When I was around 18 years old I found myself increasingly at odds with my country—my countrymen and countrywomen actually. By the time I was 21, things got so bad that I dropped out. Fell out, really. This is a big part of what my new book is about. I stayed underground for nearly thirty years. I occasionally get flak for “being a bum” from a certain kind of person who is troubled by The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill. I don’t think I ever say it explicitly, but I was living the way I did, not because I didn’t like to work, but because I couldn’t accept the American way of life. The book and the film yanked me back into the game. For the last few years I’ve been getting back in touch with the way things work here. At first, the change was somewhat exhilarating. I’ve gone from living on roof tops and in storerooms to being a home owner. Now I find myself, once again, deeply at odds with the society I live in. I’ve had trouble posting lately because I don’t feel right about complaining all the time. But I see very little that has any value these days, and I see much that is destructive. Sometimes I think that I should write about the world that I’d like to see. Maybe I will. I want to be positive, but there’s just so little to be positive about in this particular era. I think of it as the Reagan Era. I know I’m going to write something about the economy soon, which is going to be hyper-negative. Just a warning! Meanwhile, I’m hard at work, six days a week, on Street Song.