“The Electromagnetic Hypothesis of Olfaction”

Punk Rock Colleague & Historian and Professional Consultant

Hudley Flipside

“What a wicked web we weave /When governments deceive/And I wanna believe……/I gotta believe/Conspiracy theory abound/But the truth is under ground,/I wanna believe I wanna believe/I gotta believe”

~ GBH

I have a suspicion, and I believe that Colin Abrahall wrote the lyrics to the song “I Want to Believe!” I woke up with it on my mind. Also, those “X-Files” feelings got my pineal gland stimulated again. Something is in the air. I can always feel it when Chris Carter is creating by way of the vast unconscious collective of writers. Believe me, I just know. Before big hair Giorgio A. Tsoukalos there were the great big hairdos of GBH!! See how it all comes together here. I am pulling the threads tighter too.

the_x_files_i_want_to_believe_2008_blu-ray_pic01

“Scully: Mulder, since we’ve been here you’ve acted as if you’ve expected to find every piece of evidence that we’ve come across. What aren’t you telling me? Why are we here?
Mulder: A true piece of history, Scully. The very first X-File. Initiated by J. Edgar Hoover himself in 1946. ‘ X-Files“

When the X-Files film I Want To Believe came out in 2008 I was thrilled. You have to know that I was a hardcore fan of the 1990s X-Files series throughout the 90s; besides nursing the babe I looked forward to Unsolved Mysteries and then the X-Files on Friday nights.

“We are made of stardust, our whole body consists of material that has been here before the beginning of time.”

~‘Giorgio A. Tsoukalos

Now before the 2008 release of the I want to Believe film we listened to the Ha Ha CD in our car. GBH’s song I Want To Believe, was to me, the perfect new addition to the this film. I put so much anticipation into the song and the film I thought for sure that Mr. Carter would use the song in his film. I was sad when the two songs only came together in my mystical place of belief… but I was projecting it hard onto the movie screen … believe me!!

What does all of this mean… it means something and in time I may understand…. but for now…

“The Electromagnetic Hypothesis of Olfaction” at the Society for Scientific Exploration conclude that insects use a portion of the EM spectrum to communicate.”

‘Pg 207 Lost Star of Myth and Time by Walter Cruttenden

Jean’s Sour Cream Beans

here was a woman in my mother’s life. A girlfriend to her father. She was mentioned now and then, if only indirectly. This woman had a big influence in my life as well. My maternal grandmother died when my mother was young. Later came Jean who was my grandfather’s longtime girlfriend. They never married. I can see that Jean had a good deal of womanly feminine influences on my mother. I know Jean loved yellow roses. One day I went to visit mom and I brought her some yellow roses. Mom said,

“Jean loved Yellow roses…I was just thinking of her today honey!”

It is true, mom and I always had an intuitive relationship. Maybe I was not as feminine or a shape dresser like she was and maybe I preferred not to iron my clothes like my mother did…yet, we always had an intuitively close relationship. Her sense of sight and smell was fantastic, as is mine. Her creative genius is her gift to me, her family was the focus of her life. She was fair but somewhat biased towards the men in her life. Mom loved to cook, and she ate with two hands… but only sometimes.

Jean’s Sour Cream Beans is a family recipe passed down to my mom via Jean. It was always served on Easter. Those wild days when relatives visited just to get a taste, porker, sports, and ham aside.

I often break some family traditions. I am sharing this today because it is so good. We had it yesterday and I am eating the leftovers from yesterday’s Easter dinner right now as I type.

Easter is about sharing the best that one has to share… and this is one of mine.

Jean’s Beans

1/2 butter melted

Mix this together with…

1 pint sour cream

5 heaping tablespoons pure maple syrup

3 heaping teaspoons Colman’s English dry mustard.

1 LB.. dry baby Lima beans. Salt the water beans soak in and soak over night. Then par boil 20 to 30 minutes. Drain beans and mix together with sour cream mixture.

Bake uncovered two hours or until done in a 200 degree oven, stir occasionally during the cooking.

