mRNA Troops.

Getting through, Folks!

I’m better. I think. 

The test was very, very close to clean on Saturday. I’ll do one today. There was just a smidgen of a hint of a second line. My load is way down and almost out. 

It was a little scary, I have to be honest. With everything we know and don’t know about this thing I just couldn’t relax with it. I couldn’t hang loose with the Covid. I couldn’t enjoy my sick days. I couldn’t just cozy up with the bug in me. 

There was always a period of panic. Panic that I would be the one to defy all the numbers. The one guy with a booster, in good health, that gets it real bad. I’m sure there are actual cases of that. Of course my inverted narcissistic tendency made me believe I would win the unlucky lottery. I am convinced I’m not that guy now. 

I’m just one of those people that if I get sick with a passing bug I’m in for the whole ride, generally. I’ve never been one to have a cold for a couple of days. Is anyone really? If I get sick, I’m sick for the maximum. 

There’s an arc to most sickness. This Covid thing just kind of stayed steady and annoying. Like I told you before: I had no fever, no aches, no dizziness (though maybe a little later), no lack of oxygen. My fatigue was minimal. I did have some trouble getting a deep breath in. That was the scariest thing to me. 

My problem is, when I get tweaked or anxious or panicky, my chest gets tight. So that was feeding the tightness from the sickness, I believe. I spun out a couple of times. All my mental compartments collapsed and I stared the big empty in the face. It even opened its mouth once. Did some self pity texting and some crying wolf and reeled it in. Spiral. Thanks, friends I text. 

I did the quarantine. The bug didn’t really totally pass through me for 12 days after I tested. Thirteen days after I still felt a little shitty. I don’t feel great now. I think the war within on a cellular level is more profound than this strain lets on. Clearly, my body has been through something, even if I wasn’t  bed ridden or at death’s door. Thanks to the vaccine, I believe. 

Many people have said that this virus feels alien, different, inside them. I acknowledge that. I felt that. I think though, what is really different, is this new type of vaccine and how it works. I can’t separate the two. I will attribute the weirdness to the vaccine. I’ve had coronaviruses in me before but never engaged mRNA troops. I have no idea what this may have been like without them. Not good, I’m pretty sure. 

I had the honor to have a pretty wonderful conversation with Tony Kushner about all of his work and focusing a bit on his adaptation of West Side Story for the new Spielberg film. Today I will share that with you. Exciting stuff. On Thursday I talk to Sam Richardson about where he comes from comedically, Ghana, Veep, I Think You Should Leave and The Afterparty. Great talks. 

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,

Maron

Covid.

The Covid, People.

I got Covid, finally. 

I tested positive last Tuesday. I was feeling it Monday. I tested negative Monday morning. I felt worse throughout the day. I tested again on Tuesday and bam, two lines. 

I’ve been dreading those two lines for as long as they’ve had these tests. Then there they were. I know so many people who have had it or have it now that I didn’t lose my mind. I did feel like I failed somehow. I felt defeated. Shame. Which is ridiculous but my mind is always looking for that opportunity.

I have a pretty good idea where I may have gotten it. There are two possibilities in my head. It really doesn’t matter though anymore. Does it? This is the world. I chose to be out in the world as safely as possible and still do my work. I don’t have a huge social life but I was doing comedy as much as possible. I knew there was a risk. I took it. I got the bug. Happens. 

It’s been pretty mild really. I haven’t had a fever or aches or intense fatigue. I’ve been very congested, sneezy and a little tired. My chest has been tight on and off but I get that anyway, from panic.  

The quarantine has me spiraling at different points. It’s just a lot of time by myself with no exercise. I wake up in the middle of the night and my brain just starts going through all of the most frightening, uncomfortable events of my life. A full personal trauma immersive experience in images. I don’t know why my brain does that. I also felt very alone. It’s a choice. Though when you’re scared, you kind of want to make someone who loves you as scared as you are for comfort. 

My biggest fear, other than dying and chronic issues, is that the virus will linger and I won’t be able to pull a negative test before my gigs this week. We’ll see. I’ll test today and tomorrow. I just don’t want to let people down. I guess this is the world we live in now. I won’t be canceling because I have a movie shoot or some other excuse. Just the new Covid. 

I’ve done a lot of stuff during my quarantine: I put together an Oklahoma Joe’s Bronco Drum Smoker, I watched the new West Side Story and the old one, I finished Dana Stevens’ book Camera Man: Buster Keaton, The Dawn of Cinema, and the Invention of the 21st Century, watched Atom Egoyan’s Guest of Honor, began reading Feline Philosophy: Cats and the Meaning of Life, by John Gray, worked on my script with Sam Lipsyte, cooked a bunch of stuff, learned things, almost lost my mind a bit. 

Today I talk to Peter Dinklage about the Peter Dinklage thing. On Thursday I talk to Dana Stevens mostly about her Buster Keaton book. Great talks. 

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,

Maron

Bob.

Funerals, People.

We’re all going to have one. I don’t think any of them will be as truly loving and sad as Bob Saget’s. So many people loved this guy. It was overwhelming.

