Walking into a dark tomb of betrayals and the unforgiven, she sweeps away dust from broken promises and looks through an ancient window at a vast wasteland.
A pink light suddenly appears, full of warmth and rhythm, revealing a stage, a balance scale, and a strange God emerging from peach blossoms. Family, friends, and enemies pass by as their hearts are weighed.
Falling back she is alone again and as the tomb transforms into another place something is downloaded into her body… in a knowing way,
“See this three-dimensional brain from every perspective. Thinking, perceiving and judging; within the mind is vast knowledge.
The tomb that houses this great brain is humbled, but greater still is the thing that pushed the blood and gives one aspirations of life and love. Vastly superior when known and awoken.
Hail to the heart!”
Spell 30
For not letting N’s Heart create opposition against him in the realm of the dead.
O my heart which I had from my mother,
O my heart which I had upon earth,
do not rise up against me as a witness in the presence of the Lord of Things;
do not speak against me concerning what I have done,
do not bring up anything against me in the presence of the Great God,
Lord of the West.
.
Hail to you, my heart!
Hail to you, my heart!
Hail to you my entails!
Hail to you,
you gods who are at the head of those who wear the sidekick,
who lean on their staffs!
May you say what is good to Re,
may you make me to flourish,
may powers be bestowed when I go forth,
having been interred amount the great ones
who long endure upon earth. Not dying in the west but becoming a spirit in it.
To Eddie Egan (RIP) on his birthday so near to Valentines day ! All the best to you and your family!! Unless we get dementia… may we always remember our wild dayz!!
Mike Ness’s voice vibrates in that special part of my heart where youth affirms its hold on my yesterday. From punk on the street to a band of fame and glory.
Stinky barf alleys, clubs, radio to free download to my website.
Not just me but a handful, a scene, a generation. This song came to me at a time when I was reunited with the punk scene. Those times when time bends to grab you in its circular reflection of friends long gone by.
Today this song sings to my heart loudly. The contrary life I am living. I don’t believe in devils, yet I do know that psychopaths walk the earth.
I don’t believe in angels …yet I have met them.
It all comes down to the choices we make.
“Easy peasy lemon squeezy!” My red Militaria hat and I bow to this song…
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..
Watercolor by Hudley
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
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!!
Hudley Flipside | Punk Rock Colleague • Historian • Archivist
Recently, a few of our Los Angeles Clubs have closed or are in the process of transforming. All generations or music scenes go through these changes. Owners and promoters come and go. Yet what is happening now seems as revolutionary as when the underground scene claimed these clubs as their own. I speak from the late 70s to now because it is nothing new. I just hope that the youngsters will continue finding and creating a scene that comes from their rebellion. Technologies have changed everything!
We no longer go to shows to make friends and find support like we once did. We don’t need fanzines anymore or a band’s creative flyers. These are for the old-time collectors. Gamers and hand-held devices are changing the world.
It is something we all have to work out, because it can’t be what it used to be. Festivals are a nightmare from my perspective. No one can ever bring this particular youthful music scene back… no matter how anyone tries to ‘Viagra’ it. I find joy in reflecting back on this time.
I am presenting an extremely wonderful article by Flipside Fanzine’s Roving Reporter Helen Jewel. It is a good read. Ya might have to squint your eyes or zoom in a great deal to read it; I invite you to be amazed. Enjoy the patina of the original Flipside Fanzine. It has aged a lot. Again, Thank you Helen. I appreciate you much more now than I ever did then!!
From Issue Number 37 the mid-1980s. Dead Clubs by Helen Jewel
(With a little help from her friends!)
Click on image to share in the original punk rock narrative.
Recently in an interview. I was asked many questions about days long gone by. I found that one question, yes one, I responded to in a round about way. I found myself floating above my brain.
Releasing words which were coming out of my mouth. I looked at the interviewer and he had an in-depth look on his face. Fucking stupid words were trying to describe feelings. wonderful, explosive feelings from my youth. The enthusiasm was bouncing around the walls shaking off the dusty dust from my older mind and body.
I was in the corner of words pouring out as vast sentences forming from images and feelings. All which came to a separate conclusion. Of a time that was not linear but moved around as a record on a turn table or as fast live songs that grabbed me and knocked me to the ground.
“Is he understanding my words…. geez…ask another question please??!!”
Thank God he did…I really hate talking. My last interview is my solution. !!
