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

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