Real Authentic.

Another week, Folks!
 
How are you all? Today my cat LaFonda decided to throw up all over my bed. Exciting. She’s okay. It’s a cat thing. 
 
There are a couple of things I should tell you about. First, the film that I made with Lynn Shelton, Sword of Trust, will be the opening night, big deal event at the Seattle International Film Festival. I will be there. I’m excited. I get to wear one of my two suits that I bought. I just have to decide which one. The nice one or the really nice one. I think if you pay attention to my press you will start to see that I wear the same shit over and over again. Sometimes I let a few years go by but if you ever ask yourself when you see a picture of me or see me on TV, “Is that the same shirt (or suit or jacket or pants) that he wore on that other thing?” The answer is yes. Of course it is. 

I’ve often asked myself how other performers (men) always look so amazing in their clothes and always wear something different and fresh (I used italics) looking. They must own hundreds of suits and cool shit. Nope. They have stylists! I don’t know why I didn’t assume that. Naïve. I know the women do. I’m on a show with a bunch of women and if they do an event, famous designers just lend them their best stuff and a stylist helps them pick it out and they always look amazing. I don’t know why I never assumed dudes do this. 
 
When I was in NYC I was getting back to my hotel and it was late and as I was getting my key a man and a woman wheeled in a rolling cart with a stack of shoe boxes on it and several garment bags. The guy told the women at the desk he was going up to Jason Mantzoukis’ room. I thought, ‘I know Jason.’ I was at the elevator with the two of them and the cart and I asked him what’s going on. He said the John Wick premiere was tomorrow. Then I realized the guy was a stylist and Mantzoukis was getting hooked up.
 
When I got to my room I immediately texted Jason, ‘I hope you can find a dress you like.’ Because I’m an asshole. I also thought, ‘If he can do it, so can I. I’m not in the John Wick movie but I do things sometimes.' Then I realized I would have to try everything on. It wouldn’t feel like my stuff. I’d probably think it looked funny on camera which has been my experience when I wear shit that isn’t mine. So, it’s not going to happen. I’ll stick to my two suits, four shirts, three pairs of jeans and 3 jackets. Keep it real. Authentic. Lazy. 
 
The other thing I wanted to tell you is the new season of Joe Swanberg’s Easy is up on Netflix. It’s the third and last season and I’m in episode six. It’s called ‘Blank Pages’ and it’s really one of the best things I’ve done in my short career as an actor. It’s an improvised show and I’m working with Jane Adams (genius) and Melanie Lynskey (another genius). The subject matter is powerful and relevant. I’m very proud of it and I’d like you to watch it. 
 
Today I talk to Anjelica Huston about being Anjelica Huston. I was nervous. She’s Anjelica Huston. On Thursday I try to talk to Kyle Mooney. He wasn’t easy but I like his work on SNL. He’s an odd fella. Very funny. Good talks!

Enjoy!

Boomer lives!

Love,

Maron

The Big Question.

Flying, People!
 
I’m in the air. Flying into NYC to do some talks. I’m not going to be lecturing. I’m going to be talking to some people. 
 
I was supposed to be doing a GLOW screening event and that got moved or cancelled or something but I kept the trip. Figured I’d line up a few interviews and wander around NYC in the rain apparently. It’s always raining when I’m there. I don’t know if it will be but my phone told it probably will be. 
 
It’s strange. As our government seems to be progressing towards irreparable corruption into a different, single party, authoritarian system I feel it to be even more pressing to get my own shit straight so I can see clearly who I am and what is really happening. So I can work from there with more understanding. Obviously, I have a good deal of my shit relatively straight but as I have been talking about on the show there are a few obstacles that I need to clear. It’s about personal truth. All this talk about authenticity, wholeheartedness, mindfulness is all well and good but… when it comes right down to it, ‘you are who you are.’ What the fuck is that? That’s the big question. Who are you who wanders around and talks to the people? Is it totally selfish? Is it helpful? Is it being of service? Is it righteous? Is it garbage? Is it a waste of time? Is it just more distracting fodder? Is it amazing? Is it awful? Do you love it? Is it fucking true to yourself, really? These probably could all be answered with a yes at one point or another. 
 
It’s weird when you get a certain amount of clarity to see that in some ways you may be living alongside of yourself. It’s almost dissociative. When, all of a sudden, you see that you’ve been holding yourself back out of habit, fear. That needs to stop. I don’t look back on my life with regrets, but I do look back and think, ‘Wow, why couldn’t I be okay with who I was, ever?’ That’s a little painful. I am almost okay with myself. I’m not sure how that will manifest if I ever get there but maybe we’ll see. 
 
I have a very distinct love/hate relationship with almost everything in my life. 
 
I started logging my food again. So, that’s good. 
 
Great shows this week. Today I talk to a lifer. The actor Dennis Quaid is always good. I feel like I’ve known him my whole life from seeing him in stuff. I was happy to hang out with him for an hour or so. On Thursday I do a rare two guester with Anna Konkle and Maya Erskine. I really loved their show PEN15 and it was great hearing about their relationship and their stories and how the show came about. 

Enjoy!

Boomer lives!

Love,

Maron

Rationalizing.

Nuts, People!
 
Too many nuts. Cashew nuts. Too many. I ran out and I’m afraid to get more. I’m hoping maybe the world ran out. Unlikely. Getting doughy from the nuts. Healthy doughy. Nut doughy. 
 
Feeling a little better emotionally, mentally. Taking some action. I don’t love taking action but understanding is not doing. I get what’s up. After years of trying to get a context to understand why I am the way I am, I have one. Great. I built the box. Now, how the fuck do I get out?

