CHICANONAUTICA GOES LIVE AT THE SFF LATINX BUNDLE

Chicanonautica promotes the SFF Latinx Bundle, over at La Bloga.

Strange Tales of Science Fiction is evoked:

In the name of Latinx science fiction:

. . . and fantasy:

Because you never know where the Latinoid imagination will take you:

HIGH AZTECH IN THE SFF LATINX BUNDLE

High Aztech is now available as part of The SFF Latinx Bundle!

Some of you may have some questions:

What's SFF? It stands for Science Fiction and Fantasy. Way back when I was a teenage fan we used the abbreviation sf, and kept it lowercase, so people didn't think you were talking about San Francisco.

What's Latinx? Latino, only trying to reach beyond Español o/a gender thing.

What's a bundle? As in Story Bundle. For of $15 you can get eleven ebooks. Not just High Aztech, but ten other Latinx SFF books! A great way to catch up on some of the Latinoid sf/fantasy out there.

For a limited time only! Get it now!

I'll be writing more about this in Chicnaonautica at La Bloga, soon!

CHICANONAUTICA WRITES A LETTER TO 1969

Chicanonautica writes a letter to 1969, over at La Bloga.

It was the year of the first moon landing:

And Woodstock:

"Normal" life went on:

And some things got extreme:

DOODLING, DRAWING, AND NOODLING

I'm an artist as well as a writer. Maybe I'm more an artist than a writer. I'm more visually oriented than verbal. When I write, I set out to put images in the reader’s mind.

For some reason I can't fathom, I've been drawing less in recent years. Maybe it's because I’ve had more success with writing than art. Maybe it's that I keep getting distracted by all kinds of stuff lately. Maybe I'm getting lazy in my old age.

Since it's a new year that is already getting weirder than the last, and I've decided to make a heroic effort of finishing Zyx, Or; Bring Me the Brain of Victor Theremin before 2020 gets here, I've also decided to make a point of purposely drawing more this year.

And it's already producing results.

I've revived my old habit of doing quick, semi-abstract/surrealistic sketches as a warm-up for creative work. Noodling around helps get the juices flowing.

I’ve also been dusting off the drawing board, and working on my long overdue project for Claude Lalumiere's Avatars of Adventure, the Aztec Eagle.

Another old habit of mine that I'm diving back into is doodling. I used to do it all the time in school--it kept me from dying of boredom. These days I use a notebook (not to be confused with my sketchbooks) to keep track of all my projects. 

Somewhere along the line I stopped the doodling. I’m not sure why. Maybe I was trying to be a professional or an adult or some other pretension.

I'm so glad I'm now too old for that grown-up nonsense.

The doodling may have helped me in school. I've heard that it helps you remember things. I'm not sure about that, but I know that drawing does good things for my brain. I feel better, and dealing with all the madness gets easier.

I haven't been doing enough of it, and I need to get back to it. This is because all creativity comes from noodling around with your brain, tossing around the images, words, ideas, whatever, to the music in your head.

Excuse me. I have some important noodling to do . . .

CHICANONAUTICA GETS SEDUCED AND HALLUCINATES TEX(T)-MEX

Chicanonautica reviews Tex(t)-Mex, over at La Bloga:

So, here's a touch of evil:

A look at Rita Hayworth's Latin roots:

What has Speedy been smoking?

And a Maoist report on the Frida Kahlo Barbie:

ERNESTOMANIA 2019

Once again, the new year begins like crash-landing on an unknown planet. Only this time there's all kinds of weird apocalyptic shit around the smoking crater. The natives are too busy figuring out their new realities to notice me crawling from the wreckage.

There are a lot of new realities in 2019 . . .

So, what do I do now? If it wasn't for all the holidayization of the calendar, I'd just keep on, head down, full speed ahead, but culture puts its rituals in the way, interrupting my program.

Think I'll make a public spectacle of finishing my novel, Zyx; or, Bring Me the Brain of Victor Theremin. I've been thrashing away at it for a few years, and it's finally taking shape in brain, which should have serious effects on my behavior. I could use a excuse, and it could be entertaining.