I have not been to an actual funeral in a long time. I always seem to find a reason I can’t go. Whether it’s geographic or I’m working, I just don’t go. For some reason I felt like I had to go to Bob’s. I need to understand that this is going to start happening more. There is a reason funerals happen. It’s to understand what is going to happen, normalize it, be there for your grief and the grief of others and honor a person’s life.

The service was moving and funny and sad. One of the things that many people said was that Bob really believes that laughing could and does bring people together. That is why he wanted to tour. To bring people together in laughter. It really made me think about my own work. Am I trying to bring people together? Is that what my comedy is? Sadly, no. I don’t think what I am doing is meant to bring people together, really. Maybe it will. I do appreciate that intention and will keep it in mind. I just think I’m doing something else. I might need to do it more Bob’s way. It takes more heart to do that. I’m a little guarded.

The Rabbi had a couple of good bits. Bob’s family was amazing. There were a lot of comics there. It really did what it was supposed to do. It made me realize Bob is dead, he was a great guy, it’s sad and he is now in the ground in a pine box.

That’s the thing that seems to be haunting me. I drive by that cemetery all the time. I see it from my hike. I think about Bob. I think about him being home in his bed at his house a week or so ago, waking up, living his life. Now, he’s there. In the ground. In a box.

It’s so upsetting. That is how it ends though for most of us. One of the ways.

I’m going to miss knowing he is alive in the world and it was always great to see him when I did.

Today I talk to Nicole Byer about stuff. She’s very funny. On Thursday I talk to John Mellencamp. He’s kind of funny. Great talks.

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

Cat Party.

Cats, People.

It was a rough week but I think we’re coming out of it. I’m not speaking about the world or the country because I’m not sure we’re coming out of whatever the fuck is unraveling at all levels. Here at my house though, some calm and balance has been restored, cat-wise. Not necessarily in my inner life but the cats are okay. 

After giving Buster an appetite stimulant, to which he responded horrendously, he ate a bit more that day. I was really dreading having to give it to him again. Along with the subcutaneous fluids it was just looking like a prolonged nightmare of not knowing what was wrong and Buster possibly not surviving. He didn’t really eat for six days. 

I know people say that cats can go a week or two without eating, but as someone pointed out to me, that’s if there is no food. If they're not eating and there’s food, there’s something wrong and it is not a ‘survival’ situation per se. It was killing me. It was so sad that this cat wasn’t being himself and that his pal, Sammy the Smush, couldn’t get him to play or engage. The whole thing was heartbreaking. This is my small life. 

The day after the appetite stimulant I woke up dreading the day, hyper obsessed with the cat, which doesn’t help them relax. I was sitting on the bed, putting my socks on and Buster was looking at me and my eyes welled up and I said, ‘Are you going to live, buddy? I can’t take this shit.’

That day he ate on his own. No medicine. I did give him fluids but he was on the mend, I was hoping. 

The next day he was eating everything. Lots of food. I actually woke up the following day to find that he had broken into the snack cabinet. It must’ve been open a crack and somehow he got up on the shelf which is at my eye level. He pulled down two bags of snacks and apparently ripped into them and had a fucking cat party. I assume Sammy was involved but not a perpetrator. He was most likely just in for the booty. 

I couldn’t really get mad because HE WAS EATING, voraciously. I did figure out a way to lock the cabinet with a rubber band so no more parties until he figures out how to open it which would mean he is an alien genius. It’ll happen because of course he’s an alien genius. 

Buster is totally back. I am relieved. 

Today I talk to Javier Bardem about being Desi Arnaz and all the other things. On Thursday I talk to Drew Michael about his new comedy special. Good talks!

Enjoy! 

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,

Maron

Another One.

Here comes another one, People.

That’s my version of Happy New Year.

Happy New Year sounds preemptively ironic under current conditions.

I watched The Asphalt Jungle last night. Sterling Hayden as the hooligan Dix Handley bleeding, almost stumbling, barely standing into the horse pasture of his family’s farm at the end is how it feels heading into this new year. He collapses and dies surrounded by colts sniffing at him. Sterling Hayden at the end of a few movies is sort of what it feels like right now. An electric hopelessness, an aggravated surrender, depletion. The end of Kubrick’s The Killing is another great Hayden resignation. As is Altman’s The Long Goodbye. Into the ocean in that one, I believe. I guess The Godfather could also work. He was shot in the head point blank and had a gagging, knowing moment before plowing face down into his food. All of these work. Happy New Year.

Heading into my New Year I’ve had nothing but panic and aggravation. Both my cats started vomiting on the Wednesday before New Year's. It always happens. Cats get fucked up right before long holiday weekends or right before you have to travel. I have no idea what got them sick. I can’t figure it out. Yes, cats vomit. These were spectacular, violent displays. Then not eating and more puking. I took Buster to the vet because he has a bum kidney and I thought that might be it. I thought Sammy might just be freaking out.

