My Three Solids until the day I die.


Punk Rock Historian and Professional Consultant

~ Hudley Flipside

All about a song and beyond !

Waiting in my garden


Beginning original post ! July 2022

What makes me the happiest is enjoying the continuity of songs that inspire my animus, helping in the process of my individuation.

To be who I am in this mysterious world. Conflicts and war, religiosity, and a woman’s right to choose moving through the air like bombs of emotionalism.

Poor anti-leaders who abuse their power in our world. War… Many things that make my voice in a world ridiculously small. Yet I keep speaking up and writing. As a mother… I have done well enormously proud of my decision to give birth, to create.

I am responsibility and caring. That is me and I am grateful to all the individuals who have nurtured me over the years.

Love is worth speaking about…. also, the love of a song, the ones who sing and create… that is my wonder to cherish as I am also my mother’s wild child.

Cheers







https://encrypted-tbn3.gstatic.com/licensed-image?q=tbn:ANd9GcRE0qGzY0zV3ZUeCjNPIXmwc1V1C-CqGqRGuNT65VYzrFYz-1bF7GHTN_n2LsdAB6v1iVf3-gKP6PUuzOE

Tomorrow November 5 2025.

My ode to The Saints.

In my active imagination comes a whisper in my ear declaring,

“I guess we meet where genius hides.”

I think of my three solids. One I will see tomorrow.

It shatters any genre of my three solids. The alchemy is in me. Yet tomorrow I just don’t know how my mind will embrace the sounds of his guitar, of Ed’s frequency live?

Will I implode and turn to ash. When Ivorplays his drums, will the vibrations go-go down my spine and shatter what’s left of this fragmenting crone vertebra?

Their vinyl has sustained me these many many years… but we all know that is simply different from the wild variable of a live ambiance’s charm! 

Oh, unbearable is this waiting to see The Saints live!

What a turn on! The whole current line- up!



Stephen Stills

“For What It’s Worth,” “Bluebird” and “Rock & Roll Woman” are three of my favorites moving songs performed by Buffalo Springfield’


Ed Kuepper

“Nights in Venice,” “Demolition Girl “and “Church of Indifference” are just fucking profound songs.


Jock Blyth

Playing his hardcore punk sounds “Freak,” “Pins and Needles” and “Stormchaser”


Songs that sample their sound… I love them through and through. Thanks!

* Stephen Stills born Dallas–Fort Worth metroplex, the fourth-largest metropolitan area; Buffalo Springfield 1966–1968.

* Ed Kuepper: Edmund Kuepper was born on 20 December 1955 in Bremen, then part of West Germany. His family migrated to Australia in the 1960s and settled in Brisbane. The Saints 1976-1979.

* Colin “Jock” Blyth: GBH were early pioneers of British street punk, often nicknamed “UK82”, along with Discharge, Broken Bones, The Exploited, and The Varukers (Charged) GBH: 1978–present.


As I awoke from my existential childhood there are three guitarists who have had a profound wake-up call on my soul, body, and mind. From generations the 60s through to the present. Making me happy because these three guys are still moving around the planet and continue to play their songs.

Though I never had the privilege of meeting Stephen Stills, or Ed Kuepper I have met Jock Blyth.

I am friends with Ed on Facebook and Instagram and maybe my annoyance as a fan has zapped him now and then. Because my only addiction in life is the band The Saints.

I don’t ride my generations as a cult but as scenes mingling amongst sounds and friends. In real time, life and on the internet. The 1960s, 1970s and beyond had the most influence on my life as the DNA that makes up my soul.

As a senior citizen, I am pretty well saturated. Open and way past the need to wake up now. It is the sound of these three that calm me, set me free and make me feel bitchin’.

I was overwhelmed and happy watching Billy Porter perform “For What It’s Worth” with Stephen Stills at the 2020 Democratic National Convention. Or seeing Buffalo Springfield on an old episode of Mannix from the 1960s.

Or being moved deep down when listening to Ed perform The Aints’s song “You’ll Always Walk Alone” on YouTube.

Or reading Jock write about how he enjoys Tripel beer, a style of brew with roots in the Belgian Trappist tradition on Facebook as GBH tour Northwestern Europe.


SONY DSC

Now all within the comfort of my cave.





Babes That Keep Giving

These are a handful of Babes that keep giving. They have influenced generations by their singing, music, and right and left hand creative endeavors.

Alicia “Alice” Armendariz ~ Alice Bag from The early LA Band The Bags  

Annette Celia Genevieve Zilinskas ~The Bangles, Blood on the Saddle…  

Julie Lanfeld-Keskin ~ Sin 34  (RIP)

Kim Morris – Bass and vocals The Thingz  

Susan Janet Ballion aka Siouxsie Sioux~The Creatures, Siouxsie and the Banshees.



We are living through kind of depressing days. I think it is a nice time to share humor and look to some darn strong women!

Babes that keep giving.

I love the term BABE. It means so many things. Here at FLopside Comics Mr. Fuck and Mr. Shit mean it in a HIGH FIVE way. Lovers, girls, and best friends. Yet they also use the word ‘dude’ the same way when referring to their friends that are girls.

Girls, gals, women, females, dames, dolls, and broads.

Mr. Shit does not use proper English and prefers to use “that” instead of “who”… it is a slang thing… yet Babes Who keep Giving he said,

“Is fucking OK too.”

