Flopside comics is proud to continue on the next volume of ten editions of “FUCK” Gazettes. “Fart News” is the smelly echo of the word that is heard around the world. Volume two number one is a reflective piece of fart journalism.
A dualistic pause from the past into the present political drama! Yes, here at Flopside comics we memories quotes of our dear friend Thomas Paine. His good vibrations are close around.
His words echo in the moments of history that still speak to the noble of mind and heart. Pity the other fool that talks of truths…which he doesn’t even come close to saying in all his “tweetrums,” in fact Trump is an asshole… so there you go… that is fart news at its best. So go blow one and remember to be more than an asshole!!
The good thing about self-publishing is that one can always add to or take away from their work. As any artist their work is never complete. There is always the critical eye. Nothing is ever perfect but just something that is in shape and communicable. To inspire by imagination or invitation to a story is my way of spreading my memories! A heart for PUnk RoCk
What is new to My PUNK@LULLABY` Journal one through four?
A beginning inserts. As I was organizing looking through stuff for certain items, I always find other things. I put together a few of the old backstage passes I still have! Some of the inserts will be green and some will be purple. For those that have gotten to know me these are the colors I work with. Green and purple or my Seminary of Praying Mantis complementary colors.
I will share a few candy punk love words and will also be selling my journals one through four this coming Sunday July 30 at Soap Plant Wacko from 2PM to 6PM. A book reading and celebration of Terry James Graham, Punk Like Me! I think it will be fun times cause there’s lots going on in Los Angeles on Hollywood Blvd. What a treat!
Update…. Journal One through Four are now published as a whole paperback book.
My Punk@lullaby Journals, one through four, are now included in my paperback book for sale on Amazon.
Past process of books are not for sale at this time. A DIY product.
I have always believed, and I still believe, that whatever good or bad fortune may come our way we can always give it meaning and transform it into something of value. ~Hermann Hesse
Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine is not forgotten.
This was my concern in 2004 when I began my memoir about the punk scene I was passionately involved with. That Flipside Fanzine would be forgotten. How many punk rock books are now being sold today that mention Flipside? Enough to satisfy me. My Punk@lullaby Journals, one through four, are part of this memory. As I repeatedly say, “There are many stories from the big punk rock. Mine is just one of them. Mine is a complimentary edition to read alongside the big punk rock books out there!” My Punk@lullaby Journals share in the tapestry of the whole worth of what the original Los Angeles punk scene was and has now become! Yes, I have heard the echoes of “another old punk rock story.” This is ok for me to hear now! I can” transform it into something of value!” It is good for an elder to share stories about life. This is an ancient archetype that I have taken on.
I did approach others to have my book published. I answered my need to publish it by doing it myself. All that I learned from the original punk scene was available to me. My mind and soul, a computer and printer and a bedroom converted into an office. The integrity of Flipside Fanzine shines through these little numbers I call journals. All four journals I published myself. I am happy! As I move into turning 60, I have done something of value by completing my project. I now share my journals with the public. I was close to 30 when I left the original punk scene! That terrifying year was 1989. Yes, all that first Saturn return and second Saturn return jazz is happening as I write this post now. A continuity that I also share for those that study the oldest of synchronicity wise sciences.
My stories are not perfect stories. If you desire to buy one, or all four, I hope while reading and reflecting on my stories you will find some good values for yourself. It was an extraordinary time and we were wild free journalists documenting a scene. No one told us what to do. We were punks publishing a punk ‘zine. We were running with a tight but growing punk scene. Nobodies of an underground culture. All individuals were unique yet part of a community of rebellious friends. I still endure the punk scene.
Polarized situation that is confusing on both sides… yet there is something going on behind closed doors. The Swamp Hotel, Trump D.C. outpost… is not telling us what is happening. No schedules and secret green doors. “I can’t recall” and propaganda on both sides. Again this is how we the people are being polarized.
Improvising is having the ability to control one’s mind and think clearly. To speak from memory and experience within the presence of now and not get tongue-tied. I watch how some people are so good at this type of control. It amazes me. They can move their bodies, speak and improvise with a type of grace.
A controlling of the mind and the body with entertaining perfection.
It is not about repetition or practice, yet that is part of it. Taking tests and writing essays in a class is the same type of improvising control. Some are good at it and others are not. Takes a lot of practice yet some people can bull their way through with flying colors. That is what I would like to be able to do.
