I grew up in a small town with two streets, with two churches, with two stores, and with two gas stations. It was two kilometres from the north shore of Lake Eire. My family was pretty poor, and sufficiently fucked up for artistic purposes, but not so fucked up to make me a serial killer. I went to a little school filled with little snot nosed ape like creatures. I was friends with a few of them, but most tried to poke me with little sticks, and I am only exaggerating slightly. High school was no better. Due to my social inadequacies, I spent a lot of time by myself and started to write poetry. I believed it was brilliant. It probably wasn’t. But I showed it to friends and since then I’ve been published about a zillion times. Went to university, got drunk, stoned, fell in love, fell in hate, and wrote about it. I wrote and acted in plays, travel through and into distant lands. In one of those lands, I got married and produced offspring.