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'd been upstaged, demoted from protagonist in my own drama to comic relief in my parents' tragedy

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.

For some reason writing and drawing are very separate processes for me.

I suppose that a lifetime spent hiding one's erotic truth could have a cumulative renunciatory effect. Sexual shame is in itself a kind of death.

I love Jules Feiffer. I didn't discover him until I was a little older.

Watching everyone root through their psyche, it just delights me. Especially R. Crumb's stuff.