Thursday, March 28, 2024



Maybe all Springs are going to be weird after 2020. Here in the Phoenix Metro Area it keeps warming up, delivering beautiful, sunny but mild days, then we get more rain, cooling, then it warms up again. 

Also I keep expecting something to happen, something big, and scary. Still haunted by that bizarre day I showed up for work, and two supervisors in masks were at the door, making sure they had my correct phone number, and telling me to wait for further instructions.

Besides, by the time you read this, I’ll be in the middle of my “Gonzo Science Fiction, Chicano Style” class, trying to write a story to demonstrate how I do the voodoo that I do, exposing my creative process for examination. Which will be strange because I don’t think much about it—I just do it. I never tried to be gonzo, but looking at it, it does make a handy label to put on it.

I’ve already come up with an idea. I tried not to, but all this stuff is bombarding me, bubbling over in the back of my brain . . .

It’s inspired by the election. Sorry, I couldn’t help it.

The truth is, I don’t have as much control over this as I would like to believe.

Now, some students will know, and tomorrow, the world . . .

And me, naked before it all.

We are all naked under our clothes. We are all skeletons under the skin.

It’s what I get for agreeing to play teacher. Me, one of those kids who never liked school.

Maybe I’m more of a mentor than a teacher, but then labels come and go.

It’s not up to me to explain this. I’m the phenomenon, not an observer.

And it’s another gorgeous day with a blue sky peaking through fantastic cloudscapes. For now. Meanwhile, the news is full of hellscapes worthy of Hieronymus Bosch. Have a nice day anyway.

Friday, March 22, 2024




Chicanonautica unearths a lost movie about Mayan culture, at La Bloga:

It's The Living Idol:

From the director of The Picture of Dorian Gray:

And the director of Night of the Bloody Apes:

Starring the Jaguar God himself:

Thursday, March 14, 2024


If Emily and I don’t go on a road trip every once and a while, we get cranky. We just did one up to Sedona, through Jerome, and back through Prescott. We discovered a great restaurant, a fantastic beer, and a kick-butt hot sauce, among other things. And took a lot of pictures. 

I could show them in order with a blow-by-blow record of it all, but that can get boring. It’s the mistake most people make when doing travelogues.

What I’m doing here is mixing it up, writing some sideways thoughts, and putting it all together like a surrealist collage.

Surrealism is a hundred years old. Journalists use the word to describe current events. Pay attention, mon amis, Le Revoluçión has just begun. Muhuhahahahahaha!

I love when a road trip is like exploring a surrealistic landscape. Arizona is good for that. I learned that from Mexico—it makes Salvador Dalí look like an amateur.

It can also get stark, raving sci-fi. Futurism new and old, Pre- and Post-Apocalypse scenes, impressions of intergalactic, transdimensional, and time travel.

Guess it helps to have a killer imagination.

And no drugs are needed for these kind of trips.

Like when we end up in one of those shopping centers that keep popping up along the highways that crisscross the wide open spaces. Install all the usual corporate franchises and the suburban sprawl will grow around it like a cancer.

This is probably how it’ll happen on Mars. Monstrous, sharp-toothed machines will be sent in advance, chew up the real estate, and shit out printed stores, restaurants, and parking lots. They will also build robots, who will welcome and provide customer service to the first astronauts who will argue over which fast-food joint should host their press conference.

How long before the robots will look at the humans, and ask, “What do we need them for?”

Within a generation, young “natives” will be dying of boredom, lusting after something to consume that will make them feel alive.

Meanwhile, others will be going on cosmic road trips, keeping their eyes out for the weird.

Thursday, March 7, 2024


Chicanonautica reports from Sedona and Prescott, over at La Bloga.

Post-New Age shop-a-rama:

Southwestern Art Deco splendor:

Political theater:

Is it the medium or the message?