[It's never really the abrasiveness that makes it's mark. It's the little snippets of truth that makes him flinch, eyes closing and mouth twisting for seconds too long for him to hide it.]

I was a performer. A very long time ago. But I wasn't that kind. [And that's no sarcasm, that is all bitter the whole scathing way down.] I wasn't interested in being a phony sellout. That was my dumb best friend's M.O.