Electric Honey: The Heart is more than a muscle that pumps blood.

“One day, having noticed my covetous gaze, he presented me with a tiny golden pendant of my own-two bees entwined together around a tiny honeycomb. It glistened in the sun light, so rich and burnished that I thought the minute drop of honey would melt and slide away in the heat.”

Daedalus gives Ariadne a gift. ~ Ariadne Page 7, by Jennifer Saint

Watercolor by Hudley Flipside

A reflection on Pluto in Aquarius … prose, experience and the imagination.

“What exactly is a computer chip?

A computer chip is a packaged set of electronic circuits printed onto a thin, circular wafer made of the element silicon, one of the most abundant elements in the earth’s crust. These electronic circuits work with the help of transistors, which serve as tiny switches that turn an electrical current on or off. These operations are the basis for all modern computing.”

“What are the 7 functions of the heart? The heart plays the following roles in the human body:

Pumping oxygenated blood into other body parts. Circulating hormones and other essential substances to different parts of the body. Receiving oxygen-poor blood and pumping it into the lungs for oxygenation, transporting waste products from the body. Maintaining blood pressure.”

The new Prometheus

A computer chip

Our Heart pumps blood.

A novel

Our technology

Life for all.

“Frankenstein’s Monster:

By degrees I made a discovery of still greater moment. I found that these people possessed a method of communicating their experience and feelings to one another by articulate sounds. I perceived that the words they spoke sometimes produced pleasure or pain, smiles or sadness, in the minds and countenances of the hearers. This was indeed a godlike science, and I ardently desired to become acquainted with it.”

~ Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley, Frankenstein

I remember one rainy night when a storm was brewing overhead. My computer was turned off, yet the room lit up as thunder broke close to our car. I stood in the dark room at that moment and witnessed my computer turn on without a password. I saw my husband’s yahoo emails open up and I saw much more before my gaze. I walked over and pulled the plug. It went dark as the room and the storm rumpled past us.

Was it only a surge of electricity that ran through my computer that night? Electricity animates many things and gives life.

“It’s not the love you make. It’s the love you give.” ~ Nikola Tesla

I am studying the astrological effects that Pluto in Aquarius will have on humanity and the world. I read a lot about the underworld, technology, transformation and even the word rebellion.

I think back upon Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley’s Novel, Frankenstein. I realize the same old idea has haunted me from the get-go. Who’s soul did Frankenstein’s monster have?

A computer chip, a human heart all needs energy or electricity for life. Be it in a story or on the computer I am using now or my heart that is beating.

I remember a dream I had years ago, and I learned in my dream that Pluto Loves Persephone.

All this foresight, astrology and science and I find the word “Love” lacking.

As though electricity flowing through everything is incapable of love?

Maybe we are approaching a time when we see that love is electricity. If we become aware of it as it is flowing into our unconscious and shadowy places, and into those endlessly created computer chips.

I have solved my mystery. The Modern Prometheus is a higher level of love and if electrify is fast, it is also explosive, it is also hot and gives of itself freely.

As the dear Monster observed,

“This was indeed a godlike science, and I ardently desired to become acquainted with it.”

“The electrical stimulus travels down through the conduction pathways and causes the heart’s ventricles to contract and pump out blood. The 2 upper chambers of the heart (atria) are stimulated first and contract for a short period of time before the 2 lower chambers of the heart (ventricles).”

Intellect is so valuable but now comes the time of the heart brain.

I am observing bees outside my window and see that in a way they live the perfect life. They work and collect nectar. They transform it into form and home and community. They can change their sex if need be. This is the best symbol of electricity based on love.

Still the individual bees are important. Still the soul, spirit and psyche are there. To learn and grow.

“Dionysos…deep amethyst, crimson and wine-dark red, emerald and lapis…lavish velvets and brocades, the rich fur of a wildcat and the delicate warmth of the flower’s petal…He is the sap that bleeds from the tree and the golden viscosity of the gift of the mother bees—honey.”