 










The Call Of the Holy Baubo Protagonist.



The evil shadow of history comes forward again…

The highest court of our land is making it impossible for women to care for their own bodies. When women are deflowered or devalued it is time to look at the other sex… the male, especially all conservative moronic males, and their bitches…. Time to address their sperm and ask the big question,

“If a man gets a woman pregnant without the holy affirming blessing of the great Baubo herself, then off with his balls, or head … whichever. What do you think about that justice?”

    – A Flopside Comic- crew rhetorical question !


Over the last few years I have worked with the image, ideal, psychology, mythology or biology of Baubo.

We on crew made a FLopside cOmic awhile back with my art.

A FLopside Bubblegum comic.


LAMPOONERY~ Baubo Protagonist



Baubo Protagonist


Chris Bailey’s psychic being is still very strong

Nov 29, 1956 to April 9, 2022.


“A gentleman with the mad soul of an Irish convict poet’: remembering Chris Bailey, and the blazing comet that was The Saints.”

~John Willsteed


Rendering of the band The Saints. Hudley Flipside, 2010.

Happy I bought tickets to see the reformed Saitns this November in Southern California. Autumn 2025.


The author reflects on their deep connection to the band The Saints, particularly after the death of Chris Bailey.

Hudley expresses grief for both Bailey and the passage of time over the decades.

The band has been a part of her life journey, leading to discovering a sense of belonging among misfits and a punk community.

Hudley connects her experiences with Bailey’s life timeline, moving from youth to adulthood.

In her grief, she turns to the works of Carl Jung for solace, recalling insights from The Black Books.



I call it random reading. I read from the last paragraph, allowing my mind to wander freely within the words. The intuitive response is amazing to me, as each reading seems to unearth memories and thoughts I had long buried.

Encouraging action also flows from this process, inspiring me to take bold steps forward. So, with this so much is shared, whether it’s with friends or in solitude, and I am content to move on past my grief, cherishing the lessons learned along the way.

Into a new season of life, knowing that, life endures and blossoms in unexpected ways… this gives me hope like finding the Sun, illuminating the path ahead and igniting a renewed sense of purpose within me!

“In this moment the enormous tension was released and like rain it swept away [57/58] everything that was tensed, too highly strung. And soon sleep returned and brought with it a curiously beautiful image.” {138}

(p.162) The Black Books, Volume Two, Carl Jung

“Forms walked clad in white silk in a colored atmosphere. Each surrounded by a strangely fragrant, glowing tinted aura, some reddish, the others blueish and greenish.” {139}

{138} “This paragraph was replaced in LN by “Then I had a second vision.”



Chris Bailey “a curiously beautiful image”


The Saints (Barry Francis, Ivor Hay, Janine Hall, Bruce Callaway, Chris Bailey) at The Hero of Waterloo, Sydney. 1980. Picture by Judi Dransfield Kuepper. Image taken from an article by John Willsteed. Link Below.


https://theconversation.com/a-gentleman-with-the-mad-soul-of-an-irish-convict-poet-remembering-chris-bailey-and-the-blazing-comet-that-was-the-saints-181059?fbclid=IwAR3o-g8RRKpyNxgIQ6x7QsihP9fTBaDqaBZhzozuQI0oHlaWVenjLWeZ_F8


“Jung recounted this dream to Aniela Jaffé and commented upon it as follow: This is some kind of in-between realm (the term definitely occurs in the original version of the dream) The idea was that if one is confronted with the shadow- as was the case through the experience of Siegfried’s dream then the idea comes:

I enter into a twilight: I am this and yet also something else. And this doubleness an abdication of the unconscious, which reached strangely far beyond me.

If one is in the company of several persons, and one knows them and knows about their shadows, one then sees these people as they are, but are also something entirely different. They are surrounded by a strange sphere.

They live in a strange, light-colored sphere, which circumscribes their ‘other’ state. This seemed to me to be like a vision of the world beyond, where men are whole and complete, unlike here. The saint’s halo also characterizes his transcendent shining light, his psychic being.”

{139} (MP, p. 170)

The reminder of this entry was replaced in LN by “I know, I have stridden across the depths. Through guilt I have become newborn.” (p.162)  Carl Jung’s Black Books. Volume two page 175-6.


Siegfried’s dream http://mlwi.magix.net/siegfried.htm https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Black_Books_(Jung)



radiance of words

I found this little altarpiece at my local bookstore. St. Francis fell out at one time and his head came off … but I glued it back on. I keep this on my hearth.

And though I am not Catholic I do love the mythology, history and narrative of his life and the Poor Clares.


Star Flower


Walking around the block a mile this evening, I thought upon wars happening on our Mother earth!

How despondent and sad I become.

At the same time a memory comes forward of a time in the early 1990s on Long Island New York.

I was visiting with the Poor Clares and the Franciscan Brothers. I corresponded with Sister Philomena for years. She told me once,

“It is best you join the world again. Meet someone, settle down, get married and have children.”

And so, I did.

As I was walking, I looked and saw a star blossom upon the ground I said to myself,

“Star I see you within this flower.”

I thought instantly of the Canticle of Brother Sun and Sister Moon by St. Francis of Assisi.

