Where the hell have I been? I'll tell you where: on the streets, cutting off Hummers at every opportunity, drafting behind semi-trailers. In the restaurants, serving up wines and cheeses and meats. In the movie theaters, watching No Country For Old Men and Cloverfield and enjoying each very much. Re-arranging my room, chopping up the old queen-sized bed for firewood and returning to the ancient method of spartan and mobster alike of curling up on a mattress on the floor. At my parents house, teaching my nephews that constant snacking is much better than limiting yourself to three meals a day.

Clattering away on my typewriter. I'm enjoying it; email me your address and I will send you a letter of all the secret things I do that I won't post online for fear of national authorities, both foreign and domestic.

What else?

Oh, planning motorcycle trips across the country once the snows melt. Also, preparing for the elections in the usual way; by stockpiling sawed-off shotguns, solar panels, and water-purifiers.

I can be considered an optimist because I'm so pessimistic that anything short of the Earth imploding can only come as a pleasant surprise.