Dear Alec, I’ve been a big fan of your work over the years and have always enjoyed the sardonic smirk that seemed to undermine every celebrity endeavor you were part of and lend realism to your charity work. I simply liked your style.
Like you, I speak out of turn, blurt my anger, overwhelm people with my opinions, and care deeply about my fellow humans. So, I’ve always felt a fondness. Like Philip Seymour Hoffman (RIP, dear artist), Amy Poehler and Tina Fey, Mark Maron, Louis CK, Chris Rock and Patti Smith, I’m grateful you exist as famous people. You carve out more room for the outspoken and passionate. Sometimes you stick your foot in your mouth. Sometimes you say angry things (was super sad about the phone message to your daughter and I hope it’s led to a better relationship in the long run), sometimes you overreact, sometimes you’re rude.
I just wanted you to know that after reading the New York Mag piece, I’m wishing you the best. I’m sorry you feel defeated about public life. I’ll miss you out there raising hell and taking hits. I’ll miss the podcast. I’ll miss your insouciant snark and thoughtful, no bullshit words. But hey, you got love and a baby. You’re a lucky man.
One time, in Brooklyn after a Fourth of July fireworks display, I was riding my bike home and all the cars were piling in the bike lane. I started yelling at them. A guy cycled past with a young lady riding side saddle. He called out gently, “Don’t let ’em get to you.” And I remember his words in times of pressure. Don’t let ’em get to you, Alec. It’s a long road. Stay well, k