~ Aguilar, A. Marina. Alchemy of The Heart: The Sacred Marriage of Dionysos & Ariadne. Chiron Publications. Kindle Edition.

Mr. Fuck roars out his name.

Puff the Magic Dragon & Mr. Fuck’s Theme song.

I am finding Mr. Fuck has come out of his Bomb shelter to play… it has been awhile. He was pissed due to the fact that Mr. Shit’s theme song came out and no one cares about him anymore. So Mr. Shit and I got together and wrote a theme song for him.

Funny how creative endeavors come out to play again as one gets older. Mr. Shit and Mr. Fuck and I are feeling creative, silly and laugh a lot too.

I think about the song Puff the Magic Dragon and realize as I get older I am happy to find the call again of Puff’s gigantic roar and the song does not make me sad anymore.

“Together they would travel on a boat with billowed sail.

Jackie kept a lookout perched on Puff’s gigantic tail.

Noble kings and princes would bow whenever they came

Pirate ships would lower their flags when Puff roared out his name.”

Yes we all three agreed on this… so here is Mr. Fuck’s theme song that is well overdo.

Mr. BEE takes a drag watching as he critiques the theme song.

Weeping Tears of Animus!

Tonight, wee hours of morn… I have been spending time awake with my animus!

A cup of coffee my ambrosia

kneading kitty on my lap

Happy happy

Thinking of male figures in my life

Who I admire and love!

Tonight I,

Acknowledge the male within me

You have not lost me

I embrace you

And let you cry

honey let it out

Weeping weeping wet tears

My night with animus!

Heal the headache, tears

Heartache and trauma.

The earth and sky

Jupiter and moon .

A Ghost Mantis holding a Thyrsus

In Greek religion, the staff was carried by the votaries of Dionysus. Euripides wrote that honey dripped from the thyrsos staves that the Bacchic maenads carried. The thyrsus was a sacred instrument at religious rituals and fêtes.

Light and shadow magic comes to visit at different times in life.

The wind was strong and pushed over my angel solar light. I just got home from shopping as I was looking up at Jupiter and the waxing moon.

I have been changing my routines a bit. I go shopping at dusk now and take my showers in the morning or in the middle of the day.

Taking morning walks is something different too.

When I saw the angel at an angle, I ran to fix it when I noticed the shadow playing on the wall behind it.

I said aloud, “A Ghost Mantis holding a Thyrsus.”

I will let the angel be.

I took a picture and played with the image on Adobe Photo Express.

A lack of human consciousness.

“The Double does not exist only as an Ahrimanic shadow in individual men. There are members in this Doppelgänger sub-hierarchy of far greater power who act as the anti-spirits of peoples, nations, and races. And finally, there is the World Doppelgänger, the Anti-Spirit of Humanity, which plays its historic role as a servant of Lucifer in opposing the rightful evolution of human consciousness.”

Pg. 291 The Spear of Destiny, Trevor Ravenscroft

Taken from The Terrible Death Bubble Gum Comic A Flopside COmic!

“I am the spirit that negates.

And rightly so, for all that comes to be

Deserves to perish wretchedly;

‘Twere better nothing would begin.

Thus everything that your terms, sin,

Destruction, evil represent—

That is my proper element.”

― Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Faust – Part One

Friday night was time to go out and celebrate cause my man was winning a Chess tournament online. Youngest son, my man and I made three.

We went to the local Pub and then bar to celebrate properly.

We played darts at the Pub and had some healthy “Humulus lupulus” while listening to real records. The hiss and scratches and well listened to 45s made the music more enjoyable to me. Soul and ska and other melodies moved through the Pub and lots of hugs were shared.

At the next-door bar, we had some cocktails and enjoyed the slow ambiance of a well-loved bar. Nice and easy with an anime film on the screen. A break from the usual sports in most bars.

As we were finishing up, I looked over to see a man with a beard. Brown and rather friendly looking. We smiled in what I thought was a happy nod of enjoyment. He came up to us as my youngest son got up to take care of business. Then the man walked over to my man and me.

“Not just Jews were killed in WWII by the Nazis.”