Turns out Buster's kidney, blood, piss, liver were all good. No blockages. He has pancreatitis though. Vague in its causes, perhaps a symptom. Who the fuck knows? The first vet told me he might need to be hospitalized. He gave me some anti-nausea meds and told me to bring him back in if he keeps puking. He did. Of course. The next morning I freaked and realized if he’s not eating or drinking I may need to give him subcutaneous fluids. I went back to the vet with Buster. I saw another vet. A nicer vet. A woman. She said fluids would be a good idea. I was freaking out about him not eating. She said don’t worry about it. Don’t put food out for another night and give him the digestive medicine food. I cried in the vet's office on New Year’s Eve day. I can’t take all this cat drama anymore.

He did not eat the medicine food. More panic. I reached out to my old vet, who was calming. Meanwhile Sammy doesn’t know Buster for days. Something that happens when you bring a cat home from the vet. The cats at home don’t know him anymore. I don’t know why. All this is adding to Buster’s stress. I get the fluids in him with Kit on New Year’s Day. Did it myself yesterday. I am stressed and exhausted. Neither cat is 100 percent. Buster is barely eating. It’s a fucking nightmare. Happy New Year.

I do have a lot to be grateful for as we enter this new hell. I’ll make a list.

Today I talk to the legendary Smothers Brothers. What an honor. I traveled up to Sonoma and hijacked a public radio studio to do it. On Thursday I talk to David Manheim about his drug-addled journey to creating the Dopey podcast. Great talks!

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

A Fairly Weak Delusion.

I’ve hit a wall, Friends.

It’s always the way it goes with the food. 

I know how to eat. I know how to maintain good eating. I know it’s the holidays but, fuck. It’s like some kind of daily negotiation and the stakes keep shifting towards it doesn’t matter. Then, delusional thinking sets in. I think I can eat like a person that can eat anything. It won’t matter. There will be no consequences. False. I fall for it every time. 

I know many of you are tired of me complaining about food or fat. Believe me, I am too. I know it’s a mental disorder I have around food and weight. I know. I also know the cycles. I’m just too old for this shit anymore. It’s ridiculous. What am I trying to prove and to who? I know that as well. Dumb. 

All that said, I think I’ve had enough cookies and chocolate for a while. Oh, and carbs and candy. I’ll be all right. I’m just up against a fairly weak delusion. I can win this thing. 

I have to be honest. I really didn’t feel the holiday. Not on a religious or spiritual level which I wouldn’t anyway. I didn’t feel it in any way. Usually, the quiet and slowness heading into the holidays starts to sadden me. I didn’t even notice it this year. Maybe there were some positive lessons during lockdown. Like, do I need to go anywhere?  Is being alone and quiet bad? No. Good, actually. 

I wasn’t alone all the time. Kit came by and hung out a bit. There was no celebrating though. We didn’t even think to. Nice. 

I hiked up the little mountain I hike up on Christmas day here in LA. It was raining, which is always glorious in southern California. Primarily because it’s not fire and everything always seems to need water here so when it gets wet it’s like the entire landscape coming to life. The air clears up totally after a rain here. It’s just amazing. There was hardly anyone out and I hiked into a cloud. It was a nice way to spend Christmas morning. Alone, in a cloud. 

I hope everyone had a good enough holiday and I hope your Covid isn’t that bad. 

Today I talk to Aida Rodriguez about her new comedy special ‘Fighting Words.’ We talk about her unusual upbringing, not knowing her true ethnic roots or her real father and finding out about them both. On Thursday I talk to the amazing actor Rory Cochrane about some of the roles he’s done and his life a bit. Good talks. 

Enjoy! 

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,

Maron

An Abyss of Me.

Breaking down, Folks.

I wake up feeling like I played rugby the day before.

My joints hurt. I’m always sore. I work out too much. To what end? If it’s to feel better, I’m not sure that is what is happening. I get the hiking, the cardio, the dopamine. That makes sense. The weights and the lifting things and the pulling things and pressing things and the squatting, I’m not sure about. How long does it go on? Until I’m just too sore and tired to do it? Until something gives or breaks.

I guess time will tell. I will adjust.

It’s the pushing myself that feels good, I guess. The discipline of it all. That’s what I’m holding on to. I wasn’t like this as a younger person. If I lose that, I may fall into an abyss of me. Brain maintenance.

My father, who is drifting away mentally said, “I can’t find myself today.’ And he meant it. I know that feeling in the abstract, as an exercise or a panic reaction, but not as a real problem. Terrifying. Like all he had left in that moment was the awareness to know that his self was missing. I hope he has some good days left. I hope I don’t get what he has.

On the upside, I’m looking forward to playing some music with the fellas tomorrow night at Largo. I don’t know how long everything is going to stay operational as this wave of plague rips through the world. So, I hope it's fun. We have six tunes we worked out and Whitney Cummings and Zainab Johnson will be doing comedy. As will I.

I am not a Hobbit person or much of a fantasy person at all actually. I talked to two directors this week who happen to be very good at the fantasy thing. Both seem to be moving toward more human subject matter or at the very least dealing with human characters exclusively in their most recent work.

