In a big book so full of larger than life characters, most of whom are on the fast track to hell, what am I, Pandora Pox, just a normal everyday slog-through-life type, supposed to make of Don Gately, who landed on hell's doorstep, well, maybe it was in a pricey high rise condo wallowing all unaware in like puddles of urine and shit due to od'ing on a massive blue pile of Dilaudid, a like morphine class drug, but then he made his way back, only to fall into a limbo-bardo state in which he was unable to function in either the so-called real world, and only minimally in the netherworld? I mean, come on, what's all this hoopla about wraiths? Isn't the road to perdition bought with a one-way ticket? Well it ought to be and spare us the clean-up, I say!
Seriously, DFW fans, are we really supposed to believe that an accomplished drug addict with a vast resume' of chemical cocktail proficiency to his name (remember, once an addict, always an addict; I'm no great brain trust over here, hell, I'm barely literate for godsake but I do know a bit about addiction my own self), anyway, where was I? Oh yes. Are we really supposed to swallow that Gately's uber-drudgerious 'Resident Staffer on Night Duty' duties , which enumeration of same takes up like 5 whole pages of prose (in teeny tiny print, that must be like what, upwards of 5000 words in IJ pp 601-605, screw the footnotes today) (and no I am not so obsessed with accuracy that I would ever actually conduct a word count)... well, I cannot fathom that anyone, even an old square-head moron wouldn't at least be sorely tempted to use a little bit just to get a little respite....to perhaps raid Lenz's PoP and get a little much-deserved relief for his own underappreciated self, Gately. I mean, honestly, a martyr complex is the least attractive character trait of any, if I am allowed to opine, isn't that what Great Literature is supposed to make us do anyway? And fully cognizant that nobody will not only not agree with my views here, especially and including DFW-as-wraith and my partner Darius, but also probably castigate me for it, opine I must, public opinion and consensus be damned. Oh please, don't hold this lowly one in contempt simply for exercising my First Amendment Rights! It's just an opinion for godsake. And to top it all off he doesn't even complain but always presents a benign jolly presence as he ministers on behalf of the dregs of the earth, where he himself lately arose out of, Gately.
So, if Gately is any kind of role model, I mean one as presented to us by DFW himself, what does that mean for the rest of us errant mortals, those with maybe better judgement and morals but less fortitude or perhaps more bluntly put, stubbornness, how are we to compete with the likes of him, Gately? If he can do it, why not the rest of us? The pressure is on.
Ack. I hate this moron Gately. Damn heroic Gately.
I refer, of course, to what happened to him outside Ennet House on 11 November Y.D.A.U. and then afterward, on that fateful night when he took a hit (from a GSW in the shoulder by one of the Nucks who were chasing Lenz- IJ. p. 612) that was meant for and should have been perpetrated on Randy Lenz, who rightfully deserved it. (Oh yeah, I'm so over Randylicious, just the thought of that scumbag dirtwad creepo makes me want to vomit.)
Poor Gately. He gets whisked off to the hospital in a bad so bad way, and even though he has excruciating pain he refuses any and all pain meds that he is rightfully entitled to avail himself of. Did no one there show him the Wong-Baker pain scale? Not that Wong-Baker is in any way accurate, but at least, not being able to articulate his druthers in actual words, Gately might have just shaken his big square head at the thing or maybe his finger all 'no, nooooooooooooo' or maybe waggled his eyebrows and blinked a bunch of times in displeasure. How would anyone indicate displeasure or non-compliance when all motor functions are on the fritz? I am sure I don't know.
On the other hand why did he decide to suffer? Why didn't he just nod YES to the hospital meds? I suppose once one has experienced the downside of addiction one becomes reluctant to get hooked again. Those damn pharmaceuticals will get you coming and going, whether from lack of moral turpitude or from bona-fide physical agony, it doesn't matter much in the long run, really. You can just as easily get hooked either way.
But why, I wonder, are people so willing to damage if not destroy themselves with illegal drugs to the point of permanent demapping yet not willing to spare themselves a lot of insuperable physical pain with legal ones? I know people in real life like that. And yes, they DO drive me bats. And this is why I hesitated to even attempt to get into the head space of the sinner/saint Gately. Are we to assume he's the latest incarnation of Saint Francis of Assisi, hell raiser turned sparrow lover? No fucking way! Problem is, he's so fucking integral to the IJ journey that I literally have no choice but to at least scribble down some thoughts. I suppose I will have to learn to wrap my head around the whole addiction/ redemption cycle thing. Maybe the trouble I have is that redemption is a concept so foreign to me as to not be believable. And yet, and yet, Pandora...that damnable moniker so full of nothing but Hope. She will no doubt have her day. Just not today.
- Pandora Pox
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