An Italian and a French person holding hands and hugging doesn’t necessarily mean they were romantically involved; if it does, my sex life is a lot more interesting than I think. But as you guys show, Americans tend to think pretty much any kind of public touching means sex.
I’ve been trying to put into words my reaction to this, and all I can come up with are snippets. One thing, though: He gave voice to those of us in the culinary business. Food service is not a particularly bookish occupation. Bourdain once said (paraphrasing here) that it attracts those who feel they are or who are “misfits” in some way, whether it’s because of a lack of language skills, a criminal record, some form of diability, some form of mentall instability, you name it. It was also once the domain of those just getting out of incarcertaion. It’s an unpredictable profession where adrenaline and physical speed are kings. It takes a certtain type of person to be able to navigate it all and to emerge with his/her psyche fairly intact. He was one of them.
There was a No Reservations episode, I believe, where he was visiting MA. Instead of discussing the food, it became a personal journey about his substance abuse. I remember a ton of people on food-related boards raising their hackles over it. It was one of the most thought-provoking episodes he’d ever filmed. My respect for him shot up hundredfold after watching it.
The scarf is tied to the knob on the opposite side of the door and strung over the top.
The Critic Whose Olive Garden Review Went Viral Remembers How Anthony Bourdain Spoke Up For Her
I recall the viral Olive Garden review. I vaguely recall that Bourdain defended her from the mockery. I didn’t know that he helped her get her reviews published as a book.
Apparently, Bourdain initially made fun of the review himself, but after thinking about it and reading her other reviews, came to an understanding. We can all learn something about self-examination from this.
Indeed – one of the great things about his work was how no matter what, he sought to respect the inherent human dignity of those he visited. He did not compromise on his truth as he saw it, and he recognized he now was moving in rarefied circles and enjoyed it, but he did insist on basic respect for the people and the ways of the “middle of the country”. He spoke for how the everyday and “unsophisticated” is the honest reality of a vast part of humanity and it *does *contain value, it *does *contain meaning, it *is *what makes up whole lives of real people. He did not forget that he had to do his time in the trenches, and that in his fame and success his troubles were still with him.
It looks like some time back he had an inkling that he may not “make it”, that the day when he could not pull off the “not today!”, may come sooner rather than later, and that he had better try to make what time he could manage count the most. And did he ever give that a good try.
Can’t shake the vaguely troubling feelings of loss for the past 24 hours. Weird. I’m someone particularly resistant to emotive or sentimental feelings. Especially about people I never met. It’s similar but more profound than the loss I felt of other “perennial malcontents” like Leonard Cohen and Robin Williams.
I always assumed that you’d tie a rope to the knob on one side of the door. Run the rope up over the top of the door. Make a noose at the appropriate height on the other side of the door. Stand and stick your head through the noose. Stop standing until you pass out…
I’d suggest taking that opinion with a grain of salt. Page’s allegations of homophobia on the part of Fieri run counter to info on his Wikipedia page:
In point of fact, it seems like perhaps Page, not Fieri, may be the real asshole in that conflict. See point #7 here:
</hijack>
WTF?
First, Anthony Bourdain was an American, not a French person. He was born in Brooklyn. He moved to France late in life and was of French descent on his fathers side, but he was a New Yorker.
And he was romantically involved with Asia Argento. They said they were romantically involved. That is how we know. Not because of a picture. Do you expect there to be a picture of them fucking in public?
The “French person” being referred to here is reporter Hugo Clément, not Bourdain.
Ah. Never mind then. Sorry Nava.
TLDR:
My brain is stupid and sometimes thinks,“Holy fucking shit. I am going to die.” and floods my body with chemicals of, “Holy fucking shit. I am going to die.” When I am trying to decide if I want strawberry or cherry yogurt for breakfast.
[spoiler]Let me tell you about the awesomeness of being me.
I have the pleasure of having anxiety/panic attacks.
I also have the genetic disposition of having Alzheimer’s on one side of my family and depression on the other.
Also, some of my relatives have committed suicide.
Yay me!
Have you ever been eaten by a bear?
Where your brain is screaming “Holy fucking shit. I am going to die right now.” And your body is flooded with chemicals, or feelings, of, “Holy fucking shit. I am going to die right now.”
Where your brain can not even make a simple decision at 8 AM between, “Do I want a strawberry yogurt or a cherry yogurt for breakfast?” because your brain is screaming, “Holy fucking shit I am going to die right now.”
And so, you stand there looking into the fridge for 20 minutes hoping to fucking God that you are not going to die right now because you can’t decide between a strawberry yogurt or a cherry yogurt.
