the written word – The Seminary of Praying Mantis Publishing

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

Mythos of punk in a story…

John Crawford Revolutionary Fetus Cartoon series image 1980.
Drawn directly on my leather. X-8 originally gave me this jacket.

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 for The Seminary of Praying Mantis Publishing 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 was a time that still haunts me. As in every generation of my life. All are unique times. Vastly changing and different generations. Yet 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 got my complete copyright for this book. I am celebrating three years of mission complete as my book sails into the world. A true rebellious history by a young woman who help document a punk rock scene. It is comforting to know that several of the bands I loved 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 a 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 hadto make a stop in Hollywood to transferbuses. The hollow feeling as we waited for thebus 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 downthe street walked slowly toward the bus stopwhere 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 gotover his obnoxious, talkative, and controlling personality and moved on.”

~ MY PUNKALULLABY, HUDLEY FLIPSIDE

A dame dumps on a long-time friendship.

JOHNNY O’CLOCK

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.

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.

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.

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!

Indigenous Peoples Day

Here are a few posts which share in this day of celebration…

Excerpt From To Ride A Painted Pony Wild

All life was fresh, new and exciting. Elton and Bernie were our insightful friends. Experiencing nature and reading stories about the lifecycles of American Indians is who we were. Our horses were part of this mystery as well. Whom we were all together was important to us and our horses were everything. Bernie and Elton’s song Indian Sunset off their Madman Across the Water album was our warrior song.

Often, we rode barefoot. When cold we had our parents’ go shopping to buy us moccasins. We read about the history of the Medicine Wheel and experimented with our innocent religiosity.

The Medicine Wheel is based on the wisdom of the Native American belief. The four directions of nature are part of the medicine wheel circle representing the four seasons.

While riding we carried a compass to know which direction we traveled. Spring is the direction of the east which is also the time of brave eagle. Summer is the direction south which is time of trickster coyote. Autumn is the direction west. This is the time of retrospective bear in his cave or sometimes owl and the setting full moon. Winter is the direction north and is time of wise buffalo.

We were robust girls misfiled along a line of make believe. We used our imagination, developed our spirituality and because of our horses, we united these two qualities into an earthy reality.

Lake Onondaga, Tree of Peace

My Medicine Wheel

Proclamation Indigenous Peoples Day

https://www.whitehouse.gov/briefing-room/presidential-actions/2021/10/08/a-proclamation-indigenous-peoples-day-2021/

Cheers to Tito, books out @ Pre-orders…

1978- Los Angeles Flipside # 10 Photo Al Flipside.

“When you’ve jumped the fence into the bath

we will understand if you have the last laugh.

Just as things seem as they were before,

down with the field up with the air conditioner.”

~GBH Forbidden Zone.

Before we got our new fence it was a forbidden zone for our cats. The fence had holes and was leaning over into the neighbor’s yard. To make a long story short we decided to just go ahead and fix it with a new fence…

“A flash of lightning. Dionysus becomes visible in emerald beauty.”

~ Pg. 65 Dithyrambs of Dionysus / Friedrich Nietzsche

No longer a forbidden zone, it once was a dark night when the rains came with lightning and took our Football kitty away from us. Was it the hole in the fence and the neighbor’s German Shepherd? Was it the nasty drug dealer now gone due to the dumb bloke being taken away by the police? Or was it an alien mutation … it sure looked like one. If you do not know what I mean look it up? Finally, it could have been the other side fence that is also now new. It was replaced a couple of years ago. A jump over by local twister trickster coyote? Coyote told me this,

“Nope not me.”

What was once a forbidden zone is not forbidden anymore.

This autumn has its forbidden zones. I must be honest my once explored forbidden zones have become zones of good fruits of wonder.

I am turned on because a hearty harvest has come in. It feels good. Here are some projects I’ve been part of. Here is the harvest…

Where The Wild Gigs Were –~ Tim Hinely & Friends, HoZac Books.

https://hozacrecords.com/where-the-wild-gigs-were/?fbclid=IwAR0UFeZvrMwWWWWDJcrgfMkPDgw8Y6MSyEwQ_M8wU1rkLoZfGA95uJPZqZg

New Wave Chicken, Steve Hart, Art Issue, Fluke Publishing,

This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is 185246509_1785559494950149_3029390388761368667_n.jpg

https://fluke.bigcartel.com/product/new-wave-chicken-9

FORBIDDEN BEATS S.W. Lauden, out on Rare Bird Books.

I must say the “wheeling and dealing” is fun and sometimes hope filled activating. A learning experience. Contributing in a new way I am like our new red western cedar dog ear fence.

I am shining from the inside out.

The back door man is not someone I deal with … it is all up and up now.

It is amazing when a major film company takes the time to mail you an original designed t-shirt. It feels nice to be valued and treated with respect.

