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This is a must-see site. This book is on the cutting-edge of psychedelic writing, a crazy story about hippies who travel through time and cross dimensions to encounter the Goddess Kali.

Many of us have heard about the predictions that the world would end, or that major changes would be taking place in the year 2012. What is your take on this? Me? Well, I don't believe that the world will end in 2012, but I have been fascinated with the topic since I was a school kid and I read about the Central and South American Indian cultures.

Colin Woodard suggests that we've been vastly oversimplifying things by talking about America's internal divisions between red states and blue states, between "the coasts" and the "heartland," between the urban and the rural or even the North, South, Midwest and West. Instead, the veteran journalist slices North America (sans Mexico from Tampico south) into eleven culturally distinct regions that look something like a continentally gerrymandered map gone wild.

How hard will they look, though, really? Why did they go to all the trouble of scaring the bejeesus out of us with the hour-long sermon on the futility of escape, if we were really so hopelessly trapped? Starting to think it's all just hype.

Like an unwelcome long-lost lover who presumptuously returns and resumes residence without the tiniest accounting of possible changes in the interim, my alter ego has been pulling harder on the reins.

Llewellyn's job is to sort and search these files, divining interconnections between them and leading the mouse pointer to the likeliest prospects. It is an inexact science, to say the least-but, with history to corroborate recollections of notable avatars, it is actually less so than, say, psychology, in which my past-life regression therapist holds a distinguished Ph.d.

We had determined, by cross-referencing my recovered memories, that my most recent life had be that of Norman Hartweg, a no-name playwright from California, who was best known as Tom Wolfe's snitch for The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test

"Then one day I went out to see a friend, and I didn't have much cash on me. This weaselly kid, who I didn't really like, came up to me and gave me this whole cock-and-bull story about he was getting thrown out of his place, blah, blah, and I was getting impatient, and I told him flat: I couldn't help him that day."