Once years ago, I awoke to an invitation one morning to join in the reading of this with the Brothers and Sisters.

How lovely it felt to be there and feel such radiance of words.

The point of my memory and experience tells me this.

That we live in a contrary world of both beauty and heartache.

It is up to us to balance within ourselves these contraries the best we can.

I often fail!


“Praised be You

my Lord through our Sister,

Mother Earth

who sustains and governs us,

producing varied fruits with

colored flowers and herbs.

Praise be You my

Lord through

those who grant pardon for

love of You and

bear sickness and trial.”


Butterfly Crone Mantis.

Southern California Women’s Caucus for Art.

Contact Email : socalwomenscaucus@gmail.com

Opening Reception: Saturday, August 8, 5-8 PM

Artist Talk: Saturday, August 15, 2-4 PM

Location: TAG Gallery, 5458 Wilshire BLVD., Los Angeles, CA

Hours: Wednesday -Sunday 1-7 PM.

Not the Crone mantis but just as well. My form of animalism includes the Praying Manis. My friend of nature. The ability to blend. We must balance “sacredness with irrelevance.” As a woman, a survivor, I find this holiness while being creative.

Holy Baubo Defeats the Inquisition and Okosimaan.

Holy Baubo.

She hangs on our bedroom wall.

I see her often taunting me to call.

An ancient arcane figure deep within my being

I hear her speaking.

Often repeating

Her laughter to Demeter

Fragrant womb of all!

Okosimaan.

Based on the Three sisters- Mandaamin, Mashkodiisimin, and Okaosminaan as Corn, Beans and Squash gifts from the Thunder Beings and reminders of Wenabozho’s humble prayer.

“Thunder beings he cried, my heart is low. The people are starving. Even I, your friend, am weak with hunger. I ask not for myself alone., but for all to eat.”

The creation story for the Anishinaabe Indigenous peopled in the Great lake region of Cananda and the United States.

When I was studying religious studies in university, I was curious why my professor skipped this period, the Inquisition, in our religious history class. Holy Baubo showed up to show me why. So, we stayed up late one night and produced a humorous perspective of how to solve this issue. Not just skip it but deal with it.

Last Thanksgiving I wanted to be more traditional. America or Turtle Island finding that touch with our Indigenous friends. I was introduced to the story of Corn, Beans and Squash. It was how the three grew together. What looked like a messy garden was really a wholeness that each plant gave to the other for its survival and growth. A wonder story one should find and ponder.

Both watercolors framed 9 by 11 inches. Available for purchase.



“The butterfly teaches us to not be afraid of change and transformation for, as warm and fuzzy as a caterpillar may be, it is the butterfly that lives fully and beautifully after having endured the fear and darkness of the unknown to reach the light outside the cocoon.”

~ Pg. 178, SUN BEAR.



Sharing and setting limitations.

I had two dreams last night where my animus was most distinctly attracting my curiosity. I was offered delicious food which I did not have to go shopping for or cook. Then in another dream I was kissed on the neck and lips gently as in some film noir by a man who looked like Tyrone Power. My animus, the unconscious masculine side of a woman, was asking for attention.

I am listening!

Then awake from the dream world enjoying the morning, I was outside with the cats in my garden. A lovely butterfly came with the usual circle dancing up to me from the west. I was focused on the symbol of spring as my cats. Thinking it was a bit early for such a transformation to happen.

I went back into my cave and did research.

I pulled out two books: The Once & Future Goddess, A Symbol for Our Time by Elinor W. Gandon (1989) and Dancing with the Wheel the Medicine Wheel, Workbook by SUNBEAR (1991).

As always, I learned new things about art, nature and being in tune with a moments time of learning, is so important, synchronicity wise.

“Raven writes about what a courageous act of self-exposure it is for a woman to positively identify herself with her work and say something that challenges the existing and prevailing worldview. When she expresses herself without the support of a social, economic, and cultural base she has not participated in the mainstream of the culture. “The culture does not operate from her perspective. Her contribution has neither spoken to it, nor been understood by that system,” which is just what happened to Judy Chicago…

An energetic, assertive woman freely in touch with her own sexuality, and working directly from the erotic power, Chicago evolved an abstract form, the butterfly-vagina. This symbol was to become the core of her new iconography in The Dinner party, a monumental and complex work of art that is often misunderstood…

The idea is obviously not to reduce all women to cunts, as society itself often does. [Chicago] sees the butterfly as metaphysical references to the whole issue of that it means to be ‘feminine,’ how that word reveals the slant in our values and how those values can be challenged by using the vernacular imagery of the female,

“I was struggling with the issue of making the feminine holy.”

 Pg. 322 The RE-EMERGENCE OF THE GODDESS: A SYMBOL OF OUR TIME.

  • Arlene Raven (Arlene Rubin: July 12, 1944, Baltimore, Maryland – August 1, 2006, Brooklyn, New York) was a feminist art historian, author, critic, educator, and curator. Raven was a co-founder of numerous feminist art organizations in Los Angeles in the 1970s.


Time is mine now “like good angels, walk at either hand.”

As the year comes to a close or “crashing close’” as a friend of mine described it I just feel like I am “drifting.” Yet in my heart and mind I feel something stirring as projects, impossible goals, and dreams. If I can live as long as Betty White did there are numerous things to aspire too. I call my muses to agree with me. I call upon my imagination of hopes and possibilities and by the Graces I will be happy in my cave during a pandemic that crosses this border between two years of 2021 and 2022.

