Sammy the Kitten.

I’m officially half vaxxed, People!

I made an appointment way out of LA in a reddish county. They were available. I guess I took the place of an anti-vaxxer and got vaxxed. It was at a supermarket pharmacy. I went ready to do the high cholesterol with gunk in my pump dance or the I work in the food industry as an entertainer schtick. They were very nice, efficient and asked zero questions at the pharmacy. I am relieved to be halfway there. After a year of fear and terror and trauma it's nice to take the plague variable off the table, hopefully. At least dying of it is way less of a possibility.

I have a new roommate. Sammy the kitten is in the house. Also to be known as Sammy Red, Samster, Sam Man and I’m sure many other variations. I am now parenting a six-week-old ginger cat. He has a white chest and legs and half a face and a perpetually panicked look on his face. His eyes aren’t quite locked in color wise. He was with his mother and siblings for four weeks and my friend Kit had him for a couple. He’s eating kibble and wet food. I’m adding pumpkin and probiotic and his shit looks almost perfect. He's full of the beans and has his own tent. Good guy. I think he’ll make it. I hope so.

Buster is not that tweaked yet. I’m keeping Sammy in a room and Buster has seen him a few times. He hisses and growls a bit. I think he realizes, or my projection of him realizes, that it’s just a kitten and not a threat, yet. Hopefully Buster wont beat him up or kill him. Buster is kind of a bully. He was a full-on elder abuser with old Monkey. The best thing that could happen is that Buster mentors silly Sammy. We’ll see.

I’ve somehow managed to run some errands and get some stuff done that I haven’t been able to bring myself to do for the entire lockdown. I don’t know. I just feel like something has been lifted, a weight. I don’t know what exactly…oh wait. I’m half vaxxed, got shot numero uno. That might have something to do with it. The weather is nice and all that meditation and yoga might be… nope. It was the shot. The shot and the kitten.

I talk to Christopher Lloyd today about his 60-year career in theater, film and television but mostly about One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. What can I say? Sometimes you just get into a groove. On Thursday I have a nice, deep personal talk with Eddie Huang. Excited to engage with him about Asian culture, which I don’t know much about. We talk about his new film ‘Boogie’ as well.

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

Slow and Low.

It may be kinda of okay eventually, People

Okay-ish. Maybe.

I’m surprised and concerned that my brain wants to believe it may be okay. In the now, it doesn’t seem any different. In the then it was awful. In the maybe it seems like it might be okay. Ish. I don’t know. My brain wants to hang onto something and I think it’s just relieved it isn’t terror. In my present I am not experiencing terror. Wait…

I see people getting vaccinated. I hear about millions. I see the shift in policy regarding opening things up. I see these fits and starts. I hear about millions who won't get vaccinated. I don’t know why. We had polio, mumps, measles, smallpox and now we don’t. What about the Stupid Virus? It seems the most resistant to treatment. So many humans let their brains be infected with the Stupid Virus in the name of ‘freedom.’ Is freedom stupidity? Maybe I don’t understand the concept of freedom because I’m not dumb enough.

The meditation I have been doing daily for months now seems to be having an impact on my sleep. I sleep deeper. I dream harder. I still get up to pee, a lot. I guess that's outside of the purview of meditation. The concept of being present is starting to make sense. The tool of getting there is starting to work more frequently. The power of that tool to stop terror and panic and sad nostalgia and future tripping is real. What to do with this deeper understanding that it’s all within not without? You are the regulator of you. Own it or be owned.

I smoked my first brisket. I did some research. Acknowledged my limitations re: equipment and experience. I focused and figured it out. Bought a four-pounder, rubbed it down with equal parts salt and pepper, not too thick, set the Traeger at 225 "super smoke," put a small tray of water in there, after letting the meat brine a bit in the fridge took it out for an hour, put it in the smoker, fat side down, next to the tray, put the thermometer in it, let smoke for like 6-7 hours, when the temperature hit 170 I sprayed it with a little apple cider vinegar, wrapped in foil, turned the heat to 250, stuck the thermometer back in, when it hit 200, took it out, let it sit an hour, sliced it. Solid smoke ring!

Boom. BBQ. Moist. Tender. Tasty.

Today I talk to Lorraine Newman about the first season of SNL and a life in the voiceover racket. On Thursday I get schooled on Armenia by Serj Tankian from System of a Down. Good talks!

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

Awards.

What is winning, People?

By the time this is read I will know whether or not I won a Critics' Choice Award. I will have already appeared on TV in a head box event. Some of you may have watched me win or lose.

This is the day before and I am always forced to consider what awards mean to me when I am up for one or not. I know I rarely, if ever, win them. I think the last major award I won for standup comedy was second place in the WBCN Comedy Riot in 1988. It was because of that award that I began my career as a professional standup. I had been doing it a few years before that but August ’88 marks the beginning of my career as a paid comic. No more day job. So, in August of this year I will have been a professional standup for 33 years.

I have lost and not been nominated for awards all of my professional career. I know how to lose. I always get excited at the idea of winning and prepare to win in my mind but I lose and absorb it. Rationalize it. Realize it’s not important and in many cases not based on anything that has anything to do with the work, really. See, rationalization (but totally true).

