POTTERY.

Biscuits, pork and pottery, People.

I’ve been in the Carolinas for three days. The shows in Durham and Charlotte were great. Charlotte was very hands on. Exciting. I haven’t done my Charleston show as of this writing. I hope I get home. Seems flights are a bit fucked.

I always seem to enjoy coming to this part of the country despite the fact that some part of me thinks the enemy lives here. I just have to understand they are everywhere now. There is a haircut trend here that is a bit disconcerting. Grown men in their thirties and forties are sporting some kind of little boy haircut from the fifties. It’s a kind of Butch Wax Reich look. I think it was popular in the ‘30s with grown men of a certain Germanic type. Could be just a haircut trend. I hear teenagers are mulleting again. I won’t read too much into it.

I ate a fried chicken biscuit with cheddar at RISE in Durham. I ate a pork plate with hush puppies and collards at Rodney Scott’s BBQ in Charleston. So fucking good.

I do have anxiety concerns. This one is a small and steady. I tend to do a lot of OCD-and-anxiety-driven behavior to keep my mind off the overwhelming terror of the world. I keep it small batch.

I like pottery. Many of you know the last time I was down here I went to Seagrove, NC which is sort of the pottery capital of North America. I bought a bunch of stuff from a bunch of different potters. It was fun and exciting. I like pottery as a decorative art. It is unique and affordable and you can eat and drink out of it if you want.

Last time I was in the area my potter friend Brian Jones, whose work I give to my guests, told me to go see the work of Mark Hewitt. He told me Mark was the OG, the guy, the first of the new wave of Seagrove potters, the real deal. He only shows his stuff by appointment. His studio is where his home is and it’s in Pittsboro, NC. I remember thinking it sounded like a hassle so I didn’t reach out. This time I did.

I called the number on his site to see if I could get an appointment. A machine picked and a woman said they rarely listen to messages left there. She said if I wanted to see the stuff I should call Carol. She said Carol’s cell number and I almost wrecked the car writing it down. I called Carol. I told her who I was and that I wanted to see the goods. She said I had amazing luck because that day was the day of the kiln opening. Apparently twice a year a giant batch of work is removed from the giant kiln and put on display in the studio showroom and sold. She said it was from 10 to 5. I was excited. I looked at my watch and was already ten and I was an hour away. Anxiety. I kind of spiraled.

I thought, ‘Shit I’m going to late. There’s not going to be any jars or mugs or pitchers left. Is there even going to be parking? Is there going to be a line of a hundred people waiting to see the stuff? Pottery groupies and collectors? Is there going to be fights? Will they have porta potties and water? Will I be waiting on line while people walk by on their way out with all the good pottery thinking, “fuck, they got all the good ones?” Is that how it’s going to be?’

Total brain melt over POTTERY. In NORTH CAROLINA. Like it was Black Friday at Best Buy. Jesus.

I got there and there were like 15 people wandering through the showrooms and yard. Mostly nice seeming ladies. There was plenty of amazing stuff. I bought some beautiful pieces. I talked to Mark. You can see it on my IG page if you’re curious.

I’m nuts.

Today I talk to comedian Kate Berlant about ART and other things. On Thursday I mix it up with my old friend Dana Gould about the state of things and comedy. Great talks!

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

My Coyote.

It's a nice day here, People.

I’m not taking it lightly. I’m sitting on my porch writing this in perfect California weather. It’s the reason people live here. It’s the calm before the storm here. The firestorm.

I’m trying to stay in the day and appreciate my life despite what my brain wants me to think about. The speculative horror unfolding daily is accelerated by my hungry angry brain and supported by the information I curate on my phone. Fires always. Of all kinds.

Not here on my porch today. Birds are all around. So many kinds. Flocks of green parrots scream by. Crows. Hummingbirds. Mourning Doves. Black Phoebes are shitting all over my front steps from two nests in the point of my front roof. I have to clean it up every two days.

This is the mundanity of life. A good life. This is the pace of what it is. If you separate your actual experience of the reality of your immediate environment and your engagement with it from the fire you set in your brain every day with hundreds of threads of renegade information and pics and vids, the disparity is epic. Building out from the reality of your immediate environment to address issues with collective life is where we should be grounded. Being part of a dangling flaming thread and screaming that its reality is the problem. Everywhere. The flaming threads connecting us is not the foundation of community.

Sorting out what your real issues are, both personal and political from the point of view of your actual life is what is missing. Broken people full of fury and grievance find all types of hot bullshit to attach their victim driven belief system to and find like-minded folks to fuel a movement of insane hostile intent and then claim they are the marginalized. Fertile soil for Fascism. Scary stuff.

It’s still nice out here. Hummingbirds are violent little fuckers.

A coyote was sleeping in my yard the other day. I posted a vid of it on IG. Hundreds of opinions unleashed in the comments. It’s bad, it’s good, it’s sick, it’s cute, it’s dangerous, it’s infected. Everyone thinks they know everything. Most people know nothing. Who wants to admit that? Why not just speculate? Share bits and pieces of bigger things out of context like it's correct.

I immediately became attached to it. My coyote.

Native Americans hang a lot of meaning on coyotes and crows. I’m surrounded by both. Coyotes are tricksters. Crows are symbols of change. Gatekeepers. I’m not sure what that all means in terms of my spiritual life or on the big metaphysical plane but here in the yard I know the coyote won’t trick its way into eating my cats. That’s why I have a catio.

Today I talk to Greg Proops about the tribalization of comedy and its exploitation by the current fascist movement in our country. On Thursday I talk to Jen Statsky who co-created the TV show ‘Hacks.’

