"The revolution will come when we ignore the others out of existence."
-William Burroughs

Read more about (and even purchase!) the book here, where Crossing Chaos has already assembled a really great page for it, featuring summary, reviews, and an excerpt. If you care to hear me ramble a little about it read on:

With Asphalt Flowerhead I was evoking the way my generation, or at least the members of my generation I've grown up and developed with, thinks. It's a book about the unsystemized trying to exist in a systemized world, shooting for freedom when freedom itself is a place that's illegal, trying to build happiness when the ingrediants for it have been buried, and trying to discover what these things mean. This is in no way something that hasn't been done before - even in the last 100 years we had books like The Sun Also Rises and the literature of the Beat Generation that all tried to capture their own unique societal predicament. But our generation, this new one just blooming, the Numb Generation as I think of them or at least the generation belonging to the Digital Age, has not received that kind of treatment yet. Today we are looking at a very, very different world, and as a member of the new youth, I can say that we are feeling very different sorts of things. This is my attempt to diagnose a part of that mindset. Everything I do will always be diagnosing that, and hopefully we see a lot more attention paid to it by visionaries in years to come.

Anytime I write a book it ends up being a pill filled with everything that led up to it. With Asphalt I made the decision to try and write about Needham, the town I grew up in, and the sort of subversive (and often drug-riddled or stuffed with all sorts of strange thinking) mindset it brewed up. I gave up very early on trying to do that but it ended up being about that anyway. That's what I mean; I try to write a book that's just a story, that I can detach from, and the more I try to get away from it the more I realize I'm writing about exactly what just happened. Sorta. Distilled emotions and memory junkyards. Huh?