I start with a new random book pick and first paragraph I see to read. I pull the mighty hand of praying mantis and so the book is found. I open the book and so I see a quote and now I write it down.

“Filial and fraternal love must satisfy her, and grateful that such ties are possible, she lives for them and is content. Literature is a fond and faithful spouse, and the family that has sprung up around her… is a profitable source of satisfaction to her maternal heart… Not lonely… not idle, for necessity, stern, yet kindly teacher, has taught her the worth of work: not unhappy, for love and labor, like good angels, walk at either hand.”

“Happy Women” Essay by Louisa May Alcott. / Pg. 171 The Heroine with 1,000 FACES By Maria Tatar


Time movement

This is my winter solstice poem for 2021


Water drop in time. by Hudley Flipside 2021

There is something

Real and magical

Between a breeze

And the top of a

Pool of water

An in between language

A pattern of symbols

Mandalas, ancient texts

It gets talking so fast

I don’t understand it all.

Then Silence as is now.

I wait

Beginning again

A rich diplomatic dialogue

Transcendence

Old time ancient rhymes.

Spirit moved across the face of the waters still…

How it moves upon the face of my waters

This ancient

Rogue tongue….

Breathe it in …

A constant story

For us all

rebuilding

renewing

Inspiring life to unfold …

An in-between place

I wait for the elves …

The Fay move …

stretch and turn.

– Hudley

Mythos of Punk Rock




My story is a tributary that flows into a larger living water of music that is beyond me now. For all those that were there from the beginning I know you have a story to share too.

~ Hudley Flipside



2019 is when I completed the template on my memoir. Catching images and people that still run through my psyche.

Just the other night in a dream I ended up backstage. The door opened and before I knew it five big punks from a band, and I were taking pictures. Their friendly arms around me made me feel inclusion.

It is a time that still haunts me. As in every generation of my life. All are unique times. Vastly changing and different generations.

 I wrote My Punkalullaby as my two boys were growing up. It is not a perfect story, but it does hold a mythos of punk rock. I just received copyright for my book. I am celebrating three years of mission complete as my book moves into the world. A rebellious history about a young woman who help document a punk rock scene.

It is comforting to know that several of the bands I love are still out playing. There is not a scene like there once was but now the punk genre is solid and so the story moved forward.

Below is an excerpt of Christmas day 1978.

“One empty Christmas day, Crazy Keith and I took the bus from South Gate to Woodland Hills where my folks lived. We had to make a stop in Hollywood to transfer buses. The hollow feeling as we waited for the bus on Hollywood Boulevard still impresses me with the echo of merry-go-round music.

A miniature one was going around and round on top of a truck parked nearby. There was an offbeat sound of music, and trash filled a lonely boulevard before us. An old lady down the street walked slowly toward the bus stop where we sat. She was searching in trash cans.

When she reached us, the skinny crippled woman held out a half-eaten apple. Not as a gift but for money.

I lost Crazy Keith a year later somewhere to someone and quickly got over his obnoxious, talkative, and controlling personality and moved on.”

~ MY PUNKALULLABY, HUDLEY FLIPSIDE


Click on image below to take you to where My Punkalullaby is sold.


Ritual helps…

Limited Run Block Print by Matthew Hunt
https://www.facebook.com/kittykiller13

“And so, the stars see you.

While you drift away they have their own courses and they watch you.

And listen, they already know your name.”


I viewed part of Bob Dole’s church funeral yesterday. I was touched by a song You Never Walk Alone sung at the event from the musical Carousel. A favorite musical of mine. Richard Rodgers (music) and Oscar Hammerstein II (book and lyrics) 1945. I had to look deeper into this event.

At this funeral I heard and saw diversity shared. I saw President Biden, the 42nd President Clinton and even the only person not wearing a mask Texas’s Ted Cruz.

Trump was not there because he and Bob Dole had a falling away over last year’s election issues.

I was surprised not seeing President Obama. Yet Tom Hanks talked at a WWII memorial after the service. A memorial that Bob Dole willed into being.

A ritual like this brings diversity together. Even in such troubling times. Strange conspiracy theories and political conflicts are uncomfortable to see, and now I feel our country is lost. I feel lost.

I listened to, storyteller, author, and scholar of mythology, anthropology, and psychology, Michael Meade’s podcast MOSAIC VOICES last night and he talked about how important ritual is. The act is all inclusive.

And whether a person is conscious of even being part of ritual … rituals bring us tighter together. It is an inclusive and wonderfully experienced reality to share.

Concerts and clubs or music and bars bring people together to join in this type of ritual. I have learned that this is what brings us together tighter. To experience this inclusiveness. As a cave dweller I miss this.

As the Winter darkness embraces us this solstice, I feel the darkness. Uncomfortably so. Yet it is up to me to find the light and share in the light where I can find it in this overwhelmingly troubled world.

Michael Mead also shares a poem entitled “When You Get Lost” by William Stafford.


What Happens When You Get Lost

By William Stafford

Out in the mountains nobody gives you anything.

And you learn what the rules were after the game is over.

By then it is already night and it doesn’t make any difference

What anyone else is thinking or doing because now you have to

Turn into an Indian.

