Shine on shine my little star

“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”

Chiron Stencil by Hudley / 96

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 the punk scene. Punks who grew up together.

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 punks 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 was 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. 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.

“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

Back then, these days were not only our glory days, our youthful rebellion days, but more the beginning. We all anachronistically created our hubs, bands, media, promotions, record labels, and fanzines.

We were isolated and dependent on each other, which was the key to our survival. How we synchronized together is a marvel to think about. The news did not mention us unless cops showed up and closed down our shows. Our ways were strange and unique. We did it all ourselves. Dark rooms and silk screens in our garages is where we did it. Our glorious garages. Flyers are how we communicated.

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.

It can be lost, I find myself lost, in the big promoters and festivals happening currently. Great for the bands yet in general undesirable to me, a longtime fan. Yet not to worry, we know those small shows that hold the original punk magic, can still be found!

This is the key to 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.

Recovering from cancer surgery, it was difficult not to go see GBH as they entered my hometown. A sad time. As they surely drove by where I live on HWY 101. I dreamed that they might stop by or want to see how I was doing. Yet it will never be how it once was. Those dancing days, backstage days with punk bands, are most likely long gone.

GBH did not come to my rescue, put me in a wheelchair and roll me backstage to see them play live. Words they said to me once are now only a happy memory. Maybe next time. (May -2023)

click on image to order.

The Saints lyrics below, Nights in Venice:

It’s so black as I crash into the backroom

I feel so sick honey listen to the girls moan

My eyes they water and my knees is a-weak

And I fall down every time that you speaks

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 deathray baby from above

Come on!

Speeding down the highway you got no time to waste

Brain all used up just like the human race

Head spinning around from the 39th highball

And your sultan owns a queen who ain’t nothing but a screwball

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 deathray baby from above

24 hours till the end of the show, boy

If you are looking for love that don’t give you much time, boy

If your baby’s by your side you are gonna see her cry, boy

And when you look into her eyes it just won’t bring you no joy

Oh no!

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 deathray baby from above

WOW!

Come on!

I said take it

Take it down

Listen

(ten seconds of muttering)

I said it keep comin’ down, need to calm down need you to calm down. Sink it. A bit out of time. Shake it. Take it. Come on, won’t you take me for a ride. Won’t you shake me, out of time? Won’t you take me, for a ride? Take me down. Shake me. Little baby shake it. Little baby shake it. Take me down. Are you there? Take me down, down the ground. Yeah down. Yeah, drunk. Down down down down…

YEAH! Ah come on sugar! Gonna take a ride, where the girls don’t come. I wanna take your hand, go across the sand. When the girls don’t come. Come one sure, I gotta take a run where the girls don’t come. Well I take your hand, get across the sand. Where the girls don’t come, yeah walk to run. Gotta have some, yeah I gotta be a son/sun, ah come on! I said people come on, I can’t come no more.

East side west side it all looks the same now

Don’t need nobody but you don’t care nohow

Don’t need no love, don’t need no hate

You were screaming so loud but it was much too late

Oh no!

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 deathray baby from above

WOW!

Come on baby

Make it bad

Come on woman

Get it back.

I currently edited post from a few years ago… computer was acting funny. I think it is now done. 6/2/23

Who’s Soul did Frankenstein’s monster have?

“‘…from that moment [he] declared everlasting war against the species, and more than all, against [Frankenstein] who had formed [him] and sent [him] forth to this insupportable misery.'” 1)
Shelley, Frankenstein , Chapter 16, p. 12

Once upon a time I found the novel by Mary Shelley, Frankenstein, the new Prometheus. I became friends with Frankenstein’s monster. He was not the film version because I looked to the quality of his brilliant soul.

I wrote a short story entitled, Who’s Soul did Frankenstein’s monster have? I put the story in a folder and took it with me wherever I went. I was inspired and torn by my insight.

I felt I may have understood something no one else ever dared to wonder about. This was back in the 1980’s. Then, as busy, and as careless as a young punk might be, I lost the folder at a Mexican restaurant up-town Whittier, CA.

This loss haunted my nights. Back then backing-up-files was not so easy. This may have been before floppy disks? I did not make a copy of my short story of a monster’s revelations.

I did keep the little doodles about the story which I will share today. Maybe I did not misplace the folder. Maybe someone took it and still has it?

As one gets older time seems to bend backwards . It comes towards you so you can say hello again to those times of youthful inspiration.

I looked through all of my plastic boxes to find these images in my art closet. So glad the doodles were safe and not lost.

July moves into August

July moves into August. A time of justice and heat, a time of foresight and deep. For me it is about news… some bad and some good news. I have known this time of the year to be delirious dark and forbidden. Today it has reached an illuminating place of thanksgiving.

Between our psyche and the cosmos is magic. Magic moves between our hidden unconscious coming forth from our dreams. Yes, that Magic coming with psychic foresight of knowing. Real causality or synchronicity does not matter to me. Natural magic! I live all combinations.

Yesterday we went to Naval Air Station Point Mugu. Driving to Ventura from the San Fernando Valley can be harsh on a Sunday. We found a little farming street to follow down to Point Mugu. It romances the beautiful Pacific Ocean. Which is why we were there.

My dad was a WWII Veteran. As kids we enjoyed fishing on the pier that is located on this naval base.

Husband and I sat in our car for sometime. Wondering if we could approach and visit the pier for old memories. We did. A tight solider asked for husband’s driving-license. As the solider was taking the license from husband, I explained my family story. Before you could think we were quickly told to make a U-turn. No good byes or safe journeys.

