CHICANONAUTICA FORESHADOWS A RE-ENTRY

Chicanonautica looks for forward to coming back, at La Bloga.

I’m expecting to be shaken up:

Re-entry is hot stuff:

Like a Chicanonaut:

Getting high on future shock:

GHOSTS OF ROAD TRIPS PAST

I’m on a road trip with my wife Emily Devenport and her brother Michael Thiele.

These trips started as a tradition with their mother Margaret L. Davenport, so she could visit her beloved New Mexico.

In the last one, Mike joined us, and was inspired to take her (and us) on another trip.

He is a master of zigzag, zen traveling, and doesn’t mind changing direction and stopping if something interesting comes into view.

After Margaret went traveling in time and space, as she put it, we kept tripping in her honor.

It’s always inspiring. And a great way to investigate whither these here United States of America goest.

We always discover strange new worlds of different kinds.

I take along my sketchbook for notes and doodles.

And assembling them into travelogues that I post both on Mondo Ernesto and in Chicanonautica at La  Bloga.

 

It’s become more than a hobby.

Kinda a raison d'être.

And it’s a helluvalota fun.

CHICANONAUTICA GETS INTO AN ARIZONA BATTLEGROUND STATE OF MIND

Chicanonautica heats up over at La Bloga.

What record are we breaking now?

Who is allowed to vote?

Who’s eating what?

I just hope Project 2025 is too many fuehrers and not enough stormtroopers:

NALO’S NEW CONCOCTIONS

 

“They,” the people who run the publishing business, keep saying that no one cares about single author short story collections. I disagree. I love them. Guess I’m nobody.

 

I kinda understand when a degenerate like me does one and it gets ignored, but you’d think the world would stop and take notice when a SFWA grandmaster has one come out. Come on, folks, where’s the social media buzz? The cultural groundswell of excitement? The dancing in the streets?

We’ve still got some time before the release, so let me tell you about Jamaica Ginger and Other Concoctions by Nalo Hopkinson and how wonderful it is.

The fifteen stories—one co-written by Nisi Shawl—were all originally published in the 21st century and are prime examples of what is, and is becoming. And if you haven’t noticed, there’s been a whole lot of becoming going on. None of the usual cornball sci-fi is here. Nalo can’t help but be different, original. This book just had to be diverse. 

She’s Caribbean-Canadian, outside of the usual boundaries of traditional English-language science fiction that are centered around New York, and sometimes goes on field expeditions to far-off London. Both the fantastic worlds she imagined and real-world elements she uses are richly textured.

Rising sea levels creates a new world with, among other things, cyborg pigs. An alien life form crossed the line between living and dead. Stereotypes become real in an unexpected way. A cruise ship is hacked into a tool for decolonization. Queer love and relationships abound. No sign of the all-white future I grew up reading about.

She’s hip to what’s happening on the cutting edges of science and technology, but delivers far more than the usual hard-science take on things. The human element is always present. Sometimes things other than human. There is anger, but also optimism.

This volatile mix often steps out of the restrictions of the science fiction genre and becomes other kinds of storytelling. Some of these are more like folklore and fables, the literature you are more likely to overhear being told into a smart phone on public transportation and in performance art than in a book. Genres are just marketing gimmicks–we need to set our imaginations free to soar beyond the temporary, artificial cultural borders.

She is a true grandmaster. This collection of marvelous, delicious concoctions is a joy to read.

Those dopes who don’t like story collections don’t know what they’re missing.

 

CHICANONAUTICA CATCHES ERNESTO IN LATINOPIA, AGAIN

 

Ernesto is on Latinopia again, and you can see it via Chicanonautica, at La Bloga.

Thanks to Jesús Salvador Treviño:

Founder of Latinopia and much more:

Listen to me stutter:

All because I saw Forbidden Planet at an East L.A. drive-in:

AN ASTOUNDING AUGUST INTERLUDE

The bureaucracy gods granted us a day off together. It started raining as we pulled out of Kiss the Cook. It had clouded over in the night. Wasn’t quite as hot in Phoenix . . . yet.

It was significantly cooler up toward Flagstaff. At first, I was doubtful about Emily’s suggestion that I wear a long-sleeved shirt, but she was right. And I was soon rolling down those sleeves.

It was still raining when we got to Walnut Canyon. The trail down to the cliff dwellings was wet and slippery, but doable. We weren’t the only people there. It seemed light-years from superheated Phoenix.

The forest smelled great. There was no need to run the car’s air-conditioner.

Lots of datura bloomed at the roadsides.

We headed down to Sedona and had the world-class Cowboy Up Burgers at the Cowboy Club.

While walking around, we passed an enlightened ape with a peeling gold paint-job in front of a “wellness cafe.” What is a wellness cafe? Did the proprietors think the whole thing was as funny as I did?

As we left Sedona, an indigenous angel with floppy wings and a horned buffalo cap blessed us.

We visited the Highway 89 elephant on the way home.

We got into a couple of traffic jams, and Phoenix was blazing, but we were feeling great.

CHICANONAUTICA UPDATES A WEIRDO SUMMER

It’s in one weird place, heading for another in Chicanonatica, over at La Bloga.

How weird is it?

Heading for education:

And judgment:

In a brave, new world:

SLICES OF A SUMMER

My wife just said: "Holy crap, the black widow got a lizard!"

The final scene of my dream was a dystopia in clay animation.

The concrete islands in the asphalt desert next to the ruins are being colonized.

Do androids run with electric bulls?

Bats and dragonflies flit about as the sun sets.

Still free to have tacos on the 4^th of July.

“Here’s some duct tape if you need some,” she said before leaving for work.

The smoke came from a parked car, its hood up, and flames leaping from the engine.

Sometimes you have to stop and smell the sunset.

CHICANONAUTICA FACES SUDDEN CHANGES, GONZO STYLE

When the going suddenly changes Chicanonautica gets gonzo, over at La Bloga.

The changes keep coming:

More than we can handle:

Some folks think they have a final solution:

You just gotta laugh:

A SINISTER URGE

 

It’s hot. And surreal. And transmogrifying into grotesque.

 

Basically, I’m an artist—a cartoonist, if you want to get persnickety—passing for a writer. I start with images, then arrange the (“compose” of you pardon the pretension) them into stories. Nobody has ever noticed this, but it may be why some folks think I’m doing it all wrong.

I never could land a lucrative art/cartooning gig. It's amazing how people want you to knock yourself out making stuff for them, then weasel their way out of paying for it. Especially if your stuff ain’t pretty.

Still get the sinister urge to draw.

It’s coming a lot in this summer of grotesque spectacle. Some folks get horrified, I get inspired.

So, I’m making an effort to stop neglecting my sketchbook and cultivate my long-lost habit of compulsive, spontaneous cartooning. What the hell, I can always post it here and on the social media.

Could be fun. Heh-heh.

Are we grotesque enough yet?