Tag Archives: postaday

Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine Number 54~10 Year Anniversary Issue Paperback Documentary (replica) Punk Rock 1977 – 1987.

Available here…

Just in case you didn’t know you can order Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine Anniversary Issue #54 (replica) in the US, Canada, UK, Germany, India, France, Italy, Spain, Japan, Brazil, Mexico, Australia. Amazon Kindle Print On Demand is available there. Save on shipping fees. A mighty good deal.  promotional hashtag…. #losangelesflipsidefanzinetenyearanniversaryissue


For Sale Here…

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1691716995


Only a new cover otherwise this is a replica of the original but better. The yellow patina is gone, and the pages are all straight. If you want it without all the fuss and facelift you can still purchase the squirrely eBook. It is cheaper.  This issue of Flipside was originally printed on newsprint, paper, so the pages did yellow with time.

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 number 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 may want it. I think it is very 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.

ISSUE #: 12

I always say the proof is in the pudding. Shift 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’ll let this spectacular punk documentary speak for itself with a giant community of punk voices.

I recommend my memoir My Punkalullaby as a sidekick to this paperback book. Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine the Ten-Year Anniversary Issue (replica) is a punk rock opus and I am very proud of it.

I guess it was up to me to reprint it…

https://hudleyflipside.com/flipside-fanzine-staph-those-who-worked-on-los-angeles-flipside-fanzine-1979-to-1989/

Be More Than A Witness,

Hudley Flipside

The Seminary Of Praying Mantis Publishing

58E12F79-3500-4F71-9418-7E2A071C0622


 

The Nasty woman is me.

The Nasty Woman and the

Smörgåsbord of words and feelings… some very nasty…. like me.

“In his late works , he embodied these and other ills in the nightmare ridden figure of the cosmic giant Albion, or universal humanity, who has fallen in to deadly sleep of mundane existence. In humanity’s coma, the divine is a remote and forbidding sky-god: nature a sterile heap of atoms, lovers and family members, enemies; and one’s own innermost being, an unrecognized alien.” 

~Blake’s Poetry & Designs ` A Norton Critical Edition.

I realize I am being confrontational, nasty and outrageous. It is that two-week time as we move into the autumnal equinox. I hate this time of transition, but I love autumn.


Today I had to get gas on the way to where I was going. This local gas station charged me a 30 cents gas fee. Yet this is the normal way to skim the top and make a lot of money off millions of poor people. I remember when gas stations had attendants pour the gas, check the oil and fill the car tires. It was service with a smile.

I wish one of these monster gas companies would be brave and bring the service attendants back. They could collect the cash and we could give them the service charge… instead of a fucking machine.

Every time we take away a person’s job and replace them with a machine, we become less human.

I went into the mini-market and the cashier, who seemed to be acting as an employe,  knew nothing about the fee and said,

“I don’t know why you are asking about it. You are the only one that cares? No one else has asked about it.”

I looked at her silently and squarely.

“You should know about it and all the things around you here. I must pay a fee and it is dirty filthy outside around the gas tanks. I remember the day…”

A man came forward and interrupted our conversation and the cashier looked away.

“Excuse us,” I said. “We are talking.”

I used a figure to point to the cashier and me.

“Grumble, “said the man under his breath.

I left telling the cashier she should lose her job for not knowing anything.

Then I came home to find standing outside my home a strange older man smoking a cigarette.

“Are you waiting for someone,” I said.

“No.”

“Then why did you park here?”

The street had no other cars around. He then looked up at the tree. I then asked him to please move his car I needed to part our truck there. He seemed nice enough for not having a reason for being there besides smoking a cigarette. We talked back and forth.

“We have had issues with drug dealers around here,” I said.

He soon left and I moved the truck out. I know I was being ridiculous. I thought it strange that he would get out of his car with his cell home in hand to smoke a cigarette under our lovely olive tree. I did say to him.

“I don’t like the smell of cigarettes and I am sure the tree doesn’t either.”

I think upon a poem I wrote that I have changed a bit.

Any time of the year but now it is moving into the Autumn poem.

Green-gold olives

This eve
I take my broom
Last ray of sun is dead here …
it is real…

The shy clouds hide stars
Only the Moon, Jupiter and Saturn shine their breastplates.
Of radiant light…

I take my broom to the front of our home into the dustpan goes
Dry brown and yellow
Pointy olive leaves and hard green-gold olives…

Into the waste bin… away away.
Goes all the thoughts of this day
Of a wooing Crone…
Looking around as I sweep and bend

For any Fay to show their haunting ways 
In the clouds sailing on the night or
Upon the grasping arms of the olive tree. 
Queen of Elphame mocks me
As I move quickly and consistently,
I call her Sabrina…

How symbolic have I become?
Wild movement… yet strangely calm.
Sweet sweat dripping
My dusty perfume…

I do as many an old Crone
Sweeping clean the front of their home
At this transforming time.
Today I am a nasty one...

 

 

 

 

Now Our Civil War


“Thus, it is our fate to manage within our nature the complexity and the competition of two opposing tendencies: that which stands with life and love (the Dionysian) and that which is greedy, power hungry, and ego-driven (the Titanic).” ~Aguilar, A. Marina. Alchemy of The Heart: The Sacred Marriage of Dionysus & Ariadne. Chiron Publications. Kindle Edition.

Civil War ~A war between opposing groups of citizens of the same country.

Hiawatha, Thomas Paine and Abraham Lincoln are examples of sensible leaders of humanity and bright governance. Which we lack now, and profoundly so. I must say that we are now in the mists of a civil war. Has anyone called it out yet? I will. At times like these I rest on the wisdom of leaders who are just and wise. A call to their spirit of wisdom is needed.

Will we stand aside and be enablers of this abuse on “we the people,” children, emigrants and the innocent? How can we do this? It is time to see this for what it is. A civil war.



Hiawatha


“As the smoke from many family fires rises tonight and spreads above the forest, let us remember,” he reminded the Iroquois, “that this smoke comes from many fires, and no one fire is better than another. Though one fire may burn brighter and another more faintly who is to say which is wiser? You know as well as I that there are times and seasons for both. Remember always that the truth springs from many hearts and takes many outer forms, no two ever the same. One in the Great Spirit, we shall have no one ruling shamans, for such traditions are warrior traditions and not the traditions of the Ongwhehonwhe. Let such customs be buried with our weapons. Let them lie forgotten beside the tree that is no more.” ~Hiawatha – Ruturn Of The Bird Trible.



Thomas Paine


“Can we possibly suppose that if governments had originated in a right principle, and had not an interest in pursuing a wrong one, the world could have been in the wretched and quarrelsome condition we have seen it? What inducement has the farmer, while following the plough, to lay aside his peaceful pursuit, and go to war with the farmer of another country? or what inducement has the manufacturer? What is dominion to them, or to any class of men in a nation? Does it add an acre to any man’s estate, or raise its value? Are not conquest and defeat each of the same price, and taxes the never-failing consequence? Though this reasoning may be good to a nation, it is not so to a government. War is the Pharo-table of governments, and nations the dupes of the game.” ~ pg. 178 Chapter II, Of the Origin of the Present Old Governments. ~ Thomas Paine



Abraham Lincoln


“That we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain – that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom – and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.”~ Abraham Lincoln


July 31st and the Jolly Rogers

Dad was a WWII Captain Pilot stationed in Australia. He flew a B-24. He flew with the Jolly Rogers Bomb Squad. He was shot down off the shore of New Guinea. His back was broken. He survived of course. July 31st is the day it happened. When I was a kid mom made up a cake with the shoreline of New Guinea with a B-24 on it. We always celebrated this day.

I did not realize until this morning that it was his special day. I have not celebrated it for a long time. Maybe dad is looking down and wants a little remembrance. I thank him for all the life he gave me. Rest in Peace and have a beer on me.

Dad is on the left nearest the Bimbo figure.

The film The Best Years of Our Lives (1946)  brings up what my dad and mom went through. It is a film about their generation.  Dana Andrews as Captain Fred Derry reminds me of my dad. Especially his struggles in life and with drinking. Dad was one of the fallen angels. I love watching this film because it helps me to understand and feel close to him. He was a real characters who was often hard to be with. I love him dearly.

Dad is holding a cigarette and mom is across from him.



Time of Coyote

Driving towards home the dark night held all the romance that a woman could ask for. Falling in love after 30 was not a goal. Looking out of the passenger seat coyote was eyeballing my lover. He looked back at the wild thing that was part of a mythology deep in this hill’s subconscious. Hadn’t he been on top of coyote hill and tasted the nectar of adventure? Once on top years earlier coyote turned to look as coyote defined his territory.  A wild thing knowing all those living there. A sacred path that went on for generations.  

Posts about Coyote

https://hudleyflipside.com/2014/02/17/coyote-hill/

https://hudleyflipside.com/2014/09/17/coyote-green-stone-story/

https://hudleyflipside.com/2014/03/19/yellow-behind-the-ears/

https://hudleyflipside.com/2017/11/23/autumn-magic-poem-7-all-wild-things-that-know-us/

 

 

 

 

A Letter to Bernie Taupin, Alfred E. Newman and Gahan Wilson.

Dear Teachers,

These are the Benadryl days.

Too much listening to Elton John and remembering my crush on Bernie Taupin. Foggy dreams. Dreams where the threads of remembering can’t be pulled down into this world. A changing mixture of memories swirling around me that I have experienced in real time.

As sitting under the pool table in the boy’s room reading Mad Magazine and Playboy. Alfred E. Neuman or cartoonist Gahan Wilson went on to inspire me in my own fanzine. Where I created images or doodled between the pages.

Magazines are now becoming obsolete. Newspapers stands too except for the billionaires that do resurrect some. A fight that is not gonna win.

To my teachers that came from those awesome perverted magazines.

Love,

Holly


Within our Nature

Thus it is our fate to manage within our nature the complexity and the competition of two opposing tendencies: that which stands with life and love (the Dionysian) and that which is greedy, power hungry, and ego-driven (the Titanic).

Aguilar, A. Marina. Alchemy of The Heart: The Sacred Marriage of Dionysos & Ariadne . Chiron Publications. Kindle Edition.

The Grecian god Dionysius sat enthroned on a leopard.

Wild thing

Wildflowers have taught me to be authentic. You cannot mess with a wildflower. If does its own thing Too much water or love and if will die. One must look at a wildflower with a sideways glance. Appreciation is appreciated. Don’t expect a sweetness without an inward determination or discernment from the wild thing.


Today while shopping the Sunday crowds were noticeable. The checkout lane was accepted. Yet even with the self-check out open and the 15 items or less open, two young men with several Styrofoam cups wanted to go first. They loomed close to me. Thinking my old women ways would be forgiving and stupid to the fact they would eventually ask the question.

And then it happened the young man said,

“Can you do us a favor…”

I said with well learned flower intention and assertion,

“No. There is a self-checkout over there and a 15 or less over there. Otherwise you need to chill and wait like the rest of us.”

I went ahead with the checkout process. These two young men then decided to enter my space. I had to tell them to please step back.

“You need to step back because you are invading my space.”

They were in front of the cash check machine. I had to bag my things. They were shaking their heads like I was playing the wrong card.

You cannot expect older mamas to be sweaty pie by force. If these two young men were older and needed my help, I would have let them through and bagged for them. But these guys thought wrong about me.

It felt good to say “no” and “back off.”

I did not use fuck, or stupid or use my hand finger. I was assertive and authentic like the wildflowers in my garden.




Mindfulness

“… but rather that it is the intangible things that imprint on us and we imprint on others that are most important… allow that magic to spread to your soul and enlighten you spiritually.” ~ Bear Medicine Walker / omtimes.com

Often our lessons in life come through illness. We all go through these experiences. As well as our  ancestors, loved ones and friends have. My illness has taught me a mindfulness of others who have gone through similar experiences. A family member or a friend that went through illness and died. Wasn’t it Madam Blavatsky who said, “We have neither friends nor enemies only teachers?”

An illness may be only a Physiology illness but I am experiencing mine as more. My illness is in the area of my heart. It is in my lungs and esophagus. The area of our hearts and lungs are what connect us to our friends, family and ancestors. As practicing mindfulness, it is helping me to see that all relationships are what Madam Blavatsky taught. Also that we all have a dark and light side.

Today I am writing an essay about two people who were, and still are, a big part of my life. I experienced their dark side and light side. Their joy and sadness are with me. I am hoping that this Tibetan Buddhism subtle mindfulness will help my two relationships that have passed on. In return helping me to let go of resentments and promote healing. As Raven from the Native American Medicine Wheel teaches, “Be strong, have faith and remember within all things are lessons and positives.”

Today my mindfulness is focused on two relationships, my long time girlfriend Lynn and my oldest brother Steven Jarva . Both were independent, shy and creative people. They both had an addiction. Lynn died of an overdose before she turned 50. Steven Jarva was an alcoholic and I was not close to him when he died so I don’t know what illness killed him in his early 70s.

Now for the good part through they both caused me pain, stress and unhappiness. They also brought me so much fun, joy and love. This also is a mindfulness of how they experienced me in life.

Lynn and I grew up playing as a profession. We were wild as the wind. Later in life she drove me and some other friends to high school every day.  She had a little brown VW Bug. She always had a tape of Crosby Stills Nash and Young on her cassette car radio.

Steven Jarva was my brother who I looked up to as a kid. He was 11 years older than I was. I painfully watched as he left our home at 18. He was a movie extra for years. He was a lady’s man and sailed on his own sail boat to Hawaii. He was a licensed scuba diving instructor. He took me sailing and I sat on the front tip or the ‘stuck.’.  Flying on the waves as a seagull. He had a Ford Falcon that he raced when he was younger. I learned about the Beatles listing to his 8-track tape of Rubber Soul while he worked on the engine with his cute friends.

That is it…. mindfulness…


 

vast…


“Although we are typically in the habit of perceiving our world in terms of solid shapes and forms,  Taoism teaches that we can train ourselves to perceive in other ways, and a good place to start is with our own human body. Though we may now experience our body as being rather solid, at a molecular level it is comprised mostly of water–a very fluid substance! And at an atomic level, it is 99.99% space–a vast (and infinitely intelligent) emptiness.” Online source …