[SML] Dave Vick

[Dave Vick]

On Fri, Nov 12, 2021 at 8:18 AM Booth, Dennis G via Stagecraft
<stagecraft at theatrical.net> wrote:

> This post came up in my FB memories this morning, OP from Kristi R-C, July 18, 2014:
> Wanted to share this from Dave Vick on why he does theater...
>  <Big Snip>
> The Theatre is Magic. And if it ever stops being magic, then it'll be time for me to die, because there will be no more magic left in the world."
> I remember being inspired by this at the time, and I still am.  Not time to die, though.  Time for new adventures.

[*teleporting in*]
Hiya. How y'all doin'? It's me...

I've been off and on the list lately (more off than on if I'm honest),
depending on how I feel from day to day, but I've seen the tavern's
reaction to my earlier farewell post...  And, to be honest, I'm
completely gobsmacked by it. I absolutely *NEVER* expected I'd've had
that much of an effect on so many other people; I've basically gone
through life thinking of myself as "that loudmouth from East Cupcake."
I am extremely humbled - seriously weapons-grade Humbled - by all of
your responses.

I'm decloaking today because I feel I must address Dennis' quote from
my heart-of-hearts... For the record, I still feel that way, and I
always, always, always will. Always. Yup.

I'm leaving, though, because here where I am, the socio-political
bullshit surrounding the Magic grew completely untenable, for a number
of reasons directly and indirectly attributable to the Pandemic (and
recovery from same) and the general State of Affairs here. I shan't
list the myriad reasons here; most of which are local Union & Employer
matters, and as such, are NOYB.

In full disclosure, I will also reveal to you that I've long wrestled
with some personal issues of depression, going back to what may be
charitably considered a "troubled childhood." Theatre was Magic
because it was my escape. And now, after a lifetime in Neverland, my
escape was turning into a soul-crusher.

The nadir came two-ish weekend s ago, when after a few days of
assorted work-related socio-political horseshit (I was at the time the
President of my IATSE Local and, as such, prime target for the
throwing of hot monkey poop by all and sundry), I couldn't muster the
gumption to even get out of bed.

On my bedroom wall is a gun rack that I carved about ten thousand
years ago out of some exquisite spalted Ambrosia maple . It holds my
prized 12ga. trapshooting & sporting-clays shotguns; beautiful guns
from Spain and Belgium, hand-engraved, handcrafted works of art, worth
absolutely stupid amounts of money. And all I could do that morning
was lie there in bed and stare at those shotguns and think to myself,
"I can make the pain go away. It'll be so easy."

And that, my brothers and sisters, was the point when I had my Moment
of Clarity: I Can't Do This Any More.

Sadly, around here I can't do Magic without having to deal with
Bullshit. So I have to stop doing Magic, or I will die by my own hand,
because moving away from the Greater Metropolitan Cupcake Area is most
assuredly Not An Option. So Dennis is right; it's not time for me to
die...  Not yet, anyway. And most definitely not by high-velocity lead
poisoning. The Theatre is *still* Magic, but as strongly as I still
believe that, I have to be strong enough to walk away from what I love
beyond all measure.  For a while, anyway...  Maybe a long while...
Who knows?

Anyway... Enough of my blathering. I wanted y'all to know I love y'all
(in my way), and I'm utterly stunned by your kind words. (Obviously
not stunned speechless, but... Well... It's me, right? The Loudmouth,
right?)

Y'all stay safe, now...
[*teleporting out*]
-- 
Dave Vick
517-749-3859
Yeah; *that* guy...