We must explore!

The Naked Grace…

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.  Dead Man’s Party by Oingo Boingo is an amazing song that shares some interesting historical mysteries.  The Forbidden Zone by Charged GBH, one dose and you take their hand into a strange journey of a musician’s psyche.

♦Donovan is an unusual songwriter and folk singer that touches upon the light side of our psyche. He reminds us to remember the beauty in life. It is around us and in us if we go looking for it. Our psyches do often look back at us. We can reflect on this soft beauty from time to time.

“When sundown pales the sky

I want to hide a while

Behind your smile

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

♦Oingo Boingo’s song is remarkably interesting and worth listening to intensely. As a young punk back in the late 1970s I had an Oingo Boingo badge on my jacket. I was approached by a couple of punk chicks who mocked me and belittled me for wearing it. A time when the first signs of punk cultism started to show its ugly face.

“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 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.” Chapter Spencer Kansa, Pg. 92 Wormwood Star, The Magickal Life of Marjorie Cameron.

♥A wild journey inward to the shadowy psyche is found in the book City Baby from Highgate to Hawaii… Life, and GBH by Ross Lomas.

“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.” ~ Chapter neil sedaka, Pg. 120.

“Take my hand and we’ll explore,

The forbidden zone.

When you’re in your own tree,

But don’t know if anybodys home.”

Jimi Hendrix was playing guitar while Anne was a nun of salvation 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. I find that Ross most likely is stronger for his experience. A bite like this prepares us for real outward tragedies as we are facing today.




It turns me on. Enough said

I love this picture that my son took of me. It is that time when I united the male and female within me symbolized by my two tattoos of Dionysian Hollyhocks.


I was reading that Indian Gurus’ overall goal is to unite all religions of the world. They also talk about a united male female god. This is very simplistic I know. Also, the religions of the world have tended to be very male oriented. As most cultures or all cultures for the last two thousand years. As a religious studies major in college, BA and Masters, I always had a thorn in my side. With in-depth Jungian Psychology I have found the answers to many of my concerns. For me it was uniting the masculine and feminine within myself, or in Jungian terms the anima and animus.

I have a “hard-on” for life. Even within the diversity of life right now. I can’t help getting one when I see flowers in bloom and the whole of nature in a type of rapture. Welcome Spring. It is not the male kind of hard-on but it something inside. Not sexual but very blissful-orgasmic at times

Now I try to feel it as often as I can. When I get the hard-on for life. Flowers blooming, a song, my friends all help to amplify this experience.

It is ironical for me to have these feelings while also having to balance it out with my compassion for what we are all going through now. I know it is a dark time, a real challenge for all of us in different ways.

I am mindful of those suffering. They are not alone when we think upon them. I have love in my home that comforts me.

Also, the human Ego is my friend. I think that males and females have a different relationship with their Egos. I feel males need to let their Egos float downstream a little. I think females should ride their Egos. It is good to be admired as it is to admire another. I like the feeling of appreciation as well as when I feel the feelings of appreciation for another.


As a female riding her Ego it is like riding in a canoe. Sometimes the river is smooth and glossy. Other times it is a prissy fucking nightmare. Yet we need to express our realities to the world as I am doing here.


Shine on shine my little star

image rellief / Stencil of Chiron 1995

Chiron, is a small Solar System body in the outer Solar System, orbiting the Sun between Saturn and Uranus.
Orbital period: 50 years. Discovered: October 18, 1977Radius: 84.314 mi Aphelion: 62′ 0″ Orbits: Sun Angular diameter: 0.035″ (max) Discoverer: Charles T. Kowal


Some say that punk has been around a long time. It has in one form or another. Yet the flavor I am referring to is a unique form, known as Punk Rock, that formed around the cusp, a little before and after, 1977. The median of young punk at that time being the age of 19. As most born in the year 1958.

The small solar system body discovered at the time is Chiron known in mythology as “the wounded healer.” Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine formed at that time. Punk bands with this flavor formed too. The Saints, The Dammed and The Ramones. Sex Pistols etc. Around the time of 1977 to 1987 is the decade of the creation of this unique flavor of punk that continues today.
Now (charged) GBH, the Circle Jerks and Social Distortion are celebrating their 40-year anniversaries around that time median.


Mar 28, 1977, Chiron enters Taurus. Feb 18, 2019 Chiron enters Aries. “Chiron teaches us the philosophical perspective, and the perspective that our wildness, which may put us outside the status quo, may be our wisdom.” ~ Tim Lyons


The current 40-year celebration is based on the beginning close to the cusp of 1977. The originators and wild ones who moved with this flavor of punk rock.
Back then were not our glory days but more the beginning when we all had to create our hubs, bands, media, promotions, record labels, and fanzines. We were isolated and dependence on each other was the key to our survival. The news did not mention us unless cops charged our shows. Our ways were strange and unique. We did it all ourselves. Dark rooms, silk screens were what we did. Flyers are how we communicated.

I always had a way into this flavor of punk. It is in my DNA. Like most of us original characters we are now writing about those days. As a bard and punk journalist, it is only natural for me to do this.

Recently I received a review on Amazon calling my Punkalullaby memoir as being “Trite and Boring.” I thought of many ways to respond to the criticism, but I did not. It was a long process for me creating and then sharing my story. I think that review is more about the reviewer than my story. If that person took the time to read it. He would have found a woman’s psyche addressing the world with her wild woman ways. It is about characters, music and the growth of a punk scene. Punks who grew up together.

I don’t see the past as my glory days. Yet, I did make some darn good friends. I think that 1977 was a unique time that brought a lot of misfits tighter together. This is all about our experiences and friendships which both need to be held up high and respected.

This is the key of our punk scene. Its foundation and flavor of punk rock, music wise that is. Chiron is an embellishment,  a signature in the heavens that once announced our coming. That it all is valid and has deep meaning. So, do our lives.

“Shine on shine my little star

Up above the world honey that you are

Shine on now you don’t give me no love

Hit me like a death ray baby from above.”


 

 

 

 

Hudley’s Manifesto

1977 – 1981 Jimmy Carter, 1981 – 1989 Ronald Regan, 1989 George Bush.

Be More Than An Animal

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“Life is not primarily a quest for pleasure, as Freud believed, or a quest for power, as Alfred Adler taught, but a quest for meaning. Pg. 27, Frankl.”


Anarchy, chaos and no government were unending slogans within the punk rock community. Remember this structure. We turned the peace hippie finger symbol into vice, vandalism and violence.  Plenty of clubs were destroyed and punks were not asked to come back. We rebelled against authority. The music and lyrics of songs moved us. Our persona as punks defined many of us but not all of us.

Today I see a President who is using these same ideals. Less government, anarchy against our United States constitution. Every day he creates chaos by dividing the people of our republic.

It is strange to me to see this. I am not the young punk I once was. When young I rebelled because I was angry at a world that let me down. I had the freedom to rebel. Other countries do not have this freedom to speak out.

Now as an older woman I see how corruption does not care about the goals of freedom. Without a conscious we have no chance of drawing a line.

As a young punk I developed and learned about compassion, integrity and creativity. I have a moral compass. I have come more to see the world as in a constant state of duality or contrary perspectives.

When Trump uses anarchy, chaos and less government to take from the poor and give to the rich, I rebel.

When Trump and his fossil fuel industry take from the land and give to the rich. I rebel.

When immigrants are housed in cages, similar as a concentration camp, and separated from their children to be sexually abused. I rebel.

When the republican party supports anti-abortion propaganda while taking healthcare away from children. I rebel.

Trump takes the truth and inverts it and surrounds it with emotionalism. A heated propaganda simile.  Politicians do play their games, but Trump uses his ministry of propaganda like Paul Joseph Goebbels did. He was a German Nazi politician and Reich Minister of Propaganda of Nazi Germany.

As a young punk I unconsciously searched for the dignity of life. As young punks we questioned the status quo. I guess I am still doing this. It is a good quality to have. I want to believe that most living punks have this insight. A joined movement inside us individually and collectively.  An inside continuity. A search for meaning.

