The details of my life are quite inconsequential... my father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with a low-grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy - the sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament.
My childhood was typical. Summers in Rangoon, luge lessons... in the Spring we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds -- pretty standard really.