DISPATCHES FROM THE LAST DANGEROUS VISIONS: A PERSONAL INTRODUCTION

Dangerous Visions (I’m including Again, Dangerous Visions) changed my life. Thank you, Harlan. Now that The Last Dangerous Visions is upon us, I need to say some things. Not just a few. This is going to be a Mondo Ernesto series. This first episode is another how the first two books affected me.

In the early Seventies, I was entering high school, and trying to figure out what to do with myself. I seemed to be a budding cartoonist. A documentary about Ray Bradbury made me think I could be a science fiction writer. Discovering that a science fiction magazine was being published a block and a half from where I lived only encouraged me and introduced me to fandom. Then I found Harlan’s (he called me on the phone a few times, so I think I can get away with the informality) The Beast That Shouted Love At the Heart of the World at the local public library.

I couldn’t get enough. Soon I was reading The Glass Teat column in the library L.A. Free Press and everything else of his I could get my hands on. 

I bought the paperback of Dangerous Visions at a signing at Change of Hobbit. I bought Again, Dangerous Visions at LACon, the 1972 WorldCon. The books, the stories, the introductions sent my life on a different path. Before, I was a shy, quiet kid who just wanted to hide in a room somewhere putting his fantasies on paper. Suddenly I realized this crazy world was full of all kinds of possibilities that I have never dreamed of. Yeah, I could be a writer, an artist, a “creative” (I hate that pretentious term) and, more importantly, live an amazing life. I could take on . . . everything.

In my senior year, I carried my autographed copy of A, DV to all my classes, often forcing fellow students to read selected passages, taking particular delight in the reactions of sweet girls who were shocked to discover that there were more things on heaven and earth than their West Covina upbringing—albeit augmented by pot and acid—had prepared them for. Aesthetic terrorism became a way of life for me. And it still is.

I waited for The Last Dangerous Visions, and eventually gave up hope and got distracted–my life did go on . . .

Now, with much thanks to J. Michael Straczynski, a version of it is finally here. I approach it with feelings of twisted nostalgia (it really has been a long, strange trip, my g-generation), and confused expectations. I will not rush through it. A book like this is a construction of many parts, all of which must be taken into consideration. And even deranged times such as these–who am I kidding?--especially in these deranged times, we need dangerous visions to knock us out of the cozy ruts we’ve settled into, because we need to be ready to deal with the Next Great Disruption that lurks just around the corner.  

Instead of one review, I’m doing a series. It will take a while. I will be interrupted and distracted, but it'll be a wild, weird ride.

 

CHICANONAUTICA FOR A CHICANO SCIFIISTIA IN 2025

The new year is pretty sci-fi so far, in Chicanonautica, at La Bloga:

What are these things in the sky?

Invasions?

Is it all reality TV?

It’ll be like this, only not as rational . . .

¡HOLA, 2025!

 

After I get back from my SoCal trip for my mom's 90th birthday day, Emily and I will be going off on our annual, belated anniversary jaunt—it’s our 35th!—to get away from all the New Year’s fireworks. I’m not being metaphorical, it sounds like a war zone, and smells like one for days after.

So, this is going to be a disjointed assemblage of statements about entering 2025, illustrated with random SoCal photos.

Not that I’m trying to be some kinda avant-garde, but if the soleless shoe fits . .  . Besides, things I do just come out that way. I can’t help it, and there’s no known cure, so please give to the Save Ernest Hogan Fund.

And doesn’t 2025 sound sci-fi as all hell? One of the advantages of being an aging sf (that’s what we called it back in my day when the troops were in Nam and Nixon was the president) fan is that the news keeps sounding like a collaboration between Philip K. Dick, the Firesign Theater, J.G. Ballard, and William S. Burroughs that Harlan Ellison would have been afraid to put in The Last Dangerous Visions. It freaks a lot of folks out, but I find it entertaining.

Speaking of The Last Dangerous Visions, I got me a copy. I plan on reading it slowly and sending out dispatches as I go. Stay tuned.

I started work on my “Once Upon a Time in a Mass Deportation” story but decided to put it on hold for a while. I could easily finish it now, but the way things are developing—Iike all these mysterious drones all over the country--I feel I should wait, take notes, watch some Jodorowsky, Buñuel, and Godard,and get ready to turn my imagination loose like a bull into the ring.

We don’t need neat little stories that are easy to follow, from a safe distance. We need savage brutes so we can jump on their backs, hang on for dear life, and see what bizarre territory they take us to. Give us wild rides, or nothing at all!

I just agreed to do more Palabras del Pueblo classes and will be sending my unpublished stories out to try to get them published and make more money.

All while trying to find time to amuse myself. I need to stay amused. And my tastes are unconventional.

Good thing all I’ll have to do is look out the window to see all kinds of weird shit going down.

Some of it will be on fire. Hope none lands on me. But you can never be sure about these things.

And I refuse to be depressed!

CHICANONAUTICA RANTS AT THE END OF 2024

 

Read it in Chicanonautica, at La Bloga:

I’ll be in SoCal, where I was born:

It wasn’t like Nostradamus said:

Is there some kind of renaissance going on?

What changes are going on?

FORGET DICKENS, RE-READ ELLISON!

 

Harlan Ellison’s “Santa Claus Vs. S.P.I.D.E.R.” kept coming up on my social media (who sez it doesn’t do any good?) It was always one of my favorites, so I re-read it. Ahhhh! Just what the doctor ordered and in these troubled times.

For those of you who never read the story, Santa Claus is not just himself, but a James Bondian secret agent. S.P.I.D.E.R. is an evil organization that has taken control of some high-ranking U.S. government officials circa 1968. It’s outrageous, wildly imaginative, and hilarious. 

It’s also the sort of thing I’d like to recommend to people born post-Star Wars who think all his work is depressing and don’t understand how he became a big deal. For me, it’s Harlan at his best, having fun throwing words and ideas around, and targeting those who drive him into his legendary rages. Depressing stories win awards—they’re considered more “literary”—but he could be funnier than Douglas Adams and more gonzo than Hunter S. Thompson in his manic mood.

My idea of a great read.

Dare I suggest a new tradition? Instead of dragging out Charles Dickens’ “A Christmas Carol” re-read “Santa Claus Vs. S.P.I.D.E.R.” It's more in keeping with the way the world is going.

It would be fun to read it aloud.

I’d also like to see adaptations, graphic novels, animated holiday specials, movies!

Sure, the actual politicians skewered are now forgotten (some of you reading this have probably never heard of Richard Nixon), but now they come off as amusing grotesques. If any kids are curious, that’s why Quetzalcoatl gave Google.

Also, even though Harlan may have objected, it would be fun to replace the Forgotten Ones with modern equivalents. Who is the 21st century Ronald Reagan? Lyndon Jonson? George Wallace? 

I’ve found that with satire, these things don’t get old. All you have to do is change the names to expose the guilty. What goes around comes around, unfortunately.

Meanwhile, make merry while you can!

What if in a few decades, people think of Ellison rather than Dickens?

 

CHICANONAUTICA SEZ “JOAQUIN . . . JOAQUIN . . . DO YOU READ?

Chicanonautica, over at La Bloga, reviews Scott Russell Duncan’s Old California Strikes Back.

What is Old California?

Who is Joaquin?

What's with this Zorro guy?

Where is it all going?

MY DIABOLICAL PLANS FOR 2025

“MOOHOOHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

This calls for a mad scientist chortle. I’m getting ready for the new year.

And what a new year:

First, I’m not going to let the returning president get me down.  I’ve got better things to do. 

Next, I’m going to get more aggressive about finding a publisher for my novel, Zyx; Or, Bring Me the Brain of Victor Theremin. I’m rethinking everything about it, taking that bizarre state of what passes for civilization these days into account. Expect me to rant at length about this later.

Then, there’s the growing pile of short fiction that I’ve created over the last few years . . .

So far this century, most of my sales have been the result of editors coming to me, and I sell about the same amount as I did when I was beating myself up submitting everywhere and racking up rejections. These stories are not being read and that makes me feel bad, so I’m going back to the grind again. I’ll be surveying the market, and submitting regularly. I’ll report on what happens.

Also, l’m once again resolving to draw more. Gotta keep those chops. Who knows, I may need some illustrations, or graffiti, or something. And like I’ve said before it does good things to my brain.

I’m going to need my brain in top condition. There’s going to be some ugly shit happening in the next four years. 

Strange things are growing in my gray matter already. Monsters are bubbling up out of my id. I’ve got to let them out or my head will explode.

I hope to transform it all into art and literature.

I’m working on a new story—I should confess that I haven’t written any fiction since finishing my novel last year—and it’s called “Once Upon a Time in a Mass Deportation.” It’s got this smartass Chicano being interrogated by the National Guard, and things get . . . maybe a little more gonzo than magic realist. I’m using it for an example of how I do the voodoo that I do so well as part of an online writing workshop that’s part of a Latin@ Futurity class being taught at the University of Illinois Chicago.

These days, the Global Barrio extends to Chicago, and beyond. Sounds like sci-fi to some, but it’s my reality.

With a bit of luck, the students will be infected. Weird shit will start growing in their brains, and they will start committing acts of speculative fiction. And all this cultural mutation will be turned loose on the Trumptopia 2.0 . . .

“MOOHOOHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

I wanted to be a mad scientist when I was kid. It may happen yet.

Now, if only I had time to create a sarcastic filk song about it to the tune of In the Year 2525 . . .

 

CHICANONAUTICA SEES A GHOST OF GUAJOLOTE DAY PAST

In honor of linking you to a Thanksgiving column from a past decade, Chicanonautica, at La Bloga, proudly presents two of the most perverse cartoons about the controversial holiday.

Chuck Jones’ Daffy Duck and Tom Turk:

And Tex Avery’s Jerky Turkey:

Ahhh! There’s just something about cartoons where the characters are out to eat one another . . .

ONCE MORE INTO THE HOLIDAZE

It snuck up on me again, the time of year I like to call the Holidaze. It gets crazy, not just with all them holidays, but my personal birthday/anniversary logjam, the bizarre tendency of my career to wake up and demand attention while I’m trying to wrangle my way through our society’s obligations. I usually end up dazed at least.

I recently was on a Zoom panel to promote the upcoming

Chicanofuturism Now anthology. It will feature a "A Wild and Wooly Road Trip on Mars” in which Paco Cohen, interplanetary migrant mariachi, returns. Expect more acts of shameless self-promotion soon.

Soon (actually, the day before this goes online . . .) I’ll be Zooming again, presenting my ancient wisdom at a writing workshop at the Latin@ Futurity class being taught at the University of Chicago. My story, “Uno! Dos! One-Two! Tres! Cuatro!” has been assigned, so I’ll tell them how and why I did it.

You can read it in Guerrilla Mural of a Siren’s Song: 15 Gonzo Science Fiction Stories.

Speaking about my latest book, it got more social media attention, this time, in a “reel” on Instagram from Claudia Bolaños. Like Alli Dubin, she’s impressed by “Flying Under the Texas Radar with Paco and Los Freetails.”

Also, I’m happy to say that Somos en escrito’s Extra Fiction Contest will be happening this year, and yes, I’ll be picking the winners. And the deadline has been extended to November 31st. So, raza writers, if you have a story that you think will blow my mind, send away! I’m going to need some stimulating reading.

I’m gonna be busy. Now, if only I can get some kind of news on my new novel . . .