I am sure we all see this differently, but this is my perspective. There was something that brought us together.

At a current Youth Brigade show I heard similar words spoken about politics, age and being angry. No longer young punks we are standing up for life as something to believe in. Something is very wrong with our current President.


“Three possible sources for meaning in work (doing something significant, in love (caring for another person), and in courage during difficult times. Suffering in and of itself is meaningless; we give our suffering meaning by the way in which we respond to it. At one point, Frankl writes that a person “may remain brave, dignified and unselfish, or in the bitter fight for self-preservation he may forget his human dignity and become no more than an animal.” ~ Victor Frankl, Man’s Search For Meaning.


Dec 6th -We Read at Stories Books and Cafe In Echo Park

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(Keith, Hudley, Chris, Annette and Iris) Group shot taken last month after our fun (and a little drizzly) reading at Stories Books and Cafe ~ Photo by the great Gary Leonard

My heavenly shower

Jerusalem ~William Blake


My heavenly shower
is a sacred place
of hot, warm or cold water.

It is there for me in worst of times
bones ache and chills of fever
cleaning a dark soul quality away.

I sing, talk and compose there
I talk to my medicine animals there
and say my prayers.

It is an old shower with a whacked head
yet the water cleans me inside and out
my holy shower that sings me sweet words.

 

Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine Number 54~10 Year Anniversary Issue Paperback Documentary (replica) Punk Rock 1977 – 1987.

Integrity is in every image, interview, editorial and advertisement.


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The project of creating the first Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine # 54 Ten Year Anniversary issue is a scan of issue one through fifty. Different technology back in 1987 but our HP Laser printer in office and camera, set up in our garage, both helped in the scanned copy layout of images. Both printer and camera made this issue happen. It was Flipside Fanzine magic. Our new Commodore 128 computer was a revolutionary thing at the time. I painstakingly did all the layout for the first issue. We took highlighted interviews from each issue along with editorials. I did it then and I did it again with this replica issue. The only difference being is that the technology for this replica is a hell of a lot better. As well as the programs use to get Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine # 54 the way that it is. My dream was to come out with a paperback copy of this issue.

I adore this issue, so I preserved it.

Hudley Flipside

The Seminary of Praying Mantis Publishing.

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A new cover but otherwise this is a replica of the original issue but better. I have already gotten some nasty criticism about the new cover. Let me tell you why I did it the way I did.

The new cover is a picture Al Flipside took. This is one of my favorite pics of the early punk scene with Subhumans (Canadian Band) and Samoans. Greg Turner, Metal Mike, Wimpy, Hud, Gary and Jim.

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I am holding Flipside’s tape recorder.

We recorded all of our band interviews included in each issue on this tape recorder.

We were always in the middle of bugging the bands. So, to me it is symbolic of us. Al and I as we ran a Fanzine. It also shows you the world through Al’s eyes. We literally had thousands and thousands of negatives and pictures in our office.

The yellow patina is gone, and the pages are all straight. This issue of Flipside # 54 was originally printed on newsprint paper, so the pages did yellow.

I put a great deal of time into making this paperback into the sweet little punk rock number that it is. Some punks have told me that this was their punk rock bible. It is Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine issues one through fifty. A lot of punk voices. The integrity of what punk was at any time during the original punk rock scene is shared here.

Flipside Fanzine # 54 captures the continuity and real experience and thoughtful wild exuberant expression of many interesting individuals. It was a passion of mine to share in this documentation of a scene.  It still is which is why I continued over the years with this project to have a new handheld Flipside # 54 for anyone who wants to hold it too. I think it is incredibly special, in a punk kind of way, I hope you will enjoy it too.

Within this paperback book is our history of the early punk rock scene. We at Flipside covered that scene thoroughly, what we wanted to cover that is. It is best you read the editorial included at the beginning of this paperback to get a real sense of who we were. Ten years of documenting a scene included in issues one through fifty is a great deal to read. A magnifying glass may be needed.

