Reflecting.

16 Years, People.

Today is the 16th anniversary of the first episode of WTF being posted. That’s fucking crazy. 

I think I’m having a lot of feelings. I have a hard time identifying them because it’s a bit complex. When I look at the list of 16-hundred-and-something guests it’s daunting. You should look at it. It’s really astounding.

I have measured my life through Shure SM7 microphones. You have weighed it with me. 

It’s interesting that most everything I have shared with you happened in real time for me. I don’t listen to the podcast and once I’m done talking either alone or with someone that is the last time I hear it. Then it goes to Brendan McDonald who, whether he likes it or not, is a good part of my living memory. 

It all happened in an amplified fog. The time didn’t fly by but looking back at it because my memories are all tethered to real time I really have to reach back into them to find moments. So many. Moments. 

I think it’s been good that the roll out to the end is so long. Sometimes it takes time to know in your bones that something is coming to an end. Anything. The evolution of grief, gratitude, relief, fear and some kind of loneliness that unfolds. And some attempt to see a new future starts to take hold. 

I know I’ve been through a lot, almost all of it. Outside of having kids. I’ve shared most of it with you. The weird thing is some of you probably have more distinct memories of my life than I do. 

I might need to catch up with myself. Fill in the blanks. Hear about what I went through from me. I might not do that for a while but I know I can. 

It’s a strange thing to have done something for 16 years. Every one of those episodes was fully engaged. All I could give, I gave. It’s strange to feel like I missed something because I was all in. I missed what you got and now I’m reflecting. 

It might be the long weekend. It might be the end of the summer. It might be the end of the world. There’s a weight to the silence that happens this time of year. I guess everyone is on vacation. I don’t know, but there is a reprieve from noise. At least for me. This weekend in particular feels so quiet and it’s so hot. Everything just slows down and I feel myself feeling the weight of what’s happening. 

I’m trying to use the peace to find some peace in me and try to figure out how to sit in that. We’ll see. 

Today I talk to Tim Heidecker. Smart guy. Funny guy. Thursday I talk to Spike Lee. 

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

A Clown in Bear's Clothing.

The Wild West, Folks.

I want to thank everyone who came out to the screening of McCabe and Mrs. Miller last night at the Aero Theater for American Cinematheque. It was an amazing print. I felt like I was seeing it for the first time. 

I am obsessed with that film. I have been obsessed with it since I was in high school. Last night was probably the third time I’ve seen it in a theater. I get more out of the movie every time I see it. I think that’s why I’m obsessed with it. When I saw it when I was younger it made me realize that there was so much I didn’t understand. That film is art and it can be deep and work on many levels. They are still revealing themselves. 

Real works of art grow with you. They change as you change. You can go back to them your whole life and more will be revealed. 

My mentor Gus Blaisdell who owned a bookstore in Albuquerque encouraged my obsession. He told me I should write a paper on the movie to be published. I can’t remember whether I was in high school or maybe my first year of college. I couldn’t write a paper. I never got the hang of it. I don’t think I could do it now. The prospect terrifies me. 

I think the thing that really pulls me into the film every time is the humanity of it. It’s a revisionist Western where the anti hero, McCabe, played by Warren Beatty, is somehow painfully human in his plight. The film is shot in a naturalistic way, in sepia tone, in a small, messy western town. I would say if you break it down it’s about the difficulties of starting a small business when you’re up against corporate interests. 

It simultaneously shatters and promotes the myth of the Wild West. It explores individualism being crushed by corporate greed. It deals with unrequited but somehow deep love between an emotionally stunted man and a prostitute. It is set in the final phase of Manifest Destiny and shows how inconsequential the little guy is in the face of corporate expansion in the name of progress and how empty the promise of religion is. The third act is driven by morally bankrupt guns for hire that each represent a different archetype of the old west. 

Every character is a fully realized human being somehow. 

I have been deeply focused on McCabe’s hat and jacket for years. Wondering if the visual language of them on screen was intended to suggest something other than the period. A bowler and a bearskin coat. I believe in film, there is no way not to associate the bowler/derby hat with Chaplin. McCabe is sort of a bumbling clown that somehow effectively punches up with his clumsiness. Not unlike Chaplin’s Little Tramp. The bearskin coat is huge and cocoons his whole being. He is a clown in bear’s clothing. 

Ultimately, McCabe succeeds in winning the fight, but dies in the process. The film goes out from Mrs. Miller’s point of view, as played by Julie Christie, in an opiated stupor. We see a slowly turning small ceramic vessel that looks like the world spinning from outer space. Time goes on. All things must pass. 

I can’t say enough about how great it has been in these trying times to watch old masterpieces. It is encouraging me to try to put my phone down and find a pace of life that isn’t driven by information detritus pummeling my mind and mediated social engagement that works in all the time zones at once and makes our brains incapable of sitting in ourselves while sitting in the real pace of our lives. It steals our time and our lives. 

Today I talk to Jeremy Allen White. Nice guy. On Thursday I have a very deep talk with Regina King. Both terrific talks. 

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

Deep Wiring.

The battle continues, People.

The battle within. I need to resolve this conflict before it’s too late. That goes for me and the world. I probably have more input on the home front than the global stage. 

And believe me, I’m sick of myself going on about it. There’s plenty of things that have changed for me and my life but there’s a deep wiring that hasn’t. I’m not even afraid of cutting the wrong wire at this point. The most it could detonate is a lifetime of welled up tears. 

Might be time to drain that well and fill it with some cement. Ground it. 

I think what really comes up with me now is the reality that no one is coming to help. This feels like it’s happening on a political level, which is too terrifying to take in all the time, but also on a personal level. 

You reach a certain age, usually pretty young, when you realize your parents are just people and they aren’t going to help after a certain point, if they did at all, really. So, it’s on you. And there’s some part of my brain, emotionally, that’s pretty stifled. I assume that’s where a lot of my anxiety comes from. Since my parents were relatively bad at their jobs I just put a chaos generator in place in my head that assumes that everything is going to be bad and I’m bad and the world is bad and I learned to live with that. Other people could always make it okay in passing. Some things work out which makes it okay. The generator and wiring runs deep though. I need to rip it out. 

Again, I’m tired of talking about this, living in it, not fixing it. It’s embarrassing. If I had kids I’m not even sure they would help. See, even my imaginary kids are shitty. 

The bottom line is no one can come to save you but you or maybe Jesus I’m told. I can’t do that. My brain can’t suspend disbelief that deeply. I get it though. Christianity is a shame racket. As is consumerism. If everyone felt good about themselves no one would kick in for the church or buy things they don’t need. I know that. 

Truth is, people will show up for you if you let them and on a good day I can show up for myself. 

