Why Movies Don't Matter Anymore

The title of this post is an exaggeration, of course. Movies can still entertain, elucidate, educate. Independent flicks, documentaries, and a few serious movies move my butt into the theater, although the rising ticket prices require the draw to be topnotch. In fact, there are several "must-see" showings at the upcoming (November 3-14) Denver Film Festival - and that's what we expect from a major festival in its thirty-third year with more than 200 films scheduled, including a healthy dose of cine Mexicano. But "just killin' an afternoon" at el mono doesn't cut it. Most of the time, I'd rather watch TV.

That thought is not original with me. Here are the lead sentences of a segment of an NPR show broadcast on October 16:

Critics have been decrying the creative decline of Hollywood pretty much since D.W. Griffith left the scene. But today's Hollywood is plenty creative, author Edward Jay Epstein says. It's just that the most sophisticated stuff is showing up on TV screens. "We've had a role reversal," Epstein tells NPR's Guy Raz. "Now, people go to television, especially pay television and premiere cable television, to watch programs like Mad Men and Boardwalk Empire and Damages. And they go to movies to see comic books: Spiderman, Batman, Superman, Avatar."

Epstein wrote The Hollywood Economist: The Hidden Financial Reality Behind the Movies (Melville House Publishing, 2010).



I couldn't agree more. I dig comic books, don't get me wrong, so more power to the directors willing to take on the next superhero melodrama (although, that run has to be about over, no? Oh wait - here comes The Green Lantern.)


But I switch on what used to be called the "boob tube" to check in with dynamite dramas like Breaking Bad, Rubicon, Mad Men, Terriers, Damages, Sons of Anarchy, or the sorely-missed The Wire; or off-the-wall comedies such as Bored to Death or Weeds. Can't say that there's a particular Latino show that holds my attention, but then, how many really good Latino movies have there been lately?


There were a few panels at the recent Latino Book & Family Festival that discussed the sorry plight of Latinos in Hollywood, and more than one author complained about the lack of interest by the movie-makers in producing high quality flicks based on Latino source material. Some of that was sour grapes, but a good portion of the talk and analysis exhibited frustrated push-back at a system that has always been slow to recognize Latinos for anything more than the stereotypes. The theme of the panels stayed with me and when I heard the NPR segment I put two and two together: Forget the movies. Why aren't there more TV shows based on Latino material?



The embarrassing (for Hollywood) example is Rudy Anaya's Bless Me, Ultima. I've heard that there have been a few attempts at turning the classic into a screenplay, with no apparent success. And I've seen an excellent play based on portions of the novel that ran several weeks in a Su Teatro production. But isn't it obvious that the story of Antonio and Ultima battling various negative forces in the llano of 1945 New Mexico would make a perfect miniseries? Think of the possible episodes: Antonio's rocky and violent transition from child to adolescent; family struggles because of the conflict between the urge to range free and the need to establish roots; supernatural battles with brujas and brujos; all against a backdrop of the changing national political scene as the US enters the nuclear age, disillusioned soldiers return from war, and old established traditions, including racism, are challenged by the modern age. The miniseries would have an abundance of detail from the era: clothes, music, slang, and attitudes. We would marvel at the ingenuity and precociousness of Antonio or the power and sensitivity of Ultima. The Land of Enchantment would enchant a worldwide audience. The colors, smells, traditions and serenity of northern New Mexico would overwhelm. The show would be called "one of the most beautiful television series ever produced." Raza would watch and say, "I remember my grandmother told me the same story."

Okay, maybe you want something a little more current? We have plenty to choose from, and I don't mean just the golden gems that deserve attention like the works of Rolando Hinojosa, Oscar Acosta, Américo Paredes, or Tomás Rivera. How about the novels of Luis Urrea, Reyna Grande, Alfredo Véa? Denise Chávez, Yxta Maya Murray, Kathleen Alcalá? Or if PBS wants good crime drama, there's no need to limit the offerings to rebroadcasts of something from England (but I admit that Prime Suspect was excellent.) We have the homegrown mysteries of writers like Lucha Corpi, Michael Nava, or Max Martínez waiting for the Masterpiece Theater treatment. I'm just throwing out names of writers whose books are particularly visual, but you fill in the blanks. The point is, we have the writers, the stories, and the books. There's no excuse for the disrespect.






But there is good news, and there may be a change in the air. Victor Villaseñor has announced that HBO will produce a seven-part miniseries based on Rain of Gold, Wild Steps of Heaven and Thirteen Senses. Filming starts in 2011 and the show should be on the air by 2012.

Let's hope it's done right, and that it works, not just for us, but for the segment of the general HBO audience that should be attracted to adult, quality drama with a universal story set against the cultural kaleidoscope of Mexicanos in the United States. And that this is only the beginning. All I can say is, "Ya es tiempo. About time."

Later.

Revisiting Finger Nail Shaped Moons

(A short narrative I shared sometime ago. Written while in grad school; it is a story I had the pleasure of sharing with a young man earlier this week. I told him to make sure he had a clear vision of his situation, that without a clear vision, your vision's not clear. At times we have to make adusjtments; kind of like a boxer that spends too much time getting hit during the first few rounds of a prize fight. If adjustments aren't made by the middle rounds, odds are the championship rounds never materialize. History doesn't always repeat itself.)

Finger Nail Shaped Moons

Why do we look at things the way we do? Is it due to the mothers and the fathers of our mothers and fathers and their wisdom? They made fun of mi jefe’s tacos wrapped in tin foil when he was a child. Could this be why, I am forever ready to toe the line? “Tienes que trabajar lo doble, para ser lo doble” my dad would say. “You’re going to have to work twice as hard to be two times the man.” He knew what was hiding behind words, and he knew of euphemisms, without knowing such a word existed.

