The Darkeness Of Yesterday!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                       Let me begin with apologies to Baayork, Donna, Priscilla, Kelly, Sammy, Pamela, and all the Original Cast.  This show of shows is not responsible for this post; rather, my twisted issues are.

                                       Obviously, I seem to be struggling with issues of disapproval, not being appreciated, (which is NOT the same, girls, as being loved; I know, undeniably I am that, and, bottom line, love IS better than appreciation.  But, hey, we are all human!!!!!!!!!!) and being harshly dismissed, especially in my youth.   It all came back to haunt me, in a terrible dream the other night.

                                        In the dream, I was cast in "A Chorus Line."  I was one of the dancers rejected after the opening, which was OK with me, because then I knew I would have to go backstage, and lend my voice to the big ensemble numbers, to lend the songs a bigger sound.  This was OK with me, in the dream, as it would be with me, in real life.

                                         But then the dream morphed into something darker.  The stage I was rehearsing on was my high school stage, and the director turned out to be this guy from my past named Richard Barringer, who may have been a director, as well, but whom I met in the capacity of his being a production designer.

                                         It was the Fall of 1971, and that year the first play done was "The Rainmaker," that 1950s classic by N. Richard Nash.  The basis for the 1956 Katherine Hepburn movie, from which Janine Taylor, twenty-four years later, would enact a brilliant impersonation of, in the original "Friday The 13th."  I was working on sets for the production, and one night, for reasons I then did not understand, Barringer really lit into me.

                                        A group of us were trying to glue some flats together.  Something, in Barrringer's eyes, was wrong about the way I was doing it, and he stormed over, criticizing everything I did, with every other word out of his mouth being "Goddammit!"  It is my memory that he actually grabbed me, and pushed me away, so that he could do whatever he thought  needed to be done correctly himself.

                                        This was my introduction to Theatrical Intimidation.  I vowed it would never happen again.  Inside, I was seething with anger.  I wanted to push Barringer right back, and get into a fight with him.  But, then, I would have been thrown off the play, and I knew I did not want that.

                                         I went backstage, hid, and for the first time since Mrs. Compton in kindergarten, began to cry.  I guess it was my way of letting off the emotions I was seething with, in as constructive a way as possible.  Several of my colleagues found me, and offered comfort and support.  For which, to this day, I am grateful.  Barringer never bothered me again, nor, after everything was in place, did he come around.

                                         But I have never forgotten him. And that is not a compliment.

                                          What was going on?  I have several ideas.

                                          I am unsure of Barringer's sexual orientation.  Let's assume, for the moment, he was straight.  He saw me, the sensitive, uncoordinated gay kid, and instead of mentoring me, lit into me, out of homophobia.

                                          If he were gay, it would be the same basic scenario, except the motivation would be self-hate.  He saw, in me, all he hated about being gay.

                                           There is another addition to the mix, and I think this is it.  I got the impression Barringer was, or had been, an alcoholic.  Now, maybe he was intoxicated that evening, but my guess is not.  But, maybe because he hadn't drank, or maybe he was in recovery then, he was tapped for rage, and it erupted onto me.

                                            Which there was  no excuse for, and for which I do not forgive him, even to this day.  And I was the only one to suffer this man's rage.  Interesting, isn't it????????????

                                              Had this happened today, Barringer could have been charged with assaulting a minor.  He might have been, back then, except I was too naïve to retaliate. And I was so humiliated by what had happened, I did not tell my parents.

                                                Also floating through this dream was the Dragon Lady of my youth--Mrs. Santamarina.  No wonder I was depressed all day yesterday.

                                                Mrs. Santamarina I have dealt with on here. Now, thanks to my nightmares, Mr. Barringer gets his due.  Over the years, I have tried googling and searching for him, because I wanted to give that sick son of bitch a piece of my mind.  If he is out there and this gets back to him--GOOD!  Here's to you, Dick, you DICK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                                  My guess is he is no longer with us.  Too bad he didn't suffer my retaliation.

                                                   As I occasionally, in dreams, sometime still suffer his!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!