Point Mugu has since merged with nearby Naval Construction Battalion Center Port Hueneme to form Naval Base Ventura County (NBVC).

We ended up at Port Hueneme Historical Society Museum. A sweet little place that smelled pleasantly old! The building was filled with old women and older history items. Outside the rather small building were many monarch butterflies. Hub bobbing around ourselves like best friends. We were then told the story.

It sounds like a magical potion. Milk weed, Cosmo flowers and chrysalis. It was the story of how someone took the time to love the process of this lovely butterfly. All it takes is a little love and a few nasty weeds to attract the attention of nature’s finest beauties.

Today upon my waking up I enjoyed a very good dream. A dream I have been waiting for since my mother’s death. It was a closure dream. In this dream husband opened the front door to the usual UPS knock. There was another package, another calculus book, or similar book, for the kids. Then we heard another knock on the front door. This time I opened the door. From top to bottom the front door was filled with packages. My husband gave me a guilty look. A pouting praying mantis face.

“It is not Christmas time,” I said.

I pulled out one of the packages. A large white one. A box that might conceal a dress or new pants. Then I saw on top the name ‘Holly’ written in cursive.

“How could mom give me this after her death?”

A wonderful gift from her. That is what mom would do. Write our names on top of our gifts. It was her writing…. I know it by heart!

Today has reached an illuminating place of thanksgiving.

Summer Poem # 1

My oasis
And cave.

Not reaching out
But reaching within.

Agathos daimon holds my heart
Humidity holds me back.

“Coninuctio” “in mercurio”
Planting seeds
Which do not ripen.

Outside my oasis
Seeds dry in the heat.

Inside the cave
I listen to Mercurius speak.

“The desires of the mind
Will take you nowhere.”

In Return

Receptive, illumination and synchronicity,

I’m a wise old blooming flower, waiting to be pollinated,

I’m receptive to what I shall become, Let life approach me,

I do not have to go seeking,

I have all I need to succeed, I’m a beautiful rose,
wise, good and ready.
I can be trusted,

I follow things through, I speak my mind,

Let the spirit of god / goddess, move over my deep dark waters.
Receptive as an open flower.

Now, waiting for life to impregnate me.

“The Rose makes honey.”

Promethean fennel

The wild fennel is growing in my garden,

From the Santa Monica Mountains,

Only a few seeds thrown around my land,

From the staff-sheath that I have,

Near my hearth.

My wild Promethean fennel,

Smells of licorice and earth,

Feels like numinous beats,

Waves from the coastal region,

Myths revealing through my soul.

Prometheus freed by Chiron,

Fire consumes my heart,

Compassionate green healing,

Of my mind and dreams,

Love will grow tall and strong

My wild Promethean fennel.

A Daily “Fuck” Gazette , theater of the trumpsurd

Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you want to test a man’s character, give him power. ~Abraham Lincoln

The Dump, paul ramen nooodle and Mr. Dence

The United States, the State of the Union Address… some don’t care and some are going to boycott the event. Others will watch like us at FLOPSIDE Comics. The theater of the trumpsurd!!! So Mr. Shit came up with this in his sleep. We listened as he snored and talked in his sleep. Mr. Shit said…

“The State of the Union Address… the Address… a dress.”

We listened.

“The dress… the dump is a dildo… Trump.”

Mr. Shit gave us a cleaver idea while he was deep in his sleep and talking in his sleep! He is an elder punk with dementia. Mr. Garbage listens closely to his wisdom and said it clearly to Mr. Fuck,

“A dildo and a dress…”

We smiled and then went to have a round of coffee. Today we will put on our best party dresses and listen to the addresses….

No man has a good enough memory to be a successful liar. ~Abraham Lincoln

Melancholia, Saturn and Albrecht Durer

The paintings below by Albrecht Durer can assist us to understand the esoteric importance of the planet Saturn. Saturn’s influence on us. “They all incorporate the symbols of Saturn to communicate a basic teaching.” I invite you to dwell upon these images and pine the importance of inward growth especially those who ponder in the world of melancholia.

Melancholia

“Melancholy fury” stimulated the three highest human faculties : intellect, reasoning, and imagination” His observation was that a higher consciousness emerges from darkness.”

[Cornelius Agrippa of Nesheim 1509, from De Occulta Philosophia]

"Melancholia" by Albrecht Durer — “Melancholia” by Albrecht Durer

St. Jerome

“The old man has transformed his gloomy cell into an earthy paradise with LIGHT streaming through the windows… his writings emphasize industry and resolve rather than despondency…”

The Knight, Death and the Devil

“The knight riding on with a sense of purpose…”

Quotes taken from The Saturn Pluto Phenomenon by Joy Michand & Karen Hilverson Pages 3 and four.

winged centaur, Etruscan black figure amphora, attributed to the Micali painter (6th/5th century B.C.)

Stop being a sap !

There are lots of pros and cons about the past solar eclipse. I think it is cool. I did not go to see it. There are plenty of beautiful images online to see. I can think of eclipses in my life though. One of them was Joe Strummer. His voice had an eclipse on my feelings as a youngster. As for many others, he changed our lives! Their first 1977 LP The Clash pushed all the right bottoms and was special for many underground characters. His voice woke me from my slumber. I experienced them at the Santa Monica Civic on their first US tour, Wow!

It has been forty years and he still moves through my heart. All those feelings; to be authentic, real, and alive. To create things uniquely and roughly with your own hands. Forty years of punk rock and I completed my four Punk@lullabys ! My Big celebration! I reached my goal and it worked out as I planned.

It feels good to know that my celebration is more an inward accomplishment for a punk ideology that still pulls through my heart as Joe still does.