That was Dylan. For me I know exactly where it started. An eleven-year-old on a paper route with too much time to think, and too wild an imagination.

That turned into a couple shows put on at my jr. high school. And from there it was on.

I'd actually started drawing earlier. For some reason I think in pictures first.

And did I mention being cursed with the thing that infects all comics? The thrill, the elation, the greatest effing feeling in the world: making people laugh. Once you get struck with that, it's nearly always fatal. Or at least a lifelong, incurable malady.

The last thing was growing up in Seattle. It wasn't the rain, rather the relentless cement grey days, one piled on top of the other, beating dreary into every pore of your body. My promise then to myself to live without clouds, to live someday in California, made the choice of a film and tv career a slam dunk.

So that's how this all began. A kid with a news bag slung over his shoulders, on yet one more dismal day, trying to keep his brain entertained.

That was thrust upon me. The rest is my fault.