Ames Progressive

From the Boheme (R.I.P.) to the M-shop and the Practice Space, the best music in Ames is contained within various and sundry living rooms, and I am proud to announce that there is another to add to that esteemed list: the Ames Progressive Office. The shows at the Ames Progressive Office continue in a more substantial way what was going on in my living room last semester. I have a theory that if, no I should go back further. It’s not even my theory.

One night last summer, I came home and found Nate sitting on our old brown chair, which my parents bought shortly after they were married, with a slightly stunned look on his face. Interpreting this as anticipation for the deluge of words describing my night, I opened the flood gates.

After waiting and rocking slightly for 15 minutes he said, “I have to tell you about my night, but maybe I’ll just have to tell you several stories over the next few days.”

Because I knew that it was rare for Nate’s experiences to fall off the periphery of his vocabulary into ineffability, I was now anxious for what his excited mind could piece together.

He had met Don, and that turned out to be an experience that causes you to go over all the events of your life that were necessary to construct that moment, down to the lowest form of your existence, when you were two half cells among billions twisting together, and beyond. But we can return to the west side walk of Campus Avenue on the 100 block.

Don had been holding a conversation with himself in which his long-held conviction that for artists, opportunities are sent from the Creator that enable them to create- was being challenged.

“Ahright, prove it to yahself then. Talk to this guy.”

So from atop his red bike he hollered to Nate, “Hey you an ahtist?”

“Well, I don’t know if I’m an artist but I like art. I like to study art and philosophy,” Nate responded, assuming Don was commenting on his long hair and beard, and sensing apprehensively that his night would be held up by a crazy conversation with a drunk man.

“Oh, you’re a philosopher then.”

“I guess.”