Intersections

An Aztec San Judas Tadeo

The fireworks boomed across the sky starting late Tuesday night. At midnight, it was October 28, and thus the feast day for San Judas Tadeo. He is the patron of lost causes -- an office which makes him hugely popular among certain segments of the population in Mexico City: cholos, ambulantes, addicts, barrio people and the people who love them. All day, more fireworks.

The above photo, taken Wednesday afternoon, is by Livia Radwanski, who also documents the sonidero subculture in D.F. The man pictured proudly carried his San Judas statue in an Aztec-like headdress and a sequined robe. Behind him, neo-indigenist groups danced and drummed all afternoon in the middle of Paseo de la Reforma.

Scorpio is here

* Above, acrylic and aerosol on canvas, by Sergio Hernandez.

Scorpio is here, and we all know what that means -- besides ferociously mythical horses. It's birthday time! On November 4, I turn 29. Yes, it's been another intense year. Right now, "it looks like you are in this serious work, reflective, looking to the future phase of your life," a friendly amateur astrologist just informed me.

I'd say that's about right. I'm writing, working, waiting, looking ahead. I've survived all the mid-twenties death-traps and I'm ready to relish in the sweet stings of late-youth. At least I know Fergie is by my side. And 15th Century Middle Eastern anatomical drawings. And Dolly Parton.

Above, modeling a one-of-a-kind hand-studded San Judas Tadeo sweatshirt by designer Uriel Urbán, available in Los Angeles exclusively at New High (M)art. Remember, October 28 is the day for San Juditas. This year, the saint has certainly earned it.

Mexico City is once again wintry and wet around these death-festive dates. The cool reminds that the month of Scorpio is about remaining calm and enjoying the ride. You handle yours, I'll handle mine.

* Link-in image, colored pencil on canary paper, by Kathryn Garcia.

Disco nightmares: The Dr. Lakra mural

Here's a detail of the massive Dr. Lakra mural on view for just a couple more days at Kurimanzutto. Surrounding you on all sides, and sometimes spilling onto the floor, the whole thing felt like an out-of-control trip down the darkest disco tunnels. Sex, witchcraft, disfigurement, oozy acid tripping on cruise ships and frightening hotel rooms. The technical qualities of the installation are outstanding; Lakra put his work in.

And, I might be wrong, but the tattoo artist must also have caught a tag in the sidewalk concrete out front as they were building the new space. Thumbs up.

* Traveling for a few days. Back soon.

Excavations: 'Sweet Child O' Mine' *

I'm telling you. Disregard, momentarily, every preconception you have about what Guns N' Roses might signify in the wideness of our pop universe. Disregard, if you can, Axl Rose's long record of irresponsibility, homophobia, and racism. Just watch above, like more than 20 million others have, preferably on blast.

"Sweet Child O' Mine" is a perfect rock ballad. Axl sings and moves incredibly. Slash (Time's second-best electric guitar player of all time, after Jimi) and the band play incredibly. The whole thing feels incredible -- in that late-period hair-metal lost-Hollywood early-90s sort of way.

Then reconsider "Don't Cry" and that epic journey, "November Rain." Cinematic rock-n-roll genius is what I call it. Growing up, there was plenty of appreciation among my siblings for Hendrix, The Doors, and Santana. With MTV invading our brain back then, it was easy to make room for some Guns N' Roses, too. (We just never admitted it much.)

You're not being asked to buy into the "new" Guns N' Roses, by any means. But as a slight rubric on how to consider the influence this band has had on our generations, take a look: People are still dressing like them.

Residente of Calle 13, true Latin American activist

Activism is not only about organizations and grassroots and lefty news media. It's basically about seizing the opportunity. Consider: On Thursday night in Los Angeles, Residente of Calle 13 (previously blogged here) hosted the MTV Latino awards. Sensing an opportunity, he used his platform -- millions of viewers up and down the Western Hemisphere -- to verbally assault just about every major free-market-friendly, authoritarian-leaning Latin American political figure currently sitting in power.

He called the (Republican) governor of Puerto Rico -- where fed-up workers staged a general strike the same day -- an "hijo de la gran puta." He said Cristina Kirchner of Argentina gets too much Botox. He ordered Mexican President Felipe Calderon to basically shut up and get to work, then added "¡Viva México cabrones!" Of his native island, Residente said that "Latin America is incomplete without a free Puerto Rico."

Damn.

Between each performance and award, Residente changed his T-shirt, each one pushing a cutting new political message: "México nunca olvida, 2/oct/68" said one (Thank you), "Uribe paramiltar," said another.

Watch the punk-recorded clip above. When the camera seems to prepare to cut away from him, Residente stops the photographer, "Wait there, wait there, wait there!" He proclaims openly: "I say it here because I have power."

Wow. No wonder some of the thin-skinned Latin American politicians he (justly) skewered delivered public responses to René Pérez's on-air comments. "What are we teaching our children?" asked Marcos Rodríguez Ema, interior secretary of Puerto Rico, surely with appalled indignation. Colombia also responded, but ... come on, homie isn't making this shit up.

Fact is, René Pérez seems to me the sanest and most honest person on both our continents right now. He smartly wields his sex and pop appeal to speak truth to power, making him one of very few MTV-level figures in any language who recognize the urgency of the contemporary moment.

Needless to say, I'm a follower.

Hello Monday, hello Mexico

I know I said I'd be shutting off for the month of October to finish up the manuscript. Change of plans. I'll be checking in once a week from now on, on either Sundays or Mondays, for the sake of keeping the page fresh. In addition, I'll still be posting at The Faster Times Mexico page, but also only sporadically until the main project is finished. Thanks for bearing with me.

Busy, busy, busier than ever. I'm working on an exciting new multimedia project, similar in some respects to this. I can't wait to tell you more once the first phase is completed.

The writing is coming along, bit by bit. It's back to work now.

P.S. For my desk snacks tonight, readers may appreciate being informed that I'm having Oaxacan peanuts (salted, mixed with chunks of roasted garlic and red chiles), Oaxacan grasshoppers al mojo de ajo, and a Oaxacan manchego cheese made with chile rajas and epazote. Bought it all today for very cheap from a vendor two blocks from my door.

I've also really been getting into sidewalk tlacoyos lately, but more on that later ... Eating in Mexico, consistently a source of refreshing pleasure.

* Photo above, your blogger on a footpath in a protected forest near Ahuatepec, a community between Cuernavaca and Tepoztlan, Morelos, Sunday, 4 October 2009.

The Juanito show: 'He's crazy' **

* Above, the headband then said "Delegado," Iztapalapa, 11 July 2009.

** NOTE TO READERS: I'll be updating this month at The Faster Times Mexico.

Before he became the official delegado-electo of the Iztapalapa borough, the largest and most troubled in Mexico City, Rafael "Juanito" Acosta was a simple street vendor and rank-and-file leftist activist, a member of the tiny Workers Party who at some point got to wearing a tricolor headband that became his trademark, the word "Juanito" scribbled on front. Affable and seemingly harmless -- if a bit inarticulate in his language -- "Juanito" unexpectedly became a pawn this summer at the hands of Andres Manuel López Obrador.

Obrador, who still insists the 2006 presidential election was "stolen" from him, should have known better than anyone else that one of the perils of manipulation is that it can always back-fire on you. Let's look at a previous post for the back-story:

"Juanito" ... struck a deal with allies in the opposition wing of the PRD, led by López Obrador, in which he would resign the office the day he assumes it [... and ...] would be required to appoint a replacement. That replacement is to be Clara Brugada, the AMLO-supported PRD candidate who was not allowed to run for Iztapalapa chief. The PRD wing currently in power, known as "Los Chuchos" for party president Jesús Ortega, muscled their own person on the ballot there.

But soon after the July 5 election, in which Juanito won, the headband-wearing street vendor turned into a political Frankenstein. He announced that, Nevermind, he'll stay as chief of Iztapalapa as the voters declared -- AMLO, Clara, and the whole deal be damned.

This of course caused a sensation. AMLO had warned Juanito -- as I witnessed at a huge rally in Iztapalapa -- against succumbing to the "siren song" of power. Acosta conveniently forgot that the people in fact did not vote for "Juanito" specifically but for Juanito as the front-man of AMLO's wing of the PRD. Yet for the first time, it seemed, a little guy was standing up to the arrogance and machinations of Mexico's political caudillos. And why not? When does a guy like Juanito -- like us? -- get to run a demarcation more populous than several Mexican states? Who cares if he's, uh, a little crazy?

For weeks, Rafael Acosta appeared on the front pages of all the D.F. papers and several magazines (including this month's Chilango). Seminal Mexican rocker Alex Lora said he'd write Juanito a song. El Universal detailed Juanito's "fifteen pleasures," revealing pertinent trivia such as his favorite team (Cruz Azul) and movie ("Rambo"). Then he went topless at the Mr. Mexico competition, and everyone loved him for it.

Meanwhile, Juanito armed himself with a war-room to prepare for his administration, while it seemed like every politician who was not immediately allied with AMLO was willing to give Juanito a chance -- if only to further weaken and fracture the left until the next election in 2012. Juanito was more than willing to oblige; tabloids published photos of Juanito meeting with the local head of the PAN, the boogeyman conservatives.

Then, just when the spectacle couldn't get any weirder, the delegado-electo emerged from a meeting with Mayor Marcelo Ebrard on Monday and abruptly announced he would not assume office on October 1 after all -- seriously this time. AMLO-allied groups in Iztapalapa were organizing rallies against him, and a poll found he was in fact not more popular in the borough than Clara Brugada. Ebrard reportedly told Juanito he could guarantee his safety and that there could be social unrest in Iztapalapa if he did not honor his side of the pre-election deal.

But who knows what was really said between the two men. El Universal reported that Ebrard was told, "He's crazy," and then somehow convinced Juanito it would be worth his while to step aside. On Thursday, he took office, then filed for a leave of 59 days, naming Clara Brugada as his successor. Along the way, he took off his red PT necktie and stomped on it, shouting incoherently, "Traitors! PR ... PT!" His career as delegado of Iztapalapa over in just a couple hours, Juanito was whisked out of the D.F. legislative assembly hall through a back-door, and is reportedly heading to the beach.

I count myself among the many people in Mexico City who were torn about what to think of Juanito. In some way, he is a victim of the political status quo, and an unlikely sort of a hero. On the other hand, the thought of a clownish "Juanito" running a place as big and complicated as Iztapalapa was ... a little frightening.

We'll see what Rafael Acosta has planned for 2012. Juanito, Hope?

* BLOG NOTE: Intersections goes dark until November 1. Please be patient as I complete revisions on the draft of my book. As ever, thanks for the comments and feedback! Heart, D.