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In 81,I was living with my friend Chris on the streets.I came back to New York after bombing out in Cali.I was sure I had what it took to become a successful cartoonist,though.I just didnt have my shit together enough to print books up.I barely had my shit together enough to shoplift food,run street hustles,and find places to crash out in.But I knew I had my finger on something:my punk rock comics were funny.People liked them,and this encouraged me.They were about real things,albiet exxagerated,and I stuck with them.On the side I became a graffiti fanatic,destroying property with huge murals,dumb slogans,and daring (I thought) social commentary-you know,stuff like "Fuck Marines","US Out of my Pants",and "Guys-Eat More Pussy".At this point there was a sense of desperation in the artistic circles I ran in.A sort of nihilistic,end of the world exscuse to misbehave.Reagan was president,and he was bound to kill us all in a nuclear war,we were sure of it.Hippies were unsupportive and dismissive of punks.It was all about the bands though,even though I think the only ones left for me were like,The Dead Boys and S.L.F..I wasnt into hardcore yet,really-it wasnt as "art house" cool as other shit.For this I was routinely stomped by skinheads.My friend Forrest "fire" Macguire took me under his wing,He was in the city scoring dope from Chris,having been beaten out of Hoboken by phone book wielding cops.I was too broke to do Heroin,and was more of a beer and weed guy.Me and Forrest hit it off,and he felt bad for me living in filthy alley ways and building doorways on Rivington Street.He secured me a job in Vermont with a free place to live picking apples.He warned me not to be myself,and that the work was hard and the hours intense.In the early 80s,hippys would work off thier student loan debt picking apples,up there with the Jamaican's and Florida black people the orchard paid to bring up there,since you only had a month or two to harvest.Once there,I met Klaus,a crazy tall wierdo collage artist guy.He had a cabin on the orchard,and introduced me to mail art.He was a fellow punk rocker,only a country one.We blasted Gun Club and Rezillo's and Black Flag,doing crazy art and swapping stories.I also had alot of time to put out a zine,since there was nothing to do in Vermont except get drunk and look at mountains.Klaus also hooked me up with Mike Gunderloy of Factsheet Five,and soon I was mailing out zines all over the place!I also got a gig helping out some hippies with thier weed harvest,so by the time I left,I had like 2000 buck's and a couple pounds of weed.I came back to the city and me and Forrest blew all the bread we made on dope,Walkmen 2's,leather coats from Trash and Vaudeville,and new record albums,but I did manage to save enough to put out 2 issues of Anarcomix,which got good reviews and people liked.I was only 17 then,so it meant alot to me to see my name in a review,or see my shit printed.It still does,really.It makes it all worth it.

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