The main character is "Nez", which I believe is based on himself. The book gives you a lot of insight on how Mike feels and how he sees himself. Even though the story is fiction, I see it somewhat as an autobiography. I find it very personal and I'm happy that he would share it.

I'm not great at explaining things, so I just typed the plot description that is printed on the book.

Who is Neftoon Zamora? According to legend, a mystical person rumored to be part Zuni, part Martian, and part Delta blues musician- who came here from the Great Spirit, or maybe Mars, or possibly even Mississippi, thousands of years ago. Is Neftoon Zamora just a myth, a tale told by foools to children? Or is there an undeniably powerful presence living in a small, hidden settlement in the mountains of New Mexico?
Welcome to The Long Sandy Hair of Neftoon Zamora, a first novel of magical realism that is both humorous and heartfelt. When a musician named Nez stumbles upon a mysterious recording, he is captivated by the voice he hears. He immediately sets off on a road trip to New Mexico to pursue the enigmatic Neftoon Zamora, who he has heard is a venerated Indian chief or high priest. Stopping at a roadside diner, however, Nez encounters Neffie, a woman who may or may not be the person he seeks. Intrigued by the luxurious sandy hair that falls to her waist and the dazzeling light that lies behind her gray-green eyes, Nez accepts her proposal to help him in his search. What ensues is a journey of self-discovery that takes Nez from an enchanted canyon village to the desert enclave of a self-help guru and finally to the heavily guarded compound of a billlionaire megalomaniac who would destroy all the Neftoon Zamora symbolizes. A fascinating blend of adventure, myth, and romance, The Long Sandy Hair of Neftoon Zamora is a timeless love story that transcends and redefines the boundaries of faith.

Sounds good, doesn't it? Well, it is.

I decided to add a little sample of the book. It was hard choosing just one part, but I decided on this paragraph because.. well, because I did.

Here, Nez has just hurt himself pretty bad, he's unconscious and is hallucinating.

She is blond and blue-eyed and we are kissing in the front seat of the car, on the brown wool seat covers, and I can feel myself getting hotter and hotter, so hot there is no escape, until she pushes me away. She is walking home and carrying her schoolbooks across her chest, her arms wrapped around them. Why does she carry her books that way? She giggles. I rest them on the bone, she says, on the natural shelf I have down there. She is not embarrassed but curious about my reaction. My reaction is 'what bone?' but I say nothing. The Corvette is red and white and I am shaking so bad because I know if she can just see me in it, see me just once, she will think it is all OK, that I am all OK and she won't push me away again. I know it's the car. The old car with the terrible-sounding motor and the brown seat covers that are wool and so hot in the summer, so hot there is no escape, so hot. She is carrying her books and I come to a stop and offer her a ride but she must know I have gotten it from a car lot, that I have lied to the salesman and taken it for a test ride. She knows it will always be the hot wool seats and the musty smell of the old car, the torn headliner. She walks on and I see the smiling grills of the new cars beaming in the lot outside the store where the man plays the organ and fills the night air with the sounds of Telstar. Telstar by the Tornadoes. A slap and a swish, the sound rushes by, Sputnik, beep, beep, beep, RKO Radio Pictures lightning bolts in the black and white silver nitrate void of space with gravity, the gravity of the times. Got me run, hide, hide, run, anyway you want me, to roll. Yeah, Yeah, Yeauhh.

www.neftoonzamora.com
Videoranch
Buy it here an' Nez'll sign it for ye.