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Three questions for Stephen D. Gutierrez regarding his collection of stories and essays, “The Mexican Man in His Backyard”

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Stephen D. Gutierrez is the author of the recently-published The Mexican Man in His Backyard, Stories and Essays (Roan Press).  This completes his trilogy of autobiographical and varied short stories he calls My Three-Volume BOXED Set.  Elements(FC2), which won the Nilon Award from FC2, and Live from Fresno y Los (Bear Star Press), winner of an American Book Award, make up the rest of it.  He has published both fiction and creative nonfiction in many magazines, anthologies and newspapers, including, most recently, New California Writing 2013 (Heyday Books), Catamaran Literary Reader, and Alaska Quarterly Review.  He is at work on a new collection of stories based on his alter ego Walter C. Ramirez.  Gutierrez has also written plays that have been performed in the San Francisco Bay Area and in Buffalo, New York. “Game Day” was the winner of the Maxim Mazumdar New Play Competition in the One-Act Category.  He teaches fiction writing at California State University East Bay.
 
Stephen D. Gutierrez 

DANIEL OLIVAS: With The Mexican Man in His Backyard, you complete a trilogy of books that focus on the people of Fresno and Los Angeles.  Did you have a particular goal in writing these three books?

STEPHEN GUTIERREZ: Not really.  Only to put together some pieces that I believed in and that hung together.  They wouldn’t die.  I wanted them out there in book form.  Of course, the fancier answer would be more complicated and involved and literary, so let me at least try to be more sophisticated: I wished to compile a cogent narrative using unorthodox and orthodox techniques that captured the times and places of my life, and, by extension, I hope, something about the spirit and flavor of my generation of Mexican Americans.  I wished for certain pieces to live – embellishing my first answer – a little longer than their lifespans in the magazines they first appeared in.  I desired this because they seemed healthy compared to the rest out there, the noted and honored and drooled over.  ”The fine, the great.”  Well, there’s not really much that is great out there, the accolades aside.  But I sound really pissy and envious there, and I am, everybody is.  I wanted to write and publish My Three-Volume BOXED Set because there’s some crazy shit in there like nobody else’s.  ”Yup, I gotta’ keep on and get this out there.”  I kept repeating this kind of encouragement to myself:  ”I too belong in the library being filled by my generation of American writers.  I got to keep plugging away and working because there aren’t enough Gutierrez’ in the stacks. I got to leave something behind that says I lived.”

DO: Your stories and essays drill down on what some might call those small, everyday events that make up most of our lives.  Yet out of these events (that are simultaneously humorous and heartbreaking), your characters often grow or come to some kind of understanding about themselves or the world around them.  What keeps you, as a writer, within the bounds of ordinary lives as opposed to grander events and themes?

SG: Small things in life are what tear me apart as opposed to the great doings in the world at any given time.  Let me admit an awful truth: I don’t really care about Ukraine right now, or Syria, or any given situation that people mumble in sympathy about.  At least, I don’t really feel that turmoil and pain those people must be experiencing, so I couldn’t possibly imagine writing about these great events with any authority or passion or concern.  Granted, you might not be talking about political events or extraordinary occurrences in the world at all, but about the enduring themes we all live through or learn about:  love, aging, death, etc.  My answer then is not surprising.  All these truths can best be approached by the way they most often present themselves, at least to me.  They enter stealthily, in subtle movements and gestures that signal more about the unfathomable mysteries they contain than the bald fact of their existence.  Death in a coffin is nothing.  Terror exposed in the eyes of a grandmother who isn’t ready to go yet but denies fear of death, is everything.  I could go on and on.  Life is symbolic, and is revealing its great messages in coded moments incessantly, continually.  I like to think my antennae are up in the everyday world and foggy in the grand sphere of the cosmos.  I don’t get God.  I get a burnt tortilla on the worst day of your life being the end of it all.

DO: One of my favorite pieces in your new collection is “La Muerte Hace Tortillas” probably because it touches on that treacherous terrain of the father-son relationship.  Can you talk a little about how that story came about?

SG: It is autobiographical.  My dad was afflicted with a terrible disease early on, its aggravating symptoms appearing from the time I was born to his wretched, painful, god-awful demise in a convalescent room bed eighteen years later.  A terrible end, just terrible.  He was embarrassing to me much of the time, and I was ashamed of him.  That is, I lived in fear of being embarrassed by him, so existed in an unseen shroud of shame.  It still covers me partly, but this answer has enabled me to slip out from under it again, as I am able to do with greater frequency, so thank you for that.  My dad was a hardworking, honorable man with a certain nobility to him because of what he suffered and endured with grace and courage, all for his family.  But the rough times I speak of in that piece were rough.  Certain days seemed like gifts from the gods – God! did I mention God before? – and this piece honors one of those days, exploring those tensions that rip the narrator apart usually but disappear in the fact of love and joy here – of a perfect day, when Death and Sickness and Despair do make tortillas, and tortillas are life.  A crazy Chicano activist threw the finger at us and I had to throw the finger back at him is another answer.     



Review: Lo que trae la marea. Stanford book choice. Mail Bag.

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Xánath Caraza. Lo que trae la marea / What the tide brings. Translated by Sandra Kingery, Stephen Holland-Wempe, and Xánath Caraza. El Paso, Texas : Mouthfeel Press, 2013.
ISBN: 0984426884 9780984426881

Michael Sedano

I reshelved the paperback, The World’s Great Short Stories, satisfied that this 1960s era collection, from my English major years in a pre-homicidal Isla Vista, still had moxie. I love old gems like “An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge,” “Big Blonde,” de Maupassant in translation. In fact, nostalgic pangs rose for Bocaccio, Chaucer, the whole shebang of Euro-United Statesian belles lettres, until I shook off looking back. Instead, I picked up a copy of Xánath Caraza’s bilingual collection Lo que trae la marea What the Tide Brings. Welcome to the future.

Lo que trae la marea What the Tide Brings makes important contribution to understanding America’s contemporary literary environment. Written in Spanish and translated by a team including the author, the collection of Spanish-then-English stories doesn’t carve out readership so much as it opens markets on both sides of the nation’s and continent’s language frontera.

The publisher’s location in Spanglish-speaking El Paso positions Mouthfeel Press to ride the swell of a rising tide of books that take in the two dominant American readerships in a single volume. Such are few, but with publishers challenged to find new markets, chicana writers like Caraza-- a Mexicana who lives in Missouri—offer rich possibilities. Simultaneous translation welcomes monolinguals of either idiom while enriching a bilingual’s literary choices.

The quality of Caraza’s 17 stories--34 in all, counting both languages--already has bloguera Caraza on numerous “best of” prize rosters. Xánath Caraza is the Monday La Bloga columnist, alternating with Daniel Olivas. Watch Xánath’s columns for updates on myriad nominations and honors coming to rest on Caraza’s mantle.

Lo que trae la marea What the Tide Brings features its Spanish-language version, followed by English. Language learners will appreciate an opportunity to flip from page to page to catch nuances in ways language works across meaning. Examples of these enrich the experience of each language’s expressive resources. The collection is rich in small triumphs of translation that add texture to one’s enjoyment.

A vivid example occurs in “After the Bridges.” A busy office slows down. Occupants notice the absence of noise. In English, silence intrudes on the natural order of the world of work:
“She knew that the end of the day was approaching because the pace was gradually slowing down. As the minutes went by, silence encroached upon them until almost no one,” 116

In Spanish, silence offers a return to normal:
“Supo que el final del día se estaba acercando porque poco a poco el ritmo se fue haciendo más lento. Por cada minuto que pasaba el silencio fue acrecentándose hasta que casí nadie,” 110

The difference between crecer and encroach elicits cultural approaches to workplaces. In Spanish,
silence enlarges naturally, evoking Boyle’s law that silence expands to fill the space where it belongs. In English, silence kicks down the door and takes over.

Among the highlights of the collection are Caraza’s masterful synaesthesia skills, exhibited in story after story. In “After the Bridges” the worker enjoys a cup of coffee accompanied by taste, smell, touch, color, vision, hearing:

“The next morning, as she took the first sip of coffee, she closed her eyes and inhaled the aroma of coffee with cardamom from her ceramic cup. With the first sip, she heard the sound of marimbas in the distance. With the second sip, the turquoise sky over the town square of La Antigua and its lush green trees materialized in her mind. Another sip of coffee and the candy vendors in the town square offered her white milk candy and shredded coconut sweets dyed pink.”117

In Lo que trae la marea / What the tide brings, Xánath Caraza puts together a fast-moving collection, varying the pace spacing one- and two-page pieces between more extended 5- or ten page stories. Each comes self-contained, no need to look for links from story to story. Each reads quickly, allowing the writer to sneak up on readers, leaving a reader leafing back a few paragraphs to confirm a detail, or to savor the synaesthesia of a moment, and especially to savor the magic that permeates nearly every story.

Among the most interesting of the puro magic stories is the sensual, “Café On Huanjue Xiang Street.” A woman wanders into a basement coffee den, the solitary customer. She drinks in the ambiente and passes out. When she comes to, the place is filled with stolid gente ignoring her. This key scene illustrates the skill Caraza weaves her magic pluma:

“She remained very attentive to the small blue flame that contrasted with the red, airy atmosphere of the place. She waited until the blue flame was extinguished while the coffee aroma penetrated her nose. She introduced the spoon into the black fluid, and as the sugar touched the coffee, a spirit emerged from the cup. The spirit wrapped around her in a smoky spiral. It traversed her, lightly touched her nipples and sex until she lost consciousness.” 128

Writers will take a lot of pleasure from the magic when a writer meets a mysterious stranger who hands her a book. Inside, the writer finds the finished story she has only drafted in her notebook. She reads it to find out how it comes out. Then there’s the teacher’s lament about the copier, how it transfers the teacher’s identity to the page and when the student answers the question the teacher feels each pen stroke on each of the hundred copies she ran through the copy machine. Caraza even gets in an hommage to Bierce’s “An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge,” in her “Flower in the Mist.”

Lo que trae la marea/What the Tide Brings is not to be missed. A woman’s point of view, in the two dominant American languages, this book is the future of United States literature. It’s not a secret, it’s demographics. Salvation for American publishing means make the books American, like Lo que trae la marea/What the Tide Brings.


Stanford Book Club Choice: Give It To Me


Southern California Stanford Latina Latino Alumni Book Club meets regularly for company, food, and excellent discussions of a book by a Chicana Chicano Latina Latino writer.

The August 24, 2014 selection is Ana Castillo's Give It To Me.

The group meets at 1:00 p.m. in Monrovia, California. Click here for information.



Mail Bag
Comadres and Compadres Writers Conference Discount Ends

Early bird discount deadline 6/1: 

La Bloga friend Marcela Landrés reminds writers of the Fall conference on the East Coast. Marcela sends datos:

The 3rd Annual Comadres and Compadres Writers Conference will provide Latino writers with access to published Latino authors as well as agents and editors who have a proven track record of publishing Latino books. We invite you to join us this year as a sponsor, advertiser, and/or attendee.

WHEN: Saturday, September 27, 2014

WHERE: Medgar Evers College, Brooklyn, NY

WHO: Esmeralda Santiago, author of the New York Times best-seller Conquistadora, will serve as keynote speaker. Panelists include: Meg Medina, author of Yaqui Delgado Wants to Kick Your Ass; Johanna Castillo, Vice President & Senior Editor, Atria/Simon & Schuster; and Jeff Ourvan, Literary Agent, Jennifer Lyons Literary Agency. For more details regarding the conference program, visit http://lascomadres.com/latinolit/latino-writers-conference/ 

Mail Bag
Troncoso Updates Truth

La Bloga friend Sergio Troncoso wants gente to know about the recent edition of his novel. Here's Sergio's email:

Dear Friends:

I am delighted to let you know that a revised and updated edition of my novel, The Nature of Truth, is now available in paperback for the first time (Arte Publico Press, 2014). I hope you will consider reading it. I wrote the novel because I loved that mix of philosophy and literature in writers like Dostoyevsky, Sartre, Camus, and Kafka, and also because I wanted to expand the literary terrain of Latino writers. I made some important changes in the plot and tightened the language, which I think makes this edition a better experience for readers.

Helmut Sanchez, a research assistant at Yale, discovers that his boss, a renowned professor, hides a Nazi past. By chance Helmut discovers an old letter written decades ago, which absolves Germany and Austria of any guilt for the Holocaust. As he digs into the origins of who wrote the letter, Helmut discovers it could be his boss, Werner Hopfgartner. Helmut travels to Austria and Italy with his girlfriend, Ariane Sassolini, in his quest to find the truth about Hopfgartner's past. Meanwhile, Professor Regina Neumann is determined to make Hopfgartner pay for his many sexual liaisons with undergraduate and graduate students. What will Helmut do with the awful truth he discovers? Will Werner Hopfgartner ever face justice for his past or present transgressions? Ultimately, what is the nature of truth?