I talk to Peter Jackson today about The Beatles, a lot. He had to wrangle a shit ton of footage of them dicking around in the studio to find the throughline for the amazing doc Get Back that is now streaming on Disney+. We talked a little about Hobbits, but not a lot. If you love The Beatles and/or Peter Jackson, this is for you.

On Thursday I have an amazing conversation with Guillermo del Toro about his new film Nightmare Alley and a lot of other life and art and film stuff. It was totally engaging and exciting to talk to him. He's a very intelligent, deep, decent fellow. Loved it.

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

More Will Reveal Itself.

Driving, People!

I was in New Mexico. I flew out there to see my dad and spend some time with him. 

He was waiting to get admitted to the hospital to have a procedure and it seemed like it was a lottery. It kind of was. Waiting for a bed, the game. He needed to have some fluid drained from his brain to relieve the pressure that may be causing his symptoms: memory loss, trouble walking, trouble with balance, etc. If it is what has been causing it, there will be hope. Maybe it isn’t dementia or Alzheimer’s. It would be good if it wasn’t but I will lose a pretty good chunk of new material. More will reveal itself. I’d rather he not have it.

It was a coincidence that waiting for a bed lined up with my visit. I just wanted to check in and see him. I got to spend some quality time with the guy. We had a lot of laughs. Ate some food. It’s hard to accept the frailty of your parents aging but something gave way this past week. I’m okay with it and I want to show up for him the best I can. 

They got him into the hospital late Thursday night. They did the procedure the following morning. He was doing well. 

While I was there I realized that my dad’s wife’s nephew, my cousin by marriage, owned a used car lot. I have been in the middle of a shit show with Carvana, rescheduling three times, and then we found out that the car I was going to buy for Kit was garbage. So, I reached out to my cuz, Gary Padilla at Houston Wholesale Auto on Lomas. He had a 2012 sparkly blue Hyundai Elantra with 78K miles on it sitting on the lot. Boom. I’ll take it. 

He fixed it up for me the next day, Friday. 

I decided to just drive the thing back to LA myself. I bought the car, canceled my flight, returned the rental, picked up the car.  My dad was doing well so I cut out at 5am on Saturday and drove 12 hours. The car runs great. I know for sure. I got home, had Kit sign the paperwork, gave her the keys. Took a shower and she took me to LAX to get my car in her new car. Exciting. 

It all worked out. Sounds like my dad is coming back around. Amazing. Maybe it will stick for a while. I can hear the old asshole in his tone again. 

Today I have an amazing talk with Halle Berry who just directed her first feature, Bruised. On Thursday, Cat Power (Chan Marshall) and I hash it out about music and the other stuff. Great talks.  

Also, there’s a holiday Cat Mug sale starting today at 12 noon Eastern time. Brian Jones, who hand-makes the mugs I give to my guests, has some new mugs that you can only get from his website. 

Go to brianrjones.com/wtf.

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,

Maron

It's Not COVID.

Sicky, Folks.

I have an old school cold. I haven’t been sick since before lockdown. Feeling nostalgic for regular cold and flu season when you didn’t have to get tested to make sure you didn’t have the plague that makes you a danger to other people. Well, specifically old people, immunocompromised and the unvaxxed. My sympathy is limited for that last bunch.

It was fortunate that I had to get a PCR test for an event I had to do Wednesday night. I was asked to moderate an FYC panel for ‘Reservation Dogs.’ It was me and Sterlin Harjo and some of the cast. It was important for me to do it. The more I think about that show the more I realize it’s probably the only truly groundbreaking show to come out in my conscious lifetime. Groundbreaking not in a structural or a pushing the envelope way. It's groundbreaking and relevant because it gives authentic voice and context to the marginalized communities of Indigenous people in a mainstream show for the first time in history. I watched a few minutes of the pilot episode again at the event and was moved to tears, again. Not because it was sad but because it felt honest.

Then I got sick. I hope I didn’t give anyone a cold. I just felt like I really wanted to be there. I got to meet a bunch of the cast and it was really great to talk to them all.

It’s not COVID!

I have been a bit on edge lately, people. I’ve been a bit dickish. I know. I’m trying to figure it out. I am aware though. I didn’t really think it was noticeable until Delray called me out about it on what might be the last Dark Fonzie podcast which will be out tomorrow. We’re getting along fine. I just don’t want to be tethered to the show. I’m tired. I feel overextended most of the time. The more things I commit to doing the more anxiety I have and that feeds the anger engine. I do appreciate the conversation we had because it made me own it and reflect on it honestly.

Might need to get to a meeting.

Today I talk to Jennifer Hudson. It was exciting to sit with my co-star from the Respect movie and chat. We never really did on set. So, this was our opportunity. On Thursday I talk to Jesse Plemons, one of the great character actors of his generation, about The Power of the Dog and his many other roles. Great talks.

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

The Great Unbuttering.

Here we are, Folks.

Alone with our flab. It’s been a long few days of eating and no purging. It is time to begin the great unbuttering.

Is turkey even good? I don’t think it is. I never eat it. Once a year I do. We all do, mostly. It’s not a great meat. I cooked it perfectly this year and it’s just okay. Disturbing really. The texture, the legs, just kind of nasty. I did nail it though. I nailed all of it. I timed it out perfectly this year and tried some new shit.

