Interspecies Affection.

Wired, People-
 
Man, I have got to turn my brain off or stop doing everything at full intensity. I lack the ability to compartmentalize properly. Everything just vibrates wildly at the same frequency. Every task is loaded with the same dire need for completion. Whether it's cleaning my car, feeding my cats, getting medical tests, making coffee, trading in records, cooking, taking care of bills, fucking, everything, same intensity. 
 
Each day is fueled by the panic of not getting everything done and there’s really no urgency to any of it and most of it is ongoing. 
 
I guess the point is I seem to like panic and dread. BUT the other side of that is that when everything is so loaded there’s a feeling of immense satisfaction when I get them done. Folding a load of clean laundry feels the same as if I just finished writing a novel. 
 
That’s the sad reality. I load up my docket with the mundane tasks and ongoing chores because I like being busy with that stuff. I don’t like writing. So, every day is filled with my life’s work of maintaining basic life.
 
I spent three days cleaning my office and I feel like I changed the world. I did. Mine. 
 
I really need to do some fun stuff like spend more time with friends, take a vacation, figure out how to just be calm and enjoy my life. What!? Without panic and worry? I don’t even know what that looks like. I can feel it’s possible. I can visualize it. 
 
Most of my patterns are so dug in I’m not even sure that free will exists outside of them. It all feels like chaos out there. It is. Maybe that’s what freedom is. Embracing the chaos. Riding the wave of not knowing or accepting that I actually don’t really know almost anything. Obviously, I have the freedom to do most of what I want. But what exists outside of my chosen reality and what does it take to get out there into that zone? It feels like that zone exists somewhere in between knowing you're about to get in an accident and hitting the other car. 
 
Also, I’m emotionally stunted and broken. I seem to spend a lot of time scrolling through animal vids. The ones that get me are the interspecies affection ones. Like dogs and cats, humans and monkeys, cats and birds, etc. There really seems to be genuine frequency of love out there among the beings without self awareness. I need to get there. Get out from under the paralyzing effects of my self awareness. Enough to open it up and be in that love frequency. I think I read that as chaos. I have to get this shit straight. Time is running out. 
 
Sorry, too much coffee today. A lot going on with my synapses.
 
Today I talk to my Bad Guys costar Anthony Ramos about his life journey from the projects to baseball to the original cast of Hamilton. Thursday, I talk to Jeff Stilson. He’s a great comic who wrote for Letterman for years and has been part of some classic comedy shows. Good week. 
 
Enjoy!
 
Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!
 
Love,
Maron

Wet Over Crispy.

Gray days, People!
 
I’ll take them. The weather in LA has been a bit San Franny lately and I fucking love it. If I hear another person whine about the slight chill in the air and the occasional drizzle I may set them on fire. This weather is so relieving to me. Not just because I prefer it but because it means I’m not worrying about the state burning or the air being filled with apocalyptic cinder particles. 
 
I didn’t move here for the weather. I don’t mind most weather. The fact is, it will be more than 100 degrees for long stretches of weeks ahead and knowing the earth is soaked and the water containers are full make me way less anxious. Bring on the clouds. Climate change is bad but I’ll take the wet over the crispy anytime. 
 
I reunited with an old friend of mine over the weekend. A guy I have known since he was a little kid and I was a slightly older kid. Our families were friends. I hadn’t seen him in more than 20 years. We lost touch. When he was a teenager he started doing comedy after I had been doing it a few years. He couldn’t really cut it so he decided to quit. He was funny. 
 
I ran into him here and there over the years. I helped him out of a crisis back in the day and got him into a better living situation. Then, I just lost him. I would hear things here and there about what he was doing. He got married, had a kid, got divorced, was having a hard time, kind of lost, etc. He reached out a few weeks ago and we got together the other day. He went to The Comedy Store with me. We caught up. It was very emotional. 
 
We get lost sometimes. People. I’ve been lost and found a few times. I’ve lived long enough to lose friends to disease and drugs and accidents. That’s part of it. I’ve also been around long enough to lose people to broken hearts and broken spirits which is in some ways harder. When some light goes out in someone and they can no longer access the essence that made them open to life it's hard to encounter but it too is part of it. 
 
I was nervous having heard things about this guy that his spirit may be broken and he may have hardened somehow. We were emotionally connected at one time, like family. I wondered whether or not that was gone. 
 
Right when I saw this kid (53 years old) at my door I knew he was still in the light somehow. There was still that connection and it was engaged. It's an amazing thing about life and the people in yours. Sometimes, time goes by and people get away from you, for years even. When you reunite and the essence of who you both were is still there it’s a beautiful thing. One of the amazing life moments available if you don’t lose yourself entirely or shift your brain into something alien or alienating. 
 
Today I talk to comic and actor Vir Das about India and controversy. On Thursday I have what I thought was a very fun and funny talk with the perpetually odd William Shatner. Good week. 
 
Enjoy!
 
Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!
 
Love,
Maron

Shot on Camera.

Calgary, People!
 
I snuck away to Calgary for a few days. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to get too jealous. 
 
Magpies and rabbits everywhere. It’s a strange thing when you travel out of the states and notice things. I notice birds all the time. I think I was in Sydney and there were cockatoos everywhere. How am I not going to notice that? In the states that’s exclusively a zoo or pet store thing. Granted, magpies and rabbits aren’t as exotic as cockatoos but they are pretty cool. I have rabbits in my yard but these were different, scrawnier, bigger. I also have parrots around but not cockatoos. 
 
It was a bit sad to get to Canada and see that the air was orange and smoky. There were fires burning out of control in Alberta and the smoke was hanging in the air in Calgary. It was all too familiar to me from the almost-ongoing fires in California over the last few years. No place to run. No place to hide. 
 
I was in Calgary for a specific reason. To get riddled with bullets. 
 
I was offered a role in a film about the white supremacist Nazi group from the eighties, The Order. I was asked to play the Denver talk radio host Alan Berg. He was an outspoken Jew and The Order massacred him in his driveway in 1984. It was a heinous murder. He was killed for his beliefs and point of view by domestic terrorists here in America. Now, that ideology and people who sympathize with it are no longer a marginalized point of view but one with defenders and supporters in the GOP and there are many more active groups with boots on the ground.  It’s happening. They are killing Jews, Asians, Mexicans, Blacks and more with regularity. Yet it still seems not to land in the public consciousness that this is an organized political movement that could take hold of the country. 
 
That’s the reason I had to take the role. Honestly, being shot for being an instigating, loudmouthed, lefty Jew has always been a fear of mine. One of my top three. I know, I am paranoid, but there is precedent and Berg is the most identifiable to me. So, the opportunity to play him enabled me to get into the skin of a guy, not unlike me, and live out a nightmare. Then play it out in fiction and hopefully keep it there. 
 
I took the role because I didn’t think anyone else should or could play the guy. I am that guy in a way. It’s not much screen time but it means something. It means something to me and gives even more context to the fascist shit show unfolding in this country now. 
 
I only have a couple of scenes in the film. There’s me talking on the mic. There’s me leaving a diner. There’s me driving home. There’s me being shot in my driveway with an automatic weapon. 
 
We shot the shooting part this trip. 
 
I had never been shot on camera. I had never been rigged with squibs. Now I have. The feeling of the squibs blowing up under my jacket and blowing blood out of holes in my back was intense. Being confronted by someone with a machine gun is horrifying. Lying in a pool of blood, dead, is messy, sticky and uncomfortable because I wasn’t really dead and it wasn’t real blood. I saw playback of the shooting and it was disturbing. 
 
Great conversations this week. Today I talk to Smokey Robinson. What an honor that was. Thursday, I talk to Amy Sherman-Palladino who is the writer/creator of The Amazing Mrs. Maisel among other stuff. 
 
Enjoy!
 
Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!
 
Love,
Maron

A New Cat Fountain.

Busy work, Folks
 
A lot of big work going on over here. The baby bird obsession has been lifted. They split. 
 
I’m having my house painted. Have to. It’s time. I was very concerned about the bird’s nest in the front at the top of the roof and the little chickees. Black Phoebe babies. I almost postponed the entire job. The painter said he’d work around them and wait. I was kind of freaking out about it. Yesterday they left. No more bird shit all over the steps. So, gone. Relief. Moving on. 
 
My brain latches onto things hard. Things that take me out of myself. Things that stop the world from spinning in my head. Things that stop the panic. Things that give purpose, small purpose. Things that make me feel like I have accomplished something in the real world. Things that hold back the realization that the entire cycle of horror in this culture is starting again. It’s the little things. 
 
For instance, I needed to buy a new cat fountain. It’s a basic one. Petsafe. The original model. Sammy liked to drink out of it. It was caked with hard water deposits and just getting nasty. I cleaned it the best I could and it wouldn’t work anymore. So, I thought, trash. I got eight or so years out of it. It’s okay if it's garbage now. It’s not a huge purchase. Just get another one of the same. I do that with things that I could upgrade. I get attached. So, I trashed it and got a nice one of the same model.
 
While unboxing the new one I looked at the instruction manual. There were specific instructions about removing deposits. Even step by step instructions on how to disassemble the pump to get them out of there as well, which I assumed was the problem. So, I had some time. I like to do things. 
 
I got the old one out of the garbage. Disassembled the pump, soaked everything in a vinegar and water solution for a few hours. All the deposits came off and the pump started working again. Now I have two fountains. Can I say I ‘refurbished’ it or is that a stretch? Like, if I wanted to put my old fountain on Craig’s List or eBay could I say 'refurbished Petsafe fountain?' 
 
Is it odd that I felt a major satisfaction in getting it going again? I didn’t renovate a car. I didn’t strip a piece of furniture and restain it. I am excited though. I feel the same way when I do laundry. Not interesting conversation starters. ‘This is the pet fountain I refurbished.’
 
I built a cat door for the window as well. It's like my job. Home management. I once rewired the charger of a hand vacuum because my cat had chewed through the wire. It barely works but I don’t replace it. 
 
Hardware stores are meditative places. The noise stops and your mind is filled with possibilities. Building things and places mentally is calming. 
 
I do think about life and the world and the ends of both while I do the things. It’s my process, I guess. 
 
Today I talk to a true film artist. The singular Paul Schrader about his work and God a bit. Thursday, I talk to Warren Zanes, formerly of the Del Fuegos, about his new amazing book on the making of Bruce Springsteen’s Nebraska. Great chats. 
 
Enjoy!
 
Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!
 
Love,
Maron

A Well-Tended Garden.

Florida, Folks.
 
Still vegan. 

I’m flying as I write this. I have to be honest. I requested vegan meals on JetBlue going to and from Florida and they were good. I mean, they felt like they had a little heart in them. Like someone had to focus. I should have been ordering them for years.
 
I’ve been feeling different in the morning because of the vegan thing. I’m not sure if it’s actually a physical feeling or a mental feeling. I just feel cleaner inside. Like I’m not processing something awful. If the whole gut-brain connection is true, if the gut bug garden has any bearing on mental disposition, I think I’m feeling it. It doesn’t seem like just righteousness. It seems more organic, actually. No joke. 
 
I spent some time with my mother. I don’t always know exactly what to say or do when I go to see my mother. I don’t have grandkids to talk about. The life stuff talk goes by fast. The conversation kind of craps out pretty quickly. Over time, I’ve come to realize that seeing your aging parents sometimes means just sitting there while they flip through their phone or watch tv or putter around the house or talk to their dogs or do nothing. It’s okay just to be. It’s logging the time. 