I went to see a new therapist. When I say new that doesn’t mean I have been going to one. I have one I went to. But again, understanding is not doing. And knowing doesn’t mean anything. Repetition of what you know about yourself and doing things over and over again doesn’t help too much. Actually, it is the opposite of help. Sometimes I think therapy means you pay someone so you can rationalize your problems aloud. They make suggestions. You take them. Maybe try them, probably not. Come back the following week and re-rationalize. 

 Sadly, the things that make us sick of ourselves are sometimes all we know. 
 
So, this new therapist doesn’t want to talk. She wants to do EMDR therapy. Now, I’m stubborn and I don’t love too many new things and I generally don’t do things that many people have told me might make me feel better, i.e. meditate, mostly. I tried EMDR once. I like the idea of it even though I have no idea how it works and it seems kind of bullshitty. Though people I trust say it works. You hold a couple of doohickeys in your hand that alternate a vibration that somehow distracts part of your brain so you can tap right into the amygdala and rework some connection between actual trauma memories and the way it is affecting your behavior and thought patterns today. Sounds like a hokey racket but again, it has been proven to work with PTSD, which apparently we all have if you had at least one crappy parent on some level. 
 
I’ll let you know how it goes. Maybe you’ll just hear it. Hope it works and I can feel it. 
 
Today I talk to the legendary Jane Fonda. She been a star longer than I’ve been alive. I went back and watched a few of her old movies and realized that I didn’t remember or really absorb what an amazing actress she is. Go watch Klute. Astounding. Just right there in the pocket. So good. And Coming Home. Again, amazing. Hell, she’s just great. It was honor to talk to her. On Thursday I talk to the producer Irwin Winkler. Another legend. Fifty years in the game. Produced some to the best movies of all time. Great talks.
 
Enjoy!

Boomer lives!

Love,

Maron

Three Grades of Fatty Tuna.

Hi, People! 
 
San Diego was much better than I expected. 
 
I’m not sure why I had an aversion to San Diego but I was wrong. I don’t know if it’s a great place or what is really going on there. I know people seem to go there to party. The streets were filled with people wandering around in shorts and different types of beach party/nightclub outfits. Some carrying drinks. I was downtown though.  I have no point of reference for the big picture. I do know that the crowds were great and The American Comedy Club is a sweet little venue. It’s a real comedy club. Basement-style. There’s something about low ceilings and a subterranean environment that make for a good laugh hole. 
 
I didn’t have a great attitude going in. I had done a bunch of big venues lately and as much as I love doing clubs, the five-show haul in a beach city had me dreading it a bit (even through all the shows were sold out). I assume that people who live in beach areas live there because they’re laid back and enjoy life. My other assumption was that I wasn’t going to sell many tickets because after a nice day by the water people would think, ‘Do we really want to do that to ourselves? I love Maron but today was so relaxing.’ On top of my skewed negative expectations, it took me five hours to make the 120 odd mile drive on HIGHWAYS. Why? Because Southern California sucks. I’m a traffic baby. I can’t stand it. 
 
Needless to say, with the lingering jet lag from my Europe trip and the fact that I was running on three hours of sleep and I had just spent five hours in traffic (on a road that would’ve been fine if I was MOVING) I was a bit loopy and cranky. I felt hungover, beat up. Like I did back in the drug days on the third day of a three-day run. Then, something magical happened. 
 
My fans came out and that room just had the amazing comedy club electricity that comes when people are scrunched together in a small basement comedy room. The sets were sizzling. There’s was riffing and big bits and crowd work and weirdness. Sometimes I forget that I am and always have been a club comic and I know how to do that shit. 
 
I would definitely go back to San Diego. I really don’t have any sense of the city but I had great shows and some of the best sushi in my life. Seriously. In my life. At a place called Azuki Sushi Café. I mean, I would go back just for that fish. Three grades of fatty tuna. Are you fucking kidding me? It might be worth the mercury poisoning. It’s all about moderation.
 
I was thrilled to speak with Brené Brown. If you don’t know here from her TED talks or her books you can watch and read those but she has a Netflix special out now as well. I needed to talk to her. I’m having a bit of a rough time in the emotions department. You can listen to that today. On Thursday I have one the funniest talks I’ve done in a long time with comedian/actor Brian Callen. We go back but I didn’t know him that well. Good time. Great talks. 
 

Enjoy!

Boomer lives!

Love,

Maron

Three Grades of Fatty Tuna.

Hi, People!

San Diego was much better than I expected.

I’m not sure why I had an aversion to San Diego but I was wrong. I don’t know if it’s a great place or what is really going on there. I know people seem to go there to party. The streets were filled with people wandering around in shorts and different types of beach party/nightclub outfits. Some carrying drinks. I was downtown though.  I have no point of reference for the big picture. I do know that the crowds were great and The American Comedy Club is a sweet little venue. It’s a real comedy club. Basement-style. There’s something about low ceilings and a subterranean environment that make for a good laugh hole.

I didn’t have a great attitude going in. I had done a bunch of big venues lately and as much as I love doing clubs, the five-show haul in a beach city had me dreading it a bit (even through all the shows were sold out). I assume that people who live in beach areas live there because they’re laid back and enjoy life. My other assumption was that I wasn’t going to sell many tickets because after a nice day by the water people would think, ‘Do we really want to do that to ourselves? I love Maron but today was so relaxing.’ On top of my skewed negative expectations, it took me five hours to make the 120 odd mile drive on HIGHWAYS. Why? Because Southern California sucks. I’m a traffic baby. I can’t stand it.

Needless to say, with the lingering jet lag from my Europe trip and the fact that I was running on three hours of sleep and I had just spent five hours in traffic (on a road that would’ve been fine if I was MOVING) I was a bit loopy and cranky. I felt hungover, beat up. Like I did back in the drug days on the third day of a three-day run. Then, something magical happened.

