It Bends You or Builds You.

Hanging in, People.
 
Someone brought me a banana bread. A big one. So, that’s happening. I froze half of it thinking that would slow me down but it’s pretty easy to just get a piece out of the freezer. I don’t know why I am writing about this. I think it’s because as I write this I’m trying to talk myself out of defrosting a piece because I’ve already had two. This is my life right now. The struggle continues. 
 
Some days, I really can’t take what is happening in the world. I know I was cynical before, angry. Occasionally, I feel defeated. Now that I see the world through the new hole in my heart it’s challenging to ground myself in any hope. Everyday feels like a week. I wake up early and I have a full week’s worth of feelings by the time I crash. 
 
Eat some banana bread. 
 
I’m half-grateful for the quarantine just because it gives me time to just feel and watch where the feelings go. Let them happen. I love my house. I have good people in my life. I am grateful to be working. I have been reading and thinking and playing guitar and cooking and exercising and talking to new people every week. I am ok. Me? Ok. World? I don’t know. 
 
I have become born again terrified of the Covid. I have taken to wearing a mask and a hat with a plastic shield. Looks a little crazy but it makes me feel better. Who knows what the fuck is up with this virus? No one is in charge and they don’t seem to really know what the fuck this bug is and what it can do. 
 
Wear your fucking mask. 
 
I still spend a lot of time wondering about my cat Monkey. He has good days and bad days. He’s been sleeping by my head at night. Which is nice. He’s become very frail and sweet. I’m glad he’s hung in this long. It really would’ve been too much for me to take if he had died. I don’t know though. How do we know what we can take? It seems that most people take what life gives them and how it bends you or builds you is how you become defined, shaped. It could always go either way. You get bigger or you get broken. Humbling either way. Humanity. Wisdom? Sadness. 
 
I’m a little less full-time sad. It’s been two months since Lynn passed. It’s heavy on my heart and there is no place to hide and not a lot of ways to dodge it. I had a dream the other night that we were kissing and I told her that I was so happy she wasn’t dead because I was tired of jerking off thinking about her. Then I woke up. It's sad, but kind of funny. What a cruel brain I have when it's left to its own devices. 
 
I talk to Colin Jost today. Good guy. Solid. Funny. Even if he is a ‘Harvard Guy.' On Thursday I talk to Jim Carrey. I think it went well. Great talks. 

Enjoy!

Love,

Maron

Relentless.

Wow, relentless, People.
 
The full-on brain fuck of this current moment in history is fucking RELENTLESS. It’s seemingly out of our control because of the mass popularity of stupidity and believing in one or all of these: entitlement-based fairy tales, dumb dumb Christian eschatology, fascist visions of white monoculture and/or just ‘fuck it.’ I can definitely understand that last one and a little bit of the first one. 
 
My Covid test came back negative on Wednesday night. So, now, if I just don’t go anywhere or talk to anyone or rub my face on the surface of an infected person I’ll be okay for a while. 
 
It seems that a lot of people are back to the ‘hey, it’s not that bad, yeah it’ll kill some people, but probably not me’ thinking which is fucking ridiculous and leads to ‘fuck it’ behavior and blood on your hands and maskless face. 
 
There is nothing I can do but what I can do. Right now, I am sitting on my porch watching masked people amble by. It is pleasant out, but there seems to be mosquitos trying to fuck up the small amount of peace of mind I have here. RELENTLESS. 
 
The grief experience seems to be evolving. When I realized I had shifted all my fear and sadness onto my old cat Monkey and whether or not he is dying, I broke down. Came through it. Have some acceptance around that but I’m realizing that with this grief door open I’m seeing my life differently. I seem to be looking back at all the different lives I’ve lived and all of the different traumas and heartbreaks and losses that went un-grieved and this moment is lighting those up. Not in a bad way. I seem to be approaching these memories of the different versions of me with some empathy and allowing the feelings to come. Going over the sad tally, missing Lynn. 
 
Grief will definitely land you in you. 
 
The other side of those feelings is the idea of will I ever be happy or content or in love or passionate again. I don’t know. I imagine I will. With the world the way it is currently it’s hard to imagine any of us (like-minded people) feeling sustained happiness again or even just anything but fear. Was that ever possible?
 
My porch is great right now. 
 
Today on the show I talk to John Legend who is a lovely person. Surprise, in case you thought he was a dick or something. On Thursday I talk to another truly lovely person, Helen Mirren. Love her. Great talks. 

Enjoy!

Love,

Maron

Up and Down.

On and on it goes, Folks.
 
Waves of grief. Vet visits. Covid paranoia. Home cooked bread. Up and down. 
 
It’s been so long since I’ve had any good news, really. I think I’d forgotten what it feels like. Even just a smidge of good news. Just a taste. 
 
Last week was emotional insanity for me. On Thursday I decided I was ready to take the old cat in. I had decided, given my experience with his sister, that he had begun kidney failure. He seemed distressed. I really didn’t want him to get to the point of pain and insanity that LaFonda did. I thought I would preempt that somehow. When I took LaFonda to the vet the doctor assured me that it was time. So, with that in mind I took Monkey in, knowing that I would most likely not take him home. It’s an awful surrender but necessary if you own an old cat or any pet. I was ready. I thought. 
 
