I am a crone peppered with punk and seasoned with many other flavors. Humor, sometimes nasty, lets off a lot of steam. Or descending or ascending into the extramundane!
I am happy to be a member of…
Top Posts & Pages
February 2012 – 2018
- "In the beginning there was a void except for the written word." The Avengers (Band)
- Art Stuff Man…
- Book Reading of the Day
- Book Reading of the Day, it's Sunday !!
- Books I Dig
- CDs and anything to review that i want toooooooooooooo!!
- Current Events..
- Dialogue with Breasts more than a sex object.
- Embellished non-fiction short stories
- Holly Duval Cornell's Poems & Prose
- My Red Book by Holly Cornell
- Nature Politics
- PUNK NO-stalgia :Punk Rock
- Records, CDs and anything to review that i want toooooooooooooo!!
- The Adventures of Sony and Raubie
- The Daily “FUCK” Gazette
- the Esoteric heart beat…
- The Praying Mantis
Stop thinking about art works as objects, and start thinking about them as triggers for experiences. (Roy Ascott’s phrase.) That solves a lot of problems: we don’t have to argue whether photographs are art, or whether performances are art, or whether Carl Andre’s bricks or Andrew Serranos’s piss or Little Richard’s ‘Long Tall Sally’ are art, because we say, ‘Art is something that happens, a process, not a quality, and all sorts of things can make it happen.’ … [W]hat makes a work of art ‘good’ for you is not something that is already ‘inside’ it, but something that happens inside you — so the value of the work lies in the degree to which it can help you have the kind of experience that you call art.
~ Brian Eno
Agathos Daimon, the Good or Rich Spirit”. His numinous presence could be represented in art as a serpent or more concretely as a young man bearing a cornucopia and a bowl in one hand, and a poppy and an ear of grain in the other. The agathodaemon was later adapted into a general daemon of fortuna, particularly of the continued abundance of a family’s good food and drink.
“Scientists know that electromagnetic waves carry information. Radio waves are a common example of how information is sent out via electromagnetic waves. The waves that your heart and brain generate carry information that is sent through your body and out into the space around you, just like a radio transmitter. Yet the heart’s signals have much more power.” – The HeartMath Story, as Told by Founder Doc Childre
I’ve heard it said that the soul doesn’t live inside our body but that it is more like a womb in which we are contained.
Turner, Toko-pa. Belonging: Remembering Ourselves home (Kindle Locations 2739-2740). Her Own Room Press. Kindle Edition.
“This disco guy wanted funk in our sound with 10,000 backing vocals, the guy laughed at Tony when he tried to sing, they treated us like shit. Casey wanted to hit that engineer dick…Posh Boy told us not to play games with him, he’d play games with us. That engineer was a real dick.”
~ Steve Soto ADOLESCENTS
In our over psychological culture, psychological testing substitutes for this seasoned eye and prevents its development. Instead of looking, we test; instead of imaginative insight, we read write-ups; instead of interviews, inventories; instead of stories, scores. Psychology assumes it can get at character by probing motivations, reaction responses, choices, and projections. It uses concepts and numbers to access the soul, rather than relying on the anomalous eye of a practiced observer.
Hillman, James. The Force of Character: And the Lasting Life (Kindle Locations 844-847). Random House Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.
It is the prime task of a truly modern mind to endure both the spiritual and the practical as the framework for her life.
Johnson, Robert A.. She: Understanding Feminine Psychology (p. 80). HarperCollins. Kindle Edition. __________________________________
Mysterious in day’s broad light,
Nature retains her veil, despite our imprecations,
and what she won’t reveal to human mind or sight
levers, screws or hammers
cannot wrench from her. ~ Goethe
Faust part 1
Writing has laws of perspective, of light and shade just as painting does, or music. If you are born knowing them, fine. If not, learn them. Then rearrange the rules to suit yourself.
“And just as the soul that is inside your dust.”
~ Pg 8 The Divine Comedy ~ Dante
“I always liked the intensity of the recording.”
