Well, to be fair, I suspect the food on the Trans-Siberian was pretty heavy, but apparently it bounces, so that works out.
One of the topics he visits over and over is depression. I relate to this on a very deep level, as I am plumbed for the stuff, as apparently is he. He talks very candidly about what it is like to have your life and consciousness ground under the boot of depression, and what kind of heroic effort is required to keep functioning or even pull ahead of the depression.
He also examines in some detail the interactions humans have with one another, and assessed the meaning and viability of these interactions. He reads widely, listens to music voraciously, and somehow still has time to create, do stuff, run a company, travel, interact with people, do TV and radio and and and.
The man may be a shark, maybe he will die if he stops moving, I don't know. What I do know is that I really admire his energy and fortitude, as well as his storytelling skills and ability to live in the world as a deeply empathetic person.
I have often thought of telling him how much it meant to me to hear him talk about his depression when he visited Albuquerque in 2003. I was going through some tough crap, and his tales of hitting the gym as a means of hitting back at depression really inspired me. (I actually ended up training for and competing in a triathlon because of this.) The words he spoke meant so much that I actually thought about going behind the venue to shake his hand and thank him personally. I couldn't shake the hand, or write the letter, because I feel like it's hard enough for people to get on a stage and bare their souls without a bunch of asshole strangers mobbing them afterward wanting pinches of actual flesh.
Maybe this public declaration of my admiration will suffice. Maybe he'll even see it.