#6 The Horns Band Residency, Third and Final Night 10/4/14
A couple of years ago I took what may turn out to be my last trip to Bloomington, Indiana to help my parents move out of the house that they had lived in for thirty-five years and that I grew up in. We packed up, gave away or threw out an enormous amount of stuff over the course of a few days and as we did so my nostalgia for material things faded rapidly, with few exceptions. One of those was a windbreaker of my dad's from the public school where he directed band for thirty-odd years, Lora L. Batchelor Middle School. The school colors at the time were orange and black. So I returned to New York with this bright orange jacket with a big black cursive B on the front and "Batchelor" printed in black letters on the back. It makes me feel good to wear it somehow so I walk around Brooklyn with this item of clothing on my back that I have come to realize is a fetish object for hipsters. Guys with tight pants, effiminate beards and trucker hats and chicks with tatoos, piercings and greasy hair make eye contact with me, smile and say stuff like "Dude! Awesome!" as I make my way down Fifth Avenue. It's kind of nice, I have become important.
Yesterday as I was loading my gear into IBeam for the second night of my residency there a passing stranger approached me, visibly excited. He was not a hipster. This man appered to be genuinly down on his luck. He had sad, sunken eyes and a jittery, frightened energy, as if he was ready for someone or something to pounce at any moment. He smiled at me nervously and said "Man, I really like that jacket." I thanked him and turned to open the door. When he failed to move on I turned back towards him. He seemed to expect something more from me. After a long, awkward pause he said "I just went through a divorce too. I admire your courage, man, just putting it out there like that. Batchelor. Yeah man, you just gotta own it". I started into an explanation of what the jacket really meant but quickly thought better of it. Instead I mumbled something about solidairty that seemed to satisfy him. He hi-fived me with a big, relieved grin on his face and was on his way. I felt like a total asshole.
Below is an example of the profound experience that you can expect if you come out to the final show of our residency tonight.