Tattoo therapy

While at Sam Ash music store (RIP), to pick up some sheet music with youngest Son, a worker there said something to me,

“Does that hurt?’

I looked down at my arm and held it as if to see if it did. I then remembered the tattoos there.

“No!”

“When you got them didn’t, they hurt you. On the bone I mean?”

I said no again…

“The first two needles felt like a halo came over me. It got hot. I felt anxiety for a few seconds. It did not hurt me.”

Then a weird look came over his face. He was about my age. A thin musician type.

“They say that tattoos are addicting. That the more you get the more you want to get them?”

I am not the addictive type. (Only with the band the Saints. Oh know, I typed their name. Now it looks like I will end this post with another Saint’s song.)

Then he asked me,

“You got more?”

“Yes a few here and there!”

“Ya see when my Mom and Dad died it helped me kill the emotional pain. It was a religious experience for me…it was therapy.”

“OK. nice talking with ya.”

The Sam Ash worker walked away. I proceeded to the sheet music section of the store.

A wish under Orion’s belt and the Pleiades…

You don’t have to read this, it is a little on the girly corny side… but I want to put some good vibes out there..

The corporate woman has been defined as the ‘liberated woman’ and I see that as the exact opposite. I think she now is more enslaved, maybe even more than the housewife was; because she’s so out of her power, and imitating male power is not female power.

~ Kenny Loggins

Watercolor by Hudley

I get this unconscious pressure from society to be something. Guilt demons tell me I need to get out and have a real job. I don’t have friends I use to because most of them are faces on Facebook. I experienced burning out at twenty-nine.

Then again after getting my BA and then again, I fell flat on my face while trying to get my MA. All the while engaged as a domestic goddess; some call them housewife or domestic engineer! I find it the best place for me. Time and place in relationship to all the possibilities and here I am.

I am happy. I don’t think my creativity or smarts need to be exploited in work for money. This is the key to my success. I ordained it this way. You can too.

I cook, clean, do the taxes…never do oldest son’s physics problems… only if he asks me quantum physics questions: the possibilities of synchronicity and photons in the universe and how this relates to our DNA.

Ya I put all my love in a paper cup with one cocky boy years ago. He is a good one too. A real man now. It has not always been smooth sailing either.

We both have had our eyes wander… and we have sometimes tried too hard to make each other happy. Too many beers too! Confrontations of course.

I still have goals of having a small publishing company or going out into the world to read my poetry in front of real people. Maybe even showing my art in a small art gallery can still happen again? If the time and place is right and the wind is moving in the right direction…. That is the way I fly.

I hope that my children can find the love I have!! I wish this for everyone. Except all the chess books…my man’s books… I don’t wish those books on anyone, well…maybe my siblings in the South of France!!

Yellow

Ancient Greek pottery c.330 BCE in British Museum – Delphic Tripod and the Pythia.

The worst of times

bearing grief and betrayal

looking down towards the earth…

walking slowly in duty…

Comes up a spring

bubbling and fresh

female voices from the past

speak of hope and inspiration…

Images & symbols in my mind and heart… though stagnant

break open with the right tone

the right words…

the yellow yolk

deeply drips over my life!

https://hudleyflipside.com/my-chap-books-of-poetry/

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/moment-in-time/

Running From A Mad Doctor

“The image of rain as redemptive symbolizing the tears of transformation, comes up in many women’s dreams and it is a frequent image in the poet’s vision. “
~ Linda S. Leonard

Waking up as from a bad dream. I was holding a gun with the barrel down towards the earth. I thought over the dream…

“Call 911,” I yelled.
The women’s face and the graduation ceremonies seemed to ignore my screams. I only had a t-shirt on. Running from a mad doctor who was diagnosing what illness we had and how we would die. We all were asked to line up against the wall. Then we were asked to stretch out on the shelves. The friendly man with the leather jacket was there with his hand around my shoulders. He remembered my face from the day before.
“Your face looks familiar!”
Where is my husband? After I found him again we are back in line, and at this point back to where I grabbed the gun. The mad doctor already shot it. Now he had the gun and a big knife on the table as he asked his questions. The mad doctor turned his back to us. I took the opportunity to grab the gun and I ran out of a building into a crowded dark park. I am coming home from a bad dream!!