I’m not as dramatic as I used to be but I have flare ups. Kit and I went to a screening of the new 70mm print of the director’s cut of Close Encounters of the Third Kind. We were excited. I was happy I got the tickets. We get there and I pull up the tickets up on my phone and I had only bought one. A grown up would’ve just admitted the mistake and dealt with it. I chose to lose my shit entirely. I went to the box office and tried dropping my name but it was sold out. I was consumed with anger at myself. I knew I disappointed Kit. I melted down a bit. Mad at me and then mad at her because I knew I embarrassed her with my anger and my dumb old guy mistake. 

Then some fan walked up to me and sensed my anger. He said, ‘Don’t you get VIP treatment?’ I said not only do I not get it but I fucked up and only bought one ticket. Kit was pissed that I snapped and was walking away. I asked if she wanted to do standby so we got on the line. There were only a few of us including that fan and someone he was with. It was such a bummer. We got there early to get good seats and it was all a bust. Then some guy came up to the line and said he had one ticket if anyone needed it. I said, ‘Oh, god, please, yes.’ But I was behind the guy who was my fan. Kit says, ‘They were first.’ I was like, okay, sorry. Then the guy said we could have it. I said, no, that’s not right. He insisted. So, we took it. 

The guy with the ticket and the fan came to help. Saved me from a fight with myself and probably with Kit. It’s small potatoes and I wouldn’t say I was open to the universe and that’s why it happened. I was just glad it did. I’m grateful to those two people. 

I had already lost my shit and there was some regrouping necessary. 

Kit said sometimes dating me is like dating a Tim Robinson character. That cut through. I apologized for the scene and for snapping at her. We had a nice night. 

I do feel like I owed that fan some gesture of gratitude but maybe I’ve given him a lot already. I don’t know. He saved my ass from me. 

Today I talk to Ben Stiller again. On Friday I talk to audio artist and film restorer Peter Conheim. Great talks. 

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live! 

Love,
Maron

Speak Up.

Another year sober, People.

Twenty-six years. It’s nuts. As I get older the years seem to go by faster but then I have a sober anniversary it always hits me as astounding. I’ve been sober for a long time. 

I didn’t even post it on social media because I realized it’s mine. I realized that so much of what I post if it’s not just promotional, which isn’t much anymore, is for validation or support. I don’t need that with this day. I need to feel it and own it and reflect myself. It’s mine. 

The reflecting is interesting. What to reflect on. Other than the feat of getting that much time. 

I think gratitude is important but I don’t engage it much and I should. I think there is some part of me that is afraid to be grateful, afraid of joy, afraid of happiness, afraid of peace because I assume it will all be crushed or taken away. I can’t do it in a general sense so the exercise to me is identifying what those things could be attached to. What can’t be taken away. Because by stifling them I take them away from myself. 

I choose to focus on my flaws and use them as a scourge as opposed to accepting them.

I can attach gratitude to how I was, to how I am and how I got here. Much of that is rooted in sobriety. I would not be where I am now, or possibly even alive, without committing to it. My journey has always been to find myself and live in that. To do that I’ve had to remove a lot of obstacles through hardship or choice to allow that to happen. I’m not fully there yet but I am close. 

Accepting the constructive insanity that is early sobriety as opposed to the destructive insanity that is living in the disease of active addiction began the process. It unfolds in many ways on many fronts. 

I am grateful for the life I have and much of me can’t believe fully that I am living it. Getting sober opened the door of possibilities and choices.  

I did it the old school way through that secret society and rooms. It is not the only way, but the one thing that I know is that you really can't do it alone. I let myself be brainwashed by the program because, honestly, it needed washing. I needed to learn how to live as a whole person and see the parameters of my illness of heart, mind and spirit in all of its nuance. The program enables that. It also enables a way to take responsibility for the damage you have done to yourself and others. That damage can happen in sobriety as well (and will) but you are onto yourself and hopefully you can engage the tools to live in a certain kind of truth. 

That said, however you do it is whatever you need to do. 

On another note, I don’t really see myself as a courageous person. It is not an incentive to me. I speak my mind but it’s because I get to a point within me where I see no choice but to do so. There’s a lot of me out there saying what I believe, specifically about comedy in relation to the culture we live in. I did it because it had to be said. 

The pushback from the fascists posing as believers in democracy is always that we don’t make room for other points of view that aren’t ours. This is in bad faith because their ‘point of view’ is generally a dozen ways to get us to shut up. So, it's not a point of view, it's just straight suppression and oppression and it is scary but…

Speak up. 

Today I talk to Bowen Yang and it’s quite a lovely talk. On Thursday I talk to singer songwriter and author Neko Case about her life. 

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

Last Few Beefs.

Cats, People.

I have never had easy cats. Ever. 

Before I update you on that situation (because people asked) I want to talk about the trip to NYC. It was nuts. 

Thankfully, I have morning radio experience. Which means I can show up and plow through any TV or radio appearance, no matter how tired I am. 

On Tuesday I did Morning Joe which was a bit odd. He was on Zoom and I was in the studio with the other two guys. It all happens very quickly and no one seems quite real. It’s just a frequency that they operate at. Their bodies are there but they are in some kind of broadcast mode, just part of the frequency. About a quarter of who they are is actually engaged. I am usually fully engaged which is a nice contrast. There’s also absolutely nothing that can happen in the form of real conversation in these quick hits. I also did Dan Soder’s podcast which was fun. I seem to be talking about the last few beefs I have out in the world of comedy. So be it. 

Wednesday I did the CBS morning show which was similar to Morning Joe but I would say that the crew was actually about 75 percent there which was nice. Not just husks. Nate Burleson was great. They all were. Some real talk happened. It was a nice surprise. Then I did Josh Horowitz’s show Happy, Sad, Confused. A podcast, I guess. He’s good. Podcasts are different from network TV which is I guess why they are winning. Then I did the pre-interview for the Seth Meyers show. Those are always fun. Pacing around a hotel room telling stories to a segment producer. 

Seth went great. I was loose and it was fun. I met Pamela Anderson!

After Seth I went back to the hotel and interviewed Questlove which you’ll hear today. 

Thursday I did a CNN Morning news show of some kind. The building was kind of empty and the hosts were fine. Everywhere was definitely part of the frequency. It was quick and I don’t feel like anyone saw it. Then I did two video things. One for Men’s Health and one for Esquire. The editor of Esquire interviewed me. It was long and kind of in depth. Some stuff I have never said or framed like that before. We did like an hour and half. I think they only post 15 mins. We’ll see. Then I interviewed Bowen Yang, which was awesome. Then the 92nd St Y screening of the special and a talk with Jim Gaffigan. 

I can’t watch the special anymore, but you can. I’m very proud of it. It’s always great to talk to Jim. You can hear that on Thursday’s show. 