Some awards I think I should have won or, at the very least, been nominated for. Some I was nominated for but knew I wasn’t the guy nor should I have been. In my entire career the only one I thought I deserved for sure was a Peabody. Who even knows what they are or what they are for? Who cares? Seriously, who cares? Fuck the Peabodys. Who the fuck are they to judge? I’m over it. Doesn’t matter. Fuck them.

All this is to say that no matter what happened yesterday, I know, in my heart, if there is any award I deserve, it’s this year’s Critics' Choice Award for Best Comedy Special of 2020. I mean, I don’t usually sing my own praises, but this is the one. I can see every minute of all 35 plus years of work in this set. I’m very proud of it and it was a collaboration with the late Lynn Shelton. I know what it is. I know it is great. I know I may not do better.

I also know that I don’t win awards.

I am grateful for my life despite all the losing and sadness. I have found my voice creatively and as a human. I have an audience. I do the work. I am paid for the work and respected for the work I do. I am okay with myself in the world (most days). That is winning.

So, no matter what happened yesterday. I’m good. I won. I earned my life.

Today I talk to Eddie Murphy. I enjoyed talking to him. He showed up for it. We had some laughs. On Thursday I talk to Hugh Grant. I enjoyed talking to him too. I didn’t think I would. I laughed a lot. He’s a dark, funny fucker. Great talks.

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

Beliefs.

Control, People.
Do we have any power over anything? Not much. As I type these letters I feel like I am in charge of these words. Powerful.

People feeling powerless and scared can lead to chaos and insanity and religion sometimes. Almost all of us are desperate on some level. Almost all of us are scared, bordering on terrified, most of the time. Almost all of us want to hang our fear and desperation on something that makes sense and makes us feel like we have a handle on shit. This means most of us are suckers and marks, part time fiends, compulsives and control freaks, martyrs. How’s that new regimen working out?

Do you hit or take the hit?

I know that I am a mark. I am aware of the type of mark I am. I am vigilant to apply reason and skepticism to anything coming at me in a pitch. I lapse into vitamins and diets but I draw the line at religion and Qanon. Same portal that becomes a brutalized orifice by the big frequency hustlers. Brain fuckers.

I’ll give Glucosamine Chondroitin a go but I don’t think the Jews are a problem that needs to be solved. I’ll eat some probiotics for my gut garden but I know Trump is not going to be inaugurated next week. Then I’ll pull back from the vitamins all together and just be mad at most things as we all move decidedly and unavoidably toward our death one way or the other.

So, without the possibility of the religion hook, I get locked in to unnecessary tasks that my brain can’t get rid of until I follow through. The way I ground myself is to find a reason to be angry at myself for doing something or not doing something. The first is an eternal spring. The second is a compulsion du jour. When I’m busy my brain doesn’t really do this but filling time during the plague brings out all the old cycles. Sometimes it’s a good thing. I get things done. It’s the urgency that is annoying.

All of these start as just a thought. I am learning through meditation that you can just let thoughts pass. They aren’t real. Just thoughts. But sometimes I lock on.

I went to Whole Foods with a list. I got what I needed. I left the store and realized I didn’t get a kabocha squash. I didn’t need it. I wanted it. Eating and preparing food is a big stabilizer for me. I couldn’t believe I forgot the squash. I was furious at me. It takes a lot to go to the store in the plague. To soldier through the possible Covid clouds. I didn’t even need the squash. I couldn’t get it out of my head. I applied my meditation tools. Just let the thought pass. It’s just a thought. It’s the kabocha squash thought. Let it pass.

It didn’t. It circled, every half hour or so, across my mind, a Japanese pumpkin. Kabocha.

I’ve really been fighting the urge to suit up with my N95 and silly plastic face shield and angrily storm into Whole Foods for that spite squash I don’t really need. I haven’t. Writing about it helps.

This is my spiritual journey. Ignoring the circling flying squash in my mind and being present and okay with who I am and the world around me in this moment. Fucking kabocha.

Problems remain. We all do what we can to stay sane. A lot of that is involuntary and hopefully not too dangerous to ourselves or others.

Today I talk to Tim Allen. Don’t freak out. He’s really a comic at his core. On Thursday I talk to Jake Gyllenhaal. Good talks!

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

Fire.

I burn myself, Folks

I don’t know when I will know in my heart that I no longer have restaurant hands. When you work on a line at a restaurant you don’t think twice about handling the hot stuff. It’s second nature. You’re numb to it. If it isn’t glowing hot you don’t get burning. I guess it’s not unlike the discipline and focus of mind it requires to walk on hot coals. You’re just doing it.

Now, I burn myself. My focus of mind is there but my soul knows I don’t work at a restaurant. Though you couldn’t tell by the amount I cook. I cook for the week then challenge myself to eat everything I’ve cooked or purchased. If I don’t, I’m very disappointed in myself, like I’ve failed at my job.

It’s part of my rituals that keep me sane. I now do about 10-15 minutes of Yoga in the morning. Then another 15 minutes of meditations. Then I do about an hour on Instagram live to engage with people. I do my talks for my podcast. I cook.

Nothing gets you more in the present than burning your hand. Maybe I should start my meditations with that.

I’m not even sure I want to continue meditating. It’s making my brain soft. I like it on fire.

Also, I think I’m done with cabbage. It happens. You hit a wall with things.