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Enjoy!

Love,
Maron

Can't Stop.

Working, People.

I am doing a lot of comedy. Like, a lot.

I just can’t stop it seems. To the point where I’m wondering why. That happens sometimes. I feel guilty for taking a night off. It’s an old NYC club work ethic. I have to get the sets in.

In light of that I’m still amazed that a set that doesn’t feel great to me still fucks me up for a day. Even if it’s just a 15-minute set. Even if someone DMs me on IG to tell me it was the most they laughed since Trump was in office. I’m still a little mad about it. I think embarrassed is more the feeling. To not get laughs where I know they belong, where I’ve gotten them before is shameful somehow. I just have to suck it up. It’s part of the job.

Saturday I had a set in the Original Room at The Comedy Store that was so specifically a night club set that I felt like I was possessed by an old timey schtickster spirit. I was Ricklesing. I was working at a clip that was quick and the beats were happening every 15 or 20 seconds. I was slinging the insults at the people up front. I was totally killing. About 2/3 of the room were fighting for air they were laughing so much. The other third didn’t seem to know where they were or why they came. I didn’t care. Their loss. Fuck them.

I had to have a guy thrown out because he stood up during my set and started applauding on his exposed stomach. I had zero patience. "Get him out of here." Two women sitting up front, nowhere near him, shrieked, “It’s his birthday!”

I said, “I don’t care. It’s not my job to babysit him. Fuck him. It will be a memorable birthday.”

Tired of that shit. Why is that part of comedy club culture?

I was driving to the Comedy Store on Friday and a punchline was delivered to me from the big funny in the sky. I’m always thinking about ways to address heavy, controversial things in a way that isn’t too self-righteous or earnest. This one that came to me was about the pro-choice movement and trying to find some middle ground with the Christian Right. I think it’s a branding thing. Abortion Clinic just sounds too medical and awful. I thought maybe if we call them Angel Factories we can change the perception. Make it something positive for them. Angel Factories. That’s what came to me. What a gift.

Today I talk to stop-motion and special effects wizard Phil Tippett about his new feature Mad God that he has been working on for 30 years. There’s some Star Wars talk too. A little. On Friday I talk to the very funny comic Lara Beitz. Great talks.

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and La Fonda live!

Love,
Maron

Idealizing the Place.

Canada, Folks.

It’s always a relief to go to Canada. Even if it’s just for a day or two. I love Vancouver. It’s a beautiful city.

It was nice to be in a city that has an abundance of water but also sad to land in a city and be jealous of a drizzle. Everything is so green and the landscape is so dramatic and lush. Stunning. Everything looks like kindling where I live. In the not-so-back of my mind I’m wondering where climate migration will take me.

I feel all the American garbage culture stress roll off me almost immediately upon arrival in Canada. I used to think I was idealizing the place or not seeing it properly. I wasn’t. I walked across the Burrard Bridge and I saw relaxed people walking, running, holding hands. Unpretentious. Humble. There was no feeling of the psychic pollution of the States that pervades everything. The slow unraveling, quickening.

I don’t know the nuances of Canadian politics and I’m sure they’ve got their own problems but I have a sensitivity to the selfish frenzy of the paranoid American psychological environment and it is not hanging over Vancouver. There is a feeling of diversity and integration that I’m sure isn’t perfect but it is different and genuine and not tense. Even Canadian pretension lacks pretense. Granted, it’s a little boring, but it’s real. Almost meditative. Practical.

The show I did at the Vogue was great. Cameron Esposito wanted to do some time before so I let her work on some new stuff. She was great. The crowd was great. Did some new versions of the stuff I’ve been working on. Tightening it up a bit. I really like the Vogue. It does have one of the most tragic, drug addict refuge alleys behind it though. It’s not that there are a lot of addicts back there but the ones there are all in, full-on street, totally tragic. It makes me feel grateful, which I don’t always appreciate. I went out the front after the show. I had my own buzz and I didn’t want it to be killed.

I talk to Rosie Perez today. It’s truly a great talk. It’s really what this is all about. It’s what this show is best at. It’s a deep conversation with an amazing creative person about the struggle of her life. It has nothing to do with show business. It was the type of talk that when we were done I asked her if she was okay and she said, ‘I’m going to need a minute.’ As did I. Moving.

On Thursday I talk to Jesus Trejo. He’s a young gun who I have watched work his way up from parking cars at the store to becoming a strong act.

Great talks.

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and Lafond live!

Love,
Maron

History and Memory.

Deep trip, People.

These journeys alone on the road are doing something to me. They are changing me somehow. In a good way.

I seem to continually be settling into myself. I guess that it could be called evolving but I’m not sure that’s it. It’s probably closer to accepting and opening.

The last few days have been profound and fun and revealing somehow. It’s all about history and memory, both personal and cultural.

I landed in Washington, DC last Thursday. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with my time there before the show at The Kennedy Center. I knew I was going to talk to my old college roommate Lance, which I share today on the show. Once I got down there I decided to go to The Smithsonian National Museum of African American History and Culture. We set up a time to talk to Dr. Dwandalyn Reece who is the curator of Music and Performing Arts at the Museum.

I had no idea what to expect. I believed I was sensitive to the Black experience in this country. At least in broad, empathetic strokes. I feel that my heart and mind is in the right place around their struggle. I had no fucking idea. It turns out empathy can be shallow. Well-intended and real, but shallow. How can you really put yourself into someone else’s shoes if you really don’t know where they walked from?

The building itself is kind of an architectural masterpiece built around the idea of a traditional Nigerian headdress depicted in tribal sculpture. That lattice work all around the building is a riff on the work of a blacksmith who learned their trade in slavery and evolved it as a craft.

