When I first went on [Facebook], I found there were five or six Creed Bratton sites. It was all over the place. I had to compete with other people saying they were me. It was nuts, so this is nice that people know that if they're gonna send something to me, I'm gonna be with my weird little mind looking at what they have to say. And what they're seeing is actually me.

In case you were wondering, my spirit animal is a duck billed platypus.

There's not that many people from the sixties who have progressed as writers and are continuing on. They're out there. But I'm one of them who's just continued on, following his own little inner madness.

No matter how you get here or where you end up, human beings have this miraculous gift to make that place home.

I don't want to take myself too seriously. That's my lesson to myself.

Nobody steals from Creed Bratton and gets away with it. The last person to do this disappeared. His name? Creed Bratton.

I liked back in the sixties where you'd turn on the radio and go 'Oh that's Hendrix, that's Creedence Clearwater, that's The Doors, there's The Grass Roots, The Monkees, there's Big Brother.' You could just instantly hear it and tell. But in the eighties and nineties there's no way you could do that.