I finished the new Adam Curtis documentary series I Can’t Get You Out of My Mind. I had to watch the two-hour finale twice. That’s a lot to wrap one’s head around. My mind has been expanded and rerouted a bit. I do have some issues with the clutter of the end. Adam seems to kind of contradict himself around the ideas of psychic manipulations, the self being defined by the stories we tell ourselves, the possibility of the human having more than one self, data mining and algorithms being used to sideline and perhaps destroy consciousness. You get it, right?

Today I talk to Melissa Leo. She is one of the most powerful actors working. I’ve always loved her work. The film she is currently in is called Body Brokers. It's about the dark racket of some drug rehab facilities and the many evil insurance hustles. Corrupt caregivers running money through hopeless addicts. Powerful and real. On Thursday I talk to Michael K. Williams who is also in the film and was also Omar on The Wire. Great talks. Great week.

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

Bubbling Up.

Stop the food, People!

I am strung out on carbs and sugar. Honey. The good sugar. Quinoa and Wasa crackers and pita bread. The healthy carbs (in my mind). The butters, peanut and almond. I’m out from under the ice cream. I am in the food pit, though.

I just can’t stop cooking. It keeps me sane. It’s just a lot of food. I start to hate what I cook because it’s really too healthy and all that I am left with is the angry desire to cook a cake or a pie or a bread and eat it angrily. I haven’t yet. This week. I smoked fish. Sable.

I over-brined my sable. Who hasn’t? Salty.

I’ve been thinking about it all. Doing the research. Watching the great films. Watching the challenging stuff. The Pinter scripts. I’ve been wondering what I am going to do creatively. I mean, I do Instagram lives in the mornings. That’s become a habit. I riff around and play records and chase my cat around. Is that really what I am doing? Shouldn’t I be creating a stage show? Shouldn’t I be putting a script together? Shouldn’t I be coming up with a pitch for a show? Shouldn’t I be learning how to do more with Garage Band than just talk into it? Who cares? I like to chase my cat around. We talk.


It is happening in the way it happens. Something is bubbling up out of my spinal fluid into the brain stem. I just need to coax it out. It’s being teased by triggers.

I guess enough time has passed for the great muse of coincidence to offer up some brain meat. It’s been a couple years since I watched two docs by Adam Curtis that sent me spinning. ‘HyperNormalisation’ and ‘The Century of Self.’ They seem to give shape to some threads of thought I was being spooled with. It took the full two years for me to integrate them and see what they yielded. The assessment of shallowness and the tragedy of passive engagement. The plague. An army of stupids searching for a status quo.

Now, he’s back with a six parter called ‘Can’t Get You Out of My Head.’ Perfect timing. Isolation, lock down, immobility, not talking to enough people. My brain is vulnerable and throbbing for new stuff and this delivers. I dumped two episodes into my mind the other night and it’s all there… conspiracy, power paradigms, constructions of self, global histories of the great colonialized mindfuck, what is real and what isn’t, AI being born, the draw of the darkness our minds manufacture because of fear and forces out of our control. I’m ready. I’m excited. I’m barely living.

He is a true artist in how he puts film together. I’m very happy to have my mind blown by his work.

It helps me connect the real dots. Right on time.

Today I have what I would call a very unique and special talk with the great Jodie Foster. I feel like we grew up together. Or I grew up at the same time as her and I watched her grow up through a bunch of different characters. Something like that. On Thursday I had another very special talk with Sam Neill. We had some laughs. I couldn’t stop trying to make him laugh. I don’t know why. It was fun.

Hope you found the love yesterday, enough to be simultaneously nostalgic and excited about possibilities. Markers. Buoys.

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

Apocalyptic Hounds.

I didn’t watch, Folks.

I never do. I rarely have any idea who is playing. It’s not on purpose. It’s profound how much one cannot know when one has zero interest in something. It’s not even on my radar and it’s on all the radar. How is that even possible?

There’s the macrobubble and the microbubble. We all dictate exactly what enters our microbubble. That is our perception. We align with the boundary between us and the macrobubble. It’s a psychic screen. Beyond that is the galaxy, the breathless expanse of information. I guess my point is no matter how hard it is thrown, a football won’t break through into my microbubble. Or any kind of ball really.

Coyotes get through. It had been a while since I really thought about coyotes. The other night I woke up to the sound of a pack of them cackling and laughing and making that weird vibration that a bunch of coyotes make. I don’t live in the hills. I haven’t seen many around lately or much at all around my house. This bunch felt like they were in my room. I was lying in bed freaked out. Buster slept right through. That is a safe-feeling cat.

I always assume when I hear that sound they are celebrating after having just ripped apart someone’s beloved pet. Those sounds were a shameless blood-covered revelry that is followed an hour later by someone like me wandering around the streets calling out a cat’s name. They’re like fucking pirates, apocalyptic hounds, devils. They creep me out. They are symbols of a bad omen in some myths or just chaos agents in others. Bad omen for cats everywhere.

I don’t think a coyote will hurt me because they’re kind of wimpy. They’re not wolves or bears. I think that wimpiness makes them seem eviler and is also a window into why they represent the trickster in Native American mythology. They’re just little cat-murdering shit starters who have to survive but seem to enjoy starting shit and then scurrying off like the cowards they are. Kind of like comics.

