Stuffed, People.
I really did it. I am sure I am not alone. After Thanksgiving dinner I swore off food. The next day I realized that was totally unreasonable and, not unlike the rest of you, I ate more of the same stuff again.
That’s the festive spirit. I don’t know how much gratitude I experienced but I was able to eat my feelings to a greater degree than usual and feel more food shame than usual which is what fuels my existence.
I am grateful though. For a lot of things. My life is unbelievable to me. I can’t seem to reconcile who I was with who I am. As every year goes by I become more and more estranged from whoever younger me was. I really don’t know how that guy got through it or ended up okay. The more I think about it I’m not sure I know him at all. From all accounts, not the best guy in the world. I guess I kind of know that and write it off as being young and angry and fucked up but I still think I was okay, not that horrible. Arguable depending on who you talk to.
I believe I’m worn out on a deep level. I’ve been working constantly as a standup. It’s all converging on my HBO special taping on Dec. 8 in NYC. This has been the goal for months. I still haven’t gotten the hour laid out exactly how I want it. I still have way too much material and I’m having a hard time cutting. I only have three more shows to make an hour and forty minutes into an hour. I guess that’s just the way I work. Right up to the edge.
I like to think I’m not nervous at all about the special. I mean, I have the goods. I’ve done many specials before. I also know that when I have to do a major thing I tend to make my life a bit chaotic in reality or in my mind. I’m sucking down cigars after being off nicotine for years so I’m all fucked up on that. I’m eating stupid. I’m freaking out about everything---else. Everything but the special. I like to transfer my panic onto unnecessary things to distract from just owning my reasonable fear of an upcoming event that requires a lot of me. That’s my method. Create a storm of self-criticism and self-flagellation heading into something that should be exciting and fun. I guess that’s getting back to basics for me. That’s where I’m comfortable or, if not comfortable, familiar. It’s what I grew up with. It’s my core. It’s not a great system. I don’t recommend it.
The primary creative issue I’m having around the set is balancing current cultural criticism with dark personal comedy. It’s like there are two distinct parts of the show. I have to weave them together and excise the redundancy. I have to sequence the bits so they flow and some reference each other. That’s this part of the job, building the hour. Tightening. Killing some babies.
I need to make sure I push back on and answer to some of the comedy out there that is culturally malignant along with just cultural malignancy on a social and political level in general. Whether I’m relevant enough to make any impact doesn’t matter. It’s just what I do. But I also have a personal story to tell. It feels like I’m mashing two hours into one. It’s fine.
We’ll see what happens.
Today I have a short chat with my pal Sam Lipsyte about his funny new book, Nobody Left to Come Looking for You. It’s a great read. Get it. I also have a long talk with Rob Delaney about his life and new book, A Heart That Works. It gets heavy. We talk about the death of his infant son. Which is also the focus of his book. On Thursday I talk to James Gray about movies and Jewish stuff and art. Great talks all!
Enjoy!
Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!
Love,
Maron
Building the Hour.