You remember stories and now you know that the tellers were

Part of all they told.

And everyone else was, and even you.

They’re all around you now, but if you’re afraid you will never find them.

And those questions that people always ask-

“What would you do if…”

They have their own answer right now- nothing.

Some things cannot be redeemed in a hurry no matter what the intentions are.

What could be done had to have been done a long time ago.

Because mistakes have consequences that do not just disappear.

If evil could be canceled easily it would not be very evil.

And so, the stars see you.

While you drift away they have their own courses and they watch you.

And listen, they already know your name.


I find ritual in writing too and I think,

“Oh Boy, I got to write this down!”

This holiday season 2021 I have decided to buy all my Christmas gifts from friends who are part of the ritual of the creative life. All artists are mostly local and some in other states.

I want to share in their joy. What it is for an artist when they feel someone enjoys their work. Also, to experience the wonder of something created and willed forth into this world as an expression that has value to the artist and me. That is inclusion and that is the ritual.

My way of experiencing ritual and bringing light into the world and beyond!



A call to our Holy BAUBO PORTAGONIST


She hangs on our bedroom wall.

I see her often taunting me to call.

An ancient arcane figure deep within my being

I hear her speaking.

Often repeating

Her laughter to Demeter

Fragrant womb of all!

I feel a need to share these two Flopside cOmics today.

It has been a while since I have. The female collective psyche is taking a blow right now. This is my way of walking us all through it. A friend once asked me,

“But is it, Art?”

That is not the point. Instead, it is creative expression by someone who likes to express her throat chakra often for healing purposes.

As this gal here is good at doing.

BAUBO made Demeter laugh after the loss of her daughter Persephone.




Bubblegum Flopside cOmics… so


Ophiuchus


Ophiuchus (November 30 – December 18th) 13th constellation


Asclepius Trained by Chiron.

Rod of Asclepius, staff of Asclepius

The Serpent – entwined Rod (One)

Ophiuchus (November 30 – December 18th) 13th constellation. Even today, the staff of Asclepius – the symbol of the world health organization pays tribute to the constellation Ophiuchus the Serpent Bearer.

Ophiuchus was associated with Asclepius, the son of the God Apollo. He became a great healer – in part because of an encounter with a snake one day, he saw one snake and resurrected another laying some herbs on it. Zeus names him the serpent bearer.

As she (Koronis (coronis)) was being consumed on her funeral pyre, he (Apollon) snatched her baby (Asklepios, Asclepius) from the fire and took him to the Kentaros. Kheiron (Centaur Chiron) who was raised by him, taught him medicine, and hunting.



Lyrics

There’s great danger (danger)
For the loneliest ranger in town
No silver bullets (bullets)
Tonto’s split the scene

Next week will solve your problems
But now, fish fingers all in a line
The milk bottles stand empty
Stay glued to your TV set (TV)

There’s great danger (danger)
At hand most caped crusader of all
No cloak of justice (justice)
Robin’s quit the scene

Next week will solve your problems
But now, fish fingers all in a line
The milk bottles stand empty
Stay glued to your TV set (TV)

Stay glued to your TV set
(TV) Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
(TV) Stay glued to your TV set
(TV) Oh, why, don’t ya, don’t ya, don’t ya?
(TV) Stay glued to your TV set (TV)
(TV) Stay glued to your TV set
(TV) Oh, why, don’t ya, don’t ya, don’t ya?
(TV) Stay glued to that and your TV set (TV)



A dame dumps on a long-time friendship.

JOHNNY O’CLOCK

Trouble….!

Mr. Noir Alley cool man said he has viewed this film six times and does not get it. What is it about? Like most Film Noir it is not so easy for some to get it.

As when reading literature or watching Film Noir it does not always follow a linear journey. Sometimes it is like walking labyrinth and you just got to let the heart feel the way.

Love and it’s shadow are the main players here. Good and rotten characters are par for the course that play in different hubs that always lead to the moments of awareness. Therefore, I love Film Noir.

Johnny o’clock is a wise guy with a decent heart. He is part of many hubs. People and their problems are his game, what he capitalizes on. We are watching or dealing with a person and their light and shadow or their psyche.

Such as Harriet Hodson & Nancy Hodson or Nelle & Guido Marchettis. Also, the good and bad cop. Inspector Koch or Chuck Blayden are played against each other in their own hub through this labyrinth.

Inspector Koch and the Good Johnny

Love is not always mutual, and crime does not always pay for everyone. Sometimes a hunch is stronger than an intellectual wise guy.

The film JOHNNY O’CLOCK has a nice flow and touches all those erogenous places. Smooth, jumpy and sadness as well as hate & love infuse the atmosphere of this film.

Like ground up coffee grounds

Today I was looking at all the bullies in my life.

On Facebook I noticed a friend put up a thought. When she was young, she thought she was ugly. Now much older she realizes how lovely she really was. I am glad she found this out about herself.

I hang fabric up to cover half of my windows. I do this to enjoy the shadow and light on the fabric. When the window is open the fabric moves and I often see the texture and fun pattern within the fabric. As one lives a long life one can begin to see shadows, light, texture, and the pattern of one’s life. This is a wonderful ability I have acquired in my life. My insight is reflection the ability to see my life as a pattern with texture and light and shadows.