My fans came out and that room just had the amazing comedy club electricity that comes when people are scrunched together in a small basement comedy room. The sets were sizzling. There’s was riffing and big bits and crowd work and weirdness. Sometimes I forget that I am and always have been a club comic and I know how to do that shit.

I would definitely go back to San Diego. I really don’t have any sense of the city but I had great shows and some of the best sushi in my life. Seriously. In my life. At a place called Azuki Sushi Café. I mean, I would go back just for that fish. Three grades of fatty tuna. Are you fucking kidding me? It might be worth the mercury poisoning. It’s all about moderation. 

I was thrilled to speak with Brené Brown. If you don’t know here from her TED talks or her books you can watch and read those but she has a Netflix special out now as well. I needed to talk to her. I’m having a bit of a rough time in the emotions department. You can listen to that today. On Thursday I have one the funniest talks I’ve done in a long time with comedian/actor Brian Callen. We go back but I didn’t know him that well. Good time. Great talks. 

Enjoy!

Boomer lives!

Love,

Maron

Old Friends.

I’m back, Folks.

I don’t feel that jet lagged but I don’t know. Part of me thinks I’m sleeping right now. Like, when I’m writing this. I may be. Reality has become tenuous and my perception is all I know and I may be asleep right now. Jet lagged. 

 I have to say I still love Ireland more than almost anywhere on the planet and I don’t have any Irish in me, sadly. As much as I had hoped for some. And you would think a person like me, whether I show it or not, who is a bit needy wouldn’t love the Irish people as much as I do. The last thing the Irish are going to do is heap any unwarranted praise on anyone. Or much praise at all. I know I’m generalizing but it is the vibe I get. They’ll effortlessly take you down a notch without you even feeling it at first. It’s a beautiful skill. If I’m honest, that is what I do to myself inside all the time. So, it makes sense. I feel the Irish understand me in a very personal way because they are like my inner voice. 
 
Here’s a very short play I wrote based on a real experience I had in Ireland when I arrived and stepped up to the customs agent and handed him my passport:
 
      (I had him my passport)
Customs Agent: What are you doing in Ireland? 
Me: I’m doing a stand-up show at Vicar Street. 
      (he’s looking at my passport) 
Customs Agent: I’ve never heard of ya. 
Me: That’s fine. 
      (he stamps my passport)
 
I think I’m going to write more plays. 
 
I was in Dublin for a few days and just by coincidence my old friend Jim Loftus was there as well. Jim is one of my best friends and we just don’t see each other that much. It’s important to see old friends. Especially the ones that really know you and get you. There’s nothing better as an old man now to hang out with a friend you’ve known for almost forty years and when you do you just pick right up where you left off. No weirdness. No distance. Sometimes it takes a few minutes to get back into that old groove but it comes if you give it some time. I suggest allotting a few hours, at least three, and at least one meal to really get back to it and do the deep friend work. We rented a car a drove to Glendalough about an hour outside of Dublin. Old cemetery, old church, a bog, sheep, mountains and grass. Stunning. We walked and talked and ate at an old Irish restaurant and got it all covered. Had some laughs, moved through some time. Beautiful. 
 
I really don’t know where the Irish would be if their country wasn’t so fucking beautiful to counterbalance their generally slightly dark but passionate disposition. 
 
The food in Dublin is just so fucking good. I had some of the best meals of my life there. No shit. There’s something about the produce, fish and meat there that is transcendent. The bread, damn. So good. Oh, and the butter. Crazy. The places I went were just amazing: The Winding Stair, The Pig’s Ear and Ely’s Wine Café. Great. The Wicklow Heather Restaurant up near Glendalough was pretty great too. Food is good. 
 
Thanks to all the folks that came out Vicar Street for the show. It was a great one for me. 
 
Today I talk to actress Christina Hendricks about her journey through Mad Men and her new show Good Girls. On Thursday I talk to Mark Arm from the band Mudhoney about rock life and the Seattle thing. Good talks!
 

Enjoy!

Boomer lives!

Love,

Maron

Things I've Done.

Good day, Folks!

Still in London. On to Dublin on Tuesday for a show Thursday. It’s been great, really.

Despite my own brain and fighting old feelings and the residue of old fears, this trip over the pond has been great. Here are some things I’ve done.

Manchester:

Ate in the basement of a Buddhist center. Being served by seemingly sad people who have found some peace was an oddly emotional moment.

Got a tentative shave by a barber who I think needed the practice shaving. Not a great experience but I was happy he was proud of himself when he didn’t hurt me.

Did an odd interview on a BBC radio show. Unnecessarily contentious because the ‘interviewer’ had something to prove to another ‘interviewer' (me).

Did a not so weird interview on a BBC Morning TV show. Though one of the hosts made an ‘uh oh’ face when I called Trump a monster. He is a monster.

Did an almost two hour long set in a packed sweet-sounding theater. A lot of riffing. Great crowd.

London:

Did more BBC radio. A show called ‘Loose Ends’ which was like a roundtable and one of the other guests was Mavis Staple. MAVIS STAPLES. Talking about singing for Dr. King and being proposed to by Bob Dylan. Such an honor meeting her. Some days I love show business.

Ate at a plant-based restaurant. It was good. Cauliflower.

Got my boots shined at a cobbler around the corner. Made me want to be a cobbler.

Smoked a Cuban cigar.

Did a show for 1900 people at a venue designed for symphonies. There were moments between bits where I deeply realized I was just a little guy on a huge stage and I was all alone. The crowd carried me. It was kind of beautiful. Grateful for my fans. Special people.

Slipped. Tanked the regimen. Ate British pork pie, filet mignon, Dover sole. A fan gave me vegan baked goods: cross bun, cinnamon roll, banana bread, carrot cake, sausage roll. In a fury of insecurity and need for reward I ate half of each in about a three-minute pig-like feeding flurry.

Laid down. A sugar sponge. Did the other thing. DIDN’T EVEN BRUSH MY TEETH. I’m a fucking outlaw, man.

Did laundry at a launderette. Humbling. Human. Meditative. 
 
Dublin:

I’ll let you know. 
 
There are new tour dates! It’s a lot but here:
 
August 9th in Portland, Oregon at Revolution Hall.
 
August 22nd in Dallas, Texas at the Majestic Theater.
 
August 23rd in Austin, Texas at the Paramount Theater.
 
August 24th in Houston at the Cullen Theater at Wortham Center.
 
September 6th in Vancouver at the Vogue Theater.
 
September 7th in Seattle at the Moore Theater.
 
September 20th in Chicago at the Vic.
 
September 21st in Detroit at the Masonic Temple.
 
September 22nd in Minneapolis at the Pantages.
 
October 10th in Philadelphia at the Merriam Theater.
 
October 11th in Washington, DC at the Kennedy Center Concert Hall.
 
October 12th in Boston at the Shubert Theater.
 
October 18th in Nashville at the James K. Polk Theater.
 
October 19th in Atlanta at the Tabernacle.
 
and October 26th in San Francisco at The Masonic.
 
There will be a fan presale for tickets this Wednesday, April 10th at 10am to Thursday, April 11th at 10pm. Just go to the venue websites and use the password Buster.

The official on-sale date for all venues is Friday, April 12th, except for the Kennedy Center. That's on sale April 19th.

You can always go to wtfpod.com slash tour for more info on all these dates and venues.
 
Today I have an engaged, intense chat with Vincent D’Onofrio. He directed The Kid. It’s a western. Good talk. On Thursday one of the two remaining KITH members I haven't had on yet came over. Bruce McCulloch and have nice talk.

Enjoy!

Boomer lives!

Love,

Maron

Institutions.

Hey, Folks!

I’m in New York. I’m doing one of those hit-and-run trips. I have a little scene in a movie to do today then I’m off to the UK for the shows there. There are still some tickets available for the London and Birmingham shows if you want to come. I think, since I spread out my shows there, people who would’ve traveled to come don’t need to now. I know who my people are. I know there’s a ceiling to my audience but come if you can.

I love NYC, kind of, for a few days. Maybe not. It’s hard to find what was great about this city sometimes but I also know we’ve both gotten older and gone through some changes. I have to be honest, though. The fact that the Lower East Side has turned into to some kind of chaotic-bridge-and-tunnel-international-touristy-dumb-drunk-bro-dumb-girl-dumb-dumb-shit show is hard to take. I’m sure I’ve covered this before, but NYC is really some kind of theme park caricature of its former self. It’s okay. Some of the institutions are still holding.

Every time I come here now I get it in my head to check out what’s going on at Jazz at Lincoln Center. I don’t see jazz anywhere. I know it’s around, but I don’t get out much. So, I landed at Kennedy, checked into my hotel, didn’t even change, walked briskly to the subway, got up to Lincoln Center with a few minutes to spare and was sitting in a sweet box seat for another flight of another kind. Marcus Miller (who I knew NOTHING about) put together a continuous  musical evening comprised of a selection of later Miles Davis work (which I knew a little about). He was the bass player for his band during that electric period. He surrounded himself with great players:Russell Gunn, Marquis Hill, Alex Hahn, Brett Williams, Alex Bailey, Vernon Reed (yup, that guy) and Mino Cinélu. Then they just went for it with selections from ‘In a Silent Way,’ ‘Tutu,’ ‘Bitches Brew’ and more. It was great. I can really lock into listening to an improvisation on almost any instrument. I can feel the musician preparing to launch into space once they’ve laid down the basic riff. It’s exciting when the get out there and when they land, if they land.

When I walked in, the usher said, ‘there’s no intermission and you can come and go as you like.’ I thought, ‘what a great definition of free jazz.’ What a great definition of life.

Today I talk to the amazing and gracious John Lithgow. On Thursday I have an informative and exciting conversation about music with T Bone Burnett. Great talks.

Enjoy!

Boomer lives!

Love,

Maron

Aspen.

I’m high, People!


Altitude-wise. And surrounded by high people. Colorado.


Well, all my anxiety about Aspen was unwarranted but real nonetheless. It turns out that a lot of my weird feelings were from childhood. Also, from having bad shows there in the past, but a lot of bad memories from ski trips I went on with my family. It’s weird how that stuff lingers or leaves a residue on all your adult thoughts. I know it doesn’t sound like heavy trauma and it isn’t. Things that are supposed to be fun, with all the expectation around having that experience, when they turn to shit and emotional clusterfucks they seem to leave a deeper impression in the neural pathways. Days ruined from outbursts of rage over a missing hat or the wrong socks or frozen toes or… Dad. It was rare when we were getting ready to hit the slopes in the morning that someone didn’t end up crying, if not all of us. That all came back to me up there for some reason.

The Wheeler Opera Houser where I performed is a beautiful little theater built in the 1800s, I think. I’d been there before but I have no real recollection of it because I was so stressed out the other times I’d been there. It’s a sweet venue. It’s odd. There is a part of me that freaks out before a show. It isn’t based in anything anymore. It’s an old pattern. A dead tendril. A phantom limb. I will get it wagging though. And as soon as I step on the stage for sound check I realize I am home.

 

The show was fun. Got through some new stuff. Dealt with a couple ‘where are the jokes’ Republican folks. All-in-all, good times. I couldn’t breathe right and my brain was a little tweaked from the altitude but there were no major skids. I stayed on the wire. 

 

Aspen is a weird place. Some of the richest people in the world own houses there that they go to for a few days a year. Really rich people go there to ski. Some regular folks, too. Then there are the people that live there year-round and work the work. They see some shit. They know what’s up. They have special chips on their practical shoulders. 

 

I walked past a guy sitting in front of a storefront on the street and as I passed he said, ‘You want to buy a house?’ He was a realtor. Selling homes like drugs. I said, ‘Is that really an impulse buy?’ He said, ‘Sometimes. It’s an emotional thing.’ I told him I didn’t have my check book. Aspen. 

 

Today I talk to Rob Lowe about Rob Lowe. Better guy than I thought, I think. On Thursday me and Phoebe Robinson resolve some of the smaller racial tensions and questions and talk comedy, too. Great talks. 

 

Enjoy!

Boomer lives!

Love,

Maron

Personal Garbage.

Hey, Folks!

The whole daylight savings thing has really fucked me up somehow. Not only do I not know what time it really is but I’m having trouble knowing what day it is. Maybe it’s a deeper problem. I think it’s because I’m done shooting GLOW and back to my self-employed schedule which doesn’t really have a differentiation between weekdays and weekends. That probably sounds better than it is. All it really means is that I am always working for the most part.

Cat update: Buster is doing well. Monkey is old. LaFonda is old. The oldies are doing well too.

It’s been a busy few days. I had to move the studio. I'm having major work done on the garage and it might take a while. So, I moved the studio into the house. Now the weirdness of going through the house and out the back door then into the garage will replaced with the weirdness of coming into the house and walking upstairs and into a room. It’s all very cozy. I can’t tell you what a trip it continues to be to have guests come over. It’s just so odd in a way. This is the way show business works now. And really no one thinks it’s weird anymore. It just is. I’ve gotten a lot compliments on the new place from fancy people. That’s nice.

I moved everything myself again. In small batches. I put all the books under the house. When I moved the books from the old garage to the new garage I didn’t go through them. Took them all. I had an opportunity to go through them this time. Didn’t. Not sure when that’s going to happen. There are hundreds of them. I know I don’t want many of them. I just can’t seem to bring myself to get rid of them. It’s weird moving things alone. Slowly. It kind of rekindles your relationship with your personal garbage. I think you have a better shot at getting rid of things if you move frenetically, with help, quickly. It doesn’t give you time to reengage with artifacts that may be meaningless. Maybe none of them are truly meaningless. Most of the shit I hold onto are markers of some part of my life but even those are getting hazy. I guess that’s why I keep things. To remember. 

Today on the show I talk to rare person. There is truly no one like her and I don’t think she does these interviews much. Amy Sedaris. I love her. Special person. You never know where you are going to go when you talk to her. On Thursday I talk to musical genius Tal Wilkenfeld. She has an amazing new record coming out. Maybe I’ll even play the song we composed for the Lynn Shelton movie I’m in called ‘Sword of Trust.’ The song is called ‘New Boots.’

Enjoy!

Boomer and Buster live!


Love,

Maron

Vinyl.

Heavy weather, folks.
 
I know I can’t complain but I can be nervous. Scratch that, terrified. The weather has been fucking crazy. The hills around Los Angeles look like fucking Scotland. Which is great. I guess. We’re not in a drought anymore but it all feels like an ongoing bad omen. My friend sent me a pic from Minneapolis of almost six feet of snow. Which is not so great. I’m going to start reading a book called The Uninhabitable Earth: Life After Warming. It was sent to me by the publisher and why not diminish the little hope I have a bit more. I mean, I have a little downtime. 
 
GLOW Season three has wrapped. The wrap party was last night and it was exciting to see everyone who worked on the show. I am so shitty with names. I’ve worked with people for three years now and I still can’t remember people’s names. My brain is going. Actually, I’ve always been this way. It was fun and sad to see everyone. A show becomes a world. The world ends at the ends of shooting until next year, hopefully. Now I want to see the fucking season. That’s really the weirdest thing about working on a show or a movie. I have no idea how it will all come together. I was sort of off on my own story line this season. A lot of stuff happened with a lot of the characters and I have no idea how it all goes down. So, I am excited to watch the show I am on. 
 
Buster Kitten is still seemingly doing well. He likes the prescription kidney food. Which is odd according my vet because it doesn’t taste great. That’s one of the benefits of having a weirdo cat. 
 
On another note, a musical one, people have always asked us about putting together a compilation of the songs from the show, and we always wanted to but it's a tricky thing to do, logistically. But we got hooked up with the folks at Newbury Comics who were interested in doing something with us and, in partnership with them, we've put together something really special. 
 
Record Store Day is on April 13th, and for this year's Record Store Day, we're releasing an exclusive limited-edition vinyl album called In The Garage: Live Music from WTF with Marc Maron. 
 
It's got ten acoustic performances with J Mascis, Melissa Etheridge, E from Eels, Karen Kilgariff, Ben Harper and Charlie Musselwhite, Nick Lowe, Margo Price, Jason Isbell, Aimee Mann, and Dave Alvin. I actually played with Dave on that track. 
 
All of these artists were extremely generous in allowing their performances to be featured on the album, and Brendan and I are donating our proceeds to the charity Musicians on Call, who bring music to the patients of healthcare facilities, to add a dose of joy to their day. 
 
Again, Record Store Day 2019 is happening April 13, so pick up your copy then. Participating stores can be found at recordstoreday.com.

Today I talk to actor Alfred Molina who is one of the most memorable character actors of all time. I love the guy. Great talk! On Thursday we release the fifth installation of The Marc and Tom Show. This is me and my friend Tom Scharpling from The Best Show just… talking. It’s always great to talk to Tom. 

Enjoy!

Boomer and Buster live!


Love,

Maron

The Return.

Buster lives, People!


Sadly, I have to start this missive marking the passing of a fellow comic and unique human. Brody Stevens passed away last week. He was a one of kind person. An authentic, charismatic, funny oddball. He exuded an intense engaging energy that could blow right through you and it was all uniquely him. He battled hard with depression. He was very open about it. It was an ongoing narrative with him publicly and personally. You could SEE him fighting it. He made many people happy and was loved by the entire comedy community. Last week he lost his battle with depression and took his own life and it was devasting. It's like a necessary turbine driving the Comedy Store machinery has been turned off forever and the place will have to adapt and run without it. Brody will be missed. RIP.


Some good news now. I haven’t written in a week (and last week’s shows were done ahead of time so I could only speculate) but Buster Kitten is seriously on the mend. I don’t want to say cured because I won’t really know until I bring him to the vet for tests this week but I’m pretty grateful. I brought him home from the hospital and he was the sweetest cat I’ve ever seen. Totally affectionate and cute. Very not Buster but I thought it was good. I quarantined him in a room and gave him his IV fluid daily. He seemed to know he needed them. I fed him the special diet kidney food and gave him all the love I am capable of giving, i.e. slightly more than I am able to do with humans but still a little tempered. 


For the four days I had him isolated and recuperating, he remained the sweetest cat in the world. Then I let him out into the general population. Because he was home for a few days he didn’t smell alien to the oldies, Monkey and LaFonda. They didn’t hiss at him.  Everyone was sort of minding their own business for a day. Things were weird. The oldies didn’t quite know what was happening. I always think when a cat returns, the other cats think he came back from the dead. They had grieved and accepted his passing. So, when he comes back, it’s a bit jarring. They had also had a pleasant reprieve from being bullied and beat up by the little fucker. When that wasn’t happening, I thought Buster was a changed cat, docile, resigned. Then day two, in general, happened. 


I heard the panicked scrambling of LaFonda's little feet on the wood floor and then her hissing. Later that day I heard Monkey squealing and running. Buster is back, baby. I felt bad for the oldies for a few minutes but then I saw Monkey baiting Buster and I thought, Oh, shit. He knows he can’t win but he’s having a good time. LaFonda packs a pretty good punch so he eventually lays of her a bit. I think everyone here is actually happy the little fucker is back to his old self. It was nice to spend some time with him when he was needy and affectionate but hey, who can stay in that zone? I gotta let Buster be Buster.


I’ll let you know how the tests go.


Don’t forget to send any questions you have for our 1000th episode. Anything you want to know about past episodes, past guests, things from my life, things from life in general. Send your questions to wtfpod@gmail.com and put 1000th Episode Question in the subject.


Today on the show I talk to the savagely funny Andrea Savage. Love her. Her show ‘I’m Sorry’ is great. On Thursday I talk to Gary Clark, Jr. about, you know, guitar. Great talks!


Enjoy!


Boomer lives!


Love,

Maron

Hoping and Doing.

Sad, People.

My new little guy, Buster Kitten, is really sick.

It came out of nowhere. He was throwing up the other day. That happens when you have cats. I brought him in before for the puking and the vet didn’t find anything. I thought it would be the same this time. It wasn’t. 

I took him in the next day. The vet did some blood tests and came out and told me that Buster was in kidney failure. It was devastating. The cat is only 2 ½. I’ve been through a lot of shit with many different cats. It’s just so sad. I have no idea what caused it. It could be an infection, a toxin, cancer, congenital. I had to take him to the animal hospital and he’s been in the ICU over there for two days now. Getting fluid, antibiotics and care. He has energy and is peeing but he’s not really eating and his kidney numbers aren’t getting better. I’m getting an ultrasound for him tomorrow. Maybe we can get a few more answers. Maybe its treatable. Maybe things will turn around. I was blaming myself. Maybe I left something around that he ate and poisoned himself. Maybe I should’ve brought him in earlier. I guess that’s what some of us do. Blame ourselves. I don’t think I had any control over what happened. I just hope he gets better. 

I know people say that cats to cat people are like their kids. They aren’t quite but for those of us who aren’t great at relationships with people all the time and/or don’t have kids, our pets are what we can handle and emotionally manage. I’ve never really felt bad about not having kids. I know in my heart that I’m not cut out for it. Emotionally. For me, my cats are caring, emotional relationships I can handle and manage. There’s a consistency to it. They don’t grow up to be doctors or make millions of dollars but they are there, relatively steady, individual in personality, loving enough—consistent. My relationship with my two old cats Monkey and LaFonda is the longest I’ve ever had. We all understand each other and show up for each other in the ways we can and it’s good. It’s not sad. 

All that being said, I really hope Buster makes it. He’s a unique cat. I love the guy. I understand the limitations of the relationship and I’m doing all I can to see if I can help him.

Today I talk the lovely Tony Shahloub about his career and the new season of Mrs. Maisel. Sweet guy. On Thursday I talk to Yeardley Smith who is the voice of Lisa on The Simpsons. We talk about her interesting life and career. I also reveal a surprise guest appearance on my show and on another show that I was part of. Great stuff all around.

Enjoy!

Buster, live!


Love,

Maron

A Close Call.

I believe, People!

Thankfully, I let the truth disassemble and crush those beliefs as soon as possible. Sometimes it takes longer than I like. 