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I always say the proof is in the pudding. Shit workers who worked on each issue are clearly defined in each issue. This is what I mean by proof.  Always a lot of hands in the cookie jar at the Flipside house. Suffice to say I will let this spectacular punk documentary speak for itself from the giant community of punk voices.

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I recommend my memoir My Punkalullaby as a sidekick to Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine # 54 Ten-Year Anniversary Issue (replica) because both are my punk rock opus, and I am very proud of publishing these editions through my publishing company The Seminary of Praying Mantis Publishing.

Both issues are for purchase at Amazon.


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The Seminary Of Praying Mantis Publishing 2019



The Nasty woman is me.

The Nasty Woman and the

Smörgåsbord of words and feelings… some very nasty…. like me.

“In his late works , he embodied these and other ills in the nightmare ridden figure of the cosmic giant Albion, or universal humanity, who has fallen in to deadly sleep of mundane existence. In humanity’s coma, the divine is a remote and forbidding sky-god: nature a sterile heap of atoms, lovers and family members, enemies; and one’s own innermost being, an unrecognized alien.” 

~Blake’s Poetry & Designs ` A Norton Critical Edition.

I realize I am being confrontational, nasty and outrageous. It is that two-week time as we move into the autumnal equinox. I hate this time of transition, but I love autumn.


Today I had to get gas on the way to where I was going. This local gas station charged me a 30 cents gas fee. Yet this is the normal way to skim the top and make a lot of money off millions of poor people. I remember when gas stations had attendants pour the gas, check the oil and fill the car tires. It was service with a smile.

I wish one of these monster gas companies would be brave and bring the service attendants back. They could collect the cash and we could give them the service charge… instead of a fucking machine.

Every time we take away a person’s job and replace them with a machine, we become less human.

I went into the mini-market and the cashier, who seemed to be acting as an employe,  knew nothing about the fee and said,

“I don’t know why you are asking about it. You are the only one that cares? No one else has asked about it.”

I looked at her silently and squarely.

“You should know about it and all the things around you here. I must pay a fee and it is dirty filthy outside around the gas tanks. I remember the day…”

A man came forward and interrupted our conversation and the cashier looked away.

“Excuse us,” I said. “We are talking.”

I used a figure to point to the cashier and me.

“Grumble, “said the man under his breath.

I left telling the cashier she should lose her job for not knowing anything.

Then I came home to find standing outside my home a strange older man smoking a cigarette.

“Are you waiting for someone,” I said.

“No.”

“Then why did you park here?”

The street had no other cars around. He then looked up at the tree. I then asked him to please move his car I needed to part our truck there. He seemed nice enough for not having a reason for being there besides smoking a cigarette. We talked back and forth.

“We have had issues with drug dealers around here,” I said.

He soon left and I moved the truck out. I know I was being ridiculous. I thought it strange that he would get out of his car with his cell home in hand to smoke a cigarette under our lovely olive tree. I did say to him.

“I don’t like the smell of cigarettes and I am sure the tree doesn’t either.”

I think upon a poem I wrote that I have changed a bit.

Any time of the year but now it is moving into the Autumn poem.

Green-gold olives

This eve
I take my broom
Last ray of sun is dead here …
it is real…

The shy clouds hide stars
Only the Moon, Jupiter and Saturn shine their breastplates.
Of radiant light…

I take my broom to the front of our home into the dustpan goes
Dry brown and yellow
Pointy olive leaves and hard green-gold olives…

Into the waste bin… away away.
Goes all the thoughts of this day
Of a wooing Crone…
Looking around as I sweep and bend

For any Fay to show their haunting ways 
In the clouds sailing on the night or
Upon the grasping arms of the olive tree. 
Queen of Elphame mocks me
As I move quickly and consistently,
I call her Sabrina…

How symbolic have I become?
Wild movement… yet strangely calm.
Sweet sweat dripping
My dusty perfume…

I do as many an old Crone
Sweeping clean the front of their home
At this transforming time.
Today I am a nasty one...