CHICANONAUTICA FINDS THE INFO WILDERNESS AND THE MASKED MARVEL

Chicanonautica visits an info wilderness and finds out about a masked marvel at La Bloga.

The new wilderness is where there’s no cell coverage:

It’s where woodcutters have ancient wisdom:

And there are strange places:

And a masked marvel:

HOBBITON IN FAR NORTHERN AZTLÁN

Like Mike says, the further north in California, closer to Oregon, the far edge of Aztlán, the more it becomes like Hobbiton. I must admit that the cooler weather, mossy, misty forests, and the relaxed, post-countercultural rural communities have a Middle Earth feeling. No hobbits, but images of Sasquatch are everywhere.

It definitely felt that way in Petaluma, though in places it was more like an abandoned Oz than one of the high-rent sectors of Middle Earth. There were murals,

a memorial to an arm-wrestling journalist,

and some funky stores

—including a bookstore where I found an old book that I was looking for, that often happens in these trips (really, it’s as if someone was putting them there for me to find), and the Thrifty Hippie,

where I saw the subtle flyer advocating the legalization of magic mushrooms.

Could that be the next step after cannabis culture in California? How long before classy shops will offer upscale, pricey, FDA-sanctioned psychedelic products that can do everything from warding off bad vibes to putting you in a kaleidoscopic intergalactic freefall for the weekend? And, of course, there will be unforeseen side effects . . .

Then there was the fabulous, abandoned Petaluma fairgrounds. Rusting fantastic sculptures towered over a wall with a weather-beaten sign calling for a movement to save the wonders while a winged lion and flying saucers rusted in the sun.

We arrived in Santa Rosa after their thrift stores had closed, but we did find a good Chinese restaurant. Then it was wine country, and into the redwoods, under the marine layer. The fog was thick. We finally ended up in a Super 8 in Fort Bragg.

CHICANONAUTICA GOES UP THE PACIFIC COAST OF CALI

Further up the Cali coast in Chicanonautica, over at La Bloga.

Things are changing:

We saw a lighthouse:

Mayan cuisine is taking root:

And it’s earthquake country:

UNCHEAP THRILLS IN NORCAL

I passed on the free raisin snails at the motel, we went to a bagel shop in Carmel, where Clint Eastwood was once the mayor.

I thought I heard an elderly woman say, “A friend of mine got a new arm.”

(Later, Emily told me she heard it too.)

This was at the edge of an upscale shopping center. What kind of sci-fi lives did the people have around here? I’ve said that the SoCal I grew up in was like a collaboration between Philip K. Dick and the Firesign Theater spiced with some Cheech and Chong, the same seems to go for contemporary NorCal. How long before all of California starts to look like a backdrop for my stories?

The shopping center seemed to have roots that go back to the pre-mall era, kept up by a robust local economy. 

There were some thrift stores and a bookstore that Mike liked.

There were also signs announcing a prohibition on dogs relieving themselves on the premises.

This one place had a big sign: SYNCHRONICITY HOLISTIC. We wondered whatthehell kinda business that were in, then there was this slick, subtle, wordless sign: a marijuana leaf. Or should I say cannabis?

It was closed, but when I put my face close to the tinted windows, it looked like a bank: plush ultramodern furniture, plants that may have been artificial, and velvet ropes in front of a high counter where you could purchase high-price products that would make you feel synchronic and holistic.

It was right out of the New Wave spec fic I read in my youth. I imagine a time travel situation where I could show this to spaced-out hippies from 1969. Would they be delighted or horrified?

A short stroll away was another place: BIG SUR, CANNA + BOTANICALS.

Another place offered LASER AESTHETICS.

Who knows, the place that sells new arms was probably not far away . . .

Next it was historic Cannery Row, and the Monterey Bay Aquarium. Parking and getting in was a cyberKafka labyrinth. The bay area is a dense tourist area, and the parking meters were hard to figure out. You can’t just walk up and buy the expensive tickets to the aquarium and get in. Employees with hand-held gadgets told us we could only do it online, they helped, but . . .

The aquarium was a blast once we got in. Not just a bunch of fish tanks, but recreated ocean environments, deep sea, kelp forests, tide pools . . . alien environments with strange lifeforms, and they’re right here on this planet. In fact, most of this planet is ocean. We surface dwellers are a minority.

It was fun, but then, like the octopus clinging to the glass, gripping a piece of PVC pipe, not moving, I felt uneasy. Most of the jellyfish were swimming upside-down–was this normal, or a reaction to the unnatural situation? How long before all natural environments are locked up in artificial recreations like this? The creeping Disneylandization of the planet. Pay the high price for tickets, stand in line, be part of the crowd, a cell in the economic organism, consume what’s left of the ecosystem . . .

Or maybe we are already a worldwide zoo/aquarium, and alien tourists whizz by delighting in our crime, wars, and self-destruction . . .

Later, in a thrift shop in Pacific Grove, I a copy of André Breton’s Manifestoes of Surrealism.