My Front Burner.

Exciting, Folks!

I don’t talk about the world much publicly anymore but I have to say it was very exciting and disturbing to watch Trump get convicted on 34 felony counts. The combination of justice being served and the total electrifying unknowing of what happens now was pretty crazy. Unchartered waters for sure. That we're on the precipice of fascism or some other chaos is certain. I can't say we don’t live in troubling and terrifying times. 

It’s interesting that it was so predictable that Trump would say it was a rigged trial with a biased judge. What’s not unusual about that is it is what every convicted criminal says. ‘I’m not guilty, I was set up, the system is rigged against me.’ So, in that way, he is just the same as any criminal of any kind. He just happens to be a former president. 

The fact is that most of his followers are willing to forgive him for anything or believe he’s done nothing wrong. They have their reasons. They are either shameless fascists who no longer believe tolerance is necessary and they are mad at being forced for so long to accept people who are different from them. So they never shut up. Or they are religious fanatics who have justified Trump as God’s flawed messenger who is necessary for them to get to the other side where they can impose their belief system on everyone they deem immoral according to the limited purview of the Bible. 

In both types of people, Trump is a means to impose selective morality and destroy the freedom of choice of people to be and do what they want to do. 

I can judge the character of people that will blindly support one of the most obviously morally bankrupt people that has ever held power in the world. It’s also interesting that the precedent for God choosing a flawed messenger is Satan’s exile. I’m not a religious person, but it seems that Trump is probably the closest I’ve seen to Satan in human form. So whatever moral compromise the believers have made to support this particular guy, it may fall under the standard ‘deal with the devil’ clause and that generally means those who enter that negotiation have the same price to pay. 

I still believe that the most important fight is the one against fascism here in America. Of course I want the killing to stop in the Middle East. Of course I want some kind of sustainable peace. But the reality of true fascism that will be supported by most industries here in the U.S. is still what sits on my front burner. I’m no longer sure it’s avoidable. 

My brain goes to these places as I muddle through my day-to-day work. I try to believe that what I do is relevant and helpful but the gnawing anxiety about enveloping darkness is always on my periphery. Maybe it’s chemical and I’m a bit clinically depressed or anxious. I seem to think it’s a valid perspective despite my own issues. 

On a lighter note I thought Furiosa was an amazing movie and I can't understand why it’s not more popular. That guy George Miller is a true cinema visionary and makes a good big movie. I’ve been spending way too much time scrolling reels on my phone and sometimes I think it's my primary emotional partner. I have to pull back. 

I also have to reckon with my nicotine addiction, again. Apparently there's a global Zyn shortage and now I have seen the squirmy addict I become when I can’t get my fix. I have to kick it. Again. 

Today I talk to Susie Essman about her 12 seasons on Curb Your Enthusiasm and her life and career as a comic. On Thursday I do more Curb and comedy talk with Larry David. 

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

Face Cleanser.

Patterns, People.

I need my patterns. I do want to report that I can be okay without them, though. It’s taken a long time but it's the little things that give you the strength. Also, some things just lose their meaning as you get older. 

I've been home for a few days and it worked like a charm. I got grounded in my life pretty quickly. 

I brought a bunch of stuff up to Vancouver to get set up to be there on and off for the long haul ahead. I instinctively know to get enough of my stuff around me to maintain the patterns that give me some small sense of control. Not much, but enough to keep me grounded. I need things. I need my coffee, my lotion for my face, my body soap, things to cook the few things that I cook, my shampoo, my vitamins, a guitar, the underwear  I like, the socks I like, the pants I wear, the shirts, the shampoo, my face soap and a few other things. 

I need them. They aren’t really essential. Everything on that list could be replaced or substituted with something similar and it would be fine. Annoying, but fine. I can deal with that. For a while, not forever. 

The things I needed to bring on the road in the past were very specific and I would kind of freak out if I didn’t have them. I spent a lot of time before I left putting my specific toiletries in little travel containers because I had to have them. They were essential. They weren’t really but they were the things I was used to and they kept at bay the chaos of everything out of my control.

After 30 years of travel I have finally gotten to the point where I may not even bring my own shampoo and just use what they have at the hotel. That is insane. True progress. The idea that I could show up in a strange city without my specific shampoo and not scramble around town to try to find it is amazing. Then I realized that the scramble and panic is just the second line of defense against the big unknown and entropy. 

The fact is I just don’t care that much anymore. It will be okay if I don’t have my toothpaste. It will not undermine my sense of self. Big step. 

It all starts to seem pretty ephemeral, trivial. But the act of investing meaning and importance in the mundane things that make up our lives is a kind of sympathetic magic engaged to maintain the person you think you are. Symbolic objects that you have decided determine your sense of self and define you. It’s ridiculous, but sometimes it's all you have. That one pair of pants. A shirt you love. 

Most of it is losing its meaning and some of it is just a necessity. For me to see them as such is a relief and some indication that I am not as panicked as I once was and I can half accept the darkness heading my way because it is inevitable. 
I do need my Cetaphil Gentle Face Cleanser, though. Always. 

Today I talk to Molly Ringwald about her life and being the woman we all remember as a teen. On Thursday I talk to actor/director Tony Goldwyn about his sweet new film ‘Ezra’ and about being a third generation ‘nepo baby.’ Good stuff. 

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

Filling Pails.

Panic, People.

Getting started on the work for the show I’m going to do. 

I’m doing my first stint up in Vancouver this week. I have to be honest. I’m a little tweaked out. Most of me isn’t but it’s almost even. 

When you have a mild anxiety verging on more than mild anxiety you kind of learn how to live with it. When it shifts into massive anxiety it’s always surprising and awful. I would say I had pretty close to a full on panic attack the other night. 

I can always sleep. Almost always. I sleep well. I don’t sleep long but I sleep deep. I was trying to just sleep like usual the other night and I couldn’t get there. I feel like I had very good training for figuring out a way to get to sleep during the drug years. Or at least convincing myself I was sleeping. I just couldn’t get there the other night. Then I realized my brain was on fire in full fear for actual reasons. 

When I’m awake and in the world I can keep most of the fears at bay. Suck it up. When your brain is open and all is quiet that's when it can get all consuming. The fears. I’m about to enter a work environment and be away from home on and off. I have to show up and be the character. I have to keep my shit together and do the job. I have to not be an asshole which, fortunately, I’m pretty good at these days. There’s a lot of unknowns. If my brain is working properly I can acknowledge that and just stay in the present and know that I have the ability to show up and do it. 

The scales tipped in my brain and the fear consumed me. It was like Altered States. My bed was the isolation tank and I was forcing myself into a meditative state. Usually when you are falling asleep your brain looks into some small narrative that takes you out of your consciousness and that's the portal to sleep. When your brain can't find a narrative you just fester in self-consciousness and your eyes are closed and all you see are shapes and colors and you try to navigate that, give it definition. Hyper aware. Heart racing. 

I tried to engage in some story and my brain decided to go back to all the times I was afraid to do things and didn’t want to. I realized that no one was going to really help. I started in the present and went all the way back to eight years old. I didn’t get back to primal humans or the big bang. I just arrived at a panic stricken scared eight-year-old who wanted someone to make everything okay. I climbed out of the tank (my bed). I told Kit I was losing it. She said, ‘You’ll be okay.’ 

That was enough to re-engage the grown up. Not enough to stop me from continuing to spin and believe that I was really just that kid and that everything else was just bullshit and I am a fraud and not capable of doing the job or anything really. Awesome. 

Eventually my brain found a story. It was abstract and odd but it got me through to sleep. From what I can remember it was just me filling pails and a wheelbarrow with dirt and just moving them somewhere else and dumping them. My desperate version of counting sheep, I guess. 

I woke up having slept maybe four hours but it was enough. I was relatively grounded. Then I talked to Jewel for an hour which was actually very helpful. Now I have to pack and keep it together. 

Today I have a lovely chat with actor Daniel Stern. On Thursday I talk to the aggressively filthy and hilarious Steph Tolev.

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

A Bit of Chaos.

Heading home, Folks.

Being on the road for for days sometimes seems like a month. Not in a bad way. It's just a few different time zones, mentally and literally. Now I have to get home and get it together to shoot the show I’m going to be on in Vancouver. 

The shows were great in Pittsburgh, Cleveland and Detroit. 

We went to the Mattress Factory in PA. It’s one of the great art spaces. Installations, evolving pieces, classics. The spaces are all part of an old factory. It’s hard to tell what is a piece of art and what is the old building. I always love Pittsburgh. It’s a truly charming city. 

I can never really get a sense of Cleveland as a city. I have a fan at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame who’s one of the head archivists. When we pulled into town that was the first stop. He took us into the vault. We were shown Buddy Holly’s high school diploma, some Jimi Hendrix outfits, Gary Rossington’s Les Paul, Allen Collins's Explorer and Bon Scott’s original draft of the lyrics of Highway to Hell, among other things. Big day. Skynyrd. 

Detroit got weird. It was a great show, but it got weird. I’ve played the Royal Oak Music Hall many times. This was actually the best show I’ve had there but it wasn’t without a bit of chaos. I was doing my new Jew stuff. I always have the Jew stuff. Right when I started it, right when I said I was a Jew, within seconds, someone shouted something loud from the back of the room. I couldn’t quite make out what it was but an audience member said it was, ‘Shut the fuck up, motherfucker!!’ I stopped the show, quieted it down, and asked him to say it again. Nothing. I waited. I said you have a problem. He said, ‘Fuck you!’ I said, ‘Okay, this is what is going to happen. I’ll give you your money back and you will be escorted out.’ That was that. Then I addressed it, big laughs. Heavy scene. Fuck you, Jew. 

I’m always waiting for it. It happened. In the best way possible, I guess. Could’ve been worse. The audience loved the show. They left feeling like they got their laughs. It was exciting and real. A fun night. I left looking over my shoulder. 

The stage manager said the guy had paid for tickets, good ones. I don’t know what he thought he was going to see or who. Maybe he just snapped. That seems to be a thing now. Almost involuntary. Like a convulsion. An explosion of anger that had been waiting for a target. He didn’t say anything other than ‘fuck you.’ Maybe the Jew thing triggered it. Maybe everything did. Or he would’ve said more. Maybe. I’m being forgiving. Kind of. People are at a breaking point. Scary times. 

I don't know if you folks know or remember A. Whitney Brown but he's a great comic mind. He wrote on SNL for years, had a segment on Weekend Update called The Big Picture, he was one of the original writers on The Daily Show, worked briefly at Air America and he was a thoughtful, brilliant standup. He has one of the most interesting origin stories as a comic that I have heard. 

I often hear people say, ‘What happened to that guy?’ Or ‘Is he still around?’ I knew he was in Austin so I tracked him down when I was at the Moontower Festival and went to his house and talked to him. It’s a doozy. 

I’m rarely totally blown away by too much but Billy Strings blows me away. He is one of the greatest guitar players of all time. He came over, we talked. I had to ask him to play. I don’t do that much anymore. He did. It’s amazing. You can listen to that on Thursday. 

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

This Erratic Ride.

Flying again, Folks.

I’m in the air going home for a few days before I go out again for a few days. Then I’m back for a week or so before I head to Vancouver for the first bit of shooting the TV thing I’m going to do. 

It’s very confusing. Part of me gets very attached to my patterns and routines of being home. It grounds me. It keeps me engaged. Even little things become very important because they kind of make up my life. 

I get very anxious and crazy before I travel which leads to all kinds of future-tripping about what I have to do which alchemizes anxiety into dread and destabilizes me for however long it takes for me to get somewhere to do something. 

Once I’m where I’m going and locked in it becomes a whole different life. Quickly. One that I am actually completely comfortable with. It’s a little tedious being on the road but I know how to do it. I still do it old school. I don’t have a road manager or entourage. I don't ‘fly private’ or have a tour bus. I rent cars and drive from show to show in other states. Usually with my openers. I guess the only thing I hope for is that I can talk to them and we can travel together. Once I get to know them it works out. I’ve never had an issue really. 

Maddie Weiner opened for me this run and it was the first time I’d met or worked with her. I’d seen her vids and I knew she was a strong act. She’s a killer and she’s only 25. She’s funny as fuck. 

That’s the nature of the game. I’m a veteran. I do what I do. If I look at it right, it's pretty great to see young acts doing something interesting and having their own voice and point of view. I’m glad I can see a new comic for the comics they are and not a threat somehow. It takes a minute sometimes, but it wins out. 

I also don’t have any real perspective on how or if younger comics even acknowledge me or my work. It turns out that Maddie and some of her generation, which is two or three behind me, hold me in pretty high regard. Knowing that is actually one of the most rewarding parts of what I do. I am not a ‘big’ comic but I am unto myself and I’ve never been able to do it any other way than how I do it and I’ve done okay. I generally don’t give myself much credit because I’m always comparing myself to others and wondering why I’m not them. Not as much as I used to, which is good. When younger comics give me props, it hits me pretty deep that I’ve inspired or had an impact on them and my community and that it’s personal. It’s meaningful. 