So, the new fence got some dirt, mulch and a couple of lavender plants.

Universal Pictures Feature Production, Universal Pictures is in production on a theatrical horror motion picture by Jordan Peele (Get Out, Us).

This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is img_3576.webp — *Tito Larriva Los Plugs*. Oct/8/2021 Origin ID-AHCA Alex Bovaird t-shirt.

Innocuous Surreal-intrinsic

One of the three sister goddesses known as the three Graces who are the givers of charm and beauty in Greek mythology…. I call upon her now…. we need real beauty….,

You may think the story I am about to tell you is a bizarre story, but it is real, we are living it… yes now… it is redundant.

I have foresight. It means I can see things. The Covid-19 and all variants are not what you may think. It lives and expands through our bodies. Spreading from human to human …

If you could see it like I can, I encourage you to change your mind about things. If you are playing it safe, you will understand that what you are doing is for the common good of all human beings.

From another realm the Covid-19 virus is like a vast spider’s web. It takes and expands. It goes around and around. Humans are just a source of temporary expanding blissful glory of this multidimensional expanding life force.

It hovers and attacks those who are unaware and stupid. It can read minds and goes after those who play this death game. Some humans are in on it. They think they have control, and they want other people to die. It is a form of mass hysteria of denial that the virus picks up on. It is not stupid. It wants to survive. Until the very end.

I can see it. My foresight tells me to tell people to beware, be careful… yet they play a lost game of denial, ignorance, and defiance. They tease it. This only makes it hungrier. The common good of humanity is not their concern.

I wait and watch from my cave. Deep grieving I feel. I see it all from my electrical fire. I see the variant spreading. A dancing organismic virus web going around and around… and every time I see it from a distance, it sees me very aware.

I give it the finger because mine is cleaned and watched, my mask is on and I social distance. That is the one thing this creepy multidimensional monster hates.

I hope you know what this vast nympho wants… close together people, human beings who sweat on each other, jumping up and down against each other. It is a nightmare, Surreal-intrinsic… and all I can do is watch from a distance.

Innocuous in my cave around the electrical fire, for now… what a real sickness I see…

My Punkalullaby

Excerpt from MY PUNKALULLABY a paperback Memoir

I fell into the punk underground, but I was not a groupie or reject from an earlier

music scene. I was one with the punk scene,

and I tumbled into the mystery of it. I had a

voice again like I did when I was that young

tomboy. The punk scene was like Halloween,

Christmas, horror films, and freedom all at

the same time. Overwhelmed, I felt as though

I was in A Midsummer Night’s Dream,

mimicking Puck— taking on the images that

were around me without question.

I was becoming one with my punkalullaby. I coined the word punkalullaby.

It means that the whole time I was in the

punk rock scene, from beginning to end, it

was all about a song. One song to the next

pulled me throughout the scene. Once that

loud music got into my blood there was

nothing like it. I was socially awkward, wild,

and morally uncultivated. I was a perfect

product for the Los Angeles punk rock scene

because I was someone that the normal

culture had completely abandoned. Yet, here I

was, welcomed into an underground

counterculture.

It was my turn to create a name for

myself. I became a punk rocker. I would spit

in your face if I hated you. I’d hit you if I

loved you. For the first time in my life I felt

power.

I cut my hair, painted my nails black and lips Revlon Blackberry.

My bellbottoms

were thrown out and replaced with black

straight legs. I shopped at thrift stores and

navy surplus stores for my clothes.

For twenty dollars, I could buy a

complete wardrobe. I wore cowboy boots or

rain boots. I collected badges and put them

on my shirts. These badges were of local

bands and images that were important to me!

I started buying punk rock records and

listening to punk rock music and continued to

listen to the radio.

Wicked Men

Alexis Zorba: God has a very big heart but there is one sin he will not forgive. [slaps table] If a woman calls a man to her bed and he will not go.

I viewed two films last night. The films are Wicked Woman and Zorba the Greek. They are in general both 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 a motif came forward that bumped 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 a happy ending for them. 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 in on a man he takes her, and they plan a sinister plot that falls through. Richard Egan as Matt Bannister gets off the cheating hook and Billie is blackmailed, 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 booze 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 that the two dames in this film should have been wise by telling 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 fool. Zorba is a creative natural genius that has a compassion that is appropriate at times. He teaches Sirtaki to Alan Bates as Basil. 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. Kind of 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. As a young girl growing up, I had this crap dumped into my sensitive unconscious psyche. This kind of male world. I am glad I am wise to it now. I can enjoy these films for their place in history. Yet, I wanted to affirm they are playing against the feminine rules.

Man, at bar, “How about having a drink with me?”

Billie, “I can’t it’s against the rules.”

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