So, cats. 

Charlie did fine locked in my room the entire time I was away. I think he probably prefers it. Many of you asked if Jackson Galaxy’s advice helped. I think it helped me frame it differently. He suggested I get a kitten for Charlie. I thought about it. He suggested I get a harness and try to walk him. I did. He wouldn’t have it. Couldn’t even get the second snap done on the harness. He suggested I take him places with me. I have the carrier so we’ll see. 

The bottom line is he’s fine alone with me but once he enters the rest of the house his face changes. He’s aggravated and almost singularly focused on attacking Buster. It’s sad. I know aggravation. I know what it's like to lock in for a fight. I can make choices and suck it up. Charlie, not so much. I tried wearing him out, distracting him, standing over him in times of confrontation. He can’t be in the house unsupervised. It’s a drag. 

I called the vet and she said the kitten may or may not work. He could lock into attacking both of them. I told her then there’s really only two choices, trying Prozac again or rehousing him. Which is sad. 

I’m going to try a smaller dose of prozac and try to ride out any projections I have about his discomfort or lethargy until he’s had time to adjust. I hope. 

A little curveball was the vet said maybe we should put Buster on Buspirone. I said, ‘I’m on that!’ Apparently in cats it may give him some confidence. Maybe that’s what it’s doing for me. I have to think about that. Which isn’t really that confident. 

We may be one happy little medicated family with the exception of Sam who is too dumb to need medicine. 

As I said, Today I talk to Questlove and Thursday you'll hear my talk with Jim Gaffigan. 

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

Bulls of My Own Making.

Reeling it in, Folks.

Look I know I’ve been a lot the last couple of weeks. It was a lot for me too. I have had enough of myself as well. I’m exhausting, mostly to me. 

It just happens sometimes. Everything is coming in hot and I couldn’t stop any of it from making impact and detonating fires. So be it. 

Eventually I reel it in. Compartmentalize. Assess what is really happening and what is disastrously speculative and try to shut down the shit generator. Success. For today. 

I think the explosion of anxiety and panic is just the way my mind prepares for change or challenges. Once the fires settle down I can parse what needs to be done, break that shit down into steps to be taken and get a handle on it. With the help of a few good friends who understand the dryness of the forest of my mind. 

I imagine most people have some version of that but I yammer about it and I have a lot of different things going on. I have always wanted to be a smoother character, a cowboy of some kind. Maybe I am. I’m half a bull rider and half a rodeo clown. Riding or distracting bulls of my own making. 

I also think I feel better because I had a major breakthrough last week. I’ve been playing guitar for a long time, alone. Over the last few years I’ve started to play with other musicians on stage because it was something I wanted to do all my life. Confidently. But the confidence just never came. I would feel okay about the gigs and the playing and the singing but just not great or relaxed. I would be very hard on myself afterwards and during. I know I have a lane that I can be in as a singer and player. I don’t expect to be a professional but I do play with professional musicians. I am very hard on myself primarily because I want to feel like I do it well, for me. 

As a player and singer I choke on stage all the time. I lose my place, the words, screw up chords, my throat tightens up. It’s annoying. After the gigs, which are supposed to be fun, I generally feel like I don’t really need to do it again. I’m lying to myself. I can’t really play well enough, I’m not a good enough singer and I fucking choke. It’s annoying. 

I let my friend Paige Stark, who I have played and sung with before on a song for the Love LA compilation, talk me into working with some other musicians who she thought would get my vibe, my sound, if you will. It was hard to tell the guys that I played with all the other times that I was going to switch it up but I did. 

So, this new bunch of people including Paige, Luke Paquin, Dan Horn and Jerry Borges and I rehearsed. Like really rehearsed. Before I was just jamming out loose versions of covers that I just wanted to do my way, sloppy and easier. We would rehearse a couple of times a few days before the gig. Basically it was good enough for rock and roll. I just never felt like I was really doing the work. I always had the lyrics on paper in front of me. I knew the guys would carry me and I had fun kinda but I wanted to really rehearse and learn the process of making choices about songs and working them and getting the hours in to nail something well-rehearsed. 

That’s how you get good. 

So, we did that and I think I broke through to some other place. I learned all the words to all the songs we covered. I learned and rehearsed the structures of the songs, honoring originals a bit more than I usually do and it all paid off. I didn’t choke, I didn’t have lyrics in front of me, I didn’t make myself crazy and I had fun and did pretty well all around. 

The real doozy of the night for me though was I decided to cover the Taylor Swift song that had a profound impact on me in terms of sitting in grief. I talk about it in my new special that’s out this Friday, Aug. 1, on HBO. Bigger Than the Whole Sky. We did it like Mazzy Star-ish. It broke me. I made it through to the last verse and then I choked up. I didn’t choke. I choked up. It was pretty raw, very emotional but I felt good about it. There is a reel of it up on Largo at the Coronet’s IG page. 

So, I think that creative success may have helped lighten the load of all the other anxiety I was feeling. And that is the cross to bear of the creative person. You fucking need it to live. 

Today I talk to Ari Aster about his movies. We talk a lot about his new one Eddington which is very provocative and challenging in a great way. Thursday I talk to my Bad Guys co-star Awkwafina about her life and career. 

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

Sometimes There's Ice Cream.

Unrelenting, People.

Anxiety. 

I have a brain full of psychic tendrils. All looking to grab hold of something to worry about. They are all relatively successful at finding stuff. Everyday I have to go through the process of getting each one to let go separately. 

Many of you know that I am trying a medication for the anxiety. I thought it was working but I am not so sure anymore. Not after last week. Jesus. 

I spent a week in New Mexico. Just me and my head. It got pretty daunting. 

I think the anxiety is twofold. I think my brain wants to latch onto things it thinks it has control over, or at least the repetition of images of the worst outcomes makes my brain think it’s ready for anything. The scenarios play out and all the possible outcomes play out. So, it sees them all the way through and settles on an entire arc. The illusion of control. Then the feelings in relation to this fabrication creates another level of anxiety. 

In other words, it’s all fear.

The other element is some poorly parented part of myself wants parents, wants to be comforted, even with bullshit. I think when I am grounded I can do that for myself but if I am untethered all bets are off. ‘It’s going to be okay.’ Or not. Probably not. 

There’s so much out of our control. Almost all of it. I guess it's natural to want to have some control in your life. 

What will you do to try to have some? Well…

I was staying at a house in Albuquerque. My brain was on fire most of the time with different degrees of panic for different made up reasons. The roots of some were real but absolutely nothing was happening in relation to them outside of my head which was working overtime. Just generating exciting possibilities of dread. 

