Home stretch, Folks.
Asheville and Nashville. I’m beat.
I flew into Charlotte on Thursday night and picked up a Chrysler 300. It felt like a sleek tank. I’d never driven one before. I drove into the Blue Ridge night, two hours to Asheville. I had no sense of where I was or what the town looked like or how it was situated.
I checked into the hotel and started crunching my act on paper. Like a giant story problem.
Excise redundancy. Find the big laughs. Remember.
Didn’t sleep much. The three hour time difference is just enough to fuck you West to East.
Woke up in a dream state, looked out the window of my room and saw the beautiful silhouette of those mountains. Pretty country. I’ve seen a lot of beautiful parts of America on this string of dates. Last one was Bend to Portland and now a drive on the Blue Ridge Parkway.
I went to the artist’s district for a few minutes. I didn’t have the bandwidth to look at a lot of ok art. I had the realization that no matter what art you are involved with there is a difference between proficiency and a masterpiece. Plenty of great painters, photographers, potters, musicians, dancers, comedians, etc. Like, many. Some people can even make a living at it if they hustle and understand their limitations and price point. Truly inspired expressive genius that transcends practical expectations is rare. It’s not a hobbyists domain or a mediocre pro. It’s not something you can make happen by taking certain steps. It’s a fucking gift that manifests in those that have it when they’ve unlocked it with the work of craft. Either you got it, or you don’t. Them’s the breaks.
Hustle your wares.
I did hyper engaged shows at the Orange Peel. It’s a great rock club that has rock club expectations built into it. It’s the nature of the venue. I don’t do many rock clubs and when I do I need them to be seated. Even then it feels like it requires vigilance to stay on top of the crowd. There’s not a lot of space for space. I did two shows and I was wiped. I held the line on the time.
I bought a vintage Excelled burgundy leather car coat. I never do that. Had to. I think it’s a little big.
Didn’t sleep the second night in Asheville, either. Bad pillows. No matter how nice the hotel is, if they have shitty pillows they’ve failed. I know it’s a matter of personal preference but shitty is shitty.
Got up at six the next day. Drove the monster back to Charlotte and flew to Nashville.
Got to the hotel. There was no room yet so I sat outside, cigared and crunched the set some more. I became obsessed with finding a plastic shopping bag for my coat which was in a ripping paper supermarket bag. I decided to go down to Broadway because I saw people with big boot bags from a boot place. That was my afternoon. Went into the boot place. There were a hundred people trying on boots and spreading virus. I just couldn’t find the courage to try to charm the woman at the register out of a shopping bag. Too much chaos. Then I found a Walgreens. Love Walgreens. They had a big bag with a big W on it.
The show in Nashville was wild. I did the hour. Then I did another one with Q and A and a life lesson conversation with a sixteen year old sitting up front with his dad.
I waited until the last three shows before I tape the special to really cut my 90 mins of material down to about an hour. I think I do it this way all the time, actually.
We will see how it goes.
Today I talk to Clea DuVall about her acting roles, directing and coming out. On Thursday I talk to Elvis Mitchell about his doc on the history of Black cinema which, embarrassingly, I knew nearly nothing about. That’s why there are docs! It’s called Is That Black Enough for You? Great talks.
Enjoy!
Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!
Love,
Maron
Space for Space.