I saw John, my mom’s bf, who I respectfully made fun of on my newest special. It took a lot of refining to make sure it wasn’t mean. I hadn’t talked to him since he’d seen it. I wondered what he thought about it. It took a day or two, but he said he liked it. He said it was some ‘Lenny Bruce stuff.’ That was very nice of him to say. He had seen Lenny back in the day. I also noticed I didn’t hear him say, ‘It was a different time…’ once. 
 
I also watch John putter around their little patio which he has cultivated into a well-tended little garden with potted plants. He replaced a small pinwheel ornament on the fence while I was there. It was one of four. We watched them spin a bit. Logging time. 
 
There are a couple of caveats to the talks this week. I’ve been festering about both of them, which I don’t often do. Today I talk to Rachel Weisz. I love her. Who doesn’t? I was excited to see her. That aside, I watched the entire Dead Ringers series she’s out promoting. I remember the Cronenberg film it’s based on. It’s a disturbing horror movie about twin gynecologists played by Jeremy Irons. In the new one, Rachel plays the twins. It’s a totally different approach and I was kind of blown away by the whole thing because it landed as a very deep, very powerful feminist piece of art. It’s fucking gnarly though. So, I was pretty excited about talking to her about it but I don’t think I was very clear how to break down my experience with it. I’m not now, either. I tried though and I may have been a little too excited. 
 
On Thursday I post my talk with Ice Cube. I had no idea what to expect. I had no sense of him as a person. I knew the scowl. That was burned into my brain. As with most of my talks, I seek to connect. I know Cube has some dubious tweets about Jews. I know he refused to get the Covid vaccine. I thought maybe the Jew thing would come up but once he got loose we just talked about the work. At some point during the talk I realized there was really no way to approach the Jewish stuff unless I sandbagged him at the end. I chose not to, because I enjoyed the talk and I don’t really think it would’ve changed anything or if he would’ve even engaged. 
 
Clearly, he didn’t have a problem with me, a Jew. 
 
All that said, these are both great conversations. 
 
Enjoy!
 
Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!
 
Love,
Maron

To the Porch.

Porch time, People.
 
I just have to accept that this is my idea of fun. Sitting on my porch. I’m sitting here as I write this. 
 
I don’t know if I would experience this feeling on any porch but I sit out here and watch and listen to birds. I watch neighbors walk by as they look at me over the gate that’s connected to nothing but a hedge. I think about my yard and things that need to be done. I read sometimes. I smoke cigars sometimes (I’ll be off again soon). I write. I eat. I spiral. I figure things out. 
 
I don’t know if it’s the porch so much as it is a commitment to ride that line between what’s in my head and what’s outside of it without too much movement. Without too much stress. 
 
I guess I’ve been talking about it a bit. What am I supposed to do now? How do I enjoy my life? There’s a lot of things I think about doing, things I picture myself doing. Like traveling the world or buying an apartment in NYC. Like getting a newer, nicer car or getting my house painted. I’d like to think I’m the kind of person that can do all these things and enjoy them. I think that’s a fictional me that enjoys watching me have a good time. I am much more bound to the moment. To the porch. Where I eject from my head and listen to birds or ponder a bush I may get rid of. That’s tangible. The bush. The birds. The now. 
 
I always stop short of doing many of the things I see myself doing. It takes a lot of momentum to overcome the anxiety or dread of action to get me out of my head. I’m glad I don’t smoke weed. Then I could live in my head. 
 
I’m not completely paralyzed. If there is something I really want to do, it will eventually happen. I don’t even think about it that much. It’s more like I plant it in my head. There’s some natural part of my brain engine that works it. Shapes the desire and puts it into the ‘to do’ box without a deadline. It happens in its own time. 
 
I can manifest. I guess I should trust my filter and process. Maybe I know myself better than I give myself credit for. I do things in the world. 
 
I’m not a spiritual person. I can and do move my imaginary self through some pretty exciting stuff that I think happens in the same space spiritual stuff happens. As long as it’s not a disaster. 
 