Is it possible that my 3rd grade teacher belittled me because of the brown color of my skin? She knew I had a tough time with numbers because we told her; mom, dad, the 2^nd grade teacher, and me. It didn’t matter as she insisted I go to the chalkboard, day in and day out, up until the day I yelled something to the effect of “I can’t do this, I try, but I just can’t,” and concluded my tantrum by shattering a piece of chalk at the problem on the board.

She also found ways to make Jaime, Santos, and Jorge cry. Did influences such as these somehow lend a hand in Jaime’s death just a couple of years after fathering his first child, just a couple of years shy of twenty? How about Santos, who hung himself on the monkey-bars at Pearson Park, discovered by a jogger, there hovering like a masterpiece above his daughter’s name etched in sand. The detective mentioned it had been written with a branch, just before letting go of the ghost? I remember how Jorge would clench his fists until his overgrown nails indented fingernail shaped moons across the palms of his hands. It would be twenty-five years before they faded to black, to an overdose, in front of his mom, wife, and daughter. Eventually, we all find freedom. I have found my freedom with words.

THE SPIRIT OF A WOMAN- STORIES TO EMPOWER AND INSPIRE

 
•    Pub. Date: June 2010
•    Publisher: Santa Monica Press
•    Format: Paperback, 312pp
•    ISBN-13: 9781595800527
•    ISBN: 1595800522


Combining storytelling and courageous honesty for those who seek spiritually optimistic guidance, this compilation of inspiring stories of female creativity and compassion demonstrates the art of storytelling at its best. Consisting of approximately two dozen nonfiction essays—by authors such as Lauren Artress, Christina Baldwin, Bobbi Gibb, Mama Donna Henes, Jyoti, Dr. Gladys McGarey, Suni Paz, Hagit Ra'anan, Sheri Ritchlin, and Janet Riehl—each unique story is a celebration of courageous women living spiritual lives in the face of challenging circumstances. These authors go beyond the limits of their everyday existence to find that challenges are really just opportunities to reach into their souls and find meaning and new strength in life.

COME AND MEET 

SOME OF THE AUTHORS

Alice Butler Collins, Ali Norman Franks, Terry Laszlo-Gopadze and Suni Paz will be presenting their own stories.

SUNDAY, OCTOBER 24 at 5 PM 

Mystic Journey Bookstore
1319 Abbott Kinney, Venice CA
Phone 310-399-7070

Bits & Pieces. On-Line Floricanto October 19

Michael Sedano

Rudolfo and Patricia Anaya Lecture Series on the Literature of the Southwest

Before there were Blogs there was Listserve. And for readers of Chicana Chicano Literature, the best listserv was CHICLE. In fact, La Bloga's OG blogueros, Rudy Garcia, Manuel Ramos, and Michael Sedano, met as CHICLEros (although Rudy and Manuel were homeboys antes de ser blogueros).

I was reminded how much I miss CHICLE when its founder, Teresa Marquez of the University of New Mexico (yes, the same Teresa Marquez of a Sonny Baca mystery novel whose title escapes me), advised La Bloga of the upcoming Rudolfo and Patricia Anaya Lecture Series on the Literature of the Southwest. Teresa, thank you for all that work monitoring and nurturing CHICLE.

The inaugural speaker is Simon Ortiz, Acoma poet and professor at Arizona State University. His presentation, the connections among indigenous cultures, Southwest studies and global literature, will be Thursday, October 21 at 5:30 p.m. in the George Pearl Hall auditorium at the University of New Mexico.

The event is free and open to the public.

The lecture series will be an annual event under the auspices of the UNM English Department through a generous donation from Rudolfo Anaya.

Also this week: SoCal Historical Archives Feast

Doheny Memorial Library, University of Southern California, hosts the 5th-Annual Los Angeles Archives Bazaar, Saturday October 23, from 9:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m.


The bazaar showcases the USC Libraries' extensive collection of Southern California and Los Angeles materials. Displays include 70-plus historical collections and archives, including L.A.-area universities, libraries, museums, and community organizations. Historians, local culture aficionadas aficionados, curious writers and assorted tipas tipos will browse rare collections, consult with experts, and learn about researching L.A. history, online tools, preserving your personal history collections.

The event is free. Parking is $8.00. See the "LA as Subject" website for maps, contact info and other datos.

Siqueiros Events Continue in El Lay This Week. Meet Mark Vallen: Artist, Writer

After spending the day at USC Doheny Memorial Library's bazaar, it's a short drive to Eagle Rock for José Vera gallery's 6:30 p.m. art talk by noted realist artist Mark Vallen on Siqueiros & the Mexican School of Social Realism.

José Vera's current show features prints and drawings created as tributes to the Mexican muralist's heritage. In addition, the gallery offers a breathtaking collection of furniture, Batchelder-style tile, colored-glass and mosaic work. Located near the corner of Eagle Rock and Colorado blvds at 2012 Colorado Blvd, LA 90041, José Vera sponsors poetry readings and local artist shows. More information is at the gallery's website.

Vallen appears also in November at the Mexican Cultural Institute at Olvera Street, speaking on David Alfaro Siqueiros and the BLOC OF PAINTERS, American Social Realism in the 1930s.

When Siqueiros arrived in Los Angeles in 1932 he assembled what he called the "Bloc of Painters," a group of United States artists whose members assisted the Mexican muralist in painting three monumental wall paintings in L.A. Among Bloc members were Rubin Kadish, Harold Lehman, Fletcher Martin, Phil Paradise, Murray Hantman, Barse Miller, Paul Sample, Philip Guston, Millard Sheets. By combining projected images with his lecture, Mark Vallen brings to light that buried history. Saturday, November 6, 2010. 6:30 p.m. Mexican Cultural Institute.