The journey in the museum begins in the basement, downstairs, in darkness. The thorough and horrible history of slavery going back way before the United States was founded. Ships, shackles, torture and inhumanity thoroughly displayed. Illustrating what this country was really built on. My empathy became informed. It isn’t an easy experience. The roots of racism defined and the bloody struggle for freedom documented all the way up to current events. It’s a devasting journey and I was not there long enough to really take it all in but I took in a lot. Enough to blow my mind.

Upstairs, where the light comes in, the floors are dedicated to the contributions of African Americans to this country. This was the intent of the museum from the beginning of its conception more than 100 years ago. Yeah, it’s taken that long to get the place built. The upper floors explore contributions in music, Literature, fashion, sports, dance, poetry, commerce, agriculture, education, design, etc. There was a gallery filled with visual art, some of which had seen before but with different eyes.

After walking through the history it is impossible not to approach all of African American achievement in light of it. It deepens the aesthetic and power of understanding. Everyone should visit that place. Especially now as the forces of fascism and white supremacy legislate the banning of teaching this part of the history of this country in almost half the states in this country.

The other part of Monday’s show is me reconnecting with my own past by talking to my college roommate, Lance Mion. It’s hard to see yourself as others see you. We missed most of each other’s lives but there was a core connection that remains vital and timeless.

I actually had dinner with my other two college roommates in NJ after my show in Red Bank. It wasn’t like coming full circle. It was more like reconnecting with parts of me that I haven’t engaged with in decades.

I also spent time with my Aunt and Uncle and cousins down the Shore. I drove through Asbury Park with my cousin. We looked at the building where my grandparents used to live on the boardwalk. I ate steamers and real Italian food. It wasn’t nostalgic. It was more like doing the things that my father liked to do and I did as a kid but now did as an adult. Again, not nostalgic. Reconnection.

So, today you’ll hear my talks with Dr. Dwandalyn Reece and my friend Lance Mion. On Thursday, I talk to one of the old Comedy Store originals, Joey Camen.

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

An Absence.

Sad day, Folks.

Today is the second anniversary of the death of Lynn Shelton.

I don’t think I was really thinking about it. At least no more than I do any other day, which is still quite a bit. I was out in the world working, doing stuff. Then on Saturday, my performance was a little heavier, more emotional than the other shows. It was in Royal Oak, Michigan. It was just heavy. I felt the weight of what I was saying. Much of it dark. Some of it about Lynn’s passing. My sadness was barely veiled. When that happens, the job becomes about not falling into it. It’s a tough line to hold sometimes. I was sweating a bit.

When I was flying home yesterday I watched The Intern with Anne Hathaway and Robert DeNiro. I’ve watched it many times. I like it. Guilty pleasure. Apparently, I was crying a lot. The flight attendant asked me if I was okay. It’s not even a sad movie. It’s a touching movie. I also realized that Rene Russo reminded me a lot of Lynn. The tears have to come out somewhere.

It really is horrible that she is gone. My heart goes out to all the people she touched with her work and the people that knew her personally and loved her. There are some days when I think she is better off not being here with the horrible state of everything. That is just me projecting my own sad hopelessness in order to try to control my grief and believe she may be in a better place. I don’t really believe that. She's just gone, forever. The truth is, Lynn loved life. Loved it. She loved to work and eat and laugh and talk to people and make movies and music. She lit the world up wherever she went. She lit me the fuck up and now I struggle to stay lit.

I think about her and how she felt about me and how that made me feel. I think about how it felt to love her. I know that the work I am doing now has a depth and vulnerability to it that wouldn’t have existed with her.

I miss her. I miss what we may have been. It's a terrible place to occupy some days. My life is fine, it’s good. I am okay. I enjoy stuff. I have people in my life. There’s just a sadness and a tugging of an absence that won’t really ever go away I imagine.

Today I have an engaged talk with Sandra Oh. She was very excited to be on. Thursday I talk to Michael Che. I recorded it in NYC a while back. I didn’t really know him. I like that guy.

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

A Tribute to Dan Vitale.

Tulsa, People!

I’ve had a truly good time in this city. I lucked into a great week to be here.

Shooting an episode of Reservation Dogs has been great. It’s odd, I spend a lot of time thinking about what to do with a ‘character’ when I get roles like this. Ultimately, I just end up being some version of myself and being funny. The director, Blackhorse Lowe, and Sterlin Harjo were both pushing me to improvise so it was always fun and funny. I’m excited to see what they cut together. I shoot one more day here.

It was the opening week of the Bob Dylan Center here as well. There were concerts at The Cain Ballroom for the entire weekend. I saw Mavis Staples, Patti Smith and Elvis Costello in three consecutive days. Everyone was great but Patti is transcendent. I can’t even explain why she is so amazing to watch. Present. Engaged.

The Cain is a historical venue and was home to Bob Wills and the Texas Playboys. You can really feel the history in the place, particularly in the floor. It was built for swing dancing and it has a bounce to it. It’s one of the best venues I have ever been in.

The Bob Dylan Center is an amazing place. The interactive retrospective exhibition of his work is amazing. The center is based on the ownership of his archives by the Kaiser Foundation and there are at least 100,000 items to draw from. Notebooks, clothes, recordings, sculptures, paintings, photos, ephemera. Exhibitions will change and rotate. It was a bit mind-blowing.

