Showing posts with label suicide. Show all posts
Showing posts with label suicide. Show all posts
Friday, June 8, 2018
Anthony Bourdain - RIP
This was one of the most heartbreaking of days. As soon as I got up, I looked at my phone and saw the beginning words of a headline, "Anthony Bourdain" it started. Oh no. Before I swiped over, I briefly thought, maybe he and Asia Argento got married. But no, the worst news ever, dead at 61. I thought, heart attack. And then the news did get worse. Suicide. It was a same 1-2 punch as the morning I woke to the news of Chris Cornell. Unexpected death. Must be a heart attack...and then shockingly, suicide. I saw him twice in person, first in Milwaukee and then in Chicago. I've watched him for 15 years. I have his Les Halles cookbook, the great "Kitchen Confidential," and, no bs, just pulled "Parts Unknown" off my bookshelf last Saturday and started re-reading it. I can hear the cadence of his voice, imagine the movements of his body in some of my favorite episodes. It feels so personal, as if I truly lost someone I knew, a friend who took me along to places I couldn't go to on my own. It's a thought all fans are feeling, no doubt. I imagine his best friend, Eric Ripert, finding him. And I'm conjuring up all sorts of reasons in my head. His food explorations led him, and us, to the truer journey of connecting with people, cultures, history, socio-economic crisis or in other words, humanity on the most vulnerable level. He was vulnerable, too. I'm so sorry for your pain, Anthony. Thank you for all you gave us and tried to make us understand.
Thursday, May 18, 2017
RIP Chris Cornell "One (U2 Music with Metallica Lyrics)"
I had to be at work early today--7 a.m., for a special process that needed to be done. As so happens when you need shut-eye, I instead woke up at 4:15 a.m. and couldn't go back to sleep. At 6, I finally got up, had a message on my phone that the power was down at work and texted my boss on how we were going to proceed. At the end of our conversation, I took one of my dogs out, came back in, and saw my phone flashing. She had typed one more message, "Chris Cornell died?"
I replied, "F#*@ what?"
She knew how much he meant to me.
I had last seen Chris play 10 months ago. He was as fantastic and moving as always. Cool, both in control and at ease in his banter, singing, and playing. It was the sixth, and now I know my last, time I saw him in concert. The first was on the last tour of Soundgarden in the '97. They opened for the grandfather of grunge, Neil Young.
The next time wasn't until April 11, 2007 at the Metro in Chicago. It ranks as my #1 concert experience...and let me tell you, I've been to a lot. I had begged so many people to go with me (can you believe this), and FINALLY my friend Andrea said she'd go. The concert was sold out, but we got some tickets from a StubHub type place. I remember when she sent me an email that contained a copy of the ticket. I swooned. I printed out that email and carried it around with me in my wallet. I loved his voice, his music, his looks, his attitude. I just couldn't believe I was going. Chris had been through Audioslave by then, and he was touring as a solo act. His hair was short at that time, really showing off his gorgeous face.
I remember what I wore, how my hair was cut, and that it was raining that night. I was standing next to a guy who had driven up from Champaign from the University of Illinois. He had a cold, but he was there. As we stood waiting for him to come out, my heart was pounding, and I felt myself getting jelly legs! I turned to my friend and said, "I have to go!" I just was overcome with the moment. She said, "Turn around, you're not going anywhere." And I turned around, and one minute later he came out, and cooly said, "How ya' doin'?"
We were only about 10 feet from the stage, and he could survey the crowd easily. And at one point, truly, he stared right at me with those blue piercing eyes. I'm sure he held everyone's gaze at some point, but at that moment it was me, and I couldn't breathe.
The most memorable moment was when he sang his version of Michael Jackson's, "Billy Jean." It was slowed down into a soulful groove and then crescendoed into his sexy wail at just the time the lights flashed an guitars wailed. I will never forget that moment. It was one of those times where I was fully IN it, but also was outside of myself with this knowledge of what I was experiencing. It was out-of-body is all I can say. You don't get transported like that at every concert. Truly, there's just a handful.
I saw him 2 more times that year--once when he stripped his sweaty shirt off, and that was a moment we didn't forget.
But let me make it clear--he had physical beauty, yes, but it was that voice...that distinctive voice--hard-edged but tender and feeling, too--that was the true draw. Henry Rollins once said that Chris Cornell's voice could peel paint off of a wall. But it was the soulful side of his slower songs and acoustic performances--powerful, painful, rough-edged, expressive--that was the true draw. He made you feel it. Robert Plant of Led Zepplin had that influence of the blues mixed in with rock mixed with Middle Eastern music. He was bluesy, hard and soft. That was Chris Cornell.
