A little Praying Mantis news…
The Mantis will sit in an attitude of extreme reverence and contemplation, his head turned sometimes slightly on side as if he were waiting…for the wind to come from far beyond the mountains on the other side of the desert to bring him a story of life before and beyond the moment.
~ Pg. 22. The Creative Pattern In Primitive Africa by Laurens van der Post
A winning streak is not always based on if I post every day on WordPress. Some of the most thrilling and in depth oriented posts of mine are overlooked for the quick pro quo posts. To me it is a tilling and planting the soul. The bell curve response to my posts are strange and bewildering and sometimes very rewarding. I have come to the conclusion that it is the quality of the post that is more important to me. Not so with my readers. So I can post once or twice a day and get a few to no resonances. It is a winning streak when readers go looking for posts I’ve written months or years ago. This tells me someone is interested. I am not just screaming in the darkness. Yet over all it is about how my writing collectively touches in on the intuitive soul of others… that all this writing somehow matters and that like a good rain something interesting is growing in the process. Writing, setting goals and taking an impersonal stance! These are the qualities of what I am learning here!
http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/winning-streak/
In Middle School, which we called Jr. High School in the 1970s, there was a teacher. The lights came on when I was in Jr. High School. Peer pressure was as two giant wedges clamping in on me.
This teacher woke me up from the dreadful shadow world of bell bottoms and grunge looking guys. The crush I had on Mark Baily was overwhelming and he had the original grunge look down.
Yet in all of this chaos, hormones, the smell of hate-and peer pressure… this mighty teacher woke me up.
“Excellent! I cried. “Elementary.” Said He.
The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes (1893)
Watson and Holmes in “The Crooked Man” (Doubleday p. 412)
In an English course as an elective by mistake Teacher had us read Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. I experienced feelings more powerful than crushes on boys and the hate of peer pressure. It all fell by the side.
The wit and intelligence of a detective moved me. My only regret is not taking it on as a profession myself.
Also never thanking her, the teacher that turned on the light; if only for a few months.
Thank you my dear lady !!
http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/never-too-late/
Astrological Reading for October…via a Few quotes of “Abraxas”
Pluto is beyond any ego and does remarkable things and ‘not so good’ things…
“This is a god whom ye knew not, for mankind forgot it. We name it by its name Abraxas. It is more indefinite still than god and devil.”
“…we name god Helios or Sun…”
A cosmology of within and the cosmology without move contradictory to each other and to you. Slowly move with the first full moon of October and then skip happily along with the new moon. The focus is to remember to breathe as the underworld and the heavens meet.
Betrayal from family may not go away, but you can push it away with the stretch of Lilith as she moves with you as pounding waves on the shore of life. Hit the ball into the court. It is up to them to hit it back. They may not.
“…Abraxas standeth above the sun and above the devil. It is improbable probability, unreal reality. Has the Pleroma a being, Abraxas would be its manifestation…”
All the planets focus on change while staying the same. Eros and Psyche are swimming around the earth ascending and descending the whispers of love and creativity this month.
“… it is the brightest light of day and the darkest night of madness…”
The dead whisper secrets and wisdom from the past. Culture, history, and music define who you are. Listen and reflect on this month deeply. As well …go out and have a pint or two only. Transforming the grip of heaviness to joyousness. Don’t forget to spill some of the beer on the earth as homage for the sexuality of Phallus and the spirituality of Her who fertilizes our souls. All which is beyond us all!!
“…Spirituality and sexuality are not your qualities, not things which ye possess and contain. But they possess and contain you…”
All quotes taken from The Seven Sermons to the Dead by Carl Gustav Jung
http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/in-retrospect/
Having a romp with your man the night before, and driving on a foggy morning the next day while listening to Jazz; takes orgasm to a whole new level!!
Time can be very strategic!! Life more precious as loved ones fade into the dark unknown. Courting the underworld and also that dark place of the analytical mind, I have found insight into something more. This time of the year screams this depth, scratching at my emotions while confronting me with nothing, a non-caring pain. This time of the year as dusk approaches even the smile of my child, the purring of cats seem to fade into a realm existential of the unreal and profound.
The Apostle said, ‘I lived without a law once,’ that is, before I came into this body, I lived in such a form of body as was not under a law, that of a beast namely, or a bird.[15]
My parents never really looked at death though they are now dead. My best and longest time friend… she too is gone from this life. So as I start this reading I hope to reflect as sermons to them as well !!