Breathing very hard I awoke from the dream with a sound of a lamenting cat. I closed the door. I did not want him in. I do not want to hear him. Around the house I heard his lamenting: lamenting, lamenting and lamenting. He is a rooster-cat as the sun is rising. Feeling hot and cold and running to get the cat food, I opened the can and chopped the cat food up; also opening the door to let one in and one cat out. I ran back to a hot cold bed. A bounding idea pushed its way into my sleepy fast beating heart as I said to myself,

“maybe I should have not run away. I could have shot the mad doctor in the foot instead?”

Comforting my mind…my mind…in my mind I thought;

“I will shoot the doctor in the foot. I am thinking… I am shooting him as he turns to look at me….now!! Let all the people suppress him now and stop our torturer!!”

Up from bed with coffee. I sit to read the above quote about rain… as it is also raining now.

Tomorow is the last day of Ophiuchus

Nov./29 to December/17

He takes the venom of the snake to heal the evil darkness of the world. I known we need him around!!

Also known as Asclepias raised by Chiron. He is known as the Serpent Bearer, and the 13th constellation of the zodiac. Beliefs aside, astrologer, astronomer, mystic or atheist; he is a profound healer. Just to look at this symbol is powerful enough. I have the image above on my bedroom wall. I often forget that it is even there.

I pass by this time-frame of the year without a thought of him. Today I did and so he deserves this recognition. A whisper from the world of symbols and possibilities.

Stencil By Hudley

Comrades who whisper from the dead. Tall Drinks!!

Holly ready to send her laser… by Shyane

Part one:

Reading a few introductory books before entering The Red Book by CG Jung is a wise thing for me to do. Current historians and psychologists with a depth psychology twist are a nice tall drink. Understanding that Jung had a hard time deciding, in his life, whether to publish the book or not makes me feel as if I am violating his soul in reading it at all….after his death too. Whispering in my ear my entire quasi adult life makes me feel differently about this.

Reading these pre books I am affirmed in my conclusion. That he wrote the book for others as well as for himself.

Jung even encouraged his patients and friends to make a Red Book of their own. Comrades who whisper from the dead. Alchemy personified…but why me, why know and why share? This is a personal insight form a lay person that just happens to have a soul like everyone else… even those with PHDs! As an artist, with insight, I can try to write!

This complements this journey before I enter his world…personal yes but collectively through our mutual histories; past, present and future dreams. I wonder if the computer and blogging were around, in Jung’s time, if he too would use it freely to creatively express himself. I think he would have loved to. How brave we have become in sharing who we are!!
Just as I know there is evil in the world I know there is also goodness.

I have witnesses both, experienced both and been both-and I will continue- yet one thing I have not altered is my innocence. Maybe this is the reason for suffering and sorrow. I think I need to blend a little of the two, evil and goodness, within my cauldron. Stirring it and truly becoming a real adult in the real world. Speaking symbols and watering my essence of insight. You can take it or leave it.

“The Sun its shadow complete the work.”
~ Michael Maier Atlanta Fugiens-279 Book Jungian Psychoanalysis.

When posting on Facebook or WordPress I find that the best responses received by others are the authentic ones I post. All the news, politics and other things just don’t get the same input. Ok maybe the punk rock stuff gives me an edged kick but I was very innocent and rebelliously aesthetic back in the 1980s!!

It is uncomfortable for me to share who I am now, yet when I post my mug, something I created, or some personal insight; I usually get a satisfactory response. Even if it is quick and intuitively posted?? I think we are all looking for authenticity in our lives. Communication!!

As Jim Morrison from the Doors said, “Something Sacred.”

When we see it in another we feel it, we know it. This is the best of human communications. Though it may be rough, vague and juicy… it is what we need. We may even crave it. Collectively and/or as an individual. The mind, heart and soul is part of this equation. It is art, magic and touches those hidden places in us.

It can fall into the formation of math and logic. As effervescent sparks of knowledge. It moves through pain and pleasure as emotional release. It jumps and dances with “look at me” and “I see you.” It is normal, natural but hidden sometimes within the shadow of our sun. We have to go looking for it. It is when we share our authentic self or our aesthetic self… we all respond to it.

Pre books: Lament of The Dead Psychology after Jung’s Red Book ~ James Hillman & Sonu Shamdasani,/ The Red Book Liber Novus A readers Edition CG Jung Edited with an Introduction by Sonu Shamdasani./ The Seven Sermons to the Dead.

“unreal reality”

Astrological Reading for October…via a Few quotes of “Abraxas”

Pluto is beyond any ego and does remarkable things and ‘not so good’ things…

Pluto is beyond any ego that does reamrkable 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/

“Plan B” Art Exhibit

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.

Coyote Green Stone Story

This story needs to be told about what my friend Coyote is doing this year. His story is hounding me to be told and so Coyote blows his ideas in the mist falling as humid drops on my eyelids.

“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!!

Oldest Son and book making.

Before saturation of words on the internet, before the underground nostalgia, resonance grew on making books the old-fashioned way… there was a silent breathing in.

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.

The simple joys of life are ones that are creative, progressive and quaint.

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.

Ya, we are not alone.

Driving south on Topanga Canyon Blvd. a parked car pulls quickly out in front of me. He is not a normal man driving a car, as I see and dreadfully feel: but who is driving this black rather small sedan?

July 5th 2014 real event.

Shopping on Saturday at 1 PM is not a thing I usually do. I have to do my chores. Instead of walking down to the stream to gather berries and water to put in a jar and basket and them put on my head, I go shopping at a supermarket. Driving away down the asphalt jungle I hear the large watermelon moving ‘round in the back of the car.

“Damn I did not secure it properly!”

I held a vision in my mind’s eye of cutting the watermelon open in half. Propping it round as a big bowl of cold watermelon soup.

“Ah, that sounds refreshing!!”

Putting all the groceries away, I then walked over to open the washing machine and put the cat’s beach towels into the drier. I like to make sure their beach towels are clean, fluffy and ready for them. They like to sleep outside on their beach towels in the cool of the morning and evening.

This summer he, the man I live with, bought me more books to read. The esoteric door of magical and syncretistic events awaken in me again. Those places that sleep slow and drowsy in my deepest Psyche. Yes, I saw him again too. That man in the rather small black sedan who pulled right in front of me.

I drove around him just to see who it might be. I wish I didn’t because as I looked at him, he looked back at me as we raced south on Topanga Canyon Blvd. He, dressed in black, gave me a sideways glance. A deep confrontational look, with his black hat, beard, and dark Noir focus, at me!!!

The esoteric doors are open, and the game is on. When one plays with the archaic mysteries the archetypal characters come to play. I have not seen him, Mephistopheles, in a long time. He is darkness incarnate! The only cure for this is the dew of a red rose.

For now I type in my cave filled with a stream of cool air and also read, do my housewife chores while trying to forget the large consuming cartoonish eyes reflecting my face back at me.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/an-odd-trio/

rebellious hit

we-are-the-best-04-06-2014-6-g — Bobo before she spits at herself in the mirror !

At Starbucks the young woman behind the counter said,

“I like your shirt!”

“You like G.B.H.?”

She gave me an intense look of inwardness.

“Yes…like Minor Threat and…China White!”

“Yup!”

“No one listens to Punk anymore.”

“Only the old punk folk!”

I was referring to myself. She gave me a sheepish smile while giving me a receipt for two Grande Café Lattes.

It was the first time we were in this Starbucks. Walking the streets here in the evening is pleasant. Noticing the many closed storefront businesses along Colorado Blvd. in Pasadena made us wonder. Our conclusion was that the businesses that offered a service survived. This is where the people mingled. As colorful clusters around most coffee shops here. Foundations of parking lots, businesses and apartments went up above this! This gave me a dreamy concern. I imagined living this way.