I guess this is why I love Jazz. It is improvising control that is so perfect. A yearning for me…
“I stood for a moment on the scent, smelling this shrill and blood-raw music, sniffing the atmosphere of the hall angrily, and hankering after it a little too. One half of this music, the melody, was all pomade and sugar and sentimentality. The other half was savage, temperamental and vigorous. Yet the two went artlessly well together and made a whole.”
“I like too many things and get all confused and hung-up running from one falling star to another till I drop. This is the night, what it does to you. I had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion.”
~ Jack Kerouac
I grew up during the 60s, 70s and 80s. I was 30 years old when I was bumped blindly into the world of a new education. Each generation I lived though, I loved. As a song, friend, or lover, which in fact… all three generations supplied me with abundantly.
I fell into the late 70s punk scene blindly and without any ambition, but the rebellious call of youth and ideology built on an underground scene. Yet what I witnessed in the 60s was the wildness of a different rebellion. I miss the hitchhiker’s ways.
People on the streets at every corner. I felt safe and awake.
Then as I have written before, the end of the 70s brought multiple attacks from serial killers and we all pulled into ourselves. Now I drive by the many blocks where I grew up and see all the streets are empty. Cars and more cars blindly drive right through my memories of those street kids. They were just hanging and talking.
They improvised life without any hand-held device. Only the feel of a hand.
I feel the need to move to a new place where there are no memories. I did it at the end of the 80s. I left to a place of no memories for a short time.
As a culture we have become so pulled into ourselves. I am guilty of this as well. I am not blind to what is going on yet, I am getting too old to do anything about it.
Venus on seashell, from the Casa di Venus, Pompeii. Before AD 79.
It seems contrary that Venus goes retrograde As Spring vividly approaches! The underworld is spilling upwards I’ve noticed shadows and illness Addiction, handicaps, and depression. My heart is hurt and overwhelmed. Man at the parking lot asking for money Young man in a wheelchair As parents push him through the supermarket his eyes deep in a world of despair. I hold on to the pain as it washes over me with tears Helpless tears of acknowledgment and power As we walk through these dark times To acknowledge it all with observing hearts That hear and feel! We help by our vibrations of compassion, empathy and caring. A silent prayer of hope, So, the wounded can find a gentle joy That pleasure brings upon their vivid blood-red hearts. She knows and she descends to us the gift of her sweetness for all times. Walking with those that hold the lanterns In the dark descending spiral into the underworld. Light that eliminates the darkness By acknowledgment, letting go. As hearts grow in applied ways This is our wisdom. A balm for our world… Breast bending up Chest falling down And love will be found there too.
“What is actually new in these interactions is the introduction of the financial aspect; if desired, the user has the possibility to monetize his expertise. Although, we can always share our experience for free, giving users the opportunity to have some financial compensation may enhance the potential of interactions by providing them credibility, recognizing their value and establishing a relationship of equals between the parties. Some people may well feel more at ease if, to complete their project, they have the possibility to ‘buy’ someone else’s know-how.”
This was written after my stuff was destroyed by a gang of stupid trashing punks at a show in the San Fernando Valley, California … like prison rape and the promoter did not give a shit… (my life threatened) PUnk Rock Swap Meet… regardless I moved on… my journals are now all in one paperback format where I can sell them online. Problem solved. (around 2016). Published paperbacks 2019.
my opus magnum
It is ironic. My jewel, my opus magnum, and creations destroyed by the very same scene that gave me a voice. The punk scene gave me a voice. I self-taught myself or created myself in this void of rebellion.
A new world. The ideologies, punk community where we helped each other.
We confront the status quo and want to change things. My memories are something I share. It took me a long time but, a validation from financial gain is a necessity for a value of one’s art. What makes it valuable is relative.
Time, attempt, joy, bliss, and humor. A joining in. I joined the community of the history of punk now. I took a vow in Jung’s terms.
I am confronted with violence, destruction, and hate. What is my psyche doing now?
How is Cosmos responding to this? The fire of destruction. The depth of despair. The wheel of talk that becomes tiresome to others.
The band plays on…
I smell nothing today.
But the recurrence of something I cannot change.
I move forward as a phoenix.
new possibilities new awareness
leaving the gutter behind me!
JOURNAL NUMBER FOUR
The Tape Recorder Issue. I dedicate this issue to the one and only tape recorder we used at Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine.
On the cover 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. I am holding Flipside’s tape recorder. Picture by Al Flipside. Out soon.
Now the new cover for Flipside Fanzine # 54 Ten Year Anniversary Issue. A paperback replica of the original issue. Published by The Seminary of Praying Mantis Publishing/ Hudley Flipside (2019)
All four journals are now for sale as one paperback memoir…
Click on both images to order for your reading pleasure.