Wednesday, November 23, 2022

Thomas Pynchon's Bleeding Edge: Book Review


 

Thomas Pynchon’s Bleeding Edge 

By Armando Ortiz

In Bleeding Edge, the author Thomas Pynchon tells the story of Maxine Tarnow who goes into an investigative journey to uncover the workings of events that were unfolding in New York during the first months of 2001. He creates a clear distinction between the techies that are becoming rich profiting from their creations, and those no longer rolling with dough anymore like Nicholas Windust. This review will mainly focus on the connections the book makes with Central America, the alternative online world that had been created called DeepArcher, and how ultimately we all experience new beginnings which in some ways are also a return. 

Nicholas is a person who has accumulated an empire through shady government dealings and has the power to run countries, and yet he can't. He is quickly becoming irrelevant and useless to the powers that be and the country is about to get closer to completely becoming digital. As a result his collaborations, while being an operative of the state, will compromise his identity. Windust, a secret agent, spent most of his time in Central America in the 80’s. His ex-wife, Xiomara describes to Maxine his obsession with the idea of Xibalba after getting stationed in Guatemala in the early 80s, “in Huehuetenango, where Windust and I met, it was less that a day’s journey to a system of caves everyone there believed was the approach to Xibalba.” She kept explaining that “the early Christian missionaries thought tales of hell would frighten us, but we already had Xibalba, literally, the place of fear.” Hence real life characters that once walked this earth, like Rios Montt, weren’t something new, but an expression or an incarnation of what came out from the caves and cenotes connected to the Mayan underworld.

In the novel “frontier” is found on the internet and more specifically in the program site that Maxine’s friend’s had created - DeepArcher. People log into the site and can leave the “meat” world, and exist in the virtual serendipity of digital existence, but at the ending of the novel even this has been closed. Along the same lines Windust had experienced an alternative world via the Mayan folktales that he’d heard in the Guatemalan towns he visited- a world where violence didn’t play out on television screens or in the virtual world of the infant internet but came creeping out of caves. It wasn’t he that used a cattle prod, but his alternate self from the underworld that did the dirty deeds.

Aside from reminding us how the U.S. entered the 21st century, Pynchon looks back at our government’s involvement in Central America. The book keeps reminding the reader that there was a dubious American presence in Central America in the late-70s all the way to the 90s. The 21st century for Windust was his departure, he had done the dirty work. Windust, a U.S. citizen, led a secret life abroad, returning to the world of Xibalba- a foreign world. Abroad, he would merge with the crowds, but remained an outsider, and back in New York he became part of the outside class. His obsession with the Mayan underworld is similar to the world that characters living in New York have digitally.

Pynchon’s characters escape from the hell-like conditions that begin to grow and spread in Central America. They also escape the “meat” world of New York as they embark into a digital space where random meetings take place, like a new frontier. For those in the South the frontier is dangerous, teeming with injustice and the only frontier to flee to is the north. DeepArcher keeps getting more and more popular, similar to how many social media companies came to be. Pynchon gives readers a glimpse into life in the U.S. months before the attack on the Twin Towers, describing the realities middle to upper middle class society were experiencing- a time when new technologies were beginning to be used and if you had the money for these new toys then you’d get them. The internet was just beginning to blow up and people were adapting to all the new changes that were happening.

Those living in New York came and went as they pleased, they left for California and returned with a tan, they traveled to a ranch in the Midwest and flew back scruffy and dirty to a spacious apartment or condo. In 2001, I too left my family and went to study in South Korea. I had only been there a few weeks when 9/11 burst into our psyche. I was in my own alternate reality trying to make it, attempting to adapt, and once I could navigate through East Asian cities and countries I returned home. The novel ultimately is about our return and remembering those things that keep us grounded, like family but also dreams and acceptance that over time things get better. Despite the tragedies that people faced at all levels of reality, there was a return and a settling, and one can breathe with a sense of ease as things get back to a new normal.



Thursday, November 17, 2022

A New Conquest



 A New Conquest

By Armando Ortiz


Imagine drones rising above clouds

measuring the heights of the Andes

going a thousand meters above valleys,


imagine online pages tipping the balance of choice

causing chaos in those rural mountains

an uproar alights the high altitude villages,


close your eyes and see cathedrals falling

as unseen lenses hone in on its towers

everything now exposed for the world to see,


dreams of being watched 

and movements monitored

become a ticking reality. 


Our brave new world is here

the future happens now 

our faces recorded for eternity,


a new cavalry of empire builders

fly over the world making decisions

droning over who gets what,


remember the last Inca emperor, Atahualpa

and the overwhelming support of his people

scattering at the lightning crack of a canon,


recall Cuahtemoc who welcomed strange visitors

to his shimmering palace of quetzal feathers

only to be tied and executed for being of the devil,


musket fire and thundering sound

making SoCal natives shutter

running to the mountains and waiting.


An old world had landed on this world 

forever transformed the evolution 

man continuing recklessly as before,


this new world has returned

an order forcing change

turning of the corner for humanity,


this is the future

a new conquest

the way that will be,


creeping demons emerge from Xibala

that stars cannot decipher

but all humanity must adapt to,


gods no longer communicate with stars

they transmit dictums through glowing screens

denatured and desensitized with unfamiliar sounds.


Thursday, November 10, 2022

Prairie Creek Redwoods State Park: Road Trips from Los Angeles

Prairie Creek Redwoods State Park

By Armando Ortiz

This place is an emerald in the north of California. It is a beautiful spot that will make you return again and again for many years to come. If you decide to camp here make sure to stay at least four days, minimum because that is the time needed to really take in everything that there is in this area. You’ll see giant redwoods on your hikes, wild animals around, beaches that seem untouched by corporate development, and if you are respectful and keep your distance everything will be fine.

You will know that you are nearing this park because redwood trees will suddenly make their majestic presence known to you. You arrive at the park and take a lane that gives you a taste of the experience that you will be having. Entering Prairie Creek State Park there is a meadow that sorta makes one think of a giant footprint that was left there centuries ago. It might have very well been an old Grizzly from the Shasta region as he was laying out the trees and left the mark there, but that’s a totally different story. The likelihood of seeing elk is high since a group lives in the area.  

There are reservable campsites, some cabins, a small stream that runs through the park, and many hiking trails for all levels to explore. If considering a trip to the Northern Coast then this is a must for anyone. There is a prairie adjacent to the camp where Elk eat and lounge there during the day. Some of the trails are short and take you to the Old Tree, and Cathedral trees. There is a 16 mile round trip trail that takes you all the way to the beach and along the way you walk through the redwood. Leaving early you at times might feel that you are alone and the only one on the trail. Driving north 30 minutes from the park you reach Crescent City which is a few miles away from Jedediah State Park, another treasure trove of redwoods in California, which at the edge of the park is the Smith River, an excellent place to spend some time swimming and lounging.

Come prepared to stay here a few days and take into account the distance that you will be traveling. It took us about 12 hours total driving from Los Angeles to the Redwoods. Make sure to stock up in Arcata where there are several markets where food, drinks and ice can be purchased. Also, in case you forgot an outfit then there is also a Walmart and a Costco nearby. Also, it would be good to fill up on gas once in Arcata, though there is a Native American reservation, the Yurok Nation, that has a gas station and their prices are much lesser than what is the norm in towns and cities across California. Enjoy your visit!






Friday, November 4, 2022

MacArthur Park: Santos Explores the Neighborhood



 MacArthur Park: Santos Explores the Neighborhood

By Armando Ortiz

Santos returned home in the evening and was unusually chatty. He kept talking about all sorts of things. Bella had already cooked for the three of them. It had been a long time since he’d had yucca frita with chicharon, fried cassava with fried pork, a common staple back in many Central American countries. This was a comforting reminder that now he was with family. He ate his dinner and kept talking about his adventure earlier that day. Bella ate her food and listened to everything he animatedly said. As she took a bite of the crispy end of the pork bit that she had in her hand, her eyes turned to Betsy, who sat listening to her uncle’s story. Santos just kept talking and talking about how good the food was, savoring every bit of curtido and pork. Only once did mention getting his papers. 

“This is the best chicharon I’ve had since I left home, you really nailed the flavors of mom! Mmm, mmm, so good,” he said with a satisfied face.

“Y la mica?,”she finally interjected. 

He paused for a moment, licked his fingers, reached for the paper roll, tore a paper towel and wiped his hands. He dug into his right pocket and pulled out his green card. He was no longer Santos, instead he was Raymundo Toledo. 

Every morning everyone seemed to wake up after Bella took a shower, soon afterward Betsy would go into the bath, where mom would scrub her down. Then it was Santos, who would wake up last. He seemed to relish the extra hour from when Bella awoke. He knew he’d have to cook his own breakfast. He’d been in LA two weeks and had yet to find a job. He’d tell Bella that he was going out and meeting with old friends who worked in factories, hotels and other odd places. Once he was outside, he’d just disappear and merge with the crowds of people and the midday traffic, everything being flooded by that bright Southern California light. He’d come back home late in the evenings around the time when the city noise toned down for a bit and you could hear the buses pull up and leave.

Santos couldn’t believe that he’d made it to LA. He’d gone back and met up with Jose a couple of times who took him to have a giant burger at a place that was on 3rd street near Union Ave. Jose loved many things. He loved smoking his money on weed. One of his other loves was eating burgers. He also loved watching the high school girls that streamed bye in the afternoon, trying to get their number. After eating and talking to some girls they’d just walk around and see the movement of people and cars. All the cars would just swish on by and he’d just stare and imagine himself driving down Alvarado Street. 

Back home inside the brick building his sister would ask him how his job searching was going and he’d say that it was a struggle finding a job. What he really was doing was hanging out with his friend. Jose worked on the streets trying to get passersby to buy miccas, social security, identification cards and weed. MacArthur Park was the mecca for such transactions and the demand was endless. Every day people from different parts of Latin America, Europe and Asia came to this area only to buy fake papers.Santos didn’t feel right about what was happening and although he liked watching the hustle and bustle he knew that he had to try to get something legitimate.

One day as he was walking along 9th street on his way home, when he saw a sign that read, se necesita ayuda, help wanted. There was someone across the street washing some barrels with a hose. The water drained onto the side of the street and slowly moved towards Bonnie Brae St. He entered the building and inquired about the sign posted outside. The woman behind the counter had permed hair with curls, she said that the site was a popsicle factory and that work started at 3am and ended by 12 noon or you went in at 1pm and clocked out at 10pm. The factory made popsicles at night, and by the time all the popsicles of the day were done and  gone, the factory had to be cleaned up. There were two positions available: mixer or cleaner. Mixer started at 3am, while the cleaning job started at 1PM and ended in the evening.

They engaged in small talk. She was from El Salvador and had been in LA for almost two years. She was taking classes at Evans Adult School, attending night school taking English courses to improve her English skills and also to hopefully get a GED.

 “Your chances of getting a better job improve if you have a little paper that says you completed this much education.” She used her hand as if she actually held the frame of the certificate in her palms and said, “with a certificate you can make more money, and with money life gets easier.” 

“I’ll think about which position best suits me. I’ll return tomorrow with an answer,” he told her as he looked around in the office. The office was decorated by different colorful posters advertising their popsicles that were either water or milk based. One of the posters had LA PRINCESA written across in cursive. For a moment he got lost in thought and remembered eating helados, popsicles, with his grandparents when they’d take a trip to the capital city to visit relatives or to take care of official business like requesting a birth certificate or identification..

 “Here, take a card,” she said as she handed him a business card with the factory’s phone number from the stack that was laid out on the counter of her desk. He returned to where he was, and responded, “I live around the corner not far from here, I think getting here is faster than trying to find change to make the call,” he said shyly with a smile. “I’ll take one, just in case,” as he took the card he saw La Princesa on the upper left hand corner of the card. It was a dark red logo.

She smiled and replied, “I know how it is, that was me not so long ago. Bueno, buena suerte con todo y lo miró pronto aquí.” 

“Thanks,” he said. 

He turned around, and stepped out of the office and on to the flood of light. A couple of cars hummed on bye. His eyes squinted on the way out, but the sun’s rays were quickly soothed by a cool breeze coming from the west. He walked towards Alvarado St, he turned to see the building and noticed the factory logo again, La Princesa, he kept his stride and once he got there turned north, and continued walking towards the park. Things were looking good.