Here is an interview I did with Maria Hinojosa on National Public Radio's Latino USA:
http://sergiotroncoso.podomatic.com/entry/2014-04-22T04_40_46-07_00

Señor Pancho Had a Rancho

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Review by Ariadna Sánchez
Nursery rhymes are considered an important source of cultural heritage. Through music, individuals can experience joy, hope, honesty, and friendship. Señor Pancho Had a Rancho is written by Salvadorean award-winning author René Colato Laínez and humorously illustrated by Elwood Smith.  Colato Laínez takes young readers through an incredible bilingual music journey to the farm along with Old McDonald and Señor Pancho. Old McDonald speaks English and his animal, too. Old McDonald’s animals make enthusiastic voices in the farm. The cow moos, the rooster crows cock-a-doodle-doos, the dog woofs, the sheep baas, the horse neighs, and the chick peeps.  On the other hand, Señor Pancho speaks Spanish and his animals, too. They greet Señor Pancho like this: la vaca says muu, el gallo sings quiquiriquí, el perro says guau guau, la oveja pronounces a high bee bee, el caballo says a noisy jii jii, and el pollito a soft pío pío here and there. Both farmers and their animals have a great time together, but at the end of the day, Old McDonald and Señor Pancho realize they are not as distinct as they seem when they first meet. Instead, they discover more things in common that allow them to spend the rest of the evening dancing and singing E-I-E-I-O and cha-cha-cha- cha-cha. The moral of Señor Pancho Had a Rancho is that in order to have fun and be friends, one needs to learn how to embrace each other’s differences. Visit your local library to read more amazing stories. ¡Adiós!



Chicanonatuica: The New, Improved, Salsa-Enhanced Cultura Wars

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The Cultura wars are always going on in the twilight zone between the Anglo and Latino Americas. The latest has to do with Chipotle, a corporate chain with a Nahuatl name that is trying to make Mexican food classy, so that folks who suck down Starbucks coffee all day can feel superior to the gente who like home-style cooking. Post-Ethnic America wants classy, upscale taco stands, culture, rather than Cultura, which is why they had bestselling-author Jonathan Safran Foer come up with a “branding campaign” called Cultivating Thought.

People need to have their thoughts cultivated? I though they came naturally. What kind of dystopian mind-control is this?

Cultivating Thought will put short stories by “award-winning authors, as well as celebrities” on cups and bags. Unfortunately they did not include any Latino authors, which of course has caused a backlash.

La Bloga’s own Rudy Ch. Garcia got into the act. he posted this on Facebook:

LatinoStory4Chipotle
What we can do to answer Chipotles' exclusion of latino writers--
1. Make up our own story (250 words, max)
2. Use your favorite LOCAL latino restaurant's logo or slogan
3. Identify your city, and share your piece across the country.
4. You can use the LatinoStory4Chipotle tag
I'm working on mine. Even if you're not, spread the word, por favor.

I was amused. I usually don’t participate in things like this, especially if they have a list of requirements, but inspiration hit me like sniper’s bullet, and the following story squirted out of my scrambled brain:


A SLICE OF MY LIFE AS A CHICANO STATE OF SCI-FI

© Ernest Hogan 2014

Got a message from Victor Theremin: MEET ME AT EL BRAVO, MUY PRONTO!

I rushed to mi troque and zig-zagged through Phoenix. I hadn’t heard from Victor in years. And I needed no excuse to indulge in El Bravos’s red meat burritos.

I passed a burning Chipotle on the way.

At the restaurant, I looked around. No Victor.  But I saw someone dressed as a saguaro cactus at a table, sitting next to a brain in a plexiglass box.

“Ernie, I’d like you to meet Flash Gomez,” the brain said in Victor’s voice.

“Flash! I haven’t seen you since you disappeared back in the Nineties --”

“Yes. A lot has happened since then.”

Then agents in FBI-ish suits and sunglasses burst in, brandishing sparking stun guns.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of this,” said Victor’s brain. It began to glow with a pulsating yellow light, accompanied by an electronic whine. They pulsed and throbbed faster and faster.

Soon I was dizzy and couldn’t see.

The next thing I knew I was in my backyard, seated in full-lotus position facing the big cow skull. I had the aftertaste of salsa in my mouth and a tingling in my inner ears. When I got up and peered over the fence, everything looked wrong.

Instead of our neighborhood, I saw a Martian landscape, just like the NASA photos. Except there was a Chipotle on a nearby hill. It was burning.

I asked my wife, “Did we always live on Mars?”


It’s my usual schtick -- surreal imagery hung on a pulp framework. The word “sci-fi” is in the title, but it’s not really science fiction, probably more like speculative fiction, magic realism, or some such conceit, but we’ll let future generations figure that out. 

You can enjoy the quick weird jolt without knowing whothehell Victor Theremin or Flash Gomez are, but if you’re curious you can investigate.

I do like the idea of putting stories on cups, bags, T-shirts, the social media and such. We writers are going to need to get creative as big time publishing heads for disaster.

Ernest Hogan encourages you to commit acts of  #LatinoStory4Chipotle. Watch for his on Facebook, Twitter, and Mondo Ernesto.

Symbols of Resistance. Latino Crime Fiction. New Theater. UndocuNation. Velásquez Reading.

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This week a quick roundup of a variety of upcoming events from one end of the country to the other - time is of the essence.


Latino Crime Writers Panel Reading and Discussion 

Book reading with Sergio Troncoso, Lyn Di Iorio and Richie Narvaez
Thursday, June 5, 6:00pm - 8:00pm

[from the bookstore website]
 
Mystery lovers, join us for readings by Sergio Troncoso, Lyn Di Iorio and Richie Narvaez. Troncoso reads from a 2014 revised and updated edition of The Nature of Truth, a novel about Helmut Sanchez, a young researcher at Yale, who discovers that his boss, a renowned professor, hides a Nazi past. Di Iorio is the author of the novel Outside the Bones and scholarly books on Caribbean literature and magical realism. Narvaez is the author of Roachkiller and Other Stories, which won an International Latino Book Award for Best eBook/Fiction.





La Casa Azul Bookstore143 E. 103rd Street
New York, NY 10029
(between Lexington & Park Ave,103rd St stop on the 6 train)

Phone: (212) 426 - 2626
General email: info.lacasaazul@gmail.com



 _______________________________________________________________________________

And Another Latino Crime Fiction Panel



[from the organizers of the event]

Come out to see some of the newest and hottest crime writers who just happen to be Latino. Lyn Di Iorio (Outside the Bones), R. Narvaez (Roachkiller and Other Stories), Alex Segura (Silent City), and Steven Torres (The Concrete Maze) will read from their works, discuss issues regarding writing and culture, and take questions from the audience.

The panel will take place Saturday, June 7, 7:00 p.m., at Enigma Bookstore, 33-17 Crescent Street, Astoria, New York 11106.

For more information: https://www.facebook.com/events/686467414742884

________________________________________________________________________________

Gloria Velásquez Reads and Signs From Her Latest Novel




La Bloga friend Gloria Velásquez signs and reads from her latest novel, Tommy Stands Tall, ninth installment in the Roosevelt High School series. Congrats to Gloria!

"This is a great story about a diverse group of students who decide to take a stand. ... I liked that the characters were culturally and racially diverse and the message is clear and positive. There is a need for stories about students of color, particularly Hispanic students, and this series fills that need." --Washington Young Adult Review Group


                                                 
[from publicity for the event] 

Internationally acclaimed author Gloria L. Velásquez will autograph her newest novel, Tommy Stands Tall, on Saturday, May 31st from 2-3 pm at Barnes and Noble in San Luis Obispo. Tommy Stands Tall is the sequel to Tommy Stands Alone, which made national headlines when it was banned in Colorado.

For further information about the author and recent speaking engagements:

1. Colorado State University Cesar Chavez Day Lecture (http://www.today.colostate.edu/story.aspx?id=8377)
2. NPR Interview (http://app1.kuhf.org/articles/1386612551-Arte-Público-Author-of-the-Month-Dr.-Gloria-Velasquez.html)
3. My Life Journey: From the Farmworkers Fields to Stanford University Lectures (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KIv_GFk3LSc)
4. Gloria L. Biography (http://gloriavelasquez.com/author.html)


________________________________________________________________________________


40th Anniversary of Los Seis de Boulder: A Commemoration of the Martyrs of the Chican@ Movement in Colorado


[from the event website]

Join us for the commemoration of the Symbols of Resistance as we pay homage to the martyrs of the Chican@ Movement in Colorado. May 2014 will mark the 40th anniversary of the deaths of Los Seis de Boulder, six student and community activists who were killed in two separate car bombings in Boulder, Colorado. We must remember those who sacrificed their lives fighting for social justice, and continue the struggle. Our nine martyrs include Ricardo FalcónLuis “Jr” MartinezCarlos Zapata and Los Seis de Boulder (Una JaakolaFrancisco DoughteryFlorencio GranadoNeva RomeroReyes Martinez and Heriberto Teran). 

Guests of Honor
The program will include a live roundtable discussion with the following speakers:
Dr. Priscilla Falcón | Debra Espinosa | Rafael Cancel Miranda | Kathleen Cleaver | Lenny Foster | Michael Deutsch | Ray Luc Levasseur

Su Teatro | 721 Santa Fe Drive | Denver, Colorado
Event from 5pm-9pm, May 31 | Pre-event activities begin at 3pm | Free to the public

_____________________________________________________________________________




  • Thursday, Friday, Saturday at 7:30p.m.
  • Matinee Sunday, June 29 at 2:00p.m.
  • Tickets: $20/General $17/Students and Seniors $12/ Comadre Docena
  • 2-4-1 Thursday when you ask for the discount!
  • Su Teatro | 721 Santa Fe Drive | Denver, Colorado
_____________________________________________________________________________








[from the event website]

This traveling arts festival and workshop series will feature local and national visual artists, performers, organizers and advocates to uplift migrant stories and speak out against unjust policies and practices that discriminate against LGBTQ communities and people of color.

Both days of this multidisciplinary, free event are open to all community members and will feature performances, art installations, and workshops featuring leaders and artists engaged in social and racial justice activism.

Friday, May 30 at 7:00 p.m. — Free art show and performances

An artist showcase and concert will feature visual and performances artists from Atlanta and across the nation, including an all-star band featuring Ceci Bastida, formerly of Tijuana No!; Raul Pacheco, of Grammy-winning Ozomatli; and Shawn King, of Grammy-nominated DeVotchka.

Saturday, May 31 at 9:00 a.m. – 4:30 p.m. —Free art and organizing workshops

Simultaneous English/Spanish interpretation will be provided.

UndocuNation is rooted in the conviction that art, music and creativity can transform the debate around immigration. UndocuNation seeks to uplift creative activism and provide communities with the tools to address threats to civil liberties at the intersection of our nation’s most pressing social justice issues. Art and culture, together with community organizing, is a powerful vehicle to advance the rights of marginalized people and diminish the impact of discriminatory activity at the local level. History shows that when culture changes, politics follow.


Later.

Whiteness of Santa Barbara shooting. SciFi gags on diversity. BookCon diversity. A Chicano teen does great.

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The real question about Santa Barbara killings?

About the shootings, here's Chauncey DeVega:
"As I often ask, what shall we do with the white people? When an entire social structure has been erected to reinforce the lie that white folks are "normal", and those "Others" are "deviant" or "defective," it can be very difficult to break out of that haze of denial. Such an act requires a commitment to truth-telling and personal, critical, self-reflection that Whiteness, by definition, denies to most of its owners

"White privilege and Whiteness hurts white people. Aggrieved white male entitlement syndrome is killing white folks' children, wives, daughters, sons, fathers, and mothers. Yet, White America stands mute. Again, what shall we do with the white people...especially if they are so unwilling to help themselves?"

Chauncey might also have asked, when will the white people start taking care of themselves? If you have an answer for her, let her know.


Diversity breaking into more lit cons

Author Matt de la Peña put out a call for people attending BookCon to join a discussion today, Saturday. Your voice and input are needed.

Saturday, May 31, 10:00 am - 11:00 am, Room 1E02
Speakers: Aisha Saeed, Ellen Oh, Grace Lin, I.W. Gregorio, Jacqueline Woodson, Lamar Giles, Marieke Nijkamp, Matt de la Peña, Mike Jung
 
Description:After taking the Internet by storm, the #WeNeedDiverseBooks campaign is moving forward with brand new initiatives to continue the call for diversity in children’s literature. Join the WNDB team as they share highlights of their campaign, discuss the success of grassroots activism, highlight diverse books and how everyone can diversify their shelves and talk next steps for the campaign. 

Speaking of #WeNeedDiverseBooks, the postings of Cultivating Invisibility: Chipotle's Missing Mexicans are still cooking plenty of menudo picoso. Read and join them.


Damien Walter puts it to the SciFi/Fantasy moguls

How some feel about diversity entering the SF/F world
Latino and other voices in SciFi and fantasy lit raising questions of white privilege, exclusion of minorities and an end to non-diversity seem to be gaining ground. So much so, that a backlash arose around the Hugo awards for best fantasy and sci-fi this year. Here's some of Damien Walter's explanation about this in his piece, Science fiction's real-life war of the worlds.

"For many years, a very particular and very narrow set of authors has dominated SF. But battle for a broader fictional universe is under way. It is no coincidence that, just as it outgrows its limiting cultural biases, science fiction should also face protests from some members of the predominantly white male audience who believed it to be their rightful domain. What the conservative authors protesting the Hugo awards perceive as a liberal clique is simply science fiction outgrowing them, and their narrow conception of the genre's worth.

"The real prize for science fiction is not diversity for diversity's sake (although I happen to believe that would be prize enough). We live in a world of seven billion human beings, whose culture has not been reflected or rewarded in 'the mainstream'. Science fiction – from cult novels that reach a few thousand readers, to blockbuster movies and video games that dominate contemporary culture – has the potential to talk across every remaining boundary in our modern world. That makes it, in my opinion, potentially the most important cultural form of the 21st century. To claim that potential, it cannot afford to give way to the petulant protests of boys who do not like to share their toys."