Elementary school there were two major bullies. Both I followed through what we called Jr. High and then High School. Lisa and Lori were the worst of the worst. They were pretty, popular, and mean to all those who were not part of their click, I always let their image of me influence my self-worth.

Now I know that it was not about me but about them. I do not believe them anymore.

Also, when I had my white mustang Sony, I found instead of everyone enjoying my bliss and best friend. Jealousy took hold and nasty gossip formed. The boy next door started the lies, and this gossip ran its course throughout Jr. High and High School. I cannot even imagine how pungently immoral the gossip was. The collective shadow of peers is a grandiose thing to have to deal with.


Now as a crone an older woman I can look back with a type of disconnection. I like myself now more than I ever have. These new positive feeling shine out and my libido is renewed with hope and creativity. Those old ways burn down and fly away into the underworld of no more.

Like ground up coffee grounds. Fragrant, recyclable and transformed. Soul soil for new possibilities.

Bob and Zachery, Grease lightning and the Green Sweater.

The Green Sweater

Living on the east coast in Rochester New York as a Home Health Aide was challenging work. I went into strange homes with new family customs that I had to learn and respect. I experienced diversity and listened to the stories of mostly older patients.

The family owned a Chinese restaurant. During the afternoon while the family was working, I took care of the matriarch. A mother who had a stroke. I did all I could to make her life as comfortable as I was trained to do. I collaborated with the nurses and physical therapist that visited once a week.

This lady was a rock on what she wanted. She would often hit me. I would let her know that was not appropriate. We would battle it out sometimes. Yet overall, I knew she liked me. I enjoyed her company too.

Her sons brought me a meal from their restaurant for lunch every day. I love Chinese food, so it was an incredibly special treat. Sweet and Sour Pork, lots of greens and noodles.

I was not use to the freezing weather and snow. Living on the west coast my whole life I found driving on black ice especially scary while driving to the home of this family who lived out in the country.

As the patient got better, she no longer needed my service. The day I left this strong woman gave me a gift. She would not take no for an answer and gave me a lovely Asian green sweater with lovely buttons. They were round and covered with a type of enamel with little designs.

I loved it and so when I traveled back home to California it was one of my prized possessions.

I ended up in Santa Cruz California. One night while I went out with my man, I had one too many Grease lightnings. The bartenders at the Poet and Patriate Pub were supplying us with many a pint. Bob and Zachery combined Amestein Lager with Guinness. We coined it “Grease lightning” because once served you had to power it down.

A big biker dude came up to my man and asked,

“Hey John why do you two power down your brews?”

John just smiled and then we walked over to play some darts.

On one of our many adventures playing darts with the local community of poets and patriots, or a few pirates, I got suckered into a conversation with an incredibly sad lady. She was cold on St Paddy’s Day and was not wearing green. I was wearing my green sweater, with green shirt and green shoes. I had plenty of green on. So, I said she could wear it a little while to warm up. The night went on and as I left to the lady’s room when I came back, she was gone and so was my lovely green sweater. I even told her my green sweater story story.

As we left that night to walk home, I heard one last song playing from the pub. One of my favorite Irish tunes. So, I danced the jig in the parking lot next to the pub. Then out of nowhere I swear a large Leprechaun danced awhile with me. We laughed and danced.

Around 1991 John and I sure did have some good nights at that local Pub in Santa Cruz. Wherever the green sweater is I hope whom ever has it is enjoying it’s beauty and warmth.

open to mama’s influence…

Esoteric knowledge is affecting a vast part of our modern culture. Having known this through foresight for years I realize that within our unconsciousness is magic, brightness and truth, directly opposed to a contrary reality, part of our often diabolically troubled world.


Synchronicity, the doppelganger, mystical numbers, and foresight are things I have talked about with my sons as they grew up. Reading Grimm’s fairy tales, watching scary films, other dimensions, and hope, are qualities I have magically graced upon them. They both are scientists and know their math and computers… yet they are still open to mama’s influence.

Recently my son had his best friend over to watch a film. Oldest son is converting his old room into an office for game streaming and my publishing company. Two sons and Sebastian watched Jordan Peele’s film US. (2019 film).

My son told me it was like having “my mama standing right next to me” talking about all the things you always talk about. I have not viewed the film, but I am intrigued because I recently released an image to Jordan’s new horror film coming out next year. Now that is a small, interesting synchronicity.

Oldest Son and Sara Taft California

Also, son told me that the town of Santa Cruz CA is in the film US. He was born in Santa Cruz Ca in 1992.

I think he is part of my often-misunderstood delusional world of foresight. Where art imitates life or life imitates art. This is less about me and more about my son. I don’t really want to see a film that entertains what I experience in real life. Yet I feel bitchin’ that my son and Jordan Peele get it!

“Mumbling an explanation, muttering servile civilities”

It was a very sad day when Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade, ending right to abortion upheld for decades. (Updated June 24, 2022.)

What will grow from this strange mire is unthinkable but as we saw in Kansas, women had their say against the Supreme Court decision. I would be worrisome, Justice Brett M. Kavanaugh and Associate Justice Amy Coney Barrett, about what is about to grow from this mire. For what will come up from the mire to take you, the inverted liberators, down. Shame on you. We will get our justice buy the good votes of many women and our supporters.