A little business up front here. The Dynasty Typewriter residency here in LA this month is mostly sold out. So, if you want tickets you better grab them. Same with the UK and Ireland dates in April. Get on them, if you want them. All ticket links at wtfpod.com/tour.

Back to the power of belief. I am always amazed at some people’s commitment to their beliefs over fact. Obviously, the line between fact and fiction is being intentionally blurred by the many brain-fuck machines engaged in the current agitprop insemination of the grey matter of angry lost ones. Beliefs are satisfying. Why not cling to them? They make sense of things that are complicated without having to deal with annoying facts and process. 

Without getting political, I try to assess how things happen from my own vantage point. From my own experience. It’s the only way I can understand things most of the time. It’s how I engage my empathy. I had an experience with some wild steelhead trout that I’m a bit hung up on. 

I bought a pound of the fish. I pan sautéed half of it the day I got it. It was amazing. A couple of days later I was looking forward to eating the other half. I spent the whole day thinking about cooking it up. It was actually all I had in the fridge for a protein for dinner. When I got home I pulled the fish out of the fridge and unwrapped it. I was heating up the pan simultaneously. Now, steelhead is the color of salmon. This piece had a definite grey spot on it. I was looking at it and, in my mind, I thought that’s probably a normal discoloring. I just didn’t notice it. Or it was fat. Yeah, that must be it, fat. There was also a spot of something on it that looked like it had grown there. Somehow in my mind it was a blemish. Natural thing. I smelled it. Smelled okay. The point was I wanted to believe it was fine. I mean, there was no way it was fine but, in that moment, I was bending this rancid piece of fish into something that was going be good and tasty. 

I put the slab of fish into the pan and I actually sliced off the weird spot. It’s fish, NOT CHEESE. What the fuck was I thinking? And I cooked that thing all the way through, plated it, took a bite and I immediately spit it out because it was nasty as fuck. It was bad from the beginning but I wanted to believe, despite what I saw with my own two eyes. That’s a little scary. I could’ve eaten it, gotten some horrible food borne illness, then a fever that gave me brain damage and within a few weeks I’d be a believer in the ‘Pizzagate’ conspiracy.

Dodged a bullet. 

Great week of talks. Today I talk to hip hop artist Anderson .Paak. I didn’t know much about him other than I once was hosting a show he was on an I brought him on stage as Andrew Paak. I felt bad about that. I listened to almost all his stuff and it’s great. It’s a really good talk. On Thursday I talk to director Yorgos Lanthimos about all his films including his latest, The Favourite. Good week.
 

Enjoy! 


Boomer lives!

Love,

Maron

Turning a Corner.

People!
 
Winning? Overrated. 
 
Who doesn’t want to win? I guess. 
 
I’m just not always sure what game we are playing. I mean, if you are actually playing a game with rules and a context, that is different. If it’s not established that we are in a game other than staying alive and trying to be decent humans you have to decide what you are competing for and why. It’s probably mostly bullshit. Bored, bitter, shitty people are constantly trying to pit people against each other. To frame your journey through life as winning or losing is empty and shallow and to pit people against each other for kicks is craven. Hard not to judge yourself against others but it’s kind of a waste of time. You’re probably just using what you see as other people’s success as a bat to beat your yourself with. Avoid the bat boys. 
 
If you’re okay with yourself and you try to be better at the things that maybe only you know are struggles to be better, that’s winning. 
 
Okay, enough self-help. 

I’ve posted some UK and Ireland dates in April at wtfpod.com/tour. Come see me. 
 
I’ve had a couple breakthroughs. Don’t get crazy. Nothing that major. I realized that sometimes I immediately overreact and then panic about things I am confronted with which leads me to make reactive and not great decisions without really understanding what is necessary. I need to stop that. (I guess self-help time wasn’t over.)
 
The other breakthrough is that I may be turning a corner on Steely Dan. Those of you who have listened to the show for a while know that I’ve been pretty dead set in my aversion to Steely Dan. Mostly because it’s some of the only music I’ve listened to that is actually tonally condescending. Seems to be produced that way. I couldn’t get past all that. And I couldn’t stand the never-ending fawning of Steely Dan acolytes who are also tonally condescending. I’m having a change of heart because I recently just, all of sudden, heard them differently.
 
I went to see Tracy Letts’ new play Linda Vista here in LA at the Mark Taper Forum. It’s a great piece of work. Funny, raw, challenging but not in a snobby way, relatable and current. It deals with relationships, selfishness, men and women, youth and age, bitterness, joy, defeat, delusion, honesty, America, sex… it’s all there AND there’s tasteful aggressive nudity, too. Go see it. Great shit. Anyway, the main character likes Steely Dan and some of their music was played during set changes. I don’t know if it was how I related to the character or the sound system or just time but I heard Pretzel Logic in a way I hadn’t before—as a blues song. It opened the portal. I’m not going to convert but I appreciate it a little more now. I came home and listened to it differently. 
 
Today on the show I talk to the truly amazing Allison Janney. I’m am so glad she decided to do the show. Love her. On Thursday we navigate the darkness with writer Allan MacDonell and talk about his new book Now that I’m Gone. We talk drugs, LA, punk rock, death, the slow grind of life and what makes it worth living, kind of. Great talks. 
 

Enjoy! 


Boomer lives!

Love,

Maron

Changes and Choices.

Hello, People


I’m losing my mind. You?

I’ve gotten myself all strung out again. Nicotine lozenges and about a gallon of black tea a day. I’m sitting around wondering why I’m so anxious and jacked up all the time. Aggravated. I just refuse to acknowledge what’s causing it. Like being a caffeine and nicotine sponge that I have to keep soaked all day, every day would have anything to do with my mental disposition. Nah. Must be the world, the weather, the amount of work I have to do. That’s the beautiful denial mind in the addict head. Anything to protect my desire to stay jacked.

Why keep doing it if its clearly uncomfortable? Well, I guess it’s the consistency. The habit. The ritual. The festering then the relief. The getting well. Earning that by needing the stuff.

Damnit. Round and round. Patterns of life. The widening gyre.  Circling the drain and I’m the drain. The hole.

Do we really change? Can we really change? I think yes. Eventually we get tired. Tired of repetition, tired from age, tired from the distractions and eventually something gives or we give up. Then we change. Or we just don’t do things anymore. We stop ourselves from taking the action, saying the thing, making the face, we stifle ourselves. That’s a learned thing. Its called behaving. So, you can change by knowing your choices and making the right one, but that can get exhausting too. Indecision. Back to giving up. The letting go.

The longer you live the clearer it becomes that change is sometimes gradual and it has nothing to do with anything but age and being humbled by time. Which is good. Conserve that energy for the last few laps.

Today on the show I talk to Aaron Sorkin and we didn’t talk as fast as I thought was expected. On Thursday me and Brad Garrett do the comic talk thing. Good times. Good talks.

Enjoy! 


Boomer lives!

Love,

Maron

Brain Sparks.

Hola, People!

Hope all is well by you. Everything is okay over here. Processing information. We are all information processors and repositories and dumpsters and sieves.

‘You have a brain like a sieve,' my mom would say to me.

Maybe I do. Maybe all the good stuff just flows through and is forgotten and I’m left with the sediment and chaff and boney bits. The good stuff. The stuff that sticks. The stuff you want sift through. The answers.

What the fuck am I talking about? Dunno. Just followed the thought and that was what was left. See, my mom was right.

Sarah Cain the painter had a big opening the other night here in LA at Honor Fraser Gallery and I have to say it was some of her best work ever. Big, colorful canvases, smaller pieces, a stained-glass piece and a massive painted floor. The art world is like another planet to me. Visual artists of her ilk open their brains and hearts and put it on a wall in a pure articulated form, open to interpretation, and it attaches to something primal in the looker, yet touches all the memories and thoughts and sparks them up a bit. It flowed out in movements and colors and objects that give the sediment in our brains spark again. Reconnects the husks of feelings with a little life, a bit of spirit, some soul. As you walk away from it, it settles back but differently. Reconfigured. Loosened. Malleable.

Fuck the wall.

I propose a hedge. Build a hedge. Build a hedge. The wall is an expensive, daunting, hideous and medieval plan. How about a nice eight-to-ten-foot, well-manicured, thorny hedge with some cameras here and there? That would be deterrent enough and create some gardening jobs and save some bread that can be used for making the country better in tangible ways like education, infrastructure, and health care.

The hedge.

Today on the show I talk to comedian Howie Mandel. You can think what you want about old Howie but he is a show biz survivor. Huge star to has-been to different kind of huge star. You never really know how a career in show biz will pan out, if at all. On Thursday I talk to  Linda Cardellini. She’s a great actress and oddly intense in a very charming way. Great talks.
 

Enjoy! 


Boomer lives!

Love,

Maron

Optimism.

Back to work, People!

Sorry. Maybe some of you have been working all the way through. I know a few people are going back today. Kinda sucks, but it’s kinda good. I go crazy with too much time to thinky. Also, my heart goes to all you folks who the President is denying a living because he’s a big baby tyrant and doesn’t know how to do his job. We’ll all get through it…maybe. Geez, we’re seven days in and I’m already back to the same old, same old terrified cynicism. Sorry. I’ll perk up. Yay! New year.

The best thing that could happen is that he finds the money somewhere for his wall but not enough and his legacy is this big, dumb half a wall or a third of wall. For generations it stands a monument unintentionally honoring Trumpian incompetence. People travel to see it and laugh and laugh and talk about how the country turned on him and he resigned and died in prison. Then they walk back and forth over the border a few times celebrating a diverse America. See! Optimism.

I joined a gym. I belonged to the YMCA but I hadn’t been going. For like two years. Sarah used it sometimes. I did not. I’ve been going to a smaller training gym. Now, I have a nice gym right down the street and now I have to go. It’s weird. I didn’t feel bad about not going to the Y and still paying. I guess I figured it was a Y, the money had to be helping somehow. I will feel bad if I don’t go to this gym. So, I’ve been there twice already this last week. New gyms are always odd. Figuring out where everything is. What kind of people are there. This one has a steam room. Figuring out what’s going on there. Is it on the level? Is there a time of day that maybe it’s not just for steaming? Maybe not everyone has that concern. I did live in NYC for many years. You don’t want to interrupt a party that you didn’t know was going on or be sucked into one (I know what I did there) that you don’t want to be at. If that’s not your thing. Not judging, just trying to get the lay of the land. Seems on the level.

I do feel better lately. Been keeping the eating under control and exercising a lot and I feel almost good about myself. Weird how that works. It won’t last. Wait. Damn. Yay! New year.

I’m very excited about the show this week. Today I talk to Steve Coogan who is a comedic genius. And I have to say that this new film Stan and Ollie is beautiful. It was a stunning exploration of characters that we only remember from black and white bits or pictures. Laurel and Hardy were people and Coogan and John C. Reilly both deliver Oscar-level performances embodying these men. It’s a sweet, touching movie about show biz and friendship. On Thursday my friend Sam Lipsyte and I have it out. He’s also a comedic genius. His new novel ‘Hark’ is his best yet. You can preorder it here: https://www.simonandschuster.com/books/Hark/Sam-Lipsyte/9781501146060

It’s a cutting, hilarious book. Really.
 

Enjoy! 


Boomer lives!

Love,

Maron