I also should sit down at my drawing board, and finish drawing that Aztec Eagle (a masked, Mexican wrestler) comic based on the script that Claude Lalumière wrote for his Avatars of Adventure project. It keeps getting derailed my writing career, and getting tripped up on technical aspects. I should just get down to doing some old-fashioned cartooning.

Also, I should stop letting the drawing board get dusty. I need to draw more, if just for the way it makes me feel.

There's also some unsold short fiction. They've all reached the point where they've been turned down by most markets, so I have to go hunting in the outer reaches to find homes for them. As if I didn't have enough to do. But how are people 

supposed to read them if they don't get published?

I also have a Pancho Villa's Flying Circus, story collection

that I should start working on . . .

Funny, how I'm never short on stuff to do.

Also, I need to expect the unexpected, and invite inspiration, which is basically, the way I lead my life. I come up with these crazy ideas, and that's why it's so disorganized. Or is it just organized in an eccentric manner?

Is it possible to be a writer and an artist, and be normal?

Meanwhile, new things rain down. While driving back from Sedona last week, Emily told me about a dream she had that would make a good fantasy novel. I made a few suggestions, and she asked, “Would you like like to write it with me?”

Just what I need, another project.

But I could not resist.

CHICANONAUTICA HIDES OUT IN SEDONA, THINKS ABOUT 2019

Chicanonautica goes to Sedona, over at La Bloga. 

It's a gorgeous place:

With weirdness:

But there's no escaping some things:

So have a nice 2019:

UNKNOWN WAR, WRITER TALES

Some Ed Wood fans will be disappointed with James Pontolillo's The Unknown War of Edward D. Wood, Jr. 1942–1946 because the myth of Battle Eddie, Fighting Transvestite, is debunked. The image/story of Wood as a U.S. Marine going into battle with a red (or was it pink?) bra and panties under his fatigues is too appealing to be true—always a clue that something is amiss. He changed the narrative to make a better story. That's what writers do. Even with our own life stories.

We have a lot in common with Walter Mitty, and Baron Munchausen. It is the nature of the beast.

After all didn't Harlan Ellison write a novella called All the Lies that Are My Life?

I'm actually amazed that people keep asking us to write our own bios. After a life of building a story-making machine in your head, it kicks in even when you aren't doing fiction. It's hard to resist your craft. And a little tinkering can make it better . . .

People keep saying I lead an interesting life. Maybe. It doesn't always seem that way when it's happening, but I know how to tell it to make it sound, well, like fiction.

All this doesn't mean that Unknown War isn't a fascinating read, and a valuable addition to the Ed Wood bookshelf. It fills the gaps in the story, and even makes it more interesting. Pontolillo used, and reproduces news clippings and Wood's medical and military records, and truths about the man, and World War Two, become self-evident.

All the mundane documentation. The military is good for that. They also documented Wood catching filariasis, that was cured before it caused elephantiasis, and his getting syphilis from a prostitute in California.

It turns out that Wood was clerk in the Marines, and never was in combat. Wars are mostly paperwork, or I suppose these days they'd say data entry. Office equipment is just as important as weaponry. Non-combat veterans tend to feel shame over their contributions, but they shouldn't. They did their part. They should be honored and thanked for it.

They also tend to tell tall tales about their service.

Actual combat vets don't, and it's hard to get them to tell their stories.

You can't actually blame guys like Wood for embellishing their experiences. He did lose his front teeth in the war, and saying it was the result of the rifle butt wielded by a Japanese soldier sounds better than the reality of getting injured during a ritual concerning his first crossing the Equator. And telling the Battle Eddie myth probably came in handy when people found out about his cross-dressing.

Also his hometown newspaper was cooperative in reporting fictitious combat experiences.

Besides, if you're going to make movies, write books, and become the Patron Saint of Creative Misfits—I imagine that by the end of this century, we will see a religion that worships Wood, along with Bela Lugosi, Tor Johnson, and Vampira—you can't just accept the ordinary, in your work or your life.

Or your story.

CHICANONAUTICA BUZZES THE CAMP OF RACSIM PORN

Chicanonautica reviews The Camp of the Saints, over at La Bloga.

It's Steve Bannon's favorite read:

Could it be influencing recent events?

Is it invasion?

Why?

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!