I have to get off this carb run I’m on. I quit tomorrow. The carb jones is real.

Today I talk to the amazing Salma Hayek about her new movie and other Hayek stuff. On Thursday I talk to Mark Harris about his new Mike Nichols book and about movies in general. Great talks!

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

No More Ice Cream.

Peanut butter, People

I’m in trouble. The food. It doesn’t stop. More ice cream has been sent. Right when I extricate myself and get away, it pulls me back in. And peanut butter. Peanut butter can go fuck itself.

‘It’s healthy, Marc.’ Is it though? Is it really? When you slather it thickly on a Wasa Rye Cracker with a globby dense sheen of honey? Is it still healthy then? When you eat four of them?

Food isn’t like drugs or booze or gambling or even sex really. YOU HAVE TO EAT! So, as far as compulsions go it requires control. I’m either hyper controlled with food or teetering on being out of control. Shame usually pulls me back from the edge just shy of a second chin.

It doesn’t matter. Who do I have to look good for? No one, really. Myself, I guess. That is a never-ending struggle. Isn’t self-hatred awesome? You just can never quite kick it. The patterns continue, circle around. It may take longer, but it all comes around, again and again. Ice cream is the fast track to food Shametown. The peanut butter crackers are just an appetizer, the ramping up.

Brown Butter Almond Brittle, Blackout Chocolate Cake, Buttercream Birthday Cake, Madagascar Vanilla and Rugelach. These are the ones that I engaged with. The flavors from Jeni’s and some from Clementine’s in St. Louis. My friend Patton put me on a monthly subscription for Jeni’s. The woman who does publicity for Clementine’s wanted me to try ONE new flavor then had four pints sent to me of the wrong flavors and is now going to correct it this week with a new box. When Jeni’s heard me talking about them they DMed me on IG asking if I wanted to try their new Everything Bagel flavor. I said I was nervous about it and it prompted me to tweet:

‘Time for an indefinite moratorium on new ice cream flavors. I think we’re good.’

Which got mixed responses.

WHAT THE FUCK AM I GOING TO DO WITH ALL THIS ICE CREAM?!? I can’t just throw it away. It takes a lot for me to do that.

I know. First world problem. There is real tragedy going on all around, every day. People are in trouble. I should be grateful and think about the less fortunate. Which makes me sad and existentially challenged. Makes me want… need… to eat ice cream.

I’ll try to enjoy it. All of it. With my heart disease and horrendous food shame I will soldier on. Mile to go before I sleep. Over a dozen pints to go before I sleep. There are worse things.

I will work to destroy myself with exercise to counteract the destruction I am leveling against me with inner ice-related hate.

Today I have quite a good talk with David Duchovny and on Thursday I have a slightly loopy chat with Stanley Tucci.

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

These Bugs.

People!

It is the time of plague and PTSD and I guess just straight up TSD to be honest. We are living in it. The futureless now. What will fill this vacuum, both good and bad?

I guess all nows are futureless but generally you can speculate, almost unconsciously. I can’t seem to hang on to any future speculations in the now we are in and it’s a real anxiety engine. The futures just tumble in slow motion into wreckage. They end with me alone, in haze.

I don’t mean to sound hopeless. I’ve adapted. I’ve accepted. I have no idea what the plan is in the micro, for me. Usually it revolves around should I stay or should I go. What will I have to share if and when we can be witnessed in public again. Constructing slowly.

It seems in the macro planning we all get the vaccine eventually and it will probably work for the time being. These bugs are crafty and ambitious.

I’ve been doing the work. The talking, the thinking, the writing things down (this), the cooking, the walking, the working out, the sitting (quietly), the stretching, the watching, the eating of things good and bad and the reading.

I cooked up some kasha varnishkes from scratch the other night. I made it the old school way, with schmaltz. I rendered it myself from my last batch of bone broth. I browned the onions in the fat. I coated the groats with egg and browned them in the same pan with the hint of onion fat in it still. I added the broth and the onions back into the groats and simmered them until they were soft. Made the bowtie pasta and mixed it all together, salt and peppered it, then used it as a time machine. I went back to being at someone’s house, maybe my grandmother’s, just being a little Jewish kid, the smells, the tasting. I went further back, Poland. If you make the old Jew food correctly you can get all the way back to the hats and beards of Ukraine and Russia. Ashkenazi seeds. Tradespeople, pogroms. Dying for being.

Then I can drop back into the present-day anti-Semitism. Looking into the bowl of groats and noodles is like a crystal ball. Qanon is built on the foundation of the oldest anti-Semitic conspiracies there are. It’s like a conspiracy clearing house but let’s not forget it’s ALL about the Jews. Jew-hate goes back to the beginning of Jews and the beginning of hate. Qanon may seem modern and kooky and crazy but it is fully realized anti-Jewish propaganda that will most likely keep morphing. It is about the othering of the Jews. The suspected world owners. The puppet masters. People are truly stupid. The Jews are not the puppeteers in this case but they people spouting the Q verses are definitely the puppets.

I do two or three sun salutations in the morning and I meditate for ten to fifteen minutes. Breathing in the now. Should I stay or should I go, now?

Today I talk to comedian George Wallace about his journey from being a rag salesman to being Seinfeld’s roommate to being a Vegas stalwart to being a Twitter celebrity. On Thursday, if all goes right, I talk to William Zabka about being the bully we all knew to being the broken man in Cobra Kai.

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

End Run Fantasy.

Pressure, People.

Jesus, the buildup to the events of this week have been overwhelming. Both the good and the bad. The FACT that the King Chaos Pig Trump leaves office in actual full on ignominy is so beautiful I can barely take it. The FACT that he is going to slip away unceremoniously the morning of the inauguration like a manbaby is spectacular. The FACT the he is consumed with so much SHAME that he is slinking away means he KNOWS he fucking LOST and lost BIG.

I don’t know what his power will be in the future without the traction of being the most powerful person in the world second only to Jack Dorsey. Having known a few narcissists, the power will be relative to how he integrates what has happened to him into his well-honed victim schtick and how many people he can keep on the hook as emotional appendages to his woes. People love to be suckered by an ongoing victim schtick. I mean, look how much blood has been shed and how much money has been bilked on the back of Jesus. Classic victim schtick hustle.

I hope the armed anonymous content that the internet manifested in the forms of actual, living armed fascist factions in Hawaiian shirts don’t kill any more cops or civilians in their end times, end run fantasy. I guess we’ll see. I really hope the ceremony goes smoothly and the forces there to protect and serve stay on the correct side of the right-and-wrong line as we bring in the new management team.

Start governing in the name of the people and bring some order to this shitshow so we can get our fucking vaccinations.

On a lighter note, I talked to my father, who is beginning his mentally adrift journey into nothingness and he was relieved. I told him what I thought was happening in the world and what I thought about it. He has a few Republicans in his ear because of family and the wrong TV stations. So, he is confused that his feelings about people, which are usually correct, contradict what he is seeing on television.

He asked me if I thought Deep State was real. I said, if it was, they are doing a horrible job. He then rambled on about ‘Hollywood’ and an ‘actor’ he couldn’t name that had to move to Greece because of the Pedophile ring. I said I didn’t know what he was talking about and it’s probably bullshit. He asked if I was part of it. I responded, ‘What?’ He said, ‘Deep State.’ I said, ‘No.’ He was relieved. I told him I applied but I never heard back and maybe my membership card is on the way. He didn’t laugh in the right way.

Today I talk to musical wizard Daniel Lanois about producing masterpieces with Dylan and U2 and others. I talk to him about working with Brian Eno. We talk music stuff. On Thursday I talk to UK comic Andy Zaltzman about the world and related things. Great talks!

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

Meditating.

Fuck, I’m always anxious, People.
Every morning I wake up on the edge of a cliff wondering whether or not I can find the bridge to my day. Oh, and the ground is shaking. And it’s raining and windy. No one is wearing masks. I’m fucking wearing boxers.

In truth, the weather has been amazing in California. The quiet has been disconcerting and the plague has been devastating. Calm before a continuous storm. That doesn’t make sense. A break within a hurricane of virus and anger.

Days after King Chaos Pig unleashed his animals to vape, smoke, shit, piss, break, steal, climb, deface and destroy the capital it seems that there is some attempt on behalf of law enforcement to track down some of the perpetrators and charge them. Justice? Maybe.

Why were they all so confident in their actions that they were shameless about revealing themselves, proudly? Delusional or a plan? Selfies, showmanship, smugness. Are they stupid or was this part of the theatrics? Was this all just a show to prove it was possible? Was it enabled on the ground? Who the fuck left the back door open? Is that particular door always open, institutionally?

For a bunch of paranoiacs that believe 5G harkens the end of all things and it is only a matter of time before we all are implanted with chips in our head, or most likely our arms through vaccinations, they sure are easy to track. Everyone is already chipped, tagged. We embrace it. We post pics, all of our feelings, share links, use our GPS, look at our phones looking at us and we find it comforting. So, that whole part of the big plan seems shallow if not bogus. They just want power over all of it but are still beholden to the machines that make life now.

Big tech shut it all down. Is it censorship or the free market protecting itself? If we all hadn’t interfaced so completely with all the algorithms that seem unavoidable we would be able to say we have freedom of choice in relation to who we are, but we barely do. We have all been designed, mined and predicted by our choices that we share. The singularity is here, we are the products. We are content. Our beings have become binary. Souls, hostages.

Trending: What should I be doing?

Lists: This or that?

Content: Distraction profiteering.

Personality: Template.

Character: Résumé.

Self: Brand.

That said, I’m happy big tech sees fascism as dangerous and murderous mobs as a threat to society. Better late than never. Everything and everyone involved is scrambling to distance themselves from the fire they helped fan. They are all smoking and smoldering as they run and hide from the destructive primal instincts they triggered.

I did some yoga the other day. It felt good. It didn’t solve much. I’m still meditating which I will say is helping me be me in my body and mind.

I’m just a comic, rambling.

Today I talk to Nicole Kidman. Do I need to say more about that? It was exciting. Thursday, I talk to Kate Winslet which hasn’t happened as of me writing this. I’m nervous. We’ll see.

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

The Tea Leaves.

Jesus, let’s get on with it, People.

Anxious as fuck. The unknown has taken on new dimensions of unknownness and I’m fucking aggravated and anxious.

Shit, sorry. Happy New Year.