We responded with a knowing agreement. Then he went on.

“My great grandfather saved a whole lot of people. Christians mostly and not many Jews.”

Seems this guy was reflecting upon his grandfather and WWII.

“You liberals think it was only Jews. You who voted for Biden and Kamala Harris!”

We then got a little confused and I said,

“How do you know who we voted for?”

Then he addressed me directly,

“Who did you vote for?”

“None of your business!”

We batted that back and forth a few moments.

Then came the flip into a world of conspiracies and insanity when he looked at me and addressed me singularly.

“You liberal voting people think only the Jews were killed in concentration camps. But you are the real Nazis.”

“How do you go from talking about WWII and then accuse me of being a Nazi?”

I then put my hand on the table with a whack. Telling him about how my dad got a purple heart as a captain pilot during WWII.

“I respect that you grandfather saved many lives during the war from concentration camps. Yes, there were all sorts of people who died there, and the people were also saved. Gypsies, Christians, Jewish people, I really don’t think it mattered who you were or your faith. Hitler killed anyone opposed to his belief system of inhumanness.”

The man with the beard seemed filled with total contrary ideas that made no sense but only served to confuse and attack others who he found offensive. He is one of the ministers of chaos. Who spreads their hate talk.

It was a really sad moment of the evening, and when he told me he did not give a fuck about Iranian women’s demands for freedom I turned my back to him and walked away with hands up.

Youngest son confused him by saying,

“I didn’t vote for Biden.” (Just to see the bearded mans confused expression of an unexpected answer.) And added,

“Thanks for the story.”

Nothing that going to Denny’s didn’t wash away mighty fast…

At Denny’s youngest son was laughing and said,

“I was staring at the tiles in the bathroom and then I walked out, and you were talking to this guy. It was a weird thing to walk into….”

He really enjoyed the people we met last night between the pub and the bar.

“Alister Crowley adopted different identities when the mood struck him-and, like Trump, did his best to keep his name in the newspapers-and chaos magick asserts that one’s identity is malleable, that one should “reinvent’ oneself often, play different roles. We should pretend to be someone else, to envision a “magical self” possessing all the qualities that we desire, something that some New Thought advocates also suggest . Chaos magick also promotes the idea of using “shock tactics” saying something “outrageous” in order to “enhance personal power,” something that, as with much else about chaos magick, seems to come to Trump naturally.”

Pg. 76-77, Dark Star Rising, Gary Lachman

These chaos ministers are a part of

WE THE PEOPLE,

They are out there,

and it is something to be aware of,

Even at the local bar.

Does George Santos ring a bell? He is an manifestation of this “Crazy Wisdom” of “Chaos magic!”

Seems it is what it is.

In a bar in the San Fernando Valley California to the House of Representatives

bewildering our beloved District of Columbia,

these dark spirits or anti-humans are hanging around,

spreading their chaos, chanting….

Bubble Gum Flopside Comics… so go screw!

We can work it out Postcards

We Can Work It Out…The Women Postcard Series

We Can Work It Out…The Women Postcard Series TWO

We Can Work It Out…The Women Postcard Series TWO

We Can Work It Out…The Women Postcard Series

We Can Work It Out…The Women Postcard Series.

Two to be released.

Postcard One of the series.

A New Flopside Comic of political persuasion.

Will our female representatives engage in “mischievous” crossover voting for the good of WE THE PEOPLE?

Mr. Fuck came out of his Bomb Shelter. From up in a tree, he watched through the window into the neighbor’s TV the endless votes in the House of Representatives. He saw that they were overwhelmed with dysfunction. Then a car drove by blaring a song. Mr. Fuck knew the song by John Lennon / Paul McCartney.

“Try to see it my way,

Only time will tell if I am right, or I am wrong.

While you see it your way

There’s a chance that we may fall apart before too long.

We can work it out,

We can work it out.”

He thought about the women in the House of Representatives, and he knew what he had to do.

“Mr. Crap how about bringing out those watercolors? Also ask Hudley for some watercolor paper.”

