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.

David, I miss you so!

David, my closest friend, to whom I had to say goodbye many months ago. I do not closely know anyone who knew him, and it looks as if there will be no memorial service, which baffles and wounds me. It seems unfair that such a rich life should go uncelebrated and unmarked, and it has made my grief infinitely harder to deal with. It ambushes me at certain vulnerable times, like right now when my husband has been hospitalized and the outlook is uncertain. And I don't want to let him go, for it means the end of a huge chapter of my life. Maybe a whole book. The story is too large to tell right now, thirty years' worth of memories, and I don't know where to begin. I found this bit of him on his Facebook page, in which he sings in his inimitable fashion, and some pictures from my album.

Gone west (for David)

                   Gone west

  

It seems in my life I have always

moved west, New Brunswick, Alberta,

the boardwalk behind the Quay;

it’s a left-handed sort of life

driving me heartwards, though never,

no never,

heartwise.

  

                                        that day

When I thought I saw you/ on the boardwalk

my guts jumped:                    it

jerked the hook in my colon

(you always knew about bait)

You know how it was:    I wanted to stand on my desk

on the last day of classes

and shout:  O captain!  My captain!

But you had your own rotation – I saw

it reel from view, and

(helpless to catch you)

watched your spiralling apogee.

What is the remotest segment of an orbit?

Booze, blondes.  Too much of

a good thing.  But I did love you.

We wandered, Pooh and Piglet in an

Escher maze, searching for heffalumps.

You calmly said, “Watch this,” and set fire

to my mind.

I saw you as the human yoyo, bobbing up and

                                                                   down,

sleeping, walking the dog, in and out

and ‘round the world.

I knew you’d be back, like hounds,

like a cycle of blood, like black

fruit springing into tree.  When the

string broke, I hid my eyes, and

said, but it’s only a lute,

it will heal itself,

half-hoping I was wrong.

I don’t know why or how God looks

after you, beached like Stanley’s whale,

stared at by the curious.  I don’t know

how God manages.  It was beyond me.

And so I kept on moving. 
                                
Margaret Gunning

Song by David

David, my closest friend, to whom I now have to say goodbye. And I don't want to, for it means the end of a huge chapter of my life. Maybe a whole book. The story is too large to tell right now, I don't know where to begin. I found this bit of him on his Facebook page, and some pictures.

I AM A MIGHTY BATTLE SHIP by David West

After a long period of illness and near-incapacitation, David astounded me with one of his best poems, written only last night. He gave me permission to share it here. I am so hoping this will ignite more poems, as he has a unique voice, and is my closest friend.

I AM A MIGHTY BATTLE SHIP

YES. A mighty battle ship
Grey
Taken a lot of hits and near misses
Done some damage in return

My rudder cable is jammed
I travel by digression

Bunker oil marks my path
We are working to seal the leaks

It is a race against time
And tide

Two forward compartments
Are sealed by my order
Were filling with flood and screams of those left behind

I have counter-flooded to keep
The decks even at a level
No dramatic going down here

Yet there is no homecoming for us
No homeport to take refuge
and refit

Sooner or later we go under the cold dark waves
I’ll stand my watch,
I’ll not fear
For many before us have gone down
to meet the Old Grey Widow Maker

Constant as ocean, wind,
and tide

—David West

Santa Dave

Hey listen. My dearest friend, David, has been in the hospital for a LONG LONG time with every ailment you can imagine, greatly affecting his mobility. And yet, with few exceptions, he has been remarkably cheerful through it all. I think this should be celebrated, and what better way than with a Blingee. The top one is a pose in his fairly-Brother-Dave-ish hospital gown. The second one, made last year, is too good NOT to repeat.

Special Bonus Bling!

What a character!

Though I haven't had much feedback yet on a novel that isn't even officially "out", my dear longtime friend/fellow author David West has already had a pretty strong reaction to it.

Do you think this matches up? David never looked quite this green, but his expression is getting close. Pure panic!

I've known David since forever, or at least since I took his Major Poets class in 1991 (and I remember he handed out photocopies of his own poems at the end of the class - that's showing 'em). Since then our friendship has been off and on, up and down, but always swinging around again like some kind of boomerang in eternal orbit.

What's nice about David, known to his friends as Brother David, is that he is at least as crazy as, if not crazier than, I am. Thus I can be myself in all my slightly-deranged glory. (And is that an alien space probe I see up on the ceiling? Kind of like Nomad on Star Trek? "Ster-rill-liiize!")

"Oh, look! There's the blurb I wrote!"

Note that the copy is already nicely dog-eared. I hope that's a good sign.

Order The Glass Character from:

Thistledown Press 

http://www.thistledownpress.com/html/search/genre/Fiction/the_glass_character_p580.cfm

Amazon.com

http://www.amazon.com/Glass-Character-Margaret-Gunning/dp/1927068886/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1395534131&sr=1-1&keywords=the+glass+character

Chapters/Indigo.ca

http://www.chapters.indigo.ca/books/the-glass-character/9781927068885-item.html?ikwid=the%2520glass%2520character%2520margaret%2520gunning&ikwsec=Home

(I promise I won't run this ad every time. Just until I sell the first 100,000.)