A winning streak is not always based on if I post every day on WordPress. Some of the most thrilling and in depth oriented posts of mine are overlooked for the quick pro quo posts. To me it is a tilling and planting the soul. The bell curve response to my posts are strange and bewildering and sometimes very rewarding. I have come to the conclusion that it is the quality of the post that is more important to me. Not so with my readers. So I can post once or twice a day and get a few to no resonances. It is a winning streak when readers go looking for posts I’ve written months or years ago. This tells me someone is interested. I am not just screaming in the darkness. Yet over all it is about how my writing collectively touches in on the intuitive soul of others… that all this writing somehow matters and that like a good rain something interesting is growing in the process. Writing, setting goals and taking an impersonal stance! These are the qualities of what I am learning here!
In Middle School, which we called Jr. High School in the 1970s, there was a teacher. The lights came on when I was in Jr. High School. Peer pressure was as two giant wedges clamping in on me.
This teacher woke me up from the dreadful shadow world of bell bottoms and grunge looking guys. The crush I had on Mark Baily was overwhelming and he had the original grunge look down.
Yet in all of this chaos, hormones, the smell of hate-and peer pressure… this mighty teacher woke me up.
“Excellent! I cried. “Elementary.” Said He.
The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes (1893) Watson and Holmes in “The Crooked Man” (Doubleday p. 412)
In an English course as an elective by mistake Teacher had us read Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. I experienced feelings more powerful than crushes on boys and the hate of peer pressure. It all fell by the side.
The wit and intelligence of a detective moved me. My only regret is not taking it on as a profession myself.
Also never thanking her, the teacher that turned on the light; if only for a few months.
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.
Tripod: Ting were prehistoric and ancient Chinese cauldrons standing upon legs.
After 50 I feel you spend the rest of your life grieving! All those you’ve lost, betrayal and fuck-ups? Ya better know how to ride the wave cause it’s not going to go away if you ignore it!!
The key I wish for is for the door that awaits me…what awaits me is my own art loft. In it is a remarkable place of supplies.
Tables of wood and windows that slant where the sun comes in just right. Or the moon at night as I listen on the stereo with giant speakers. Paper, pencils and stencil paper. Small printing press and paper-cutter.
Astrological Reading for October…via a Few quotes of “Abraxas”
Pluto is beyond any ego and does remarkable things and ‘not so good’ things…
“This is a god whom ye knew not, for mankind forgot it. We name it by its name Abraxas. It is more indefinite still than god and devil.”
“…we name god Helios or Sun…”
A cosmology of within and the cosmology without move contradictory to each other and to you. Slowly move with the first full moon of October and then skip happily along with the new moon. The focus is to remember to breathe as the underworld and the heavens meet.
Betrayal from family may not go away, but you can push it away with the stretch of Lilith as she moves with you as pounding waves on the shore of life. Hit the ball into the court. It is up to them to hit it back. They may not.
“…Abraxas standeth above the sun and above the devil. It is improbable probability, unreal reality. Has the Pleroma a being, Abraxas would be its manifestation…”
All the planets focus on change while staying the same. Eros and Psyche are swimming around the earth ascending and descending the whispers of love and creativity this month.
“… it is the brightest light of day and the darkest night of madness…”
The dead whisper secrets and wisdom from the past. Culture, history, and music define who you are. Listen and reflect on this month deeply. As well …go out and have a pint or two only. Transforming the grip of heaviness to joyousness. Don’t forget to spill some of the beer on the earth as homage for the sexuality of Phallus and the spirituality of Her who fertilizes our souls. All which is beyond us all!!
“…Spirituality and sexuality are not your qualities, not things which ye possess and contain. But they possess and contain you…”
All quotes taken from The Seven Sermons to the Dead by Carl Gustav Jung
Having a romp with your man the night before, and driving on a foggy morning the next day while listening to Jazz; takes orgasm to a whole new level!!
Time can be very strategic!! Life more precious as loved ones fade into the dark unknown. Courting the underworld and also that dark place of the analytical mind, I have found insight into something more. This time of the year screams this depth, scratching at my emotions while confronting me with nothing, a non-caring pain. This time of the year as dusk approaches even the smile of my child, the purring of cats seem to fade into a realm existential of the unreal and profound.
I am about to read The Seven Sermons to the Dead by Carl Jung~ attribution to Basilides. I have prepared for my journey for months with complementary books. I recently received The Red Book as a gift and this will add to my reflective study.
The Apostle said, ‘I lived without a law once,’ that is, before I came into this body, I lived in such a form of body as was not under a law, that of a beast namely, or a bird.[15]
My parents never really looked at death though they are now dead. My best and longest time friend… she too is gone from this life. So as I start this reading I hope to reflect as sermons to them as well !! The day I began this journey of The Seven Sermons I sat at the pool side where son was swimming with his swim team. Two trees about twelve feet tall were before me. I sat comfortably.
