I try to remember your name, I really do. You introduce yourself and I think to myself, like Heather Graham on Scrubs, "Daniel. Daniel. Daniel." But that happens thirty times a night, and I can't remember your name. I might remember that you drank a Wittkerke once, and that you didn't like it. I might remember that you dumped popcorn on your head, that one time. I might remember when we had that conversation about that Spoon song (btw, Lindsey, I am still obsessed with them thanks to your friend who turned me onto them, like, eight years ago). There's a chance I recall your physiognomy in general. But there are a lot of you, and there is one of me, and people, it does not matter if you are black or white or yellow or red or purple: you all look green to me.