Please explain what just happened.

Millions of years ago two warring factions wanted to mine the precious material and resources of earth. This being hard labor, they picked the dominant ape-like species and jump started the DNA code to expedite evolution, creating a labor force. By placing the “moon” in Earth’s orbit they could observe the progress of this species and subtly influence them for one purpose or another. A giant flood wiped out all the technology and “man” was forced to start again. Then at some point I was born.

What is your earliest memory?

I remember getting my head stuck under my crib and crying out for help. My mother came into the room and explained I could simply turn my head sideways, which I did. I wasn’t a terribly bright child.

If you weren’t a film maker/illustrator, what other profession would you choose?

Batman. It would be really cool to have a costumed rogues gallery. There would be no mystery of who to be wary of. If they wear pancake makeup or a chimney sweep’s hat, you avoid them. I suppose that could be true in any line of work except chimney sweeping and being a mime. Also, he seems really organized…putting “bat” in front of everything he owns is a smart branding strategy. But not Joel Schumacher’s Batman. More like the Christopher Nolan version, because I like the ladies. Maybe a little of Adam West thrown in so I could dance the “Batoosy” at parties.

When did you start writing?

I was five, maybe six when I wrote and illustrated “My Autobiography.” I’ll read it to you: “I was born. I was a very very fat babby [sic].” I’d love to have that kind of brevity these days.

Who were you in a past life?

I’d like to say I was a vampire and that I’ve been around for eternity, but it’s simply not true. If I had to guess, I’d say I was either a French troubadour in the twelfth century or one of the painters of the Lascaux caves. I believe that we recycle proclivities from life to life. Which might explain why so much of my writing is infused with ideas from songs and/or images. Then again, maybe I was a snail, which might explain why I love being at home and traveling. Or perhaps I was an elephant, which might explain my preoccupation with memory and family.

What were you doing when the music died?

If you think it died when Bobby Kennedy was assassinated, then I was a young child, likely asleep at home (in Manhattan). But if you think it died when John Lennon was killed, then I was hanging out with an English musician named Roy Pries in a bar called the Catalyst in Santa Cruz, California. Suddenly a TV crew came in and started asking everyone how they felt about John Lennon dying. None of us had heard the news (oh boy).

Slade Ham reflects on his experiences with other people’s insanity, and realizes that, in the end, he might not be that much different himself.

My mother never trusted my brother and I in the bathtub alone for too long. She knew our three-year-old, TV-watching brains were hotwired for action and violence. If left alone for too long, she knew one of us could easily become the victim of drowning, suffocation by shower curtain, you name it. Soon, mom would [...]