Not to sideline the audience I have built. The fact that so many of you come out to see me is somehow still surprising to me. The fact that you are all mostly grown up, decent, smart people is amazing to me. I truly appreciate you. Again, I don’t give myself much credit. That is changing a bit, as I said. 

There’s some part of me, like a separate self, that has become very interested in my ability to show up and do all the things that I do. Like he’s a little dumbfounded that there's been this highly functional person taking him on this erratic ride that is my life and he’s pretty taken aback and a bit proud to be part of it. It’s positive self-consciousness. Crazy. I’m integrating myself. 

Maybe this is the beginning of some genuine self-esteem happening. An unburdening. I won’t get carried away. Don’t worry. 

I am sorry if I’ve had to reschedule a show that you had tickets for. I will make it up to you. 

Today I have a fun talk with actor Chris Pine. He’s a good guy. On Thursday, comedian Joe Mande is back. It’s always good to talk to him. 

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

Animals.

Back home again, Folks!

I’m sitting here next to my dad while I’m writing this. He’s got golf on TV. I don’t think he cares that much about golf or who’s playing or what the score is or even how to score. It’s pretty basic. He likes to see them hit the ball. I guess thats more than half of the charm of the game. 

“It fascinates me how they can control the curve of the ball.” 

He’s just a few key words away from being a commentator. 

I throw questions at him. Randomly. It’s a test I guess to sense how far gone his mind is. Just fishing around in his memories. Seeing what comes up if anything. 

Me: What did Grandpa Ben (his father) do?
Dad: Office. 

That’s something. Office is what a lot of people do. No reason to be too specific. 

When I was growing up we lived a good portion of that time in the north valley of Albuquerque off of Rio Grande Blvd. As you head north down that street from Central Ave, a few miles down, there was fairly dramatic S curve. There were always accidents down there. Our street fed into Rio Grande almost like an on-ramp at the top of the curve heading south. There was a large house on a big piece of land on our street. The fence of the property was on the side of the street going around the curve. On the property was a herd of Buffalo owned by the doctor who owned the house. There must’ve been 6-10 big buffalo, maybe bison, but I always referred to them as buffalo. If people weren’t sure where I lived I would say, “You know where the buffalo are? Down that street.”

I was driving down around there with my dad yesterday. We were heading toward the S curve. 

Me: You remember the house we lived in down here?
Dad: I never lived down here. 
Me; Yeah, we did for years. I grew up down here. 
Dad: I don’t remember. 

We drove around the S curve past the property where the buffalo were. 

Me: You remember the buffalo?
Dad: Yes. 

My entire childhood home, gone. Buffalo? Etched on the walls of his dimming mind. They might be the last thing to go. Like on the great plains. Just space on the horizon. Or maybe they will aways be there like in the cave of Lascaux. Buffalo. Bison. Living animal spirits forever with us. Our relationship with them is part of what makes us human.

We had several dogs growing up. Old English sheep dogs. Many over the years. MacDuff, Raglan, Sam and Disco. Mac was the first. We had him in the late 60’s into the early seventies.

Me: I was up by your old office today. I used that address to go to Highland High. You remember that?
Dad: Uh, I don't remember a lot of that stuff. No.
Me: You remember Raglan?
Dad: Yes.
Me: Macduff?
Dad: Yes, Macduff. 

Animals. Keep us grounded. 

He might not know me the next time I see him but we’ll aways have the animals it seems. 

Today I talk to Neal Brennan, again. It’s an evolving relationship. We go pretty deep. On Thursday I talk to Tiffany Haddish. I caught her at the end of a long day of promoting her new book. She was a bit over it all. I got through eventually though. 

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Marc

Bubbles.

Texas, Folks!

I didn’t know what to expect going to Austin. I hadn’t been there since the invasion of the comedy and tech bros. I thought it would have an impact on the vibe of the crowds and the city. 

It didn’t. As far as I could tell the people that were always there making Austin a great city were still there. I’m sure the city is different for those who live there but, in terms of audiences, the shows at the Moontower Festival seemed as great as always. 

I’m not sure what I was expecting. Physical confrontations between regular, diverse and interesting comics and the anti-woke hack brigade? It didn’t happen. Each seemed to stay in their separate camps. Bubbles. 

It kind of reminded me that there are a lot of people that still live in the middle of the opposing poles of extreme ideology. I’d like to think most people, but I don’t know. Is it possible that most people aren’t brainfucked? That most people still appreciate and respect other people that may live a different life than they do. Is it possible that most people still give a shit about tolerance and acceptance? I don't know, but I had a little hope. Or maybe I was just happy that the people who appreciate what I do were there and that the ones that don’t weren’t. 

When I was in Austin I decided to track down A. Whitney Brown. Many people have no idea who he is. He was a great comic. He wrote and appeared on SNL in the late eighties for a few years. He helped create the original Daily Show. He has always been one of those guys that people say, ‘What happened to that guy? Is he still alive?’ He is. I found him. He’s been out of the show biz game for years and he lives a relatively quiet life in Austin with his wife, who is the amazing blues guitarist, Carolyn Wonderland. 

Whitney picked me up and we drove to his house. He’s old school Austin. We talked, ate beans and rice, he showed me the trees he planted, listened to some new mixes of Carolyn’s new record, talked about Mark Twain and Pryor. It was a reminder that there is life after show business. That there are choices one can make to honor themselves that don’t involve compromising one's integrity or being part of the validation machine. He seemed great. It was inspiring. 

I watched a limited series on Netflix called Baby Reindeer. It kind of broke my brain. It was one of the most honest, raw, disturbing, personal stories I’ve ever watched unfold. A truly courageous piece of work that explores trauma, emotional damage, needs, comedy, mental illness, resolving identity issues, moving through abuse, dealing with the crippling effect of self hatred. It’s a harrowing, profoundly personal piece of work by the creator and star Richard Gadd. Highly recommended. 

Today I talk to former SNL writer, actress and living legend, Paula Pell. On Thursday I take a run down memory lane to the Lower East Side of the nineties with T.D. Lang, aka Tammy Faye Starlite. She’s doing a new show as Nico in NYC. Good week. 

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

Out of the Patterns.

Risks, Folks.

I had plans. Visions for my immediate future that involved taking a break. Relaxing. Maybe resting on my laurels a bit and giving in to the idea that I could start easing out of patterns and my insane work schedule and try to enjoy life. 

Plans have changed. 

The original idea was to finish my tour, see if I could get a special, shoot it and take stock. Assess where I’m at with things. Maybe pull back a bit. Try to enjoy life or at least see if that is possible as we enter the hell of the next few months leading into the election and whatever happens after that. 

Then, opportunity knocked. As usual, I was resistant and kind of mad about it. 

Apple TV+ offered me a role in a new series that stars Owen Wilson. It’s a show about a washed up golf pro with a heavy past who’s kind of a fuck up. He blew his career twenty years ago and has lived an anonymous sad life since. He sees a teen prodigy at a driving range and becomes obsessed with taking him on the road and making him a pro. My character is Owen's old caddy and friend. 

Like all big decisions I’m put in a position to have to make, I just wanted out. I didn’t want to decide. I just wanted to stick to my plan of winding down. Which, in all likelihood, was probably a fantasy. I mean, I’m 60 not 80. If I have any desire to act professionally I should do it. Opportunities are hard to come by. Working as a supporting character with Owen could be fun. He’s funny. 

I struggled for a couple of weeks. Just making it a bad thing in my head. It could’ve been fear or it could’ve been just exhaustion. I mean, I do have a couple of jobs already and I want to do them all the best I can. I’m also consumed with anxiety until I actually get to where I’m going or make a decision. 

People take jobs that take them out of the patterns of their lives all the time. People with families. I’m just stuck wondering how my cats are going to handle it. I almost had to sell my house when I got divorced the second time and the only thing that stopped me was wondering what Boomer would do because he lived outside. Crazy. 

This show seems sweet and human. It’s not quite like any character I’ve done but it is definitely in my wheelhouse. I just have to tell myself that everything will be alright. I went back and forth with them a lot about what I would need to be in place in order to do it. The primary thing was to be able to do the podcast at the level we’ve always done it because that is my most important gig. Also, the standup, but that will require rescheduling some shows and maybe push the possible special into the new year when I may have to change my entire set to accommodate the end of America. Which I probably would’ve had to do anyway. We’ll see. 

Today I talk to Malcolm McDowell about a life in movies and his unforgettable turn in A Clockwork Orange that made him a cultural meme long before memes. On Thursday I talk to comic Jimmy Carr about what I talk to comics about. Great week!

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

That Other Treadmill.

Midwesting it, Folks.

I’ve been away for five days and it feels like a month. 

It’s been a great run. As I write this I am delayed at the airport in Minneapolis. The shows in Madison, Milwaukee, Chicago and here were great. Ali Macofsky did a great job opening and all the crowds were really perfect. If you came out for one of the shows, thanks.

I guess I never realized it before but traveling to a different city every day, either by plane or driving, is somehow exhausting. Even if you aren’t doing much. 

Maybe I’m just making an excuse for not going to the gym in every city. I don’t know. Hotel gyms are pretty hit or miss. I can get in there sometimes but for the most part there is something existentially awful about them. A couple of the hotels we stayed at even had good ones. The one at the first hotel was big. There were probably seven treadmills and a few bikes, weights, mats, the whole deal. I was still the only one in there but it wasn’t as lonely and weird as the two treadmill hotel gym. For some reason when you are in a very small hotel gym on a treadmill it feels like you may be the last person on earth. All you are hoping for is that no one gets on that other treadmill. Too intimate, too weird. Like you and some stranger are trying to outrun death and neither of you is really getting anywhere. 

Hold on, I think I see Kate Winslet in the Delta lounge here in Minneapolis. Is that even possible? Nope. Just a regular lady. 

The vegan food situation on the road is becoming sort of a drag. A lot of fried stuff out there. So, I feel disgusting. The combination of not going to the gym in different cities and eating too much fried plant based mystery food or bread has left me feeling like a bloated, exhausted monster. 

Is that Bryan Cranston? Wait, no. Just a regular guy. 

I got up at six to get to the airport for a 9:25 flight that was delayed an hour. I’m starting to fade. That initial boost of wake up juice that got me up and out is wearing off. I’d like to think I’m generally pretty lucky with flights but that’s not really true. On our way out here we were in the air heading to Chicago when we got texts on our phones that our flight from Chicago to Madison had been canceled. I’m not sure why my manager booked that flight. It’s only a two hour drive. The plan was to rent a car in Madison to do the rest of the run. So, while in the air we were able to see if there were any other available flights. Ali was looped in on text. My manager was texting from New York. It didn’t seem possible to get on a plane so I decided to reserve a car in Chicago. We did all this while in the air!

I don’t express enough gratitude for technology for keeping me sane. 

Ten years ago I wouldn’t have found out anything until I got off the plane, stood in front of the board and said, ‘Fuck! Canceled! It doesn’t even look that bad out. Fuck!’

Then the scramble to the American counter to find out there were no other planes. Then running to another airline to see if I could get on one that would be filled up. Then going out to Hertz not knowing whether they even had a car available and possibly spending the night at a sad airport hotel with a gym I wouldn’t even check out. 

None of that happened. I mean, it happened in my head, but that’s different. Technology probably extended my life by alleviating that panic and anger. 

Today I talk to Carol Burnett. I drove up to Montecito in pouring rain to talk to the legend. It was an honor meeting her and a great time doing research watching old shows. On Thursday I talk to comedian Alex Edelman about his new HBO special and Jews. Good week!

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

Out Into the Ether.

Hello, People!

In my world, reality is crazy but manageable. In my head, it’s a whole different situation. If I don’t do something to sync them up I’m going to blow a gasket. The amount of anxiety I deal with leading up to anything, even something that should be fun, is unbearable at this point. The fun does not outweigh the fraught journey to having it. 

I’ve got to get them to be equal if not leaning more towards the fun. Even in the face of awfulness on all sides. I feel like I’ve earned it. 

That being said, I moderated a conversation with Larry David in Washington, DC on Friday. By moderate I mean I interviewed him in front of a large audience at the Anthem Theatre. He asked me to do it. I don’t know Larry. I met him once at an airport. Of course, I love the guy. He’s one of the funniest people that ever lived. He called me once after he heard my Seinfeld talk where I mentioned that he wouldn’t do the show. He called to tell me he wouldn’t do the show at the time because there was no reason for him to do it. He said he would do it when he had a reason.

The final season of Curb Your Enthusiasm seemed like a good reason. I know he was out there doing press. So, I reached out to him and asked him to do the show. He said he had some other commitments that he had to honor before me and he would do it after. It never happened. On the upside, every time I talked to the guy, it was fun. I got him laughing. It means something to make Larry David laugh. At least it does to me. 

I began to realize that he doesn’t really love doing personal talks and there was a good chance he would never do the show. Which is fine. Then he called and asked if I would do this live event with him. I said sure. I said it could be great. Then I asked if we could record and I could post it as a podcast. He said he was thinking the same thing. Perfect. It was all going to happen. Until the next day when he called and said I couldn’t record it. Then I thought, ‘what's the point?’ I half tried to get out of it. Then they offered me good money to do it and I thought, ‘Well, I’d be rude not to do it and it could be fun.’ I agreed. 

Over the course of a few weeks we talked a few times. I just wrapped my mind around the idea of doing this one-off live talk with him that wasn’t being recorded by anyone for any reason. It seemed a bit insane in this day and age with technology so easy to just have it go out into the ether for that audience on that night and that’s where it would stay. It annoyed me but I was in and I started thinking about my approach. It’s a whole different thing than sitting one-on-one across from each other but it's doable. I’ve done it before. 

Two days before the event he calls me. He’s a bit concerned. He tells me he doesn’t want to get personal. He says, ‘No Barbara Walters moments.’ I had just gotten off the phone with Brendan to bounce my approach off him when Larry called. I told him I was just talking about him for an hour. He asked what about. I said I was trying to figure out a way to get out of interviewing him. Big laugh. 

Then the dread set in. What the fuck am I going to talk to him about if he doesn’t want to get personal. A day before the show he texts me that he wants to talk and I would be happy about it. I called him. He says, ‘Do whatever the fuck you want. You’re great. You know what you're doing. I don’t give a fuck.’

It was a relief but despite that I now knew his comfort zone so I had to respect that. It was his night. He just wanted it to be entertaining.

That’s the other interesting thing. My instinct in the garage is to show up and have it be an active conversation with contributions from both people. I insert myself into the talk. That’s what I do. 

I just put on a different hat. I wanted to make it a great night for him and remove myself from the equation in terms of feeling that I had to interject myself and just do it for Larry. I wanted to be funny but I wanted it to just be in service to him. The audience was there to see him. I was a special guest and probably not the one the audience was expecting. 

So, I freaked out all day, filled my head with his life and work, made my notes and just got out there on stage. I brought him out and we had the best time. I respected his boundaries around what I knew he was comfortable with and just made it a good space for him to be funny and entertaining. I got a few lines in but I just wanted him to be happy. 

It was a blast. He loved it. We had fun. Which I think is rare for both of us. I know it is for me. 

You’ll just have to take my word on it. It only exists as memory for all involved, including the audience. 

Today I talk to Alejandro Escovedo. He’s an amazing songwriter and musician who has been out there for years making great music. He’s had quite a heavy life and I’m a huge fan. It was great talking to him. On Thursday I talk to comic Dina Hashem about her life growing up Muslim in America and how she represents that on stage. Also a great talk. 

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

To Disarm the Darkness.

Atlanta and Boise, People!

I had a good time on these last couple of tour dates. I never really know what to expect. I don’t know why that is. I’ve been doing this a while. 

I have been going to Atlanta for a long time. The past has become kind of present lately. I’m not sure what happened to time during the pandemic but it seems like everything that happened before it is something I have to excavate out of my memory and put in chronological order. I’ve been to some cities many times over the years, in many different venues. 

This was definitely the second time I performed at the Buckhead Theatre in Atlanta. It was a great show. The last time I was there I didn’t have a great time. The show started too early at 7 and I was mad about it. People were straggling in until 7:35. Not their fault. Atlanta has insanely bad traffic and Friday is a weeknight but I didn’t want to penalize the people who must’ve left the night before to get to the show on time, so it was just a disjointed show. 

I told my booker that I didn’t want to start any shows before 8 but for some reason it was set at 7 again and I lost my shit a bit but then realized I can just talk to the people. I got on the God Mic from backstage, let them know the situation, made a few jokes, had the sound guy crank the song list I made and we all just hung out for a while listening to music until most of the people got there. 

I think that it became kind of part of the show. Made it more intimate, connected. 

I don’t always understand why I do the material I do. Lately I have been pretty hard on myself and bordering on embarrassment about some of the things I’m talking about. I guess this is the challenge, my method. 

My last special opened a zone for me to go deeper and darker personally to see if I can get it to funny. Some of the new stuff is jarring and a bit disturbing  and I don’t always know how it’s going to land. I have to believe through repetition it will find its footing. It is. When it starts to take hold I can riff about similar things and go a little weirder. Good times.

I wish I could just do jokes but I’d be bored. I have some that I like and I do them. Because of my process I do walk away from shows wondering what I’m trying to do. It seems to be to disarm the darkness within me and hopefully other people.

Why can't I just be entertaining, a song and dance man? Why do I have to put myself through it every show in front of people?

I guess that’s my thing. Keeps me on my toes and I haven’t had to run away yet.

I had to be reminded that I had been to Boise years ago on a tour with Andy Kindler and Eugene Merman. We played a rock club called Neurolux. I asked the 700 plus people at the Egyptian, where I played this time, if any of them had gone. No one had. I kind of remember it being like forty people, maybe standing. I didn’t go back there to check it out. It would’ve been like returning to the scene of the trauma. I guess it could’ve been a therapeutic full circle experience but I didn’t have the gumption.

The Egyptian was a great old movie theater. That style of theater was seemingly popular at some point. There’s an Egyptian Theater in Hollywood. The one in Boise was stunning. Whoever designed it must have been or have known an Egyptologist. The detail is almost frightening. Like you're performing in an actual ancient holy place. I didn’t want to piss off Ra or Anubis. I hope they were entertained. I believe the people from Boise were. 

Today I talk to Tig Notaro. We talked a long time ago. Before she went through most of the things that defined her life and career at this point. On Thursday I talk to actor David Krumholtz who has been in many things and you probably know him. I like him. Kindred spirits. Good week. 

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

Bits and Talks.

Old friends, People!

I talked to Dave Attell for today's episode. I’ve known him for about 35 years. That's a long time. I’m old. He’s old. Not really old but getting there.

It's a strange thing, this getting older. There were years when I just felt like I was a comic among comics. I was frozen in a timeless state. I have no kids. I’ve been through stuff but I really think that having kids makes it very clear that you are aging. Your responsibilities change. Some part of you gives into a type of adulthood and reality about aging that I just never experienced. I’ve been frozen at around 35 for years. Now I’m finding that I’m 15 to 20 years older than many of my peers and it feels like it happened overnight. The night of my 60th birthday.

It’s okay, just odd. Dave Attell is in a similar boat. We’re a couple of aging, childless comics and oddly, but not completely surprising, we talk a lot about our aging parents. I don’t think I have any regrets about my life other than I feel a bit like I was delusional or I am a bit stunted. The only thing I guess that is unknown is if there is any way I’m going to change other than just getting older. I’m not being cynical, just realistic. I think I can handle it. I think I’m going to have to.

One of my best friends is 10 years older than me. So I am getting a bit of a preview. It’s not great, it just is. I was on stage the other night and said, ‘I’m sixty. I didn’t think I would make it this far. I’m not thrilled that I did. Because from what I can tell it doesn’t get better from here.’ It’s true. It’s a bit terrifying but painfully real and just the way life is.

I think it was a great time to talk to Dave. He’s really still one of the best comics ever. No one is quicker and no one is a better joke writer. I don’t know if he thinks that but most comics do. I don’t really know how people think of me. Now that I’m hitting this age it feels like I have to really look back at what I’ve done with my life and believe that it was important or impactful or relevant. I have to believe that without kids the best I can do is assess how I’ve grown up or haven’t, how my ideas have evolved. It’s tricky, gleaning meaning from the process of life if you don’t procreate. Again, no regrets about not doing it. I wasn’t cut out for it, but what does it all mean?

I don’t think about it much. I just wait for the new bits.

New bits make it all worth it. Then they become old bits and just fade into the rearview. Even the specials I have done. So many bits. Most people have never seen them. I’ve done over 1,500 interviews. This is the work, bits and talks.

I will say that when someone comes up to me and says ‘that bit you did 20 years ago stuck with me’ or ‘that talk you did changed my life’ I feel like my kids are out there making a difference in the world.

That’s not nothing and I don’t have to send them money.

As I said, today I talk to Attell. On Thursday I talk to the great Eddie Pepitone. He’s another old, childless bit-maker. Good week.

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

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