The Great Joke Churn in Space.

On the road again, Folks

I’m punchy.

Lost the hour on Sunday (the day I’m writing this) and only got 5 hours sleep. Drove down to Tarrytown jammed on DD coffee and Zyns. Feels like the old days. Beat. The world in active waking consciousness. Altered perception. I don’t mind it. 

Since my morning radio days I don’t really judge sleep the way most people do. I just need enough combined over time. Even if I feel whacked I know there is something interesting in moving through that perceived reality. Okay, okay. It’s kind of like being high and I just don’t get that opportunity anymore. I take it when it comes. Even though some people would just call it exhaustion. 

For all the anxiety I put myself through before I do these runs, I like being out here. Untethered from my day to day. Flying and driving and talking and walking in another city in a car. Out of the patterns. Once I get to a hotel I seem to relax in a way I can't at home. Focus. Organize the thoughts, slow them down. Do the work. 

After all the development of new bits in the smaller rooms and theaters it’s hard to know what I actually have until I do a few in a row and see how it all fits together in front of hundreds of people. Finding the spaces to riff in between, follow through ideas. Talk about the town I’m in or the audience I’m with or new thoughts being delivered from the great joke churn in space. This is the work but I guess this is also the joy of what I do. 

The shows have been truly great. Portland, Maine was crisp and smelled like the ocean. The State Theatre is a solid venue. The people seemed ready. Boston was awesome. I played a venue I hadn’t played before in Medford. Sold out 1600 seats. The room was warm and the laughs rolled in from the back. Providence was gritty. The venue was an old theater gutted of any soul and turned into a rock club. The audience felt like people huddled together in a large space taking shelter from a storm. Well, they actually were doing that. It was raining, but isn’t that how we all feel when we are in a group of like minded people craving relief from the chaos and gathering clouds of the great breaking apart that is upon us? That's my people. 

So, good shows. 

I lucked out with my opener Clare O’Kane. I didn’t know her but she’s smart and dirty funny and a good traveling companion. There was a lot of talking about all the stuff: music, movies, relationships, food, mental illness. We covered most of it. The shit. 

There were a few revelations out there this trip. I’ll let you know what they were when I’ve implemented them into my wiring. 

I’ve been out of the boot since Monday and I’m nervous to walk on my own foot which the doctor told me I should do. I guess being aware is fine. I just don’t hope I’m not going to be afraid to exercise for the rest of my life. Maybe it’s okay to slow down. 

Today I talk to Thurston Moore about NYC in the seventies and the rock and roll he kind of invented. On Thursday, Todd Glass is back and he’s excited. 

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

The Elusive Simplicity.

I guess I’m stuck, People.

Stuck in me. I think that’s what’s going on. I know I talk about it a lot, one way or the other. It’s just odd to me. 

No matter how open my mind is, or what I let into it, I still land in a familiar place. I guess that’s the nature of whatever self we’ve constructed through whatever means. I mean, I can learn new things and integrate new ideas and enjoy new things but that doesn’t mean I return to them. They have some effect, they inform my ongoing intellectual narrative, but it’s sort of amazing what is dug in, wired. 

I’m being broad. This idea is expansive. It’s all relative to what I really want out of my life as I get older. Taking stock. That is in constant relation to the shit coming down the pike that we will all have to reckon with, toxic politics, unlivable weather, age and death. What do I owe you? What do I owe myself? What is stupid ego? What is sickness? What is the fucking point?

I stifle myself, my talent. I know there are things I could do that would bring me some form of release and freedom and maybe joy. I avoid them out of fear of a type of vulnerability that I think would implode me. And now I’m older. Again, I know this is vague, but maybe someone can relate. 

Outside of my general thoughts on all levels about myself and life and the things that I seem to like to do, or more likely the things I’ve just gotten used to doing, I know there’s a whole world out there and I do take it in. Despite that I somehow land back in myself. I have souvenirs from the excursion, a new knowledge of a new thing but I guess I just like what I like. Everything else is just something I try a few times to see what happens. 

What is sparking this topic today? I’ll tell you. The new cover of Lou Reed’s ‘I’m Waiting for My Man’ by Keith Richards. I love Lou, the Velvets, the Stones, even though I missed most of the best output by both bands by years. I just love Keith. I don’t really care about the new stuff by the Stones. I haven’t for years. Other than the blues record ‘Blue and Lonesome.’ Mick Jagger annoys me. 

Keith is another thing. The fact that he just continues to be interesting and cool to me is baffling. I think its because of his life long giving of zero fucks. He does what he wants and he’s certainly an elder statesman of something, primarily his Keefness. The fact that his zero fuckness spawned a good part of modern rock and roll and whether or not the punks and rockers that came after give him props doesn’t matter. His sloppy, raw, dangerous crunch riffing is timeless. 

I love The Velvet Underground. Lou and the Velvets also spawned generations of a different type of rock but they aren’t that different. I feel that Lou owes a bit to the Stones. The fact that Keith was kind of ground zero for bad boy rock life and he’s the last man standing is awesome somehow. Him paying respect to Lou just makes sense and it’s a song about buying dope. Keef is the dark oracle of rock and roll joy these day. He never shuts up or stops and it’s beautiful. 

I watched the video of the cover four or five times and then I went down some YouTube rabbit hole that took me to a video of the Stones performing ‘Midnight Rambler’ at The Marquee Club in London in ’71. Keith was ragged, near death seemingly. I watched and played along with it probably six or seven times. Trying to figure out the elusive simplicity of his menacing rhythm. A lifetime project. 

I’ve been listening to that song since junior high and it always gets me. 

I guess it’s just part of who I am. There’s plenty of room for new things but it just won’t ever match those feelings for that song. It’s okay.

Today I talk to Australian actor Ben Mendelsohn about his life and work. He’s one of the best. Wednesday we have an Oscar special with bits from all this year’s nominees on the show. On Thursday I talk to comedian Rory Scovel about life and his funny new special. 

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

A Diminishing Resource.

Here we go, Folks

That's how I start the day. It’s the first thing I say. I guess not all the time. Sometimes, when I wake up, I think, ‘Surprise!’ 

