The latest: parts unknown.
Sorry for the clickbait title and lack of cute LEGO minifigure. There are no pithy song lyrics to cover this.
I need to talk for a minute about how much it sucks that Anthony Bourdain is gone.
For personal reasons, I really can’t. That is, I can’t go into the level of detail I want to.
Instead, I’ll say this. This is a man who overcame incredible demons to become beloved by so many. Paraphrasing the words of a tweet I liked this morning, he showed Americans why we shouldn’t be afraid of other cultures. He showed me why, as a woman who didn’t have a passport until her mid-20s, I needed to have less fear and go see places I’d only heard about.
I spent the morning reading the constant flow of thinkpieces instead of working. I know how much it sucks to hurt constantly and it feels like no one understands. I have a job people want. I have people who love me. I have a house and a husband and pets and more money in the bank than I ever thought I would have. What’s the fucking problem?
If you’ve never suffered from this, it’s harder than you think. And there are no answers.
I’m not trying to make Bourdain’s death about me; rather, I’m trying to explain why this celebrity suicide gutted me in ways that others haven’t. And there are people in my very own family who will say — well, he was selfish. Well, he had it all. Well, why do you care about his 11-year-old-daughter today when you never did before.
I’m an auto writer who doesn’t give a flying fuck about car TV shows or professional racing or all the things auto writers are supposed to care about. But I always said, I wished Anthony Bourdain would do car reviews of whatever he happened to drive during whatever he was filming. He was sharp and funny and made amazing observations. He had a way with words that I can only hope to find someday. He had a sense of humor that appealed especially to people like me who see the world through a super dark lens. The world won’t be the same without him. And I am sorry for all of the pain he suffered, in public and in secret, even though I didn’t know him, even if I only passed him on the street once on a random morning in Chicago, and he smirked at me as I did a double-take, and I didn’t speak to him, but I’ve held that moment dear ever since.
Here’s what I had published this week.