The Siqueiros bits & pieces come from Mark Vallen's blog, Art for a Change. It's well worth frequent visits, or a free subscription. In the current edition, Vallen has a fascinating critique comparing Vietnam-era protest art to Obama's Afghanistan war, "The Madonna of the Napalm."

Early Notice: Veterans Day Reading Event

AMVETS Post II will be hosting a Veterans Day event on Nov. 11 at 7 pm. It will feature readings by novelist Daniel Cano, Death and the American Dream; Chris Sweeney, reading fromThe Things They Carried, and Actor/Activist, Kiki Castillo reading from William "Bill" Lansford's latest work on the USMC Raiders.

Lansford leads the effort to complete the installation of the Obregon Memorial near Olvera Street. The memorial honors the 4000 holders of the Congressional Medal of Honor, including the 40 Latinos whose valor in combat singled them out for the nation's most significant honor.

AMVETS Post 2 is located at 10858 Culver Blvd, Culver City, CA

On-Line Floricanto from Poets Responding to SB1070

Last week, La Bloga introduced the moderators active in selecting La Bloga's On-Line Floricanto poems. Poets submit their work to the Facebook group, Poets Responding to SB1070, and the moderators make their several recommendations, with leader Francisco Alarcón tabulating their choices to produce the list of weekly floricanto work.

This week, the hard-working staff selected eight poets for your reading pleasure:

1. "Nahualli" by Octaviano Merecias-Cuevas
2. "Mi bandera"/"My Flag" by Sonia Gutiérrez
3. "Cómo hubiera" by Abel Salas
4. “Borderless Haikus" by azul i haros
5. "Time to Shine/Out of the Dark" by Manuel Lozano
6. "Del Color de Esta Tierra Yo He Nacido" by Victor Yaocelotl Olguin
7. "Columbus Day" by Stay True ~ Jesus Cortez
8. “Epiphany Pathway” by Scott Maurer



Nahualli

by Octaviano Merecias-Cuevas


Cha ja ntaku kitii

Me sacudo la melena larga de mi tribu Mixteca

Mis pies de vegetales cobran energías con un tercer ojo

Soy la mitad del corazón salvaje que le crecen garras

Y ahora puedo volar y esconderme en el aire.



¿Qué hará mi gente Triqui en los campos de tomate

si no llegamos a tiempo a curarle el mal?

¿Qué hará la Mixteca abandonada en el desierto

si no llega a tiempo la medicina del Nahual?



He visto a la mujer indígena violada y tirada

Dejar correr un charco de lagrimas rojas

Allí le sigue mi madre negra atada con cadenas

Debajo de la iglesia y detrás de los plantíos.



Aquel cuerpo del indio en la frontera yace tirado

y su espíritu me habla con voz de viento

la conciencia del bien me llama para curar,

pues la pólvora del opresor yo puedo escapar

.. ..

He visto los látigos del caporal marcar

La espalda del indio y negro, en el norte y en el sur

Y seguí a la mujer viuda que llora por las calles

buscando al hijo desaparecido, se lo llevo el dólar.



I’m the thousand voices of millions, the nahualli.

I’ll hide behind the small prints of the antropolgists

I’ll chew away books published by the lingüist,

The real reason lies deep in the mountains

with those forgotten by history and by us.



Nací con el tiempo y con el sol moriré

Ni las enciclopedias del blanco ni las flechas del mal

Me tocaran, solo el corazón de mi gente me hará llorar

Soy la voz del silencio del mojado abandonado

Soy el grito del indio en las montañas

Soy el reflejo de tu conciencia

No soy miedo, soy cultura, no soy ruido
Soy lengua, soy tu amigo, soy tu amiga.





"Mi bandera"/"My Flag" by Sonia Gutiérrez

Mi bandera


Mi bandera es del color de la flora—
de amarillos, verdes crespos y secos,
y de rosados encendidos: son las caritas
de flores y botones por sonreír.

Mi bandera es del color de la fauna—
de matices cremosos y oscuros
y de un pecho azul verde resplandeciente:
es el galope inquieto levantando el polvo y el grito
desgarrador emplumado.

Mi bandera es del color del agua—transparente
arropándome con sus brazos sin pugnar por el color
de la piel: en ella—río, gozo, canto, lloro y vuelvo
a sentirme amada.

Mi bandera no es del color de un arroyo rojo
de la sangre derramada de mi hermano palestino,
de mi hermana africana, de mi hermano blanco,
de mi hermana china, y de mi hermano sediento.
mi bandera es el vaivén de una mano y un pañuelo
como un pájaro mensajero dolido buscando un monte
de esperanza ofreciendo paz y libertad.



My Flag

My flag is the color of flora
of yellows, crisp and dry greens,
and of bright pinks: they are the little faces
of flowers and buds to soon smile.

My flag is the color of fauna—
of creamy and dark hues
and of a radiant greenish-blue chest:
it is the restless gallop stirring dust and the feathered
heart-rending scream.

My flag is the color of water—clear
embracing me with its arms without fighting over skin
color: in it—I laugh, I rejoice, I sing, I cry and I feel
loved again.

My flag is not the color of a red stream
of spilled blood from my Palestinian brother,
from my African sister, from my white brother,
from my Chinese sister, and from my thirsty brother:
my flag is the swaying of a hand and handkerchief
like a wounded messenger bird searching for a mount
of hope offering peace and liberty.