The noises were overwhelming. Children crying and water splashing as women next to me talked about their problems. I then looked at the two trees. On every branch was a small bird; golden and chirping. Singing together and jumping. Everything else faded away but what I was viewing. I thought to myself, “How can this be?” One bird jumped down dancing towards me. Slowly, systematically and very consciously the bird came close to my foot and then turned around back up the tree. I then looked down for a second, thinking to take a picture. When I looked back the trees were empty. I thought, “How did so many birds fly away without a movement or sound?” I now ask a question, “How can so many die without a movement or sound’?”
I look back on this adventure and it was a time of remarkable change for many of us… as a woman it was for me.
“I am struck by the fact that more than 50 million women will have achieved menopause by 2013.”
~ Susun S. Weed
“Plan B” Haggus Society opening reception as artists mingle. October 11th, 2014.
Late Evening October 11, 2014.
“By giving death to yourself as Mother, you claimed all of yourself. It is time to share that vision, to name yourself publicly, Crone, woman of wholeness…”
~ Susun S. Weed
The car moved fast through the freeway traffic. My foot to the pedal, the car swiftly changed lanes. Rays of light ricocheted off my rear-view mirror like bullets. Alone on the freeway interchange, my mind focused on where I came from, and where I was going to. Alone in the dark night, walking dark streets and meeting new friends. Engaging in risk taking and it is known vulnerabilities often ignored by friends. Mom would have never done this!
Of all the times I have taken risks in the past, supporting, and promoting bands, tonight is one of the most fulfilling for me. These older women engaged in risk taking, promoting their art; these women who worked and helped others… now they stop…now they pivot and move into a new world of their own passions.
I tip-toed around The Haggus Society for a long time. Observing with a turned face, as most praying mantes do. As I listened intuitively to what images came forth, what inspirations spoke to me?
“We believe we have something unlike other art collectives-focusing our support on multifaceted older women who are activists, thinkers, and creative risk takers. Pushing the envelope is what we do for exercise.”
~ The Haggus Society
Yes! After tears and laughter, I realized…I know I must contribute. After breaking free, finally, from the repressive underworld of a shattered chrysalis, I reach my hands out from side to side. Wide, strong, and ready to embrace something new. I am reaching past the often-pretentious membranes of other art collectives.
Joy! I am participating in something meaningful and current. It is alive and growing!! Besides…
“Pushing the envelope is what we do for exercise.”
Sham 69 are playing around. Shows with good and bad reviews. As though my heart does not sense the beating heart of another comrade, from my youthful rebellion, who touches the soil of the land.
Dancing around and around in my room like Rumpelstiltskin around a fire singing these simple words;
“They don’t understand no they don’t understand They don’t wanna understand…”
These are my first dancing memories of punk rock. As I spiraled into the heart of it… I also spiraled out. Seeing with peripheral vision the shadows of days gone by, I am often pulled again into this guilty, responsibility of a musical addition.
As a succubus that pulls at my firmer soul, I pull it off. I hold by conscience, my individual power and resist this. Jumping into the anger of youthful rebellion. I am not her anymore. Reflective and mature and proud… I can take it. Nothing to prove or take with me…but friendship.
No affirmation of great things to hold on to. As the rogue wave of darkness envelops those we love in death. So too the scene that once was is slowly taken away by this same darkness. Happy for the boys in the band that linger on…for now!!
“Everyone keeps telling me I’m gonna be free. We all know we’ll never be free.”
Every ritual comes forth out of the heat of inspiration! It echoes over the years and amplifies through nature and loved ones; some living and some dead! Does ritual get boring? Yes it can! Youngest son told me he had a surprise for me! I waited! He initiated an echo, a song again of memories, goals and skill!
He played the drumming sequence to Charged GBH’s Lycanthropy! He says he is still working on the base drum to the song!
It is a ritual of mine since the first time I first heard the song….about 34 years now!!
And so this little boring ritual of mine of playing the song Lycanthropy every Autumn amplifies with the full moon as a gift! To the she-wolf from her son!
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.
I told the lady in the big SUV that she was parked in a red zone.
“Everyone else is doing it!” “Oh that is brilliant…lady!!”
When I go to get the kid from school, I try my best to avoid trouble. I hide under a tree or look the other way when other parents park their cars in red zones. They also block yellow student walk ways. I of course park a couple blocks away and walk to the school. I admit foresight is something I acquired over years of experience.
These same parents honk when they end up causing traffic, and make it impossible to have a clear path of safety through traffic. I tend to get angry when confronted with rudeness, stupidity and idiocarcy like this.
Today two women were both parked on either side of the street in the red zones. They were talking across to each other. It was clear that they were parked right on the curve where students and cars do not have a clear view of each other. I waited. Then I moved out to drive between the two cars, the one on the right raced out towards me without looking.
I honked and then I yelled at her. She looked at me as if amazed that I was upset with her. She was a patronizing, idiot bitch, unaware to the danger that surrounded her. She mockingly said she was sorry. Wondering how I could be so upset;
“How can you say those things we both have children!”