“I am on it,” said Mr. Shit.

Miss Opossum in the tree nudged Mr. Fuck saying,

“If Mrs. Racoon and I can work it out so can the ‘human females.’ ”

“Tell Hudley we need some brushes too. Also a few beers, a couple shots of Jameson whiskey and a big pot of coffee.”

“Don’t forget the half & half and honey, “said Mrs. Racoon.

Hope “Dancing in The Streets.”

On Fallbrook and Victory in the San Fernando Valley

Punk Rock Historian and Professional Consultant

Hudley Flipside

Life is so contrary and beginning and ending all the time. The stars seem stable, as they dance their astrological dance. The moon and sun and seasons are very dependable but not the storms or the opposite whispers of joy and enlightenment we may find. This earth will always be a contrary place sweetened with continuity and music.

Yesterday before the rain, Sara and oldest son walked over from their apartment. They are counting their steps. Later they left and we decided to join them halfway on their journey home. A longer walk than my usual mile per day.

It was easy all the way until we said goodbye and then we walked slowly onward, and we headed home, husband, youngest son, and I.

Would we get something to eat?

“No, it is past 6 PM and I don’t like eating much after then.”

That is what they get for always asking what MAMA wants.

On the way with Sara and oldest son I noticed a broken book on the ground. The pages danced below our feet for a long while.

I picked up three of the pages as a focused random moment of finding something wandering and enlightening me from the dirty street of trash. On this dark cold evening of winter.

A man was covered with such trash in the middle of the sidewalk next to the shopping mall and restaurants. He was pretending to sleep as cars raced by and we walked around him.

I sadly declared.

“He is going to get mighty wet when the rain hits?”

Husband quickly responded,

“He is most likely waiting for the shopping mall to close down. I am sure he has a safe place there.”

My feet got sore, and my back ached and howled as we headed home.

Now today I read the book pages tossed on the ground like leaves in a storm.

One thing that stood out were the lyrics for a song.

The pages are filled with words about music, slavery, finding a voice and hope. Someone was looking for their roots, history, and family.

I thought about my own family history. I think this is a push to get going with my own pages filled with words about music, slavery, finding a voice and hope. Hope from lyrics. A song inspiring us to dance to the hopeful dream of music.

As the dancing pages on a dark and dirty street.

“This is an invitation across the nation

A chance for folks to meet

There’ll be laughing, singing and music swinging

Dancing in the street.”

sweet and bitter WHEELING AND DEALING

I saw something unexpected today. Billy Idol got a star on Hollywood Blvd. and Mr. Henry Rollins was the presenter. I saw the photograph on a site. Now and then I do like to reflect on my punk rock glory days.

I think upon these two characters that influenced us by their music or words in a big way. I knew them, as many of us did, as youths with deep and high ideals that I once respected.

I met Billy after he left Generation X.

He visited Hollywood. A group of us youthful rebellious punks were talking about music. We were in the back of a liquor store waiting for some beer because we were not 21 yet. Someone was WHEELING AND DEALING with the booze scheme. Billy and I were talking about the Beatles and how much he loved them. He then cried on my shoulder stating to me that he missed his mates back home.

The beer arrived and a friend of mine whisked him away and that was the only time I met him. Over the years when I see him or hear his music, I often reflect back upon that sweet young kid who was kind of lost.

Henry was a wild youth too. He was kind of funny and thoughtful when I first met him. Yet as time went on our friendship soured. I think it was due to a subscription to Flipside Fanzine he never received because his letter fell behind my desk. Maybe the critical reviews I did of him in Black Flag were thought to be unfunny. His lack of humor made it easy to accelerate into doom.

Funny how a guy from England and a guy from DC can be standing on the grounds whereas young punks, who grew up here, used to run wild on those same streets. Then no need, or sense of fame or fortune.

Once equals as friends and fans of the punk scene, they got bigger, and we got smaller. Yet I think I am happy with my place in the world, and I hope they are too.

The sweet and bitter is what punk rock left me. As a punk rock fanatic,