"Cómo hubiera" by Abel Salas

(a quienes llegaron y están por llegar)

Como hubiera
querido quererte aún
mejor y entender que
la frontera reflejada en
tu quijada dura
en tu boca fuerte
a veces en la sonrisa
tan sincera como
la de tus padres
sí era traspasable

Como hubiera
querido decir que
el viaje sin remedio
lo hiciste por un amor
vivo, tangible y real
y no solo hecho de
las puras palabras

Como hubiera
querido hacerte
entender que mi
sangre tambien
vive en tu país
la fuente de mis
antepadasos y
todos los sueños
como alas de
un papalotl de
papel china

Como hubiera
querido cruzar
la frontera final
a tu lado sin los
mismos miedos o
el eco sanguinario
de fantasmas viejas
clavadas en mis
venas desde antes
cuando aun existia
dentro del vientre
de mi madre y contra
cuales he luchado
desde hace siglos

Como hubiera
querido ser bueno
ante tus ojos de
obsidiano y tus
pasos hacia el
mentado norte

Como hubiera
querido salvar
tanto a nuestro
cariño como hubiera
querido cicatrizar
a tanta gente con
sed perdida en
el desierto por
nada y sin nada
más que heridas
de lo inalcanzable

Como hubiera
querido tratar de
volar por el espacio
teleportarme a ti
y al pasado con
brazos cargados
de agua y pan para
aquellas esperanzas
y un beso profundo
plantado en tu frente

Como hubiera
querido despedirme
sin la desolación o
el diluvio de lágrimas
saladas sobre nuestros
recuerdos ya convertidos
en torres inmóviles

Como hubiera
querido borrar esas
leyes racisctas y
xenofóbicas para
no impedir tu
camino por las
piedras minerales

Como hubiera
querido sentir el
viento de tus mil
caricias otra vez
Como hubiera
querido borrar
mi propia torpeza
y hacerte creer
que sobre todo
y para siempre
eres mi otro yo
in lak ech



“Borderless Haikus" by azul i haros

1

cada palabra
un echo
para sanar la frontera

2

a border poem
can break the dreams
of minute men rifles

3

una poeta de la frontera
podra quebrar los fieros
alimentando un coyote

4

a border poem
can break the steal and will
of fronteras and papers

5

when will we collectively place
sb 1070 poems alonside
the arizona y tijuana borders

6

como me deshago
de la mentira de papeles
orkando mi columna vetebral

7

echo the universe
sin fronteras de lenguas
poetas respondiendo a el vientre de quetzalcoatl

8

de donde eres
poeta echo de barro y luz
cuantos papeles has quemado

9

open the herrida abierta
pour the medicine of your words
re-member you're tlacuilo

10

count and cuentame
de los soles azules adentro
de tus manos/abuelas/pueblos

11

how do these borders continue
to cross us out after we saw
they were lies that crossed us

12

border amnesia plaguing
zebra tortilla revolutionaries
eating ghost bones of juarez

13

generations of the thirteenth sun
waiting for your laughter
in re-membering your hands and music
can remove all these imaginary fronteras

14

human paper law
red and black law of tunkashila,
ometeo y la madre de la agua
que viva la evolucion

15

echoes of us
i was born to love
in this sacred borderless time

16

blue water
food of tonantzin
childrens song vibrating red

17

tell me where you're from
i'll tell you your name is deeper than that
sana las aguas de tu yollotl sin papeles





Time to Shine/Out of the Dark

by Manuel Lozano


Out of nowhere it was time,
Time to rebel, time to shine,
To pierce the dark overcast
And redefine the old uprise.
This one’s for all those from the past,
For all those seeking paradise
In a land where tyrants rule.
Control the feed, control the mule,
Work goes up, the pay goes down,
Look what happened to our sacred jewel,
The jester wears it on his makeshift crown.

In with wild thunder,
With full force, a natural wonder,
In the midst of the ongoing storm
With no time to ponder what’s coming next.
This one’s for all those with humble form,
The common list of usual suspects
That still emit the natural light.
Destroy the day, veil the night,
The stage is set, the curtains drawn,
The ones below suffer their plight
Because the top exploits what it’s sitting on.

There is no room to understand,
The hidden truth, some contraband,
It all relates to what is hidden
With the task at hand an ongoing nightmare.
This one’s for all those who are bedridden,
This is the madness that we share
In dreams that take a turn for the worse.
Twisted vision, whispered curse,
It’s all the same, nothing’s unique,
The left and the right side converse
About those left out that shall never speak.

There’s no surrender,
We the people, deemed the big spender,
Screaming out loud point the middle finger
At the legal tender with the eye on the price.
This one’s for all those who do not linger,
We take up arms against the enterprise
Who vows to keep the family defeated.
It is written, you can read it,
In these lines, in rhythmic melody,
We rise up and do whatever’s needed
To protect our family.

Just like that the time was here,
The veil burned, the smoke blown clear,
The skyline fractured with the lightning bolt
And we do not fear the road we’ve got to take.
This one’s for all those who revolt,
For the ones intact where fractures break
The tight grip of the ivory tower.
It’s us that lead, we have the power,
This land is ours, both yours and mine,
And in the depths of this darkest hour
It is indeed our time to shine.

© Manuel Lozano 2010






Del Color de Esta Tierra Yo He Nacido

by Victor Yaocelotl Olguin


Del color de esta tierra yo he nacido
Por herencia y con orgullo soy de sangre mexicana
Sangre que cubrió la faz de nuestra madre tierra
Cuando el invasor llego destruyendo todo a su paso
Con el único afán de saciar sus instintos y codicia desmedida
Hoy, la fuerza genética de mis antepasados se despierta
Hoy mi ser entero se transforma al ritmo del tambor
Mi corazón revive los recuerdos que con celo guardaba
Y descubro la belleza de nuestra tradición!

Victor Yaocelotl Olguin




Columbus Day

by Stay True - Jesus Cortez

So I lay my head on a foreign bed, wondering what could have been...

...They killed my mother, and left me for dead--now living is a sin...

How many barriers have been built, to keep me in my place...