~ Chris Bailey from the band The Saints
“Sometimes people try and tell me what is and isn’t punk, or that GBH do or don’t fit in, but they’re generally no older than my socks, and they know about as much. I’ve lived my life doing what I want the way I want to ever since I got expelled from school. Ever since 1977….That’s punk rock”
~ Ross Lomas: From his Book City Baby.
“As I was walking among the fires of Hell,
delighted with the enjoyments of Genius;
which to Angels look like torment and insanity.
I collected some of their Proverbs. ”
~ William Blake, “The Marriage of Heaven and Hell”, 1790
Tag Archives: Writing
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. 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.
Not reaching out
But reaching within.
Agathos daimon holds my heart
Humidity holds me back.
“Coninuctio” “in mercurio”
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.”
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,” the rose gives honey in return.
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.
Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you want to test a man’s character, give him power. ~Abraham Lincoln
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.”
“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
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.
“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 ]
“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.
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.
I am happy! Happy Birthday Joe. Thank
My Punkalullaby one – four….
“…unless human beings could live at peace with one another…”
“In Goethe’s world conception, which is of a magical nature, both man’s spiritual and physical existence is related to the whole Universe of Stars, Sun and Planets. Just as man is not limited to his physical body, which Goethe conceived as the garment of both soul and spirit, the stars are not considered as simply meaningless massed formed in a three-dimensional space time continuum. Rather , Goethe regarded the heavenly orbs as the outer physical expression of Spiritual Beings, higher nonhuman Intelligences, which radiate spiritual and qualitative forces with their operative orbits. ~Pg. 162-3 The Spear of Destiny by Trevor Ravenscroft
I hate August. I am whispering, in case she is listening. It is the heat, humidity and trials that come along. This month we have retrogrades, a moon and a sun making a big deal about their place in the heavens. I get it. It is a lovely galactic symphony. So, come the trials. Some are big and some very subtle and diabolically a pain in the ass. I try to keep sensible and logical, which I learned from my oldest son. It is hard to sometimes be logical and I turn to my passions.
So, the books start to come. I show a little interest in something from my past and the books will come. These are two of them another in on the way. Not my doing it is my darn husband. He has a statistical and chess mind. He thinks that by getting me these books that interest me, he can buy more chess books. So be it. I guess those Rosy stories have been whispering in my ear as of late.
As I said, it is that time of the year when chaos can be a good thing. From the cracks in the universe we find special gifts like pearls. I shall go with the flow now… so have a good August… stay hopeful. Hopeful for months to come.
“And while holding the talisman of power in his hands he told his Aides that mankind was standing on the brink of the most evil epoch in the entire history of the Planet. His young subordinates did not know about the Atom Bomb which was a most closely guarded a secret at this time. They asked themselves what could be more evil than the Concentration Camps of Adolf Hitler’s defeated regime, and they wondered if their General had finally gone of his head. General Patton lift the bunker beneath Nuremberg Fortress in a sombre mood.
Doom was written across the future of humanity unless human beings could live at peace with one another, and Patton could see in all clarity the danger of the new confrontation between America and Russia…Soldiers from the Third Division were standing guard outside the massive steel doors of the bunker in the Oberen Schmied Gasse when American aircraft unleashed the first atom bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The atomic age had begun.”
Pg. 350 The Spear Of Destiny by Threvor Ravenscroft
To my lullaby surrender
Warm and tender is my breast
Mother’s arms with love caressing
Lay their blessing on your rest
Nothing shall tonight alarm you
None shall harm you, have no fear
Lie contented, calmly slumber
On your mother’s breast, my dear
Here tonight I tightly hold you
And enfold you while you sleep
Why, I wonder, are you smiling
Smiling in your slumber deep?
Are the angels on you smiling
And beguiling you with charm
While you also smile, my blossom
In my bosom soft and warm?
Have no fear now, leaves are knocking
Gently knocking at our door
Have no fear now, waves are beating
Gently beating on the shore
Sleep, my darling, none shall harm you
Nor alarm you, never cry
In my bosom sweetly smiling
And beguiling those on high