It is ironical that the Uranus (Promethean) ~ Aquarian spark for freedom may be inverted into the dark mire once more… into the darkness of our collective unconscious… again.


The many women as, Christine Blasey Ford, Badges… by Hudley Flipside.

“Approaching her property, I noticed a person in Persian lamb, very vexedly pouncing the bell, pounding a brass knocker. “God damn you, Mabel, “she said to the door; then turned, glared at me as I climbed the steps- a tall, intimidating replica of frail unforbidding Miss Marianne Moore (who, it may be recalled, is a Brooklyn lady too). Pale lashes eyes, razor lips, hair a silver fuzz. “Ah, you. I know you,” she accused me, as behind her the door was open by an Irish crone wearing an ankle length apron. “So, I suppose you’ve come to sign the petition? Very good of you, I’m sure.” Mumbling an explanation, muttering servile civilities, I conveyed the butcher’s parcel from my hands to her’ she, as though I’d tossed her a rather rotten fish, dangled it generally until the maid remarked. “Ma’am, ‘tis Mis Mary’s meat the good lad’s brought.”


~ Page 239, A House on the heights, Portraits and Observations, The Essays Of Truman Capote.

Associate Justice Brett M. Kavanaugh and Associate Justice Amy Coney Barrett.

Justice Amy January 28, 1972 (age 49) New Orleans, Louisiana, U.S ~ Sun sign Aquarius.

Justice Brett February 12, 1965 (age 56) Washington, D.C., U.S.~ Sun sign also Aquarius.

Reflecting on US Supreme Court to hear Texas abortion law case on Nov 1 2021. We can participate by listening to live oral arguments.


I will never forget when Justice Amy stated that she read the complete works of Truman Capote in high school. I think upon his creative genius. He was born September 30, 1924, New Orleans, Louisiana, U.S. ~ Sun sign Libra.

Two new Aquarius Associate Justice’s, before us now, will influence this vote. Will Truman’s creative genius and good balanced personality indirectly persuade equality for all women’s’ rights?

A private personal issue of the womb is now before the highest court of the land. I am perplexed and troubled. I look to Truman’s influence on Justice Amy. Somewhere in her is the creative Aquarian spark? Hoping It will inspire justice and good conscious beyond and above this dark mire of politics that face us currently.

In 2019 I heard the infamous Henry Rollins confess before an audience that he grew up in the world of Brett Kavanaugh. He seemed to be apologizing for himself and this awkward Associate Justice. A man who took voice away from a good woman. Silencing Sexual assault allegations by Christine Blasey Ford.


Will he also do the same for Roe v. Wade, the women’s liberation movement, the suffragettes and Planned Parenthood? The list goes on!



Ritual Interlude: Crone’s Crowning.


I have been working on this project for some time and waited until the summer solstice to complete. This ritual is part of the native American medicine wheel of nature.

It is helpful in times of change, pain, and grieving. All about transformation and death, yes, we are all going through a type of world initiation, making this small offering to help others seems a creative opportunity to share from the inside out. Where the feminine and nature come tighter together to heal.

It is almost as if humanity is collectively going through a civil war between the ego and the psyche, science and religion, common sense, and emotionalism.

I look out the computer room window, my cave. and wonder and talk with the crones from the four directions.



East Crone



Crones of The East

those who sing

the songs of the transforming

The songs of the dying

And songs of the universe.


South Crone



Crones of The South

those who stir the caldron

Of change

That set the feast

For the transforming

And dying.


West Crone



Crones of The West

those who open the door

To the transforming

And the dying

And shed the tears of letting go.


North Crone



Crones of The North

those who wait in the realm of the transforming

The realm of the dying.

Silently helping with smiling faces.


Inspired by Susun S. Weed

Book: Menopausal Years, The Wise Woman Way

Alternative Approaches for Women 30 – 90


A new Flopside comic

Wicked Men



I watched two films last night. The films are Wicked Woman and Zorba the Greek. In general, both are particularly excellent films. One is a 1950s Film Noir, and the other is a cultural film from the 1960s.

Each film captures a time in history. A snapshot of how things may have been. Characters in both films are believable, realistic while also having a diabolical and magical edge.

As a woman I captured a motif. It came forward and it uncomfortably struck up against my conscious feminine. Both films are from a winning male psychology.

The men can fuck up, screw up, cheat, lie and even kill. They get away with it and so have a happy conclusion. Almost unaware as they walk over all the women in their lives.

The women on the other hand always get the short end of the stick.

They get let down, lied to, abandoned, used, and killed.



In the film Wicked Woman Beverly Michaels as Billie Nash is an independent woman who is on the move to find a place to put her roots. Roots within a man and a place in the sun. Billie keeps playing One Night in Acapulco by Buddy Baker, on the jute box.

She is tall, smart, and has a graceful walk. Men are after her the whole time. The one time she focuses on a man, he takes her for a fool, and they plan a sinister plot that fails!

Richard Egan, as Matt Bannister gets off the cheating hook and Billie is extorted, seduced, and must split on a bus.

She must beat it.

She is the Wicked Woman that gets the blame. Billie is smart and helpful, yet the man traps are all around her.

As a bar server she is wise with her words as every man tried to get her. She even helps her victim drink all the alcohol she wants even though her husband says no.