Bullets could not, fences could not, ever stop my pace...

I wonder how murderers feel, to have a celebration...

Unless their last names are Columbus, they'll find incarceration...

Tomorrow I'll sing to skies, filled with mother's eyes...

I'm still alive, still have hope, much to their surprise...


SO I DREAM

by Stay True - Jesus Cortez

Forgive me for not wanting to be "American",
on second thought don't forgive me
I rather be me, free to see above flags,
since all they are is glamourized rags;
why would I brag about being accepted...
into a society that wants me to be molded in the name of their father,
their son and their holy spirit, but neglected
to tell me that even if I sold my soul
my skin would betray me in a heartbeat,so I stand before those who judge me
and say I rather be without papers
without fakers on my side--above the sun shines
only for those who belong, maybe I don't
but I still sing my song, in my voice
that will not be muted no matter how strong
the winds of oppression, or obsession
with a Dream that was never meant for me--
SO I DREAM a different dream, where papers
are useful only when minds are too lazy to
remember that humanity has no legality--
I rather be Respected than accepted;
so I can not ask for forgiveness for my sin,
or the sins of my MOTHERS, for that would
be betraying my brothers...

By: Jesus Cortez

“Epiphany Pathway" by Scott Maurer

Dedicated to Hal D. Levy, 28 February 1956 - 13 September 2010, and to Hal’s mother

what punctures our balloon
of suspension of disbelief

of painful emotions eased
by scapegoat punching-bag



BIOS

1. "Nahualli" by Octaviano Merecias-Cuevas

A trilingual Mixteco poet, socio-linguist, researcher, filmmaker and community educator. A member of H2@arte and Black Poets Society. Member of the new movement of Poesía Mixta, where the indigenous languages mix with Spanish, English, and Portuguese, can be part of one whole song/poem/piece using a simple mathematical structures. Currently he lives in Oregon where he serves as a faculty member for Oregon State University Extension Services working with youth at risk and leading New Media Technology projects. He has long hair, is single, and is looking for his musa. You can find out more about his new media projects at vozdenube.com and Facebook.com/octaviano.merecias or @ myspace.com/oktavio104

2. "Mi bandera"/"My Flag" by Sonia Gutiérrez

foto: Esveida Lopez

Sonia Gutiérrez’s poetry and fiction have appeared in City Works Journal, La Revista Literaria de El Tecoloto, Fringe Magazine, Mujeres de Maíz, among others and forthcoming in Turtle Island to Abya Yala. She teaches English at Palomar College and is currently working on her manuscript, Spider Woman/La Mujer Araña, a bilingual poetry collection. To see more of Sonia’s work, visit her bloguita, Chicana in the Midst: Poetry, Prose, and Fotografía by Sonia Gutiérrez, Guest Poetas y Fotographers.

3. "Cómo hubiera" by Abel Salas

4. “Borderless Haikus" by azul i haros

5. "Time to Shine/Out of the Dark" by Manuel Lozano

Manuel Lozano, self-taught writer and

artist, lives in El Paso, “El Chuco,” Texas,

cradle of the pachuco. Manuel writes

traditional verse “to the rhythm of the

Matachines.” His work has appeared in

Xican@ Poetry Daily,La Bloga and El Tecolote.

Visit his blog, Manuel Lozano: Xicano Writing, at

www.manuellozano7.blogspot.com for more

information.

6. "Del Color de Esta Tierra Yo He Nacido" by Victor Yaocelotl Olguin

Hello, i am Victor Yaocelotl Olguin, I live in Cleburne Tx. and i'm a member of calpulli Tonalpilli in Dallas Tx. I'm also with the group of danza Azteca-Chichimeca (Mexica') Mitiotiliztli Yaoyollo'tli (heart of the warrior) that belongs to the same calpulli.

7. "Columbus Day" by Stay True ~ Jesus Cortez

Jesus Cortez is a 30 year-old poet from West Anaheim, California. His inspiration comes from his immigrant background, the street life, the pain of his people and the pain of all people. He knows that poems are like bullets against oppression, but that more action is needed if changes are to come.

8. “Epiphany Pathway” by Scott Maurer

Scott Maurer is híbrido USA-Brasileiro writer living in Lake Oswego, Oregon, Administrator of Poets Responding to SB 1070 on Facebook, e alumnus of USC Annenberg, Albertson College of Idaho, Emory University, Ohio State University, Xavier University, U. of Cincinnati, e Colégio Salete Brasil.

Moving from Tight Little Machines to the Novel

Essay by Daniel Olivas

[Note: I’ve just completed the final edits to the proofs of my upcoming novel, The Book of Want, which will be published by the University of Arizona Press early next year. With that done, I turned back to my next book, a collection of stories and essays tentatively titled, Things We Do Not Talk About. In culling through my various published essays from the last ten years or so, I came upon the essay which I republish here; it first appeared in CaliforniaAuthors in February 2007. Perhaps it will be of some interest to La Bloga readers, particularly those who are embarking on novel writing.]

I recently interviewed Salvador Plascencia on the occasion of the paperback release of his novel, The People of Paper. I asked if he was working on another novel or perhaps short stories.

He replied: “I think I’m stuck writing novels for better or worse. I’m too scattered to be able to make one of those tight little machines they call short stories.”

Tight little machines? Perfect.

But what struck me more than Plascencia’s eloquence was his unapologetic candor. At the time, I was in the midst of trying to make the leap from short story writer to novelist, and going crazy in the process. Plascencia got me wondering why I was putting myself through all that angst. I’d garnered nice reviews for my two collections, Assumption and Other Stories and Devil Talk, and my stories have been taught in high school and college. My novella and children’s picture book were also well received. I write because it gives me joy, not because it’ll put food on the table. I had no compelling reason to start writing a novel.