I drove to Gateway here in LA on Los Feliz. I wanted to go that day because my vet, Dr. Modesto, was in and they would let me be with the cat when they put him down. You can’t go into the building now but they’ll let you do that. That’s really the only way to do it. It’s horrible but deep and correct and for whatever difference it makes, you are there with them. Something that didn’t happen with me and Lynn, sadly. 
 
Before the doctor saw him, he called me. I ended up breaking down and telling him about Lynn and just how shitty the month has been and now this with Monkey. It was probably more than he needed to hear but that’s who I am now. The guy who cries.
 
I waited in the parking lot for about a half hour. I was talking to my buddy, Sam Lipsyte. I was starting to come emotionally unhinged. I think it was all coming down on me. The entirety of my grief running through this last act with Monkey. I was bawling but ready. So I thought. 
 
When they came out to get the cat they pulled his box out of the back seat and he cried and that just leveled me. I was crying my eyes out. When they took Lynn away in the ambulance that was the last time I saw her. Everything was getting confused in the cloud of grief. Lipsyte told me Monkey was just freaked out. Which was probably true. I pulled it together and got off the phone. I waited over an hour. I wanted the doctor to give him a blood test to determine whether or not he was in kidney failure. If he wasn’t I wanted them to give him some fluids. After a very long time Modesto called me and said the tests looked okay and that he gave him fluids and I could take him home. 
 
It was good news. Granted, he’s old and sick and dying but not that day. It felt great. A reprieve from the grief. I’ll take it. I just have to fully accept that he’s old and that he’ll just be a frail, old guy until he dies naturally or I take him back in when it's really time. I’m not going to freak out constantly. About that…
 
On Friday I felt under the weather and of course decided I got Covid somewhere. I obsessed on that for a few days until I realized I really didn’t have any symptoms other than a temperature of 99. 1 and I didn’t feel right. I feel okay now but I’m getting a test tomorrow.
 
Tom Papa brought over a home cooked bread on Saturday. He’s a good baker. Like, really good. He made me a Sourdough Country Loaf. He’s got a future as a breadmaker for sure. 
 
Today I talk to Alan Zweibel. He was a writer on the first season of SNL, It’s Garry Shandling’s Show, movies and books. Great guy. On Thursday I talk to comedian George Lopez about comedian stuff. Great talks!

Enjoy!

Love,

Maron

The Original Crew.

I really don’t know if I can take it, folks…
 
So much loss around. Global and national on the macro and it keeps coming on the micro. 
 
I’m just trying to wrap my brain around accepting that Monkey is about done. I have had him just shy of 16 years and he’s about 16 years old. He was already feral when I trapped him and his siblings in August of 2004. They were about three months old. Ferals always stay a little skittish, twitchy, ready to split or take a shot. Monkey was always timid and nervous. His sister, LaFonda, the runt, was a fighter. 
 
It’s really hard to know when to let a cat go, take them in, ease them out. It’s hard until it isn’t. We’re about there. I think I can take it. I have been preparing. 
 
I don’t know if it’s transference or just being human. I don’t know if I’m healthy or confused. I’ve been half ready for Monkey to die for months, maybe a year. He’s been sick. I was in no way ready for Lynn to die. Why would I be? It never even crossed my mind. I’m haunted by the fact that when she was sick in my house she was dying. I was treating a fever, she was fighting for her life. I keep thinking I would have acted differently if I knew she was dying. Of course I would have but I didn’t because why would I have even thought that? The fact remains, she was. She is gone. 
 
I’ve known Monkey is sick. He’s given me over a month of what may be borrowed time or maybe he knew I needed him around. I cherished that time and stayed connected with him daily for hours. I talked to him. I told him I loved him and he’s been with me through so much. I can use him as a marker for so many of the events that have happened in my life over the last 16 years. I told him. I cried. He snuggled up and took it. 
 
I could do that with him. I didn’t with Lynn. I didn’t know she was dying. 
 
He’s in distress now. He’s not really purring or taking the love. He seems distant, out of it. He’s drinking a lot of water. He’s struggling. He’s making deep grumbling noises and whimpers. It’s time. 
 
I’ll take him today, unless I don’t because he seems chipper. 
 
I believe I’m ready. I believe he is. 
 
He was of the original crew of cats that actually defined my broadcasting voice. I found it in the stories of those cats. Monkey, LaFonda, Meanie and Hissy. The crew. Meanie split when he got the chance. Hissy was adopted by some nice lady. Monkey and LaFonda made it out west, became celebrities, notorious. Lived large, great, full lives. 
 
Today I talk to Janelle Monet. She is one of the most talented people alive. On Thursday I talk to Nora McInery about grief, which has become her calling. Great talks. 

Enjoy!

Love,

Maron

Seeing Signs.

Ebbs and Flows, Folks.
 
