The animal rights protests, again, were a suitable preface. More like an opening ceremony than ever. Could be another outtake from a surrealistic, sadomasochist, spaghetti western. Naked bodies splashed with fake blood. And the Virgin Mary. Sets the mood.
The bulls are extra rambunctious this year. Runners fall before they come near. They plow through the crowded street, charge the spectators. They seem to have caught the psychological virus that has been warping human behavior this year.
I could say that I watch these things because I’m researching my science fiction bullfighting novel (the world doesn’t want it, so it’s probably just what it needs . . .) but I admit I’m obsessed with the running of the bulls at the fiesta of San Fermín in Pamplona, Spain, is not for the macho posturing, but the chance to see people facing fear. Any frame of a video of an encierro is loaded with drama. Not just around the bulls, with human bodies close to hooves and horns, but around the edges.
People dressed to run are often frozen with fright, clinging to a wall, faces twisted, others on the ground, twitching in fetal position.
This is why, like bullfighting–the mother of all art forms, dating back to the Neanderthal rodeos–is more a sacred ritual than sport as recognized by Western Civilization. If we lose these traditions, we will lose an important part of what it is to be human.
Transhumanists be damned. We need to go wild in the streets.
Speaking of wild in the streets, I watched the 1968 movie by that title again–such things help me keep a perspective in time of political turmoil. I see it differently now that I am older and our situation is more desperate. Funny how people will give a charismatic figure with an appealing message power. Wonder if Trump ever saw it?
Has anyone else noticed that the “don’t trust anyone over 30” attitude has come back among youngsters in the last couple of decades? Some people wouldn’t mind being put in a “retirement” camp with free drugs. What is utopia to some is dystopia to others.
Meanwhile, a fascist state is being built around us. What ICE is doing is becoming more than political performance art with occasional casualties. We are going to have to face our fears, in the streets, maybe even our homes.
We’ll see what we’ll all be doing when it comes to our towns. It’ll be like the monster movies I grew up on, with crowds trampling each other while rushing to escape the giant insects and/or reptiles. Will we run, drop to the pavement in terror, or even fight? Is sci-fi far-out enough to prepare us?
Que sera, sera, as the old song goes. There are more encierros, I’ll be watching them first thing in the morning until the last day.
And then . . . the future!
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