So Long Fort Collins (But Not Goodbye)

SO LONG, FORT COLLINS (BUT NOT GOOD-BYE)

This is one of the hardest things I’ve ever written, because it is regarding one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.

Which, as you may have guessed from the title, is to leave Fort Collins.

Last week I finally made the final move down to Denver, to the Capitol Hill area.

Now, if you are a friend of mine in the Fort and this is news to you, you are not alone.

And if you are a friend of mine and you are offended that this is news to you, I can’t really hold it against you. It is pretty shitty of me to just do this without telling anyone.

All I can do is apologize across the board.

 Fort Collins, I will miss you as much as this kid will miss this goat. Seriously.

But, especially if you are a friend of mine, and one from the Fort, then you know I’ve been pretty much off the radar lately due to shows and life and a new relationship and etc. Meaning, I haven’t really been around all that much anyway, not like I used to be.

But you have to know that doesn’t mean I don’t love you.

This is a move I’ve been contemplating for a long time--at least a year, probably two, maybe more. And it’s a testament to all the people and places I’ve grown to love so much that it has taken me this long to pull the trigger. Especially because it is something that feels and long has felt like the right choice for me.

I’m not a person who says good-bye very well. I have faded away from my family, for like five or six years in that case (ask me sometime) and also from countless dating situations and friends--even cities. And that tendency, along with my reluctance to leave a place I love so much, is why I’ve been so neglectful of saying good-bye. I don't do this well. (Even though I’m not going that far, yo. I’ll be around.)

Aside from New Orleans, I have never connected with a town and its people like I have with Fort Collins. When I moved up there from Boulder, I thought I really didn’t like Colorado too much, just because Boulder people were such assholes. But the Fort turned my opinion around. It is such a warm place, so friendly and genuine that I adore introducing friends to every place I hang out. No one is disappointed when I do.

But not as much as these backpacks will miss each other.

My bar/restaurant family I will miss a great deal. I have had so much fun--so much that it is probably illegal, hah--with the ever-expanding circle of people that all stemmed from CooperSmith’s all those years ago. :) You guys know who you are. I hope I am still one of you.

And my OpenStage family truly means that much to me--family. You have helped me grow incalculably, not only as an actor, but also as a person.

All I can say is I love you.

All.

Truly. I would literally not be the person I am today without OpenStage. I sure as hell wouldn't be the actor I am, that's for certain. Not sure if you want credit for that or not, but I honestly thank you from the bottom of my heart for all you’ve given me.

But as the header on this says, ‘so long’ is not the same as ‘good-bye.’ We are not far from each other, Fort Collins. I am conveniently located very near the Fillmore and the Ogden, if anyone is coming down for a show and needs a place to crash.

And you know what I have discovered? They have bars in Denver!!! I KNOW! That’s some crazy shit isn’t it? I mean, they will never measure up to Smelliot’s, but then nothing ever will.

And I will certainly be up there a great deal for OpenStage shows and lots of other events--I’m thinking several drinks and several friends sometime soon might be in order?

Again my apologies for the back-asswards way I’m doing this. But, really, when you think about it, that’s kind of the way I do everything, isn’t it? Since you’re my friends I know you will forgive me for my sad lack of communication. All I can do is ask that you try to understand.

And I reiterate: I love you all very much.

Questions/comments/rantings are encouraged, here or in a more private setting--either way is fine.

###

mena

Mena relaxing on what I suppose must be her bed.

It's been a while since I posted here, and I hope you'll forgive me but it's been a pretty traumatic week.

Lost one of the doggies, Mena, last Wednesday, and it's still very weird going on with life. She was only 12 and seemed perfectly healthy until a pair of masses on her spleen that had metastasized up to her heart burst open and bled out. We had no idea they were there; she was running around and playing fetch three days prior to her death.

There was nothing to be done; she was bleeding internally for a couple of days, but even if I had gotten her to the vet immediately there was no surgery or anything that could save her. Once there are masses on the heart, it's pretty much over.

