Morningleaver

Prologue
I feel I need to explain a couple things before the actual entry below. First off, the following really has nothing to do with the band Polar Bear Club whatsoever, it's once again pretty much just about me. How can one person hate himself so much then go on about that very same subject matter for weeks at a time? It's probably science. Also, I go on a bunch using gross words about feelings and love. Obviously, it's all fiction. I mean, the only things I actually love is a bottle of beer and a nice fuck film. Lastly, I wrote most of this while PBC were in Australia and I took a vacation to the west coast to clear my head. As always, everything I write is all in fun and mostly untrue. Let's go!

Many moons ago, under this cold, calloused shell of mine, once beat a heart that pumped blood instead of an angry, black, jelly-like ooze. I’m talking about the good old days, back when my mane flowed like a Nordic god’s, the bags under my eyes were not yet tattooed on by time, and going against God's natural order, I actually had a girlfriend. Of course, I'm referring to the early 2000's, but as fondly as I remember the era now, not all was well. For instance, Saves The Day just put out "In Reverie," thus beginning an epic meteoric fall into mediocrity not seen again until Alkaline Trio's recent crawl into non-significance. And soon my salad days came to an end. Looking back, I should have recognized this as foreshadowing of bad things to come. (I half take back the Saves The Day/Trio Joke. The STD part I meant but I like the new Alkaline Trio record a lot. Plus, Skiba and I need to meet in order to discuss booze and pills.)

As for the girlfriend angle, well, I don't want to mention her name here or anywhere else for that matter. Based on previous experiences, if you say or type her name three times, she suddenly appears like a controlled hurricane, destroying everything in her way, including my self esteem, mental health, and most importantly, my checking account. But all those years ago, we lived together, liked each other, and even spoke of marrying each other. For about five seconds.

Easily the hottest girl I've ever had sex with that I didn't have to pay, I somehow kept her interest for about a year, which was quite the herculean task considering I most resemble a pint glass full of plain oatmeal. During a time when I should have been concentrating on graduating college and making positive steps towards our future, in the last couple months of our relationship, I instead chose to stay out late drinking, getting high, and ignoring my partner. But none of that truly matters for I'm the protagonist of this story and she's the dirty tramp that left me for another man when we were still a couple.

As I remember, the "man" she transitioned to straight from me was everything I was not. Neck tattoos, edge to the point of overcompensating for other personal shortcomings, mean, ugly as sin, and from all accounts, a misogynist. Ok, well, maybe we both had the whole woman-hating thing in common, but other than that we were like night compared to day. And if you haven't asked yourself yet, I'm sure you will now. The question that must be on your mind - "Why, Trevor? Why are you telling us all this? This isn't a Livejournal account or your junior high diary. We just want to read about Polar Bear Club tour dates, why do you insist on punishing us like this?" Well, if you don't see the similarities between my attractive ex girlfriend leaving me for another and Polar Bear Club (attractive girlfriend) recently ditching their trusty, yet homely tour manager for Australia (straight edge new boyfriend), well, you're just as crazy as a writer still in love with someone that bailed over six years ago.

One thing time has taught me is that I'm the same exact person that I was in the early 2000’s that I am in 2010, except now I live on a futon that isn't even mine. Oh, God, it's happening all over again! Stupid Australia and their colorful and shocking neck tattoos. I already know how I'm going to handle this one, the same way I handled my breakup all those years ago. First, drunkenly and alone, I'll probably hack my way into Polar Bear Club's Myspace and read all about how great, exciting and new Australia is. To my horror, I'll then stumble upon the messages any ex boyfriend or tour manager should always skip. You know, the ones that will go on and on about all the weird, taboo things Polar Bear Club and Australia do behind closed doors. All the acts that Polar Bear Club would NEVER do with me, even after two glasses of wine.

Secondly, time will go by and I'll tour manage or possibly even roadie again, you know, move on and such. Perhaps a younger band. Of course new band won't be as good looking as Polar Bear Club and they obviously won't be looking to settle down, but it will be a nice couple of months. I'm thinking Broadway Calls? Or maybe Defeater, if they ditch Jay Maas, of course. PBC and my new band, whoever they may be, eventually will have to run into each other on shows and probable tours. And yes, it will be awkward. I'll pretend to be having the time of my life, you know, laughing extra hard at the new lead singer's jokes and pretending to enjoy the new band's songs more than anything off Chasing Hamburg. The whole time, of course, I'll be dying a thousand deaths inside knowing that Goose is being told what to do by another.

And who knows? Someday down the line PBC and the drunk formerly known as Tracker may even work together again, much like the ex and I tried to work it out over the years. However, in both instances, it just won’t be the same. You see, life just isn’t like the movies. Up on the big screen, Lloyd Dobler from Say Anything stands outside Diane Court’s bedroom with a boom box outstretched over his head, pleading for his woman to come back and naturally, it just works out splendidly. In real life, well, in MY life, when I pull the same move, the ex girlfriend finishes blowing her new boyfriend and immediately calls the cops in search of an immediate and permanent restraining order. As far as Polar Bear Club goes, we’ll try doing weekend ventures here and there, but after a couple of beers I’ll insist they write down the name of every single tour manager they’ve been ever been with. It just can’t work; jealousy is an ugly monster, but not as ugly as a drunken Trevor.

The thing is, Polar Bear Club and I are actually still together with no plans of breaking up. (Well, until I get my grad school applications of course.) We have a lot of great things coming up, including the “Tour Of Bands I’ve Never Owned A Record By” with Every Time I Die, Trapped Under Ice, and Four Year Strong. Most importantly, I might actually wiggle my way into a pair of shorts for Warped Tour 2010. The lineup for Warped Tour? Well, a bunch of bands with members born when I was a college quadruple senior but I could use the sun. Unfortunately, as far as the ex, well, that never seemed to work out. Seven years later, I only think about her every second, every day. Eventually, hearing "no" was too much and all I could do was hop a plane to the west coast to start over. And with that, well, my flight to Portland is about to board. See you when I'm back, if I come back at all. (Clearly I came back, I’m finishing this up in Germany, nerds)