I had some emotional business to take care of as well. I always promised myself if I was ever in Tulsa I would take a trip out to Sam Kinison's grave and piss on it. The plan was payback for him pissing on my bed back in the day. It’s a long story I’ve told many times. Anyway, I went to the grave and found myself forgiving the guy for terrorizing me when I was 22. I actually was able to put the amazing things that happened back then into context and let go of the horror. Still alive.

Today we did something we’ve never done on a regular episode day. I reposted a talk I had in March 2014 with Dan Vitale. Dan passed away last week and I wanted to reflect on my feelings for him and share the episode in its entirety, including the intro from the original. I wanted it to be heard as a tribute but also it was the type of talk that defined what the show became and what the show is at its best. I really appreciated Dan. I am sad that he died.

On Thursday I talk to the Doobie Brothers, well a couple of them at least. Also, I will include a talk I had with Steven Jenkins, the director of The Bob Dylan Center. Lots of stuff. Good talks.

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

Punchy.

I’m feeling it, Folks!

The driving and the weird beds and varied pillows and strange sounds of hotels starts to wear me down a little. I’m just glad that generally, even if I’m only in town one night, I can register and remember where the bathroom is in each room before I crash. It's good to know when you’re a man over 50. Plan ahead. Don’t fall down. Don’t walk into a wall. Don’t die.

I’m not complaining, but I’m getting a little punchy. Sometimes that’s good for the work, sometimes it makes me a little too sensitive and defensive. Which can also be good, not for the people I direct it at, but mild bullying in a comedy show context can be funny. Even if I don’t really want to do it, I have the skills.

As much as I am tired of the context of comedy show expectations that were built into the form in the eighties, I was built during that time as well. Reactive. Ready.

This last week’s shows have been very good. Great, even. All of them. Madison, Milwaukee, Chicago and Minneapolis. My midwestern fans are the best. They know how to behave at a show. They are there to listen and laugh. They are open-hearted folks willing to go for the ride I’m providing. As much as I condescend to the ‘middle of the country’ sometimes, I really do know that there are plenty of good people there. Progressive people. Smart people. Isolated, sad people. People that need exactly the kind of show I’m doing.

I was punchy last night. I was at the Pantages Theatre in Minneapolis. Fourth show in a row of long shows. The last one of this run. It was my third time there. Lynn Shelton directed me in Too Real there and I did a show before the pandemic there as well. Seats around 900. Pretty much sold out. Sitting front and center were a middle aged couple who weren’t laughing at all. Nothing. It was really the only row I could see. Obviously, it didn’t really matter. The show was going great but I could SEE them. Nothing.

Eventually I asked if they were at the right show. Ron White was up the street, maybe they screwed up. I did an impression of the man’s face so the rest of the theatre could see what I was dealing with. Standard crowd work stuff. Big laughs. Nothing from them. Then when I talk about my typical audience, I say it’s mostly disgruntled, middle aged women and whoever they bring to the show who sit there saying, ‘So, this is the guy you like, huh?’ That made him laugh. That was the situation. Then back to nothing.

I have a bit of a break from comedy this week. I’m going to Tulsa to shoot an episode of Reservation Dogs. I’m very excited. I am sorry I had to reschedule my Dynasty Typewriter shows. Another time. I’m in LA a lot. There’s plenty of opportunity to see me.

Today I talk to skateboarding legend Tony Hawk. I knew nothing about skateboarding. It didn’t matter. On Thursday I talk to film director Nicole Holofcener about her movies and writing. Great talks.

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

Some Great Stuff.

Back for a few days, Folks!

I am out in it. 

It’s good to be home for a few days. I have to ground myself. I have to work off the meat and pudding. I have to connect with my cats. I have to cook some food. I have to talk to some people. Then I have to leave again. 

I guess I haven’t written since I was in NYC. Well, I did some shit.

I appeared on The Tonight Show and I had a great time. I actually get excited to talk to Jimmy because he’s excitable. It’s a weird grind he’s in. I knew I could wake him up. If I was really focused and kept it real I’d get him. He’s just the kind of host you want to make laugh. I always want the audience to laugh when I do those shows but I wanted to get Jimmy going because it makes it more fun. I wanted to get him laughing for real. Like, Colbert is not a laugher, and it can be a drag to talk to him because, ostensibly, I’m there to be funny, and I can do that. I killed with Jimmy and the audience. I even talked him into setting me up for another bit after they ran the clip from The Bad Guys because I had planned a call back to the ‘old head’ bit. He didn’t know if I could make it work because it had been like 6 minutes since that bit. He told me to go for it and if it didn’t work he could cut it out. I did it. Killed. After the segment he said, ‘you know how to land it.’ I do. 

I saw the Whitney Biennial which was a mixed bag. That’s the idea though. A lot of stuff of all kinds makes a chaotic, exciting whole. I saw some great stuff. It’s always good to go to the museum. I’m a member! I think it will be an incentive to get me back to NYC more often. That and the theatre.

I saw my pal Sam Rockwell do American Buffalo with Laurence Fishburne. Great. Fast paced play. Prime Mamet. I had seen Pacino play Teach back in the day. Sam’s was less menacing which made the aggressive futility and pathos of the small-time crime undertaking at the center of the story even more pathetic and sadly funny. It was a solid production. 

I ate corned beef at Katz’s and borscht at Veselka and octopus and turbot at Kyclades. Full trip. 

I did the Paramount Theatre in Austin for the Moontower Festival. It was an amazing show. Alejandro Escovedo came to the show and I got to meet him. I love his music. 

I went to Opies. I ate ribs and brisket and sausage and cobbler and banana pudding. I’m still sweating. 

This week I will be in Madison, Milwaukee, Chicago and Minneapolis. Come. 

I will probably be canceling two if not all three of my Dynasty Typewriter shows next week so I can go film an episode of ‘Reservation Dogs’ because it’s an amazing show and I want to be part of it. I will make it up to you if you have tickets. I am sorry. 

I am one of the stars of the movie that is #1 at the box office. The Bad Guys is a hit. I’m thrilled. It’s a nice thing to be part of. 

Today I talk to Vanessa Bayer about her teenage cancer and her funniness and her new show I Love That For You and on Thursday I talk to Trombone Shorty about New Orleans, the trombone and music in general. Great talks. 

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,

Maron

Neural Canals.

Roading it, Folks.

New England, again.

It’s been great. I really don’t know why this tour is somehow revelatory to me personally. I think it’s the car time. The moving meditation of driving the familiar interstates. Seeing the almost-Springness of the eastern states. The crisp air and cataloging my past through memories attached to the geography.

I’ve talked about it before but I continue to look at my experiences as a young comic as somewhat traumatic. Paying my dues. I don’t regret any of it but it’s very hard for me to picture myself at that age doing the shows I was doing. Going up cold in non-comedy club situations for half hour opening slots and just doing the thing for locals out for a comedy night or surprised by it happening. The true terror of all of that and rising above it. Sure, it made me stronger but the cortisol and adrenaline and fury of it all definitely jacked my neural canals and created a shield.

Now, for fleeting moments, I can get under that shield and try to feel that terror again and what may have been beneath it and what drove me to do it and keep doing it. I cant answer that. I only know I did and I do.

I think that’s why I may be insisting on being my own opener. Going up cold and letting the show unfold. Now, with years of experience and the fearlessness that comes from that I can give that terrified kid from the past a break. Take in the excitement of going up cold and easing into it as a pro. Let the pathways reconfigure and ease and make it right for the old me. The me that was only thinking about getting that first laugh. The jarring transition from off stage onto the stage. Or onto a platform in the corner of a bar or the front of a hotel conference room or a dancefloor. The wild vulnerability of that. Taking that hit. Damn. Glad I can show up for the angry, terrified kid.

It’s been a great run. Every show. Tarrytown, Providence and Boston. I’m writing this the day of the Maine show. I did two shows at the Wilbur in Boston and both were almost two hours long. They were great for me. Returning back to the town where it started and going up cold and confident and excited. Revelatory.

I even know that two hours is unnecessary and too long actually. Some people had enough at an hour and half. Fuck it. It could always be the last time.

Today I talk to director Robert Eggers about his films The VVitch, The Lighthouse and his new one, The Northman. On Thursday I talk to the creator of The Bad Guys children’s books, Aaron Blabey. Great talks.

Enjoy!

Boomer, LaFonda and Monkey live!

Love,
Maron

Old Faces.

The Comedy Store, People!

It was the 50th anniversary of The Comedy Store last week. There was a party. The vortex was opened.

I don’t know if I can explain the current that I locked into at The Comedy Store but it is real. It connected the day I walked into the place when I was 22. I became a doorman there. The combination of bad boundaries, anger, undefined sense of self, nebulous parenting, desire to be funny and cocaine made me vulnerable to all the ghosts that had passed through that place. They knew I would be among them eventually and chose to light me up. Just reading that last sentence makes me realize it's very easy to tap into the mystical chaos that my mind manufactured as I slowly devolved into cocaine psychosis. It was kinda real though. As real as most things that have to pass through the head to be understood however any particular head is going to understand those things at any particular time. There were no cell phones. My imagination was richer and more menacing.

Now, understand, I am at The Comedy Store most nights of the week now if I’m in town. There was a dark, haunting, mystical tone that I felt in the place for years. No more. Oddly, I think it’s gone in a general sense. I am not the only one that felt that. There are others like me. The comics that belong there. That shit was real.

In terms of comedy, when I was a doorman, I lived at the place. It was my whole life for almost a year. I was absorbing. My brain was wide open. Sadly, a lot of dark weirdness got in there. It helped at the time and maybe even now but it was a lot to process. It took years. Most of the people I saw there were comics people don’t really know. Whatever my judgement of them was at the time doesn’t matter. They were doing what I wanted to be doing and it was all electric to me. Obviously, being under the mentorship of Sam Kinison made me prematurely bitter and very weird. I loved it though until it went bad and I had to leave quickly, get my passport renewed and stay ahead of the ghosts and dark forces (and get sober).

All that said, I was excited to go to the party. I didn’t know who would be there. It turns out not many of the big stars, either current or past, showed up. It was a lot of the working comics who were regularly on stage when I was a doorman and general staff, past and present. Joey Camen, Joey Gaynor, Steve Mittlemen, Cathy Ladman, Barry Sobel, Larry Scarano and Barry Sobel to name a few. I don’t think anyone has been as excited to see Joey Camen as I was, maybe ever. All the old faces just lit me up. It was like I was on coke working the door again. I was a twitching appendage of the place that grew me, part of me. The beginning of me as a comedian.

Bill Kinison was there. I can see and feel his crazy brother in the way he talked and laughed. I have fairly conflicted feelings about my time with Sam. In the end he was a monster but it was exciting and wild and I got a little of that juice from his old ass brother. Wild.

The highlight of the night in terms of interaction and comedy had to come when I asked a server a question. All the hors d'oeuvres were classic Jewish food. Potato pancakes, knishes, little bagels and lox, tiny bites of pastrami sandwich, etc. I wanted to know where they were from, what caterer. So I asked a woman who was holding a tray of the little pastrami sandwich pieces, “Where are these from?” She looked at me and like someone who just learned something hours before said, “They’re Jewish!”

Hilarious. She clearly wasn’t.

Today I talk to the amazing Bonnie Raitt about music. Thursday I talk to the amazing Harvey Fierstein about his memoir. Great talks!

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

Connected for Real.

Georgia, Folks!

The show in Georgia was full. The crowd was great. I was a little shaky. The quadruple macchiato an hour before the show didn’t help. 

It’s always weird to me to feel like that on stage but it’s what I do. No matter how ‘crafted’ my bits are I can't really fake it up there. I felt a little frazzled in Atlanta for some reason. 

I’ve chosen to open for myself. Another way of looking at it is that I am just doing a full show. An engaged 1.5 hours-ish theatrical event. It’s not Blue Man Group but it's close. The Atlanta show was the first show where I held the show for fifteen and when I went out there people were still getting to their seats. I literally had to do an opening set to get the place settled which meant a bit of crowd work and I scrambled a few of the first bits just trying to get the room focused. It kind of bummed me out and started the show off on a looser footing than I like and created a tone. I also felt like I saw too many people. It wasn’t dark enough in the crowd and I have a weird habit of focusing on individuals which I feel is odd. It must be a lot of pressure for them. 

The good part of a show like that is that it’s very intimate and hands on. If I feel like I don’t have my footing I generally stay up there longer and do everything I can to connect in a way that is satisfying to ME. The people got a great show. I’m not sure I did. It kind fucked my head up a bit. It made me a little emotionally tired. I started to question my process. An hour and forty-five minutes is a long time to stay as engaged as I am when I do comedy. I'm definitely not going from laugh to laugh as my focus. I want to feel connected for real. Ridiculous. I should just do my act.

My brother came up from Florida with his GF who has family there. So, I got to hang out with him which was nice. Catch up. Do the brother thing. 

The hotel I stayed at was nice enough but I do have a problem with what seems to be a trend with hotels these days. Especially boutique or hip style hotels. I think they should be up front about it. If the hotel turns into a fucking nightclub on the weekends to the point where every room in the place is shaking with bass beat, we should know going in. When you are booking a room, on the site, it should say something like, ‘This room is directly under our rooftop bar which will be blasting hip-hop all day Saturday until midnight and your room will literally shake.  So, if you are too old to appreciate that or you need to get some sleep because you have an early flight, this might not be the place for you, old man.’ Something like that would be helpful. 

Considering my introspective mindset it was probably better off. There’s something about hotel rooms. Even if I’m there only one night, there’s a darkness possible. I assume it's common. It might even have a name like ‘Hotel Room Affective Disorder.’ A deep depression that comes over you once you climb into bed in a hotel room. It doesn’t last generally. So, the pounding bass and tinkling glasses and laughter and chatting was not helping. I couldn’t sleep AND there was part of me that was thinking why am I not up there partying, man. I don’t know how to live.  It was also good though, because I wouldn’t feel comfortable going up to the roof to jump off when everyone was having such a good time.

Jk. I’m ok.

Today I talk to comedian Adam Ray. I work with him a lot at the Comedy Store. Funny guy. Good guy. On Thursday I talk to someone I have been in two movies and a TV series with and I’ve never met her, Zazie Beetz. Good talks!

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,

Maron

A Lonely Molar.

Oral surgery, People!

Not great. I think the procedure went fine. They had to rip a tooth out of my head.  A dead molar with a crown on it. An old root canal was rotting. 

I am very glad I decided to be out of it during the process. It would’ve been a fucking nightmare to be awake for. I walked to the dentist's office at six in the morning. They sat me in the chair and laid out the most nightmarish tray of tools. I couldn’t even imagine what some of them did. They hit me with an IV and I went out. I felt like I was half awake here and there. Enough to know that there was also a local anesthetic at work as well. Numb. 

When I came to, Kit was there to pick me up. I was in the come down room, as I’m going to call it. When you’ve been sober as long as I have you have to really appreciate a freebie. I had a good buzz on from the anesthesia. I was waiting in that room totally relaxed and loopy. Kit came in and sat with me. Then the doctor came in to tell me what I needed to do. He gave me gauze, and told me how and what I could eat. I was barely listening. All I was thinking was this guy is a buzzkill. I hope Kit is getting all this because I’m just going to enjoy my high. 

So, now I have a lonely molar in the back of my mouth with no buddy and a hole. I guess it’s a waiting game until I get the implant. See how the graft grows. 

I was given a prescription for some pain killers. Like, the good stuff. Again, as a sober guy, a freebie is always welcome. Sadly, I was only in enough pain to take one once. Now, I have to get them out of my house. I’m okay. Seriously. 

Today I talk to Flea about being Flea and the RHCP. On Thursday I have a great talk with Guy Torry about the evolution of Phat Tuesdays and its impact on Black show business and his new doc about it. Great talks. 

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,

Maron

The Respite of Denial.

Live Rock, People!

I went to see Gang of Four the other night. 

I don’t think we’re past Covid but we are certainly in the ‘fuck it’ period of the pandemic. The pause between surges. The respite of denial that enables us to reconnect, even temporarily. We’ll see. 

People talk about how they will have to get reacclimated to crowds or being in an audience. After being in the mix for months, I can say with confidence, it will come right back to you. It’s what people do. People like and need to be around other people. A gathering of humans can be a beautiful thing. It can also be the worst thing ever. It was a good thing the other night. 

I am not the biggest Gang of Four fan but I do love that sound they make. When the frontman Jon King came out I was a little concerned. He looked like an old man. Then I realized that we all do. When he started singing and doing that frontman thing, he was lit up. All those movements he did when he was a young man jangling those old bones were landing. He sounded great. The band sounded great. That guitar sound is aggressive and dirty. I loved it. 

