SAN DIEGO HUMANOID TACO LEFTOVERS

As usual, I took a lot of photos on my recent San Diego trip. Maybe too many. So here's some of the overflow:

The above was in my room at the El Pensione Hotel.

Down India Street, in Little Italy, there's actually a Mexican restaurant called El Camino, with some great murals.

A beautiful lady smiles.

Some mariachis are ready to play.

And down the street, an artifact of a bygone age.

I had time to do a pilgrimage to Chicano Park.

Took a whole lot of photos there.

These aren't all.

And of course, S.D. is recombocultural tiki country.

So git along into the future, little dogies!

And happy trails to you!

CHICANONAUTICA TALKS HIGH AZTECH NEAR THE BORDER

Chicanonautica, at La Bloga, recalls my recent trip near the border:

To talk about High Aztech at San Diego State University:

As part of William Nericcio's English 220: Robotic Erotic Electrico class:

Ticmotraspasarhuililis:

CYBERPUNK FROM FRANCE

I’m always on the lookout for science fiction from outside the Norteamerico English-speaking zone. Sci-fi pretends to span galaxies and has been flirting with Chinese imports and Afrofuturism, but in reality most of it is still by and about white people who are a fraction of the U. S. of A. How do people squeeze their minds into those cramped, little worlds?

So I decided to give H+ incorporated, the first novel in English by French author Gary Dejean, a go.
 

I’m also curious about what Europeans are thinking about the future, even though I’ve started to think of cyberpunk as an artifact from the twentieth century, but then these days it’s becoming a short term for the expanding world of transhumanism, and other developments.

H+ incorporated delivers the c-punk goods. We get humans incorporating technologies into their bodies--we might even say their souls--and young people struggling to survive in dystopian future, that shows the cyberculture is becoming global and there is a lot of resentment and anger about the mess the older generations (mine included) have made of the world.

There wasn’t any of the Francofuturism I was hoping for, but it is implied that the young people of France have a taste for marijuana as well as angst.

Also, cyberpunk that goes back to good ol’ 1984 has developed from a revolutionary movement into a venerable, even respected genre.

Dejean does give it a fresh slant, fusing transhumanist body augmentation with fast and furious action, and a gorehound sensibility that moves at a pace that will satisfy readers who grew up playing video games.

I admire the professionalism of it, even though I had some minor gripes, but then I read in the author bio that H+ incorporated was adapted from a screenplay that Dejean is trying to get produced. Again, professionalism.

What I took for lazy writing--characters who are only referred to as the rasta, the Latino, and the Japanese are questionable in a traditional novel, but common practice in screenplays. That and setting it Manila, in the Philippines, but not providing details to make the reader feel it is screenplayese.

This isn’t a traditional novel, but I do love the novelistic detail. It makes for a better reading experience.

Gary Dejean is writing for the brave, new improved world. Old farts like me should pay attention.

CHICANONAUTICA TASTES GUAJOLOTE CON MAN CORN

In honor of Día de los Guajolotes, Chicanonautuica reviews a book called Man Corn, over at La Bloga.

It's about mysterious activities around Chaco Canyon:

Involving disarticulation:

And body processing:

So be thankful!

DONALD JESUS TRUMP IN THE YEAR 2034

I laughed when I saw it. Usually, books with titles like America 2034: Utopia Rising are awful--political tracts disguised as fiction. Sometimes they’re weird enough to be unintentionally hilarious. With the midterm election nearing and body count rising, I could some sicko laughter.

Then I read the blurb on the back. Futurist satire? Donald Jesus Trump? Force fields? The United Enterprises of America? I bought it.

After all, these are sicko times.

Besides, it begins with a character named Winston Smith (born in 1984) needing to take a piss. When I start a book with a scene like that, I’m setting that mood for irreverent shenanigans . But then that’s me . . .

I was bowled over by the torrent of craziness. I was reminded of my reading of new wave speculative fiction back in the Nixon years. Jonathan Greenburg has a wild imagination and keeps the weirdness coming hot and heavy.

Not only is there the United Enterprises of America, a Trump-centric, sociopathic fascist/corporate state, but also the United Peoples of America, a “Wetopia” held together by the telepathic effects of the hallucinogenic plant ayahuasca. A dystopia and a utopia--in conflict-- presented at the same time.

The Enterprises is a fiendish and brutal riff on what America under Trump could become. It's grotesque to the point that even a lot of Trump haters would be offended. Real policies and beliefs are taken to horrifying extremes. I won't go into any details, but it, like Trump, boldly goes into Adults Only underground comix territory.

Too bad he has no shame and is immune to satire!

On the other side, the Peoples seems to be based on conservatives fear and believe about liberals. It consists of the “Left Coast,” separated from the Enterprises by a force field technology and connected to a drug-induced We Are All One philosophy. Would Elon Musk, Larry Page, and Eric Snowden buy into what is essentially a mind-control cult?

If Greenburg is making a point about polarization and the dangers of cult-thinking--Trump’s appeal is that of a cult leader--it’s so subtle I missed it, and there isn't that much subtlety in this novel. 

I’m reminded of hippy-dippy naiveté circa 1969: “Like, wow, man, if we could just slip Nixon some acid, he’d see the light, and bring the troops back from ‘Nam, y’know?” I’m pretty sure that Hunter Thompson, William Burroughs, Abbie Hoffman, and even Timothy Leary would have laughed.

But I’m not sure if Greenburg is going for laughs here. His publisher is called Informing to Empower Media, which is straight out of the novel. Could it all be a “things go better with ayahuasca” commercial?

No matter. It's fucking bizarre. So much so that it manages be stranger than the latest headlines, which is quite an accomplishment.

I just hope that in a few years, we’ll be laughing at how outrageous it is, rather than being amazed over its accurate predictions. 

. . . I wrote the above before the midterms, and headlines are getting even stranger. There's a whole lot of meltdown and disintegration going on. My laughter gets even more sicko.

CHICANONAUTICA JUDGES EXTRA-FICTION AND BEYOND

Chicanonautica is about my judging the Somos en escrito Extra-Fiction writing contest, over at La Bloga.

Latinoids always bring something extra to their writing:

Because we come from different cultures:

But now, it's different:

And we've become the future:

EXTRA-FICTION WINNERS ANNOUNCED FOR DEAD DAZE

Happy Halloween, or as some like to spell it, Jalogüin, the day before the Days of the Dead/Días de los, Muertos. Put 'em together and you get Dead Daze (see Smoking Mirror Blues), the three-day rasquache/recombcultural holiday (holidaze?) of the future.

And not only do we have some celebration in order, but the winners I've picked for the Extra-Fiction Writing Contest 2018 have been announced over at Somos en escrito. Click and check it out.

Meanwhile, dress up and party, remember your dead loved ones, and give my regards to Tezcatlipoca.

CHICANONAUTICA SPYS ERNESTO ART IN SAN ANTO

Chicanonatica, at La Bloga, tells of Ernesto art in San Antonio.

In Monarchs: Brown and Native Contemporary Artists in the Path of the Butterfly.

What is the path of the Butterfly?

What do Native Americans have to say?

And what about Chicanos?

And is our future a thing of the past?

CONJUGATING HINDI IN A BRAVE NEW WORLD

Sometimes I think Ishmael Reed is the only person paying attention to what is really going on. His new novel, Conjugating Hindi, a satire of the world during the Trump--I mean, Kleiner Führer administration, is dead-on hilarious and scary as all hell. Does the job that science fiction should do, but usually fails at.

And what is that job? Why, it's taking a look at current changes, giving us clues to where it’s going and what to do about it. (Yeah, some people say that’s more speculative fiction than, sci-fi, but who goes to a bookstore looking for spec fic?)

This one is right on the cutting edge, set in 2017, now the sudden past; it’s almost a new kind of journalism, beyond gonzo, which is so Twentieth Century. This makes it an alternative universe, one that defines the present, and lays the foundations for the future.

We also get historic and myth figures appearing in dreams. Magic realism, if you will.

As it says on the back cover blurb, this is Reed’s

“global novel. One that crosses all borders.”

Global. As in the whole planet. Not just the cultural ghetto skewed to a New York/Washington D.C. axis that kicks and screams when it becomes obsolete.

Delusions like that don’t die easily. But then that’s the point of most of Ishmael Reed’s work.

Sometimes it seems like wild fantasy, but the outrageous things that happen in Conjugating Hindi’s war with India have already happened in other wars. If you think the news is fake, what about history? What are we doomed to repeat?

Here emerging conflicts are brought to light, along with the fact that the answer is for people who disagree to come together, talk, argue, even fight, as they struggle to figure it out.

Afrofuturists take note, buy, and read. And even though I’ve said it before: Afrofuturism is just a reboot of Reed’s NeoHooDooism.

We need this sort of thing to survive the world that Kleiner Führer--I mean Trump--is making.

CHICANONAUTICA ATTACKED BY MUTATING STEREOTYPES

The latest Chicanonatuica  is about stereotypes, over at La Bloga.

We know them well:

They are used to sell products:

But things change when cultures collide:

And what kind of future are we in for?