Today was a bit sadder than most. Although still fuzzy on the details, as if that makes any difference, or that we are entitled to them, we lost Tony Bourdain. All death is of course too repugnant to comprehend. Every minute of our lives we are processing information and in a moment all that cultivated consciousness is gone forever. We tell ourselves stories about being reincarnated, ascending to the promise land, and returning to nature, all of which I’m sure holds some truth. These stories also seems to distract ourselves from the eternal nothing which I’m sure is also true. Like all devastating but unavoidable aspects of life we use theater to express our collective trauma. Celebrities play a feature role in the most method of ways, while we play the grieving extras. We talk with our work families about how sad we are that so and so died, allowing us to express the trauma of those who we actually cared about who have died. We reenact trauma that we had to suppress do to a complicated alchemy of circumstances: not enough grieving time, social isolation, cultural repression, and so much more in these sparse water cooler moments.
This feel different. While like most people I have never met Bourdain, he was no actor. He was, or it certainly seem like he was not playing the part of Anthony Bourdain. For all his faults, only his love ones will knows, he never attached his name to a product line. He never associated himself to an ideology. He made money from his words, but he was not paid to recite script. HIs death while not personal feels real. Unlike most celebrity deaths there will be no understudy to step in and play his part, because there was no part. There will be no awkward time when we have to adjust to the new guy playing the part of Anthony Bourdain because that part is gone forever.
In a way I don’t even think it was his ability to speak or write which was his appeal as his ability to listen. In an era when social alliances are predictable and hostile he could break bread and crack a joke with people operating in so many cultural algorithms. On some deep level he knew that while the ingredients ( climate, geography, resources etc ) of a culture changes the procedure stays the same. Create community, give respect, and be patients. Many will use his death as a way of creating what they think is a helpful dialogue about suicide. I am cynical. It is hard for me to see suicide as anything other than a ghastly expression of loneliness. We are not meant meant to burden our consciousness alone. We need to share memories and co create stories with each other to stay sane . While he was a gracious guest at so many tables, he was always the other. I can’t imagine what it would be like to have so many emotional connections in so many different worlds pulling you in so many directions. At the same time partaking in the ancient and televise ritual being the dinner guest. Who could you share such a scattered life with. It's just too much. While his suicide is abusive to his family I sort of understand the impulsivity and selfishness of it. Hunger is the default mode of life. There are brief moments that punctuate our constant emptiness, that we fill with celebration. I am reminded today of this eternal truth in all its horor and joy. Thanks