Who are you?
And what have you done with the "'usual" Dave? I'm not sure I recognize this guy in the dead-sexy jeans. I didn't recognize him yesterday in his hipster Charlie and the Chocolate Factory t-shirt, which did in fact smell like chocolate. Oh I wasn't kidding. He had a quiet unfamiliar confidence as he sipped Heineken in a dive. He seemed more himself behind a pane of glass watching passerbys, but then that whole run outside and have people smell his shirt seemed a bit more flagrant than we're used to. Blame her. She's an influence.

Who is this guy, spending cheese, winking at the world like he's in on a secret? Windows rolled down, cruising on the highway, he reached up afraid that his hair would be mussed by the wind. Hair? There's not enough there to get mussed, son. Flashbacks to another time? Forward? or back? He's jamming to every song because it moves him. Disco? Oldies? Pop-Trans? They all need a thigh-slapping rhythm section. I saw him get out his iron today and when it refused to heat up, he wore his shirt anyway. Oh, yea. That's still our guy.

Phew.