I had a rental car and the house was a real house, not a hotel. I had gone to the supermarket to get some stuff and arrived back at the house. I parked in front, I thought, and got out to bring half the groceries in. I get back out to the car to find the doors locked and the keys inside which is hard to do with a key fob. They’re sort of designed not to do that. The loophole is if you leave the car in drive when you turn it off the car, I guess, thinks you’re still in it. The keys were locked in and there was no way I was going to get them out AND there were two pints of ice cream in the car. Non-dairy. I lost my mind. It was 92 degrees out. I could not accept that the ice cream would just melt and turn to garbage. It never refreezes right. 

A normal human would just take the hit. It’s just ice cream. For me, it became bigger. It was global warming, it was all the powerlessness I felt about everything. Me standing outside that car, fuming. Obviously, the correct grown up thing to do is call AAA which I’ve had for decades but rarely use. This is what it is for. In my fury, I decided that there was no one AAA would send who could get into one of these cars. There was no ridge on top of the lock buttons. Impossible. And do they even use Slim Jims anymore? In my futility I realized I had full coverage on the car and I should just throw a large rock through the window. Save the ice cream. I’d have to go to the car rental company, probably fill out paperwork and get a new car. Dumb idea. I saw no other solution. 

I found a rock behind the house. I stood to the side of the car, wound up, launched the rock in anticipation of shattering and it just bounced off. I guess they’re making tougher windows now. When it hit the ground I realized I was an idiot and this was not the adult way of handling the situation. I went in and called AAA. I was stuck in a prompt process that seemed to go on forever. I needed to talk to a human. I needed to be told it was going to be okay. I went online to get a guy to come help. I couldn’t even tell if it was happening or not. I looked up the car rental assistance procedure. It probably would’ve cost me money and there was no guarantee that I would get assistance in reasonable time. 

I went outside and heaved the rock again. Again it bounced off the window. 

Then a text came on my phone that a AAA truck was coming from Santa Fe in an hour. I had to suck it up and just live with the ice cream melting in the front seat. Man up. 

I went into the house and started roasting some broccoli in the air fryer. Then I got informed the truck was coming in 15 mins. Great. Ice cream probably wouldn’t make it but fine. I still didn’t believe that anyone could get in the car. 

The air fryer started smoking around the time the truck pulled up. The smoke alarm connected to the house was connected to the alarm system. I tried to get the smoke out. I shut off the air fryer and went out to deal with the driver as the alarm blared. He was a native man that looked to be well into his seventies with a bandanna headband, an elder. He had a wobbly wand with a bunch of tape on the end. I asked if he thought he could do it. He said, ‘Probably.’ Fine. I left him to it. 

I went back into the house to call the alarm company and tell them it was just a cooking thing and not to send the fire department. They said the fire department had already been dispatched. Around that time the alarm stopped screaming. I went outside to see the progress the guy with the magic wand was making. I heard the sirens in the distance. I said the fire department was coming. 

I went out into the street to greet the engine with a driver and two fully suited up firemen. I said it was a cooking situation and that I was sorry that they had to slide down the pole and everything. They said it was fine, it was their job. Good guys. They came into the house with a heat sensor and we had a nice chat and they left. 

The elder said he got the car opened. A miracle. I gave him a nice tip and ran the ice cream into the house and put it in the freezer. It still hadn’t melted all the way. 

Later that night I got the ice cream out and plowed into it. It was amazing. Too good. I ate half the pint before I realized it wasn’t non-dairy. I stopped eating it. 

After all was said and done it was quite an exciting day. I had a half pint’s worth of real happiness before returning to panic of what all that dairy would do to my stomach after being plant-based for so long. Turns out, not much. Just a bit of gas, which is enjoyable in its own way. 

It all worked out okay. I have control over nothing but sometimes there’s ice cream. 

Today I talk to Sarah Sherman about how she is who she is, a beautiful weirdo. On Thursday I talk to Jackson Galaxy mostly about cats and some about drugs and music. Great talks. 

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Enjoy!

Love,
Maron

Tricks and Tics.

Overwhelming, Folks.

Some days are good. I guess I should say some days are okay. Ultimately, most days are spotty at best. 

Maybe it’s because I have to consciously leap out of my head into the present many times a day. Sometimes it’s easy because I am talking to someone or I am doing a task that requires my complete attention. If I am not busy and engaged my mind takes up the slack and gets busy and engaged with hypotheticals that are rarely positive. 

Some days are going fine and then out of nowhere the sadness descends and throws everything into question. The heaviness, as Rodney called it. 

Obviously, if you are awake and aware and informed there is a lot coming down on us. Just finding space to function is challenging. Making time to relax or enjoy yourself is compromised by the nag of horror. Which makes any good time a bit exhausting because you realize it’s just a reprieve. You can get angry at that reality and demand to yourself that it is still okay to have fun but the return to life, of the mind or routine, is abrupt. Fun is always kind of fleeting but now the other side of it harrowing.

Doing proactive or service-based endeavors is helpful but the very nature of that implies a futility on some level. 

Hey, maybe it’s just me. I’m doing what I can to treat this anxiety. 

I find it’s helpful to get as obsessed as possible with dumb, mundane things that need repair, or to be replaced or thrown out. Then when any of those is achieved it feels like a life changing, major accomplishment. Fleeting relief. 

My constant struggle with getting the correct prescription for my eyes and glasses that work has been a life long journey. I’m in it again. Then there’s the realization that perfect vision is fleeting and may not be possible. Followed by the realization that the whole vessel that is me is getting old. Then there’s the feeling of why bother. With glasses, exercise, eating well. 

I should just sit and quietly fester while eating something horrible for me but delicious and everything is just slightly blurry. 

‘What are you doing, stupid?’ That’s the inner voice that is the clearest. It can be very useful in maintaining a full life but it can also stop you from doing so. Tricky business. 

All that said, I guess I’m okay. There are big transitions on the horizon for me personally and I’m sure that isn’t helping my mind much but I do have time to prepare for them. The unknown is stressful, but you realize that’s everyday and you just plow on. 

I’m hoping for inspiration and to spend more time with people who inspire me. Whether it be in person or in writing or on film. 

I need to feed my head to make sense of my place in the world. I have to make sure that continues so I don’t become one of the walking dead. An organic bag of tricks and tics, habits and routines, operating in a loop of a fragmented personal history of attempts at peace of mind in the chaos of creativity. 

Uplifting today. I know. 

Today I talk to the inspiring Leanne Morgan about her journey in comedy. Thursday I talk to comedian and writer Jena Friedman. 

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

An Attack of Some Kind.

Aging out, Folks.

It’s happening. It has been happening for a minute. I can’t keep up. More importantly, I don’t care and I don’t want to. 

The amount of energy and time it takes to stay in the game and in front of it in terms of publicity is just daunting and exhausting. I would hate to be starting out now. It’s hard and delicate to not seem desperate. On top of trying to sort out who you are or who you want to be in the public sphere. So much yammering. 

I’ve been accused of ageism by olds because of my comments about rock stars performing well past their prime. It’s not ageism. I just don’t want to see them anymore. I do believe there is something to be said for hanging it up if you aren’t working at the top of your game. I also know that sometimes their game can shift and morph into something that suits their current vibe in life and that’s great. I still might not want to see them. It’s not ageism. It’s heartbreak. It’s my own grappling with mortality. 

The fact is I love the music of some artists that was done when they were vital and electric. It has its own place in my heart and spirit. It is eternal. The artists are not. It’s fine with me that they keep plugging. It’s inspiring to some people. Not to me. It’s just sad somehow. Many of the artists just spend their life hacking themselves into the casket. Some evolve with the years and that’s interesting. I guess my point is, again, I’m not ageist, I’d just rather keep their music alive and magic as it was. Much of it came out as a fury of life and a fuck you to time. I keep it there. 

I’m saying all this because I was so moved by the few clips I saw of Ozzy and Black Sabbath from his farewell concert. It was beautiful. Because Ozzy is one of the best. Despite his age and his illness he was always able to tap into the chaotic magic that made him amazing. Iggy is the same way. I just so respect someone who bows out because they know it’s time. The power of that is overwhelming but it is not sad in the same way as being your own nostalgia act. 

In other news, someone is dropping bags of dog shit behind my hedges in my front yard in the same spot every time. I found three bags there the other day. It’s interesting what my brain does with things like that. I had to process whether or not I thought it was personal, an attack of some kind. A sign. Was someone trying to dog shit me out of the neighborhood? A day after I found the bags, I had a plumber come by and he stepped in a large wad of gum right in front of my gate. I asked him if he thought it was put there intentionally. He said, ‘Maybe.’

I was trying to connect the shit bags and the gum as a planned assault on my home. Then I realized if someone really wanted to make a threatening impact it would probably be less subtle and silly. More likely someone is just in the habit of dropping their shit bags there which is fucked up as well but not deeper than that. 

People have suggested getting a camera out there to catch the shit bag villain but I’m not sure I want to spend time on that project. If I catch them, I’ll say something. Given today’s cultural tone they may double down on their shit-bagging intentions and there may be a feud that ends up with me shitting in my neighbor’s yard. We’ll see. 

I’ve decided that the gum was not connected to the shit. 

Today I talk to actor Alexander Skarsgård about Sweden and acting and stuff. Thursday I talk to comedian Dustin Chafin. An old school comic talk. Also on Thursday, we'll play some of my Full Maron bonus interview with wrestler Darby Allin who just climbed Mount Everest.

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

Less Cautionary and More Enlightening.

Revelations, Folks.

Not biblical, but those abound. That book of the New Testament being one of the older conspiracy theories. It is disconcerting when those events seem to be unfolding. I imagine the Bible is one of the foundational forces in the untethering of the human mind from engaging in the mundane truths of the human condition and current politics. 

Outside of processing all the terrifying excitement of the new, wild American authoritarianism I try to keep grounded in the human component of my current life. That keeps unfolding. 

Obviously, as I get older, that unfolding becomes more finite. The infinite unfolding of post-life is a mystery but I think we can rest assured it is a forever kind of thing. Probably an unconscious vacuum of nothingness, but maybe a little more exciting than that. Doubtful. 

Here on the ground, I was in Albuquerque the last few days. Spending time with Dad and friends I’ve known most of my life. 

I seem to write about this every time I make this trip. I’m not sure each time my observations are that much different.

Surprisingly, my father with dementia has remained somewhat stable in terms of knowing me and being able to engage somewhat. It seems that his past is blurring or melding into one big event. Things are not in context and without a timeline many memories seem a bit mashed together. 

There is a baseline to who he is that is very intact. Easier to examine. A bit disturbing, but revelatory to me every time. A cautionary tale. Though that tale becomes less cautionary and more enlightening because I am old as well. I talk about this somewhat at length in my upcoming special. 

My father is intolerant of a lot of things. Not on principle, but out of what seems to be irritation and pettiness. A kind of ‘fuck all of them’ type of disposition. By all of them I mean pretty much everyone. 

He has no patience for chit chat.
He has no patience for how other people live their lives.
He has no patience for anyone doing their job in relation to him.
Has no patience for what he sees and thinks defines other people’s lives.
He has no patience for religion of any kind. 

He has no patience for almost anything but he does nothing. He says he’s bored all the time. 

He literally has no friends, interests or hobbies. He’s a ‘What’s the point?’ guy. He loves to instigate by saying provocative shit with no real knowledge of what he’s talking about. Just to get a rise out of people. Just to get that attention. 

All these personality attributes are still present and most of them are attention-seeking. This is the fence around his fragile ego. If you call him out on any of it he retreats quickly and gets a kick out of it. 

I have some of these qualities. Many of them I’ve managed to wrangle and choose other paths. 

The ‘What’s the point?’ angle is tricky. 

If you’re looking for things outside yourself to define your life you’ll end up pretty empty, bored and cranky. 

He is impressed with me and appreciates my mind and life and has surrendered, probably because of age and dementia, a lot of the bullshit that used to give us trouble. 

He’s still able to engage and listen and respond and have ideas and repeat them again and again. It’s okay. 

He was able to remember pieces from conversations we had the day before. 

There’s still some part of him that thinks he can give me career advice that has nothing to do with what I do really. It’s pretty broad. 

‘You should start a company.’

All that said, I’m glad I have this time with him when we have it. 

Today I talk to Mariska Hargitay about the amazing revelations in her life which she explores in her new documentary, My Mom Jayne. On Thursday I talk to record remastering wizard Chad Kassem. 

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

The America We Are Becoming.

This is it, People.

It’s finally here. American Authoritarianism with a fully functioning fascist cultural apparatus. 

We did it. It took us about 250 years but, we did it. 

I’m not sure which was more horrendous and damning, the deployment of troops to LA or the bombing of Iran, but they are of a kind. Orders of a leader who cares nothing for the people of the country and is autocratically creating a government that serves only his whims and power. This is at the cost of democracy and feeds the fire of inhumanity for his myopic, brutal and dangerous followers. 

We get to live in real fear all the time now. Not made up or generated internally but actual terror of our government and our fellow Americans. 

Sorry, don’t want to be grim but…

The unconstitutional attack of Iran and LA will put in place the machinery to make this a military dictatorship. 

I hope all those people that voted for this passively and based in emotions are happy and proud of the America we are becoming, where pain feeds their excitement and corruption and moral bankruptcy become their proud, day-to-day way of moving through the world. 

I hope all the ‘anti-woke’ comics are happy about pushing this all through. The big question is when will they shut up about trans people, intellectually challenged people, immigrants, the disabled and minorities. I mean, they won. The policies they were supporting (whether they knew it or not) are happening. All the language and law that protected the vulnerable and marginalized and gave them a leg up have been destroyed. History is being erased and rewritten to support Christian Nationalism. Creativity, tolerance and the path to equality squashed. 

I hope it was all worth it so you can say the R-word again. I hope you are proud that all the policies you were championing are happening. I hope you can now stop playing the victim and just enjoy the amazing lack of diversity and diminishment of human rights and collective fear you have supported, because it’s here. 

I assume you will just keep at it. It’s one thing to mock the weak and another thing to celebrate their pain and deaths. I assume you have nothing else. Now that what made you has become hack you can just go back to the standard hack model. 

On another note, I watched a final cut of the film In Memoriam in which I play the lead. I did good. I’m okay with it. It’s a very emotionally charged movie, very human. I guess many of the projects I’m involved with coming out this year are like that. I think I’m ok with that. The simplicity of human emotions and struggle. Stick may not be art but it might be what we need. I’m not big on talking about ‘storytelling’ but I’m not sure there is another way to get back to what makes us human. The good parts of it, anyway. 

I don’t think people sit with each other and just be in the struggle that we all share, in all its nuance and variation. 

So, storytelling in the form of film or television or theater that is crafted to explore the struggle in a relatively honest way is necessary now. 

Today I talk to Jordan Klepper about the MAGA youth and many other things. On Thursday I talk to comedian Rich Aronovitch about sobriety and the insanity of being who were are. Great talks!

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

A Life Sentence.

New York City, People!

I’m flying back from NYC right now. Outside of a few minor bumps it was a great trip. 

I have to be honest, I love doing Jimmy Fallon’s show. Being a panel guest was such an important part of my life for so long when I was coming up and I hardly do it anymore. I’m not talking about guesting on a podcast. I’m talking about being a guest on The Tonight Show. I know it doesn’t mean what it used to and the media landscape is a scattered shit show but the context is still what it is and I think Jimmy is a good host. He’s a good audience. He’s in it. It was fun. 

It was like the old days but I am older and many fewer fucks are given. Probably almost all the fucks. Easier to enjoy it. 

The screening of the documentary about me ‘Are We Good?’ went well. It was the second time I’ve seen it in front of an audience. It went over great. Which means, to me, it got laughs in the funny places and feels in the feely places. I want to thank everyone who came out. 

Tracy Letts moderated a conversation with me and Steve Feinartz, the director. That was amazing. Talking to Tracy in any situation is amazing. He had a totally unique point of view about what the film was about. The assumption, and it wouldn’t be a wrong one, is that it’s about processing grief. Me processing grief, which includes doing comedy about it. 

Tracy thought the film was about work. The work. Of an artist. 

I rarely call myself that or see myself that way. I guess I know I am one but it seems to be pretentious to call myself one. I’ve always felt that. I’d rather just go with comic. 

But looking at the doc as a film about work was helpful to me in reframing my life. My work is how I process everything. Whether it’s on the podcast or on the stage. My life, certainly up to this point, has been about processing it through my work. The work is kind of my life to the point that I don’t live a full life. There are other reasons for that but those are also what I process in the work. I put it all out there. 

It’s like the reality of my life is a panicky farce and the work gives it definition and attempts to make it relatable as I work it out. Make it real. Put it out there. 

Is that, or has that been, a full life? It is a life full of something but all this sharing of it is a bit depleting. Because the sharing of it is the work and the work leaves me chronically exposed and then I have to incorporate that into how I live. It starts eating itself and stagnates the life I’m living and I’m running out of time. 

So, the only choice I have after 61 years is to accept what I have called a life and try to live it differently if that will bring me some peace. 

Ease up on the panic, the compulsivity, the urgency, the anger. Find some space and be who I am now and see where that takes me creatively. I have no idea how to create outside myself. I am the center and project of the creation. I have to find another place to come from or at least a way that is not directly attached to my mind constantly reflecting on itself. 

I’m not sure I’m even making sense but some new vision has been opened by looking at the film the way Tracy saw it. There’s a bit of sadness to it. Being self-condemned to the creative work. And that’s a life sentence it seems. 

I’d say the highpoint of the trip was going to the Museum of Natural History in NYC with Kit. She had never been there. I hadn’t been there since I was a kid. When we decided to go I just couldn’t wait to see that Blue Whale. That feeling of walking into that room with that giant model does not disappoint. It was just as exciting as it ever was. Looking into that Squid and Whale diorama and feeling that same haunted vibe that I did as a kid and realizing why it's never left. Finding myself lit up by all the dinosaur bones and realizing that I am, and always have been, a Triceratops guy.

Good trip. 

Today I talk to Cristin Milioti, a truly great actress. On Thursday I talk to the very singular and funny Megan Stalter. Great talks. 

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

Ride That Mystical Bus.

Mystical, People.

Again, I must say that I am humbled by all the emails and DMs of appreciation and personal stories about the show’s impact on your lives. It all means so much to me as I try to wrap my head around what I have done in the last 16 years. 

I am grateful. I have to tell myself that often. It is not a feeling I sit in naturally. I rarely acknowledge it. I should. It is grounding and enables me to maybe appreciate the life I’ve lived and survived. 

I tend to blow right through things. Just keep moving. Doing what’s in front of me. Staying engaged in whatever it is no matter how mundane. I put a lot of pressure on myself always with all things. All in, all the time. Just moving from thing to thing. In the world, or in my head. No downtime. No pause. Limited gratitude. I do feel the buzz of completing things and getting through them and enjoy the release of the cortisol and rush of achievement but I don’t really settle, live life. Appreciate it. Be grateful.

My brain tends to go to anger a bit. Which I haven’t really experienced in a while. I’m not sure there is such a thing as angry gratitude. I think that’s conflating the last step of moving toward humility with the goal of it. Just to be grateful.

I think of my life, what got me here, all the people that misunderstood me or made it difficult for me to succeed, didn’t believe in me. From where I am now, there’s still a bit of ‘fuck them’ in my gratitude. A sense of winning. Then I realize that I was never really competing, I just wanted to be in the game. Actually, preferably, on a field adjacent to the main field. 

The winning was just me arriving at me and working from that place and somehow succeeding. It doesn’t have to be rooted in any kind of fuck you but that comes and goes. I guess that’s just human.

The mystical. I recently went on Andy Richter’s podcast and he got me talking about back in the day. The Comedy Store, cocaine, Kinison. It has been a while since I traversed those neural pathways and I guess with the portal opened I went a little out there. 

I had some kind of revelation that is only relative to my mind at that time. Many of you know the story. I documented my journey into cocaine psychosis thoroughly in my book The Jerusalem Syndrome. 

When I was at The Comedy Store losing my mind I was one with the place. I was all in. I lived there. I was a true believer in the power of the place and the system Mitzi Shore had created. I always felt there was a dark energy there that went back to the beginning of modern show business. My mind was generating its own mythos about good and evil and the place that Mitzi, with all her mystical powers, was overseeing. I believed that the beginning of the apocalypse would start in Hollywood. I had full concepts of how. I believed I was in a struggle between good and evil that was universal and my time spent there with Kinison, a true power of megalomaniacal darkness, was informing my prophecy in progress. All I knew, in my psychotic state, was that Mitzi, The Comedy Store, and some of the comics that came out of there were essential in the final unfolding. Crazy, right? But…

The two people that revolutionized the podcast medium and unleashed its potential on the world were me and Rogan. Both of us of products of The Comedy Store and Mitzi’s system. 

Do with that what you will. It was fun to ride that mystical bus for a few hours. 

Today I talk to Seth Meyers. Great guy, great talk. On Thursday I talk to Mike Birbiglia again. Also a great talk. 

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live,

Love,
Maron

Big News.

The time has come, People!

All good things must come to an end. The end is nigh for most things, generally speaking, but more specifically, the end of the WTF podcast is coming in the fall. 

I know it will be jarring for many of you. It’s a bit difficult for me. It is time though. 

Brendan and I had an understanding that the only reason we would stop the show was if one of us was ready to stop. So, that happened, for both of us. 

We’re tired, people. Burnt out. 

As of September we will have been doing the show for 16 years. Wow. That’s a long time to do anything. We have put a new show out twice a week for 16 years and we’ve put everything we have into those shows. That’s just the way we work. We have since the beginning and it’s always been just us. Obviously, we had help along the way, but in terms of creating the show Brendan does his job, I do mine. No networks, no boss. Just us and hundreds of guests and you. 

I know you might think, ‘How hard can it be to record a conversation?’ But reflect on why you listen. There’s a lot that goes into each show that makes it great. We are workaholics and meticulous about the quality of the show. Editing, music, engagement, remaining all in and interested. 

Both of us are tired. We’ve done great work. There’s absolutely no reason to just keep plugging along because we can. It’s okay for things to end. We’ve been very fortunate to do things exactly how we wanted to do them, all on our terms. We started the show on our terms and we are ending the show on our terms. 

My gratitude for all of you listeners is big. We’ve been through a lot together. I hear from so many of you that I helped you through hard times, cultural changes, sobriety, depression, fear. Some of you have grown up listening to me by now. Some of you started listening because your parents listened in the car. Some of you just started listening. The good news for newbies is there’s plenty to catch up on. 

I want you all to know that I appreciate deeply that you were all there for me as well. You changed my life in so many ways. You helped me through so much.

WTF was there at the beginning of the podcast invasion. We weren’t the first, but in terms of making it a viable medium we were certainly one of the OGs. We changed the world, literally. We showed the world that it was possible to create a specific type of show on one’s own terms. We helped unleash an exciting type of delivery system for pure self expression. Sadly, on some level, we also unleashed a format that can be used for dubious means, propaganda and pure evil. But hey, it’s not the atomic bomb.

I’ll be around. I’m looking forward to these fun and full months of final shows. I’ll be doing my standup, acting and hopefully enjoying life a bit. I’ve earned that. 

So, that’s the big news. I’m sure we’ll talk about it in the weeks to come but for now, thank you all for being here. 

Today I talk to John Mulaney. He’ll be the first guest to know. On Thursday I talk to Josh Homme again. Heavy dude. Great talks. 

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live! 

Love,
Maron

A Mild Humming.

Genius, Folks.

It's been a couple weeks since I shot my special. It didn’t take long for me to get back up on stage. It was literally a few days. It’s what I do. It’s kind of like eating or working out. I go up on stage. 

Some part of me thinks I should give it a rest. Turn down the burners. Take life in. Settle into my brain. Assess. 

The medication I’ve been on seems to be working subtly. I believe there is a baseline of anxiety that percolates beneath the frequency of my brain just moving through life. It’s own vibration. It’s always been there. If I notice anything about the effect of the medicine it's that the baseline seems to be a mild humming as opposed to crackling ember. 

It’s a relief. A subtle relief. It seems to be winding down the fear engine. 

I’m trying to let new things into my head. I’m watching a lot of stuff on the television. I don’t do YouTube. I’m old school. I mean, streamers are television, right?

I’m very reluctant to be too celebratory of other people’s work who are in the same business as me sometimes. I think it's primarily because I am a somewhat insecure, resentful, envious person. Some of that has faded with age and I believe some of it is maintained by the anxiety engine which is muted by medicine. 

That said, I can’t seem to shut up about the new season of Nathan Fielder’s ‘The Rehearsal.’ I’ve always been a bit judgmental of him. He annoys me. Also, he doesn’t ever come on the show. I don’t love a lot of the stuff he’s produced but not because it’s bad, I just never quite locked in with it. Until the last episode of ‘The Curse.’ Which kind of blew my mind and I realized that he was possessed with some kind of alien creativity that comes from a unique, rare mixture of commitment to personal vision and true weird inspiration. 

I had watched the first season of ‘The Rehearsal’ which I thought was totally unique and wild. It didn’t stay with me. This new season is sticking in my brain both for the conceit of the show, the theme of the season, but mostly because of the pure comedy of the tension it creates on so many levels. I’m not sure I can explain it without writing some kind of thesis paper but I believe it is a true work of comedic genius. Which is very, very rare. 

On a similar note, I saw 'Friendship.’ Tim Robinson is another truly inspired comedic force. I think I was expecting it to be so funny. Like beyond funny. People were talking about it like it was the funniest thing ever. The Buffoon that Tim has created and inhabits is incredibly hilarious. The movie was funny enough. I think his genius is in the sketches on ‘I Think You Should Leave.’ Where it’s all about him and the way the world has to reckon with him. The movie worked pretty well. I just wanted more funny. 

I guess this is my movie and TV review update. 

Today I talk to Nick Kroll again. He’s truly one of the funniest people I know. On Thursday screenwriter Scott Frank and I talk movies and TV and his new series ‘Department Q.’ Great talks. 

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

Into the Hands of the Machine.

It’s a rollercoaster, folks.

I don’t do rides. Never really have. 

Over the weekend I was shooting some promos for Bad Guys 2 with the rest of the cast. We were doing them on the Universal lot which is adjacent to the theme park. At some point, Sam Rockwell got it in his head that he wanted to go on the Mummy ride. They couldn’t pull it together for us on Saturday but on Sunday they made it happen. 

When he asked if I wanted to go I was like, ‘Hell, yeah! Let’s do it!’

I’m not sure who that guy was. He was a me that loves rollercoasters I guess. 

I really thought in that moment it would be fun. It would explode me into the present with speed and menace and a bit of terror. 

I was never a rollercoaster person or a ride person at all. Years ago, I was married to a woman that loved them. So, I went on some very daunting roller coasters. Somehow the fact that I had done that in my past evolved into me believing that I actually liked them. I don’t necessarily dislike them, but I don’t like them. I had forgotten that any time I’ve been on one it was just something I felt I needed to get through. The ‘fun’ part of it eluded me. There is a relief of getting through it but that’s anything in life. 

I realize that the reason I don’t like amusement park rides is because I’m on a fairly terrifying ride everyday. On an average day, I go up and down many, many times. I get jerked around constantly. The bottom falls out and I free fall a couple of times a day. I wonder when it’s going to be over the entire time I’m on it. It’s just that all these feelings are coming from inside the head. 

So, to actually be on a ride stops my internal ride for a minute or two. Except the part of me that is wondering if I should be gripping harder or relaxing to avoid a neck issue. Which is also a big life question. Do I hold on harder or let go?

Now that I write that, the act of climbing into the car of a rollercoaster is letting go of your patterns and putting your life into the hands of the machine. 

Me and Sam and Natasha Lyonne got on the ride. 

As it turns out, when I let go I get pretty queasy. 

Pretty big life lessons all around.

It was fun enough. Natasha Lyonne thought we should do it everyday. Which I think, even with how it felt, would probably be a good idea. Like an alternative to a cold plunge. Just another thing to get addicted to. Like all addictions once you get past the feeling sick part you really grow to like it and need it. 

Today I talk to Sarah Silverman about her new Netflix special, PostMortem. On Thursday I talk to The J. Geils Band frontman Peter Wolf about all the amazing people he’s come in contact with in his life and a bit about the band. Good talks. 

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

Was It a Dream?

It’s done, People.

I did it.

For those of you following along, I taped my HBO Special on Saturday. 

I am exhausted and truly drained. It’s not a great feeling. It is a great feeling to have done the work and the shows. 

I worked for over two years getting this set together. I was working on it right up until I did the two tapings and even in-between the shows. That’s just how I do it. 

I think the shows went very well. I almost don’t remember them. I know it just happened two days ago but when you shoot a special it's almost like going to another planet. The experience is so heightened. It’s not a regular show. It’s also the realization of the work of many people. 

The BAM Harvey is a stunning venue. It’s very old and they let it be old. It’s not restored, it’s preserved in its natural decayed state. It has a beautiful deep vibe. My production designer Mark Janowitz is a genius who came up with a concept that is inspired by kintsugi. It’s the ancient art of mending broken pottery with lacquer and gold. My director Steve Feinartz shot with nine cameras. The entire set and theater looked amazing. We leaned into all the structural elements of the place to create a stunning look. 

I wrote an original rock riff to open and close the show that I recorded with some amazing musicians. Everything was perfect. 

When it came time for the show it was all on me to deliver. I did.

It is a different experience than just doing a show. I was almost out of my body. I wanted the set to come in around seventy minutes. Down from an hour and forty a few weeks ago. I wanted to get my sequence right. The first 15 minutes or so are loaded with separate pieces that all have to work together. I was totally deep-focused on this set last week. Nothing else really mattered other than worrying about whether Charlie would shit all over the house. 

The first set went great. I was a bit amped and moving kind of quickly but most of it worked great. I came in at exactly seventy minutes. The second set I was more relaxed and loose and the energy was perfect. I think. Seventy minutes again. I really can't remember the experience other than being immersed in it. 

I changed some stuff between shows. Took notes from Brendan and my friend Sam who were there for both.

It all seems to go by so quickly after working so long leading up to it. It’s like a dream.

As I walked out of the theater about forty five minutes after I finished they had already broken down most of the set. Was it a dream?

I felt depleted and empty and sad. That’s not exactly how you want to feel but it’s normal after a big show or shows that you have been working towards forever. Every special I do I’ve worked my whole life to do. I am proud of the material. There’s a lot of it. Some of it is challenging. I felt a bit exposed after. Which is weird, but maybe not. 

I’m proud of the work. The audiences were great. The theater was great. There is some part of me that never wants to see what I did. I just hope it comes together well. 

Wait, I do want to see it. Badly. 

One of the best parts of my trip is Charlie didn’t shit all over my house. 

Today I have an amazing talk with Bridget Everett who I get a real kick out of. On Thursday I talk to Carol Leifer again. Great talks. 

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

Reasonable Concerns.

Hey, Folks.

I was doing fine. Really. 

Then I boarded a plane in Toronto to Burlington and realized I left my computer at TSA in Toronto. 

Now I’m not fine. Not at all. Now I’m beating the shit out of myself for having my head up my ass. That’s an important part of my journey to fleeting acceptance. I can always revisit it for all my dumb actions. 

I’m writing this on my phone. This is not good for my brain. 

Too much traveling. Spaced. 

Aside from that, which with my brain is an unfolding disaster all the time, I’m doing okay. Wiped out. The special set is feeling good though. 

The two shows in Toronto were great. It’s kind of amazing that our horrible monster of a president brought that country together to vote against him and elect a liberal when it was really tight before he broke the world. 

I told them that now I kind of want them to be the 51st state. We could use the votes in ‘26 and ‘28. Canada has to be good for quite a few electoral votes. They laughed. 

It’s amazing what I go through mentally heading into these big events in my life. Instead of just experiencing justified nervousness or, god forbid, excitement about what I have to do, I totally freak out about everything else in my life and worry about the worst happening. 

It’s a constant. All my life. 

I mean, I worry about the special but not about the material. That’s tight. I worry about my: hair, glasses, shirt, shoes, how they’ll look, my weight, whether I’ll get sick, lose my voice, whether the audiences won’t be good, the cameras, etc. 

I guess those are reasonable concerns. Why can’t I just decide and stick by my decisions?

Some part of me wants to destabilize myself completely for the show. It’s fucking nuts. 

Now, add in: the computer, whether my cats are okay, whether they’ll beat the shit out of each other and shit all over the house, whether I have cancer, whether my house is ok, etc. 

Never stops. My present is filled with panic and dread in my head as I try to pass as a person who has most of his shit together. It’s exhausting. 

Something has to give. I don’t have as many years ahead of me as I do behind me obviously. I’ve worked hard. I have to find some peace. 

And a new computer. 

Today I talk to Tom Green about where he is in his life now. Thursday I talk to Choctaw Nation singer songwriter Samantha Crain about her work and life. Great talks!

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love, 
Maron