But I keep telling myself she had a good life--and she did; she came from the shelter after being picked up on the street and was maybe 25 pounds underweight when we got her. She had no idea really of how to be a dog. In such a way that I conjecture that she was a street dog for a long time, or maybe a farm dog who got out. Playing fetch was a brand-new concept, as were sit, and stay.

Her street-life came out in that she was always very clear with other dogs that she was not to be fucked with. She never started shit, but no matter how big or tough other dogs seemed, she always marched right up to check them out, and essentially challenge them to start something if they wanted.

But once the initial posturing was over, she loved to play. She would do that puppy thing where dogs spin completely around in one hop, or she would bump into the other dog with her flank in hopes of getting them to chase her. She did that her whole life, and while she used to hop straight up in the air when we were getting ready to go somewhere, almost getting high enough that she was face-to-face with me, she had somewhat mellowed on that in recent old age.

And she loved people, all people all the time. When we first got her she would bolt all the way across the track at the old Fort Collins High School to go greet some new arrival, just out of sheer enthusiasm for life.

But platitudes and memories are cold comfort. She was a sweet, sweet, gentle girl and I miss her a great deal. There is an absence in my life and my house and both Sabi and Ben feel it too.

I'm just spending a lot of time with those two, remembering to gather rosebuds while I may.

Pet your dog or your cat for me today, please, right now, if you read this. Tell them how much you love them for me.

Miss you, honey.

She was always terribly lady-like and proper.

Mena (l) and Sabi (r) looking like they're up to something.

kelly's self-esteem is...

Presumably the star is there so you know you're on the end with the teeth.

Please describe Kelly's self-esteem in two words or less.

And the Winner Is...over

l to r: David Harms, my big head, Andy Anderson hiding behind my big head, Hannah Marie Hines, Luke Terry, and Missy Moore.

So my most recent show, 'And the Winner Is...' just ended yesterday. I am still in the denial stage of grief, I think. It usually takes me a few days to fully realize that the thing we created, this wonderful, unique beast of a theatre show, with its pre-ordained lifespan, is now gone. There is some sadness already, but at this point it still seems unreal.

We devote so much of ourselves to these things -- not to get all pretentious on you -- but it really does take a huge chunk out of yourself to realistically and believably play someone else on stage. The relationships you forge with your fellow actors are fun and weird at the same time: you have a stage relationship with their character, and you have a backstage relationship with the actual person which is often very different. So it's all a little schizophrenic, lol.

now you can see Andy, but he decided to blink. and where's my neck? how can you have a fucking head if you have no fucking neck? i look like dick cheney.

But this cast in particular has been amazing. There were six of us in this show, and every one of my castmates is someone i would look forward to hanging out with backstage, onstage, and at the bar afterward. :) Of the shows I've done, it is rare if not impossible to find an ENTIRE cast made up of really cool, really down to earth people, none of whom are crazy, or neurotic, or diva-like, or just plain assholes that you can't wait to get away from. There's always one...

(sidebar: Hmmm. If it's true that there's always one asshole in a cast, and if it's true that I can't identify who it is in the cast of this show...then does that mean it's me?? :) Hope not.)

At any rate, thanks to the cast and to Craig Bond our director, and to Vintage Theatre. And to those of you who made it to the show, hope you enjoyed yourselves, because we certainly did.

To anyone who didn't make it the show, you can suck it. :)

j/k. I love everyone.

facepalm beach

Ah, Florida. It's like Texas for the East Coast: a repository for all that is dumb, trashy, shameful and wrong with America.

But, like Texas, Florida is also a faithful font of stories about Teh Stupid, and How Not To Behave. Here (via fark) is a loverly tale of a bag of oregano, $450, a 911 call, and two young men desirous of the alleged intoxicating effects of marijuana.

After setting up a deal to buy weed, these two geniuses

what is it about the horrible ethan hawke moustache/chin fuzz combo that invariably points to Teh Stupid?

discovered that the fatty bag they had just purchased was not full of sweet sweet mary jane, but rather some household spices and perhaps yard clippings. So after failing to convince the cousin who had set up the deal to get them their money back, they called 911. To report that their drug deal had gone bad. Sweet.