I’m ok. Wait…
 
I am okay. Monkey is okay. Kind of. I took the old man into the vet thinking he was pretty much on his last legs, which he is, got him his shot of cortisone for his asthma, some pills and subcutaneous fluids and he seems okay. He’s not leaving yet. Which is good. I think it's enough time (one month) since Lynn passed that I can get back to sort of expecting Monkey to go soon, naturally. Whether or not she had anything to do with keeping him around for now I don’t know. Slipping into the mystical. Looking for connection. Seeing signs. Happens. 
 
It’s been hard looking at pics or videos of her. Just too painful. It’s not immediately painful but then a geyser of emotion comes gurgling out of my guts and heart. I watched a selfie vid of her singing along with Kool and the Gang’s ‘Get Down On It’ that she shot in my living room and I got ten seconds in and lost my shit. Still can get the song out of my head. 
 
Her friend Jim and I were finally able to bring her car back to where she leased it from. It was so sad sitting out there in front of my house. It was the last piece of practical business that needed to be done. The day before we took it down I went out to start it and it was dead.  Did she not want me to take it away? Is she worried I will forget her? Signs. 
 
Before I took Monkey in he was acting weird and sick and hanging out in the room that Lynn was dying in. He never hangs out in there. Is he dying too now or is she telling me to remember? I’m not going to forget. I will look at the pictures. I will sing the songs. I will watch the videos. I will read the writing. Eventually. I am lost in the memory of her most of the time because it’s not a memory, or memories. It's genetic now. It’s part of my blood and mind and heart and spirit. 
 
I closed the door to that room. Some of her stuff is in there. That’s where she fought the monster. I go in. I sit sometimes. 
 
I figured out how to jump a hybrid and we took the car down South to Cerritos. It didn’t die because of mystical shit. It died because it’s a hybrid and wasn’t self-charging for a month. Yeah, that’s it. 
 
We got it to the lot, dropped it off and then me and Jim masked up and he got in my car. As we set out to drive back to LA ,I rolled down the window and the speakers on the car lot were blaring ‘Get Down On It.’ Yes. It is true. 
 
I get it. I will not forget you, Lynn. Especially if you keep hanging around. 
 
Today I talk to the singular Joe Pantoliano. Joey Pants. Great actor. Great guy. Jersey. Thursday, first I talk to J-L Cauvin about his Trump impression and then to comedian Amber Preston about her comedy and life and stuff. Midwest. 

Enjoy!

Love,

Maron

Processing.

Onward into it, People.
 
Week Four of this horrible process of grieving for me. Week Three of the protests and grieving in the streets. Year Four of the grieving for this country under this administration. Three months and counting into the pandemic. Today I have Jerry Seinfeld on the show. 
 
I think the most difficult thing about grief for me at this time is what the mind seems to focus on. I’m heading into my fourth week here. Lynn has been cremated. Most of the practical responsibilities on my end have been done. There is a death certificate I have seen with a cause of death. Undiagnosed Acute Myelogenic Leukemia. There is some closure. My brain keeps going back to that week, to that day, to the hospital when I saw her body in the ICU. Now, with a cause of death, I go back further into the last few months. Looking for clues. She had many health issues and small symptoms could easily be lumped into more chronic discomforts that didn’t seem menacing. Could it have gone another way? Was there more I could’ve done? The answer is no. It went the way it went and I did everything I could. I was there for her all the way through. We didn’t know what was happening. 
 
The brain wants to blame. In my case, my brain wants to blame me for something. Fortunately, I have done enough work on myself to understand that and sort things out. Grief is hard enough without emotional self-immolation. I have been in constant touch with a core group of friends helping me through this. I have not been talking to people who are friends but emotionally incapable of creating space for my grief. I’ll catch up with them later. 
 
I have been meeting with a therapist to specifically work through the trauma of that last week, finding her collapsed on the floor, calling the ambulance, the last day of her life and seeing her body. I’ve been really feeling the pain around those events. After doing some EMDR and moving through all of them I was able to realize that I did do all I could and Lynn was exactly where she wanted to be, with me. I was where I wanted to be, with her and able to take care of her the best I could. We had a good time together. Right up until those last few days. 
 
I’ve been able to start looking at pictures of her and us again. It’s nice. 
 
It’s day to day but I’m doing okay. 
 
In the beginning, WTF was a comedy podcast. I talked to comedians almost exclusively. Over the years it has become a large tapestry exploring the history of comedy. There are many people I would like to have on that I can’t for one reason or another. I didn’t think Jerry Seinfeld would ever come on and I was okay with that but… today I talk to Jerry Seinfeld. It is definitely a unique talk with that guy. On Thursday, if all goes as planned, I will talk to Stacey Abrams about the state of the country, the state of herself and the state of electoral politics most likely. 
 
Enjoy!

Love,

Maron

Loss.

Trying to deal, People.
 
