Too much bread and cake, People.
It’s got to stop. I made cornbread for no reason and ate it. Then Michaela Watkins and her husband Fred came over a day later with a shit ton of food from Bavel which they left here. Like nine kinds of Middle Eastern bread and spreads and lamb’s neck shawarma and chicken tagine. And fuck me.
It doesn’t matter if I eat ALL my feelings. Seems there’s plenty oozing from the well of sadness within. Steady flow with occasional gushing. Also, I can just get fat as fuck. Who cares? We aren’t going to be shooting Glow until 2021 and there’s no standup happening. So, fuck it, right? Except for cholesterol. Fuck that too, right? Let’s live it up! It’s all ending. Probably in the back of a truck for many. Just like I give my old man Monkey nice chicken and liver that I cook for him to give him his meds. Now I’ll just give it to him because he loves it and he’s dying. We all are. Enjoy.
I didn’t sign up to be the sad guy crying alone in his bed at midnight talking to his old cat who is on his last legs. The trauma and shock and emotional paralysis and PTSD from the event of Lynn’s death is now receding and a deep sense of loss is settling in. So, I cry alone sometimes with my cat. My immediate feeling is that it is pathetic and embarrassing. Then I realized… to who? Me? I guess so. What’s that about? Working on it. I am choosing to see it as tragic and human and not judge myself too harshly. Life happens to you sometimes. People are removed. Monkey knows. He was licking me and telling me he’s trying to hang on as long as possible until I get settled into the sadness and he can move on. I swear he basically said that. He’s wheezy. I told him to tell me when he’s ready to go. He has been telling me in the morning but I wait and by the afternoon he wants to stay. It’s tricky.
I am trying to show my gratitude to my friends. I’m relatively polite in a brash way generally. Trying to connect the gratitude to the humility and vulnerability and express it with minimal tears. These are the times when you really find out which friends are who they say they are.
Today I talk to a friend. A real friend. Tom Scharpling. He’s been on the show a couple of times and we’ve done several Marc and Tom Shows but this is just us hanging out talking about stuff back in May before the darkness came. It’s a reminder of how important it is to sit and talk with friends about nothing in particular. It’s what life is about sometimes. Though this talk seems to take some shape.
On Thursday I talk to comedian Chris Fairbanks through a plexiglass partition six feet away with the windows open. Great talks.
Enjoy!
Boomer lives!
Love,
Maron
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