Today I have a very engaged, deep, heavy and spiritual talk with the actor/musical artist Tituss Burgess. On Thursday I talk to psychedelics veteran Shane Mauss again about his journey ending up in a psych ward. Great talks.
 
Enjoy!
 
Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!
 
Love,
Maron

The Pills.

Numbers are in, People!
 
It’s strange but my healthcare app will deliver my test results to me without my doctor's comments. Just as is. Then he generally chimes when he sees them. I got the blood panel on Friday and most of the results came through that night. I guess he’ll assess today. 
 
After three months of straight up veganism (though I may have had a little egg here and there in bread) my numbers are a bit better but I don’t think good enough to not be on the medicine. My LDL cholesterol was 102. Apparently, it should be below 100. It should be around 80, I think, optimally. Sooooo, what that tells me is that I am cursed with a genetic flaw that jacks my cholesterol. Disappointing. 
 
No matter what I eat I’m stuck with this borderline number. Not horrible, not great. Why not just take the pills?
 
If I’m going to take the pills that leads to the other question: Why not just eat whatever the fuck I want? There’s definitely part of me that thinks that. Why can’t I just accept that I need the medicine? It’s weird, there’s a little bit of anti-vaxxer in all of us. No one wants to need pills but the other side of that is, ‘Hey, they have pills for this. Great.’ I rarely feel that way. 
 
I haven’t really been craving meat. I think I’ve probably eaten enough meat for one lifetime. I’ve never really been a dairy person. Maybe it would be kind of good to eat fish a few times a month. I’ll have to decide. I know a lot of people are counting on me to not play a part in the animal death machine. We’ll see. 
 
The other news is I got my sugar down a bit. Out of the prediabetic range. That’s good. That one feels potentially like the bigger problem.
 
A buddy of mine told me to get my testosterone checked, so I did. It’s actually a little high. No idea what that means for my health but I feel proud for some reason. 
 
Being a man is dumb. 
 
Today I talk to J. Smith-Cameron about playing Gerri on Succession and acting and her husband, Kenneth Lonergan. Thursday, I talk to David Mandel about writing for SNL, Veep, Seinfeld, The Harvard Lampoon and his new series, White House Plumbers.
 
Enjoy!
 
Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!
 
Love,
Maron

Awkwardness and Revelation

Jokes are coming, Folks!

I didn’t know if they would. They usually do. I never assume they will. They are. It’s always a wonder to me. 

I’m relaxed. My new zero fucks default position is in full effect. I love it. Just being funny. 

I forget I just have to wait. Not even that long. I get done with an hour of material and I get depressed. I feel burnt out, depleted, uninspired. I lean into mundane tasks. By lean into, I mean get hyper focused on. Cats, cooking, yard maintenance, laundry, shopping for necessities, going through boxes, cleaning, personal grooming, exercise, polishing shoes, fixing shit, etc. Staying engaged in my life is the bedrock of my creativity. I know this all just sounds like life but it is consuming. While doing all of those things I take time to feed my head. Read, watch movies, TV, learn new things, parse the news, watch my peers work. Eventually things start to shake loose creatively. 

It would be better if I just allowed myself the space and didn’t have a current of self-flagellation surging through me but that is what it is. I am grateful to earn a living with my creativity. The job is living and thinking. Festering and churning. Blurting and being embarrassed. 

That is the biggest part of my struggle. Transcending embarrassment. It always has been. It’s one of the reasons I’m a comic I believe. 

My mother embarrassed me constantly. It was the most paralyzing feeling through most of my childhood. It made me nervous and unstable but it was amazing training for standup. To literally stand in your embarrassment in front of strangers and squirm out of it with the funny. 

I was at Largo the other night riffing. I got into some personal stuff as I am wont to do. It was too revealing and weird. I left feeling exposed and embarrassed and judged and ashamed somehow (I was generating most of that). I HAVE FELT THAT SO MUCH when I process shit on stage. I guess it’s taking that risk that eventually defines what I do. I hone the awkwardness and revelation of me.

So, that’s where I’m at. Again.

