Naked in my living room.

My earliest childhood memories are of my incarceration. Until my 15th year, I was held in the Troutdale Asylum for the Criminally Delicious. I was released just after Flag Day, 1992, when the wardens discovered that I had for some time been injecting myself with a potent and zesty speedball composed of various spices-notably coriander, cumin, and nutmeg. (I had acquired said spices through various schemes and daring escapades. The coriander came from the courtyard garden, cultivated by a man who kept a cat who looked like Hitler. The cumin, I collected from the storm drains after the Vindaloo Rains of 1989. And the nutmeg I carefully rendered from Christmas breads-which were, of course, stolen.) This concoction had rendered me permanently unpalatable, and thus, unsuited for the asylum. The long-term effects are still unknown, though still, in the summer, I tan to a fine nutmeg.