Tag Archives: Oral Tradition

My story too… in support of Dr. Christine Blasey Ford !

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.  

Confronting ghosts from years ago and feeling much better.

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.

Roman Polanski

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.

The window from Mike Hansen’s room.

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.

 


New Badges !

Christine Blasey Ford



Audience members stand up to listen during a Senate Judiciary Committee markup hearing on Capitol Hill in Washington, DC on September 28, 2018, for the nomination of Brett M. Kavanaugh to be an associate justice of the Supreme Court of the United States. – Kavanaugh’s contentious Supreme Court nomination will be put to an initial vote Friday, the day after a dramatic Senate hearing saw the judge furiously fight back against sexual assault allegations recounted in harrowing detail by his accuser. (Photo by Brendan Smialowski / AFP) (Photo credit should read BRENDAN SMIALOWSKI/AFP/Getty Images)


Pancakes… in the hot oil…

Trump’s lawyers are in the hot oil… they have ruined their bright

reputations !!

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 !!!!


Daily Fuck Gazette Babbbbbbay! Summer Funnies

Flopside cOmics supports the political satire of ‘Trump Baby’ blimp to fly over London.’ On Friday the 13th, 2018.



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…

th (11)

Four Flopside Bubblegum cOmic editions that challenge the status quo…. dripping dropping satire political cartoons…



Check all 13 on Friday the 13th 2018 … your fucking luckiest of days…..

https://hudleyflipside.com/bubble-gum-flopside-comics-only-two-buck-each/

pacifier

 


Creative fiat FUN !

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 Retrograde 2018

“… 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.

~https://astrologyking.com/neptune-retrograde/


 

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!


Praying mantis Azoth. The first and last letters of our classical languages. “Alpha” – “omega”


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.”

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The Yucca Poem

The Yucca Poem



pon the wall was a painting
Simply framed of a Yucca plant
My parents’ home enfolded it
Hanging on the living room wall 
always smiling at me
The artist’s hands painted 
it upon a wild hill
I looked at it all my life
From babe until the painting
Was stolen away after 
my parents’ death.
It had a constant white bloom.
Curiously I looked 
at the flower many times
I am sure it sung me to sleep.
The Yucca is a wild plant
Growing along
The aromatic California 
coastal ranges
further into the valley and hills
Tall thin and tenuous
boldly spread throughout 
valley canyons.

Yucca calls us to our 
nobility of character
Yucca calls us 
to a wild uniqueness
Singing if you listen quietly
A hum older than we know.

IMG_1461

Promethean fennel

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.

A punkytale

A punkytale as oral tradition as bards of old

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…

001

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.


Two old couches…

Life is about change. Old things die away, new things break into the world. I just wanted to hold on to this memory of two family couches that we got as hand me downs from Marge and Fred. Thank you, we love you and you are both still in our memories.

Neighbors’ blooms under California rain 2018

It was about 11 years ago when Marge passed away, it was on the day of the Mardi Gras. Her things ended up being sold and given away. We were given one of her many couches. A rustic beige couch with embroidery running all over it and white lines moving over it. I sat on it a few times at her home in Tarzana California. She lived in the hills next to Edgar Rice Burroughs’s Gazebo where the character Tarzan was created. There was a time when the hills of the San Fernando Valley were once sparsely populated. One might reflect upon nature and come up with all kind of stories to tell.

The couch was originally bought for a trailer. Marge was then married to Fred Ahern. He was an American filmmaker and worked with Alfred Hitchcock and Quinn Martin.  Fred and Marge originally purchased two couches for a trailer in the desert. Bullhead city Arizona. Marge did not like living there so they moved it back to the home in the Tarzana hills. They were both my husband’s grandparents. Marge was his maternal grandmother. She married Fred after my husband was born. He remembers when they purchased the two couches.

Fred was a good man and always treated my husband as his own grandson. Today we are letting go of the hand me down couches. The couches supported our two sons and us for about 11 years. Fun years. Colorful years with a room full of young boys, gamers, and sleepovers. The couch has been a good best friend. I say couch but there are two. A long couch and a love seat couch.

When we first put the couches in our home they smelled dusty. Now they are covered with hippy colored blankets, my mom’s knit and crocheted blankets and a hand full of cats, books, and laptops. Right now, youngest son is asleep upon the love seat. I think he is feeling a need to be close to it now. It will be gone soon.  He does not usually sleep on it like this.

Today is the day we will put the couches outside for bulky item pick up. I never meet Fred but somehow, he has been close to us the last few years by way of a couch he purchased. I think my husband feels a closeness to the couches. It is not until this morning that I realized this. The sadness and grief of loss is always a sober wake-up call… yes always. Two couches are a connection to my husband’s past. It holds memories and moments before I entered his world.

We purchased two new couches last week. Today is delivery day.  Marge and Fred’s couches are going away forever. The couches will be rained upon today.

We named our first son partly after Fred. When the hospital nurse handed me a document to sign for his birth certificate, I surprised my husband by sneaking in the Fred in Johnfred. I was completely in a ‘after giving birth’ trance I guess. I am glad I did it!

Football kitty is not letting go of her couch as a little Bodhisattva might naturally do!?

I am the Siddhartha



https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frederick_Ahern

Third Winter Wonderland Poem


An event to read and talk
I got lost 
I woke up encrusted with "how could Is?"

Lost I found myself fishing my dream
finishing my dream in waking time
awake with a cup of coffee 
kitty on my lap.

The large ten inch long lizard
3 inch width creature
still reminds me that
it might still be at my front door.

It's encrusted skin of scales
as it pushed against the rosemary bush
and the lights in the night sky
after the crescent moon set.

Winter is cold
family wants to sleep
more food and coffee
studies, words and protesting.


 

 

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/encrusted/