I think getting upset is a normal reaction. I then called her a jerk and gave her the finger as she drove away in her dark SUV with her young kid.
The lukewarm meritocracy of these 30 something women makes me sick. They seem to lack moral guidelines except when it applies to them! I am so glad I come from an angry generation with scrupulous insight.
Hudley Flipside | Punk Rock Colleague • Historian • Archivist
2014 Post
“…and those of you in the balcony can just rattle your jewelry.”
~John Lennon
Cause no one needs a fanzine anymore…
Originally a 2014 post I was 56 and youngest son was 14. Now I am 64 and he is going to college at 22. The bands are still playing around the massive kaleidoscopeexposition of festivals. I watch them explode and march on from town to town, city to city and country to country.
The punk festivals are grandiose to see happening. Fun for the bands yet this little fanzine gal can’t go back to being a face in the crowd during a time of a terrible pandemic with an ‘ebb and flow’ which is rather unpredictable.
I am glad I got to see them before festivals became a phenomenon of big and bigger shows with long and longer lists of bands. Or even the weird funky boat cruises. It leaves me a bit perplexed yet I can listen to the music anytime and my “amber moments” are still in my brain as fresh and palpable moments of a once punk scene.
Mockingly and nasty, as we stood in line in front of the Fonda Theater marquee, an older man on a bike wheeled by yelling,
“Ha ha maybe forty years ago!”
Saturday Night 2014 Hollywood,California
My son and I were standing in line. In front of us was a twenty-year-old and in back a couple about my age. These punk shows bring out the underground punk community. The good and disgusting levels. I love it so much my head almost burst.
01 – race against time 0:00 02 – knife edge 2:45 03 – lycanthropy 5:00 04 – necrophilia 7:34 05 – sick boy 9:33 06 – state executioner 12:06 07 – dead on arrival 14:39 08 – generals 12:18 09 – freak 19:37 10 – wardogs 22:06 11 – city baby attacked by rats 23:37 12 – City babys revenge 26:13
Smiling Punk woman and son Shyane at 14
Last night I could hardly make it through Lycanthropy while fighting off some guy who wanted to continually throw my son up on stage. Even though son seemed to like it. He said,
“I saw Colin’s face flash by me.“
Up front the stage was hot. All were intimated by the solar flares of sun burning in the Fonda Theater. A halo hot sauna of extreme is how it was there. A full house.
The 5th Wave at the Fonda Theater pic by Hudley
The 5th Wave slashed the theater with some questionable lyrics, mixed with saxophone and trombone ska. Excellent! Their fans shining. I was very impressed by the courtesy of the young punk women this evening.
A smile was easily shared and that communal feelings of a punk rock community ran in my heart. Strangely different from my generation. I was very impressed indeed. A lot of women in groups and alone gave me hugs for having a son with me.
I hope son takes advantage of this when he gets beyond my reach, because now he has a silence about him that I respect.
The ADS were so satisfying I cried. I love them and again always superimposed images from over the years blended with the reality of now. Fast songs have matured nicely into longer ones. Remarkable! As Steve Soto was there still playing his original sound.
GBH were wild as they always are. Yet, they were a little rushed. I hear it is an intense tour. Colin’s voice was hoarse, yet it was hard to tell over the audience singing their songs. Colin made a stab at the fans in the balcony who were not moving.
Who were just sitting there as being lazy and with other critiques? I don’t know why so many young punks came up to me trying to exchange my receipt with theirs so they could sit in the balcony. It all was a bit confusing from my perspective.
Fun and eye-opening show with the usual subtle instilled words for those listening!!
We enjoy our punk rock community…so go screw Mr. Bike man over 50! This 50 something year old loves it still!!
If she laid her egg sack, which she most likely has, I have not seen her. Every year she comes and I paint her image, or take her picture. From the pool mesh fence, I take her and let her crawl over my shoulders. This year only she indirectly shows herself. A floating exoskeleton on top of clear pool water, or images from friends.
Her Praying Mantis tree with the beautiful purple anarchy flowers are as a waterfall and arbor waiting for her return.
She will be golden green, large and graceful now. She facing death. I wear her tattoo on my left wrist. The purple anarchy flower. Last night at a local club again she told me that I was at the right time and place.
I was meant to be here, even though she was not. The leather jacket with silver studs addressed me.
The young man stood in front of me. There splashed upon his back, drawn and painted, is her anarchy flower. Holding up my wrist I knew it to be true. I tapped the young tall man on the shoulder and showed him the image.
He acknowledged it and the music blew through and around us.
The longitude and latitude the continuity of life. It was all meant to be, I was where I was meant to be…. but she was not there.
