Death…and Detroit

Language warning here – just sayin’…

ANTHONY BOURDAIN: PARTS UNKNOWN
NEW YORK, NY – OCTOBER 31: Anthony Bourdain films Parts Unknown Queens in New York, New York on November 11, 2016. (photo by David Scott Holloway)

Anthony Fucking Bourdain. Gone before his time from a disease that doesn’t give a shit if you are rich, are poor, physically healthy or have the best supportive care network on this earth.

I’ll admit, I thought Bourdain was a big time jerk and arrogant ass until he took his show to Detroit for the first time.  And I realized when I watched that, he ‘got’ it.  He ‘got’ Detroit. Bourdain loved Detroit. It didn’t all come out on that show that night, but I could see it.  He understood the grim reality of those who live there.  He understood their loss, he understood their resilience, and he understood how they just continue to move forward when everything feels so very much stacked against them.

“Detroit looks like motherfucking Detroit.  As it should.” he said in the show.  “Those who watch this show, smugly thinking, “That could never happen to my city” are dreaming.  Detroit’s problems are America’s problems.”

I’ve been a “Metro Detroiter” on and off for about 17 years.  I wasn’t born in the city, but still I have a fondness for it and it’s hardships.  I’ve been angry about the ‘ruin porn’ and I was pissed as hell about the fact that Detroit entered bankruptcy and screwed the pensioners that still called the city home.  I’ve driven 8 Mile, Telegraph, Gratiot and 696 back and forth to work, worked in the RenCen retail areas and when I was really lucky, took in the occasional Wings game at the Joe.  I even scored a pair of tickets to the Auto Show at Cobo center for my boyfriend and I once when I barely had enough money to scrape by.  That was back when the auto industry was still doing somewhat well.  But that changed soon enough.

And now, after hearing the news today, I now understand a little better why Bourdain got Detroit.  And perhaps I understand it a little more than the average person does.  Because depression fucks with you just as much as the people of Detroit have been fucked over by the auto industry, politicians, the state of Michigan and by billionaires like Matty Moroun making riches even now off the city’s blight.  Depression sucks your will to live ever so slowly, making mincemeat out of the joys you once held dear, making you think that you aren’t worth the air going into your lungs.  It hurts, and it hurts bad.

“Detroit’s Problems are America’s problems.” Bourdain said.  He’s right there too.  Suicide rates in the past decade have gone up 33% in Michigan, compared to the national average raising by 30%.  Both are grim statistics.

Perhaps one reason Bourdain had a love of the resilience of Detroit is because he willed that resilience within himself.  If he had anything like the depression I’ve battled with, I’m sure thoughts like that crossed his mind.  I bet he had days where he was proud of himself and his resilience, beating those demons for another chance at another day.  I bet he’s thought of the Detroiters he met while he filmed Parts Unknown on those days where the battle came to a draw and thought, “if they can go one more day, so can I.”  And he’s probably thought of those Detroiters on the days where he couldn’t bear to go on, wondering how the hell they actually did it; how they survived and made it bearable day in and day out in an a place that he compared to Chernobyl.

Maybe he was trying to get some of that resilience to rub off onto him.  After all he was working on a documentary about Detroit before he died.  And he consistently spoke fondly of the town in almost every interview, even going so far to say he wished he could say he was from Detroit, because that would be the coolest thing he could ever say.  In one interview he described Detroit as:

“Beautiful. Magnificent. The boundless hope and dreams and optimism of its builders is reflected in the architecture. I feel anger seeing the extent to which it has been allowed to crumble. I feel hopeful. And I feel a tremendous appreciation that people have stuck it out and are proud of their city. They’re loyal to it. It’s truly a great city and the font of so many important American economic and cultural improvisations and movements. That it could have been allowed to come close to failing is a national disgrace.”

And the fact that he, like many other people in this nation couldn’t openly talk about the depression they faced is also a national disgrace.

Now, in the aftermath, perhaps knowing that this larger than life person who said he had the best job in the world lost his battle means that I shouldn’t be so hard on myself when I fight my own battles.  Perhaps I can recognize a little better that my own struggle is real, and it’s hard enough to take anyone down.  Perhaps I can start being a little bit easier on myself on days when it’s the worst, and push off those harder tasks until tomorrow, when I might have a bit more mental strength.  Maybe I can try to find even more healthy coping mechanisms to keep fighting.

Maybe this Metro Detroiter can find that resilience Bourdain was looking for.

Lifeline Suicide Prevention Hotline

To Write Love on Her Arms – Help by topic page

Advertisements

Poem: Reality Received

Blindfolded and reaching I find,
The start of that which was bound
Undeterred, I pressed on
Not knowing anything wrong

The smell of blood caught me
The liquid to my touch, thick and sticky
“No, my dear” He said quietly
“Do not step back, press on directly.”

The wounds I felt were deep
Her moans from pain I reaped
Understanding nothing, I continued
As his reassurances were issued

Finally, feeling the pain I knew
What was not within my view
He took my blindfold to confirm
That which I could now discern

I looked at the reflection where I reached
The blood and sores I beeseeched
I had not known what I asked
Yet now, my die was cast

The Trickster laughed and smiled at me
Yet ever his eyes wept tears for me
“You locked yourself in this trap” said he
“It’s spikes and thorns still tight in thee”

“Fear of failure, fear of anger
Your personal jailers clamor
Their protection ended long ago
And now they keep pieces unknown”

“Learning is healing, yet pain exists
You called it to you, and did insist
Now take the shards back from the abyss
Accept the pieces in as they fit”

I stared in disbelief,
How could I, in my grief
Ask for such a thing of hurt?
Yet I did – my soul, I tore apart

Now the healing has begun
The pain comes as I awaken
But now the true work is being done
As I slowly integrate into one.

Photo from Deviant Art

Poem: Hate Over Connections (Another Shooting)

Take your prayers and thoughts and shove it
We made this mess, we live it
Day by day, night by night
The burning of the world never ends

So you don’t think you had an effect?
When was the last time you tried to act?
No, ACT
Not Cry
Not beg
Not pray
ACT – with a vote?
A call?
Donate?
Or volunteer?
Or ask why?

Did you try?  No, you didn’t.
Too afraid of loosing your hate?
The hate sitting in your bones
Your mind?
Your heart?
Too afraid to lose “us” vs “them”?
Afraid of the human under that skin?

Afraid of that connection?
That touch
That knowing
That feeling
You don’t give a fuck about all that
Or anyone but yourself
Let them die,
Let them burn
You’ve got more important things to do
Like fighting for YOUR rights
YOUR religion
YOUR free speech
YOUR right to be loud and free
It’s YOUR gun, YOUR Ammo
And that’s alright
Cuz your rights just killed again
And Again
And Again

So cherish that hate
that blessed emotion
Keep it close so we don’t touch

And the world will burn