Tag Archives: postaday

On my mind when i woke up….


I know what I write here. It is the pun-rock curse. A fan, promoter band thing. As a fan it was my dream to meet the bands and the promoters. The intimacy and friendships that formed are endearing for me. There was a time and place about eight years ago that I brought two bands together. Rikk Agnew Band (cult of ‘58) and The Black Widows (carry a big stick). It was a time when the San Fernando Valley was beaming with a few hot spots or punk and alternative music hubs. My one promotion time right after a 10-year  Flipside Fanzine flopped. My mom had just died and I had two boys that needed me at 8 and 16 and I was acting like the teenager… for a while.  Eight years ago is fast growing time for two boys. Life is new and exciting. Eight years for a 52-year-old is slow and precious. I introduced A Pretty Mess and Rikk Agnew and Panic Movement to a good night of old-time buddies and new ones. I was trying to bring together many aspects of the scene at that time and place that I loved. I like small shady clubs and intimate encounters. It was a happy night of loud live music. I was delighted and still think about that night often. I see that the Rikk Agnew Band and The Black Widows will be playing at Cafe NELA coming up this month. Sweet. I guess seeing this event brought back a few fantastic memories. So much has changed but this is so surreal & feels good to my old punk rock bones.


https://www.facebook.com/events/2180430575536192/?notif_t=event_calendar_create&notif_id=1535937037942310


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Bathed in its own reflection.


“By their fruits you will recognize them. Do people pick grapes from thorn bushes or figs from thistle?” ~ Mat. 7:16


Jerusalem, Plate 28 Proof Impression William Blake


 

My Mentor Tree and Eucalyptus Friend

“I AM WHO I AM,” and then said, “Tell the Israelis: ‘I AM sent me to you.'”~ ISV

This is a short story about a eucalyptus tree. A living friend, mentor and comforter.

My dad first visited the eucalyptus tree when he went horse back riding in the San Fernando Valley. Most likely the late 1940s.  He rode from Ventura Blvd towards the dirt hills of the Santa Monica mountains. It isn’t easy to imagine that there once was a horse stable located near Ventura Blvd. and Canoga Ave. He told me how he stopped one day under the eucalyptus tree and looked over the valley. Once he saw a for sale sign there, a hill covered with wild sage and wider nature. My dad made it happen. His brother was a carpenter / builder and his mother already invested in properties throughout the San Fernando Valley. They made his dream come true. They made it happen for my dad and mom. As a WWII Vet he secured a government loan.

Dad and his brother, Had, created a plan to build a house on that wild hill in the San Fernando Valley. They fought like brothers often do. My dad fought for the large sliding windows that looked over the valley. He also fought to build a house which cuddled around a eucalyptus tree.

I learned to climb that tree as I was learning to walk. The smell of the eucalyptus tree on foggy mornings before going to school or during rain storms often filled my bedroom. I climbed that beautiful tall tree on my way to the top of the red brick chimney often. Sometimes to see thunder storms break across the valley. There I silently sat  listening to the sound of  coyotes in the distance and viewed lights in the night sky. All of this magic still captures my imagination.

Once I left home I often went back to visit with my parents.  The first thing I would do was hug my eucalyptus tree. The seed pods from the eucalyptus are a wonder. Round and cone-shaped with a five-pointed star in the middle. Always a signal autumn was approaching.

Today a walk on a slightly foggy morning at the end of August brought back this memory of a eucalyptus tree I grew up with. I was beholding today to the only eucalyptus tree in my neighborhood. Whispering a scent and showing an aura that took me back to my nebulous childhood. The tree replied to me today, “”I AM WHO I AM.” Maybe this is the same whisper I always heard from my mentor tree and eucalyptus friend.


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 !!!!


Summer Poem number 2



I used to see anarchy & 
chaos much differently. 
Today I see it as something 
I will not agree to. 
Yet the will of an individual 
can be applied for the benefits 
of all or for only oneself. 
To harm others without caring. 

I used to think 
it was to bring all others 
to the table 
and to change 
and make new ways 
of seeing the 
world creativity 
and imaginatively. 
An individual can 
uniquely inspire a generation, 
or a few people, 
to be good human beings. 

Or the opposite 
can happen when an ego causes 
dark chaos & 
we are witnessing this now.  
It is a time to consider this all,
....
as very important parts of who we all are!? 
So much for August… it does this to me.

Small books…

 

As a long time do it yourself and or self-publisher it is always about the process of doing things myself. It is not always perfect. I learn as I go. I am much better at taking criticism now than I was when I was in my twenties. My worst critique is my own mind. My goal as a self-publisher is to forget about thinking that some other publisher is going to do it for me. Make it easier for me. I sometimes lull into that trap. My goal is to be able to continue to do it my way. I would like to eventually print up, made from recyclable material,  small books. Hand-held books. Some hand-held hard cover books some not. I love small books. They are interesting to me.

“A chapbook is a type of popular literature printed in early modern Europe. Produced cheaply, chapbooks were commonly small, paper-covered booklets, usually printed on a single sheet folded into books of 8, 12, 16 and 24 pages. They were often illustrated with crude woodcuts, which sometimes bore no relation to the text. When illustrations were included in chapbooks, they were considered popular prints.

“The tradition of chapbooks arose in the 16th century, as soon as printed books became affordable, and rose to its height during the 17th and 18th centuries. Many different kinds of ephemera and popular or folk literature were published as chapbooks, such as almanacs, children’s literature, folk tales, ballads, nursery rhymes, pamphlets, poetry, and political and religious tracts. The term “chapbook” for this type of literature was coined in the 19th century. The corresponding French and German terms are bibliothèque bleue (blue book) and Volksbuch, respectively. In Spain they were known as pliegos de cordel.[1][2][3]The term “chapbook” is also in use for present-day publications, commonly short, inexpensive booklets.[4]”


 

 

Summer [27 Anniversary] Poem #2



Would you could you
travel miles and miles
for delicious deep-fried
artichoke hearts?

I wanna go to Castervile CA
and eat some deep-fried
artichoke hearts
with spicy mayonnaise.

Near the lovely coastal region
close to Moss Landing,
a fucking pint at The Whole Enchilada
with a shot of hot vodka
with my anniversary man.

Take a walk on the beach
Smell the garlic in the air
mixed with the salty smell of tide pools
under the earthy breaths of
golden-green eucalyptus trees.

Lovely multicolored Monarch butterfly 
sweet bites of yellow-white 
lemon margarine pie
Pacific Grove embraces
never-ending waves
breathless roller coaster rides.


Summer Poem # 1



My oasis
And cave.

Not reaching out
But reaching within.

Agathos daimon holds my heart
Humidity holds me back.

“Coninuctio” “in mercurio”
Planting seeds
Which do not ripen.

Outside my oasis
Seeds dry in the heat.

Inside the cave
I listen to Mercurius speak.

“The desires of the mind
Will take you nowhere.”


No more daily prompts…spiritual and musical discernment.

I will miss the daily prompts on WordPress. When I created my blog almost 7 years ago it was so exciting to post and read other posts. I do less and less of the daily prompts, but I always go back to do them. Now I find it is all over with. Kind of like a club that goes out of business, or a group of friends that stop seeing each other. Nothing stays the same.

Takes me back to when I was going to university at Los Angeles Mount Saint Mary’s college. I attended 2004 to 2007. I enjoyed all the courses I took. I put 200 percent of my time into learning. I left because the curriculum started to sway a bit off its ecumenical track. There was a kind of pressure stating to form about preferences over whether one was a catholic or not.

I became very strong in my interreligious perspective. I love studying history, culture, myths, and humanity. I was getting very close to finishing the Master’s program. One course forced me to make a moral decision to leave the program.

I was in a very interesting course on spiritual discernment.  The course was taught by a Sister / Nun who was rather old and taught the course more like a high school course than a master’s course. I liked her, and she seemed filled with integrity until our confrontation about child abuse. Currently, it was in all the news. The Los Angeles Sex Abuse cases. It was very troubling for me to behold. My 6-year-old and 15-year-old sons where very near and dear to me. We were not attending any catholic church at the time, but I was still angry.

The Sister said to the class that all of this “child abuse ” will make the Church more authentic.  I stood up and said,

“…but Sister one child is too many, how can this be?”

Sister looked at me and said,

“That is, your opinion!”

I was overwhelmed. I finished the course with an in-depth paper on the Mandala! I got an A on my paper. Yet I continued to rub the head of the department the wrong way. I was heart-broken. I left. I paid off my student loan in a couple of years.

In 2007 I read this in the news, ” Catholic Church Settles Los Angeles Sex Abuse Cases for $660 Million.” Shocked but I  knew then that what I was feeling was my own spiritual discernment.  Mine was right on. I wanted to move towards becoming a chaplain. I wanted to work with helping others regardless of their age, sex, faith etc. Yet, there is one thing that is unacceptable. I am glad I left the program.

The end of the semester I left the university and went to my first music event in a long time. I attended the Wiltern Theater to see Black Rebel Motorcycle Club. My hair was to my butt and red. I was on a new path again. I never went back to the Wiltern, but I did revisit lots of bands and shows since then. It was a freeing time of spiritual and musical discernment. Black Rebel Motorcycle Club help[ed me through a rough time of heavy discernment!

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Women and Rally Poem … “Disk” … June 30, 2018

via Disk