The day I began this journey of The Seven Sermons I sat at the pool side where son was swimming with his swim team. Two trees about twelve feet tall were before me. I sat comfortably.
The noises were overwhelming. Children crying and water splashing as women next to me talked about their problems. I then looked at the two trees. On every branch was a small bird; golden and chirping. Singing together and jumping. Everything else faded away but what I was viewing. I thought to myself,
“How can this be?”
One bird jumped down dancing towards me. Slowly, systematically and very consciously the bird came close to my foot and then turned around back up the tree. I then looked down for a second, thinking to take a picture. When I looked back the trees were empty.
I thought,
“How did so many birds fly away without a movement or sound?”
I now ask a question,
“How can so many die without a movement or sound’?”
I look back on this adventure and it was a time of remarkable change for many of us… as a woman it was for me.
“I am struck by the fact that more than 50 million women will have achieved menopause by 2013.”
~ Susun S. Weed
“Plan B” Haggus Society opening reception as artists mingle. October 11th, 2014.
Late Evening October 11, 2014.
The car moved fast through the freeway traffic. My foot to the pedal, the car swiftly changed lanes. Rays of light ricocheted off my rear-view mirror like bullets. Alone on the freeway interchange, my mind focused on where I came from, and where I was going to. Alone in the dark night, walking dark streets and meeting new friends. Engaging in risk taking and it is known vulnerabilities often ignored by friends. Mom would have never done this!
Of all the times I have taken risks in the past, supporting, and promoting bands, tonight is one of the most fulfilling for me. These older women engaged in risk taking, promoting their art; these women who worked and helped others… now they stop…now they pivot and move into a new world of their own passions.
I tip-toed around The Haggus Society for a long time. Observing with a turned face, as most praying mantes do. As I listened intuitively to what images came forth, what inspirations spoke to me?
“We believe we have something unlike other art collectives-focusing our support on multifaceted older women who are activists, thinkers, and creative risk takers. Pushing the envelope is what we do for exercise.”
~ The Haggus Society
Yes! After tears and laughter, I realized…I know I must contribute. After breaking free, finally, from the repressive underworld of a shattered chrysalis, I reach my hands out from side to side. Wide, strong, and ready to embrace something new. I am reaching past the often-pretentious membranes of other art collectives.
Joy! I am participating in something meaningful and current. It is alive and growing!! Besides…
Arts and Culture in the Northeast of Los Angeles
http://www.thehaggussociety.org/plan-b/
http://www.theyorkonyork.com/event/nela-art-walk
RIP The Haggus Society…
Sham 69 are playing around. Shows with good and bad reviews. As though my heart does not sense the beating heart of another comrade, from my youthful rebellion, who touches the soil of the land.
Dancing around and around in my room like Rumpelstiltskin around a fire singing these simple words;
“They don’t understand no they don’t understand
They don’t wanna understand…”
These are my first dancing memories of punk rock. As I spiraled into the heart of it… I also spiraled out. Seeing with peripheral vision the shadows of days gone by, I am often pulled again into this guilty, responsibility of a musical addition.
As a succubus that pulls at my firmer soul, I pull it off. I hold by conscience, my individual power and resist this. Jumping into the anger of youthful rebellion. I am not her anymore. Reflective and mature and proud… I can take it. Nothing to prove or take with me…but friendship.
No affirmation of great things to hold on to. As the rogue wave of darkness envelops those we love in death. So too the scene that once was is slowly taken away by this same darkness. Happy for the boys in the band that linger on…for now!!
“Everyone keeps telling me I’m gonna be free. We all know we’ll never be free.”
2010 – 2014
Joining in and participating at a few art galleries was fun. Getting out and showing my work with others was so rewarding.
The Haggus Society, now a part of history, serves as a poignant reminder of the complexities of cultural engagement. Once a gathering place for those seeking unique experiences, it offered a space filled with earnest discussions.
