Well, I'm always working on my comic strip and trying to, you know, keep cranking that out.

It was not a triumphal return. Home, as I had known it, was gone.

At first I was glad for the help. My freshmen English class, "Mythology and Archetypal Experience," confounded me. I didn't understand why we couldn't just read books without forcing contorted interpretations on then

I grew to resent the way my father treated his furniture like children, and his children like furniture.

And partly, the worst thing you could do in my family was need something from someone. So physical strength represented an avenue of self-sufficiency to me.

Autobiographical comics, I love them. I love them.

It was a vicious cycle, though. The more gratification we found in our own geniuses, the more isolated we grew.