I made candied yams from scratch. Yams, butter, brown sugar, white sugar, maple syrup, orange zest, cinnamon, nutmeg, more butter. How could that be bad? I did olive oil and garlic mashed to counter the butter and sugar for balance. I tweaked my stuffing a bit. I made Samin Nosrat’s red cabbage slaw. I made the cranberry sauce and gravy and I got it all done well before people showed up. All I had to do was serve it.

It freed me up to spend time with my relatives. I talked to my conservative, bullying uncle for longer than usual. Most of them don’t really know what they’re talking about or really give a shit about anything but themselves. I think I got him to admit that, more or less. I guess that’s a victory.

I did see the Stones at Hard Rock Live last Tuesday. I reached out to someone I knew within the organization and was able to get a ticket for me and my brother. It was a relatively small venue for them, seven thousand. This was the first (and probably last) tour without Charlie.

People ask me if it was great. It was great to SEE them but it was sad as well. Mick was all in and doing Mick well but he is in his seventies. It’s good. I’m glad he’s doing it but there is a sadness to it. They aren’t sad, but when your heroes keep plugging away they become more like you. Human. Which is fine, but humans are mortals. I’m getting older and they’re older than me. I could see it in Keith. Like a tired warrior of rock and roll. Plodding away, plinking at the strings, lumbering. It was beautiful, but it really feels like this could be the last time. I don’t know.

Watching Keith walking back towards his amp while playing ‘Slipping Away,’ I felt it. He knew it. I knew it. He’s really done all he can and now he’s just riding it out because there is nothing else to do.

The Stones are the authentic item. No pedals. No backtracks. Straight in and straight forward. That’s the best you can be.

Today I talk to Bill Pullman. One of the great character actors. On Thursday I talk to Benedict Cumberbatch, another great character actor. Please watch him in ‘The Power of the Dog’ on Netflix on Wednesday so you can be involved in the conversation. Great talks.

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

Turkey Day Cage Match.

Here it comes, People.

Another Thanksgiving. How’s your hope holding up? I have none. I’m okay with it. I guess hope isn’t necessary to experience gratitude. It would seem almost the opposite would be a better foundation for true gratitude, total hopelessness. Then, feeling grateful really means something. Your life might depend on it.

Are you spending the holiday with family? Do you have a strategy? A game plan? Don’t go in blind. I know you know the players but you still have to watch your flank. You are heading into the ring. The family ring. The turkey day cage match.

People get older. Things change. You may not know some of the players' moves anymore. The object of the holiday is to get through the week without taking any major hits to your sense of self on any level and not cause drama or pain in others. Good luck, army of one.

I write this to remind myself. I’ve already gotten irritated by events and things that my brain is making up about what is going to happen. I’m already aggravated. That’s how my brain works. It plays it all out, the worst of it. In reality, it never plays out as bad or as good as my mind creates. That’s my unconscious prep. I don’t think it’s a good practice. Keeps me in my head.

That is a problem I forget I have. Being in the present. If I am in relation to someone, I can be me in the present. If I am on stage, I am in the present. The rest of the time I have to fight the good fight to not live in my head or on my phone.

I’ll try to remember we are all getting older and we aren’t going to be here that long. I should just be aware of when I’m about to say something hurtful or angry or weird. Except to my uncle. I’m just looking for a reason to unload on that guy.

See, even when I write that down, I know that when I see him, a whole lifetime of knowing that guy will come back to me. I’ll realize he is just a guy getting older with some really wrong-minded ideas and thoughts that I have to call him out on. Wait. That didn’t end right.

Be careful out there in the family battles. Have a good holiday.

Today I talk to Ridley Scott about as many of his movies as I could. Thursday I talk to the film critic Jason Bailey about NYC movies. It is a live episode that we recorded at the Paris Theater in NYC when I was just there. Great talks.

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monday and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

Sugar and Meat.

Sugar and meat, People!

I haven’t been to NYC since the before times. I didn’t know what to expect but it was great. 

I talk to my friend Lipsyte every day so I had a sense that things were opening up and functioning but I had no idea that the place was going pretty much full tilt. It was exciting to see so many people out doing things. Apparently, the vax rate and case rate here are low enough for people to have some sense of freedom. I went with it. I’ve been out in the world for months. Not the NYC world though. 

I posted an IG vid talking about my surprise that there was so much life and activity here. Immediately people who lived here chimed in with that stubborn, fuck-you-nicely energy that is pervasive here. A ‘what the hell did you think it would be like? It’s NYC, asshole’ type of attitude. I don’t know, tenuous and nervous, like everywhere else. It is not. There were masks where required and not masks if not and vax proof required mostly everywhere and it was alive. It was beautiful to see. 

Food breakdown: Mogador, Katz’s, Joe’s Pizza, Butter, Russ and Daughter Café, Café Reggio. Also consumed cannoli, sfogliatelle, pignoli cookies from Lucibello's in New Haven, brought to my Ridgefield, Connecticut show by Dean Falcone, chocolate babka from Bread’s Bakery brought to the live podcast taping by Cindy. More cannoli from Artuso’s Pastries brough to the taping by Jason Bailey. All amazing. Truly. My heart is straining under the sugar and fat. 

