by Ernest Hogan
Once again, we got a whole lotta transmogrification going on. And it’s not just the loco-in-chief in the White House. All kinds of changes are happening.
We’re talking way beyond future shock here. As if just being a humble Xicanxfuturist sciifista trying to survive in a world that never was sure about what it should do with me wasn’t enough.
I don’t know what to do with my new novel. Or all the short stories that weird circumstances keep squeezing out of me.
An abandoned shopping mall is undergoing a transformation into . . . What? A metaphor for a new world?
Things I experience keep sending my grotesquely overactive imagination off into bizarre tangents.
It’s better than any drug.
I don’t need AIs to hallucinate for me.
Who’da thought that hallucinating algorithms would be a thing?
Tezcatlipoca, Tezcatlipoca, do you read?
Is there a Mission Control?
What is the mission?
Just a Chicanonaut reporting in to . . .
Who? Us? Them? The entire universe?
So I keep going. I can’t help it. I can’t turn the monster in my brain off . . .
Besides, I believe that we need all this weird shit, now more than ever.
Sure, I feel like the guy in that meme with the world in flames, screaming, “Hey, anybody want to buy a book?” But it’s books, art, music . . . La Cultura! That gets us through this.
It’s not the cozy escapism that gives us the inspiration to do what we have to do to survive, it’s the rasquache kicks in the head that shatter the living nightmare and make better things possible.
Really.
So here I go.
This has been a pep talk from the Father of Chicano Science Fiction.
Ernest Hogan is feasting on the madness that surrounds him, getting ready to teach a class on what he does, so he has to analyze it, which leads to astounding revelations . . .
1 comment:
Eureka! You just may have helped me understand myself. Not in a science fiction way, but just that we have a unique perspective on our individual life, and the ones who are open minded enough to want in, are in for a ride of their life 🤗🤗🤗
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