Nicknames, Part 1 (or Poindexter McEagle's Nest Makes a Splash)

I knew a pianist in college named Mike Disque who liked to give people nicknames.
Some he used all the time--a short and stocky man named Jeffrey, who was obsessed with train simulation programs and wore a big mustache and aviator style glasses, came up in conversation often, but never as Jeffrey. Always, "Turd Ferguson."
Some I heard only once-- my friend Mandy, a Catholic who dressed in Goth clothing and make-up, was "the Gothlic," but I only know that because I was there when she asked him to tell her.
My own name I asked for repeatedly, but heard only third-hand after I graduated-- "Pooh Bear."

There was a new freshman pianist my senior year of college who was discussed widely in the music department, discussed because he was talented and seemed borderline crazy. His real name was Brent, which I only just now remember after several days of puzzling it over. It's taken me several days because I always refered to him as "Poindexter McEagle's Nest," the name Mike gave him. "Poindexter" described his manner and appearance-- he was tall and thin, with an awkwardness that most people attributed to homeschooling. "McEagle's Nest" was for his job working the fryer at the student commons, "the Eagle's Nest," which is where I saw him most, usually in a t-shirt mapping the human muscular system. I saw him somewhat less frequently around the music department, but it's there that he interacted wiith me.
"What's your favorite Beethoven Piano Concerto?" is the only thing I can remember him saying directly to me (mine was #5, his the less obvious and to me unfamiliar #3).

Poindexter is most remembered now (at least by people I know) for his first departmental recital, for whiich he played Chopin. I can't remember the exact piecee, but it was fast and somewhere in the middle of the piece he got lost and started improvising. This in itself was not unusual, and would have gone unnoticed had he not started audibly whispering to his fingers as he did it.
"No. No, that's wrong. Try that one. No, wrong too. Ah, that's better. No, no, uh. Hmm, uh. No, okay. Hmm."
Having worked his way to the end of the piece with out stopping, young McEagle's Nest stood and awkwardly bowed to the scattered applause. Then, as he descended the stage, he tripped and fell. He did not fall as most people do, wiith his arms in front of him to brace the fall. He threw his arms back, as though diving, and landed flat on his face. He fell next to the front row, grabbing the thigh of a horrified Tricia Pifko. There, face down on the floor of the small recital hall, Poindexter McEagle's Nest was heard to say,
"What a great way to end the performance."