SELF-PORTRAIT AS AN ARTIST/ADDICT

Once upon a time, I defined myself as an artist. I was young, and full of crazy ideals.

Later, after thrashing around with the real world, I found myself thinking, “I used to be an artist.”

Recently, Marty Halpern suggested I inquire about using Ron Walotsky's cover painting for the original Tor edition of Cortez on Jupiter for the ebook. It's a wonderful painting -- if I had the money to throw around, I wouldn't mind owning it. Some of my hand-lettering would look nice over it . . .

But – it would be the perfect cover if I was marketing it to folks who felt nostalgic about the good old days when the novel first came out. Are there many folks like that out there? Did I want to limit my sales to a subgroup of aging literary science fiction fandom?

Also, how would that detailed image look shrunk down to thumbnail size, the way people browsing for ebooks would encounter it?

And, I was – and still am, at the moment – in this room that is filling up with sketches I've been doing for the Cortez on Jupiter ebook cover. Nothing definite yet. Experiments.

See? Present me with a situation, and I turn into an artist. I can't help it. It's an addiction.

I never got along with whole fine art business. Those kind of artists, and the whole gallery thing, make me uncomfortable. Who buys fine art anyway? I don't know anybody who buys paintings on a regular basis.

My sensibility is somewhere between a cartoonist and a bullfighter. Yeah, there's this surrealistic thing going there, left over from the hunter/gather instincts to make ritual images to attract the animals for us to kill and eat so the tribe will survive.

It sure does translate into strange business when you do it in the Twenty-First Century, and plug it into the brave new media . . .

So, I may never make my living as an artist, but leave me to my business, and I'll end up making some kind of art. I can't help it. It makes my life complicated, interesting.

It may eventually kill me, but it's not boring.

On the upside: being an artist, I don't have to hire one. Not being a “real professional,” I can easily afford me.

And I do like my own work.

So, as I go about my humble day job, in my brain there's all these images, and strategies for constructing them on paper and computer, flashing like a psychedelic light show . . . letters that look like flying liquid . . . the Great Red Spot as an abstract expressionist/graffiti/gonzo icon . . . cool colors burning through hot . . .

I gotta do something that Pablo Cortez will be proud of. I gotta.

It's an addiction.

CHICANONAUTICA CELEBRATES BULLFIGHTING

I confess my love of bullfighting in my latest Chicanonautica over at La Bloga.

This was bit of a problem when it came to coming up with extras to offer here at Mondo Ernesto -- seeing that a lot of you out there are sensitive artistic and literary types who get disturbed by videos of actual bullfights. Luckily, over the decades, animators have recognized tauromaquia's cinegenic qualities. So here's three wonderful bullfighting cartoons:

First, we give some time to the "anti" viewpoint from everyone's favorite two-fisted vegetarian:

Next an example of high weirdness from the twisted mind of Tex Avery:

And finally, a masterpiece of the ridiculous and the sublime (often simultaneously) by the immortal Chuck Jones:

ONCE UPON A TIME IN MEXICO CITY . . .

Household archaeology unearthed a box of art from our overloaded, walk-in closet. There was also an old sketchbook in it, with an interesting first page:

I don't know what day it is. Me & Em are in love, in Mexico City – that futuristic metropolis built on ancient foundations that exhales magic realism in its smog: A fire-eater entertains motorists at a busy intersection . . . live, if seemingly zombified rattlesnakes are part of a street-show for “natural healing”. . . across the street from our hotel a show of fantastic artists appears overnight . . . a painted vampire seals a a broken window . . . and then, across the street from Las Galaxias (a strip joint) is the incredible Hotel Ixtaban, a facade without a building, decorated with nude goddess statues, no signs of life, but at night the sputtering neon sign somehow goes on . . .

Later, I would go on to write Cortez on Jupiter, High Aztech, and Smoking Mirror Blues. I also married Em. People ask why I'm smiling.

FRANKENSTEIN PENIS TO BE REPRINTED

"The Frankenstein Penis," the most infamous of my short stories, the subject of unauthorized translations, reprints, and two student films is going to be reprinted. And it's a real deal this time: I signed a contract, and they're going to give me some real American money.

So look out for the anthology The Love that Never Dies: Undead Erotica edited by M. Christian. Watch this blog for the details . . .

CHICANONAUTICA REMEMBERS LEONORA

Over at La Bloga, I pay tribute to Leonora Carrington in my latest Chicanonautica. Here at Mondo Ernesto, I'm offering up extras about some associated artists:

Leonora had an important relationship with one of my favorite surrealists, Max Ernst:

And how can talk about female artist connected with Mexico, with mentioning Frida Kahlo?

Once we've mentioned Frida, we've got to bring up Diego Rivera:

And last, but by no means least, Leonora's good friend, Remedios Varo:

BEYOND BORDERS: BACK TO THE LIBRARY

Forget about the Senior Prom, go to the library and educate yourself if you've got any guts.

Frank Zappa

I hadn't been in a library since I started working for Borders back in 2000. Full-timing it there was like being held hostage. It's amazing that I did all the writing and drawing, and that I published all that stuff during that time. Libraries have changed in the New Millennium – computers and Wi-Fi for the public, lots of DVDs, CDs, audiobooks.

As a page, my time is divided between wrangling books in the back room, checking them in, packing them for shipping to other libraries, pushing around carts of books to shelve, and picking them up from reading tables. We find out what people want, then use computers, lasers, and the laying on of hands to connect customers with the object of their desire.

So much better than trying to work the "make titles" that Borders wanted us to push into every conversation with a customer, so we could meet the quota Corporate had decreed.

I spent three days a week for 10 years educating myself in the public library, and it's better than college.

Ray Bradbury

I did my own version of Ray Bradbury's self-education through the library. During the Great Recession back in the Nineteen-Seventies, it just made more sense to me than running up humungous Student Loan debt getting a degree that would qualify me to be an administrator or a bureaucrat, when I wanted to be a writer/artist/adventurer.

And I became a writer/artist/adventurer.

Yeah, I'm not rich, but not many people do become rich doing the crazy stuff I do. And there are a lot of rich people our there who aren't as happy as I am. I need to work part-time at a library, but now I have more time to do what I love to do.

And work on making this madness pay.

The America I loved still exists at the front desks of our public libraries.

Kurt Vonnegut

The library isn't just a great place to work, it's a great place to be. As I do the work, I'm walking around, eyebrow deep in serendipity. I can't help but be inspired.

All kinds of cultural artifacts pass in front of my eyes and through my hands. My brain gets titillated through the work day. And I discover new things I wouldn't have otherwise run across.

Then there's the people; they're working on something, be it getting a job or trying to overthrow the government, the homeless with laptops, girls with scarifications or headscarfs, men in kilts and sarongs, those people who need constant entertainment, and folks who are looking for something.

The library is a great place to look for things, even in the age of the Internet. You see, kids, believe it or not, there is a helluvalota stuff in this universe that isn't just a Google search away. I know, I've spent most of my life looking for more information on things that the usual, handy sources don't know diddlely about. I kept asking teachers about things that they knew nothing about, and eventually I realized that if I wanted to satisfy my curiosity, I was on my own.

I've found that the library is a good place to search, especially after you can't find something online. You may find that there isn't much in the library either, but that means you'll have to go off on a quest, keeping your eyes wide open in the wild, real world. It may take you years, decades -- hell, you may never find what you're looking for, but your life will be interesting.

And that's the way I plan to keep on enjoying myself.

A REPORT FROM ANOTHER NEW FRONTIER

I'm experiencing time dilation. The last few months seems like years. And now, here I am, in a new world and a new job, with new situations coming at me. Once again I'm crossing another border, entering a new frontier.

When I was young, I wanted to be an explorer. Some diabolical gods granted my wish.

So now I'm in a rush to learn how to make a book into an ebook. With “Guerrilla Mural of A Siren's Song” coming out in Marty Halpern's Alien Contact in November, the time is ripe for Cortez on Jupiter to be released in the new format. Unfortunately, it's from my antediluvian (I wrote it back in the late Eighties), pre-computer days – I have to scan it, then go over it to correct all the glitches caused by the OCR process. Then there's getting it formatted . . .

Also, I'd like to put in some images. Another crash course I need to take.

There's also some other deals pending, but I won't talk about them yet. I'm kind of superstitious about such things.

If this sounds like I'm complaining, I'm not. This is all making me happy. I'm merrily going over Cortez on Jupiter with Miles Davis' On the Corner (pure sonic science fiction) blasting through the house. The ravings of Pablo Cortez are inspiring me, as if I didn't write them – and making me feel twenty years younger.

I'm experiencing what are either delusions of grandeur, or a boost to my self-confidence.

If I can get Cortez on Jupiter ready as an ebook in the next few months, then why not shoot for doing Smoking Mirror Blues (which is already a computer file), in time for Día de los Muertos? And then I can scan High Aztech and have it ready for 2012, the end of the Mayan Calendar and the beginning of a new world.

Yeah, I really think I can do this. I feel good, and good things are happening -- like the other day, Emily was cleaning out a closet and found a box full of my artwork that I had either forgotten about, or thought I had lost.

Some of them are on this post.

There were also some Cortez on Jupiter drawings in that box.

Think I need thank some diabolical gods. And make some sacrifices . . .

CHICANONAUTICA GOES TO MARS (WITH MARIACHIS)

Is anybody surprised that I devoted the latest Chicanonautica at La Bloga to “Death and Dancing in New Las Vegas” appearing in Analog? I also discuss where Paco Cohen and the NeoMartians idea came from. Crazy ideas. They are out there.

So, here’s some extras that show the sort of stuff that influenced me in writing these stories:

First, Lola Beltran doing a classic that was a big favorite with mi familia, even though ever since they played it at my grandmother’s funeral, it makes me cry:

Getting away from the traditional into roque ‘n’ roll with Lalo Guerrero y Los Lobos:

Then there’s the mad dream of Wild West sci-fi:

And this sweet countercultural/utopian vision from a more innocent time kept running through my head:

Lastly, my Mars is in part inspired by the dystopian California where I grew up, that Frank Zappa captured so well:

SNEEK PREVIEW OF “DEATH AND DANCING IN NEW LAS VEGAS”

In case you haven't heard, I have a story in the July/August 2011 issue of Analog Science Fiction and Fact. It's a special double issue, so you get my story and a lot more for your hard-earned $7.99. And to further drive the point home, here's the beginning:

Everyone else slept while I dove the Rolling Serpent along the Tharsis Highway, where it runs parallel to the steaming Marineris Canal, through the pre-dawn darkness toward the distant lights of New Las Vegas. Then a black bug kamikaze'd right between my eyes. I blinked hard, expecting it to splatter against the windshield. But no, that didn't happen.

The insect stopped just short of impact, hovered, flying backwards, staring me down.

It seemed be what we call, back in the varrios, a ninja bug. I had thought that they were a NeoMartian folktale. I had even written a song about them:

If the corpos don't like you

They'd send ninja bugs at you

So don't go boo-hoo-hoo

Be a nice little you

And there it was, the black bug with the red glowing eyes.

That's from “Death and Dancing in New Las Vegas.”

Even though it's a sequel to “The Rise and Fall of Paco Cohen and Mariachis of Mars,” I wrote it so it could read on its own. But if you're at all curious, the first story is available as a podcast.

And there are more Paco Cohen/NeoMartian stories growing in my brain . . .

CHICANONAUTICA RECONSIDERS LA LLORONA

That's right, now that it's getting warm and water tempts the children of Aztlán, in Chicanonautica over at La Bloga, I'm once again haunted by La Llorona. Here are some video extras:

I mentioned La Venganza de La Llorona, starring Santo and Mantequilla Nápoles. It's one of the more interesting and unusual Santo movies, which (in that series of films) is saying something. Here's an exciting scene:

The expansion of La Llorona's territory is another concern. Here's documentation of her making inroads into Hollywood via Universal Studios:

There's still no sign, except for mentions on a couple of sites, of the La Llorona Verizon commercial. A conspiracy theory may be in order. Meanwhile, here's another Verizon commercial – NOT the one I remember with the “Can You Hear Me Now” guys – but also in the scary Mexican woman vein:

Down in Mexico, in Xochimilco, they do an Aztecan version of the story:

Back on the Americano side of the border, the tradition rides in the family car: