Thursday, February 20, 2020

David, I miss you so!





This is a montage of photos that my best friend David West sent me on receiving his copy of The Glass Character, my failed novel about Harold Lloyd. (Compare and contrast to my former friend, Matt Paust, who wrote a piece about it under the title Friday's Forgotten Books, then scratched his head over why I was so upset.) I made it into a gif, then, because I have finally figured out how to do it, posted it on YouTube with music. I guess this is the only goodbye I will ever be able to say to him, because his death was not marked by any memorial. The situation was so fraught that I couldn't enter into it at all. So I had to do something to celebrate him, and to help me (at last) say goodbye.


David West: my friend deserved better than this




(For the second year in a row, some of David's Facebook "friends" wished him a happy birthday, no doubt because the algorithm told them to. A notification popped up, so a feigned note of celebration automatically popped up along with it. No energy, investment or emotion was required: it practically sent itself, which most people on social media seem to feel is the ideal way of sending a note of celebration/caring and concern to their "friends".






There is only one problem with this. But it's a big one (I think). He has been dead for two years, so one can only guess at the depth of their connection with him while he was alive. I had something to say about this on Facebook, knowing I would make myself very unpopular, but sick and tired of the barter that stands in for Facebook "friendship". With authors, the most self-involved and narcissistic segment of the population, it is all a matter of "you review my book, I'll review your book" - no one actually READING any of these books, of course - just to score that coveted five-star rating.


It means nothing, nothing, nothing at all.






So here is what I posted, and I am "off" Facebook now, except perhaps to peruse my "saved"  pages, history, vintage ads, favorite shows like Dateline, old cars, birds, all the things that truly interest and uplift me. The feed and my so-called friends can fuck off right now, with probably more energy than they deserve, and certainly more than it took to hit that birthday button for a dead man.)




"Once more, as with last year, David West received birthday greetings from some of his Facebook 'friends'. He has been dead for two years. I think David would have gotten a kick out of this bizarre scenario, but I don’t. 






And I know the justification will be “but I didn’t know”. This does not take away this feeling of hollowness and utter isolation that I have had to live with for two years as people’s meaningless birthday notifications just keep on automatically popping up. 







“Happy birthday” no longer means even a greeting card, but just something you do because it’s on the notification list, which is a great system because it frees us from the NEED to remember that person’s birthday or find out anything else about their circumstances. It’s one of the great things about social media (and I’ve heard this over and over again from people). 







David was my best friend, a superb poet and gifted teacher who spent the last years of his life battling every illness under the sun. The understanding between us was unique, and I will never experience that again or see him again, or hear his voice. He died alone, with no emotional support except what his few friends could give him. 





The next objection will be, “But his page is still active”. No one knows his password, so no one can take it down. And as with his Facebook page, no one looked in on him. These jolly two-word greetings prove it. This gives me a weird, hollow feeling of the more macabre and even dehumanizing aspects of social media.





This is how we do things now, and as always, I don’t belong on the playground. I know this will be a very unpopular thing to say, and I may be savaged, as I have been before just for expressing an opinion. But maybe this is the best way to say goodbye.