October 1 – December 30, 2014
Haggus Society Art Exhibit “Plan B”
Opening Reception October 11
6 – 9 PM
Participating Artists
Karen Joy
Liz Huston
Nina Koumachian Ehlig
Jorge Bernal
Joanne Adams
Hudley Flipside
Four watercolor paintings presented: 2014
1. Cromemantis
Life, death and rebirth is what the Praying Mantis teaches me. We have formed a relationship over the years. Each year in my garden the many small perfectly formed baby mantis come to my garden each spring. The mantis matures through the summer months. In August the big golden green mama mantis lays her egg sack. Then she dies. The continuity of life comes forth again next spring. In this watercolor painting I capture the essence of Cronemantis’s charm and beauty. She shows off her wings in the glow of moon phases within her flower garden.
2. Sunflower Soul
The sunflower symbolically represents the soul or solar plexus. The harvest time of experience and adventure. Pomegranates balance out this watercolor painting with the memories of youth and fun at the end of summer. Heading to the hill to pull the fruit from the trees to eat the jeweled sweets.
3. Praying Mantis Mandala
The colors in this watercolor painting blends colors of flowers and the Praying Mantis. This symbolizes my reverence for nature.
4. Baubo Protagonist
Baubo’s myth and archetypal archaic knowledge is symbolically shared in this cartoon magazine cover. A new twist on Flower Power. When Demeter lost her daughter Persephone to the underworld she is deep in grief. It is Demeter’s maid servant that pulls up her skirt exposing herself. Naked below, Baubo, made Demeter laugh. Baubo Protagonist transforms!
As a woman, as a flower pollinating humanity with the thoughts of equality and love. Men are transformed by her mighty power!! She is awesome glorious in her nakedness! Lampoonery!! A Flopside Comic production.
We are twisted in soul because soul is by nature and of necessity in a tortuous condition…We might also be less threatened by the grotesque, horrible, and obscene , since, from the imaginal perspective, the bizarre would simple belong.
~ The Myth of Analysis, James Hillman
Hudley The JesterI am watching an old film Noir way to much. It is Crime of Passion featuring Bararab Starbuck, Sterling Hayden and Raymond Burr. Each time I watch it I study a different part of the film from a different perspective or character. A well written essay Noir. It is basically about passion put in the wrong place or misdirected passion. Maybe it is about ambition misdirected by love. I think this film has a message about the American dream. I like this film because it does keep the sexual passion in the glance of an eye, or the move towards the bedroom. Subtle words that leave the imagination to glow.
The soundtrack does tell you, very well, what the film is all about. A few twisted souls in this film, YES…. I will most likely watch it again…there is something beautiful waiting to be discovered that I just have not found yet.
Happy autumnal equinox.!!
“Coyote how are you and your children handling this hot weather? Are you going to come down and eat our cats and drink water from our drained sprinkler juice?”
“No, we have it good this year!”
“OH?”
“In the Santa Monica Mountains we have found a cave that goes down into the underground earth. We have a fresh running spring there. Sheltered and running clear, but darkly moving among green moss, black rocks and falling into indigo pools for drinking.”
“Sounds beautiful!”
“We stay down here during the day. It is cool. We have amethyst crystals, rubies and green stones growing in some of the caves down in the earth.”
“Rubies that seems a little credulous to take in Coyote? I know you are a trickster!!”
“Just tell my story and let others judge for themselves!”
“Did I hear a bit of a growl in your statement Coyote?”
“There are wild places still, is what I am yawning to you. We go out at night to play under the moon and scratch our backs on tree trunks!”
Hopefully Coyote is happy now!!
Punk Rock Colleague & Historian and Professional Consultant
Hudley Flipside
2014 Post
Cause no one needs a fanzine anymore…
Originally a 2014 post I was 56 and youngest son was 14. Now I am 64 and he is going to college at 22. The bands are still playing around the massive kaleidoscope exposition of festivals. I watch them explode and march on from town to town, city to city and country to country.
The punk festivals are grandiose to see happening. Fun for the bands yet this little fanzine gal can’t go back to being a face in the crowd during a time of a terrible pandemic with an ‘ebb and flow’ which is rather unpredictable.
I am glad I got to see them before festivals became a phenomenon of big and bigger shows with long and longer lists of bands. Or even the weird funky boat cruises. It leaves me a bit perplexed yet I can listen to the music anytime and my “amber moments” are still in my brain as fresh and palpable moments of a once punk scene.
Mockingly and nasty, as we stood in line in front of the Fonda Theater marquee, an older man on a bike wheeled by yelling,
“Ha ha maybe forty years ago!”
My son and I were standing in line. In front of us was a twenty-year-old and in back a couple about my age. These punk shows bring out the underground punk community. The good and disgusting levels. I love it so much my head almost burst.
01 – race against time 0:00
02 – knife edge 2:45
03 – lycanthropy 5:00
04 – necrophilia 7:34
05 – sick boy 9:33
06 – state executioner 12:06
07 – dead on arrival 14:39
08 – generals 12:18
09 – freak 19:37
10 – wardogs 22:06
11 – city baby attacked by rats 23:37
12 – City babys revenge 26:13
Smiling Punk woman and son Shyane at 14
Last night I could hardly make it through Lycanthropy while fighting off some guy who wanted to continually throw my son up on stage. Even though son seemed to like it. He said,
“I saw Colin’s face flash by me.“
Up front the stage was hot. All were intimated by the solar flares of sun burning in the Fonda Theater. A halo hot sauna of extreme is how it was there. A full house.
The 5th Wave at the Fonda Theater pic by Hudley
The 5th Wave slashed the theater with some questionable lyrics, mixed with saxophone and trombone ska. Excellent! Their fans shining. I was very impressed by the courtesy of the young punk women this evening.
A smile was easily shared and that communal feelings of a punk rock community ran in my heart. Strangely different from my generation. I was very impressed indeed. A lot of women in groups and alone gave me hugs for having a son with me.
I hope son takes advantage of this when he gets beyond my reach, because now he has a silence about him that I respect.
The ADS were so satisfying I cried. I love them and again always superimposed images from over the years blended with the reality of now. Fast songs have matured nicely into longer ones. Remarkable! As Steve Soto was there still playing his original sound.
GBH were wild as they always are. Yet, they were a little rushed. I hear it is an intense tour. Colin’s voice was hoarse, yet it was hard to tell over the audience singing their songs. Colin made a stab at the fans in the balcony who were not moving.
Who were just sitting there as being lazy and with other critiques? I don’t know why so many young punks came up to me trying to exchange my receipt with theirs so they could sit in the balcony. It all was a bit confusing from my perspective.
Fun and eye-opening show with the usual subtle instilled words for those listening!!
We enjoy our punk rock community…so go screw Mr. Bike man over 50! This 50 something year old loves it still!!
It never was mine, really. This mature Leather Jacket is ready for something different. I moved it around over the last thirty years.
I embellished it throughout the early 1980s with the bands that inspired me. Something new is in the air. Time to be an organizer and let go of this Jacket.
The kids played in it. I grieved over it, those youthful days of punk rock glory. Now my big kids play new games. I am no longer pulled by a nostalgia of what was but live in the present.
I am trying really hard too!!
All the things I need to create a letting go party,
Flipside stickers found in a pocket. Must have been there some thirty years??
My farewell picture with a bottle of beer.
All rolled up with green bubble bag. Put in a box for mailing.
Acrylic paint and recycled cardboard for the Leather Jacket Biography Book.
Book complete for mailing in the box with the Leather Jacket.
Green praying mantis stencil hides in the dark acrylic paint.
(New edit 3/17/2023)
Hudley Flipside | Punk Rock Colleague • Historian • Archivist
RIP Dix Denney
The Weirdos at Cobalt Café (rip) Canoga Park, CA. Aug. 2014
“Such knowledge is beyond my reach. Where could I go from your Spirit, or escape your presence? If I ascend to heaven or descend to the depths, you are there. Even across the sea, your hand will guide me.”
~Psalm 138:2 New International Version
My heart aches and I feel guilty. I think upon what Ross Lomas bass player for the punk band GBH said to me once,
“That is no excuse… I have seen punks on their deathbeds at shows. If you are sick, we can put you in a wheelchair and roll you backstage!!”
Ironically, this quote from Psalms is how I feel about Punk Rock. Exactly! How can this be? Is Punk Rock God to me? Yes, it is, in a sense it is to me. Where can I go from the punk rock spirit? It is true it will not let me forget it! If I make my bed in the depths, punk rock is there.
Like many others who were taken up by it, punk rock gave me a voice and spoke.
“Do it.”
If Punk Rock is dying to popular culture, this has no bearing on me. Punk Rock is an accountable community.
Punk Rock is a cultural underground musical phenomenon of holy sound. A spirit that rocks & rolls around this planet. It is a rogue wave that generates change. However, you plug into it, Punk Rock is a continuity that identifies a generation and so moves on in different ways.
I may not always be true to it; I often hide from it…but when I try to… it finds me again. I rise on the wings of dawn. Inspired and filled with that spirit of Punk Rock again.
I was enlightened in an alley, where beer, anarchy and music became my God.
To those that are vastly superior …those in bands, fans and, that strange brew called record collectors, I salute you.
AMEN!!
So, what is all this Mambo Jumbo about? One of the original Los Angeles Punk Rock bands is playing around. I have been avoiding them.
“That club is too far to drive to.”
Or
“I have to get up early the next day and take my kids to school!”
My heart aches and I feel guilty.
This is the punk rock accountability I was talking about. I have been absolutely avoiding but I can no longer look the other way!
The Weirdos are going to play a few blocks from my house.
“If I go far across the sea, your hand will still guide me.”
This is a punk rock confessional.
Now for some oysters before the big show …. enthusiasm!
This tape was released around 38 years ago. Where a process of recording, organizing, mailing, and airing tapes live turned out to be an extraordinarily successful project indeed !!… Wow!! Projects took some time back in the 1980s. All sent through our post office box. The Flipside post office was a busy place in Whittier California.
One little, tiny post office box oversaw vast number of gifts. Which consisted of records, mail, ads, and money. It was like Christmas every day. Then there was the Post Office Master. A lady that I hated at first but who turned out to leave little gifts for us in our P.O. Box each Christmas season. She thought we were weird at first with our wild ways… but later she became a part of our unofficial crew in her own dependable way. Enjoy a cameo appearance by Henry Rollins.
A punk rock musical narrative a year of cutting edge punk 1984. A very good year.
Click on images to order books…
Punk Rock Historian and Professional Consultant
Hudley Flipside
X-8, HUD and AL 1979 San Fransisco
In this picture X-8 represents the original punks of Los Angeles. Who were creative, loud and in your face! 1977-79.
Pete woke up on the Chinese New Year looking out of the hotel room window while a chicken’s head was chopped off. Right across the street at a restaurant café.
Big boots and dancing…it be a trilling time for me.
This is one of my favorite images. I have posted it a few times before. It contains a lineage of Flipside Fanzine characters who worked on issues. It has an interesting foresight; from left to right are X-8, Hud and Al. Peter Landswick takes the picture. All four of us worked on Flipside together at an interesting time in the world of Punk Rock. It was before the Orange County scene exploded as well as the new generation of punk English bands. The early Los Angeles punks were much more silent now. X was going for a major label.
The Go Go’s, The Bags and Fear were changing their places and goals. The original punk scene of LA was dying, and a new one was forming.
I like the texture and graphic perspective of this image. Pete is a creative photographer. This picture taken at an alley in San Francisco when we rebelliously tagged and followed the touring underground mod scene. At the time, The Specials and Madness were unfamiliar upcoming bands. As wild as any youthful band. It is the best time of crazy characters and wild free adventures.
To Abraham
This is a poem I created on a triangular form for a fellow student in a poetry class at Los Angeles Valley College. Abraham was a wise mature student taking a course with a bunch of young adults, and his presence added a unique dynamic to our discussions. With a twinkle in his eye, he often teased us playfully, bringing laughter to the classroom, while his occasional use of Yiddish added a rich cultural layer to our learning experience. His arms bore the marks of history, as he displayed Holocaust tattoos that were faded yet powerful, telltale signs of a life filled with both suffering and resilience. He was a survivor, embodying the strength of those who had endured unimaginable hardships. Abraham once graciously invited the class to his modest yet warm apartment in Van Nuys, where we shared not just lessons in poetry, but also stories of our lives, dreams, and aspirations, creating bonds that went beyond the classroom walls.
Every wall was covered with bookshelves filled with a variety of books. I found a book by William Blake there that day from one of the dusty shelves! I made this to remember Abraham, a simple man of extraordinary insight and purpose! I still have this and it is now sitting on my hearth.
Triangular Poem By Holly D. Cornell
“Future…A a ABRAHAM invited a bunch a kids to his apartment to… dayyyy… aroom fulla books and paintings SATURATION… And the helicopter flew overhead, transforming into A a ANGEL.”
“Abraham’s books in his apartment are filled with magic. I picked one up it told me what I was thinking. What is a mystic, yesterday and today, about life and death, and a soul that lives on… Masters hold on to the books they’ve created I know this to be true.
