Sunset on The Lift

Two weekends ago, I was turning right onto Taft Hill road in Fort Collins, I was looking forward to sleep in a hotel room. My wife, mother-in-law, and I just left a large emotional wedding and were ready to get back to our normal lives. Well, like I said, I was actually was looking forward to the hotel room. I love hotel rooms.



Seconds later, the cops pulled me over cuz of a broken taillight, and thought I was drunk. But I passed their drunk-tests with grace, humility and curiosity. Ironically- the drinks I had earlier had calmed me down, my heart was not beating staccato, I was zenful…




That weekend, I had dreams of a screenplay that I would soon write, a story about the Ben Wiebsiek that haunts my brain, this large greenhouse, a beautifully realized tragic story about the exaggerated Denver that nobody but me has realized, a lost girl buying a beat-up pickup and filling the sad vehicle over-capacity with all of her possessions, her boyfriend and his brothers chasing her across the prairies and mountains, looking to steal back their father’s prized Russian pistol.

They meet, probably halfway through the film, but as my brain reminds me- no clichéd boy-meets-girl-falling-in-love crap! But we fight, still, ‘cuz I love love.

And there’s Ben’s old father, half-crazy living in a trailer, picking old songs on a guitar his mom bought. He’s apocalyptic and keeps a pretty plant in a plastic tube, hoping they’ll shoot it into space when the earth blows up…

Here’s Meyer at Long Lake last weekend.



It's a good thing that I go to the mountains a lot more now. When I was in college I always felt a lot of guilt because I never went to the mountains.



It's tiring, and Meyer is heavy on my back, but I'm happy because he gives me the excuses I need to do the things that I want to do...



And it's great when he goes to sleep...