Talk about the loose ends about to come off the rails of your life…

I cant even imagine this kind of (depressed) daily routine.

Here is the best daily routine, if you really want to know. I like the idle leisure of it all. But again, who could pull this off but a “Danish Aristocrat.”

Ursula K. Le Guin’s routine is nothing to sneeze at either.

I’m sorry, it’s just messed up how often Bourdain openly referred to suicide.

My first marriage had just ended and I was, to say the least, at loose ends. By “loose ends” I mean aimless and regularly suicidal. I mean that my daily routine began with me waking up around ten, smoking a joint, and going to the beach—where I’d drink myself stupid on beer, smoke a few more joints, and pass out until mid-afternoon. This to be followed by an early-evening rise, another joint, and then off to the bars, followed by the brothels. By then, usually very late at night, I’d invariably find myself staggeringly drunk—the kind of drunk where you’ve got to put a hand over one eye to see straight. On the way back from one whorehouse or another, I’d stop at the shawarma truck on the Dutch side of the island, and, as best I could, shove a meat-filled pita into my face, sauce squirting onto my shirtfront. Then, standing there in the dark parking lot, surrounded by a corona of spilled sauce, shredded lettuce, and lamb fragments, I’d fire up another joint before sliding behind the wheel of my rented 4×4, yank the top down, then peel out onto the road with a squeal of tires.

-Anthony Bourdain, Medium Raw