“John, After the kids grow up and are on their way, maybe we can get an apartment and live this way?”

“It might not be so bad.”

“I wonder if they allow cats?”

It was because of a longtime friend that we were out here, a few miles from out hometown. The Laemmle Theater a couple blocks from our home closed down about three years earlier. Once down the street from us now Pasadena was the nearest one.

My punk rock heart asked me,

“Do you really want to see another film about punk rock, I mean didn’t you experience the real deal already!?”

“I don’t know? A friend told me that the film has “girl energy,” it seems like I could use some of that!”

Researching the film I was pulled to it more and more. I decided to get a ticket online and drive out to see it alone. Husband jumped aboard and said,

“We can visit the Yard House or Lucky Baldwins after the show!”

This we did later.

We Are The Best does have “girl energy,” it has something more that touched me deeply too. Something, that I must say, defines the punk rock experience for me! It always has and it always will.

Since its creation and migration around the world. punk rock , has been raped-skated-and-donated!! What this film brings forth in a true way is the experience of punk rock. The film puts you in the world of three 7^th graders. Three thirteen year old girls that don’t fit in! So they reach out to music, each other and to other punks.

Having guys call you ugly and being ignored by popular culture are two real initiations into the punk rock girl experience.

It is all about rebellion, ideologies, music and fun! The film is sweet, innocent and honest! Defining that having a band and friendship is more important then the guys you’re sleeping with.

I enjoy the freedom the girls have to get around on subways. The film is based in Stockholm Sweden during the 1980s.

After the film and a nice long walk I found myself perching at the Yard House with a dark beer before my gaze. The monitors were all about Hockey. I am naturally repelled by organized sports as well as the commercials. The ones before the film were awful too…Porsche to Lexus commercials. Madmen designed to get that needed uplift. Why did we pay money to watch commercials as well?

Anyway, I thought upon Bobo, Klara and Hedvig and how the punk culture was portrayed in the film compared to my real experiences. As I sipped my beer I made my usual under the breath insult about the Kings game. With wide eyes and mouth grinning,,

“Hate the Sport!!”

Adding another rebellious beat to this old folk punk heart of mine.

@@@

http://www.laemmle.com/theaters/6

http://www.yardhouse.com/CA/pasadena-restaurant/

Perfect fat blanket of roundness !!

Blogging my block. May 20 2014.

Earth Mother Of Laussel, 25,000 B.C.E.

Blogging my Block…

I can do this by the neighbors I watch go by my little computer room. They usually walk fast, jog or gaze into their hand-held devices. The gutters and sidewalks are plentifully watered even though there is a draught here in sunny southern California. My block expands outward as one long drive. The archetypal informed synchronicity motif that reflects back to me today is of mother and babe, or round bellies on woman. My neighborhood block extends via a car traveling over a 45-minute drive and back.

I looked to my right and viewed a mother and her child waiting at a bus stop. They were across three lanes of traffic but we were gazing at each other. The mother, child and I. This archetypal embrace moved me. The child rested and covered her mother’s belly.

I was transported to a small Spanish community. The little girl was smiling at me and I smiled back.

I too remember taking the bus, for years, with oldest son as a child. I miss the rhythm of the bus and the soft talk of travelers. It was good to not take on the stress of competitive driving on California roads and the merging blocks. Now I try to resist the need to compete on the road. Instead I focus my will on the communing of driving. A type of happy gas, metal, synthetic plastic party of

we are all in this together!!

Next a mile or two later I witness another mother and child in a car behind me. This mother was looking in her rear view mirror. She raised her hands and clapped while singing to her baby in the back car seat. A car engine covered this mother’s belly. Then traffic picked up and everything went to a dash of the fast.

Ten more miles down Nordhoff blvd and I embraced the mother daughter motif again. Another mother and child waiting at a bus stop. This mother was older and the daughter was a teenager. Their figures were round as a Mother of Willendorf. A 30,000 B.C.E. image thrilled my gaze. In contrast to the women who jog, run and walk fast: these two woman taking the bus projected an ancient symbol of the oldest image we have of humanity and of women. This is good because a flat belly was not the fashion statement back then.