When I started writing, why did I gravitate to short stories rather than the novel? Part of the answer is the delight I derived when I was younger and falling in love with those tight little machines by such writers as Fitzgerald, Maugham and Hemingway. And then later, I discovered the likes of Boyle, Cisneros and Bender. I learned that a short story is like a poem: each word, every sentence, has to matter. Yet I could think of a few great 500-page novels that might be trimmed by a few thousand words without losing much strength.

Another reason why I gravitated to the short form was my busy schedule as a full-time litigator with the California Department of Justice. I’m also a husband and father. The spotty writing time that I can scrape together in the evenings or weekend mornings makes it difficult for me to maintain any sort of continuity for longer pieces. I know other writers can do it, but we all have different strengths, as my mother always reminded me when I was young. I figured that I could write short stories for the rest of my life and that would just fine, thank you very much. There was no disgrace in being a short story writer. I mean, Borges never wrote a novel, right?

I completed another short-story collection, which my agent and I sent out. But a couple of large publishing houses passed on it with basically the same sentiment: love your writing but short stories are a tough sell. Don’t you have a novel in you?

This was a bit maddening because, as all writers know, no one ever asks a novelist, “Don’t you have a short-story collection in you?” Never. Ever. But that’s fine. There are greater injustices in life.

In any event, since I like challenges, I tried to map out the kind of novel I would write. And this is when I started to go a bit crazy. Visions of writing the “Great American Novel” crept into my brain. Once that happened, the very idea of writing a novel seemed like an impossible—and not very fun—job. And then I conducted the Plascencia interview, which shook some sense into me. I suddenly realized that I would not write a novel unless it was fun. If I decided not to move to the longer form, that was fine. So I figured I’d take baby steps. If I were to write a novel, what would be about?

I’ve written about Chicanos of all ages and income levels who confront various challenges from unrequited love to battles with bigotry or economic hardship or you-name-it. I’ve also set stories in Mexico and I haven’t been afraid to dip heavily into magical realism especially in my collection, Devil Talk. And because I was raised as a Roman Catholic and converted to Judaism in adulthood, I’ve touched upon issues of intermarriage, religious tensions and even the Holocaust.

I saw no reason to stray from these themes. I kept reminding myself that this novel would have to be fun to write. Otherwise why do it? I didn’t want to get bored with the characters or plot, something that never happens when I write short stories. I mean, look, they’re short. You get in, you get out. It’s a little thrill ride with no time for things to get dull.

I eventually came upon the overarching inspiration and structure for my novel that would pull together all of these elements. Maybe it wouldn’t sell, but so what? (That noise you hear is my agent sighing—deeply, sadly.) But I knew that if I were to write a novel, this would be it.

I also knew that my novel would not have the panoramic, epic breadth of, say, Luis Alberto Urrea’s brilliant The Hummingbird’s Daughter. It would be closer to the novel-in-stories such as one of my favorite books, The Joy Luck Club by Amy Tan, or perhaps Laila Lalami’s exquisite Hope and Other Dangerous Pursuits. While the chapters would connect, I wanted each to be able to stand alone as a short story, to be self-contained and a world unto itself. Not only did I want to touch on some of my favorite themes, I also hoped to address such timely topics as the quagmire in Iraq, Los Angeles politics (especially our Chicano mayor), immigration and assimilation.

Once I settled on the themes and structure, I approached each chapter with the joyful giddiness I get from starting a new short story.

That was about a year ago. I finished the novel and sent it to my agent and she, in turn, forwarded the manuscript to a couple of editors who wanted to see me make the leap to the long form. Now all we can do is wait. Will they like my novel? God only knows.

But I had a damn fun time writing it.

[Postscript: My agent couldn’t sell the novel to larger presses because it was "too experimental" and "too literary.” We parted ways (no hard feelings) and I eventually submitted my manuscript to the University of Arizona Press and look forward to its publication in 2011. I am very happy with this turn of events because I did not have to compromise my writing: U of A has long been a leader in publishing the work of Chicano and Latino literature.]

ire’ne lara silva’s furia: la mujer que se sueña libre

Olga García Echeverría

*all poetry excerpts in this blog from furia by ire'ne lara silva

…the truth is that i fear i may lose

words and like a rabid animal seek refuge in

howling with impotent fury

A couple of months ago ire’ne’s manuscript came my way. It fell into my hands unexpectedly, passed on from a friend. furia. The title intrigued me. I carried the manuscript around in my book bag for a while, hoping to find the right time to sit down with it. But every time I thought the right time had arrived something happened--a student came knocking, my mother got sick, my stove exploded. Asi es la vida. Full of unexpected arrivals. Full of combustion. Full of furia.

Finally, I took the manuscript with me to the laundromat. This is where I read ire’ne lara silva’s words for the first time. In Lincoln Heights. On a blue plastic chair. To the soundtrack of tumbling dryers, constant traffic and occasional sirens. I dug into the poems between the wash and the spin cycle. Between the loading and unloading. Among barrio women sorting colores and folding sábanas. In the midst of screeching children running amuck, clutching dripping paletas and plastic bags of Flaming Hot Cheetos. The strong scents of Ariel, bleach, and Suavecito penetrating the nariz. All my senses awake. This is how I entered furia.