How was the transition for you? Dramatic? I rewatched ‘Ordinary People’ alone and cried a bit and was in bed reading and didn’t know the clock had turned until I heard fireworks outside. Even then, I didn’t register it much. I generally don’t.

I just know I’m anxious. I’m trying to read the tea leaves which is what I call my Citizens app. Last week there were two separate assaults by multiple people on one person. One of them involved bats. It’s a sad indicator of where we are at, economically and culturally, where all I can hope for is that in both cases they all knew each other and it was a business misunderstanding of some kind. As opposed to the fabric of society fraying to the point where the angry and desperate are randomly attacking people in groups.

I really don’t think there is a normal to return to and I think things are actually much worse than I even imagine out there for most people.

It’s hard to make decisions with so much up in the air. I can’t even begin to speculate about the future. Most of us don’t even know when or where we are going to get vaccinated. Who the fuck knows what’s going to happen this week as King Chaos Pig whips up an antidemocratic shit show for Gun Dorks, Hate Nerds and Bullshit Zealots as he closes out his presidency with the big grift finale? Or, civil war breaks out and it all crumbles into insanity and violence and he’s president for life. Hey, maybe both!

Or maybe reset. Reset with new management. Please. Democracy, work.

Let’s land this thing. Regroup. Find our bearings. Get things functioning for the most people possible again.

My brain is on fire. I’m doing the reading. I’m doing the thinking. I’m doing the writing. For what and for who I don’t know. I don’t know what I will be when and if we get through this. Or what it is I’m doing. I do know I don’t want to go back to the way it was. I know I don’t want this countrywide PTSD to erase what we are going through now in a haze of cortisol. I don’t want it to be a weird, dark dream. I do want us all to wake the fuck up though.

Today I talk to the Jewish Mandy Patankin. We do the Jew talk about all the big things aside from his actual career. On Thursday I talk to Thundercat about all the big things and a bit of bass. Great talks!

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

The Mountain and the Desert.

People!

Did you make it through round one of this holiday season? Are you okay? Ish? Did you get what you wanted, what you needed, what you asked for? Is there anything that will make it okay ever again? If you didn’t get a time machine, probably not.

I hope the holiday was ok. I know a lot of us were spending it alone but it seems that many of us have adapted to using the tech at our fingertips to stay connected to other humans as best we can or, at the very least, engaged in distractions that enable us not to lose our fucking minds.

I think one thing we all have learned during the Trump years and into this pandemic is exactly who we are as a country and who our fellow Americans are. If there is a deep state of anything it’s a deep state of doofus-ness. What a bunch of morons live here. Truly inspired idiots all around. Some people I thought were smart are dumb and shallow. Some people I always knew were fucking dumb dumbs turned out to be quite profound in their stupidity. Self-importance abounds on both sides.

I’ve been to the mountain and I’ve been to the desert. It’s odd. I had a true moment of love for Los Angeles. As so many people leave for less populated destinations in a dramatic flurry of panic and bullshit I found myself at the top of a hill on Christmas Day with X’s ‘Los Angeles’ blaring in my buds. I was looking all the way out to the ocean after the winds and short rains of the days before had washed and blown all the garbage out of the air. I had a moment where LA was not just okay but great. I like my house. I like the city.

I have fantasies of going other places. New Mexico, Ireland, the desert.

I spent a day out in Joshua Tree with Dean Delray at a house he was renting. I’ve always loved the desert but for some reason I really got it that day. It was the day after Christmas. There is a space that comes with the desert that if you have the mind for it will easily spread your consciousness out. I’ve been meditating a bit recently and the work you put into pushing thoughts aside to just be in the loop of the breath happens almost effortlessly sitting on a porch in Joshua Tree. It slows it all down. The quiet is pristine. All you can hear is the wind and the cooing quails and Dean’s French bulldog Gertie snoring. Good day.

I don’t think I could live there, in the desert. A few days would be good.

Today I talk to Patty Jenkins about Wonder Woman, Monster and her father, among other things. On Thursday I talk to David Ritz about writing with and about Ray Charles, Marvin Gaye, Aretha Franklin and Jerry Wexler, and about music and life. Great talks!

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

As We Age.

Holidays approach, People.

I have no plans. Zero.

I guess I really never pay much attention to the holidays. Other than realizing everything generally slows down and there’s a quiet to the world between Christmas and New Year’s. That quiet has been going on since March and it’s menacing because it’s not a holiday quiet, it’s a plague panic quiet. I’m tired of it. The quiet. The blanket of plague and fear that has muffled life. It goes on.

I didn’t light one candle for Hanukkah. Why? It would’ve been too sad to do it alone. I’m not that hung up on it when I’m with someone either but then at least there is someone to share the Jewness with. Usually a non-Jew in my case. It came and went this year without me even acknowledging it. It’s not because I'm a bad Jew. I am. I just didn’t want to be a bad, sad Jew alone with candles.

I’m not looking for pity. I have been spending some time with someone. I’m just trying to keep it reasonable and respectful of mine and their feelings. Realizing where I am emotionally and in my grief.

Sorrow is a true motherfucker and letting it settle as the bedrock of who I am is real. I hadn’t really identified it as such until I talked to Nicole Kidman (posting in January) about it. I don’t think I differentiated sadness from sorrow but there is a difference. Sorrow seems more expansive, more permanent, something that is just there and grows as we age but integrates into our character. Sadness is a feeling that comes and goes.

I thought I had turned a corner with my grief and maybe I had but the sorrow remains and will always be there, with me, informing the rest of my life in good ways and sad ways. I wasn’t with Lynn that long but she was the love of my life and I can live in that and let the memories come over me and they can bring that unique joy rooted in sorrow.

It seems to be happening a lot since I’ve been on a movie set. That is where Lynn and I created together so the trigger is obvious. In this role I am playing not only am I using all that I learned from Lynn as a director and fan of mine but I am using my love for her and the loss of her to inform the man I'm playing in the film.

Now, hopefully, I won’t get COVID and the film will be good.

Today I talk to musical wizard Andrew Bird who scored Lynn’s film ‘Outside In’ among many other records and things. On Thursday I talk to comedian Sam Tallent about his book ‘Running the Light,' which is one of the darkest, rawest and most authentic depictions of a road comic I have ever read. Great talks!

Happy Christmas if I don't talk to you.

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

Connecting.

Action, People!

Working. Making movies. On location.

Being on set has been great. BEING AROUND PEOPLE AGAIN. So good. Scary? Yes, at first. I have surrendered to my decision though. Or else I wouldn’t be able to work.

The plague protocols are in place. I am getting tested three times a week. Everyone on set is always wearing a mask. The only maskless people are the actors when we are working. There’s a lot of squirting and wiping going on by a crew of squirters and wipers. Cleaning products. Hand sanitizer.

This is the first time I’ve been on a film set since Lynn’s death. I have a conscious feeling of her being with me. I am not the most confident actor in the world. I came to it late and I’m never really sure I am doing it right or well. Lynn always supported my acting and always thought I was great. I know she was in love with me but I believed her. I mean, we made movies and TV together. So, when I’m working I remember what she said to me and how she talked to me and how she looked at me while I was acting. I also remember what I learned from her in terms of the authenticity of moments. She is very much with me on set. I just wish she actually was. I will say this though, many memories are becoming blessings. I guess that’s a saying for a reason.

I am working with a totally incredible actress. It is daunting. I’d almost just rather watch her act than act with her. I used to get that with Brie and Gilpin too. Andrea Riseborough is the REALEST OF DEALS. I didn’t really know her work before but she has to give such a layered performance through the arc of this character and it’s amazing to see her put it into place each scene.

There really hasn’t been much time for us to even talk as people. When you are working on a small budget movie there really isn’t even time to rehearse. We just meet on set ready to go. AND we’re shooting on film, so even less time. I swear the first time we really talked was on Friday, after working together for five days. She felt rushed and wanted to take some time to run lines. I was excited. We had never done that and we had done a lot of scenes already. She needed time and a bit of space from everyone to focus on our next scene and I was happy to do it with her. That is part of the work. She is the center of this movie and it’s a lot to carry and I am there to support her, not just as my character, but as a person. It’s nice to just connect as people doing the work. You find stuff that way.

It’s also just amazing to see her do the acting thing.

Today I talk to an amazing actor, Scott Glenn. I thought he would be intimidating. I mean, I know he can be, I’ve seen many of his movies. He was lit up. We talked before the election. On Thursday I talk to Bootsy Collins. He was also lit up but on a whole other frequency. Great talks!

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

Lines.

When is the fucking circus leaving town, People?

I’ve had enough of this big top of grift and all the malignant clowns, freaks, dumb dumb cultists, religious fanatics, conspiracy addled white supremacists and lawyers.

It just keeps dragging on and on and getting more pathetic every day. The possibility of the mentally ill pig king at the center of global power, who gives zero fucks about anyone, lashing out with all the world's weaponry at his disposal to make his crying boy inside feel right is not a great feeling. The possibility of the ‘if I’m out, we’re all out’ scenario is hanging over us. Who would’ve thought that instead of a chicken fight between super powers bringing the world down, it would be a jilted, narcissistic monster unable to accept reality, lashing out at his father in a nuclear pout that we all will pay for with our lives. God bless America.

Rudy’s got the Rona. Is that a Ramones song? Sorry, it seems that my empathy is drawing its own line. Hey, I’m not Jesus. Fuck that monster.

In other news, I start shooting a film today. I’m incredibly nervous. I was nervous about the Covid protocols but now I just seem normal nervous about the work. It’s been a while since I did the acting job professionally. I mean, we all do what we have to do to get through real life. Acting like someone else on purpose to tell a story on film is a whole other ball of wax.

The reason I feel okay about the safety issues is I took a ride to a location last week to get tested and do hair and make-up tests and a still photo for set dec. Just driving up to a set brought back all the excitement of being in this industry. Just seeing the security guy as I drove in and just beyond him, movie-making taking place. The set is a town. All kinds of people doing all kinds of jobs and I have one of them. I felt the thrill of it. I felt the comfort of knowing that part of me lives on these sets. I understand them. I’ve been on them before, a lot.

It’s just now, everyone has a mask and a designation and a way to behave safely. I felt okay with it. I felt like it might be okay (knocks on wood).

Now back to the fear of not knowing what I’m doing. I think I might, a bit. I’ll know more at the end of the day today.

Today I talk to Zach Braff about TV, movies, New Jersey, grief and other stuff. On Thursday I talk to Brad Williams about being a funny dwarf and other things. Great talks!

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

Kid Me.

Getting centered, People!

I didn’t mean to yell that. Maybe I did. Like, ‘hey, shut the door!’

It seems I’ve somewhat exhausted my expansive, sometimes porous boundaries. I put a lot of myself out there, on purpose. That’s all I’ve ever done. If I haven an art, that’s it. Though there isn’t a lot of artifice to it other than the ability to deliver it. That comes through years of practice. I guess that’s not nothing and it is a very satisfying way to do what I do.

I have felt a leveling-off lately that I think may be progress. Like I’ve landed somewhere within myself that isn’t bad. I’m not sure. This could all change tomorrow. It might be changing now. I will let the thoughts come and go.

The loneliness and fear and grief and isolation that has been happening over the last year has tossed me around quite a bit. Instinctively or reactively my brain and body has been driven to distraction, food, compulsive thinking, sex, PTSD, massive bouts of depression, anger, loneliness, ecstatic nostalgia, crying, emptiness, insane empathy, self-loathing, guilt, prayer, etc. All the feels and behaviors. It’s the nature of the shift in my inner and outer reality. It’s the nature of human sadness.

I relied on friends and strangers to buoy me and keep me engaged and loved and supported. I relied on movies, music, books, cooking, coffee, exercise and TV to keep me distracted and mostly healthy. It really comes in waves and when they hit they seem to wash all the work and strength away, but only for a bit. It is in place. I am in place. I just realized this.

I have never been more in place and that place is myself. Wild.

Now I have to reel it in a bit. Now I have to accept the me that is now and quiet the noise and the needs down. Now I have to sit quietly in myself.

I have been doing it. I have been doing the meditating. I don’t know if it’s working but I have all of sudden been wanting to keep some more of me to myself.

I’ve recently been hit with the story of me. I’ve been setting up an office in my house and I was going through this stack of old photo albums of my family starting before I was born and up through high school. Seeing kid me in the '70s feeling weird and uncomfortable and scared and seeing my glamorous, selfish parents not really knowing how to handle it. All of us moving through the years. I don’t think I reckon with all that I come from spread out like that very often. It hit me kind of hard, but good hard. I think I can let that kid live with a little comfort now. I’ve dragged him through a lot and he has been freaking out the whole time. For maybe 50 years. He needs to feel okay and I think I can let him. I feel strong enough to do it.

Thanks for all the help.

As a side note I’d like to say that turkey is really a pretty awful meat. It’s a tough, gamey bird that we all feel the pressure to make appetizing once or twice a year. There’s a reason it’s almost always cold cuts and never on restaurant menus. It’s because it’s kind of bad. I’m sorry. I just really noticed it.

Today I actually talk to James Caan. It was nuts but it was good. I wanted to engage with the tough Jew. I loved it. On Thursday I talk to John Densmore from The Doors about… The Doors (and other stuff). Good talks!

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

A Balanced Diet.

Stay home, People!

By the time Christmas comes around it will literally be snowing virus. That’s not a metaphor. It will actually be snowing Covid.

The thing I don’t understand is that most of us complain about having to go out of town to family gatherings. It’s a never-ending source of aggravation for most people. Going, being there, dealing, getting back. So, why is it so hard to NOT GO? Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. I know being a shut in is annoying and you’ve had enough of it but still. Stay close, small, manageable. Enjoy the break. You’ll probably be able to go to a family gathering that will make you miserable next year.

I’m happy to be staying home. That being said, I am doing a very streamlined Thanksgiving for a couple of us. A tiny turkey and couple of side dishes and maybe a pie. I want to bake a pie. I want to make sure that I maintain a balanced diet. A balance between joy and shame on my off days. Off days from the barely satisfying healthy diet I have most of the time.

I am slipping, though. We are all slipping. The Covid numbers speak to that. The same thing that makes me rationalize eating foods that are bad for me because of my mild heart disease are basically the reason we are all going to get Covid and we know we are doing it. The human brain likes to hedge its bets and bank on the odds of denial which is really not even a crap shoot. It’s just dumb. There is some mixture of entitlement, selfishness, belligerence and annoyance that makes us all a little stupid. When you are a child and this happens, usually there’s a grown up to step in and draw a line. No one is going to do that for you now. This government certainly isn’t. No one can guarantee your safety in almost any situation in terms of the virus. Everyone who is enabling unsafe behavior in the name of business or ‘freedom’ knows in their heart that they are fucking up and putting themselves and others at risk. If you press them or yourself along those lines you will eventually snap and let out an angry, ‘I KNOW! OK?’ No. It isn’t really. It’s worse now than it’s ever been. I wish we could not be babies.

It seems there is hope at the end of the tunnel or at least a better bit of tunnel. Let’s try to get there before we kill ourselves one way or the other.

Today I talk to Johnny Flynn, my co-star in the film ‘Stardust.’ It opens this Wednesday the 25th. He plays Bowie. He’s also a musician with several albums out. On Thursday we’re finally posting a talk with Mike Campbell from the Heartbreakers that we recorded before Covid. He asked if we would hold it until the release of his record. It’s here now. Good talks.

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron