Just wanted to jump in from the (very brief so far) self-imposed hiatus to chime in a bit on today's sad news about Anthony Bourdain. I've mentioned before that I greatly enjoy Bourdain's writing and shows, and that has mostly to do with the humor and humanity that infused everything he did.
You could look at the career Bourdain had carved out for himself post-Kitchen Confidential, and rightly point out that he had been given the rare opportunity to literally design his dream job and live it, and be well-paid and highly-regarded for it. To travel anywhere he wanted and function essentially as a goodwill ambassador, and show the commonalities of people rather then the differences.
Everyone has to eat, and so it seems natural to bring people together over food -- and not high-dollar Michelin haute cuisine nonsense, but street food: fast, greasy, tasty, the food that regular people with a modest amount of money in their pockets would eat. Sometimes Bourdain would add in rock bands that he enjoyed -- Queens of the Stone Age; The Sword -- and have lunch with them. The episode with Obama in Hanoi was especially poignant, and a wonderful moment for both men. Try to imagine the current....thing in the White House doing something like this. It's unthinkable.
Clearly Bourdain was a man of passions -- food, drink, music, politics. Certainly many of us can relate to such passions, and so can appreciate someone who (again) literally got to create his dream job around the things he was most passionate about. But there's always a price paid that no one else knows about.
None of us can know what's in someone else's head, obviously. I know that there have been times in my life when my passions could inflame, get maybe a bit past my control, to a point where you might be so passionate about something that you don't know what to do with it or how. You feel like your heart might just burst with all the energy and desire built up within.
Passion isn't always a voluptuous woman waiting for you; sometimes it's a tiger you figured out how to ride, but that you suddenly can't just dismount. Sometimes the world, in all its beauty and pain existing side by side, is too much, and all it takes is a moment to look into the abyss, and not look away in time. Take a moment to think about the people in your life, and reach out to them if they might be on the brink. If it's you that's on the brink, call someone, anyone. There is help, and it does get better. But you have to make that leap.
As disheartening and tragic as this morning's news is, there is a very small bit of comfort in seeing that, in the midst of the daily ugliness we all exist in these days, there was a large and genuine outpouring of grief for the loss of a good person, someone who was generous with his time and talent and position in life, even if he clearly wasn't entirely comfortable with those things. Rest in peace, Tony.
You could look at the career Bourdain had carved out for himself post-Kitchen Confidential, and rightly point out that he had been given the rare opportunity to literally design his dream job and live it, and be well-paid and highly-regarded for it. To travel anywhere he wanted and function essentially as a goodwill ambassador, and show the commonalities of people rather then the differences.
Everyone has to eat, and so it seems natural to bring people together over food -- and not high-dollar Michelin haute cuisine nonsense, but street food: fast, greasy, tasty, the food that regular people with a modest amount of money in their pockets would eat. Sometimes Bourdain would add in rock bands that he enjoyed -- Queens of the Stone Age; The Sword -- and have lunch with them. The episode with Obama in Hanoi was especially poignant, and a wonderful moment for both men. Try to imagine the current....thing in the White House doing something like this. It's unthinkable.
Clearly Bourdain was a man of passions -- food, drink, music, politics. Certainly many of us can relate to such passions, and so can appreciate someone who (again) literally got to create his dream job around the things he was most passionate about. But there's always a price paid that no one else knows about.
None of us can know what's in someone else's head, obviously. I know that there have been times in my life when my passions could inflame, get maybe a bit past my control, to a point where you might be so passionate about something that you don't know what to do with it or how. You feel like your heart might just burst with all the energy and desire built up within.
Passion isn't always a voluptuous woman waiting for you; sometimes it's a tiger you figured out how to ride, but that you suddenly can't just dismount. Sometimes the world, in all its beauty and pain existing side by side, is too much, and all it takes is a moment to look into the abyss, and not look away in time. Take a moment to think about the people in your life, and reach out to them if they might be on the brink. If it's you that's on the brink, call someone, anyone. There is help, and it does get better. But you have to make that leap.
As disheartening and tragic as this morning's news is, there is a very small bit of comfort in seeing that, in the midst of the daily ugliness we all exist in these days, there was a large and genuine outpouring of grief for the loss of a good person, someone who was generous with his time and talent and position in life, even if he clearly wasn't entirely comfortable with those things. Rest in peace, Tony.
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