And then you close the fridge door and stand there for 20 minutes trying to decide if you want to go to the couch or your bed to sit down and try to relax and let this hell pass.
And then as you are standing there trying to decide where you want to go to sit down and try to relax you realize that you can not make a decision and then your brain starts screaming, “Holy shit. What the fuck is wrong with me? Why can’t I make a simple decision of where to start walking to? What the fuck is wrong with me? I am going to fucking die. This sucks.”
And then your brain decides that now is a good time to start to worry about worrying that you are worried and that this feeling might never end.
And your heart is racing and it won’t slow down.
And then thankfully a breakthrough happens and the clouds part and the heavens open up and you decide to go and sit on the couch.
And then you sit there for 20 minutes with your heart racing trying to decide if you are going to just sit there and feel like you are going to die or if you are going to turn on the TV so that at least you might have a bit of a distraction from your brain screaming, ‘Holy fucking shit I am going to die.”
And after sitting there for 20 minutes trying to make a decision you finally make a decision that yes you are going to turn on the TV so that maybe hopefully it might be able to distract yourself from your stupid ass brain who won’t shut up.
So then you sit there for another 20 minutes feeling relieved, and a little bit better, that you were actually able to make a decision that you were going to turn on the TV to distract yourself from this terrifying feeling and then you realize that you haven’t even turned on the TV yet.
So then you start to worry, because you sat there for 20 minutes after deciding to turn on the TV but didn’t actually turn on the TV yet, that something might be wrong with you.
And then you start to worry that something is wrong with you and that you might worry yourself into worrying for the rest of time and that this will never end.
And then you start to worry that this is how life will be for the rest of your life. With you just being absolutely terrified all the time.
Or that you might just be terrified that you might be terrified and that it might never end and that you might just terriffy yourself into actually being terrified but you’re not sure because your brain is still screaming “Holy fucking shit. I am going to die.”
And then an hour later you realize that you haven’t even turned on the TV yet.
So you decide that you are going to turn on the TV.
And then you feel a bit better.
So you start to try to convince yourself that if you can feel this a little bit better that maybe you can feel another a little bit better if you just try to start to try to calm down.
So you say, “Ok, all I really have to do is just breathe.”
So you try to focus on just the physical act of breathing.
And it starts to help and you start to feel a little bit better.
And then you realize another hour has passed and you still haven’t turned on the TV.
And then your brain starts screaming again, “Holy fucking shit. I am going to die.” And your heart is racing and won’t slow down. And your body is flooded with chemicals of, “Holy fucking shit. I am going to die.”
And so you stand up thinking maybe this will help but it doesn’t so you sit back down and then think “Holy fuck what is wrong with me am I going to die right now?”
So then you think, “Maybe I should go lay down in bed.”
And then you think, “Maybe I should just stay here because right now I am not dying and if I go to bed I might die on the way.”
And then you think, “Maybe I’ll die right here on the couch and that I might be safer in bed.”
All the while your brain is still screaming, “Holy fucking shit. I am going to die.” And your heart is racing and won’t slow down and your body is flooded with chemicals of, “Holy fucking shit. I am going to die.”
And then you realize 2 hours have passed and you are still sitting on the couch and you still have not turned on the TV.
So you think, “I’ll turn on the TV that will help to distract my stupid brain.”
And then you realize you are still hungry. And you remember how you tried to get yogurt but you couldn’t decide between strawberry or cherry and how you flipped out about it and your brain started screaming, “Holy fucking shit. I am going to die.” And your body was flooded with chemicals of “Holy fucking shit. I am going to die.”
So your brain starts screaming, “Holy fucking shit. I am going to die.” And your body starts to flood with chemicals of, “Holy fucking shit. I am going to die.”
And you still can’t decide between strawberry or cherry yogurt.
And then you realize another 2 hours have passed and you still haven’t turned on the TV.
So you think, “I’ll turn on the TV. That will help to distract me.”
And then……
.
.
.
Finally about 8 PM you have calmed down enough that you actually have decided that, “Fuck it. I’m just going to reach in the fridge and grab a yogurt. I don’t give a shit what it actually is.”
So you go a grab a yogurt.
And then turn on the TV.
Then you realize you haven’t done a single thing all day and it is now 8 PM. And you just say to yourself, “Fuck it. The universe can just go and fuck itself today.”
And yes, during these times I do wish there was an “off switch”.
And here is some other things I thought of while writing that and no I am not going to try to weave it into a narrative of some kind.
Thing #1.
I now understand the phrase, “I can’t even right now.” Because my brain won’t let me make a simple fucking decision because it’s being a dick right now and would rather flood my body with chemicals of, “Holy fucking shit I am going to die right now.”
Thing #2.
And society says, “BE A FUCKING MAN!” when I’m over here and can’t even decide if I want strawberry or cherry yogurt for breakfast. And now 12 hours have passed.
Thing #3.
And when I interact with other human beings, in person, I try my absolute hardest to try and be as happy and cheerful and nice and polite as I know how because maybe they are going through what I am and hopefully a smile or a nice “Thank you so much. You are awesome.” Will make their day be just a little bit better even though I feel like EVERYTHING is horrifying and that I am the worst at everything and that out of every human being that has ever existed I am the absolute worst at being a human and that everyone hates me, but no one hates me more than I do, that… fuck me… I don’t even know how to properly English this forward and I’ve been stressing about it for 12 minutes so fuck it this paragraph is done.[/spoiler]
Anthony will be missed.
RIP
Damn, Drunky, that is some powerful stuff.
I really thought up until this very minute, given his posting history, that he was really just drunk off his ass most of the time. You think you know what to expect from a guy, and then this happens.
Sorry,** D.S. **
It is also, unfortunately, highly accurate. Ask me how I know. During spells like that, my own horrible brain in addition to informing me that I’m gonna die right now, also insinuatingly suggests that I COULD make it all better by just killing myself right now and avoiding all this brainstorm. It will also do this any time I have even the smallest little setback, like not being able to find a straight edge screwdriver, being stuck in traffic for five minutes or having been slightly disappointed about something I was looking forward to. Sometimes I can go on for DAYS with that little “Oh, go kill yourself, you KNOW you want to!” voice muttering endlessly in the back of my head. I’m pretty good at shrugging it off but there’ve been a couple times when I couldn’t do that and I’m aware one of those times could happen basically with zero notice. Bad brains suck.
I don’t know what you’re experiencing, but for me, this loss feels particularly harsh because of the current scene: namely, a bullshit artist is at the top of American society and all day long we hear about the bullshit he’s spewing forth and we hear people excusing his bullshit and even praising it.
Anthony Bourdain was basically the complete and exact opposite of a bullshit artist. He was utterly incapable of double-talking or putting on a fake manner or trying to impress people. What you saw was what you got. He was real.
So his absence feels sort of like ‘our side has suffered a devastating loss.’ The side of bullshit and lying and exploiting seems to have had a win–at least that’s how it looks. And that’s hard to take.
It is sad, given that plenty of people live in a daily situation maintained by appearances and posturing due to necessity. Bourdain was honest, original - a truly different person, not too similar to any other person I can think of.
I wonder what exactly caused him to end it, not that I’m at all angry at his decision, it’s his right, and if he can’t take this anymore, then permanent relief is legitimate. Sure we can, in retrospect (which is crucial in these judgements) ask why he did not ask for help, but I think he was sane. He had a daughter, and he knew he was loved by many people, but maybe he felt empty, desperate or maybe he was riding through a long long tunnel of meaninglessness. Still, I don’t know why, I would like to know his reasons, was it depression alone, was it depression caused by a specific circumstance or the state of the world or what? In any case, he will very much be missed, but we can be thankful we had him in the first place.
I’ve been reading around, and I here that he was exhausted almost constantly. This is linked to the case of the Swedish DJ Avicci, that if nothing else, besides bringing forth the crucial awareness of depression, should also serve as a chance to speak of the dangers of over-working, of working oneself to oblivion, need to mentioned much. Not much point if living if you can’t even take a breather - work should be taken in just measure, I think it is a mistake to make it the sole purpose in life.
RIP Anthony, may you get the ease of mind you could not get elsewhere.
That was a great story. One of the commenters said that Tony was a badass Mr. Rogers; I absolutely love that description.
I’m not ashamed to say that his suicide hit me hard. I haven’t been this sad about a celebrity death since Johnny Carson. His use of food to intertwine culture and humanity was a unique gift.
Lastly, it makes me very sad that he was in so much pain. Having the black dog chase me for a few years made me understand a little too well that sometimes, you will do whatever it takes to make it stop.
Rest in piece, Tony. I will always appreciate that I was alive when you were traveling the world and bringing your stories to us.
He was in the middle of filming an episode and his friend was next door. What sort of motivation could cause him to commit suicide at that moment? If it was a long-term issue, wouldn’t he have cancelled filming the Paris episode?