Chicanonautica: Grumbling in an Extreme Heat Warning

by Ernest Hogan

Another Extreme Heat Warning. There’s a joke going around that it will last until November. That’s life in the Phoenix Metro Area, the Valley of the Sun, where the Heat Island Effect goes wild in the summer.

It was117 degrees (Fahrenheit) the other day.

What’s the Father of Chicano Science Fiction to do? Más cerveza? Té helado? Agua?

Yeah. Water. Gotta stay hydrated. If you’re wondering if you’re dehydrated, you probably are.

I’m doing my best. Don’t want to be another body on sidewalks that you could fry eggs on.

The library where I work is also a Heat Relief  Center, so there’s plenty of water and the air-conditioning is killer.

Still, the purple sage is blooming, and my wife texted me a picture of a rattlesnake cooling off in the dark corners of her workplace.

 Photo by Emily Devenport

And the monsoon has brought tropical moisture from down Mexico way. Towering clouds bubble up and bring rain that completely evaporates in an hour. For a while the temperature drops into the 80s. Maybe I should dig out my jacket.

Life’s getting sci-fi. Chicano is a science fiction state of being. 

Got air-conditioning in your flying lowrider, ese?

Brains bake. Pedestrians go zombie-eyed. I feel more like chilling in a cool spot and watching some wacko cartoons and movies or maybe read. Right now I’m switching between the new Carlos Castaneda bio and Ishmael Reed’s Terribles books, but it’s hard to focus for long.

Maybe I'll do some Zen and the Art of Microwave Burritos. Got Spanish Style Rice, a Chicken Burrito Bowl, and Habanero Hot Sauce from Trader Joe’s, some Pace Picante Sauce, a can of  “traditional” refried beans, and some Lala’s Traditional Style Tortillas from Safeway. 

Then I can unwind, think about my unfinished Paco Cohen, Mariachi of Mars novel, check for news about the Xicanxfuturist front, think about what to teach in my "New, Improved, Ancient Chicano Sci-Fi Wisdom" class in October, not to mention what’s going down on the streets all across the land.

I’m feeling funny about sending any of my work out. Publishing is not doing great lately. I keep waiting for a sign of how the living hell things will go.

No news about the FBI investigation of shots fired at the Phoenix ICE office. The wars are getting hideous. The politics are insane. I keep having visions of weird shit, dreaming with my eyes open, sci-fi rasquache percolating.

Better watch out. I could come up with an idea for a story or novel or something . . .

Ernest Hogan is waiting for his novels to return to Amazon. Guerrilla Mural of a Siren’s Song is still available (I think--maybe I should check again). Tezcatlipoca help him.