I had a conversation the other day with oldest son about my belly and losing weight. I told him that it is what I feel in my belly that I value. As the “Luminous Pear,” “Sea of vitality,” and the “Pearl of Great Price.” My round belly gives me insight, foresight and warnings.

As my belly grows so do the gifts. Why would I want to get rid of all of my belly gifts? Mine is at a perfect fat blanket of roundness now!!

**Refferences

The archetypal informed synchronicity Pg 68 from Richard Tarnas’s book; Cosmos and Psyche.

“Luminous Pear,” “Sea of vitality,” and the “Pearl of Great Price.” Pg. 14 from Lisa Sarasohn: The Belly book.

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A high standard

Music is about good character, loyalty, good friendship and integrity. Rock & Roll is more than goo goo eyes and stupid sluts with wet panties. Rock & Roll is a revolution of words and style. Yes, this is a high standard…so be it!!

While growing up my home had a lot of musical diversity around the house. The German Telefunken radio was usually playing what my mom or dad liked; Jazz or local radio channels. There was not a large section of radio channels back from the 1950s through to the 1970s. This made is easy to hear your favorite songs. Just like TV, everyone was listening to the same channels and that had a community sense of continuity to it.

I have written this before…my first 45 record was Love Me tender by Elvis. I played the 45 on my little portable hand-held record player. Oh boy, It was rather large compared to hand-held devices of today and a lot cooler too. One of the older siblings had a 8 track cassette player in his car. I remember hearing the Beatles’ Rubber Soul in his Hot Rod Ford Falcon. By eight years old ! I knew all the songs off the album by heart. Then there were vinyl LP’s; Donovan, The Seeds and I think Cream might have been around in home somewhere?

Teen Idols and the world of music !?

Teen idols were someone to mock and make faces at. I still feel even stronger about this today!! For me it was the music that moved me. The lyrics and the tunes that got me going. Even Elvis Presley and the Beatles only got the ‘crush-thing-going’ pale in comparison. It is their character that got me. How they dressed and how they spoke. I always focused on who they were as a person then the usual sex object to be swooned over. Even with all my experiences with music and rock stars or anti-rockstarism over the years, I have kept this solid in my perspective as,

Love the music, love the character, try to be a good friend, dig the whole thing together!! Dance to it too…or roll around on the ground and throw up!!

Later on when deep in the bowels of the musical beast I made a promise to myself. If those overwhelming feelings of ‘Idol-love’ consumed me I would blow. I made a vow never to go out on a date or fall in love with a band member; even if only indirectly and from afar!! The idea of “Idol,” “Icon,” or “rock star,” repels me. It was not easy…but it can be done !!

Now imagine driving (before-drivers license) in you older brother’s Ford Falcon, when he is not around, and pushing on the gas pedal down to this song…. my first sense of musical power. Here comes Big Bruiser…the hill that helps you fly over the San Fernando Valley. Ha HA Ha !!

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/teen-age-idol/

Cosmos and Psyche by Richard Tarnas

Cosmos and Psyche by Richard Tarnas is an amazing book about human consciousness. He takes us on a journey of the humanities and the mind, and patterns of being. Richard Tarnas is a cultural historian and professor of philosophy and depth psychology.

The title of his book defines the contents of the chapters. Our relationship with the cosmos is a fascinating subject to me.

As a Romantic, I recommend this as a must-read book, and a book to have available on your favorite bookshelf. It is a delightfully wordy, intense, and insightful book that incorporates history, culture, and spirituality. I have, so far, grasped the thesis of Richards’s book as:

We must awaken to and overcome the great hidden anthropocentric projection that has virtually defined the modern mind: the pervasive projection of soullessness onto the cosmos by the modern self’s own will to power.

(page 41 paragraph two)

Understanding Richard’s message is important. In today’s world of discord and moments of hopelessness, we can connect with our inner world, outer world, and the cosmos in a new and creative manner.

In his book we find some old friends, the foresight of Blake, Jung and Goethe resonate in his book as affirmations of a new and hopeful world.

Synchronicity is like breathing…as above so below. The current way I learn.

Spring is here !

I wrote about this before.

The angle of the sun is changing. Spring is here. This morning the sun is shining through a crystal hanging outside. A ray of light flew through our French windows. Today I took a self-photo and captured this rainbow from outside on to me inside my home. I caught it shining on my forehead or brow.

I am expressing a part of me from the inside out also.

How I see the world.

I love capturing the essence of flowers by painting watercolors, or I like to capture nature by writing poems. It is the beauty I see all around me that takes me to my knees, so to speak. Everything we do starts on the inside and works its way out.

A mockery of the Academy Awards

Alfred Hitchcock Robert Mitchum

Two quotes by a famous director and an actor go something like this,

“Actors are like cattle … the hierarchy of prison life is similar to the movie business.”

Should the academy have its people, actors, directors, etc., dress up in character when they attend an award night? Since it is so close to Mardi Gras, they might have them dress up for the big ball that it is?

A month of preparation is good money for hair salons and plastic surgeons. Bodies are painted with the most intimate fashions on the planet; that the actors give back the next day. Why not go casual and comfortable instead, with a cold beer in their hand?

It is superficial, pretentious, and stupid that they do not! Who are these beautiful people who act for us? We know who they fuck, who they divorce and when they get boob jobs. Tabloids make fun of them too. I do not have a clue who they are, not a clue and I am not looking for one either. They are simply cattle doing their business.

Films, the theater, writing scripts all has a magic for sure…story telling is as old as the Bushmen of the Kalahari Desert. Now that would be a hell of a fashion statement for next year’s Academy Awards.

I love the the Bushmen of the Kalahari Desert because they listen to the praying mantis and have wonderful stories to share with us!! They are beautiful people, real human beings!!

Quotes taken from All About Eve script

EVE

Then why? Why, if you’re the best

and most successful young director

in the Theater-

BILL

The Theatuh, the Theatuh-

(he sits up)

– what book of rules says the

Theater exists only within some

ugly buildings crowded into one

square mile of New York City? Or

London, Paris or Vienna?

(he gets up)

Listen, junior. And learn. Want to

know what the Theater is? A flea

circus. Also opera. Also rodeos,

carnivals, ballets, Indian tribal

dances, Punch and Judy, a one-man

band – all Theater. Wherever

there’s magic and make-believe and

an audience – there’s Theater.

Donald Duck, Ibsen, and The Lone

Ranger, Sarah Bernhardt, Poodles

Hanneford, Lunt and Fontanne, Betty

Grable, Rex and Wild, and Eleanora

Duse. You don’t understand them

all, you don’t like them all, why

should you? The Theater’s for

everybody – you included, but not

exclusively – so don’t approve or

disapprove. It may not be your

Theater, but it’s Theater of

somebody, somewhere.

EVE

I just asked a simple question.

BILL

(grins)

And I shot my mouth off. Nothing

personal, junior, no offense…

(he sits back down)

… it’s just that there’s so much

bushwah in this Ivory Green Room

they call the Theatuh – sometimes

it gets up around my chin…

http://www.dailyscript.com/scripts/all_about_eve.html

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/03/03/writing-challenge-threes/

Mantis Jazz cafe

Going to make a Liverwurst sandwich with Roma tomatoes on French bread with mayonnaise and mustard; a couple drips of grape seed oil and vinegar. Salt and pepper and baby I will chase that steamy Pluto away.

I saw her come out after the boys, from that steamy deep place, all I could do was shake my head…knowing that she was a friend. I saw the steam come up and her t-shirt was damp. How many guys from the band came out of there? Who knows…?

Dreams…those dreams can be washed away with a film, food and a cup of Coffee . My libido is somewhere down there. Up here I don’t want to exercise or talk romance… maybe a few hours in the garden will chase steamy Pluto away.

The saxophone and the xylophone move baby move me into the cool zone…