It’s difficult to keep existential panic at bay. There’s a balance to it. I think I have lived my life so engaged and focused and compulsive about what I do that I missed a lot of what life is about. Now that I’m on the other side of a lot of that momentum, some psychological, spiritual and emotional space is opening up. My default is, ‘Why not fill it with fear?’ Another part of my brain thinks, ‘Why bother doing anything?’ Then the strongest voice chimes in with, ‘What the fuck do we do now?’

I’m a bit worn out. Some of my patterns are tired. I’ve worked hard. I have lived the life of an emotionally stunted, childless grown-up for many decades. Before that I was just an emotionally  immature adult. Before that I was 15. 

Whatever my shortcomings are and were, I am highly aware of them now and know that I am in a strange grown-up class of people, the ones who didn’t take the common route of creating a family and the responsibilities around that. What do I have to share from that point of view that I haven’t already?

Can I still grow? Most likely, yes. Is there a new path for me? Probably. How do I find the time to really sit with myself on purpose? 

I know I say this every year, but I feel like this tour I’m doing may be, if not the last, the last of its kind in relation to me. Somehow I have to learn to express myself from a place that’s less visceral and directly related to my life and thoughts about my life. My life has remained kind of unchanged in many ways for a very long time. Things happen, some bad, some good, but the position of me in the world and me in my body and mind has been relatively constant for years. It has to shift. 

The mind and the body are begging to break down a little bit. Not just physically, but there’s a letting go that seems to want to happen now. Ego doesn’t like letting go. So, I’m in negotiations with it to enable it and not fall apart completely. That would be bad. 

I’ve been out in Albuquerque spending time with my father for a few days. He has dementia and has been slowly detaching. He knows me, for now. I spent many hours with him in a row. More than usual. Initially he seems to put a lot of energy into engaging and believing he’s okay. Then, by evening, he’s just kind of detached. I imagine it’s exhausting. It’s not a front but those hours of engagement are a diminishing resource for him. 

I still prod around in his mind for bits and pieces that are now available without a filter. They provide insight into him but usually they are also insights into myself. Keys to the traits that we both share. Helpful but a bit horrible in ways. I see where some of them got him. 

I’ve always been aware of most of the similarities but there's poetry to expressions from a senile mind. It’s concise and to the point. 

I also talked to an old friend I grew up with. We are around the same age and both hyper-aware of where we are in our lives. We were able to reflect on it a bit but also express the surprise of it in a way. We both knew it was coming but now it’s here and who are we now. It’s kind of mind blowing. It didn’t happen all of a sudden but somehow it feels like it snuck up on us slowly and pounced. 

I’m just reflecting and thinking aloud here without much direction. 

I am ok. 

Today I talk to Lily Gladstone and I have to say it was amazing. It felt like an honor. She just holds that kind of space. On Thursday I talk to comedian Mae Martin which was surprising in that we have a lot in common. I didn’t assume that would be the case but it definitely was. Good week. 

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

Old Business.

Time, People!

Time is racing by. It seems to go faster when you get older. 

I’m not complaining. I’m just trying to get a sense of what’s real, what’s fantasy and what’s delusion in relation to who I think I am. Getting right-sized is what they call it in the recovery racket. 

I’m tired. In my bones. I’ve been working mostly non-stop for almost forty years. Things worked out. I am grateful. Things aren’t perfect, but are they ever? I am hobbled in many ways. 

There are certain ways of thinking I have had since I was a kid. Patterns. The way I conceived of what success is and was. Where I saw myself. What I saw myself doing. What I wanted professionally, personally. In some ways I have fallen short. I made a lot of mistakes. Certain parts of me haven’t evolved or grown, some things have. 

Lately, for some reason, age most likely, I have been confronted with who I am because of reactions I have had and plans I have made. I know time is running out. On a lot of levels. Both of my parents are still alive and the age gap between us is tightening up. It’s odd. 

I’ve realized that there are things I have wanted since I was younger and the intensity of the desire hasn’t really changed. I thought about living in New York recently with the idea that it would be a great place to get old. I would be swept up by the energy of the city. I would hang out with friends all the time. Go to museums, shows, theatre. It would keep me engaged and alive. Then I realized that when I lived there as a younger person I hardly did any of that. I don’t even really like doing comedy in the city anymore. 

The truth is when I was younger I thought it was a huge sign of success to have a place in LA and NYC. That meant you made it. Maybe if I was 40 it would apply but I’m long past it. Fantasy Marc was holding on to the idea. He has a lot of ideas. I have to let him go. 

Real Marc likes a quiet place. 

In terms of delusion, comparing myself to other comics was just part of the competitive nature of the game. The truth is, despite what I thought about wanting to be a great comic, one of the best, I just thought by telling my truth in a funny way would do it. Look, I’m big enough, but I had big expectations and ideas of what I deserved. This isn’t coming from a place of self pity, it’s coming from a place of profound insecurity that morphs and manifests in all kinds of ways. It’s an almost complete lack of self acceptance. 

Delusions are kind of necessary to have when you are younger and trying to do something ridiculous with your life. How else can you find the strength?

Now the delusions just reaffirm the insecurity. There is no purpose for them. It’s all twisted ego stifling real growth. I have to let them go to find peace, if possible. 

Emotionally I’m dumb and young and a bit self-centered. I can show up for people and help out and be a pretty efficient co-dependent but in terms of really opening my heart in intimate relationships it’s always been just too terrifying. Crippled by bad parenting. Again, that fear is old business, but it's hard to overcome and sad and because of it I’ve hurt myself emotionally and others. 

Somehow I have to let that fear go. 

Tough stuff, this getting old business. I know people say it’s never too late. That may be true, but only if you want it to be and you feel like the risk is worth it. 

I don’t feel empty. I just feel stuck, chronically. Awareness is coming it seems. 

Today I talk to Mark Ruffalo and it was great. Good guy. He struggles with stuff. We relate. We have an added episode with America Ferrera on Wednesday which is a pretty amazing success story. On Thursday I have a very thorough talk with Rodrigo Prieto about his cinematography for the films Barbie and Killers of the Flower Moon and many others. 

Big week!

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

An Internal Game.

No football for me, People.

I didn’t watch the Super Bowl. Not because I have anything against it. I’m just totally not interested in any of it. It’s not even on my radar. Right now all I know about the Super Bowl is that Taylor Swift is dating a guy on one of the teams and that seems to upset a certain type of person. I’m all for that. 

It was not enough to get me to watch the game. 

To be honest I don’t think I’ve ever watched a Super Bowl. 

I’ve talked about it before, but sports are just not something I have ever connected with. I know it's more of a social event but I’m starting to realize that the few friends I have in the world, the ones in LA, are not really into them either. Or they just didn’t invite me to the party. I couldn’t have gone anyway. I had two interviews yesterday. 

I get the social event. I’m sure many of you spent time making interesting snacks that you learned about on IG. Dips and whatnot. I’m sure many of you drank too much. I’m sure many of you didn’t even really pay attention to the game. I understand all that. I’m sure it was fun. Maybe I’m jealous but I don’t think so. 

I wouldn’t be a good Super Bowl party guest. 

I think I did develop some judgement of the event around the time that the Super Bowl commercial became something culturally exciting. It was also a coveted gig in show business if you could land one. 

So, along with football, which I’m not interested in, it’s a celebration of commercials. Which is weird and off-putting. I mean I’ve liked a few commercials in my life but I never looked forward to them. 

I wish I liked sports. It would have given me a healthier sense of self if I knew how to win and lose without it feeling like an ego death or a life-diminishing proposition. So now I’m just left with the petty competitiveness of life through jealousy and feeling left out. It’s harder to win at those sports because it’s an internal game with no victors and the rules are unclear. It’s a waste of time and there are no prizes other than learning how to rise above the game and act like a fucking adult. Maybe if I loved sports I could’ve displaced some of that. 

I did win today though. Just saying. 

Today I find out if I need surgery on my foot. I have done all that I was supposed to do. Slept in the boot, showered with it on, dealt with the smell. The doc said the break was in a difficult place and the tendons may keep pulling the bone apart. I’m nervous because I don’t know what surgery would mean and how that would affect my life in terms of recovery. The doc said I have a 65 percent shot at healing without surgery. 

I hope I win this one. I hope I’m in that 65 percent. 

Today I talk to Ed Zwick about his life directing and producing movies. On Thursday I talk to Da’Vine Joy Randolph about her interesting journey to being nominated for an Oscar. Great talks. 

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

Take Me Back.

San Fran again, People!

I drove up to San Francisco on Friday. I’m here as I write this. 

I figured with my bum foot that maybe I shouldn’t be schlepping a bag and hobbling through the long corridors of two airports. It’s a 5-6 hour run. I’ve done it many times. It was actually very therapeutic. 

The trip from Southern to Northern Cali on I-5 can be pretty tedious but because of all the rains it was beautiful. There was no dust hanging in the air like a mist of sludge and there was a light green coat on even the most barren of terrain. The air was crisp and clear. 

When I drive I rarely listen to anything, music or talking. I just think. I used to listen to music to get through long drives but now I just do the thinking. Sometimes festering, sometimes cycling thoughts or spiraling, something just meditative and engaging impulsive thoughts that sometimes become bits. These days I do a lot of reflecting. 

As I get older when I think about the past I don’t feel like it’s a nostalgic journey. It’s more like putting a puzzle together. The puzzle that got me here to who I am. New memories appear frequently. Sixty years is a long time. There’s a lot on the hard drive. Some files I haven’t opened since I made them. 

It’s all about the trauma processing and owning the bad parts of the past. 

I have mixed feelings about San Francisco. Not intellectually. When I’m up here I feel weird. It’s a weird place. I think it's one of the original American weirdo cities going back to the Gold Rush, through the Beatniks, into the hippies and gay liberation, into the city’s demise with the malignant tech bro invasion. 

I spent a couple of very impactful years here. I was fleeing NYC in a drug-addled panic that I would never get work in the city. I impulsively loaded up my car and drove across the country and showed up at my ex-girlfriend's house and begged her to take me back. She did and I lived here with her for a couple of years. 

I never really got a handle of the city and its weirdness and I definitely didn’t have a handle on myself.  It was a place that encouraged risk-taking comedy. The audiences embraced it. 

In that process of discovery and comedic development a lot of shit went down on the personal front. A lot of it embarrassing and mildly traumatic. A lot of it great. 

When I come here I tap into that old feeling of being untethered and unsure. I feel like I’m surrounded by people who have given up normalcy to embrace who they really are and want to be. A projection probably. I try to get into that spirit. 

So, I spin out a bit when I’m here, not knowing if what I do is worthy. 

Turns out it is. I did a show at the Castro Theatre and it was amazing. 

I just hope I make it home beneath the atmospheric river. 

Today I talk to my old friend and great comic Laurie Kilmartin. On Thursday John Oliver is back and we have a very funny and varied talk. 

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

Hobbled.

Broken, Folks. 

I went to San Diego for two shows Saturday night. I was concerned about the turnout for the second show but both shows ended up selling out and they were great shows, even with the pronounced limp that I was breaking in. 

I had planned to take the train. I was looking forward to it. I heard it was a pretty ride and quicker than driving. I bought tickets. 

Then the rain hit down there and took out a chunk of mountain that then took out the tracks. No train for me. I had to drive down. 

On Saturday, I planned to head out around 12:30. Give myself at least three hours. I decided to work out that morning with my trainer. I wasn’t going to but I did. I was doing some step-ups-and-downs with weights. I came down on my right foot wrong. It twisted under a bit, hard. I fell. I was Old Man Falling at Gym. I knew I fucked something up. I felt a pop. 

Took off my shoe and sock and elevated my foot. It started to swell. My trainer said I probably sprained it.  She asked if I wanted to keep working out. I said, ‘Yes’. Like I had to press on. Like it was life or death. For my country I will do shoulders. Obviously, we didn’t do any more legs. 

I was hobbled. I thought I should probably go to the doctor. There was no time though. It’s probably just a sprain. So, I made an appointment for the next morning. I drove to San Diego. I iced in between shows. I limped through two sets. I did well. 

Drove back and went directly to the doctor. I got X-rays. It’s fucking broken. Today I see if I need to get surgery. It’s a fucking nightmare. Well, more like a hassle. I don’t want to complain. I don’t feel sorry for myself. I only got mad at myself for a few minutes for working out when I wasn’t planning on it. I don’t do the shoulda woulda coulda thing. I have much more clever ways to beat the shit out of myself. That one goes nowhere. 

So, now I’m wearing a boot. I doubt I will be able to workout for weeks, maybe months. That’s a problem. I may lose my mind. 

I have to spin it to myself as a positive. More time to think. Wait. Not good. Maybe I can make it good. 

Maybe I need a rest. It will be good. I’ll read. 

Fuck. I’m going to lose my mind. I’ll keep you in the loop.

Today I have a very pleasant conversation about a life in show business with Jon Cryer. On Thursday Bobby Lee is back and we go at it in a fun way. Good times. 

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

Blue Comedy.

Filth, People.

I remember when my first HBO special came out in ’95. It was a half hour among many other half hours that HBO had done. It was my first big cable opportunity. I was happy with it. 

When it ran on HBO my grandma Goldy had friends over to watch it. She’s one of the reasons I do comedy. She loved comedy. She would tell me stories about the comics she liked to see in Vegas like Hackett, Rickles, Shecky Green. My Grandpa Jack liked comedy as well but he was more of a slapstick guy. 

In the first few minutes of my special I must’ve said fuck a dozen times for no real reason. Nerves, maybe. But I liked to say fuck. Still do. It was a habit. I guess some would argue a bad habit. Some people like to say if you do it gratuitously it loses its impact. Well placed fucks are where it’s at. Then it has power. I guess. Actually, fuck them. 

I was just dirty like that. I don’t think any of the material in that half hour is actually lurid but I do say fuck a lot. Enough for my grandmother. When I asked if she liked the special said, ‘It’s so filthy.’ 

It wasn’t. I just said fuck a lot. 

I’ve always liked dirty comedy. Especially when I was a kid listening to Cheech and Chong records or Carlin or Pryor in my room with my brother. My parents had no idea nor would they have cared. It felt exciting to hear dirty ideas and dirty words. It was amazing. We couldn’t believe it. It blew our minds. 

When I started doing comedy there were plenty of guys doing dirty jokes. That was just a thing, always. There weren’t that many people doing first person experiential dirty jokes or stories that I can remember. It was a specific thing. When I came to LA and was immersed in the filth of Sam Kinison I realized the power of it. The menace. It could be done smartly. As I moved through the worlds of comedy and became familiar with people like Bill Hicks, Dan Vitale, Dave Attell. I found there were all kinds of approaches to it. 

I did my share of blue comedy. I was proud to be a blue comic. It felt rebellious no matter how many people said it was a crutch or shock value or ‘easy’ laughs. There is nothing easy about dirty comedy. Not everyone can pull it off. 

Over the years I became less filthy. There’s alway a bit here and there in my specials but overall I just don’t go there as much. Maybe it's because I’m older. 

The reason I’m bringing all this up is because I’ve been noticing a lot of young dirty female comics lately. Real raw stuff. I feel like I’m seeing more dirty women than men now. I like it. It’s a good cringey. It’s a perspective I don’t hear often. Whether it's for me or not, I like it. It still feels like it has a bit of menace to it. 

Jacqueline Novak is on the show today and she’s got a special posting on Netflix tomorrow called Get On Your Knees. The arc of the show, which is standup with a story, is getting the courage up and learning how to give a blow job. It’s a rite of passage story about a girl finding her way into being a woman, kind of. The thing that is ballsy about it is it’s frank and filthy and fun. Refreshing, even. 

On Thursday Moshe Kasher is back. We cover a lot of ground, some of it Jewish. He has a new book out called Subculture Vulture: A Memoir in Six Scenes. 

Great talks!

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

The Humbling Is Coming.

Futility, People. 

I’m generally exhausted. I don’t know if I need a vacation or to fade away. I know fading away is inevitable but I could accelerate it. 

As much as I like doing what I do (i.e. the podcast and standup) I’m tired. I don’t know if I’m doing it because I love it or because it’s just what I do. I feel like I’ve written this same paragraph before.

I’m trying to make decisions about what I want to do and who I want to be as an old man. Definitive choices. What do I want as a life and an environment? What do I even really like to do? It’s strange how the brain, at least my brain, doesn’t know the difference between practicality and desire and ridiculous fantasy. 

This is something that becomes very apparent if you smoke weed and get out and have hindsight. I haven’t done drugs in decades but there was a feature of me being high that involved visualizing and not doing. In the moment the vision makes perfect sense and it feels like something you are planning on doing and you can even play out doing it and living in the visualization. You can have that fantasy your entire life. 

Visualizing with intent of action is different. I plant the vision and if it’s really something I want there’s a good chance it will manifest eventually. No fanfare or panic or overwrought attempts and efforts. I don’t always know what I want or need, or where wants and needs come from. The ones that make sense and jive with who I really am stick even if they are in the background. 

I had a fantasy that if I lived in NYC I would be a different person than the person I actually am. I saw that guy doing all the things that I would do if I lived there. Then I realized I have NEVER been that guy. Why would that change? I had to let go of the fantasy. 

I don’t have time for fantasies that ruin my brain into believing they are possibilities. I need a self-induced ego contraction. The humbling is coming for all of us. I should get a jump on it. 

What do I really like doing:

Cooking stuff
Playing guitar
A really good conversation
New bits
Running errands
Listening to music
Organizing shit
Doing random tasks around my house
Napping 
Sex
Eating 

That’s about it. I guess that’s a lot. It seems I could trim that list down a bit and have a pretty good life. It seems I could let go of a couple of the things that have defined my life for decades because I may be done with them and have a pretty good life for myself without much. I keep my joy manageable. 

We’ll see. 

Today I talk to Green Day frontman Billie Joe Armstrong about guitars and rock. Thursday I talk to Ed Begley Jr. again and Jonah Ray Rodrigues again. Separately. Good talks all around. 

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

Existential Kidney Stones.

Flying by, People!

Feels like just a week ago it was last year. I am trying to slow things down. Because I fear this year will be one of the worst years this world has ever known. I’ll wager to say, nothing will ever be the same after this one. There will probably be a type of bloodshed no one alive has ever seen. Sorry…

I don’t want to be negative. It’s all going to be fine. Or, it won’t. Right?

So much out of our control. We just don’t know what is going to happen, ever. Right. I don’t know. I feel like if you get yourself into enough routines and patterns and habits both in your life as ritual and in your mind as maintenance you pretty much know exactly what is going to happen day to day in your life. You can almost sleep through it. 

Obviously, there is room for surprises and accidents and illnesses but I imagine people try to manage as much of their life as possible. I imagine that most people’s emotional life, outside of their family or maybe lack of one, is experienced through their phone of computer. You don’t even have to go outside for that. 

The point I guess I’m trying to make is people put a lot of energy into knowing what's going to happen to the point where they don’t really engage in anything spontaneous or scary. The reason I’m hung up on it is there is SO MUCH out of our control and looking to control us to the point of what could be violence and chaos and so much brain fucking that it’s very hard to manage the possibilities. I guess I could stay in the present but the weight of the possible future makes that almost impossible for me. 

I guess I could strengthen my non-existent meditation practice. That ought to do it. Slow it all down, quiet my mind, breathe. See if that will work. Lean into the big nothing for a bit of peace from the existential sledgehammer coming down from the future hard onto the anvil of my mind. 

I can take it. I don’t have a soft brain. I will not be algorithmed into psychosis one way or another. 

I don't know what I’m saying. I’m withdrawing hard from nicotine. This all the ranting of a deep need for relief from an insane craving. It’s exciting though, to touch base with raw need. To pull out all the stops. To take away the psychic dam and let that river flow. 

It will pass. Or, I should say, all things must pass. Sure. That doesn’t mean it wont suck while they're passing. Like existential kidney stones in the dying body of culture. Hallelujah.

Today I talk to Joel Edgerton. He’s an amazing Australian actor. I love all his work. For real. On Thursday Greta Gerwig is back to talk mostly about her amazing year as the director and writer of Barbie. Love her. Fun week. 

Enjoy!

Boomer, Money and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

No Fires.

Happy New Year! 

Yes! Maybe. We’ll see what happens. I’m open. I’m not hopeful but I’m not totally despairing. I’m in that sweet, almost total despair place. 

I have no real reflections on the last year other than it was nice that there were no fires. Living in California, the idea of plenty of water, no more drought and no fires for a year is so amazing I can't even describe it. That was a bit of a load off for the entire year. 

My relationship with Kit that started as a Covid lockdown thing is still a thing with no lockdown and going on much longer than either of us anticipated. We are oddly suited for each other because we like to be alone and doing our own dumb shit but we also like being together. I’m not sure which we like more but we are doing pretty well. Which is excellent. 

I turned 60 and I guess the years ahead of me are fewer and there is no real way to know how many I have left but I seem to be fully willing to freak the fuck out about dying whenever I can. I was out of the full panic anxiety death spiral cycle for years. It’s back. Sixty is starting out great. 

I have no real plans or resolutions for the new year. I’d just like to keep creating, challenging myself and trying not to be so hard on myself. Maybe move to New Mexico, disappear. 

The world is breaking down. The Israel/Gaza war is devastating on a daily basis. Ukraine, Sudan, Yemen, Nigeria, Central America. There is no shortage of pain and war and famine and mass murder. Seems daily. I try to stay informed. I don’t dig too deep. Enough to get an idea of what is going on. I do what I can, which isn’t going to change anything much. I try to put the weight of the world into my work and donate what I can when necessary but that certainly doesn’t feel like enough. Nothing does. 

I was grateful that my HBO special From Bleak to Dark made a few Best Of lists. That was rewarding. I like feeling like I’m not doing what I do for nobody. Being acknowledged in print means something, I don’t care what anyone says. Maybe I’m old timey. 

I have been very excited about all the different types of genius being churned out in movies, music and art. It seems that all of the arts are finding their way out of a devastating few years and really kicking ass. People are hungry for a way to see what is going on in the world or to see themselves through the work of creative people. Which is spectacular. 

Of course bullshit and mediocrity abound. Like a powerful river of garbage flowing through our culture and consciousness right out of our handheld brainfuck machines. 

Oh well. That’s just a given, I guess. 

Today we have a New Year's day compilation of stuff from The Friday Show with Brendan McDonald and Kris Lopresto. It’s usually available for Full Maron subscribers only but now you all can get a taste. Thursday is our 1500th episode! We’re just doing a regular-but-great episode with Paul Giamatti. A truly representative WTF episode. 

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Happy New Year!

Love,
Maron

The Mental Abacus.

Happy Merry, All!

If you can handle or manage or find it in you. I like the quiet. For a bit anyway. 

I’m in New Mexico looking out a window at a row of cottonwood trees. I believe there is a direct interface between them and my neurons. They look similar. Pathways to memories. 

I seem to have a different experience every time I come here. The last time I was heavy-hearted and felt the weight of my dad’s illness and my own time slipping away. I saw childhood friends and they were all old. We are all old. Older anyway. 

I never really think, ‘where did the time go?’ I know exactly where it went. It gets harder to remember specifics but I have a pretty good sense. 

Another Christmas. The land out here remains a constant. Houses change or disappear along with their inhabitants but the consistency of the land is grounding. I’m starting to think about coming back here again. Living here. 

The NYC dream seems to be breaking apart. I came very close to getting a place there. The apartment I was in negotiations to buy had too many issues. A vague timeline for getting them done. Too big a project to get into. Maybe if I were forty I could wait two to three years to move into a place after renovations and construction. I’m 60. Who the fuck knows what 63 will be? Where I’ll be. How I’ll be. How all of us will be. 

I get to the brink and watch ideas and plans and dreams drift away or break apart. 

I got a new album by Ryan Davis and the Roadhouse Band that is kind of great. There’s a couplet in one of the songs. 

The past is a joke played on the future by the present.
The future is a joke played on the present by the past.

I like it. I think about it a lot. 

I’m fortunate to have options. I am thinking about getting old and where to do it. I am thinking about not working. I think I am a person that can do that. Who knows?

The worry is what would I do. People seem to think if you stop working you die quicker. I don’t know. Being self employed I’ve never really had much of a line between work and life. I seem to be able to occupy myself with stuff. Things to do. I don’t really differentiate much between work stuff and life stuff. There isn't a big difference psychologically and focus-wise for me changing three litter boxes or replacing the latch on my gate or baking a banana bread or interviewing Paul Giamatti or doing stand up. It all happens at roughly the same vibration and existential frequency. 

I imagine if I remove a couple things from the rotation I’ll bake more, get more cats, maybe start a handyman business. Though I’m not really pro handy. 

I guess I am reflecting. That's what this space between Christmas and New Year's is about. Everything slows down. Not as many incoming emails, texts, commitments. Just dealing with the mental abacus of memory and working out equations for the future. Speculations at the unavoidable brink. 

Today we’ve put together a bunch of segments that were originally bonus episodes. It’s me talking about movies with Brendan and Kit. Stuff you’ve never heard if you aren’t part of the WTF Plus community. On Thursday I have a conversation with my old friend Matt B. Davis. He was a comic and now he’s in the obstacle course racing world. He made a doc. Apparently we had some shit to work out. Great talk. 

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

100 Lions.

Holidays, Folks!

Everything slows down. The noise eases.  You can hear the birds or, if you live somewhere insane, you can hear the snow and the silence that creates. I like when no one is doing anything. I can relax. Try not to do anything. 

I’m looking forward to seeing snow on my tour. Hopefully snow within reason. Doubtful.

I’m a little traumatized in a good way. I did The Benson Interruption with Doug Benson at Dynasty Typewriter on Saturday. It’s a fun show. I haven’t done it in years. It’s a live event where a movie is screened and 3 comics and Doug sit in the front row with mics and comment during the movie. It can be pretty fun and funny. 

Doug told the audience to bring movies if they wanted to suggest them for viewing. So, we had no idea what was coming. The movie someone brought that was chosen was Roar.

I have no idea why I have never heard anything about this movie. Like, zero things. Nothing. It was by far the most insane movie I have ever seen for very specific reasons. It's a terrible movie. It’s an amazing movie. 

The director/producer, Noel Marshall, was married to Tippi Hedren. The two of them took a trip to Africa and became obsessed with animal conservation. They started buying up large cats like lions and raising them in their home. He had three kids and she had Melanie Griffith. 

Marshall became obsessed with making a movie about a researcher in Africa who was trying to save the lions, tigers, panthers, cheetahs, leopards, elephants, etc. from poachers. He was trying to show how people can live among them in peace. So, he wrote a script and built an Africa set in the desert near LA and brought in what seems like 100 huge cats and a couple of elephants. 

Marshall plays the researcher and the first part of the movie is establishing him as the alpha among dozens of REAL LIONS. It is nuts. They weren’t trained and it was complete chaos. They are all over the place. In the house. They are fighting and playing and while watching you never get the sense that there was anything safe about it because there wasn't. The family of the researcher is flown in during the movie to hang out with the cats. His real family. 

It is insane. The barely veiled panic of all his family trying to act cool around 100 lions. There is menace and cat violence. It was the mid-seventies so there were no real safety rules. Marshall and Hedren were dedicated to keeping the animals safe but almost everyone in the cast and crew got mauled or popped by lions. Eighteen-year-old Melanie got scratched in the face and needed plastic surgery. The DP got half his scalp ripped off. Marshall got dragged by a lion and mauled on the thigh and got gangrene. Tippi got thrown from an elephant and broke her ankle, bad. IT IS CRAZY because it is all in the film. 

It’s an amazing visual document of what surely seems like bipolar disorder and family abuse. 

You’ll never see anything like it. There’s a doc about the making of it on Prime. It took ten years to complete the film and it didn’t get released here until 2015. 

Tippi and Marshal got divorced and she got the cats and the property and opened a refuge outside of LA in the desert where they shot. She dedicated her life to it. 

The film had a profound impact on me. You’ll never see anything like it. I’m a cat guy, so I got it. 

Today I talk to comedian Tammy Pescatelli about doing the thing, being canceled, the road and doing the work. It’s a great comic episode. On Thursday I talk to Blitz Bazawule about making the new The Color Purple musical film and Ghana and art. Another great talk. 

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

Where I Stand.

Hanukkah, People!

I’m lighting the candles I have. Alone. Working that muscle. 

I always do it. I light a few. I forget a few. I always have some left over. I buy a new box of Hanukkah candles every three years or so. I’m inconsistent with a yearly ritual. 

I’m not doing it because it’s important right now for me to connect with my Judaism. I’m not doing it because this is an awful time in the world in terms of rampant antisemitism becoming normalized. I’m doing it because it makes me remember where I came from as a person. 

A yearly reminder of part of who I am. No matter how much I talk about being a Jew or what is happening in the world, lighting as many of those candles I remember to light takes me back to my childhood. It wasn’t even a big deal then. I do it exactly the way I was brought up doing it, as almost an afterthought. Something we fit in at a certain time of year because we are supposed to do it. 

I am supposed to do it. I don’t go too deep with it. I don’t ever go to temple. I don’t fast on Yom Kippur. I have never felt more Jewish in my life than now, primarily because I’m scared. 

The fact that people are conflating Israel and how they feel about what is happening there, which is beyond awful and evil, with all Jews is scary and shallow. The fact that antisemitism is happening on multiple fronts at all times around the world because of this reaction is horrible and threatening. On top of a base antisemitism that is always brewing. The fact that a business in Los Angeles didn’t put a menorah decoration up in their window because of fear of vandalism and violence is terrifying. Hiding who we are out of convenience and avoiding conflict is no way to live in America or anywhere. 

It’s happening. 

I know how I feel. I know where I stand. 

I would like the killing to stop. I would like a reasonable solution to something that has gotten horrendously out of control in a part of the world that I have almost no understanding of. 

I light the candles to remind me that I am a Jew, no matter what, come what may.

Happy Hanukkah. 

Today I have a very engaged and interesting conversation with the actor Peter Sarsgaard. On Thursday I talk to Rodney Crowell about a life in country music and also catch up with John Doe about X and a movie he is in. Great talks all around. 

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

Developing Negatives.

Satire, Folks.

It's hard to pull off when the world is a fucking farce but it does still happen sometimes. When it's good, I love it. 

I saw Dream Scenario the other night. Aside from always kind of loving Nicholas Cage I thought the script and the conceit was very tight. Very cutting. Very funny. In parts, laugh-out-loud-from-pure-discomfort funny. I’ll take it. 

The moment, or one of the many moments, we are living in culturally has to do with the viral nature of information, content, branding, sales, cancel culture, trauma, triggers, young vs old, memes, etc. Okay, I guess. Most of culture is driven by most of those. This film takes some of it on in a very precise way. I don’t want to be a spoiler but I will say, it is dark, brutal, bloody in parts, painful and brilliantly funny most of the time. Cage is amazing as is Julianne Nicholson who is always great. If you have any sort of public facing life in any way this film will disturb you. If you are just a spectator, this film may indict you. It indicts all of us. 

Along with Network, Three Kings, Tropic Thunder and Being There, this film is up there with some of the great satirical films.

Today I talk to portrait photographer Kate Simon. 

I don't know if you knew this about me but I was on the cusp of being an important photographer when I was in high school. Art photography, not journalism or portrait. Okay maybe I’m exaggerating. Photography was an important part of my younger life. I shot quite a bit in high school. I developed my own film and made my own prints. It was the late seventies and I was hanging around a lot of late seventies hipsters and art types in Albuquerque. I worked at a restaurant across the street from the university. My mother was an artist.  I was tapped in. 

I did a very important photograph my senior year. I will try to explain it to you. Our house sat on a half acre of land. It was winter. The ground had been tilled. It was a chunky, big piece of randomly shaped sod mixed with dead alfalfa blades. I set up a ladder in the middle of the field. I placed 3 or four torso mannequins in the sod. They were  arranged as background in random places moving back into the distance. I hooked a work light onto my belt that was plugged into an extension cord. I plugged a small television set into the work light. The set and the light were turned on. It was night, dark. I had my mother hold open the aperture on the camera as I moved toward the ladder with the television. I went up the ladder and placed the TV on top. I then walked around the ladder. Then she closed the aperture. 

The effect was amazing. The glowing screen and several blurred versions of me moving around the ladder in one still. I printed it up using a selenium process. 

It showed at the end of the year art show. It won first place. I won another time with a portrait I drew of John Lennon. The photo was far more interesting. So much so that it appeared in a small regional magazine called Creative Teens. It was the centerfold. I’m sure many of you may have seen it. 

Unfortunately, I couldn’t quite wrap my brain around processing and f-stops and the anxiety of developing negatives. So, I got out of the medium. Thankfully my one masterpiece remains. I have it up in my living room. Powerful. Under appreciated. 

I studied the history of photography in college. A year long survey course which changed the way I think about everything. 

I like talking to photographers. Kate is wild and was there for the art scene and music scene in NYC and London during the 70s and 80s and did some amazing work. Her book of photographs of the late Bob Marley is now widely available after it was done in a limited run years ago. 

On Thursday I talk to Taylor Williamson. He’s a comic I’ve seen around for years and I didn’t realize how funny and original he was. Great talks!

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

Time with Family.

Out the other side, People.

The holiday was very nice. Really. I’m not sure why but it has something to do with the reality of aging and, at some point, denial becomes impossible. At least from an outside perspective. I think personal denial is different. It’s a crafty little fucker. 

Our Thanksgiving dinner was smaller this year. My aunt passed away a few months ago and we only had immediate family over. It was actually the best way to do it. It wasn’t even that sad. As far as actually connecting with each other it was the best one yet.

As many of you know, I do all the cooking. I fly in two days early and literally cook for two days. This year was a little different in that I am vegan. I have nothing against meat or meat-eaters but I did try some new things and was able to make all the sides vegan, outside of the stuffing. My cousin’s daughter is also vegan so I had an ally in eating. 

I’m realizing that no matter how cynical I am, or guarded in the form of funny, I am lucky to have my parents still alive and old because it really enables me to let the angry, needy kid in me shut up and grow. I know I’m late to the game with that and it’s been a long time coming. 

There’s a strange acceptance to it. My parents are also not that much older than me. They had me in their twenties and that age gap at 60 is much different than it was when I was in my twenties. They seem to be my contemporaries, or just slightly older. 

Also, dealing with my father regularly in his decline has forced me to have a level of acceptance that wasn’t there before. The slow death of dug-in expectations opens up an emotional connection that was never there. I wouldn’t say that I’m fully engaged. I live in a different place than both of them and I don’t see them that much. I am lucky they are both being cared for and are still (kinda) mobile but when I am around them I can see them for who they are now and deal with it. It shouldn’t be hard and it shouldn’t have been a challenge but it was. 

I am okay with it all. I know there are hard events on the horizon and I will probably remain distant around dealing with some of them but that’s how I am wired. Thanks to them.  

The point is cooking for two days and spending time with family was nice, relaxing even, and a little sad, but in an understanding way. 

Given that I am a bit emotionally incapable of being fully open around either of them I was able to sit with it and with them and enjoy their company. The emotions came out a bit when I left. 

I got to New York City on Saturday. I was laying in bed in my hotel at midnight and The Devil Wears Prada came on HBO. I watched the whole movie (again) and blubbered in my bed for two hours. I don’t know exactly what that's about with that movie but clearly the emotions had to surface. It’s a fun context for that.  I try not to question it and just let myself have the feelings. At 2 a.m. The Master came on. I watched a half hour of that and it kind of stabilized and disturbed me. Both movies are about assistants with very different job requirements. 

I started trying to get Albert Brooks on the show in 2011. It has happened. Today is the day. I will chart the history of attempts on the show. I was a little cranky about the fact that he came on in connection with the HBO doc about him, Albert Brooks: Defending My Life. I thought that the interview would be challenging in that there is now a whole documentary with him talking about his life. It turned out to be a great talk. It will work as a companion piece to the documentary. Almost totally different. Filling in some gaps. 

It was a thrill to talk to him and we did it looking out over the ocean at the beautiful Georgian Hotel in Santa Monica. He didn’t want to come to my house because he’s allergic to cats and I guess he didn’t want me in his house either. It worked out great. 

On Thursday I have a pretty thorough conversation with Jesse David Fox about the history of modern comedy and how we got here and what it means to the culture. He wrote a very thoughtful, smart book about it, Comedy Book: How Comedy Conquered Culture–and the Magic That Makes It Work. Good stuff. 

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

The Wolf Problem.

Exhausted, People.

Maybe I’m getting too old for this shit. Not comedy. The 4-5 show weekend. It’s fine. It’s what I’ve done all my life but I put a lot into it. There’s no autopilot function. By the end of that last show on Saturday night I’m drained. 

That mixture of being wiped out and totally adrenalized. Beneath that is the assessment of the work, the reflecting on the new bits, moments. Then eating whatever is around in the hotel room. Watching TV at one in the morning to come down. 

The life. 

I watched most of The Matrix on network TV with commercials. I’ve always thought the movie was a smart metaphor. When you watch it with commercials AND you watch the commercials it seems to take on a deeper meaning. More a truth than a metaphor. 

It’s interesting to me what rolls around in my brain. What I lock into. Portals to thought. Some recurring. When I’m on the road just walking around, thinking, writing things down, talking to strangers, going to restaurants and record stores. That seems to be the bulk of the work. And napping. 

I got hung up on a couple of quotes the last couple of days. Wilheim Reich’s “Fascism is the frenzy of sexual cripples” which is just a satisfying way to look at the world without going too deep into the actual horror facing us. The other is Neiztche’s “Battle not with monsters, lest ye become a monster, and if you gaze into the abyss the abyss gazes also into you.” He’s clearly talking about our phones. The elaborate hand held abyss that dictates much of our thoughts. Our manufactured reflection, based on correlated desires. The demonic algorithms that possess us and our choices. Good luck with the free-thinking. 

I do like Denver. I’ve been going there for years. It’s a true Western town. It definitely has its own vibe as an American city. I’ve been there enough to know a few places I like to go. Creme Coffee on Larimer and Wax Tracks records. Good hangs. 

Even as I get more paranoid to travel in my own country for a variety of reasons, I’m always overreacting to possibilities of fear and horrors my brain churns out, so far. Too much time locked in with the elaborate abyss. It's a big world out there. I’m not going to say that most people are innately good or decent. I would say that most are scared and sad, angry, wary of strangers. Programmed by their choices and what gazes back at them. I feel it. I think. 

There was an actual cowboy convention at my hotel. Some farm related confab. A lot of hats and boots. I grew up in the Southwest. It wasn’t odd to me but I did feel like an alien. I was in an elevator with a couple of them. They were talking about the wolf problem and whether or not a certain type of dog would help keep the wolves at bay. I don’t think it was code. I knew it was literal. It does work as a metaphor for the world somewhat, either side. 

Converging on a show after a day in the head is a jarring transition. Shifting focus. All the shows were actually very good. Sold out. Great audiences. Thanks, Denver. 

For those in the loop, Charlie seems to have made a full recovery. He’s back to his asshole kitten self. It’s a relief. 

I have to get ready for Thanksgiving. The big solo cookoff in Florida. It will be the first time I see my family since my aunt died. I’m glad I’m going but it may be heavy. The heaviness that is unavoidable. The weight of regular human life. 

Damn, this missive has been dense. What can I say? I’m flying on Southwest as I write this. It doesn’t bring up the happy stuff. 

Today I have a very exciting conversation with Taika Waititi about his movies, TV shows and life. I love his work. Gifted guy. On Thursday I have a unique chat with my optometrist, Dr. Elliott Caine, who is first and foremost a seasoned jazz trumpeter. Great talks. 

Enjoy!

Happy Thanksgiving, if possible!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

The Global Cat Consciousness.

Home is getting heavier, People. 

I just got back from Albuquerque. As many of you know, I grew up there. 

When you’re younger and you leave home for whatever - college, to move to another city, to run away, etc - you come home it feels like a hero’s return. You come with tales from outside the zip code. Big stories of other cities and experiences that would never happen at home. Sometimes you need to dry out and/or get your head together. The return is glorious though.

Now that I’m older, going home is different. It’s heavier. You see your old friends and where they are on the spectrum of being beaten down, humbled by life and age. It’s not bad, it’s just bittersweet. 

I went home to do a show at the Kimo Theater. It was sold out. 

Two days before I left, Charlie Beans stopped eating and was lethargic. I took him to the vet the day before I left but they found nothing wrong with him. This happened before and he didn’t eat for days. It’s very stressful and scary. I love the guy. 

So, I went to Albuquerque heavy-hearted and concerned about my cat. Kit was caring for him but it’s just so sad when your animals get sick. 

I spent time with my father who is still in what seems to be the early stages of dementia. He hadn’t changed much since a couple of months ago and he was engaged and seemed pretty good considering. It’s hard though, sad. I am glad I go see him. 

I had dinner with four old friends that I have known for 40-50 years. It’s crazy. There we all were. Aging guys. Trying to remember moments from our youth. It’s amazing how many of them revolved around getting fucked up and not dying and fucking. The mind prioritizes interesting things. Not that those things aren’t important. They may be the most important. Vitality. Risk. 

The strange thing about being home is I am not really the person I was growing up. I was not that funny when I was younger. I was needy and intense and desperately trying to be liked by the people that I liked. There was nothing easy or natural or relaxed about the younger me. Maybe I’m not that different. I am funnier though. 

I was very nervous about the show. So many people from my past, people I hadn’t seen in decades, were there. My dad was there. His wife and her extended family were there. I was scared that I would regress and become that guy I was in high school. 

All through it I was worried about Charlie who still wasn’t eating. 

I did the show. It was great. I really connected with who I was and who I am now. I connected with the city I grew up in and the people that were still there. It was emotionally draining. After the show I was wiped out from the weight of the emotions. I lost touch with why I do comedy and why I do the comedy I do and why I choose to talk about what I talk about. Drained. 

I ate some cake and felt better. I was still kind of shattered. Sad about what time does to us and people in our lives. It’s natural and normal and even sweet but sobering. 

When I got back to Los Poblanos where I stay, I was a bit shattered and concerned about my cat. There’s an old cat at the place that lives on the grounds and wanders around. He’s called Mouse. I have spent time with him before. He’s a sweet old guy. When I got out of my car it was 11:30 at night and I started walking to my room. I heard Mouse meowing and I spotted him. I said hi and he followed me to my room. He came inside and he spent the night with me. I think he knew I was cat sad. So he gave me some support . While he was on my lap I tried to tap into the global cat consciousness and use him as a portal to send some healing energy to Charle. 

The next morning Kit FaceTimed with me and Charlie was starting to eat a bit. Relief. 

I stopped at a family friend’s house on my way to the airport. She’s my parents age and has experienced some sickness and loss recently. We talked about grief and had some feelings. It was great to see her but it’s all so heavy. 

Life is hard and sad after a point but that is just what it is. It’s still sweet. 

Grief for time passing and for loved one’s passing is just part of it. Acceptance. It’s okay. 

Charlie is still a bit sick but he’s bouncing back. 

Today I talk to Chef José Andrés about his global food outreach and his life. Thursday I talk to Fisher Stevens about Fisher Stevens. Great conversations. 

Enjoy! 

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron