“Oh lord! Won’t you buy meeee a Mercedes-Benz. My friends all drive Porsches. I must make amends!”
That Anthony Bourdain no longer is out in this world somewhere, learning, eating, meeting others, means there’s one less good and powerful voice speaking for so many of us. A good and powerful voice that was also incredibly entertaining. Here’s one of my favorite examples.
I know this isn’t a big deal, like, at all, and I’m used to seeing my journalism bylines, but having my creative writing and embroidery published is a rad new development that feels awesome and I’m totally humbled by it, as evidenced by these photos of celebrities crying.
A few years ago at a backyard barbecue, a friend’s birthday party, one of the stoners, mid-bite of his veggie patty, told me that déjà vu is something we experience when we are in the exact place we should be.
Michael McCormack’s new book began as a letter of complaint to his father, who was a world champion football player (Cleveland ftw! For once!), NFL coach, and hall of famer. As he wrote, though, it turned into something much bigger.
TLDR: I feel totally drained by social media. Scrolling through Facebook feels emotionally violent, right? The news is all alarming. No one is listening to each other. We’re too quick to break each other down, rather than the opposing argument.
It’s usually when we’re knee deep in the “Hey, I’m just over here trying to make it” that the universe’s timer goes off and something makes us slow down long enough to notice the chipping paint. The forgotten name. The muscle strained.