I had a lesson from “Blake” today, he said “inspired seers and prophets-where the imagination is most alive.” He said, “To keep the Divine Vision in times of trouble.” Is this who you are Abraham? Is this what you do?”
“Your homes like mine- a block from the river- A cottage filled-with many… Books and paintings and images and things most precious to you near the sound of the racing cars. I’m embarrassed to share mine. Linked, yes linked, I know we are linked someplace, where helicopters fly overhead… I have Neptune in mine like yours, I have a mother and a child in mine like yours, I have imagination and the future like yours, and the link that binds is love.”
Singed by Abraham Pesah Lenkawicki 3-11-1998
Yiddish – PLAY BALALAIKAs.
A young lad is thinking, thinking all night
Would it be wrong, he asks, or maybe right,
Should he declare his love, dare he choose,
And would she accept, or will she refuse?
Chorus:
Tumbala, tumbala, tumbalalaika,
Tumbala, tumbala, tumbalalaika
tumbalalaika, play Balalaika,
tumbalalaika – let us be merry.
Maiden, maiden tell me again
What can grow, grow without rain,
What can burn for many years,
What can long and cry without tears?
Silly young lad, why ask again?
It’s a stone that can grow, grow without rain,
It’s love that can burn for many long years,
the heart that can yearn and cry without tears.
“Heads Will Roll”
Coagula Curatorial
Curated by Kelly Tompson
Reception
974 Chung King Rd. Los Angeles
This consciousness simply happens–as moments of synchronicity happen, as symbol happen…We know from both Plato and Jung thit its health is its psychological integrity and that eros is the integration factor which binds, holds together, and conjoins opposites”
Pg. 87 The Myth of Analysis by James Hillman.
Sober and alert we went to the art event. The bases of two friends that have lingered if only indirectly over time, have come together. Alice Bag and Matt Coagula and a community of their fans and friends
I found out that it was an obligation not an inspiration. My heart and mind had a reflective discussion while driving on the 101 north towards home. I realize the pain and discontent I felt were mine alone.
“Mom how you doing back there?”
The crew consisted of oldest and youngest son in the front seats. One was driving. I was in the back of the car. Sons and I had bellies full of Chinese food from Foo Chow Restaurant, because they did not have the snail like nature to stand around and feel and observe like their mother. This I get from Dad.
“Are you finished time to go don’t you think?”
“I think I need to hang and observe the crowd and check out a few of the faces!”
“Mom, these people seem fake to me.”
“It is the art scene and socializing…it is never easy.”
I realize I cannot blame my kids because at their age I know an event like this…lets see, something would have been destroyed. Breaking wine bottles against the concrete walls the “guilty we” would have run into the night. That was a different crew at a different time. These angers of a past youthful generation have not passed on to my kids.
“Look there is Alice dressed in pink swaying to the lady singing!”
With close friends around her I did not want to go up to say hello because the picture was the perfect symbol for this event. Alice as a beautiful expression or mandala. Earlier Matt gave us a quick handshake with art talk smile.
Oldest son offered to drive me to the art event and China town’s twilight delighted their eyes into a realm of Dragon Ball Z.
I was disoriented by flashbacks of a punk rock fog.
As we mature finding a community to create with and grow with is important. Sharing who we are, as in art or music, at any particular time and place is essential to a worthy life.
This is what I feel Kelly, Alice and Matt have achieved this evening.
Eros and Psyche
Living in a tree house apartment in the heat of summer with the sound of a noisy air conditioner; created moments of summer that danced by too slowly. Since we were not in the best part of town my family did not visit. So, I produced fun projects to do with my oldest son (anywhere from 3 to 6 years old). We recycled most of the materials, cereal boxes, and cardboard.
All aspects of these books are handmade…only the paper and typing stray from this theme. I at one time had several of these books all around the place. Finally in the last year I brought them all together. All are here, finished books mixed with some at various stages of completion. Years ago, I gave one to my dad on his birthday. The small purplish one in the image above. The little book sat on parents’ hearth for years until his death and I now have it back.
Filling the pages with my watercolor paintings and typed poems, son and I had fun putting them together. We painted the covers with acrylic paint and mod podge, and correlated the inside papers, and stapled this all together.
During the heat of summer, the sound of air conditioning muffled the nearby gang screams… but we created something special together. Two of the books have now come to rest on our hearth, my heart is there also.
Punk Rock Historian & Colleague and Professional Consultant
Hudley Flipside
“And I asked myself about the present: how wide it was, how deep it was, how much was mine to keep.”
― Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five
Today is a day of going back and falling into another time of my life. It happens a lot at the age of 56. I was thinking about older age and youth. I have much more experience at being young then being older. Each day I wonder about what to do next.
With all the experience I have this is amazing to me. I can open the many doors from my past and jump in. I get pulled in like gravity too. I am closer to the stillness of my center now. As in a maṇḍala, which is basically a round image with the center within. Me.
Time seems slow and reflective. I don’t feel the need to grasp the ring from the merry-go-round. I feel like I am in Slaughterhouse-Five, or The Children’s Crusade: A Duty-Dance with Death (1969). Like Billy Pilgrim I am in a place where I time travel back and forth.
Though my Tralfamadorians are silent and the only time I have a view of the future is by insight or in some vague dream. My punk rock life is on the same track.
Diving into each back issue of Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine brings up memories and I find that I need to share these images with others.
A affirmation of reality and fun.
The picture below is of Dee and Hilda who are on either side of a police officer in China Town at the Hong Kong Café. Lower right girl looking straight on is me.
I think it is Punk Rock humor about Los Angeles Coppers.
“Like so many Americans, she was trying to construct a life that made sense from things she found in gift shops.”
― Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Hong-Kong-Cafe-China-Town-Los-Angeles/85219892243
Yin & Yang pendant from Darrel and John modeled by Flash the cat.
Santa Cruz California has beaches for surfing and a Boardwalk to walk on the wild side. The University of Santa Cruz sits on a hill above this once hippie and murder capital of central California. A beach town where beach meets music at the Catalyst Club. Pubs, Donut-shops and pizza parlors mark their territory too.
!991, you might find us early mornings at Farrell’s Donuts and in the evening, we hang at the seedy pub, known to the locals, as the Poet and Patriot.
Powering down a Greece lightning, made up of Guinness and Anchor Steam, got the night off for a rogue conversation with the local Thunderbird or a game of cheating darts. Bob and Zachery made the time enjoyable and even broke up fights… the successful job of the best of the best toxicologists!!
Darrel and John were big men. The chairs they sat in at the counter every morning, showed the wear and tear below. The owner of Farrell’s Donuts told John that he was going to make them pay for it. Darrel had a beard and long hair while John, his younger brother, just had long hair. They were misfits, rebels and they liked us and often they would service up our coffee and say,
“Service with a smile;”
Taking waitress Linda’s job not too seriously. They were characters. Darrel and John had a big pickup truck with a camper. They collected stuff from the local dump, ya know the stuff nice people throw away and these two recycled it. They were reformed hippies but that didn’t make any difference. When we moved into our little one-bedroom home they supplied us with some good furniture. One of the big chairs we kept with us for eighteen years.
After we got our new home, all fixed up we invited Darrel and John over for dinner of BBQ steak and home-made chili. We lounged like Romans and Darrel’s belly was so round that when he sat down, he put the chili bowl right on top of his belly. He ate his chili down.
Once in the early morning in Farrell’s Donuts parking lot I saw Darrel sleeping in his truck. So slowly I sneaked up to him. I reached my hand slowly to tickle his beard when he gripped my hand. I screamed. He looked at me and yelled,
“Don’t ever sneak up on a man sleeping in his truck. I might have broken your hand clean off!”
Our first baby was born in Santa Cruz. Darrel and John surprised us and entered the picture in the local newspaper. Now that is dear friendship.
When Darrel passed away from a massive heart attack he was just in his forties. He was cremated and at his demise party they put his ashes next to a picture of him, as big and as mighty as the tree in their yard. Many of his friends showed up that day.
They were drinking and smoking all sorts of funny things. Darrel was one of those kinds of dudes that warms your heart just thinking of him.
It doesn’t seem like 31 years ago when Santa Cruz was our home, a town of characters and friends.
Happy 31st Birthday JF !!
The Catalyst
http://www.yelp.com/biz/poet-and-patriot-irish-pub-santa-cruz
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!!
A Fantastic Fear of Everything Photos
http://www.rottentomatoes.com/m/a_fantastic_fear_of_everything/
http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/witness-protection/
