Morning View at Trash Bar

As the obligations of “Morning View” as a band winded down, I found myself at a brand new job, and out of a toxic on-and-off relationship. The time I had spent inside that prison was amongst the worst I’ve ever experienced with another human being, and the chaos associated with my artistic endeavors magnified any personality differences we had. With an approaching performance at Brooklyn’s Trash Bar, I found myself spending more time with Brenna, a friend who had thankfully assisted me in obtaining my gainful employment. Serving as my supervisor in the workplace, we spent our days in constant communication, leading to open-ended invitations at the end of each work shift. One night became two nights. Two nights became four. As I distanced myself from the trauma of past relationships, I drew closer to her. Unwilling to admit what I was feeling, I continued to act the part of a rockstar. We were roommates who slept together, “that’s it”, and my options were to remain open. It was showtime, and as I took the stage with beer seeping through my pores, I can see her standing in the back of the venue, focused, watching my every move. I callously flirt as I work the room in my normal fashion; a feeble attempt to maintain my “masculinity”. There were plenty of mistakes that were made on stage, but with the way things were musically, we simply rode the wave of our final performance that year. The miniature “pops” received in between each song propelled us into the next. As strange a feeling as it was, and with all the admiration felt that night from the crowd, I only found comfort in knowing that I wouldn’t be going home alone. I felt a shift in my attention and appreciation, and it seemed that growing up was inevitable.