I want out of my body. Yay. 

Art Breakdown: Whitney Museum for Jasper Johns Retrospective and The New Museum of Contemporary Art for their 5th Triennial. Amazing. 

Comedy. 

After all these months of building this current hour and a half of material it was very satisfying to perform it in an amazing venue like Town Hall. The show was solid, tight, funny. It felt good. Mom came up with her sister and all of the important people in my life who are in this area came. It felt great. The show two nights before in Ridgefield, Connecticut at the Ridgefield Playhouse was very different and very amazing in its own way. The truth is when I’m working a set and material as hard as I have been for the last 5 or so months there are a lot of great shows and they are all a little different. 

We did a live podcast at the classic Paris Theater with Jason Bailey, the film critic and historian. We hadn’t done one of those in a while and it was fun. It made me remember all the live podcasts and radio shows I had done in my life. Getting in front of an audience in the morning. Easing into a conversation in public. Turning on the charm and juice after just getting up and getting caffeinated. Felt good.  

I’m exhausted. I’m going to see some jazz tonight (Sunday) at Dizzy’s Club at Jazz at Lincoln Center because I need some live jazz in my life. Warren Wolf. Vibes.  

Today I talk to George Clooney and Thursday I talk to Kenneth Branagh. Top notch surprising movie star talks. Real good.  

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,

Maron

Pumpkin Pie.

Right, Ladies? Right, Fellas? We all…

I don’t know. I don’t know what any of you do. I don’t know your lives. 

I’m glad I can understand most people’s peccadilloes and weird habits but I don’t have to relate to them to appreciate them. I’ve never really understood this compulsion to have a unifying language and experience around mundane behaviors or ways of life because I’ve never felt that much like many people. So, I’ve never been a comic that seeks to relate stereotypical behavior that applies to as many people as possible because I’d like to think we are more interesting than that. And we are. Whether we know it or not. 

We all contain multitudes. 

Some people have excavated or buried their uniqueness. Some people have let their brains go and allowed an occupier to take over or opted for shallowness in lieu of mental hygiene. That’s their fucking problem or gift. I don’t know. 

I just know that I can only speak for myself and hope that connects. Great. 

For instance, in the last few days I have: Baked a pumpkin pie from scratch including the crust and the pumpkin puree; I obsessed about my cat Sammy’s health for days even though he was probably fine; I offered to help the guy who came to fix my washing machine even though I know nothing about any of it (although he asked me what I did for a living because I seem ‘handy’ to him); I killed a rat with a trap and disposed of it all by myself.

Where my guys at?

In case you missed last Thursday's episode, there's going to be a live episode of WTF on Sunday, November 14th in New York City, and admission is free! I'll be talking movies with author Jason Bailey, who wrote the new book Fun City Cinema: New York City and the Movies That Made It. And we're doing this at The Paris Theater on West 58th Street, the only single-screen movie theater left in Manhattan. 

You can get tickets here: https://tinyurl.com/WTFParis 

It's gonna be first come, first served, so click that link and sign up before tickets are all gone. 

Also, I will be at Largo in Los Angeles to run the whole new set for the last time before I go to NYC. There might be tickets left. Check largo-la.com.

Today I talk to comedian Felipe Esparza about the rough world he grew up in and all the other stuff. On Thursday we are doing a special show about what it really means to be 'canceled' in comedy. How long have comedians said they're being canceled? What does actual censorship in comedy look like? And who or what has been responsible for shutting down free speech in the comedy world? For the episode we talked to comedy historian Kliph Nesteroff and Smothers Brothers biographer David Bianculli. Great shows!

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,

Maron

Existential Rage.

The deep, Folks. 

Things come around. Bad things mostly. Sometimes good things. When I think about the idea of coming around it always relates to patterns. Cycles of behavior, feelings, a return back to the Earth of you, whatever shape that is in. 

An old record that looks fine but has deep groove damage from bad styluses that ruins the songs, makes them grating, but you wait to see if it goes away and try to enjoy the song anyway. 

I’ve talked about tapping into anger lately because I may have stuffed much of it down in my grief. Because some part of me knew there was nothing to really do with it. Nowhere to point it. I imagine it is some manifestation of sadness or part of the evolution of that specific sadness of loss. 

One thing I don’t acknowledge as much as I should or as much as I used to is the deeper fury. The existential rage that is in my wiring. I had an opportunity to see that recently. Not so happy to report it's all still there. 

It’s not that I thought I processed it. I’m not sure there is a way to do that. I do know that the one way to stop is not to be in a situation where it is unconsciously summoned and I know exactly what those hooks are. I really want life to be simple but I am an old cat full of old, bad habits and distorted needs and self-centered fears. I have a lot to manage in the operation of my vessel. It is so easy for a fire to start in the engine room and put the entire mission at risk. 

