It Takes Awhile.

Good morning, People.

I’m sitting in the Montreal airport two hours too early watching the sun come up listening to Wynton Marsalis’ first album. I really had no idea. I’m trying to wrap my brain around the whole Jazz thing so I’m reading a book by Nate Chinen that he sent me himself. At the end of every chapter there’s a list of the albums that he talked about. There so much I don’t know and may never know but I now know that Wynton Marsalis is a monster on that fucking horn and a genius.

I know, I know. You knew that and I’m late to the party. There is no late to the party. The music is always there waiting. Sometimes it takes a while.

I got an amazing email, out of nowhere, through my website from the actual Donald Fagen saying, “I knew you’d eventually come around.” Hilarious.

How’s it going with you? Exciting times. Watching our racist shitbag of a president gain confidence and watching once reasonable people lapse and buckle into intolerance and garabgemindedness is an ongoing horror. I hope you’re all holding up and holding onto something inside yourselves that is righteous and provides a sliver of hope.

At the very least, maybe have a fun breakfast or a nice piece of melon. Listen to some music. Enjoy the company of people you like. Help someone out. Don’t kill yourselves.

The Just for Laughs Festival up here in Montreal was fine. I did a nice, solid 1:50 show for people who wanted to be there. Got some work done. Looking forward to pounding it out more in Raleigh, NC this weekend. I also did a GLOW panel with Liz Flahive, Carly Mensch, Betty Gilpin, Britney Young, Kimmy Gatewood and Rebekka Johnson moderated by Rachel Bloom. It was a fun panel. Packed out room. Everyone seems excited about the new Season which drops August 9th.

AND August 9th is also my sober anniversary. Twenty fucking years, people. That is crazy. As I was walking out of my room at the hotel this morning at four a.m. I saw a group of young women following some dude down the hall to what I assume was a party in someone’s room. They were all clearly hammered. I guess they were having fun? As I walked by with my bags one of them slurred, “have a good trip.” I said, “Thank you.” I didn’t judge them. I’ve been there. I am just so fucking relieved it wasn’t me going to that party. Grateful.

Of course, it would’ve have been much sadder if I were going because I’m fucking 55 years old. I get the whole youth thing. I get it.

Because of my excitement about his book Fantasyland, I sought out Kurt Andersen and talked to him about it and other things. He started SPY magazine back in the day and is a smart, thoughtful guy about some big things. That talk is up today. On Thursday I talk to Juston McKinney. He’s a comic that started a few years after me in Boston. He used to be a cop and his story is kind of crazy. Good talks.


Boomer lives!