I’m able to breathe a bit, finally. So much sadness was inside of me and not coming out it was literally hard to breathe. I’m getting some air now. I’ve been crying on and off. Seemingly out of nowhere. I’m just overwhelmed with crying. It doesn’t even seem to be connected to sadness or a thought. Maybe I’m just filled up with the sadness and eventually it just needs to be relieved. Let some tears out. Bursting at the seams with the sadness. 
 
Sometimes I am triggered to cry. Odd things. Like her pink winter gloves which were sitting on the dresser. I couldn’t give them away. She had them on our trip to Ireland a few months ago. I just looked at them and lost it. 
 
Now the world is on fire and there is knee-pressing at the back of all our necks and no one with a sense of justice and conscience can breathe. Sadly, because of my personal grief, which I am rightfully consumed with, it's hard for me to even wrap my brain around what is happening to the country, emotionally. I do know that I was and am powerless over the death of my girlfriend and that compounds the loss. I do know that we feel powerless in relation to the actions of murderous police and the encroaching possibility of fascism but I also know that what is happening is what it looks like when people take back their power or fight the good fight to try. 
 
I have to stay in the moment because given the state of the country and the state of my heart if I think about tomorrow it gets very bleak. Dealing. 
 
Three shows this week. Today I talk to Jefferey Wright about his acting work and his activism. We talked before the events of this week and before Lynn passed. Actually, all of the talks this week are before both these sad events. I talk to guitarist GE Smith on Wednesday and actor Chris Cooper on Thursday. Big week. 

Enjoy!

Love,

Maron

Thank You.

Thank you, Listeners.
 
I mean that. Thanks. 
 
I’ve gotten literally thousands of emails from you and it really helps. I’m not great getting my emotions to the surface once they’ve started to submerge themselves. Knowing you all are there helps me feel like the space is there to do it. I appreciate that. 
 
I’ve been dealing ok. The feelings come in waves and sometimes I get consumed with the sadness. This last week had been horrendous and harrowing. I’ve had to move through a lot of stuff—like her actual stuff. Just heartbreaking. 
 
I’m not going to write too much here yet. Just know I am feeling the feelings. I am not drinking or using drugs. I am not using nicotine. I am in touch with people who love me many times of day. I hope that addresses some of the concerns that some of you have. 
 
I believe I will be okay. I believe I will be funny again. I believe I won’t fall permanently into a pit of crushed-hearted sadness. 
 
Lynn wouldn’t have wanted that. 
 
I talk to Sam Bee today, from before the horror, and Kenya Barris on Thursday, from before the horror. Great talks. 
 
Enjoy!

Love,

Maron

Testing.

How’s it going, People?
 
Another week of weirdness and fear and not knowing. Tiring. Though I think I’m getting used to it. I don’t know if that’s good. 
 
It was a quick adaptation to wearing the mask outdoors in the world or shopping or whatever. Doesn’t bother me too much. I’ve figured out how and when to take it on and off when I’m running. Mostly for other people’s benefit, sometimes for mine. Does this mean I’m just a frightened sheep doing what I’m told? I guess. I don’t want to get sick. I don’t want to be a frightened sheep with COVID-19. That would be baaaaad. 
 
It’s been a rough week. Lynn Shelton is staying with me and somehow, she got sick. Really sick. So, right when the symptoms started--sore throat, fever, low energy--I freaked out. I was sure we had the sickness. She went out and got tested at a drive-up operation behind our union clinic. Yes, you can just do that here in California. Get tested. Which is what the entire nation should be able to do so we can fucking know what we are up against and where we are at. I digress. What an amazing thing, to be able to get tested. I am very happy to be living in this state at this time. She said the test was not great. Swabbed. She said she felt like she got her brain tickled. 
 
She tested negative. No COVID. For some reason I thought that was only sickness you could get now. Like all the other sicknesses were laying low. I couldn’t figure out or accept how she could get something. In the rare instance we do anything around people, like food shop, we mask up, glove up, keep a distance. Her getting sick is a testament to her uniqueness, but more importantly a lesson in the fact that we can’t see or stop these fucking bugs, bacteria, viruses. All we can do is be as safe as possible. I’m sorry she’s sick but relieved it’s not the thing. Who the fuck knows what that thing is? What it can do. We know so little and are learning new scary shit every day and there are so many dumb dumbs that assume they know enough and don’t give a shit. Annoying.
 
Riding it out. It’s really not getting much better out there. I’m getting used to it. Weird. 
 
Monkey is doing better btw. 
 
Today I talk to Cate Blanchett. It’s the second time I talked to her. The first time it didn’t record. I’ll explain that on the show. On Thursday I talk to film director Eliza Hittman about her new film Never Rarely Sometimes Always and all her other films. Also, a little bonus short chat with Dan Savage on Thursday. Great talks! 
 
Enjoy!

Love,

Maron

Something Has Relaxed.

What day is it, People?
 
What time is it?
 
Does it matter? No.
 
It’s an odd feeling when no day is any different than the other. At least for me it isn’t. There is something freeing about this pestilent pause. The baseline is fear, layers of fear, fear on top of fears for many, no end to the fear. Around us is a degree of quiet that I don’t think I have ever heard in a city. It’s peaceful and horrifying simultaneously. 
 
I feel no pressure to do anything other than try not to get sick (or fat). I’m not going stir crazy. I’m not even bored. My sense of time has spread out relative to the pace of life now and my days feel full. I’m spending time with Lynn here at the house and we’re not even driving each other crazy. At least she says that I’m not. 


I’m going through my shit. I’m throwing shit away. I’m arranging, organizing, thinking and doing the work.  Something has relaxed in my mind during the day to the point that when I wake up in the middle of the night freaking out it’s pretty pure. 
 
Waking consciousness is a wide-open state. No filters and a blurry line between reality and dream. It’s there that I get terrified about my own mortality (including getting sick and dying), the future and whether or not my cat is going to die soon. I tend use all of my fears as bats to beat the shit out of myself with. In every scenario. Somehow, it’s all my fault. 
 
Just to let you know, the only way out of this beating is some fairly dramatic self-talk like, ‘I’m done.’ Done with what exactly? Whatever it is that I think is causing me anxiety. Work, living in this country, eating, life, cats, etc. It really doesn’t mean I am ‘done.’ It’s just comforting. I am working on some other ways to deal with it in the acceptance realm. I’ll let you know how that goes. 
 
Today I have an amazing conversation with actress Laura Linney and it was done over the video interface platform thingy. It was encouraging. She is a truly lovely person. On Thursday I have a courageous conversation with Whitmer Thomas about his new comedy special ‘The Golden One’ and his life. Heavy. That talk wasn’t courageous because of the content, it was courageous because he came over. We kept the appropriate distance. Great talks. 
 

Enjoy!

Love,

Maron

Counterintuitive.

Jesus, we’re still in it, People.
 
Will be for a while it seems. 
 
It’s strange. I just realized I have not watched one of the President’s briefings. Not one. I’m not even avoiding them. I don’t even know where to watch them. The point is I give zero fucks about anything he has to say. Zero. Am I angry? Absolutely. Do I need to ignite that as often as possible? Absolutely not. I read some news every day. I get up to speed. There’s a bit less now. Just horror show real life nightmare news about this plague and the death it is causing and how this administration doesn’t care and will not provide leadership or supplies. Those are the two news threads. The rest is just celebrities showing up in boxes on your computer doing things. Sometimes alone, sometimes together. 
 
It’s moving, don’t get me wrong. 
 
Also, I just want you to remember that the charade you are seeing as right wing pushback in the form of protests in front of Governor’s mansions is theater. Bad theater. Privately-funded-by-rich-conservatives bad theater. It’s the same play wherever it shows up. Angry morons in a variety of threatening and/or racist uniforms or militia/townie rock garb with Trump paraphernalia saying their freedom is being infringed upon by legally enforced restrictions to stop the spread of a deadly disease. Just remember this isn’t what America looks like. It’s not even what half of America looks like. It’s a few confused, angry, loser stooges who will never get their minds back doing blind capitalism’s bidding. They just cant wait. Fucking children.
 
I get that some people are really in trouble financially, as is the whole economy. It just seems counterintuitive to keep spreading the disease. 
 
In other news I listened to the new Fiona Apple album like every other high-minded, broken, sensitive, soft-hearted aesthete looking for some genius. It does not disappoint. Solid record. I though her last one was difficult to listen to because the emotional rawness seemed out of control in a way that she wasn’t quite comfortable with. On this record she seems to have harnessed all that she is and tethered it to an eclectic palette of rhythms and grooves. The poetry is solid. There is no shortage of risk taking. The vision is clear and she is grounded as fuck and it's beautiful to hear. 
 
I have nothing against Bob Dylan. I love him like a grandfather. I just try to remind myself that just because someone is a genius doesn’t mean that everything they do is a work of genius. I think Bob has been honing his last words for the last few years supported by a great band and we are getting closer. I’m not sure how sage he is at this point, despite boomer overreaction, but he is nostalgic and getting quite good at illuminating his own dimming. 
 
Lynn made me watch a movie I had never heard that was amazing. I thought I should share. It’s called Locke and it stars Tom Hardy. It was made in 2013 and the entire film takes place in a car and it is emotionally riveting. Hardy is a fucking acting wizard and the direction and cinematography are stunning. The writing is also amazing. Check it out. It’s a unique piece of film art. 
 
Today I talk to Rosie O’Donnell. This is the first interview I did via video link up. I will have to get used to it. I think it sounds fine and it is good that I can have eye contact with the guest but it is certainly not the same as them walking through my life into my garage and creating that kind of intimacy. The connection of being face to face in the flesh. We have to make due and we will. On Thursday I talk to cinematographer and director Barry Sonnenfeld about doing both those things and his book. Great talks given the shift. 
 

Enjoy!

Love,

Maron

Squirrelly but Grateful.

Getting squirrelly, Folks?
 
Yes. It’s getting a bit weird. People are coming untethered. People are starting to snap. Many people are in big trouble financially. People are sick. People are dying. People are trying to save and help people. People are showing up for people. Some people are in a good bubble, some in a bad bubble. 
 
Some people are doing okay. They are doing fine. I am fine. I am lucky. I am grateful to be in the position I’m in. I can forget why this is all happening some days because my quality of life is fine. Good, even. It’s weird how quickly I adapted to wearing a mask, spacing myself, standing far from people I am talking to on the street on a walk, staying at home, mostly. 
 
I have to remind myself to extend my mind and empathy to the situation in our hospitals and all the people tirelessly trying to help in the midst of the viral shitshow of death. I also have to remember to extend my gratitude to people who are just doing jobs that sustain what we have left of our way of life and our survival. THANK YOU!
 
I’m selfish. I get lost in myself and my immediate reality. A few days ago I tweeted, ‘It’s still okay to just drive around with no destination for a few hours on a beautiful day, right?’
 
OMFG. It started a divisive Twitter shit storm of reactions that ranged from ‘NO! IF YOU GO OUT AND GET IN AN ACCIDENT YOU DRAW RESOURCES FROM PEOPLE WHO NEED THE MEDICAL ATTENTION FOR COVID!’ to ‘Fuck yeah, man! You have to get out for your sanity!’ Which is why I wanted to go. 
 
It’s a reasonable reading not to go out unless you need essential services. I get it. I ended up just driving to the supermarket by way of the 101 then the PCH back up the 10 to the 110 over to the 5. I needed to go to the supermarket. 
 
I know. I’m a monster. 
 
I’m grateful to my vet and the people that work there. I had to bring monkey in for a steroid shot for his asthma. I parked around back, called reception, someone came out and grabbed him, gave him the shot,  I paid on the phone, they brought him back out. I didn’t need to see a doctor but if I did, they were consulting in the parking lot. Monkey is doing better. 
 
This week I have my first two face to face talks with six feet between us with Taylor Tomlinson today and, coincidently, her boyfriend Sam Morrill on Thursday. Both funny comics with unique stories.
 

Enjoy!

Love,

Maron

Ventriloquism.

Chaos and quiet, People. 
 
Interesting combination. 
 
Here in the house and out on the street, peace. Down the street in the ER and in the hospitals and urgent care clinics, chaos. Pain. Death. Not in my house. It could happen to anybody though. That is becoming clearer. 
 
So, make your masks, keep your distance, cook some good things, think about what happens now and who you are. Be objective. Honest. If this ever passes, it will be nice to enter the new world being true to yourself and knowing who you are and what you are made of. 
 
All that being said, I talk to a ventriloquist today. I know. You’re wondering why, perhaps. Well, it’s some kind of closure for me.
 
I’ve certainly known of Jeff Dunham practically since I started doing comedy. We started around the same time I think. He was the puppet guy. I was a ‘real’ comic. He fell into the category of prop comics, guitar acts and hacks. He became huge. I floundered for years in obscurity. Of course I did. I was the ‘real deal.’ He was the guy with the puppets. Pandering. 
 
There was definitely an ‘us and them’ mentality for some of us when it came to a certain type of act. Now that I’m older I can see the performers that have found their place. He’s a very popular act. He has been for years. He’s an entertainer. He came up in comedy clubs. He’s not a ‘shitty’ comic. He’s an amazing ventriloquist. I knew that years ago. I also knew that when you watch him you can’t help but be impressed and wonder, ‘How the hell does he do that?’ It’s like watching magic. I don’t really watch much magic or ventriloquism but when I happen upon it I’m always impressed somehow.
 
So, when Jeff was pitched as a possible guest the old me thought, ‘Fuck no. The puppet guy?’ The new me thought, ‘Why not?’ Then I had to sit and think about how I would approach the talk. I got honest with myself.
 
When I was a kid, probably 7 or 8 years old, I was obsessed with ventriloquism. I imagine that’s when most kids are. I talked my parents (or maybe my grandparents) into getting me a dummy which was a pricey toy at the time. There was really only a couple available then. Charlie McCarthy and Mortimer Snerd. Edgar Bergen’s dolls. It was an outdated, old timey type of show business when I was kid but there was something about the idea of ‘throwing your voice’ that was exciting. I read about the real dummies being made out of wood and I wanted one of those. I was, in that moment, more fascinated with the doll itself than learning how to use it. My interest waned and eventually the dummy ended up stripped of its clothes and eventually just a head in a high school art project. 
 
The point is, I loved ventriloquism for a while as a kid. So, I went back to that place as an adult and started there to get mentally ready to talk to Jeff. It was a great talk. 
 
On Thursday I talk to Fran Drescher about being Fran Drescher. Good talk. 

Enjoy!

Love,

Maron

Nothing But Time.

Lock down, People

I don’t even know how long it’s been but I know it seems like it’s been longer. 
 
I do like the quiet. I like knowing I’m not missing out on anything. I like that I’m not sick. I feel bad for people who are. It’s a nasty bug. Deadly. 
 
I’m worried about my mom down in Florida. I just feel that it’s about to get really bad down there. I know it will be bad everywhere eventually but it seems that leadership there is a special kind of stupid. Proudly belligerent. All the seniors down there. So many people. Densely populated. Just worried. Hope for the best. 
 
We’ve been doing okay here at the house. I get dressed in the morning. I feel busy. Doing shit around the house. Cooking. Reading a little. Watching stuff. Running. I usually hike but they’ve closed all the trails so now I’m just running on the hard asphalt. I have no choice. 4 mile a few times a week. Dealing. 
 
I wish I was writing more. I wish I could get in touch with how I am feeling at my core and not just as a reaction to all the incoming garbage. I’m tired of commentary and speculation. I know it’s bad. I know how to stay safe, or as safe as I can. I know I have no control over most of what is happening. In that gap between incoming garbage and knowing what I can and cannot change I will have a life, in quarantine. I will think, assess. Figure out where I stand with myself and with this world. The big work. Godless. Grounded.
 
I watched The Passenger last night on The Criterion Channel. It’s an Antonioni movie. I have seen Blow Up and Red Desert. In all honesty, when I saw Red Desert I was in a film history class in college and had no idea what I was watching or why. I remember it was stunning and colorful but not unlike most art I felt like I was missing something. The genius or meaning was eluding me. It’s great to watch this stuff as an adult. I thought The Passenger was stunning and uniquely shot and conceived. I thought the way the story was stripped down was effective. It made me think. Many of the shots resonated in my mind. 
 
It was made in the seventies and it had a bleak ending. It explores existential themes like what is the self, meaning, courage, purpose, masculinity, truth. All the good stuff. Jack Nicholson stars in it. It’s always exciting to see the early work of a great artist for the first time, now. 
 
Today I talk to Ben Sinclair from HBO’s High Maintenance about being who he is. I thought he was a bit off when I watched the show. Turns out we have a lot in common. On Thursday I try to follow comic Byron Bower’s seeming stream of consciousness conversation. Great talks! 

Enjoy!

Love,

Maron

Find Out How You Can Help.

Let’s keep it together, People!
 
It’s hard not panic. For many reasons. Almost a bottomless pit of reasons—a rapidly evolving rabbit hole. 
 
I’m in and out of freaking out that I may have it. I don’t know if my chest gets tight because of the virus of because I’m freaking out which is something that happens to me. I carry almost all my stress in my chest. I wonder if I would know if I had it. When I think I do have it I hope its mild. When I read about the way the virus works the existential panic sinks in and nothing but bleakness fills my consciousness. That’s me being selfish. 
 
Because the real awareness has to be of the realities. Which are hard to wrap one’s brain around because our brains don’t want to do it. Most fears are selfish. ‘What’s going to happen to me.’ Or the selfishness of belligerent fearlessness based in ignorance, ‘I’m not going to get it and even if I do it’s not a big deal.’ In the first example, you very well could be doing all the right things. In the second example, there’s no way you could be doing anything good. In between these examples is just the basic human inability to really absorb what is really happening because it’s never happened and it’s utterly terrifying. 
 
We are all somewhat isolated in our lives outside of the pandemic. We have our circle of people, our work, our bubble. How connected are we really to the bigger picture, whatever picture that may be? We spend a lot of time looking at our phones, divvying up our time, distracting ourselves, prioritizing what info we’ve decided will define our reality. We don’t check in on the dead or dying or hospital workloads in our regular life. It’s something that happens outside of us unless we are sick or someone in our family is sick and even then, its within our personal bubble. 
 
These escalating numbers are not abstract. They are people who are sick with a virus that is highly contagious and everywhere around us. That is the reality whether we can handle it or not. We have to act appropriately in the face of it but also make sure the people in our lives are holding up okay. Check in with your friends and family often. Not about the virus per se, just to approximate closeness and connection, send some love and concern. We can do that now. We have the technology. 
 
Figure out how you can help. Most of the time just managing our lives is all we can do which is fine. Just trying to get my head in the right space of herd mentality and altruism by telling you. 
 
Today on the show I talk to Dan Aykroyd. I try to keep him in the room and not in outer space. On Thursday I talk to a Go-Go. Kathy Valentine talks about her journey in one the most famous and profitable female rock bands ever. Good talks. 

Enjoy!

Love,

Maron

Stay Inside.

Lockdown, People!
 
Self-sequestered, quarantined, holed up indefinitely. 
 
I hope the supply chains hold up. I mean, I got a lot of food. I feel like I was a little late to the party getting the necessities and by the time I got on it there was just no toilet paper left anywhere. So, I focused on food. Froze a bunch of fish and chicken. I bought some hearty vegetables. We made stock. Got as much dry goods as I could but quinoa seemed sparse and rice was gone. I don’t eat a lot of carbs anyway. We have plenty of canned fish. I figure it’s probably good to be fortified with food and the poo residue issue will solve itself if it becomes a problem. Also, I have enough TP for at least two weeks. 
 
The struggle is between the lizard brain and the ego, as far as behaving in relation to the facts—selfishly, like a belligerent child, either ideological or just selfish, or doing what needs to be done to save the herd, the species, slow the spread, take the hit and not get to ‘hang out’ and do what you want to do for a while. I’m relishing this dark time of chaos and horrific anticipation. I have spent most of my life in a state of dread and existential crisis. Much of it has settled down over the last few years but I have well-traveled neural pathways carved out by the tip of the anxiety spear over just about every scenario. I’m grounded. Nervous, but grounded. Trying to do the right thing. 
 
The impulse to shop is deep. Just the urge to run out a grab something at the store. The stores are all so close to where I live now. None of them have anything. There was a line around the supermarket yesterday. I just need some black peppercorns and mustard powder to pickle my beets. Not anymore. Those days are over for now. Eat the beets as they are. 
 
As for work, well, GLOW is down, The Comedy Store is closed, but my garage studio is open for business and we will be up in your business with our business when you need us. The show, the WTF podcast, must and will go on. I will ride this out with you in close to real time with a new show every Monday and Thursday as usual. If and when guests don’t want to leave their homes, I will talk to you, one on one, for however long feels right. We aren’t there yet. 
 
In the meantime, stay safe, stay away from crowds. If you are sick, stay inside. Stay fed. Stay in touch. 
 
Today I talk to Thandie Newton about her life, Westworld, trauma, love and other stuff. On Thursday I talk to Utkarsh Ambukdar about all kinds of shit and he raps to my riffing at the end.

Truly great talks this week. 

Enjoy!

Love,

Maron

Dark Relief.

Coming out of it, People!
 
I am feeling much better. It actually didn’t stay too bad for too long. I feel almost back to normal. I did the big hike a couple of days in a row. Sweat it out. My energy seems better. It was a cold. It came on hard though. 
 
As most of you know, my standup special 'End Times Fun' drops tomorrow on Netflix AROUND THE WORLD. Crazy times we live in. People around the world can watch my special. That’s cool, right? But Netflix will never tell me how many people have watched the special, or anything I’ve been in on the platform, because that’s how they do business. Don’t tell the talent anything about the numbers or we may have to pay them more or something. 
 
Who knows? Maybe they’re protecting me from profound disappointment. Either way I’m excited that it will be out there. 
 
I watched most of the special again recently and I can honestly see everything that has gotten me here on that special. It’s like an homage to earlier me in parts and there are many definite tips of the hat to the people that influenced me since I was a kid. I can see it in specific jokes though I wasn’t thinking about it while I created the bits.
 
I’m a little nervous. I would say that I am at the top of my game in this special in terms of the material, structure and how I presented the stuff. I really hope it doesn’t just disappear into the churning cloud. I’d like it to be reviewed by some smart people so I can see things I can’t see, being the one who did it. I want it to rattle some folks and create a little fury here and there. In all honesty if this special doesn’t get some kind of aggravated attention I will really have a more honest sense of my relevance as a comic. I am prepared for that. 
 
I am aware that people may get offended. I’m not sure who but there are a lot of possibilities for that. I’m also aware that I don’t present to offend which would make it even more exciting if people find it offensive. It’s hard to explain. I just hope it gets some kind of reaction. 
 
I hope you all watch and get something out of it—dark relief.
 
Today I talk to Don Cheadle. I really enjoyed talking to him. On Thursday I talk to veteran Boston comic Don Gavin. He was around when I started. I used to open for him down the Cape at Johnny Yee's. Those kinds of stories. Great talks. 

Enjoy!

Love,

Maron

Sick.

I am fucking sick, Folks
 
Hate it. I don’t think it’s the thing but I’ll keep you in the loop. I guess it would be kind of exciting to be in the first wave to get the thing and get through it. I think it’s just a nasty head cold. 
 
My eyes feel like they are going to pop out and my head feels like it’s about to pop off and I I’m tired and feverish. Damn. A lot of liquids going in. A lot. Yesterday I think I drank about three gallons of water with electrolyte powder in it. That night I soaked the sheets. Like, soaking. I felt like my body was processing the sickness, working well. 
 
So, I’m sick and my cat Monkey is on the mend a bit. I thought he had a lung infection but the antibiotics were making him sick and didn’t seem to be helping. I brought him in and got him a steroid shot for potential asthma and filled him up with subcutaneous fluids and he seems good. Meanwhile….
 
I got my MRI results back and my back is a bit fucked up it turns out. I have some protrusions in between some vertebrae. Dumb. I did it to myself. Stupid vanity injury. I don’t need to be doing heavy, heavy squats. I’m not competing. I have nothing to prove (maybe a little). I remember when it happened. I was about to squat some big weight and I set the bar on my vertebrae. DUMB. It was a form issue and I heard the pop of whatever happened. The protrusions. 
 
I could be just hiking and doing yoga and some light workout. I’m 56 for fuck sake. Now I’m permanently hurt because I’m an idiot. So common. 
 
Today I talk to my old roommate and big shot film director, Pete Berg. He directed the new film Spencer Confidential which I was in. On Thursday I talk to Thora Birch. She wanted to come on, I said sure and we did the thing. Good talks!

Enjoy!

Love,

Maron