1977 to 1987 because both are my punk rock opus, and I am very proud of publishing these editions through my publishing company The Seminary of Praying Mantis Publishing.
Both issues are for purchase at Amazon.
I stumbled into the early punk scene. The Australian Saints and the San Franciscan Avengers gave me the courage to go and see any other alternative underground bands on my own. I found myself melting into a wild alchemy of youths that had something to say. We were finding our voices. All the unknown characters were there, nobodies creating a scene together. We were wild and knew all the songs by heart by The Dils, The Alley Cats and the Avengers.
I will be there handing out some badges joining in the event in memory of our youthful rebellion that is still the heart beat of this crazy continuity of punk rock that still drives our DNA onward,,,
People are strange when you're a stranger Faces look ugly when you're alone Women seem wicked when you're unwanted Streets are uneven when you're down When you're strange Faces come out of the rain When you're strange No one remembers your name When you're strange When you're strange When you're strange ~ The Doors
Julie sang the above song to me. We were on the hill playing. She acted like she made it up. I knew that maybe she did not. This song marked a change in the neighborhood. The 16 and 17-year-old boys were smoking funny cigarettes.
I am writing this because of Dr. Christine Blasey Ford’s story. Maybe her narrative was not successful in stopping the nomination to the supreme court of Judge K. I believe she told the truth and with great risk to her family and to herself. I admire her honesty. So, in support of her naming those who assaulted her, I will name mine. Mike Hansen and Michael Myers (maybe more). Dr. Ford is free now yet the lies and darkness within Judge K’s being will continue to manifest until it destroys him. Maybe not today or tomorrow but eventually. That is how karma works.
The mid 1970s and early 1980s held wild times. A new sexual revolution that became dark fast. I did not live far from where Roman Polanski was arrested, at Jack Nicholson’s home, for the sexual assault of 13-year-old. I knew the girl who was drugged and then molested. I never imagined something like that would happen to me. Drugs, sex and fun was fundamental at that time. Luckily, my mom and dad kept guard. They were not always interested in school stuff, but they did keep guard. I was protected from the house down the hill. A single mom with an empty nest most nights. Except for the teenage boys.
The endless drug parties were unchecked by the adults in the neighborhood. Michael Myers, no relations to the character from the film Halloween, ruled there. Any girl 13 to 16 was not safe from his advances. The peer pressure was enormous!! Once he was 18 he continued to make his moves. That is where Mike Hansen came to my aid. He was my boyfriend who protected me from the age 15 to 17. Until Mike cheated on me and we broke up. I started going out with another boy who was a friend of my girlfriend’s boyfriend. We dated on and off for about 6 months.
Mike Hansen wanted us to get back together. One night he invited me to a party where he was living with Mike Myers. They lived in an old apartment next to a local Catholic Church. It seemed safe enough. A few friends were over and someone handed me a beer. The next morning, I awoke naked and alone in Mike Hansen’s bed. I did not remember anything from the night before until years later. This narrative gets worse because I became pregnant. As a 17-year-old my voice was invisible. I was confused and overwhelmed.
Pregnant with two boyfriends. It was not a good place for a 17-year going on 18 to be. The bad words spoken, tension and moral pressure made me crazy. Mike Hansen wanted to entrap me into marriage. I said no. The other boy was helpful, but he soon broke up with me. I blamed myself. It was not until years later that the images of that night came forward. Memories became clear to me. Around the time after giving birth to my first son at 34. Yes, slowly it was clear to me. I will not go into the years of grief and despair that I worked though.
Looking back, I remember Mike Hansen was mad at me, so I assume he or another drugged me and let me be raped by whom ever was at the party. I feel that they planned it with intent and foresight. In a sense I felt relieved that I remembered this. I felt sad too for a long time. I did not regret the abortion back then. It was intuitively the best thing to do. I realize that now.
Today I went back to the apartments. I don’t live far. The apartments have expanded. There are more parking areas. The apartments are now secured and closed from strangers. The apartment where Mike Hansen and Mike Myers lived are at the corner of Serrainia Ave and Ventura Blvd. or De Soto Ave and Ventura Blvd. The streets change as one crosses Ventura heading west.
As a kid I knew this area. I walked by these apartments everyday, Jr. High School and later in High School. A few of my friends went to the Saint Mel Catholic School right near the apartments. Across the street, where there is now a Wells Fargo Bank, there was a 7- Eleven. My friends and I could get a Slurpee for 10 cents. Why wouldn’t I feel safe there. It was where I grew up? My dad owned a building only a few blocks down on Ventura Blvd. My family had history here.
Julie Myers was a good friend of mine. Even though her brother and I never got along. Yet, like her bother, I never could really trust her. The late-night stories she told me. I listened to her tell me stories about both her brother and Mike Hansen. They were revealing. They pursued girls. I heard many stories that made me jealous and unsure. Something wasn’t right. I guess I was one of the girls too. I never believed Julie’s stories…. maybe I should have.
Trump’s lawyers are in the hot oil… they have ruined their bright
and have become pancakes with pesto… Testaroli.. with pesto and garlic… and lots of cheese…. eat them down Mr. Trump…. hahahahah poor Rudy and Emmet…
Flopside COmics.. Be More than an assholi !!!!
Don’t forget we have been spreading the satire for years… and have a few bubblegum Flopside COmics that highlight this complete unenlightened asshole of extreme degrees…
Check all 13 on Friday the 13th 2018 … your fucking luckiest of days…..
How this all came together is a current event of our times. Alchemical symbols and studies is something I do. I have worked with images and ancient insights for years. Not always understanding the full meanings yet trying to embrace them with a current and contemporary heart and mind-set. I believe as the ancient Egyptian taught, that to understand these ancient alchemical symbols one must “think with the heart and feel with the mind.”
A Grand Trine is a call to see the influence of cosmic realities. To observe the world around oneself and try to make sense of it. Azoth is “all-inclusiveness and the spiritual ray of Neptune which is the higher octave of Mercury.
I feel we are all in this together even if we believe it or not.
“… Neptune stations retrograde shows a Grand Trine aspect pattern with Mercury, Jupiter retrograde and Neptune. The fortunate trine aspects create a balanced and harmonious blend of the planetary energies. Grand trines are very fortunate, showing great natural talent and creative potential. However, without some desire and effort the potentials may never be realized. But the more challenging nature of the two planets in retrograde give the motivation needed to turn opportunity into success. There are also fixed stars with each planet that energize this grand trine.
I’ve been working with this image for some time. I put my praying mantis spin on the study. The alchemical symbol below is based on a sixth century woodcut from the series in Basil Valentine’s Azoth. Neptune is speaking mighty loudly… I think we all might listen!
A hierarchy of Neptune. Azoth is the measureless spirit of life. The original spiritual fiery water come through Eden (vapor) and pours itself into the four main rivers of four elements. “Elixir-vitae.” The spine, a gas that is like steam which may be condenses when exposed to outside atmosphere. But may also be super-heated by the fire of purification and regeneration and become a brilliant and luminous fire.
“Between the gods and the plant kingdom stands man, a being endowed with intelligence, creative power and free-will to use it for good or ill. Between the chaste plant and the pure spiritual gods who both turn their whole creative power upward towards the light.”
The wild fennel is growing in my garden, From the Santa Monica Mountains, Only a few seeds thrown around my land, From the staff-sheath that I have, Near my hearth. My wild Promethean fennel, Smells of licorice and earth, Feels like numinous beats, Waves from the coastal region, Myths revealing through my soul. Prometheus freed by Chiron, Fire consumes my heart, Compassionate green healing, Of my mind and dreams, Love will grow tall and strong My wild Promethean fennel.
Rockin’ in my rockin’ chair Rockin’ in my rockin’ dreams We all are elder punks now The first of the punk rockers A youthful explosion…
March 28, 2018
Last night’s dream
The dream was long but what I remember is we had a big back yard. In the back yard were big beautiful old trees. So big that artists would come to visit so they could sit under the trees. They’d sit under the shade of the old trees and make art. They enjoyed the big trees. Two people I knew came to visit us. Two old friends I knew in my rebellious youth when I had a punk fanzine. Band members I championed as we grew from youth to adulthood. First was Mike Palm. He was sleeping under one of the trees. I saw him there. Next son said that another one came to the door. He went back to the big trees. He told son he knew me. Son let him in and he went to the trees. He had his painting art supplies and a sleeping bad rolled up behind him. I went back and saw that it was Mike Ness . He smiled warmly at me. I felt all those friendship, close, intimate feelings come back to my heart. The feelings of loyalty and belonging to something bigger than ourselves. He was fine. So, I left him alone under one of the old trees. In the house I made him a sandwich. We always made sandwiches for our art guests.
Dreams like this hurt me. I still somehow feel connected to these punk charmers of my youth. They made a big impression on me. I still love them both so much. Though our lives are not intermingled as they once were. They are still beholding to me. They hold value in myself, my psyche. It is nice when they come to visit, even if only in my dreams.
I wonder if they ever find my face smiling up at them in their elder punk dreams. I hope so… somehow there is still a heartfelt remembrance and shared values from our youthful rebellious days. Long gone by days…that we all share together.