Where we stand


Here I stand where there once was a field ! I ran on it and played! I went to seasonal carnivals here! It progressed to a miniature golf course and large slides as I grew! later was a theater here where I viewed films upon a CinemaScope screen! Now there is my boy carrying toilet paper on the same spot years later! I wish I could take him back with me to the same spot years ago where I ran, rode the octopus carnival ride and lived my wild free youthful days! Where there once was a field, carnivals… But now only assault, concrete and a fucking Costco! Well at least the toilet paper is cheep!!

the shrew old crow with pink underwear…

As a crone it is nice not to worry about becoming pregnant in the physical realm as in the time when I was a maiden. I did love motherhood. I have other creative juices flowing now. Mine is to inspire and tell my stories. I can hope that the Banshee stay in the distance blowing their sweet seducing breezes and empty drops into cooing monsters. The real monster is how we live in a political system that attacks women’s bodies. Propaganda and control over the most sacred. As the Pope holds up his ritualistic cup made of the womb of the earth.

“What mockery”  laughs the shrew old crow.


I laugh because I have deeply studied their degrese of knowledge. I laugh because as a woman I have played all of my cards of sex, love, abandonment and rebirth.  We live in a remarkable human world with a wiser nature. Build up by vast intelligence and physics; measurements, math , and theories build upon reason and our beautiful imagination. Why or how can a political party regress so much. Back to themes of the Dark Ages. Back to the Classical Period where only 10 percent of the population enjoyed their culture as the rest worked as slaves. It is a time to jester and flip off the system; a time to inspire the youth to take their turn in new justice.

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I affirm my art here as a way to share in the voice of women that are standing their ground and calling for inward justice to be heard aloud in the world. If only by creating in a vastness of this universe of electrical ‘ons and offs.’ Sitting with you around the continual electrical-oracle-internet with our minds and our typing fingers.


PINK OUT DAY: After months of outrageous attacks on women’s health and rights. Sept. 29 2015

Stand with Planned Parenthood



“Where art thou?”

Two pieces of white cake with yellow frosting. Thick yellow butter cream frosting. Before going into a sugar induced slumber, I will force myself to write. Coffee fights the sweating as a homeopathic fight …good against evil.


Flopside comics suck and so do you

My fictitious Mr. Fuck “where art thou?” You once hung with me and we laughed and created those fucking awful comics. My friend your musing has left me.  When is it you last crossed my path with jest and obscene ways? With your old story books piled high;  found in a dumpster behind the Goodwill store? The echo of your fart from the alley as I walked down the street under a crescent moon… those dark dark nights.  My muse, my pal; out drinking anyone under the table. Music so loud in you crib it was as if living in Queens near the Subway. Vibrating, rotten trash and pizza but laughter that reached the Gods. “Where art thou?” … your  image blurs and wanders and your black boots and purple tie are silent in my closet.

Flopisde Comics By Hudley

Flopisde Comics By Hudley

I call on you. My muse and jester. Lets spend a day soon walking our walks and talking our talks… cracking jokes and knowing that idiocy is around every corner. I might even smoke a cigarette with you in an alley while I barf by the dogs’ lamp light.

_ finis

Story Book Day Prompt


All about A song ‘Tis the People

the peple

2015 Current Political Message from “we the people”…

‘Tis the business of little minds to shrink; but he whose heart is firm, and whose conscience approves his conduct, will pursue his principles unto death.
~ Thomas Paine

Tis the song that keeps on giving. Always fresh and always politically correct. The youthful beauty of Stephen Stills and the uniqueness captured on this video may not be live, but it does express the creativeness of this ’60s band. I try to pace myself with Buffalo Springfield, from this time and place in musical history, as not to burn out on them. Kinda like other bands I am devoted to. Every 6 months I ‘gotz’ to have ’em.  Anyway this song speaks for what is going down now. A current events song. I am digging it too.

All about a song

the“Did I request thee, Maker, from my clay
To mould me man? Did I solicit thee
From darkness to promote me?”
John Milton, Paradise Lost

I had to hear this one…. it is classic punk…. a song about the harbinger of autumn… the monster of monsters who was actually very insightful. He had a beautiful soul. But whose soul and whose story… still I wonder…

Her Bidding…

Adelaide's Flower Watercolor by Hudley

A Mom’s rose

Walking through the fear of standing tall is how karma kicked me in the butt. Now I can do it. She did not want me to stop writing, or painting or being strong!

A few years ago before my parents passing we tried to get them to use cell phones and computers. The best we could do is for mom. She snuck upstairs where the computer was hidden from Dad, he did not like computers, and she played poker on the compter, and the game Hearts too. She had to adjust her time as not to interfere with her attention given to Dad. He was demanding of her time that way. Maybe she found this fun freedom when Dad was viewing Golf on TV or some other annoying sport. Maybe it is when he went to the store to get some groceries? You bet Mom had her ear phones on listening to the radio. Listening to her Dodgers when the season and clandestine entertainment permitted.

Now I am talking about dreams again. Sometimes it is not all Jungian archetypical stuff!! Mom walks her drama in my dreams; pointing to things I must attend to. I do the best to understand her. Yet as we have both learned, foresight does not help… it only prepares us for the future; we can not effect a change.

Now that I have done your bidding maybe a bright flower in my path through synchronicity …would be nice about now.

Just hanging around the fire with Coyote, Bear, Buffalo and Eagle…

Is the smoke appeasing you? I hope so. I am still grieving.

… onto the game of Hearts.



Generation songs…

 “Without the awareness of the archetypal in the behavior which gives meaning to the madness, there is nothing left but the secular nomina of psychiatry and comparative sociology” ~James Hillman
Flower a

Watercolor by Hudley

If one is caught in the ‘worlds woe’ and madness remember the above quote. And try to find out what it means. For me Stella by Starlight is a wonderful representation of something beholding to my soul. An awareness of the numinous of the archetypal. It brings down my blood pressure and turns up the mystery of creative juices. Lifting me to a safe place of love, romance and goodness.
My parent’s generation was so romantic. I learned to dance while watching my parents dance to this type of music. My dad told  me when he first felt something special for my mom at a college dance. She put her face close to his. He felt the warmth of her face upon his.
Stella by Starlight  is one of those songs that soothes one with the romance for life and its mystery, by Jackie Gleason & His Orchestra !
“Stella by Starlight” is a jazz standard written by Victor Young and featured in The Uninvited, a 1944 film released by Paramount Pictures.

Minus one on the Richter magnitude scale


Today while performing my shopping chores as part of my multitasking profession as a big mama mantis. I came to the checkout lane. There I was beholding to all the magazines before me. Cakes, ladies in low-cut dresses and The Pope. Oh boy was I delighted.
“Hey Miss if you haven’t started to load your groceries come on over here.”
I let the tan man holding a bag of ice go ahead and we followed. Oldest son was helping me today. He had a smirk on his face over what I just did previously. I try not to embarrass my children… yet as a repulsive creative anarchist my libido is now set on little humorous self-indulges.
My confession here is funny to me and eldest son did seem to make a little smirk like I wrote before.

Two magazines assaulted my beholding them. One was Mr. Pope on a magazine cover, and close by was a Miss. Revulsion model on a magazine cover. The image of Mr. Pope and what he represents as that Holy man of this earth; penetrated my consciousness with my resounding “N0”! Thousands of years scanned by my brain of all that patriarchy goo.

Then that lady with the purple dress posing with her trained model stance, a photo shopping glowing smile made me itch with revulsion. Two smiles from Mr. Pope and Miss. Revulsion model needed to share an X-rated embrace.
“Hey son look at this!!”
I took the magazine of Mr. Pope cover turned it over and with a slap placed him on top of Miss. Revulsion model magazine cover. Then we were interrupted by a check-out guy and so the story goes.
The blending of paradox is a great feeling. I accomplished my silly little anarchist humorous self-indulge. Minus one on the Richter magnitude scale … so oldest son and I went on our way. He likes Southpark…

A day In a Dame’s Life

Serenity, discernment and to know the difference.

The Serenity Prayer

God [Goddess] grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.

Our Kitty Flash

Our Kitty Flash

Today I’m approaching this day not so personally or with much expectations! I’ve called on my visionary allies in meditation. I remember the serenity prayer that I learned as a child! Readying and finding those comforting words to pole jump difficulties or walk, run or stumble through them! Today is one of those days. Maybe a bright day of closure? Maybe a day of enduring compromise! Humor as a member of my being, please jest with my lungs and effortlessly bring forth a crack of happy realism! Memories of a whole room filled with painful belly laughter where I once beloved while feeling the locality and uncompromising illusion; maternal and paternal love from my siblings. I have ridden a marry-go-round and now reach for that golden ring of hope!!

On the waning crescent moon with Venusian ruler ship and Martian justice; served with a temperance of Jupiterian humoresque.


That’s All

Living in the moment. Just living in the experience. Thinking is the moment while experiencing the movement, the stillness; hearing the soft, the loud, and the unknown. The paradox of living in the moment. Change is constant. Nothing stays the same. All the nouns move out of view, coming and going within the now. Dying, death, birthing and birth; the exoskeleton of the eternal praying mantis drops and decays  as a known metamorphosis is happening in the moment. An experience of living in the paradox. Shimmering greens and purples: pinks and browns while resting on the dark earth, stillness fixed on the sunset. A slight moist subtle turn to overcast sentiments. Forward in the moment.. now that is it baby !