Read the rest of his piece about this "conspiracy theory" and its losing backers. If you're progressive, you'll love it.


Only 1 of a new species

And you gotta love this kid. An inspiration from the Denver Postthis week: "Xiuhtezcatl Roske-Martinez from Boulder, Colo., is only 14 years old, but already he's a seasoned superstar in the world of political and environmental activists. He has given TED talksabout his work as a leader of Earth Guardians, a worldwide organization of conservation-minded children and young adults. Last fall, he was invited to speak about the global water crisis at the United Nations. His What the Frackhip-hop video, a catchy anti-fracking song, has more than 2,000 views.

By age 12, Roske-Martinez had organized more than 35 rallies and protests. He helped stop the use of pesticides in city parks, and was among the fiercest advocates for a fee on plastic bags. His was a key voice in a project to contain coal ash, and to end a 20-year contract with Xcel Energy, allowing the city to pursue renewable energy as its primary resource.

His passions include hip-hop, participating in the annual sacred running relay from the Hopi reservation to Mexico, the current Earth Guardian campaign (a tree-planting project in 20 countries) and the summer Earth Guardian campaign to clean and protect potable water.

"This year, we're focusing on protecting one of the four elements every three months. The first quarter, it was Earth, and we did tree-planting. This summer, it will be water, and a group of 500-plus kids in Togo, Africa, will focus on that. This is about us saving the world for ourselves. I share facts about our environmental and climate- change crises. We are fighting for the survival of our generation and the health of the waters, the air, our community. We are fighting for kids everywhere."

Read all about him and forward the Earth Guardians' address to any kids you know. They'll decide what to do with it. And their planet.

HINT: To read the Denver Post article, as soon as the title appears, click the Stop Loading button. They want you to pay a buck, and will block you from it.

Es todo, hoy,
RudyG
a.k.a. Rudy Ch. Garcia
http://www.discarded-dreams.com/

Rare opportunity for Latino writers with a short spec novel

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[La Bloga's regular Sunday columnists might not post today, due to other commitments.] 

 

Writers don't always know how long a story will end up. Sometimes what you thought would become a novel turns out shorter, like into a novella, or doesn't meet the minimal-length guidelines for a novel. And the market for short novels is more restricted than for novels.

 

I wrote one with a super title--The Enigma of the Grandest Gardener of Texcoco--that no matter what I did, would NOT grow any bigger than 20,000 words. For me, and those of you with a work of about that range, here's a chance to maybe get it published with a big press. Begun as an on-line and digital publisher, this is their first venture into print publications, and they state they encourage submissions from Latinos and others (the "underrepresented"). They have digitally published stories by Adam Troy-Castro and Daniel José Older, and stories with Latino characters, like Loco by Rudy Rucker. Here's the information:

 

Tor.com Imprint Submissions Guidelines

Posted on: May 29, 2014

The following guidelines outline how to submit fiction to Tor.com: The Imprint. They are different than submissions guidelines for Tor.com's short fiction program and Tor.com's non-fiction/blog submissions.

We will consider unsolicited, un-agented submissions for the next three months and will close submissions at the end of August. We are accepting agented submissions throughout this period.

What we're looking for: complete, original science fiction and fantasy stories of 17,500 words or more, with a preference for novellas and short novels. We are seeking stories with commercial appeal that take advantage of the particular strengths of the novella and short novel formats. We aim to publish titles in the adult marketplace, but will consider young adult submissions.

Ideal submissions will benefit from the careful and interesting world-creation that is the domain of the novel and the concise focus on language and emotion that the novella demands. We do not accept works that have been previously published elsewhere, works that fall below the specified word length, or works not identifiable as fantasy or science fiction.

Tor.com graphic from Daniel José Older story
We encourage submissions by writers from underrepresented populations. This includes but is not limited to writers of any race, gender, sexual orientation, religion, nationality, class, and ability, as well as characters and settings that reflect these experiences.

How to submit: Submissions should be emailed to carlDOTengle-laird AT tor DOT com. They should be in something approximating standard manuscript format and be sent as .doc, .docx, .rtf, or plain-text attachments. They should not be sent as plain text in the body of an email. Please send a ten-page sample for shorter novels. For serializations, please provide a synopsis of the overarching plot and a plan for the development of your work in each serial part.

Put SUB: at the start of your subject line. While we are very excited about unsolicited submissions, and have had excellent luck with acquiring unsolicited submissions for Tor.com’s shorter fiction program, please understand that we expect the majority of our catalogue to come from agented submissions. We do not accept multiple or simultaneous submissions.

We can find out how open Tor.com is to Latinos, blacks and indios, by submitting our stories to them. Vamos a ver. I would suggest you prep your MS pronto, before August, and get it in because their list will get filled.

Es todo, hoy,
RudyG
a.k.a. author Rudy Ch. Garcia

Chale con Chipotle: A Few Smoking Thoughts

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Olga García Echeverría

The truth is, we're too good for Chipotle. I'm referring to the “fancy” Mexican fast food chain, not the actual chile that has long been hijacked. That chile is still delicious, and it has its roots in indigenous Mexico.

Originally from the Nahuatl, chi (for chile) and potle (for smoking). Chiptole literally means el chile que humea or smoking-hot chile.

More and more I've been thinking that the kind of literature I want to see cultivated is so smoking hot that it would never appear on a corporate cup. I'm thinking of something short and queer, like an excerpt from tatiana de la tierra's poem “Queer it Up” (from her chapbook tierra 2010: poems, songs & a little blood)


I have a queer dream
or should I say, a queer reality
I am in a circle of queers
we are queering in the rain
parading in a queer-nival
doing queer-gonomic things
drinking queer beer
bar-b-queering with our friends
playing a street queer named desire
publishing with queer-laca press
researching the art of in-queery
documenting a tale of queer cities
traveling to the queer-ebbean
settling in nova-squeer-tia
tucking our toddlers into bed:
twinkle twinkle litte queer


forni-queering, like I said, then announcing it
I'm queering, I'm queering

we're commie queers
camouflage queers
quantum queers
coatlique queers
queering the canon
getting pedi-queers
deep-fried queers
going for a swim in lake queerie
knowing that the grass is always greener on the queer side
and that all the good stories begin like this:
it was a dark and querry night

Yeah, that (even with its exclusion of cunt words) is way too queer for a Chipotle cup. Just like a short, powerful excerpt from Our Word is Our Weapon would be way too political. I'm thinking of these particular poetic words by Subcomandante Marcos:


Can I speak? Can I speak about our dead at this celebration? After all, they are the ones who made it possible. Can someone say that we are here because they are not? Is that permitted?

I have a dead brother. Is there someone here who doesn’t have a dead brother? I have a dead brother. He was killed by a bullet to his head. It was before dawn on the 1st of January, 1994. Way before dawn the bullet that was shot. Way before dawn the death that kissed the forehead of my brother. My brother used to laugh a lot but now he doesn't laugh any more. I couldn't keep my brother in my pocket, but I kept the bullet that killed him. On another day before dawn I asked the bullet where it came from. It said: From the rifle of a soldier of the government of a powerful person who serves another powerful person who serves another powerful person who serves another in the whole world. The bullet that killed my brother has no nationality.

The fight that must be fought to keep our brothers with us, rather than the bullets that have killed them, has no nationality either. For this purpose we Zapatistas have many big pockets in our uniforms. Not for keeping bullets. For keeping brothers.

And if you like it extra spicy, here's a smoking hot link to this excerpt read by political prisoner Mumia Abu Jamal (from the Big Noise film Zapatista)





Yeah, those words would never ever show up on a Chipotle cup. I guess my question is what's so hot about Chipotle? So they have a Cultivating Thought literary cosa where they (oops) forgot about the Mexicans. What's new? Chipotle is just a microcosm of this country's tendency to make money off “Lo Mexicano” and simultaneously “F” the Mexican. I do find it insulting, ironic, and very telling that they excluded Mexicans/Latinos from their literary project (and I don't buy that our writers are so scant that they are impossible to find), but in the end, I don't need Chipotle para nada. I can cultivate my own critical and literary thoughts. I love Toni Morrison, but I don't have to go to Chipotle to read her, and because I grew up in a Mexican family where my parents and later my siblings and I cooked regularly, I can make my own damn burrito at home and trust me, it will be better than anything Chipotle can mass produce.

Chicaninas y Chicaninos N’Asturies

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By Xanath Caraza

Santiago Vazquez-Vaquera, Xanath Caraza and Daniel Chacon


A marvelous group of Chican@ scholars, writers, poets, artists and friends gathered for the 9th International Conference on Chicano Literature: Cityscapes: Urban and Human Cartographies in Chicano/a Literature,at the University of Oviedo, Asturias in Spain from May 28 – 30, 2014. Here are three perspectives del congreso accompanied by a series of photos of this incredible event, in addition to more photos of Casa América, Alcalá de Henares and Asturias la profunda.


Coffee Break Chicano Style in Oviedo, Asturias, Spain.  IX Congreso Internacional de Literatura Chicana
Cartografías urbanas y humanas en la literatura chicana




Casa América

María Herrera, moderador, Lucha Corpi and
Francisco Lomelí


Un día antes del congreso, el 27 de mayo en Madrid, tuve la oportunidad de escuchar a Lucha Corpi, a María Herrera y a Francisco Lomelí en la Casa América para la presentación, ‘Cultura y Sociedad en las Letras Hispanas’. ¡Qué afortunada poder ver a tan importantes pilares de la literatura Chicana juntos!



En la terraza




9thInternational Conference on Chicano Literature: Cityscapes: Urban and Human Cartographies in Chicano/a Literature






Chacón on Oviedo
By Daniel Chacón


Universida de Oviedo


I remember when I first got involved with the Chicano Movement, the Spaniards were vilified, at least on the level of rhetoric. Spaniards were the oppressor, the ones who robbed us of our indigenous values, language, and way of life.We didn’t want to go back to Spain, we wanted to reclaim Aztlán.

Of course, we don't feel that way anymore about Spaniards, but that's the way it used to be.
Yet in Oviedo, Spain last week, a bunch of Chicanos were welcome into the city by Spanish hosts, and for three days we occupied the halls of the university. We were writers and scholars from the United States and Mexico, and together we shared our stories, our research, and our ideas about what we love the most, Chicano-Chicana literature.

And it wasn’t just Chicanos who are interested in the literature. There were professors of Chicano-Chicana literature from Spain and Italy and all over the world.

I’m talking about the 9th Annual Conference on Chicano Literature and Latino Studies, which took place this year in Oviedo, a beautiful city in the north of Spain, surrounded by verdant mountains topped with mist. In the past, this conference has taken place in other cities around Spain, including Toledo, and next year it will be held in Madrid.

It's essentially Chicanos getting together with Spaniards and others to talk about Chicano-Chicana literature, to present papers, present readings, and to exchange research, ideas, and suggestions as to the state of our literature and culture.

It was amazing to see how many people all over the world are interested in what we write.
I was honored to be a part of this conference, presenting a story from my book Hotel Juárez: Stories Rooms and Loops. I spoke about the border, El Paso and Ciudad Juárez, and how living in such a dynamic place cannot help but influence what and how I write.

One of the panels I attended was on translating Gloria E. Anzaldúa, with Norma E. Cantu, Xanath Caraza and Zaccaria Paola, an Italian scholar of Chicana literature. They talked about the challenges of translating her language, her Spanglish, her tejana into Mexican Spanish, Castilian and Italian. One scholar of Chicana literature from Germany spoke out about the challenge she faced translating Anzaldúa into German.

Now that I know about this conference, I want to go every year. In fact, next year I'm going to propose a panel on emerging Chicano-Chicana writers. One of the things I noticed about this panel is that almost everybody who participated has participated in the past. Everyone seemed to refer to previous conferences, the last time they saw each other all together, but this was the first I've ever heard of it, thanks to my Caraza.

Now that I know about it, I want to encourage other creative writers to propose panels for next year’s gathering.

I don’t know much of the conference’s history, but it seems that it has traditionally been mostly scholars of Chicano-Chicana literature. They present papers and research, but there seems to be some shift to include creative writers doing readings, like me and Xanath Caraza, who read from her latest book Lo QueTrae La Marea.

In another panel I attended, there was a reading by LuchaCorpi from her latest book called Confessions of a Book Burner, and the scholar María Herrera-Sobek shared some of her unpublished poems.

Because the creative writers are firmly a part of this gathering, the poets, the fiction writers, the memoirists, we should all propose panels for next year’s conference in Madrid. It could be like the Chicano AWP.

Daniel Chacón, Chicanino N'Asturies
 




 Some Thoughts/Reflections/Locuras on This Recent Conference on Chicano/a Literature
By Santiago Vazquez-Vaquera

1. Every two years, this conference has been hosted by a different Spanish university. The first was in Granada, this was then followed by: Vittoria, Málaga, Sevilla, Alcalá de Henares, Alicante, León, Toledo, and, this year, Oviedo. In two years, the congreso will be in Madrid.

2. I've participated in every conference since Vittoria, fourteen years ago. That was one of my first trips to Spain and I remember flying into Madrid, going to Chamartín train station, and buying a ticket for the first train going to Vittoria. It was a regional train, slow, uncomfortable seats, no cafeteria car, and stopping in every town on the way. There was nobody else in my car. At some point I fell asleep and dreamed I was on an interminable trip heading somewhere unknown. When I woke up, I was still on the train, alone, and heading to someplace unknown.

3. Vittoria was a lot of fun, however, and along with seeing friends I knew already, it started my close relationships with a number of faculty working on Chicano/a culture in Spain. The best part of the days I spent there were the conversations in bars and café's in the city, the epic walks that Rolando Hinojosa-Smith and I used to take —something we used to do back in Austin when I was living there, and in whatever European city we found ourselves—, and the trip Rolando, Klaus, and I took to Bilbao to meet with a student working on his work and then a quick walk around the Guggenheim museum.

4. The first time I presented creative work was at the Alicante conference when a last minute panel was arranged for Alejandro Morales, Charli Valdez, and me. Though the conference had originally been conceived as a meeting between writers and critics, by Alicante the readings had largely fallen off the program in favor of more formal scholarly talks. Fortunately, things have improved since then.

5. In Toledo, two years ago, I proposed a panel of writers that was made up of Charli, Stephanie Elizondo Griest, and me. It was a lot of fun and Stephanie and I began to plan for the next one.

6. Though Stephanie, in the end, was unable to make it to Oviedo, this year's panel was made up of Xanath Caraza, Levi Romero, and me. Though we were placed at 9 am on Thursday, it was still well attended. Xanath blew the crowd away with her wonderful and evocative poetry, I was going to read a new story but opted for three short pieces —one from my new book, one that I wrote years ago and haven't read for more than a decade, and one that I last read at an event in Barcelona in 2008—, and Levi brought the room down with his poetry of remembrances to his heroes, to those "easy nights," and to his community. It was an honor to have our panel moderated by Lucha Corpi, and to have in attendance two writers who I consider inspirations, Tino Villanueva, and Norma Elia Cantu.

7. As with all the other conferences, the best part was the conversations in the streets, in the bars, and in the walks. For three days, Chicanas and Chicanos took the streets of Oviedo. It was great to hang out with those friends who I've had the honor of spending time with over these last fourteen years of Chicano conferences in Spain: with Alejandro Morales, with Norma, with Manolo, with Lomelí and Herrera-Sobek, with Imelda, Amaia, and Antonieta.

Fantasmas


8. It was great to spend time again with Xánath, and to finally meet Daniel Chacón in person —though we'd met virtually here on feisbúc a year ago. That Thursday night we spent wandering from place to place as we talked and joked about everything and nothing, was memorable. Though we were unable to make it to the Woody Allen statue that night —being stopped first by a group of guys from Sevilla who wanted a photo with some women they met, then by Xánath who just stopped and announced she was tired—, I was glad that Chacón was able to get to it the next day.

9. Xánath was everywhere on the conference program, presenting on three panels. The panel she had with Chacón on Friday was beautiful. In the dimly lit room, she read from her collection of short stories, followed by Daniel who spoke on his life, on writing, on the energy that connects, and then concluded with a story from his book, Hotel Juárez (that I still have to get).

10. The train back from Oviedo was long, but it passed quickly as Chacón and I met for a drink in the café car, we were soon joined by John who brought a picnic of paté, jamón, cheese and bread, along with wine and aguardiente. With the passing landscape of Castilla-León, we talked about comedy, about writing, about our lives back home. Estivaliz, a grad student who had presented on Tim Z's book joined us. After John and Daniel headed back to their seats to get their stuff —they were getting off in Madrid—, she and I had coffee and watched as the train approached the tall towers of Madrid. Afterwards, I returned to my seat to read and do some work. My car was full and as the train raced south across the campos de Castilla-La Mancha at 248 kilometers/hour, I fell asleep.


Las Fotos del Congreso


By Xánath, Chicanina N’Asturies

Mi sorpresa aumentó cuando al llegar a la estación de tren, en Madrid para salir a Oviedo, me di cuenta que íbamos juntos María Herrera, Francisco Lomelí, Virginia y yo en el mismo tren.  No tan sólo ellos sino también Santiago Vazquez-Vaquera, Lucha Corpi, Carlos, Alejandro Morales y Santa Barraza.  Un sentimiento de complicidad académica y artística comenzó a inundarme desde ese momento hasta el final de la conferencia e incluso ahora, Chicaninas y Chicaninos N’Asturies, Chicanas and Chicanos in Asturias.

A continuación una serie de fotografías de mi estancia en Oviedo.

En el tren



 
En el tren



II Galardón D. Luis Leal: María Herrera.  Presented by José Antonio Gurpegui, President of HispaUSA


Tino Villanueva


Norma Cantu



Lucha Corpi


Art by Santa Barraza


Levi Romero


Carlos, Lucha Corpi, Maria Herrera, Francisco Lomeli, Xanath Caraza, Virginia, Santiago Vazquez-Vaquera & Alejandro Morales


Paraguas rojo



Alcalá de Henares

Este 2014 he tenido el honor de recibir la beca Nebrija que el Instituto Franklin da cada dos años a un investigador o escritor.  Personalmente estoy trabajando en mi segundo volumen de relatos y algunos proyectos más.  Comparto con ustedes algunas fotos de mi oficina en la sala de investigadores de la Universidad de Alcalá de Henares.














El Coloquio de los Perros

Adriana Manuela quien vive en Puente Genil, Córdoba, España ha creado una serie de pinturas para algunos de mis poemas.  La revista literaria El Coloquio de los perros, dirigida por el poeta Juan de Dios García, ha publicado una serie de cinco poemas con sus respectivas pinturas por Adriana Manuela.  Hagan click en el enlace para ver esta magnífica publicación en la prestigiosa revista literaria, El Coloquio de los Perros.




Asturias la profunda

Después de Oviedo he tenido la oportunidad de conocer un poco más a fondo la región de Asturias.  Asturias es una región verde del norte de España, llena de magia, gente alegre, comida deliciosa, ríos por todas partes e influencia celta.  Voy a dejar que las fotos hablen por sí  mismas.  Gracias, Miguel Rollón, Daniel Carballo y María Edelmira Pérez Álvarez por el entusiasmo, música, cariño y hospitalidad en los alrededores de Nava, Asturias.  Poetas a quienes conocí en el XI Festival Internacional de Poesía Ciudad de Granada hace un par de semanas. ¡Puxa Asturies! 












Summer reading starts here. The Gluten-free Chicano. On-line Floricanto.

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Review:  Linda Rodriguez. Every Hidden Fear. NY: Minotaur Books, 2014.
ISBN 978-1250049155

Michael Sedano

Something there is that does not love a Summer Book. The intent grad student with one hundred years of novels to read by September. The television programmer who wants you to sit open-mouthed in the dark watching re-runs. The curmudgeon who wants no one to have any fun and sneers at “genre fiction.”

Those tipos don’t love a Summer Book.

But grad students can use a break. Re-runs, give me a break. Curmudgeons will refuse to have fun, even with the kind of book tolerant gente want to read cover to cover--non-stop si se puede and the phone is Off.

When you pick up a Summer Book you intend to be happily absorbed by cool characters in rip-roaring stories. While you don’t intend to take notes you dog-ear provocative, memorable, artful passages where the author’s having lots of fun, too. In short, you intend to be entertained, and that’s what’s in store from Every Hidden Fear by Linda Rodriguez.

Rodriguez writes like she’s enjoying herself. Lavishing pages to develop a hateful asshole character who deserves to be dead, introducing detective Skeet Bannion and various residents of a small Missouri town threatened by real estate moguls from nearby Kansas City, killing him takes a while. Then the author kills the jerk with gruesome excess. Justice requires Skeet Bannion to step up in the face of inept local policing.

Bannion comes with a history of hair-raising times in cases sketchily alluded in passing detail. In fact, Every Hidden Fear will motivate readers to seek out Linda Rodriguez’ two earlier Skeet Bannion novels, Every Last Secret and Every Broken Trust. The Cherokee connection adds a unique resource to the character’s potential.

The detective’s a real-looking character, not some hot chick but plain old her. But there’s something about Skeet that has the local cop and a big muscular vato sniffing around. Skeet says it’s not important, keeps her nose to the grindstone as compense for no sex “in a while.”

Everyone else is hooking up. The little town has lots of good-looking women, old and young, who fell for the young heartthrob who left town and a knocked-up beauty behind. When the appropriately named Ash returns as front man for the mall developer, he threatens to name names. He claims fatherhood of the son in a public cuckolding of teenager’s father. He lives up to his name, ash-hole.

Skeet's teenager finds himself in a love triangle between the railroaded suspect, a teen heart throb girl, and himself. The girl lives with an evil stepmother, the one who gleefully describes Skeet’s beauty faults. The evil stepmother is hooking up with Ash’s rich, evil employer, himself a rapist.

What a suspect list. "Joe, you've got a strong suspect in Peter…Bea was most likely sexually involved with Ash when he was a kid…Walker was furious with Ash for causing all this trouble".

No spoilers here. Summer reads are supposed to be fun and Linda Rodriguez has enough formula to keep the pages flying by. There’s romance, intrigue, back-biting, crummy people you can’t do anything about. And there are serious issues like senior abuse versus senior love, steamroller economic development, growing up.

Rodriguez weaves a lament for hometowns throughout the book, in frequent references to passing trains, and walking. Trains become particularly potent. Every chapter carries at least one instance where Skeet hears a train rumbling through town. The motif becomes eccentric, noticed. It’s a set-up.

 “You noticed?” the author seems to say, having fun, when she has the failing cop, Joe, make her point about disappearing hometown economies. “Wish they hadn’t destroyed the trains. America’s railroads were the envy of the world, but we gutted them, and now can’t get to most places in this country by train. Damn shame!” I dog-eared that page.

With summer’s slower pace and vacation time, a Summer Book fills the leisure time need for fun, entertainment, and every now and again, something to make you sit up and take notice. Turn off teevee. Take a break. There’s a lot to “genre” writing that deserves attention. A good start in 2014’s Summer Book list is Linda Rodriguez’ Skeet Bannion novel, Every Hidden Fear.


The Gluten-free Chicano Cooks
Gluten-free Breakfast Crepe

Crunchy peanut butter and maple syrup wait on the table for the morning’s sweet beginning. You can prepare bacon, weenies, or ham in advance. These delectable delights cook in about five minutes, and you can turn out a batch of these in a short time.

This recipe makes a thin batter that spreads to fill a cooking surface. Two eggs create a creamy texture. Enhanced with sour cream and equal portions flour and milk, the batter cooks into a thin, flexible pancake you can use as a dinner entrée, a breakfast treat, or a quick merienda when the occasion fits.

Breakfast Crepe
Serves two or more, half hour refrigerator to table.

Two eggs
¼ cup King Arthur gluten-free flour
Pinch baking soda
Pinch baking powder
Vanilla or other flavoring to taste
¼ cup milk
1 tbs sour cream
greased non-stick frying pan, hot

Hold the Vanilla when you plan a savory filling like garlic butter. Look for The Gluten-free Chicano's Garlic Crepe in a future La Bloga.






Beat the eggs frothy with the dry ingredients and vanilla. Then add the flour and incorporate it into the eggs.


Whip in a tablespoon of sour cream. Be vigorous but don't mind a smattering of white spots where you didn't get all the sour cream into the mixture. You could substitute melted butter.


A non-stick surface is essential. Ladle a small amount into a hot pan, just enough to cover the bottom. Hot means the flame touches the bottom of the pan and nearly smokes. Let the crepe bubble before turning.


If you're good, flip the pan. I use a spatula, tilt the pan and delicately flip over. Don't worry about liquid; lift the crepe and let the liquid slide under then flip the crepe atop that.


The dappled surface indicates a hot surface. This thin batter cooks quickly once turned, half a minute or less.


The eggy batter is rich and flexible. The pockets formed on this side capture fillings if served this side up, or rolled with the outer side the first pour.




On-line Floricanto
Frank de Jesus Acosta, Xico González, John Martinez, Fernando Rodriguez, Francisco X. Alarcón


Maya's Gift (Honoring Maya Angelou) 
by Frank de Jesus Acosta

Today a poet became her poems
Soulful songs of the caged bird
Child of Africa, cradle of humankind
Legacy of slavery, an American anathema
Inheritance of hope, spiritual defiance
Heart of conviction, defying abhorrent hate
Unbroken by bigotry, sexism, or poverty
Claiming the inalienable ways of love
Walking a life of advocacy, sovereignty
Inspiring women to rise in inherent divinity
Admonishing men to live in fullness of equality
Spirit pen of justice, revealing painful truth
Lies of history, dogma of tyranny, canons of greed
Envisioning a world with prose of possibility
Verses of healing for wounded generations
Women, mother, sister, friend, warrior shaman
Today you ascend, our guardian lyricist ancestor
Leaving us a literary legacy of eternal living words
Seeds of love; that the poem within us all may rise 

Poem by: Frank de Jesus Acosta



Original Dreamers
by Xico González

In the immigrants’ rights movement
often times we hear of the Dreamers
with their graduation gowns
fists in the air
and beautiful butterflies

Marchas, rallies and sit-ins
that lead to deportations
Sacrificios de sueños soñados

In senators’ offices
self-sacrificing dreamers
get arrested and deported
to prove a point:
the US immigration system is broken

For the dreamers,
la escuela o los guachos
Dos caminos
that end in papeles and green cards

Let me ask you a question,
what about the original dreamers?
Who speaks for them nowadays?

They have sueños too

Have we forgotten about the
padres, madres
hermanos y hermanas
that came to the US too old 
to go to school
or join the armed forces

They have sueños too

Pero le tubieron que chingar
In low paying jobs
como los files, la construcción, los hoteles,
rich people’s homes, and restaurants

You know the ones bumping
cumbias, norteñas, banda y racheras
in kitchens across the United States

The ones that yell,
“Apurate güey,”
“ya esta listo güey,”
“No mames güey,”

They have sueños too,

They dream that their children
will have a better life in this country
instead of discrimination and exploitation

They have sueños too

Migra raids at workplaces
that lead to deportations
Sacrificios de sueños soñados

For the original dreamers,
el trabajo y la explotación
Dos caminos
that end in fear and shadows

They have sueños too

Jesús
El jóven que trabaja en la construcción en la Bahía
has dreams too

María
La señora que cuida güeritos en Hollywood Hills
has dreams too

Jóse
El señor que trabaja en los files del Valle de San Joaquín
has dreams too

So let us help the original dreamers
dream their dreams of a better future
without the fear of being deported,
Exploited and used

Next time you hear of the Dreamers
think of their parents and siblings
because they share the same dream

They have sueños too.

© Xico González 
5/21/2014
C/S
I wrote this poem for the event "Filed Away: The Undocumented Experience," a conversation and exhibit sponsored by UCD SPEAK and the UCD Cross Culture Center.  The poem was inspired by two posters that I created for the 1ro de mayo: Dia del Trabajador Rally and Marcha in Sacramento.




I Love You Forever Olivia
by John Martinez

For my mother

It is not a dream, but a loop,
A replay of her breast falling
From my sleeping face

The dawn, the sycamore
In the window, her hand
Hushing my lips
When I cried out,
Squeezed between
Her soft folds

And time doesn't fade,
But lingers in the crevices,
Between sweat and laughter,
How she combed my hair,
With hands of pain and joy

No, the sky won’t bring
Her back, bundled
In wings, as promised,
No golden chalice
Pointing her path to me

She lives right here,
In the journey of my blood,
She will always be-

So when the wind smiles
Into my window,
With the fruit of her breath,
I will always say:

"I love you forever, Olivia"

© John Martinez
All Rights Reserved


Mother
by Fernando Rodriguez

A single human being
can take many jobs
can make many shifts
Vacations there's not 
Courageous, brave, strong 
Delicate to the touch 
Yet hard to the bone

A restless being
Night without sleep
Sacrifice all and all that she has
Kisses and love struggles and more
The hardest profession
The worst valued one
There's billions of women 
but mother just one 
A day in a year for sure it’s not fair
To thank all the efforts
And all that she cares
Thank You mother
Today in your day




AZUL SIN FRONTERAS                     BORDERLESS BLUE
por Francisco X. Alarcón                 by Francisco X. Alarcón


Via James Downs:

From a new book of bilingual eco-poems by Francisco X. Alarcón, Borderless Butterflies: Earth Haikus And Other Poems / Mariposas sin fronteras: Haikús terrenales y ottos poemas that will be published by Poetic Matrix Press in 2014.


BIOS
Frank de Jesus Acosta, Xico González, John Martinez, Fernando Rodriguez, Francisco X. Alarcón

Frank de Jesus Acosta is principal of Acosta & Associates, a California-based consulting group that specializes in professional support services to public and private social change ventures in the areas of children, youth and family services, violence prevention, community development, and cultural fluency. In 2007, he authored, The History of Barrios Unidos, Cultura Es Cura, Healing Community Violence, published by Arte Publico Press, University of Houston. Acosta is a graduate of University of California, Los Angeles (UCLA). His professional experience includes serving in executive leadership positions with The California Wellness Foundation, the Coalition for Humane Immigration Rights of Los Angeles (CHIRLA), Downtown Immigrant Advocates (DIA), the Center for Community Change, and the UCLA Community Programs Office. He is presently focused on completing the writing and publishing a two book series for Arte Publico Press focused on best practices to improve the well-being of Latino young men and boys. Acosta most recently co-authored a published “Brown Paper” with Jerry Tello of the National Latino Fatherhood and Family Institute (NLFFI) entitled, “Lifting Latinos Up by Their Rootstraps: Moving Beyond Trauma Through a Healing-Informed Framework for Latino Boys and Men.” Acosta provides writing and strategic professional support in research, planning, and development to foundations and community-focused institutions on select initiatives focused on advancing social justice, equity, and pluralism. He is also finalizing writing and editing a book of inter-cultural poetry and spiritual reflections.


Xico González is an educator, artist, poet, and a political and cultural activista based in Sacramento, California. He received a MA in Spanish from Sacramento State, and a MFA in Art Studio from the University of California at Davis.  González currently teaches Spanish and Art Studio at the Met Sacramento High School.
The work of Xico González seeks to empower people uniting in common cause against a common oppressor disguised in different máscaras.  Gonzalez's silkscreen posters address and support numerous political causes, such as the struggle for immigrants' rights, the Palestinian and Zapatista struggles, and the right for Chicana/o self determination.  González is not only an artist, but is also an activist/organizer that puts his artistic skills to the benefit of his community.  Xico's work contributes to the long dialogue of art, activism and the legacy of the Chicano Art Movement.  González has been influenced primarily by his mentors, Chicano artists Ricardo Favela (RIP), and Malaquías Montoya, and by early Chicano art collectives like the Mexican American Liberation Art Front (MALA-F), and the Rebel Chicano Art Front also known as the Royal Chicano Air Force (RCAF).


John Martinez studied Creative Writing at Fresno State University. He has published poetry in El Tecolote, Red Trapeze and The LA Weekly. Recently, he has posted poems on Poets Responding to SB1070 and this will be his fifth poem published in La Bloga. He has performed (as a musician/political activist, poet) with Teatro De La Tierra, Los Perros Del Pueblo and TROKA, a Poetry Ensemble (lead by poet Juan Felipe Herrera) and he has toured with several cumbia bands throughout the Central Valley and Los Angeles. For the last 17 years, he has worked as an Administrator for a Los Angeles Law Firm. He makes home in Upland, California with his beautiful wife, Rosa America y Familia.







My name is fernando Rodriguez and i decided to express myself in this poem as a gift for all the mothers because of what they do all year round. Writing gives me freedom and freedom gives me joy, joy gives me happiness and happiness is what we look for.









Francisco X. Alarcón, award winning Chicano poet and educator, was born in Los Angeles, grew up in Guadalajara, Mexico, and now lives in Davis, where he teaches at the University of California.  He is the author of thirteen volumes of poetry, including, Ce • Uno • One: Poems for the New Sun (Swan Scythe Press 2010), From the Other Side of Night: New and Selected Poems (University of Arizona Press 2002). He has two books poems coming out this year, Borderless Butterflies / Mariposas sin fronteras will be published by Fall 2014 by Poetic Matrix Press, and Canto hondo / Deep Song will be published by the University of Arizona Press at the end of 2014.
Francisco is also the author of four acclaimed books of bilingual poems from children on the seasons of the year originally published by Children Book Press, now an imprint of Lee & Low Books: Laughing Tomatoes and Other Spring Poems (1997), From the Bellybutton of the Moon and Other Summer Poems (1998), Angels Ride Bikes and Other Fall Poems (1999), Iguanas in the Snow and Other Winter Poems (2001). He has published two other bilingual books for children, Poems to Dream Together (2005) and Animal Poems of the Iguazú (2008). 
He has received numerous literary awards and prizes for his works, like the American Book Award, the Pen Oakland Josephine Miles Award, the Chicano Literary Prize, the Fred Cody Lifetime Achievement Award, the Jane Adams Honor Book Award, and several Pura Belpré Honor Awards by the American Library Association. He is the creator of the Facebook page, POETS RESPONDING TO SB 1070. 





New Children's Books from Piñata Books- Arte Público Press

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Dalia's Wondrous Hair/ El cabello maravilloso de Dalia

by Laura Lacámara

Spanish-language translation by Gabriela Baeza Ventura



ISBN:978-1-55885-789-6
Publication Date: May 31, 2014
Format: Hardcover
Pages: 32
Ages: 4-9

One night, while Dalia slept safely wrapped in her mother’s cool silken sheets, her hair grew and grew. By the time the rooster crowed, her hair had “grown straight up to the sky, tall and thick as a Cuban royal palm tree.” Her mother was amazed, and wondered what her daughter would do with her wondrous hair.
As Dalia looked at the flowers blooming in the garden, an idea sprouted inside her. She decorated her hair with leaves from the forest and mud from the marsh. Her mother was puzzled and could not imagine what she was. “Are you a leaf-crusted mud-tree?” she guessed incorrectly. That night, while Dalia slept safely cocooned in her mama’s sheets, something stirred and unfolded. When the rooster crowed, the girl ran outside and everyone watched in awe as she carefully unwrapped her towering hair. Could it be? Is Dalia a . . . blossoming butterfly tree?!?
In this whimsical bilingual picture book, Dalia’s hair becomes a magical force of nature, a life-giving cocoon. Author and illustrator Laura Lacámara once again delights children ages 4-9 with her vibrant illustrations and an imaginative story about a girl’s fanciful encounters with nature.
Bonus features include a guide for how to create your own butterfly garden at home, as well as a bilingual glossary of select plant and animal species native to the island of Cuba.

Dale, dale, Dale: Una fiesta de números/ Hit It, Hit It, Hit It: A Fiesta of Numbers

by René Saldaña, Jr.

Illustrations by Carolyn Dee Flores


ISBN: 978-1-55885-782-7
Publication Date: May 31, 2014
Format: Hardcover
Pages: 32
Ages: 4-8
“Today is my birthday, and I am so excited. / One piñata filled with candy. / Two hours until the party. / Three tables set for all of the guests.” Mateo counts to twelve as he anticipates the fun he’ll have at his party!
There will be family, friends and lots of goodies for the children: tops, marbles and even toy cars! But before the children can hit the piñata, they will sing the birthday boy a song and enjoy eating a delicious cake. And then Mateo will be “the happiest boy in the whole wide world,” because he gets to swing at the piñata first with everyone cheering him on: ¡Dale! ¡Dale! ¡Dale!
Acclaimed kids’ book author René Saldaña, Jr. creates another winner with his first picture book, illustrated in vibrant colors by Carolyn Dee Flores, for children ages 4-8. In this birthday-themed counting book, children will relish practicing their counting skills while dreaming about hitting a piñata at their very own fun-filled fiesta.

Cuento del conejo y el Coyote/Didxaguc’ sti’ Lexu ne Gueu’

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Review by Ariadna Sánchez
Juchitán de Zaragoza, Oaxaca is the home of poet Natalia Toledo and painter Francisco Toledo. Daughter and father bring the beauty of ancient oral Zapotec tales alive. Cuento del conejo y el Coyote/Didxaguc’ sti’ Lexu ne Gueu’ is written in Spanish and Didxazá, the language of the Zapotec people. Zapotecs located in the Isthmus of Tehuantepec pass to the young generations many traditions orally. Natalia Toledo grew up listening extraordinary stories from her relatives. Natalia Toledo’s poetic words portray the beauty of a community that fights to preserve its dynamic and colorful heritage. Francisco Toledo’s sublime artwork complements the tale of Rabbit and Coyote. Each page is an open invitation to discover the region of Tehuantepec. 

The tale of Rabbit and Coyote shows that “brains over brawn” is the key to remain safe when danger knocks on the door. Conejo steals chiles from the farmer’s orchard. The farmer decides to place a trap to catch Conejo for a succulent meal. The farmer’s plan succeeds! Rabbit is inside the cage ready to be cooked. Meanwhile, the farmer is preparing the ingredients for a delicious dish; Coyote passes by the helpless Conejo. At that moment, Conejo convinces Coyote to take his place arguing his immaturity to marry the farmer’s daughter. Conejo fools Coyote for the first time. As the tale continues, Conejo tricks Coyote for several occasions until Conejo finds a safe place in the moon. This explains why coyotes howl at the moon at night. Natalia and his father Francisco are fervent promoters of the Zapotec culture around the world. For more information about their work visit the following links:



Martín Espada's Tribute to Frank Espada

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Poet Martín Espada at the Tribute to Frank Espada 
El Puente, Brooklyn, May 17, 2014
(Photo credit: Fernan Luna)


El hijo de Frank

By: Martín Espada

Marge Piercy writes: Attention is love.

My father paid attention. This was the man who took me to Puerto Rico for the first time, who showed me Utuado, the mountain town of his birth, where his grandfather was the mayor. This was the man who took me to my first ballgame. This was the man who gave me my first book of poems, The Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám—along with a Playboy calendar. 

And I paid attention to him. I listened to him speak at a rally for Agropino Bonillo, a man with two jobs and nine kids, murdered in the streets of East New York.  I carried his camera bag as he aimed that camera at the tenants of a building torched by the landlord on the Upper West Side. My father was an intense, imposing figure, who made me laugh by crossing me up with his curveball. He was a genuine tough guy who fell into my arms, sobbing, after reading a poem I wrote for him.  I miss him very much.

He was a born teacher, who taught me right from wrong, who taught me how to think. If I demonstrate a fraction of his courage, his integrity, his creativity, his compassion, then I may do justice to his name.

Speaking of that name: I used to be el hijo de Frank. For many years, everywhere I went, whenever I spoke my name, I heard: Ah, el hijo de Frank! Then, years later, one day, it finally happened. My father introduced himself and heard: Ah, el padre de Martín!

I am here today to declare that I am, and always will be, el hijo de Frank.

When I was seven years old, my father disappeared.  He was jailed with other protestors from Brooklyn CORE demonstrating at the New York World’s Fair in 1964. Every day I would stare at his picture and cry. One day I was engaged in this ceremony when my father walked in the door.  I said: “I thought you were dead.”

At first he was amused; then he realized he would have to explain. He brought me to his headquarters at East New York Action on Blake Avenue, where I would sketch drawings of demonstrations on the blank side of flyers announcing those same demonstrations. I grew up with the spirit of resistance all around me. It was as natural as breathing.

I am almost fifty-seven years old—and the day I dreaded for fifty years is here. His great legacy, his Macchu Picchu, still stands, yet the builder is gone, like the builders of that Inca city, “the clay-colored hand…utterly changed into clay,” as Neruda put it. The words of Shakespeare also come to mind:  “We are such stuff
/As dreams are made on; and our little life/ Is rounded with a sleep.”

I keep hearing those words in my head, first mourning my father, and now mourning the man I considered my second father: Jack Agüeros.

How do we carry on the legacy of the generation now passing before our eyes?  We’ve heard about “The Greatest Generation,” mostly referring to white men who fought in World War II. For the Puerto Rican community, this was our Greatest Generation. They marched. They picketed. They organized rent strikes. They staged hunger strikes. They staged sit-ins. They went to jail. They went to jail again. They built schools and community centers. They took photographs, wrote poems and plays, painted and sang—but their activism was inseparable from their art.

This was my father’s advice to Los Seis del Sur, a group of Puerto Rican photographers documenting the South Bronx: “We need to raise some holy Hell, for we have landed at the bottom and stayed there.” For my father, raising hell was holy. His generation raised holy hell for us, for everyone in this room.  So please join me: Frank Espada: ¡Presente! Evelina Attonetty: ¡Presente! Jack Agüeros: ¡Presente!

Jack would write that my father “cried in the night when he couldn’t do more.”  What more could he do? The Puerto Rican Disapora Documentary Project.  Cornell Capa told my father: “Frank, no one wants to look at pictures of Puerto Ricans.”

Attention is love. My father paid attention. 

He gave our dehumanized community a human face. He saw the light in the landscape of those faces, and caught the light with his lens. Look at the pictures: those faces radiate dignity. He didn’t create the illusion of dignity; that dignity was there all along. He saw dignity in the faces of a mushroom worker, a fisherman, a gravedigger, an espiritista. He saw dignity in the faces of gang members and recovering heroin addicts. He saw dignity in the face of a man with two jobs and nine kids who would be butchered in the street. He saw dignity in the face of a man at a demonstration with a Puerto Rican flag.

Luis says: “Before the Young Lords, there was Frank Espada.”  Oh yes, the Puerto Rican community had a history before the Young Lords. We will have a history after the Young Lords.  We are the makers of that history. Like my father’s generation, we must be radical, even utopian.

Listen to Eduardo Galeano on utopianism:“She’s on the horizon…I go two steps closer, she moves two steps away. I walk ten steps and the horizon runs ten steps ahead. No matter how much I walk, I’ll never reach her. What good is utopia? That’s what: it’s good for walking.”

In 1949, Frank Espada was jailed in Biloxi, Mississippi for refusing to go to the back of the bus. Today, Jim Crow segregation is dead in the South, and a Black man is President of the United States. My father and his generation made the impossible possible, and we must do it again. Frank Espada has many sons and daughters in this room today. You are all los hijos de Frank.

He was a man who lived many lives. He died more than once—yet he always came back. He’s here right now.  


El Moriviví
            For Frank Espada (1930-2014)

The Spanish means: I died, I lived. In Puerto Rico, the leaves
of el moriviví close in the dark and open at first light.
The fronds curl at a finger’s touch and then unfurl again.
 My father, a mountain born of mountains, the tallest
Puerto Rican in New York, who scraped doorways,
who could crack the walls with the rumble of his voice,
kept a moriviví growing in his ribs. He would die, then live.

My father spoke in the tongue of el moriviví, teaching me
the parable of Joe Fleming, who screwed his lit cigarette
into the arms of the spics he caught, flapping like fish.
My father was a bony boy, the nerves in his back
crushed by the Aiello Coal and Ice Company, the load
he lifted up too many flights of stairs.  Three times
they would meet to brawl for a crowd after school.
The first time my father opened his eyes to gravel
and the shoes of his enemy. The second time he rose
and dug his arm up to the elbow in the monster’s belly,
so badly did he want to tear out the heart and eat it.
The third time Fleming did not show up, and the boys
with cigarettes burns clapped their spindly champion 
on the back, all the way down the street. Fleming would
become a cop, fired for breaking bones in too many faces.
He died smoking in bed, a sheet of flame up to his chin.

There was a moriviví sprouting in my father’s chest. He would die, 
then live.  He spat obscenities like sunflower seeds at the driver
who told him to sit at the back of the bus  in Mississippi, then
slipped his cap over his eyes and fell asleep. He spent a week in jail,
called it the best week  of his life, strode through the jailhouse door
and sat behind the driver of the bus on the way out of town,
his Air Force uniform all that kept the noose from his neck.
He would come to know the jailhouse again, among hundreds
of demonstrators ferried by police to Hart’s Island on the East River,
where the city of New York stacks the coffins of anonymous
and stillborn bodies. Here, Confederate prisoners once wept
for the Stars and Bars; now the prisoners sang Freedom Songs.
                                                                                                            
The jailers outlawed phone calls, so we were sure my father must be
a body like the bodies rolling waterlogged in the East River, till he came
back from the island of the dead,  black hair combed meticulously.
When the riots burned in Brooklyn night after night, my father
was a peacemaker on the corner with a megaphone.  A fiery
chunk of concrete fell from the sky and missed his head by inches. 
My mother would tell me: Your father is out dodging bullets.
He spoke at a rally with Malcolm X, incantatory words
billowing through the bundled crowd, lifting hands and faces.
Teach, they cried. My father clicked a photograph of Malcolm
as he bent to hear a question, finger pressed against the chin.
Two months later the assassins stampeded the crowd
to shoot Malcolm, blood leaping from his chest as he fell.
My father would die too, but then he would live again,
after every riot, every rally, every arrest, every night in jail,
the change from his pockets landing hard on the dresser
at 4 AM every time I swore he was gone for good.

My father knew the secrets of el moriviví, that he would die,
then live. He drifted off at the wheel, drove into a guardrail,
shook his head and walked away without a web of scars
or fractures. He passed out from the heat in the subway,
toppled onto the tracks, and somehow missed the third rail.
He tied a white apron across his waist to open a grocery store,
pulled a revolver from the counter to startle the gangsters
demanding protection, then put up signs for a clearance sale
as soon as they backed out the door with their hands in the air.
When the family finally took a vacation in the mountains
of the Hudson Valley, a hotel with waiters in white jackets
and white paint peeling in the room, the roof exploded
in flame, as if the ghost of Joe Fleming and his cigarette
trailed us everywhere, and it was then that my  father
appeared in the smoke, like a general leading the charge
in battle, shouting commands at the volunteer fire company, 
steering the water from the hoses, since he was immune
to death by fire or water, as if he wore the crumbled leaves
of el moriviví in an amulet slung around his neck.

My brother called to say el moriviví was gone. My father tore
at the wires, the electrodes, the IV, saying that he wanted
to go home.  The hospital was a jailhouse in Mississippi.
The furious pulse that fired his heart in every fight flooded
the chambers of his heart. The doctors scrutinized the film,
the grainy shadows and the light, but could never see: my father
was a moriviví. I died. I lived. He died. He lived. He dies. He lives.


Moriviví: Mimosa Pudica or "bashful plant," native to the Caribbean. 
It folds inward when touched, unfolding after a short while.
[Watch the Moriviví]








Santa Barbara's Shelly Lowenkopf

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Melinda Palacio
Shelly Lowenkopf

            Shelly Lowenkopf's numerous roles in the book world continue to flourish. He is the rare author who knows the ins and outs of the publishing world from his early days working as the Editor-in-Chief at Sherbourne Press in 1962. The 82-year old writer taught in the University of Southern California's Master of Professional Writing Program for 34 years, where he was given a Lifetime teaching award, and he currently teaches at Santa Barbara City College and UCSB's College of Creative Studies. In Santa Barbara, he's best known for his longtime writing workshop with Leonard Tourney and his Pirate Workshop at the Santa Barbara Writers Conference. Although he is no longer teaching with Leonard Tourney or the Santa Barbara Writers Conference, students can find Shelly at UCSB, SBCC, or his Saturday workshop at Cafe Luna in Summerland, CA. Shelly has seen former students, such as Catherine Ryan Hyde, rise to the ranks of best-sellers. He's also had a hand in seeing over 500 books through the editorial and production process.
            The closing of bookstores, publishing houses, and the continuing evolution of the publishing world hasn't stopped Shelly from staying in the game and pushing his students to stick to their passion, produce the best book they can possibly write, and then sell it to a publisher. One can say love for craft and his students keeps Shelly enthusiastic about helping writers meet their goals. He has taken on the students of his late wife Anne Lowenkopf, who shared his love for writers who put words on paper.  
            In fact, the elusive concept of love figures in the 12 stories that make up his new short fiction collection, Love Will Make You Drink & Gamble, Stay OutLate at Night (White Whisker Books 2014). Of Lowenkopf's new book, bloguero Manuel Ramos says:
            "Lowenkopf unveils Santa Barbara's passion with clever tales about men and women (and cats and dogs) that surprise and delight. Subtle humor mixes with the loneliness and desire, but we laugh with the characters, not at them, because we see ourselves in these people. In the stories of Shelly Lowenkopf, we remember that love is life--long live love."
Love Will Make You Drink & Gamble, Stay Out Late at Night

            Originally from Los Angeles, Shelly has fond memories of riding the bus with his deaf grandmother to visit the Kosher Butcher shop in Boyle Heights. He later moved to Santa Barbara and the city remains dear to his heart. He's had opportunities to return to the bustle of New York City, but prefers sleepy Santa Barbara, the backdrop for his short stories. "Santa Barbara reminds me of L.A. when I was growing up," he said, "That L.A had no smog, an ocean, and relatively little traffic, and people were awfully nice."
            I asked Shelly what makes a student stand out as the one who might have a breakthrough book and his answer involved three  'r' words: reading, rewriting, and revising.
            "The ones who made it were readers. They read everything, not just books in their fields. They don't mind rewriting. Most actors don't mind rehearsals."
            His own love of reading is present in the ways he brings a poetic quality and an excitement to archaic and anachronistic phrases, such as a hair shirt. In his story, "Coming to Terms," the author describes his character Charlie as:
"Charlie began to slog about as though his soul wore a hair shirt. Vulnerable, flinching at the merest confrontation, his viscera would wrench up on him at the sight of borrowed books, notes and correspondence, concert ticket stubs, or any trace of the confetti of his failed relationship (Love, p.161)."
            Shelly's next books include a mystery novel and a writing handbook that uses acting techniques to reveal a story's subtext. Check out Lowenkopf's, The FictionWriter's Handbook, a resource for both readers and writers. He is also a regular blogger at www.lowenkopf.com.

Book Launch Party for Shelly Lowenkopf today: June 6, Friday at 5:30 pm at Cafe Luna, 2354 Lillie Avenue, Summerland, Ca.

Our unenchanted, Denver gardens

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Honeysuckles and marigolds box
Denver and eastern Colo. are no places for gardens like Michael Sedano's in Pasadena. Despite snowstorm pics in the news, Colorado's dry--alpine arid--though it doesn't take a village to do a garden right.

Gardening is god-like, our pretending to be dioses, remaking the jungle into an image of our choosing. My wife and I are lucky to have a home and the time to devote to a garden somewhat different from others.

A neverending, Aztec-adirondack design
Our knowledge about the Mexica gardens of the Anahuac Valley is incomplete. Tezcozinco was the name of the poet-prince Nezahualcoyotl's gardens; Chapultepec and Xochmilco were the Aztec's. The invading Spaniards described them as more wondrous than any in the world, though they didn't know about those in Asia.

Aquaponics, hydroponics were practiced by the indigenes with their milpas; and recycling and waste management were taken to an extreme in Tenochtítlan because of limited land available for the Aztecs to settle on. This part of the heritage would be good to recover, obviously. Today, my wife and I are hosting an Unenchanted Garden Party, and maybe raising a little money for battered women's shelters. Here's what visitors will see.

 
My wife Carmen's vegetable and flower garden out front contains: tomato plants, plum, catalpa, peach and apple trees, jalapeños, strawberry, roses, yarrow, honeysuckle, tulips, icy plants, catnip, cosmos, tiger lily, currants, lilacs, lamb's ear, climbing wild roses, and trumpet vine.

Succulent, nopal, yucca and blue fescue living together
My half is the desert-prairie: Evergreens, wildflowers like cosmos and Colo. sunflowers, succulents, hens-n-chicks, groundcovers, agastaches, marigolds, penstemons, sages, lavenders, and prairie, blue fescue and buffalo grasses, yuccas, mt. plants, and a dozen varieties of cactus.

The yard goes for water-saving, with prairie grass that needs little water or mowing, with the sod landscaped into rolling hills to keep water from reaching the street. Cactus, succulents and grasses are native varieties from Mexico, the SW or Colo. native. Where possible, terracing keeps water loss down, especially on my wife's half. Inverted, Spanish roof-tiles channel rain-gutter water away from the house.

Jalapeños/onions box
Organic fertilizer: We use a concentrated, seaweed emulsion, about every two weeks. Better than MiracleGro, cheaper and requiring less frequent applications. Here's our organic weed killer & ants-ridder: 1 gal. vinegar; 2 cups Epson salts; 1/4 Dawn dish soap [blue original]. It works in less than a day. Just a little squirt kills ALL plants, so we use a sprayer set to a stream setting.

Latest attempt at an Azteco bench
Except for three items, the wood furniture and other yard features are homemade, primarily from reused or salvaged cedar and redwood. The designs are based on Aztec or indigenous models or motifs, avoiding boxy, ninety degree angles, when possible.

Marigolds, four-o-clocks and wild cosmos box
For the front patio, we cut over 100 bricks to make the curved border, set each brick with 6" rebar and laid it on pea gravel, to avoid using concrete.

For those of you out of town, this completes your tour of our unenchanted gardens. If you're in Denver, drop by today between 11:00am and 3:00pm.

Drinks and eats and transplants and seeds are here. And lots of chatting about gardening in the desert-prairie.

the front deck, built with lockers underneath
RudyG and Carmen
waiting out front in the yard


Strawberry hutch

a selfie of some our goldfish, out back

Learning, Witnessing, on The Pine Ridge Lakota Reservation

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Amelia M.L. Montes
Reporting from The Oglala Lakota Reservation in Pine Ridge---


This week's "Lakota Country Times" newspaper, has a column entitled "Rez Ramblings," by Oglala Lakota writer, Leon Matthews. In it, he describes some of the "Mission groups" and tourists that come to the Lakota reservation during the summer. He writes:
"We have the summer short term mission groups coming and repainting houses and playing with our children . . . I think there are some pros and cons when it comes to the groups that roll around in the big buses and white vans . . . a safari type mentality . . . come to check out the poverty. . . Most of the groups are here to try to help our people, but the (Mission/Tour Companies) control what they do and see on the Reservations" (June 5, 2014).

This poster hangs on President Bryan Brewer's office wall.

Matthews' comments are exactly why I hesitated to go to Pine Ridge. I did not want to go there to change or interrupt/disrupt anyone there.

I did not especially want to be a part of any "safari mentality." Years ago, I was invited to Africa, and too many times during that trip, I felt much like the kind of "wasicu" Leon Matthews describes above. "Wasicu," is a Lakota word with many meanings two of which are "one who is not native" and "one who takes."

"Badlands" on the approach to Pine Ridge Diabetes Center
I know about some of the "mission" or volunteer groups who, without asking or first listening to people, or understanding their needs first, they barrel in and "take charge" painting a Lakota family's house without even asking if they would like their house painted in the first place or going ahead with a color that the family never approved. Now that I'm here, I have heard of a family's house getting painted every summer. The family just paints it back to the original color.

I think of Leonard Peltier's Prison Writings where he talks of "junk cars in some Indian family's front yard and [people--probably some of the tourist & mission people] say, 'These dirty Indians, how can they live like that...'"



Peltier brilliantly continues in this very short section: "Maybe these people, so quick to judge, don't understand the higher mathematics of being poor. They don't realize that, when you can't afford to buy or commercially repair a car, it may take six or eight junkers out in the yard to keep one junker going on the road. Those yard junkers take on a special value in Indian eyes: they're the source of that hard-to-come-by and almost sacred commodity in Indian country--transportation. Without wheels out in the empty distances of the rez, you're utterly isolated. When the family's one working car breaks down, one of those yard junkers may provide precisely the part that's needed so that Pop can drive seventy mikes to town each day to his menial job and help feed his often-hungry family. To such a family, those junkers out in the yard represent survival.

Besides, there's often some old auntie who sleeps, even lives, in those old wrecks. And, if you open the trunk or the glove compartment, you'll often see lovingly stacked rows of Indian corn and beans, sage, and sweetgrass, arranged in there like fine jewels. There's poetry in those junkyards. Those old junkers can hold holy things in their rusted innards. Sort of like us Indians. Remember that next time you drive through a rez and see those junkers in the yard. They're holy, too." (Leonard Peltier, Prison Writings: My Life is My Sun Dance pg. 69-70)


So why am I here? I was invited. But even with the invitation, I hesitated. I wanted to make sure the reason to come here was an ethical one. As you know, Queridos "La Bloga" readers, I've been writing and researching on Diabetes. Our Latino people are impacted by Diabetes as much as indigenous populations on both sides of the border. I am here, then, to witness, understand, and learn, how Lakota people are managing the disease.

Amelia M.L. Montes with President Bryan Brewer

Amelia M.L. Montes with Toni Red Cloud, Assistant to President Bryan Brewer
In this whirlwind week, I've met with Lakota President Bryan Brewer, Toni Red Cloud, who is one of President Brewer's assistants, and Tuki Tibbits, the Director of a Diabetes Prevention Center, "Oyate Blihelya" ("That the People May Live"). Their work to transform their grassy grounds (surrounding their offices) into vegetable gardens for the people, to provide bicycles and organized bike rides, other exercise programs, their efforts in going to the schools and Lakota owned grocery stores to consult on the kind of foods to provide, helped me understand the vast work to be done back home where I am in Lincoln, Nebraska as well as when I think if my familia in Los Angeles and Mexico.

Youth development project: Skateboard Park
 And while learning and witnessing Lakota strategies on Diabetes, yesterday our group stood on the Main Street with other locals to witness the over 200 Lakotas on horseback returning from a four-day trip they began at Fort Robinson. It's called "The Crazy Horse Ride." It is an annual youth development ride to teach Lakota youth about The history of Crazy Horse, the Lakota culture, this sacred ritual. They return with the spirit of Crazy Horse, illustrated by arriving with a riderless horse at the front of the long line of riders. It was a most moving moment to see children, teens, young adults (and adult leaders), female and male, proudly riding past us on ponies, palominos, pintos--all ages, sizes. It was breathtaking. The Indigenous Tribes of North America are not gone. They ride and stand strong, and I feel humbled and honored to be here to witness, to learn.

The Crazy Horse Memorial Ride
The meaning of the ride is about the final journey of Crazy Horse. The areas of Fort Robinson and Beaver Valley were significant to the final days of the Lakota leader. 
The riderless horse symbolizes a warrior and his spirit that resides within the Great Lakota Nation.
Writing in President Brewer's office.
As well, in my group with whom I am traveling, (I have come with other Chicanos and Latinos), they, like me, see so many cultural connections with the Lakota. We've been having many talks about our own mestizaje and our own experiences as minorities in this country. More to write, of course. But, for now, I wanted to share just a bit of this experience contigo. To be continued!

Reservation country.

Just released by San Diego State University Press: "Things We Do Not Talk About: Exploring Latino/a Literature through Essays and Interviews"

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ISBN-10:193853705X; ISBN-13:978-1-938537-05-9
$21 • paperback • 202 pp.
Now available for purchase here.

In this candid and wide-ranging collection of personal essays and interviews published by San Diego State University Press, award-winning author Daniel A. Olivas explores Latino/a literature at the dawn of the 21st century.

While his essays address a broad spectrum of topics from the Mexican-American experience to the Holocaust, Olivas always returns to and wrestles with queries that have no easy answers: How does his identity as a Chicano reflect itself through his writing? What issues and subjects are worth exploring? How do readers react to the final results? Can literature affect political discourse and our daily lives?

Olivas has explored similar questions through almost a decade’s worth of interviews with Latino/a authors that have appeared in various online literary publications. While professors and students alike have already relied upon many of the interviews as source material for scholarly examination, twenty-eight of these incisive and frank dialogues are now collected in one volume for the first time. Olivas dives deep to discover how these authors create prose and poetry while juggling families, facing bigotry, struggling with writer’s block, and deciphering a fickle publishing industry. This roster of interview subjects is a who’s who of contemporary Latino/a literature:

Aaron A. Abeyta • Daniel Alarcón • Francisco Aragón • Gustavo Arellano
Gregg Barrios • Richard Blanco • Margo Candela • Susana Chávez-Silverman
Sandra Cisneros • Carlos E. Cortés • Carmen Giménez Smith • Ray González
Rigoberto González • Octavio González • Reyna Grande • Myriam Gurba
Rubén Martínez • Michael Luis Medrano • Aaron Michael Morales • Manuel Muñoz
Salvador Plascencia • Sam Quinones • Ilan Stavans • Héctor Tobar
Justin Torres • Sergio Troncoso • Luis Alberto Urrea • Helena María Viramontes

Things We Do Not Talk About will undoubtedly become a natural companion to the study and enjoyment of contemporary Latino/a literature. Cover artwork is by Perry Vasquez.

PRAISE FOR THINGS WE DO NOT TALK ABOUT:

Many of the subjects that Olivas addresses in this book are important to current conversations about Latino literature, especially among students and writers. And not just Latinos — conversations about using multiple languages and Latino literary traditions like magical realism require more sophistication. Olivas’s Things We Do Not Talk About can be a useful tool to incite any reader into deeper thought not only about these subjects, but also about questions of authority and responsibility. These can be complicated topics, but Olivas leaves plenty of room for your own nuanced answers.” –Carribean Fragoza, Los Angeles Review of Books


“Olivas’s penetrating meditations on all facets of the life of Latino fiction writing, including his own as a Latino lawyer eking out a living in the global conundrum of LA—dazzle!His cornucopia of incisive interviews with many of our great contemporary Latino/a poets, novelists, short story, and non-fiction authors—astound!Wide ranging and yet laser focused, Olivas gives us the total portrait of Latino/a letters today.” —Frederick Luis Aldama, Arts & Humanities Distinguished Professor of English at The Ohio State University and author of The Routledge Concise History of Latino/a Literature


“With passion and earnestness Daniel Olivas reveals that the preoccupations of the contemporary Chicana/o writer are vast and complex. Most Chicanas/os and Latinas/os would attest to this, of course, but how often do we see this range in published form? Through personal essays and probing interviews, Olivas tackles not only the craft of writing but also its Moral implications. We are lucky to have such a generous author in our midst.” —Maceo Montoya, author of The Deportation of Wopper Barraza

IN OTHER LITERARY NEWS…



Grand Opera Raza. Breathtaking On-line Floricanto. Bluebird June.

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Michael Sedano



NO CAMERAS reads the unfriendly signage posted at the threshold to the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion. I understand the reluctance to expose a Grand Opera performance to pendejas pendejos firing flashbulbs during Thaïs’ meditation, or relentlessly grabbing exposures as the sets grow more fabulous with every scene and act.

My gosh, that gorgeous explosion of red in Thaïs’ bedroom closing the second act. I would have loved to take that foto. But NO CAMERAS read all those signs. They mean no good cameras, the Music Center doesn’t give a hoot that everyone and his tenor carry cell phones that take fotos.

A friend invites Barbara and me to Hispanics for Los Angeles Opera’s16th Annual Placido Domingo Awards. This is a fabulous gala where my friend’s employer buys a table annually to support the community. We attend the closing night of Thaïs, sip wine entr’actes, then feast a gluten-free dinner that starts around ten. I will be home by 1:30.

Like me, my host cannot tolerate gluten, so while wheateaters munch chocolate something, we have a wonderful plate of sliced fruit, like a Mexican breakfast.

This evening, the catering company, Patina, goes to extraordinary lengths to meet demands of people with food allergies while not diminishing the elegance of the experience. Rarely has a restaurant been as attentive as Patina this night.

This year’s awardee, composer/educator Lee Holdridge delights the packed floor when he relates his mother is Puerto Rico born. His official bio tells of his Haitian birth. Of great significance to this group of gente from here, plus the consulados of Mexico and Guatemala, is Holdridge’s role, with Domingo, in bringing Opera to hundreds of thousands of school children in Los Angeles.

With raza being “the largest demographic” in the region, educational outreach makes good sense in building future audiences for Opera in Los Angels, and building membership of Hispanics for Los Angeles Opera. I started attending events here on Bunker Hill the year I returned from the Army. Never have I heard so many people speaking Spanish, and in a packed auditorium. Not at Zoot Suit, Blade to the Heat, or a Culture Clash main stager.

So, at first glance, the recruitment idea of attracting local raza to the Music Center, much less the Opera, has a ring of irony. Raza-dominant schools are in the poorest parts of the city. Gente surviving at minimum wage or unemployed in large numbers. Immigrants stepping in filling gaps left by generational change. Generations moving up and out. Gente live cycles of aspiration and rising expectation that normally don't include going to The Opera.

The audience tonight offers a reminder that raza is not a monolithic culture but made up complexes of associations grown from economy, experience, schooling, taste, human variation like everyone else's culture. This group loves Opera, music, arte. Like everyone else.

Enthusiasm and joy break out when Maestro calls the performers to the front for a group foto. It's a signal for a montón of camera-carrying gente to crowd around and get their own souvenirs. I have an iPod touch that makes movies and I'm up there with the crowd, too. I restrain myself from getting a foto standing with Placido Domingo. The line is pretty long.


Looking around it's good not being the only Chicano in the place. Gente here wear fine gowns and suits--tuxes on some of the men. Todos all fitting in like they belong in this elegance. Sabes que? There’s not irony but one of any number of futures.

Kids tomorrow who become first to attend college in their familias will find themselves at positions where they’ll echo what Langston Hughes wrote, tomorrow, no one will send me to eat in the kitchen. I'll sit out here with the crystal chandelier crowd.

There is irony in the beauteous evening. As I’m giving my ticket to the Valet windows, there’s a vato joking in Spanish with the parking vatos who fetch his fancy car for him. The workers are probably hoping all the guests split fast, not wanting to miss the last bus. The Mexicano doesn't tip the vato holding the door open.


Chicano Photography
Epiphyllum Flowers Nature's On-line Floricanto


My people are gardeners. On my father's side, my grandfather developed the Tangelo on a ranch out beside the Salton Sea. Some agronomist got the patent and the cash. When we visited my grampa out on the ranch he'd take us through the huertas pointing out the diverse fruits he was cultivating. On my mother's side, red-blooming ephiphyllum cacti occupied treasured spots in gardens.

Some call these "orchid cactus," my gramma termed them "rosas." Her collection featured two colors, a prolific and small-flowered Red and a dinner plate sized White. I have cuttings from those, and all of my mother's surviving specimens.

My mother had epiphyllum fever and I caught it from her. These blossoms provide wonders, many only at night. In their full glory, as in these floral portraits, epiphyllum cacti provide a few hours joyous spectacle before light, heat, gravity, and time see it collapse into itself. Desiccated, their blossoms refuse to be ignored, beautiful corpses.

Only a few flowers have discernible scent, and when they have, it's often a gentle perfume that lingers only in the trumpet of the flower. A few blossoms flood the area around with a soft sweetness penetrating one's senses, at first unaware, and upon realization, I swoon from breathing this undeniably earthly air.



This triple flowering penca offers a rare--at least in my garden--sight. The middle blossom opened the day after the two outside buds opened.


Color, like the variegated orange, purple, and red of this flower, makes each blossom a special and unique experience.


This white blossom features brilliant yellow emanations and a sweet penetrating perfume. Its lingering scent makes a gardener think he's accomplished something special, when it's the plant doing all the miracles here.


Viewed from afar, an epiphyllum blossom offers a stunning sight. Macrophotography offers vistas unaided eyes won't get to enjoy. The fluorescent purple edges of two blossoms frame a single pollen-bearing anther. The red-orange variegation in the center of each petal glows from the low morning sunlight shining through.


A blossom comes together as uniquely as anything in nature. Much of the fun in macrophotography is showing strikingly unique instances of uniqueness. Light shining behind this flower illuminates the white colored transition from base to flower. Shadowy filaments curve from their green origin, capped by anthers. Normally white or yellow, the light comes through the color of the surrounding petals.


Female male elements. The white star below--the Stigma in botanical nomenclature--catches male pollen and carries it into the ovary. If the right moth, bat, or other critter happens by and brings anther dust into contact with stigma, in all likelihood a pitaya forms deep in the throat of the floral trumpet.

The likelihood of the right critter happening by is dim, however. These plants do not produce fruitful pitaya. At any rate, any that I've suspected of bearing good seed never germinated.


There's a joyful frisson that runs through me when I print a floral portrait. According to the manufacturer of my inks and paper, a print will last me, or whoever buys it, 100 years. The large images printed on 13" x 19" paper make spectacular wall hangings singly or grouped.

Photographers notes. Canon T2i, 100mm f/2.8 macro USM. ISO100, 400, and 800. f/32, others. I set the camera on a tripod and use an RF remote to expose.

Email me if you'd like access to the full gallery of prints.

Reading Your Stuff Aloud
Bluebird Reading Returns From Hiatus

There are times when taking a one-month break between poetry readings sounds like a disease. Jessica Ceballos and an exciting company of poets recovered spectacularly from their bout of hiatus and showed it at Avenue 50 Studio Sunday. If it's the second Sunday of a month, unless someone comes down with a bout of hiatus, it's Bluebird Reading Series day with host Jessica Ceballos


Ceballos launches the summer with a beautiful line up featuring Angel Garcia, Ariel Maccarone, Donny Jackson, and Kelly Grace Thomas. Open mic'ers included Karineh Mahdessian via Skype from Israel. Signing on Sunday were Don Kingfisher Campbell, Don Newton, Alejandro Duarte, Wyatt Underwood, Regina Higgins, Kimberly Cobian, Christopher Wayne Thompson, Sara Borjas, Justin Wallace Kibbe.


Angel Garcia makes his debut spotlight reading as the first reader. It's one of the pleasures of attending Bluebird readings semi-regularly, seeing a poet grow in both expression and confidence in front of an audience.

I saw Angel in February reading at Avenue 50's companion series La Palabra. He stood with his back against the wall as far from the audience as he could get, holding his cell phone display in both hands. His thoughtful work deserved better treatment. It's getting there.

June sees Angel step forward, uses the lectern as home base. He rests his electronic manuscript on the lectern, freeing his hands for gesture. As with many poets, he might consider memorizing his work to allow eye contact and to liberate himself from that tiny screen--early in his reading he jokes how tiny. I have a prejudice against lecterns, so with no mic to hold a person in one spot, readers like Angel should feel free to move away and face the audience without barriers. At any rate, Angel will want to work in a few gestures with his arms and hands.


Ariel Maccarone weaves intricate ideas in tightly compressed prose pieces she doesn't have a name for. Someone in the audience suggests "flash fiction" and Maccarone goes with the flow. That's fitting given the flow of her ideas and how she builds expressions sometimes finding a sparkling phrase in intense moments of emotion, anger, assessment.


She reads very fast, a pace not effective for complex phrasing and intricate ideas that go into the tight, short pieces. Slowing down improves a reader's articulation and protects the writer's words from disappearing. All that work and the audience has to listen hard to catch what can be caught.

There's a world of benefit to a listener's enjoyment, and the work itself, from slowing down and investing that time with more careful attention to expressing words with their content rather merely their sound. Speed generally is your enemy.


Audiences forgive any number of missed expressive opportunities because it's a rare reader who reads their stuff with strategic consideration of their performance. Bluebird attracts new visitors every month, as well as a handful of regulars. Keep the new ones coming back and reward the regulars by adding small increments of interpretation to the performance. And, as many in the house are poets themselves, an effective reading invariably inspires others to copy the leader.


Donny Jackson makes his Bluebird debut. He's clearly a practiced veteran reader, a writer comfortable with his work. This poet puts his heart on display in every piece. His poetry holds his artistry as much as his identity in the subjects and eloquence of his writing.


Jackson works from memory. He has the manuscript pages on the lectern, but they're only an aide memoire, a place to return--home base--after he steps away to use the open space for broad gestures and unimpeded body language.

Like many seasoned performers, Jackson has grown comfortable with his distinctive style and has settled into it as a habit. Each piece he shares comes with distinction but also a sameness of delivery, pace, vocalics--particularly whispering, and gesture. Just as each poem has its uniqueness, its reading should illustrate that.

Audiences welcome variety within a reading and within a program. Jackson kept apologizing, saying the next one won't be so dark. And it is. He's a fine writer and a capable performer, so the audience thinks they're having a good time.

Video brings an incredibly useful tool to a writer's self accountability. Seeing oneself on screen, recognizing skills, habits and other opportunities, can be apotheosis. Self-confrontation provides effective lessons that readily transcend well-wishers who tell a reader "great read" because what else is there to say? As capable as a person is today, there should always be one element to work on for the next reading; something new, something less, something more, something not at all.


Kelly Grace Thomas closes the featured reader segment with a polished, highly expressive presentation that illustrates the truism "it ain't what you say but how you say it." This means audiences will remember not merely the sound and fury but the full technology of the body.


Bluebird's host, Avenue 50 Studio, features fine art exhibitions. Thomas dresses for the occasion in a fabric that evokes abstract art like Miró or Kandinsky, a perfect fit to the ambience of the gallery. The show features Raoul de la Sota's textile sketches of Spain. A few red dots are good news to the gallery and artist.


Thomas treats her audience better than she treats herself. She's all dressed up with no place to go, stuck behind that darned lectern! A writer labors over every word until the piece is ready for its public. An effective presenter like Thomas reads so her words flow with idea and expression rather than the length of her poetic line. Her face shares the moment, the energy of the reading wants to escape through her hands.

And there's that darned lectern. Blocking the view and holding Thomas back, stuck in one spot.
A reader wants to have a home base "up there," and the lectern's part of the ritual. The poet likely knows the piece so well that the paper can sit on the shelf and the reader can step to the side, glancing away from the audience only occasionally to catch her place. Using big type increases page count and legibility. Since the reader isn't reading pages but words, go for legibility every time.

There's nothing stopping a reader from picking up the page and moving away into the available space. Handling the manuscript is just another skill in a reader's repertoire.

Bluebird Open Mic


Clockwise from topleft: Hanne Steen and Marci Carillo PEN recruiters, Christopher Wayne Thompson,  Justin Wallace Kibbe, Sara Borjas


Alejandro Duarte, Wyatt Underwood, Karineh Mahdessian via Skype, Kimberly Cobian. Cobian's two minutes of high energy offered welcome variety from many of today's Open Mic readers.


Don Kingfisher Campbell reads from a poetry card he printed for each member. Don Newton is one of the Deans of Northeast LA poetry. Kimberly Cobian illustrates one useful way to hold her manuscript, standing away from the lectern. Regina Higgins.



For The Love of Soccer!

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Review by Ariadna Sánchez
All eyes will be on Sao Paulo, Brazil this Thursday June 12th when the FIFA World CupTM 2014 begins. The international soccer competition gathers the 32 best soccer teams from around the world to celebrate the passion for fútbol and brotherhood. The winner of this tournament will take home the prestigious FIFA World Cup gold trophy. For all soccer players, participating in the World Cup is an important achievement, and it is also a life learning experience.  Fans from all over the five continents are anxious and excited to witness the magic of soccer in every kick of the ball.

For The Love of Soccer! is written by three-time World Cup champion Pelé and beautifully illustrated by Frank Morrison. Edison Arantes do Nascimento “Pelé” was born on October 23, 1940 in Três Corações, Brazil. The soccer legend’s first book for children portrays the amazing journey from his childhood until becoming an icon worldwide. Pelé’s strong message to children is to enjoy life to the fullest and the importance of team work.  Pelé uses vivid words to motivated young readers to follow their dreams at the same time he encourages children to do it with love.
Pelé is a positive role model for the new generations around the globe. His tenacity and skills allowed him to play professional soccer for Brazilian Team Santos from 1956 until 1974. He also played on Brazil’s National Team giving him the opportunity to win three World Cups. After he retired from Santos in 1974, Pelé joined the New York Cosmos. In 1975, soccer was not a popular sport in the United States. However, Pelé’s energetic and charismatic spirit made soccer be appreciated by the American society.  Nowadays, soccer is considered a massive fever that has spread making this popular sport part of one’s life.   GOOOOOAAALLLLLLLLLL!!!!!!

Check out the following link for additional information regarding the latest news of FIFA World CupTM , Brazil 2014:


Chicanonautica: New Whiteness, Brown Shift and Other Absurdities

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A strange phenomenon has been popping up. Hispanics -- as the U.S. Census Bureau calls them -- have been changing color. Talk about unexpected mutations.

Slate used George Zimmerman as an example of the New Whiteness.

According the New York Times:

An estimated 1.2 million Americans of the 35 million Americans identified in 2000 as “Hispanic, Latino or Spanish origin,” as the census form puts it, changed their race from “some other race” to “white” between the 2000 and 2010 censuses . . .

It reminds me of what I call the Brown Shift in Mexican comic books, which is especially noticeable in westerns (or should they be called norteños?): Mestizos become white, Indians become light brown, and whites look like they should glow in the dark. 

Note these Mexicanas confronting gringos in Frontera Violenta, No. 1114:



And blue-eyed Solitario, killing a classic bandido in El Solitario, Jinete Sin Fronteras, No. 50:


It also gets me flashing back to when I was going to college back in the Seventies. I hated filling out forms (and still do) because my reality never fit their spaces and boxes. There was always a nice box for Hispanic but the word was always followed by (Spanish surname only). The only other choices were White, Black, Asian and Other. It pissed me off. So depending on my mood, I’d put myself down as Black, Asian and even Other.

I never put myself down as White. I’d been called a nigger enough times to know that would be pushing things a little too far.

Though people often think I’m white, and complement me on my tan. One said, “I thought you were Jewish -- you’re so smart!”

Whether I’m light- or dark-skinned depends on who’s looking at me.

But do we now have a choice? Can we become legally white?

I imagine a gun-totting Arizona vigilante approaching someone who fits the profile of an illegal alien:

“Do have any I.D.?”

“Sorry, but I consider myself to be white.”

Can Afrolatinos become white? The diverse mestizo gene pool often has people from güero to negrito in the same immediate family. Would a parent or sibling declaring New Whiteness make you white, too?

When La Raza Cosmica meets the New Whiteness, Chicano truly becomes a sci-fi state of being. Or what Chester Himes called the “absurdity of racism.” Or in the words of Ishmael Reed: “it’s not a ghetto -- it’s a galaxy.”

And I’m reminded of Joseph Goebbles once said to Fritz Lang: “We decide who is Jewish or not.”

Ernest Hogan trying to get things done as it gets hotter in Phoenix.

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