Aging out, Folks.
It’s happening. It has been happening for a minute. I can’t keep up. More importantly, I don’t care and I don’t want to.
The amount of energy and time it takes to stay in the game and in front of it in terms of publicity is just daunting and exhausting. I would hate to be starting out now. It’s hard and delicate to not seem desperate. On top of trying to sort out who you are or who you want to be in the public sphere. So much yammering.
I’ve been accused of ageism by olds because of my comments about rock stars performing well past their prime. It’s not ageism. I just don’t want to see them anymore. I do believe there is something to be said for hanging it up if you aren’t working at the top of your game. I also know that sometimes their game can shift and morph into something that suits their current vibe in life and that’s great. I still might not want to see them. It’s not ageism. It’s heartbreak. It’s my own grappling with mortality.
The fact is I love the music of some artists that was done when they were vital and electric. It has its own place in my heart and spirit. It is eternal. The artists are not. It’s fine with me that they keep plugging. It’s inspiring to some people. Not to me. It’s just sad somehow. Many of the artists just spend their life hacking themselves into the casket. Some evolve with the years and that’s interesting. I guess my point is, again, I’m not ageist, I’d just rather keep their music alive and magic as it was. Much of it came out as a fury of life and a fuck you to time. I keep it there.
I’m saying all this because I was so moved by the few clips I saw of Ozzy and Black Sabbath from his farewell concert. It was beautiful. Because Ozzy is one of the best. Despite his age and his illness he was always able to tap into the chaotic magic that made him amazing. Iggy is the same way. I just so respect someone who bows out because they know it’s time. The power of that is overwhelming but it is not sad in the same way as being your own nostalgia act.
In other news, someone is dropping bags of dog shit behind my hedges in my front yard in the same spot every time. I found three bags there the other day. It’s interesting what my brain does with things like that. I had to process whether or not I thought it was personal, an attack of some kind. A sign. Was someone trying to dog shit me out of the neighborhood? A day after I found the bags, I had a plumber come by and he stepped in a large wad of gum right in front of my gate. I asked him if he thought it was put there intentionally. He said, ‘Maybe.’
I was trying to connect the shit bags and the gum as a planned assault on my home. Then I realized if someone really wanted to make a threatening impact it would probably be less subtle and silly. More likely someone is just in the habit of dropping their shit bags there which is fucked up as well but not deeper than that.
People have suggested getting a camera out there to catch the shit bag villain but I’m not sure I want to spend time on that project. If I catch them, I’ll say something. Given today’s cultural tone they may double down on their shit-bagging intentions and there may be a feud that ends up with me shitting in my neighbor’s yard. We’ll see.
I’ve decided that the gum was not connected to the shit.
Today I talk to actor Alexander Skarsgård about Sweden and acting and stuff. Thursday I talk to comedian Dustin Chafin. An old school comic talk. Also on Thursday, we'll play some of my Full Maron bonus interview with wrestler Darby Allin who just climbed Mount Everest.
Enjoy!
Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!
Love,
Maron