ire'ne lara silva’s poetic journey in furia is one of shedding and healing. She peels away at the “calloused layers” of her heart a poem at a time para poder soñarse/imaginarse libre. Pieces in the collection deal with memory, the loss of a mother, love/desire, and the struggle to forgive an abusive father. At times the manuscript feels heavy and dark, but ire’ne is able to weave out of those moments and offer us glimpses of light. Her work is most powerful when she’s able to bust through the pain, transform it, and celebrate herself and others despite all the furia and all the loss. For example, “i come from women illiterate and rough-skinned” honors the women who’ve come before her. Although ire’ne is addressing a legacy of female oppression, she does so in an empowering way, challenging Virginia Woolf’s claim that for millions of years women have sat indoors. The poet’s ancestors have not sat indoors; they’ve slaved and suffered, their class/color/race determining their particular roles in society. Here’s a short excerpt from the poem:

i come from women illiterate and rough-skinned all their creativity
bent to the tasks of survival
enslaved women conquered women…
women who nurtured
babies in their wombs embraced them buried them women who
made walls with their own hands who sewed and washed and cared
for the sick women who took in laundry cleaned houses cared for
the children of others…

Yet, it is the legacy of these conquered women that creates force and longing, “volcanoes of longing/hurricanes of longing deserts of longing…”

their longing and ours
taken root in our soul rising through the earth of our lives
branching and leafing and blossoming as we write and sing and
dance and breathe and dream.

For ire’ne lara silva the creation of art, desire, and nature are medicine. Take the lines from her poem “desire could make”:

desire could make us lean make us flushed make us
speak love break burn blossom us devour us devouring…
…desire could make us live

Or take the final stanza of her poem “the wind suffers love” where nature is a force that sweeps through the poet, casting out the sadness/darkness that possesses the body and spirit:

sweep through me
wind losing none of your grey ferocity
hunt out this aching darkness claw
pierce bleed it make it whimper cast it
out sweep through me hurling out
shadow and ash loss and wanting

Or take the ending of “i come from women illiterate and rough-skinned” where ire’ne attests to the critical role of creativity:

art-making is necessity is survival is
medicine is love is combustion raw and spontaneous bursting
weeping
healing our lives

If you're in Austin, Texas, you can check out more of ire'ne's work. HER BOOK RELEASE READING is on 10/24/10, Sunday 7:00pm at New India Cuisine @ 2304 S. Congress. With Guest Poets jo reyes-boitel, Moisés S. L. Lara, and others. Limited Re-Release of ani’mal and INDíGENA (chapbooks)

This past week, I got to ask ire’ne a few questions about herself and her work. Here she is sharing her responses with La Bloga.

When and why did you start writing?

I started writing a very long time ago. I think I was about eight. I woke up from a nightmare where I’d been orphaned after my family died in a fire. There was no one to go crying to, and I had to let it out. I felt compelled to write it down. We didn’t have any blank sheets of paper in the house, so I wrote it on a brown paper bag that I cut up into little pages. Poetry came later. I wrote and wrote and read and read until I graduated from high school. It wasn’t until my first year of college that I began to find my voice and my own subject matter.

Who influenced your journey as an artist?

My first influence was music—musica ranchera, boleros, los conjuntos. Cornelio Reyna, Jose Alfredo Jimenez, and Juan Gabriel. After that, it was African-American poets like Audre Lorde, June Jordan, NikkiGiovanni, Langston Hughes, and Sonia Sanchez. Toss in some Neruda and Lorca and e.e. cummings and Emily Dickinson and Edna St. Vincent Millay. I found Latino poets a little later: Carmen Tafolla, Francisco X. Alarcon, and raulrsalinas, inparticular. The first Latina poet I ever read was Aurora Levins Morales. Raul Salinas was a great example ofartistic integrity and activist commitment. He always made a space for all us stray poets. I’ve also participated in and been influenced by different writer communities: Austin Hispanic Writers, Macondo, and Cantomundo. I owes much to my brother, Moisés S. L. Lara, who is an exquisite poet in his own right. No one could ask for a more challenging reader or a more demanding editor.

Furia is your first collection of poetry. Did you write it at a particular time in your life or with a particular intent?

For the most part, I wrote the poems in furia over the last seven years, but this is not the book I planned. furia coalesced very recently during a particularly difficult time. But once it did, everything fell into place very naturally. I can't say, though, it was an easy collection to work on. There was a lot of revision involved.

You write and weave in and out of two languages. Do you do that consciously?

I’ve written in English, in Spanish, and I have some English/Spanish bilingual poems. A few poems are also embedded with a little Nahuatl. I don’t write this way because I think it makes me more authentically Chicana or Latina or because I deliberately want to be anti- establishment. I think a poet, in pursuit of expressing her deepest truths, needs every tool at her disposal—every word, every image, every emotion. Nothing can be discarded.

Have you encountered any challenges publishing due to language?

I’ve never had any problems publishing the poems I wrote wholly in Spanish. Every Spanish poem I’ve submitted to a literary journal has been published. Of course, I submitted them to U.S. Spanish-language journals or to Chican@/Latin@ journals. Honestly, I wasn’t sure that I would find a publisher for this particular collection. Not because of its language or languages, but because of its themes and its cultivation of one's inner darkness being relinquished. I am very glad that my work found Mouthfeel Press(http://www.mouthfeelpress.com/ ). Our communities (people of color, women, working-class, lgbt) have a long history with small, independent presses. They have been the best forums for our work because they support our visions and our ways of working with language.

What would you like readers to take away with them when reading furia?

There’s a lot of confusion and grief and loss and anger in these poems, but I think there’s also a lot of energy and a lot of hope. In a way, these poems are my map--how I kept going. All of us, I think, are at different stages of being wounded and of healing, feeling and not feeling, remaining silent and speaking. And that’s what I hope these poems acknowledge and affirm--that there is no need to be afraid to feel, that we shouldn't let repressed emotions poison us, that we can speak.

In furia, nature emerges as medicine? Can you briefly speak to this theme in your poems?

