As a small child, me and my pals fantasised about one day owning an ice-cream van. To have ice creams on demand would have been a dream come true.
My books are very few, but then the world is before me - a library open to all - from which poverty of purse cannot exclude me - in which the meanest and most paltry volume is sure to furnish something to amuse, if not to instruct and improve.
As far as someone who I would like to work with - this is super out of the box, and I have put this on my Twitter - Pam Grier. I love her. I just love her fierceness, and she's kind of, for me, one of the first black superheroes. I would love to have a chance to work with her.
Pam has always been my glamorous big sister - 13 years older than I. She played on the women's circuit for nine years and came home to tell me stories of France, Japan.
I am always surrounded by very, very charming men, very intelligent men with a great sense of humour who always keep me entertained and pampered.
I am the only girl in the family so everyone pampered me.
I have been a pampered boy, the youngest in the family with two elder sisters. I have always had someone around me, usually my mom, to take care of everything for me.
My brothers always like to believe that my father pampered me and I am spoilt. While it is not true, they felt that way. As for my dad, I could not do anything wrong. So, if I did something wrong, I would put the blame on them, and he would shout at them.
I haven't written a brochure yet. It's killing me. I know I have a brochure or pamphlet in me yet.
I wished to God the doctor had handed me a pamphlet that said, 'Hey, sorry about the autism, but here's a step-by-step list on what to do next.' But doctors don't do that. They say 'sorry' and move you along.
People say there's a book in everyone but I'm not sure there is. There might be a pamphlet in me.
It took me so many years to move out. I'm definitely a bit of a Peter Pan, reluctant to grow up. It all seemed really nice at home-why change it? Part of me would prefer not to have any responsibility whatsoever.
When people ask me about color in my work, I tend to say that it came from spending a lot of time in Panama.
Fame doesn't make me any different. I am the same man now who grew up in the hard streets of Panama. I am just myself. I always will be. Whoever wants to talks to me, talks to me. Whoever loves me, loves me for who I am.
I have never once celebrated a Valentine's Day as a romantic holiday. For me, it's another opportunity to tell my kids or whoever how much I love them. I hang pink crepe paper and make heart-shaped pancakes!
My parents were out of town and sent me to stay at my grandma's house. That's where I learned how to make pancakes. I served them to all the old ladies who lived on her block. After the meal, they each left a $5 bill next to their plates. I thought, 'Hey, I'm onto something here.'
I would experiment with porridge - make porridge pancakes, fry porridge - and so friends started calling me 'Porridge.' But I got to feel that I was becoming a character, a work of fiction, in a sense.
What is the luck of the draw that me - me - who finally writes a book, it comes out in the - in the - in the time, in the center of the first pandemic, H1N1? And I'm going out on signings, and I'm going out to the public. This is the one time when I need to be hermetically sealed.
Using the Internet as as vehicle to work with people is fascinating. It's sort of a Pandora's box of energy for me.
It's the one with that panel of ultra-chichi folks. The one called 'What's My Line?' It sends me straight up the wall. I call it 'The Snob Family.'