Anger has ruined most of my relationships. I am incapacitated emotionally by having manipulative and needy parents who put the motherboard in me. I trust no one. When people care for me or show me love it’s like sandpaper or bad electricity because I am wired to know there is a price to pay. As far as giving love, I have no idea. I’m learning. I improvise. I show up with stuff. 

Truth be told, right up until I decided to acknowledge and honor my love for Lynn Shelton, I was in emotional hiding, safe. I have been with people that have ripped me apart or required me to rip myself apart. That’s home to me. I have been with people that don’t expect that out of me and it's comfortable. When I met Lynn it felt safe. Now that she is gone and I am on the precipice of returning to the garbage fire always burning deep inside me. I also can see an ocean rift. Deep sea fish, translucent and teethed, are surfacing. I wrestle them on the deck. On the stage. 

Anger and sadness are informing my comedy in a very visceral way. It feels like it's keeping me alive. I do not know if I am processing it. I have to figure out what needs to be done to do that before I destroy myself somehow. 

I think that might be what’s been going on with my ear. The pressure and rumbling in my head may be my anger and sadness trying to explode my head from the inside. To literally blow my head off. Thankfully, it’s on pretty tight. 

Today I talk to comedian Ricky Velez about NYC, his family and comedy. On Thursday I talk to Bob Spitz about his new Led Zeppelin biography but also about Bruce, Dylan and rock music in general. Great talks. 

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,

Maron

We Need the Water.

Let it rain, People!

I have never craved rain before living in Los Angeles. 

It gets to a point out here where I don’t even know how any vegetation is persisting. When I go on a hike, it all just looks like kindling. Barren and sad. So, when I hear there is rain in the forecast I just hope it comes down for days. 

Of course, with climate problems, a rain forecast is apocalyptic. There may be flooding. Entire mountains may slide away. I say, ‘bring it.’ We need the relief. We need the water. I’m ready to slide into the ocean, in my house. 

I’ve been talking to the young guns lately. The comers. The new comics. It’s making me think about my own drive, both now and when I started. What is ambition? I know it when I see it. I generally know when it is attached to talent or not. Sometimes it is just the drive that is being pushed. Ambition without talent will land you somewhere but if it requires any thoughtfulness or originality it will be found out to be an empty engine. Ambition is not a point of view. 

I can never quite identify my own ambition. I know I have it. I know I have been persistent but that is mostly because I couldn’t really see myself doing anything else other than being a comic. So, I locked in. I’m a lifer. When I talk to these guys and they talk about their goals they talk about ‘crushing’ and about playing MSG. It’s power talk, it’s winning talk, it’s the big ambitions. 

My ambition was to be a great comic in the tradition of the comics I respect. It’s subjective. Culture makes decisions through popularity and dumb polls but we all pick our heroes. I can honestly say I never really wanted to play MSG. It never seemed like a good situation for me. I certainly learned how to ‘crush’ early on but my drive was something different. I believed a comic’s drive was to find their personal truth, who they were, and use it to explore the bigger truths. Yes, getting laughs was necessary because that’s how you delivered the goods. Evolving as a comic for me was very tied up in figuring out who I was as a person. At some point the thrill of getting laughs took a backseat to the thrill of discovery. It still has. I get the laughs. I’m a pro. Am I getting enough? Who decides? Me, now. 

After talking to these guys and watching some of the other young guys at The Comedy Store hammer away with their jokes I started to wonder, ‘Do I have jokes?’ Of course I do. I am still capable of complete insecurity and self-judgement and self-abuse at times. So all this crushing talk stuck in my craw and Saturday night I organized in my mind for my 15-minute set in the Main Room so I could go out and crush with my jokes. Hard. There was even some space during the set for some in-the-moment discovery, which is what makes it amazing. I was killing so hard I actually took a moment to appreciate the riff and said, ‘Do you mind if I take a second to enjoy my brain?’ 

Will it be all about crushing from here on out? Maybe. That might be what I need to be doing. Just crushing. Ambitiously crushing. 

Today I talk to young crusher Hasan Minhaj about comedy and his life and the shows he’s been involved with and his new tour. On Thursday I talk to Jennifer Lee Pryor about herself and her late husband Richard upon the release of a new, very thorough, career-spanning Time-Life box set of his work. Lively talks!

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,

Maron

Purging.

Getting shit done, People!

I mean, kinda.

I’m purging my house. I’m trying to get rid of anything that brings me sadness or seems useless.

I finally went through the cabinets with the remaining supplements that Lynn had hoarded. I can’t look at them anymore. It makes me angry at that entire industry and at her naturalist doctor and at the idea that they could’ve helped. They didn’t. They didn’t save her. She was really sick.

That’s what all those bottles mean to me. I don’t think she ever felt well and self-medicating with supplements is fine for minor stuff but I can't help but feel if she had had a relationship with a regular doctor she could’ve, at the very least, had a bit more life.

I threw them away. I’m throwing away a lot of the stuff that collects in medicine cabinets, pantry cabinets, drawers. Some of it has been around for decades I think. I have been dragging dumb little things around for years. It just takes me a very long time to realize that they are meaningless.

It’s all becoming meaningless except for some books, artwork, music and strong artifacts of my past that keep me anchored when I see them.

I’ve gotten back into the habit of running a personal test kitchen for my own consumption just so I can eat healthier. Last week, I worked on mastering roast chicken, tahini sauce, baba ganoush, French carrot salad, roasted cauliflower and bone broth. It all came out well. I feel healthy just writing about it.

The rumble in my right ear is being treated with Flonase, Zyrtec and steroids. I’m listening to Archie Shepp as I write this and the rattling in my ear responding to his improvisational playing is adding another instrument that I have no control over. Exciting. Annoying jazz ear. Please don’t DM me about tumors. I’m on top of it. I am under a doctor's care. One who will take my calls.

Today I talk to Jane Goodall about hope and apes and people. It was an honor to talk to her. On Thursday I talk to David Chang about food and depression and anger and trying to accept joy and self. GREAT talks!

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

Vessel Repair.

How are you, People?

I’m in pain. Physical pain. Like, all the time. It’s my own fault. I have to choose between beating the shit out of myself mentally or beating the shit out of myself physically so I won’t do it mentally. 

I guess some things just aren’t going to change for me. I need to be within a certain weight range for me to believe I deserve to live. I am my mother’s son. 

I came home from weeks on and off the road and I definitely did not feel well in my vessel. My slightly heavier vessel. So, I had to focus and begin vessel repair. I was carrying a lot of ice cream and bad food choices. 

Over the last week I did my 50-minute straight incline hike and 20 minutes straight decline jogging descent three times. Alternating days. The other three alternating days I worked out. By the time Saturday came around I could barely walk but I felt like I was doing what I needed to do. I brought my calorie intake down to about 2000 a day and that became the job. 

My shoulders are fucked, my back is fucked, my big toes have been fucked for years. Now my left ear is fucked but that’s a different issue. 

This level of compulsive exercise had served me through the pandemic and through my grief. If I stop for a few days my brain goes dark and my pants don’t fit right. 

I figured out that my shoulders are probably a mess because I strained them doing pull ups and they never heal because of the yoga I do every day. My back, I don’t know. I wake up in pain. 

I decided to go to an acupuncturist. She did Gua Sha on me. Scraped at my pained places with a tool designed to do that kind of scraping. She burst a bunch of capillaries and made weird bruises all over my body. This is good according to the discipline. She stuck the needles in places and cupped a bit of blood out of others. I don’t do the Chinese folk medicine often. I’ve done it once in my life. I’m supposed to know if it helped by tomorrow. I do feel like I’ve been through something. Something less than shoulder or back surgery. 

In my heart I know that the real solution is to take it easier, maybe even take a month off. I just can't. I assume eventually I will break somewhere and have no choice. That will teach me to not accept myself. 

Today I talk to Taraji P. Henson, who I love. Totally. On Thursday I talk to Alan Ruck about Beuller through Succession. Great talks. Truly. 

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live! 

Love,

Maron

Dark Frequencies.

Indiana, People!

I’m back from Bloomington and home for a while. The material is coming along fine. I’m still riffing stuff out and need to lighten it up a bit. Shit is dark.

I usually go to Bloomington once a year or so. I haven’t been there in a while obviously. It was good to be back. The Comedy Attic is truly a great little club. It’s perfect for working shit out. I know most people think of Bloomington as a college town and it is. It’s something else though. I can never figure out what exactly.

Like I said, I’ve been going there for years and every time I’m there I feel a weirdness, maybe even a darkness pervading the chipper little city-sized quad. I mean, Indiana is sort of a red state shit show. This darkness is deeper and weirder. I think it has something to do with those quarries. Maybe they dug too deep and they unleashed something primitive. It isn’t menacing. Just crispy. Most of the times I’ve been there something weird has happened. With people. In hotel rooms. You know what I’m saying. That doesn’t really speak to the vibe though. Maybe mine, but not the general dark frequency, but maybe part of the cause.

It must be the layers. The primitive weirdness, the Republican weirdness, the college students that repeat themselves year after year like well grooved synaptic canals, the people that never leave the school for one reason or another, the locals and the drug addicts. It’s a strange balance.

The crowds are always great and the room is so small and tight there is no distance between thought and expression and it landing. No hiding.

The late shows get loopy because I can’t auto pilot. It’s a lot to put out.

I don’t know why I am a take-the-first-flight-out-guy but I kind of am. Especially if it's only one of a few nonstops. I got to bed around one on Saturday night and woke up at 4:15 to get on the road at 4:45 to drive the hour to Indianapolis and drop the rental off and get a 7am flight. Too early to even get coffee somewhere. Driving in the dark in basically waking consciousness while it's drizzling is a trip. Literally and figuratively. Did it really happen? It did. I am home.

The idea is, if I leave early, I’ll have a whole day at home in LA. A whole exhausted, loopy day that feels like it’s happening underwater. Totally worth getting up early to travel.

Today, I talk to Julie Delpy about her new show ‘On the Verge’ and her career and family and France. On Thursday, I talk to journalist and music critic Kelefa Sanneh about music and life. Good talks!

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron