I was born in a manger, actually a large and sturdy cardboard box filled with straw, in an alley next to the main L.A. railroad station. I never knew my parents because I heard it whispered that the birth was divine, and my parents were forced to leave town under cover of darkness. I played with others like myself in and around the station and attended the school the railroad ran in exchange for carrying railroad luggage 10 hours a day for two bowls of rice and some greens. I was suddenly adopted by a world-famous writer whose "writer's block" I filled for 20 years, learning the craft that would pester me to this day. Eventually, I managed to find a wonderful woman and we started a family by the sea where we remain. If you need any further information please use highway 101 phone box number 348 about 10 miles north of Goleta, Ca.