This bar did not have mixed drinks, only shots and beer. I like Billie’s character and understand her.

As a woman I cannot tell you how many times I had to take the short end of the stick and leave on a train or bus for something I did not do.

Even if she is guilty so is Matt and his drunk ass wife. Even Matt’s alcoholic wife sides with her husband over her friendship with Billie.

I think the two dames in this narrative should have been wiser and just told Matt to go screw.

They could have sold the joint and headed for Mexico.

To lie in the sun a little bit, drink and have fun.

As Billie said,

“They like women with Blonde hair and light skin in Mexico.”



Anthony Quinn as Alexis Zorba is our male Zorba the Greek. The film is a cultural phenomenon. It is what it is in an absurd way with a very excellent soundtrack.

The hard-edge Greek patriarchy is saturated with tradition. A village that is self-sufficient with a thread of history and honor.

Every man in this film is an asshole except the town fool.

Zorba is a creative natural genius that has a compassion that is appropriate at times. He teaches Sirtaki to Basil, Alan Bates.

A wonderful Greek dance which shows how Zorba relieves his pain of living life while confronting death. Charming in a way.

Lola, Madame Hortense, and the Widow are parts of this film if only indirectly put among the friendship between Basil and Zorba.

It is correct when Zorba tells Basil that the whole town of men are jealous, and all want the widow. A lovely young thing.

Like all the men wanting Billie in the Film Wicked Woman. In this case the lovely young woman is trapped, stoned, and then has her throat cut.

Premeditated murder by a whole community of men and their old crone women. They are jealous of her youth and beauty.

Madame Hortense dies in this film thinking she is married to Zorba to cover up for his earthy affair with a younger woman named Lola.

Regardless of this unbelievable cruelty the men dance away their pain.



These two films are part of the winner male psychology, a complex construct that often shapes perceptions of masculinity and the roles men play in society. As a young girl growing up, I had this crap dumped down my sensitive unconscious psyche. This kind of male world reflects not only the ideals and aspirations embedded in these narratives but also the expectations placed upon men to conform to certain archetypes.

The portrayal of masculinity in these films can be both fascinating and troubling, as it presents an array of behaviors and philosophies that influence real-life interactions and relationships.

I am glad I am wise to it now. Understanding these dynamics allows me to critically engage with the content rather than accept it at face value. I can enjoy these films for their place in history, recognizing their artistic merits while also acknowledging the underlying messages that may perpetuate outdated notions of gender.

This awareness brings a richer perspective to the viewing experience, enabling a deeper exploration of the themes presented.

Yet, I want to affirm to these men that they are playing against the feminine rules. The rules of engagement in this world are not solely dictated by traditional masculine values but involve a more nuanced interplay between genders.

It’s essential for men to recognize that the feminine experience offers insights that can enrich their understanding of connection and empathy. Acknowledgment of this duality can lead to healthier relationships and a more equitable society, one where both masculine and feminine attributes are celebrated rather than suppressed.

Or ignored all together.



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We must explore!

Punk Rock Colleague & Historian and Professional Consultant

Hudley Flipside


These times are asking us to go within. Over the generations we have taken this journey within. By choice, by accident and spiritually. Through drugs, side effects from prescribed medication or by magic.

A song can amplify this reality. A writer can share the experience. Songs filled with lyrics are poetry put to music. The images come forth and touch us. These three songs came to mind today when I was out in the garden pulling tall grass from the rich soil. It all came together. The dark earth holds things. Pulling on the grass and releasing the soil is a forward effort of movement. The dark moist earth has a relationship with our psyches.

I believe that unless we willfully take this inward journey as an individual it will be forced upon us. On a personal level or a generational level is how it goes. Anytime we suppress our shadow, blame others, or spread hate it is bound to a generation. Are we not observing this right now? Songs can help us. I need them like I need flowers in my garden or kitty cats to hug.

Here are three songs that explain this journey variable. From the 1960s Catch the Wind by Donovan is a peaceful song. From 1985 Dead Man’s Party by Oingo Boingo is an amazing song that shares some interesting historical mysteries. Lastly from 1983 The Forbidden Zone by Charged GBH, one dose and you take their hand into a strange journey of a musician’s psyche.


“When sundown pales the sky

I want to hide a while

Behind your smile

And everywhere I would look, your eyes I’d find.”


“I was struck by lighting, walkin’ down the street

I was hit by something last night in my sleep

It’s a dead man’s party who could ask for more

Everybody’s comin’, leave your body at the door

Leave your body and soul at the door.”

“For English occultist Aleister Crowley, who was a painter himself, the artist ranked above the magician on the totem pole of illumination, and he considered poetry and art as precious tools for transforming one’s innermost psychic visions.”


“This went on for hours. More and more of the same. It was incredibly intense. God and Jimi and Anne Carpenter and the devil and the fucking taxi driver, fighting over my soul right up to the point I passed out in exhaustion.”

“Take my hand and we’ll explore,

The forbidden zone.

When you’re in your own tree,

But don’t know if anybody’s home.”

Jimi Hendrix was playing guitar while Anne was a nun of salvation, this may show us that his journey was amplified by many elements as a fight for his soul. When the shadow opens to us it is always a powerful trip. Ross is stronger for his experience. A bite like this prepares us for outward tragedies as we are facing today.