The strangest thing is that I had been listening to Chris nonstop over the last week. I had been painting late at night, especially last weekend, and I had Chris playing on YouTube. I love his combination of the music from U2's "One" and the lyrics of Metallica's "One." Over and over I played it, along with his version of Prince's, "Nothing Compares 2 U" and Whitney Houston's/Dolly Parton's, "I Will Always Love You." I listened to Soundgarden's, "Fell on Black Days," and Audioslave's, "Getaway Car." I always loved "Sunshower" from the movie "Great Expectations" etc. I could list this on and on. I'm listening to the latter right now, and my heart is in my throat, because he is gone. He really is gone.
Maybe that powerfully pained voice had to come from a place of some desperation/depression. I wouldn't have thought Chris would kill himself. He had been through so many suicides of friends and contemporaries in his life (e.g., Andy Wood--from Mother Love Bone which caused him to form the group Temple of the Dog and which just recently reformed and toured; Layne Stanley; Kurt Cobain, etc.) No one knows, though, the depth of someone's pain. There's an article that states him as saying, "it's harder to get help the more famous you are." I get it. You're in the public eye. You supposedly have everything you could ever want. That's the worst part of depression. You SHOULD feel o.k. with all you have. And when you don't, where do you turn, what do you strive for? What gives you the drive to put one foot in front of the other when you're in pain?
I knew he loved his second wife and children deeply. I've watched him carrying his daughter Toni around in videos and at concerts since she was a baby. She looks just like him and has a beautiful voice as well. He had to be in so much anguish to be driven to what happened last night.
I've watched videos of his last performance in Detroit, and he looks weary, exhausted. The songs seem very slowed down. I read somewhere that some insiders thought he had relapsed with alcohol. He had been sober for about 14 years. But this is all supposition--you want to know why now, just like with Prince--another irreplaceable voice. All I know is, he could not have been in his right mind. Was he weary from playing the same songs after 25 years? Was the pressure, and inability to get out of something--a tour--pressures from the music industry just too much? I don't know, and we probably won't.
But Chris, your talent, your voice, we ache for you, and we are crushed. God bless you.
I replied, "F#*@ what?"
She knew how much he meant to me.
I had last seen Chris play 10 months ago. He was as fantastic and moving as always. Cool, both in control and at ease in his banter, singing, and playing. It was the sixth, and now I know my last, time I saw him in concert. The first was on the last tour of Soundgarden in the '97. They opened for the grandfather of grunge, Neil Young.
The next time wasn't until April 11, 2007 at the Metro in Chicago. It ranks as my #1 concert experience...and let me tell you, I've been to a lot. I had begged so many people to go with me (can you believe this), and FINALLY my friend Andrea said she'd go. The concert was sold out, but we got some tickets from a StubHub type place. I remember when she sent me an email that contained a copy of the ticket. I swooned. I printed out that email and carried it around with me in my wallet. I loved his voice, his music, his looks, his attitude. I just couldn't believe I was going. Chris had been through Audioslave by then, and he was touring as a solo act. His hair was short at that time, really showing off his gorgeous face.
I remember what I wore, how my hair was cut, and that it was raining that night. I was standing next to a guy who had driven up from Champaign from the University of Illinois. He had a cold, but he was there. As we stood waiting for him to come out, my heart was pounding, and I felt myself getting jelly legs! I turned to my friend and said, "I have to go!" I just was overcome with the moment. She said, "Turn around, you're not going anywhere." And I turned around, and one minute later he came out, and cooly said, "How ya' doin'?"
We were only about 10 feet from the stage, and he could survey the crowd easily. And at one point, truly, he stared right at me with those blue piercing eyes. I'm sure he held everyone's gaze at some point, but at that moment it was me, and I couldn't breathe.
The most memorable moment was when he sang his version of Michael Jackson's, "Billy Jean." It was slowed down into a soulful groove and then crescendoed into his sexy wail at just the time the lights flashed an guitars wailed. I will never forget that moment. It was one of those times where I was fully IN it, but also was outside of myself with this knowledge of what I was experiencing. It was out-of-body is all I can say. You don't get transported like that at every concert. Truly, there's just a handful.
I saw him 2 more times that year--once when he stripped his sweaty shirt off, and that was a moment we didn't forget.
But let me make it clear--he had physical beauty, yes, but it was that voice...that distinctive voice--hard-edged but tender and feeling, too--that was the true draw. Henry Rollins once said that Chris Cornell's voice could peel paint off of a wall. But it was the soulful side of his slower songs and acoustic performances--powerful, painful, rough-edged, expressive--that was the true draw. He made you feel it. Robert Plant of Led Zepplin had that influence of the blues mixed in with rock mixed with Middle Eastern music. He was bluesy, hard and soft. That was Chris Cornell.
The strangest thing is that I had been listening to Chris nonstop over the last week. I had been painting late at night, especially last weekend, and I had Chris playing on YouTube. I love his combination of the music from U2's "One" and the lyrics of Metallica's "One." Over and over I played it, along with his version of Prince's, "Nothing Compares 2 U" and Whitney Houston's/Dolly Parton's, "I Will Always Love You." I listened to Soundgarden's, "Fell on Black Days," and Audioslave's, "Getaway Car." I always loved "Sunshower" from the movie "Great Expectations" etc. I could list this on and on. I'm listening to the latter right now, and my heart is in my throat, because he is gone. He really is gone.
Maybe that powerfully pained voice had to come from a place of some desperation/depression. I wouldn't have thought Chris would kill himself. He had been through so many suicides of friends and contemporaries in his life (e.g., Andy Wood--from Mother Love Bone which caused him to form the group Temple of the Dog and which just recently reformed and toured; Layne Stanley; Kurt Cobain, etc.) No one knows, though, the depth of someone's pain. There's an article that states him as saying, "it's harder to get help the more famous you are." I get it. You're in the public eye. You supposedly have everything you could ever want. That's the worst part of depression. You SHOULD feel o.k. with all you have. And when you don't, where do you turn, what do you strive for? What gives you the drive to put one foot in front of the other when you're in pain?
I knew he loved his second wife and children deeply. I've watched him carrying his daughter Toni around in videos and at concerts since she was a baby. She looks just like him and has a beautiful voice as well. He had to be in so much anguish to be driven to what happened last night.
I've watched videos of his last performance in Detroit, and he looks weary, exhausted. The songs seem very slowed down. I read somewhere that some insiders thought he had relapsed with alcohol. He had been sober for about 14 years. But this is all supposition--you want to know why now, just like with Prince--another irreplaceable voice. All I know is, he could not have been in his right mind. Was he weary from playing the same songs after 25 years? Was the pressure, and inability to get out of something--a tour--pressures from the music industry just too much? I don't know, and we probably won't.
But Chris, your talent, your voice, we ache for you, and we are crushed. God bless you.
From 7/11/16 - the last time I saw Chris in concert.
Some of the better articles on Chris:
Chris Cornell's Final Red Carpet with Family
LATimes 1991 article w/Chris Cornell on making Badmotorfinger
The one below is something I found after I original blogpost. The LA Times writer wrote the same thing I did, comparing Chris and Robert Plant and Mideastern Influence. I guess I heard the same thing they did:
Chris Cornell-A generation lost its Robert Plant
LA Times Obit Chris Cornell
Chris Cornell Interviews Jimmy Page, Part 1
LATimes 1991 article w/Chris Cornell on making Badmotorfinger
The one below is something I found after I original blogpost. The LA Times writer wrote the same thing I did, comparing Chris and Robert Plant and Mideastern Influence. I guess I heard the same thing they did:
Chris Cornell-A generation lost its Robert Plant
LA Times Obit Chris Cornell
Chris Cornell Interviews Jimmy Page, Part 1
Tuesday, March 5, 2013
Day 70 Goodbye Emily-I Wish You Could Come Back
Yesterday I found out that one of the students at our college had committed suicide. I opened just a general information email and glanced through it. There was also an attachment, and I only clicked on it because it mentioned IVAR (our local animal rescue organization). My husband and I do a lot of work for them so I wanted to see what the message was. When the email opened, it said Phi Theta Kappa was sponsoring a food drive for IVAR in memory of Emily Dunn.
I read those words again, "In Memory." I...couldn't believe it. This student had come to my window so many times over the last couple of years. I wait on a lot of students, but there are a handful who I really click with, and she was one of them. Our conversations were always 5-10 minutes long, which is a lot when you're running off to class. She was smart as a whip with one of the most wicked, witty, cynical, rapid-fire sense of humors you've ever heard. Her comebacks were like a ping pong game on speed, and she would have me roaring in laughter. I told her all the time that she needed to forget college and go be a comedian. I had even printed out information on the adult immersion summer course at Second City for her--I wish she could have went. You know, if you're really funny, you're really smart. And she was.
She was often changing her schedule, and after the last semester, her major. She used to joke that "just because I'm Asian doesn't mean I'm good at math." She was adopted from Korea as a child, and we talked about that dynamic as well.
She was a firecracker. One day she came in with a stocking cap covering her bald head. She told me that someone--I will purposely be vague here--had told her the only thing beautiful/pretty about her was her hair, so out of spite, she shaved her head. What a rebel. I don't even know if the story was true or not, but I believed her.
I remember thinking at the beginning of the semester that I hadn't seen her much. And then one day she was at my counter. I don't even remember what we said. It was a strange exchange. Enough so that it registered in my brain that something didn't seem right. She was quiet, she barely looked up, and she seemed...distracted. She seemed in a hurry--I thought maybe she was late for class--and I got the distinct feeling that she didn't want to talk. I've since learned (again, I'll be vague), that she wrapped up details at the college. That was Wednesday before Valentine's Day and by Friday she was gone.
I asked everyone, do you know what happened, did anyone have a clue? Someone mentioned she had a lot of things going on, but didn't elaborate. I want to know. Not out of morbid curiosity, but so I can understand; and also because I want to hold onto all pieces of her, as if knowing more about her will solidify her in my mind, help bring her back; but, of course that can never be. I was lying in bed last night, thinking of that last exchange. It seems ghost-like now. Not scary, but ephemeral, hazy...like she was already going.
I have been there, had that feeling that it makes no difference if you're around, that you feel like you have no hope or way out. Anytime I hear someone spout those ridiculous words that "suicide is the ultimate selfish act" I want to scream. When someone is in that much pain--so much pain that they will end their own life--they're not being selfish; they're being tortured internally in the most brutal of ways. So people, you stop being so selfish when you say something like that.
Emily, I think of all the mean-spirited, crass people still walking around this day and then I think of your love of animals, personality, intelligence, and humor gone from this earth. I miss you; I wish I could have known what was wrong and helped you; and I will never forget you. Your beautiful spirit mattered in this world.
I looked at it again..."in memory."
I looked at the picture.
I looked at the name again.
I felt like I was in slow motion, mind drugged, body shaking.
I read those words again, "In Memory." I...couldn't believe it. This student had come to my window so many times over the last couple of years. I wait on a lot of students, but there are a handful who I really click with, and she was one of them. Our conversations were always 5-10 minutes long, which is a lot when you're running off to class. She was smart as a whip with one of the most wicked, witty, cynical, rapid-fire sense of humors you've ever heard. Her comebacks were like a ping pong game on speed, and she would have me roaring in laughter. I told her all the time that she needed to forget college and go be a comedian. I had even printed out information on the adult immersion summer course at Second City for her--I wish she could have went. You know, if you're really funny, you're really smart. And she was.
She was often changing her schedule, and after the last semester, her major. She used to joke that "just because I'm Asian doesn't mean I'm good at math." She was adopted from Korea as a child, and we talked about that dynamic as well.
She was a firecracker. One day she came in with a stocking cap covering her bald head. She told me that someone--I will purposely be vague here--had told her the only thing beautiful/pretty about her was her hair, so out of spite, she shaved her head. What a rebel. I don't even know if the story was true or not, but I believed her.
I remember thinking at the beginning of the semester that I hadn't seen her much. And then one day she was at my counter. I don't even remember what we said. It was a strange exchange. Enough so that it registered in my brain that something didn't seem right. She was quiet, she barely looked up, and she seemed...distracted. She seemed in a hurry--I thought maybe she was late for class--and I got the distinct feeling that she didn't want to talk. I've since learned (again, I'll be vague), that she wrapped up details at the college. That was Wednesday before Valentine's Day and by Friday she was gone.
I asked everyone, do you know what happened, did anyone have a clue? Someone mentioned she had a lot of things going on, but didn't elaborate. I want to know. Not out of morbid curiosity, but so I can understand; and also because I want to hold onto all pieces of her, as if knowing more about her will solidify her in my mind, help bring her back; but, of course that can never be. I was lying in bed last night, thinking of that last exchange. It seems ghost-like now. Not scary, but ephemeral, hazy...like she was already going.
I have been there, had that feeling that it makes no difference if you're around, that you feel like you have no hope or way out. Anytime I hear someone spout those ridiculous words that "suicide is the ultimate selfish act" I want to scream. When someone is in that much pain--so much pain that they will end their own life--they're not being selfish; they're being tortured internally in the most brutal of ways. So people, you stop being so selfish when you say something like that.
Emily, I think of all the mean-spirited, crass people still walking around this day and then I think of your love of animals, personality, intelligence, and humor gone from this earth. I miss you; I wish I could have known what was wrong and helped you; and I will never forget you. Your beautiful spirit mattered in this world.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)