Posts, Pictures, and Pointless Ephemera
Clem Lyson is a thoughtful chap. He spends his days thinking about the orbs and the music of the spheres. He also has a mystical bent that transforms him into a mini-street preacher. But he holds his tongue and ministers to his inner self. His sweater is of pima cotton. Light blue. It's his revelatory sweater, since when he wears it he receives sublime divine messages and sometimes a number of horse at the track.
The sweater. He hated it when he first got it as a Xmas present from Aunt Della when he was 16. Didn't get it. It was green cashmere, but of the shade that reminds you of old men on golf courses. But now that he's 24, in between jobs and has a natural tendency toward clothes that'll make him look hip, he loves it. Wears it even in hot weather. Like today. He's going to see some friends play at a wedding (no, he's not a guest), then later will stop by and say Happy Birthday to Aunt D.
He is every girl's nightmare blind date.