We left before the encore and before all the people and walked down Sunset and grabbed a couple slices. 

I tracked down the Keef beanies. All of you heard my obsession with the hats Keith Richards has been wearing and my need to track them down. I did a bunch of my own searching before I talked to him. Bought a few. When they arrived, they clearly weren’t the right ones. I needed the exact ones or I wouldn’t be as cool as Keith, obviously. So, I asked him directly and kept pushing. I pestered his reps. One of whom got back to me basically saying here is the brand now shut up already. 

I went to the site of the brand. It was Elder Statesmen. It’s based here in LA but I still ordered online because I didn’t realize at that moment it was here. Of course they were expensive. They are hand knit cashmere hats. Pricey. I was in too deep not to get one and had to buy two. I got the exact blue one he has, I believe. They didn’t have the yellow one but they had the style so I got one that was a different color anyway. Now I have them. I might not ever wear them but I have them. Mission accomplished. It was the same reason I bought my first guitar. Keef had a Tele, I needed a Tele. Now I have the hats and the Tele and I’m still not as cool as Keef. 

That’s how hero worship works. You think it’s the hat for a minute. 

Today I talk to Jeff Foxworthy about standup comedy. I worked one of my first paid weeks as a comic with Jeff back in the eighties. It was good to catch up. On Thursday I talk to Sam Jay about me thinking she didn’t want to talk to me and other things. Great talks!

Enjoy.

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,

Maron

Snow.

Snow, Folks. 

Snow. 

It had been a while since I had actually seen snow. I still kind of took it for granted like it was no big deal. It isn’t, really. I have seen a lot of it in my life. I just hadn’t seen it in a few years and I wanted to make sure I really took it in. I enjoyed the crisp, cold air on my face, the stinging wind, the trying not to slip in the wrong kind of shoes, the hoping my brakes don’t lock up and I lose control of the rental car. 

I knew the snow was coming. I panicked I wouldn’t be able to get home to record the intro stuff for today’s show. I’m typing this on the plane. So, if you get this, I made it. 

Let’s back up. I flew into NYC last Tuesday night. I got off the plane and rented a car and drove to New Haven. Crashed. Woke up and went to the Yale Art Gallery. Then went and ate way too much pizza with Dean Falcone and his crew at Pepe’s. Clam, White, Margarita, Sausage and another kind. Then, Italian pastry. Then, shame. Then, eating to not feel the shame. But wait…

I did a show in New Haven that first night. It was great. Many people on this run of shows hadn’t been out to do anything since the plague. They were excited, giddy even. The next morning I drove across the countryside to Troy, NY to perform at The Music Hall. That place is special. Built in the 1800s. Perfect acoustics. You can feel the age of the place but it’s still alive. I did one of the best shows of my life there. The next day I drove to Mass MOCA in North Adams and blew my mind on art for a few hours. Truly blew my mind.

The amazing thing about Mass MOCA is the exhibits are mostly installations. Artists work with the space to create art that only exists to live in that space. It’s the pure stuff. There is a lot there that seems to be fairly permanent that I had seen the last time I was there years ago. The James Turrell retrospective was elevating. 

I drove from there to Laconia, New Hampshire. It was during that drive I had the flashbacks. I had started my career as a working comic in the late '80s driving to one nighters all over the New England region. As I drove those roads they became the neural pathways that lead back to the trauma of driving alone into the unknown as a younger man and the further down the road I drove, the more I knew that the gig would be terrible or at the very least hard. It all came back to me. The panic, the fear, the anger. As I approached Laconia, I was in full spiral. I was thinking how did I come full circle? How am I driving these roads to unknown shows again? How the fuck did my agent find this place? 

It was a great show at the Colonial Theater in Laconia. Great crowd. 

The following morning I left at 6am to try to get ahead of a snow storm that I knew was coming for days. I started to worry I would be snowed in when I got to Vermont. I did get ahead but it was raining and about two hours into the drive the snow started coming down. It was beautiful. By the time I got to Burlington I was driving very slow. They let me check into the hotel early. I had breakfast with Hari Kondabolu and Mohanad Elshieky. They were working the comedy club there. The snow was coming down all day. I didn’t know if it would keep people away but it didn’t. I did an almost two-hour show at The Flynn Center. Great crowd again. 

I slept for about three hours and dropped the rental off and got the 6am flight to Chicago. Then onto LA. 

Great trip. I feel disgusting. 

Today I’m posting a new short conversation I had with Keith Richards AND the old long talk I had with him in 2015. Because…why not? It’s Keef. On Thursday I talk to Oscar-nominee Ariana Debose about her life and dance and West Side Story. Great talks. 

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,

Maron 

The Loud Quiet.

Watching the water, People. 

This may be a journal entry. 

I drove up to San Luis Obispo with my opener, Esther Povitsky. There’s a point where the water, the Pacific Ocean, just appears on the left side of the road driving north. It’s immediately relieving. The expanse, the space. Something gives in the mind. It’s natural. It's necessary. 

I have a hard time keeping my eyes on the road. I just want to look at the horizon line between water and sky. 

I don’t think anyone looks at the ocean and says, ‘This is bullshit.’

As I write this I’m sitting in a balcony room facing the ocean. I stood out there for a few minutes. It may be the only way to check in with who you are. Solitary, with the sound of the breaking waves. The loud quiet. It’s a good alone. Spread the mind out, way out, beyond all of the yous. 

As futility settles on the world spinning into a time without us and chaos and disaster become inevitable seemingly on all levels, the only peace attainable is peace of mind. If you have it, even for a few minutes, you may see a way out. A way to help. A way to a clarity of perception that may encourage acceptance without fear. Coming from that place is where purpose lives. 

All that said, wrestling with myself on stage, which is what I do, is my current purpose, I guess. I did a show at Largo the other night that may have been the best show of my life in terms of freedom of mind and magical connections in the moment. The Great Nothing delivering the line to a fearless mind in a split second where a laugh can save a life or a moment. Good time. 

The show last night in San Luis Obispo was intense. There was a huge platform stage that I assume was set up for Taj Mahal the following night. The Fremont Theater is an old movie theater. Wide and set up as such. The laughs were tinny and loud. I felt myself shredding apart in moments. I hadn’t really eaten all day. So, my hold on myself and the audience was raw and tenuous. It felt like a lot was on the line in moments. Just a show. Nothing really on the line except what I was self-generating in my mind in relation to what I think of me.  

Today I have a kind of bouncing off the walls talk with my old friend Caroline Rhea. On Thursday, if everything goes as planned, I will talk to comic and former SNL writer Mike O'Brien.

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,

Maron

Probably Good He Quit Comedy.

People!

I made a quick trip home. Went to look at some property and also to see my father. Sadly, every time I go back I feel a little less connected. I think I may have eaten my last helping of carne adovada. It happened in San Francisco with a burrito. Now it happened with the red chile and pork. I guess I get so excited and my expectations are so high that I get let down, all the way down, to the bottom.

I’ve bottomed out.

It’s not a Mexican food thing. I just can’t have magical thinking around any food anymore. More foods will fall. It will be better for me to be realistic. Girl Scout cookies are out as well but it took like 50 of them eaten in a short time span for me to hit that wall.

I spent a lot of time with my father. He’s great for an hour and then he starts to drift. I’m glad I’m showing up for him. No matter how cynical I am, it’s really just a defense from the fact that I’m losing my father slowly and dark comedy is my way of dealing.

It’s strange what it takes to have hope in people and the world but I’m not alone in my respect for and amazement in President Zelensky of Ukraine. It takes a violent attack by an authoritarian country on a fledgling democracy to amplify the courage he's shown in the face of global fascism. The fact that it is specifically rooted in his Jewishness makes it even more moving and important. The reaction to it here in the United States has further revealed and exposed the fascist sympathizers in our own government and those who aspire to gain power within it and/or regain power.

He is a global hero and it’s a real display of bravery. It's inspiring. It’s probably good he quit comedy.

Today I talk to the very charming and ever-present Sam Elliott about the '70s through now and a bit before. On Thursday I have a powerful, raw talk with Mira Sorvino about what she’s been through and where she is now. Great talks.

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

Ghost Portal.

The Bay Area, People!

I always forget that San Francisco kind of gives me the creeps. Not the people or even the city per se. There’s just a vibe up there, maaaan. An electric darkness.

Before I try to figure that out, I do want to say that the shows were great. The show at the Uptown Theater in Napa was a blast. It’s a great theater. I’m not sure what is going on up there in Napa but I don’t think it’s much. Not in a bad way. I assume that’s why people live there.

I went into a thrift shop and they had records. I picked a few out and took them up to the counter. One didn’t have a price tag. So, one of the women that owned the place had to track down the woman who was in charge of the records. It looked like it might take a while to figure out if the Mary McCaslin record I wanted was 16 dollars or around ten which is what I thought it should be. At some point it didn’t look like they were going to track the record lady down so they reached out to her boyfriend and told him to find her. A lot of action around a ten dollar record. The woman behind the counter asked if I would be around tomorrow. I said, ‘No.’ I didn’t care about the record that much. I wasn’t going to stay the night. I guess that is sort of the pace up there.

They eventually tracked the record lady down. It was eight bucks. I knew it. A bargain. And I didn’t have to get a hotel room.

I hadn’t been in San Francisco in a long time. I lived there years ago. I think I may not realize the effect of what I went through there on my psyche in terms of the residual effect when I visit. I ran to SF. I was running away from drugs and failure in NYC. I was a mess. I went to SF to throw myself down at the mercy of a woman. She took me back and I wrestled with drugs and career stuff for two years in the weirdness of SF. Rough time.

SF is a chaotic, nebulous place built on a spiritual fault line. A crack that releases the ghosts that occupied the city at different times during its history. They keep the weirdness going. The dark crackling hum that has run through the time of the psychedelic warriors and the tech nerds and sexual revolutionaries and dock weirdos and the prospectors and witches. They’re always kind of around.

All of that triggers my own instability from the time I was there. Lost. At the mercy of the ghost frequency. Of course this is just a theory.

I tried to go back in time with my buddy Jack. We went and got a forearm-sized burrito in the Mission. Like the old days. Half way through it I knew it would be the last burrito I would ever eat in my lifetime. Like a bad night with tequila. I was done.

Kevin Christy opened for me up there. He’s a comic and painter. He knows a lot about art. I’m no slouch but he got me to go to SFMOMA and introduced me to the work of Tauba Auerbach. It was a huge survey show. A lot of stuff. A lot of mediums. Genius. Truly. Brain bending. The good waves at the edge of the ghost portal. Wrangling the deep stuff.

Down in the Mission I went and stood in front of my old apartment. Thought about the chaotic mad guy that lived there once. Me. Trying to figure out how to be who he was. I closed the circle looking up at the bay window I sat and looked out of.

Today I talk to Andy Garcia. Good guy, great actor. On Thursday I talk to W. Kamau Bell about his new doc We Need to Talk About Cosby. Great talks.

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron