I never book commercials because I'm too angry and the commercial world is that ridiculous

like honey, how'd you get the shirt so fresh?

You know what I mean?

Like that ridiculous like the world is falling a shit but the biggest thing is how did you

get?

So I'm always improvising like honey, honey, honey, how do you get the shirt so fresh?

I mean one out of three people are in jail these days, people are stabbing each other

for food, not half a block away from this audition, yet you get the shirt so fresh.

How do you do it?

We're trapped in a loveless thing?

I mean I just stay in my room, it's stare, and I stare, and when you knock and say

oh you are right, I pretend, I say yes, it's not true, yet you got the shirt fresh, how

do you get the shirt fresh amid so much sorrow?

I mean the sorrow is incomparable, especially in our household, and in your parents household,

it's just been a history, it's been generational of absolutely so crushing sorrow, but you and

your mother get the shirts fresh.

You know it's funny, is people stop laughing at this bit after a while?

So what I would do is I put on Afro Caribbean paint, like a white and black paint and black

at my eye, so I look like this sort of Afro Caribbean voodoo icon, then wouldn't speak

to anybody, wouldn't say a word, so I projected this aura of horror, oh my god, he sounds

like a good lover.

You don't have to make rude noises.

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