For a beautiful expanse of wildflowers to exist, the seed has to struggle to emerge from the ground. It has to wait for rain, vulnerable to the weather and the heat. Each flower waits for pollination. And each flower has to surrender so much of itself to create new seeds. It gives up everything, letting parts of itself die so that the new seeds can be released and born. Nature shows us, always, how ceaseless the work of rebirth is. What matters are the seeds we create and how willing we are to undertake that work, learning what should be surrendered and what should be preserved. On November 19th, it will be nine years since my mother passed away. I still grieve for her everyday. I don’t understand this reluctance people have to speak of their dead. My mother would say, “mis muertitos,” and acknowledging death did nothing to lessen her love for the ones she had lost. She surrendered her fear of death and preserved love.

Why did you choose the word furia for your title?

In nature, animals possess a ferocious innocence that they need in order to survive, to hunt, to protect their young, to shed everything that isn't aligned with their health. To me, 'furia’ is not just ‘fury,’ to me it also means ‘ferocity.’ And we, like animals, must be ferocious in our living, our speaking, and our healing. People think of grief and anger as negative emotions or as emotions that should be dealt with efficiently and then put away. But they, like love or desire, can be a spark, can be kindling, can be illumination. Any emotion, felt ferociously, cannot be a stagnant thing. You move through it, move with it, fight it, sit with it, learn from it, create with it.

What's next for you as an artist?

I have a completed short story collection that I'm hoping will soon find a publisher. My collection of short stories, titled “the ocean’s tongue,” is concerned with borders of all kinds—and the potential for transformation or self-destruction. The nine stories are heavily invested in writing or rewriting ‘myth’ from women’s point of view and in investigating liminal ways of perceiving the world. La Bloga readers can read the title storyat: http://accentosreview.com/August_2010/August_2010.html

And currently, I'm working on a novel, NACI, set in South Texas, that explores racial/national/gender/sexual identities and the human consequences of historically documented environmental pollution.

ire’ne lara silva lives in Austin , TX. Her work has appeared in various journals and anthologies including Acentos Review, Sin Fronteras/Writers Without Borders, CIPACTLI, Kweli Journal, The Worcester Review, Rhapsoidia, Kalliope; Soleado; Borderlands: Texas Poetry Review, Palabra, The Mesquite Review, The Weight of Addition: Texas Poetry Anthology, Turtle Island to Abya Yala: A Love Anthology of Art and Poetry by Native American and Latina Women, Finding Gloria: Nos/Otras, and the Cantos al Sexto Sol Anthology. She is the 2008 recipient of the Gloria Anzaluda Milagro Award and a 2010 Cantomundo Inaugural Fellow. ire'ne lara silva is the author of two chapbooks: ani’mal and INDíGENA. Her first collection of poetry, furia, was published in October 2010 by Mouthfeel Press. She can be reached at: irenelarasilva@yahoo.com for reading invitations, scheduling workshops, or any other correspondence. For more info and to order books, please go to: http://www.irenelarasilva.webs.com

Chicanonautica: Quest for Ciencia Ficción

It was the early Eighties – just before cyberpunk exploded – I was wandering around Mexico with my sister, because my Spanish was better than hers and my parents figured I'd damned well better take care of her. We went to the UNAM campus to check out the murals, when among stacks of stuff that students were selling, I saw come magazines that would send me on a life-long quest.

They were emblazoned with the words CIENCIA FICCIÓN. Hoping they would be Mexican science fiction magazines, I handed over some pesos. They weren't, but in the long run they turned out to be something better, two special science fiction issues of Comunidad CONACyT. The articles that taught me the important lesson that the border is a distorted one-way glass, the outside world sees more of America than we see out – these Mexicans knew a lot about American science fiction. I also was introduced to René Rebetez with a story and an essay, and Paco Ignacio Tabio II with a tale of Mexico's future.

There was science fiction from Mexico, Latin America, and Spain. I kept my eye out for more.

Later in the town of Palenque, not far from the Mayan ruins of the same name, I came across a used comic book stall run by pre-adolescent boys. They had a lot of science fiction comics – including unauthorized translations of American Fifties stuff.

I've been trying to tell the America science fiction community ever since. Somehow it never worked out -- a combination of the subject not being considered of interest to “the audience” and my usual trouble with trying to squeeze too much mind-blowing material into dinky formats. Thank Tezcatlipoca for La Bloga!

I'm happy to report that Spanish-language science fiction – and fantasy – is alive and well and living on the Web! Through my Facebook contacts and a Google search, I've learned about a number of online science fiction magazine, and websites:

Imaginarios: Revisat Digital Trimestral de Género Fantastico, published by the Federación Española de Fantastica Epica.

Nuevomundo: La Nueva Literatura Fantastica Hispanoamericana, also know as NM.

Ciencia Ficción Perú, an informative blog.

Axxón: Ciencia Ficción en Bits, science fiction, fantasy and horror, “creada en Argentina.”

QuitaDimension.com, news and information about South American science fiction, “terror,” and fantasy.

Cuasar: Ciencia, Terror y Fantasía, informative website of an Argentine magazine.

Sci-FdI: Revista de Ciencia Ficción de la Facultad de Informática de la UCM, which is the Universidad Complutense de Madrid.

Cygnus: La Revista de Ciencia Ficción, the contents of five issues of a magazine produced by UBIK, the science fiction club of the Universidad Simón Bolivar.

Cosmocápsula.com: Revista Columbiana de Ciencia-Ficción, that also has a print version.

CiFi: Portal de Ciencia Ficción, that is going to overload with us with stuff on this subject.

Ciencia Ficción Ecuador, that I just noticed has links to a lot of magazines, both celulosa y virtual, most of which I haven't heard of!

So my quest continues . . .

Hm. I wonder if those boys from Palenque now have websites?

Ernest Hogan's latest story – co-written with his wife,Emily – is “Plan 9 in Outer Space” in Space Horrors, edited by David Lee Summers.