This is the serial you may remember from your Last Whole Earth Catalogue -- but if you don't, and even if your catalogue's the Sears Roebuck, you may still feel a fugitive appeal. Divine Right's a young rapper (""Davenport's the name and weirdness is my game,"" he chatters though he's not so weird as he'd like to think) who drives a bedizened bus named Urge around the country in search of -- well, suffice it to say he winds up home, reconciled with his Christian name. But in the meantime he travels indiscriminately from rap to rap, happy to be bowled over by anybody's good talk, while his girl Estelle observes indulgently, ""He's such a fucking child."" He is, and it's a judgment that makes him and his life style all the more sympathetic and accessible, whether he's falling prey to The Greek's ancient-Sumerian-walnut-diet evangelism or chatting guilelessly with an overequipped proto-fascist called The Lone Outdoorsman. What's best though, and here we agree with D.R., is the talk that flows freely in a dozen different idioms, all faithfully and generously rendered. If there is a point it seems to be that far-out is nearer than you think and it's a happy conciliation.