Today I talk to Ray Romano about our almost simultaneous start in stand up and out almost simultaneous pursuit of serious acting roles. On Thursday I talk to the amazing Lily Rabe about her roles and life and theatre and the new show Love and Death, which is great. 

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,

Maron

A Targeted Ad.

Jesus, People.
 
Happy Easter, Jesus people. Happy Pesacccch, Jews. 
 
Once again, I did nothing. I have no family near. I apparently don’t factor into guest lists of peers for the holidays. I am not complaining. Well, maybe a little. I do this every year for every holiday that involves people being together. That’s most of them. 
 
I think there was a time when I would go to things. People would never invite me but they would invite the women I was with at the time. Couple stuff. I knew the people but I guess I’m unapproachable or they assume I won’t respond or they assume I won’t come. It’s hard to know. 
 
Every holiday I reflect on my lack of even casual friends that I can be casual with at a dinner thing. It’s weird. I guess I don’t do my part. I am a casual person. Casually intense. 
 
I do know I did nothing for Passover. I grew up doing something for Passover. A Seder somewhere. Four questioning, dipping the herbs, repeating the plagues, finding the cracker, the whole schmear. 
 
People my age are freeing up, wondering, dealing with new, old time. I’m at an age where many of my peers have kids who have left or are leaving. Many of them seem to be re-entering the circuit of work, play, free time. "Hey, man. I know it’s been about 18 years, but I have time now. Want to hang?”
 
It’s fine. I can’t talk about kids but I can talk about other people and health concerns. Those are biggies. 
 
I am reflecting as a means of remembering. I exist for the moment. I feed on it. It’s why and how I have done almost everything in my life. The problem with it is you don’t always experience what you are doing until it's behind you. I’ve been thrown into a personal research project by a targeted ad. I saw an ad for an app that makes pics out of old slides. I have hundreds of old family slides dating back to before I was born. I am searching through my pre-me past and early me to see what I was living through, how I was dressed, the looks on my face. 
 
While I was in my attic finding the old carousels I found a box of old journals. There are three full notebooks that I wrote in compulsively after my wife left me. The immediacy of journal writing when one is in pain and shock is a visceral read. It takes me back to the emotions immediately. Seeing the way my mind worked then is sad because it still works that way. The events were traumatic but the circuits are deep, seemingly unchanging. Behavior can change but the wiring is a closed circuit. A vibrating inner ouroboros that is the core of you. Or maybe the netting around the core. 
 
Time is running out. I hope I land on some prolonged peace of mind before I lose it or crap out. The shifting off. 
 
Today I talk to Steven Yeun who is one of the best actors working. Deep dude, too. On Thursday I talk to Alex Borstein. Also a great actor and intense Jew. We had an intense Jew off. 
 
Enjoy!
 
Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!
 
Love,
Maron

The Early Days of You.

21,738 days, People!

That’s how many days I’ve been alive. Wild. 

I don’t know what compelled me to figure that out, which means Google Search it, but I was compelled. I think I have moments when I doubt my accomplishments or wonder how much time I have wasted in relation to time alive and awake and engaged. I guess it’s relative though. 

What is wasted time? 

It’s all gotten me here. To this moment. To this life. I don’t think I have regrets but I do wish I had a different brain sometimes. A brain that doesn’t feel compelled to figure out how many days I’ve been alive and how many of them were a complete waste of time. I wish I had a brain that could easily do the math required to break down, on average, how much time I was sleeping, high, masturbating, spacing out, working, eating, doing comedy, talking on the mic, having sex, driving. I just want to get a full chart of squandered potential alongside of what I actually accomplished so I can compare and rationalize my process and life’s work as not being possible to have happened any other way than how it did.

Which is true. 

I was just thinking about patterns and spirals and the unconscious circling back again and again to what defines my life and who I am and how I think. I believe it has evolved and changed a bit but that’s just the routing. I've aged out of some grooves and I’ve learned some lessons. 

I started thinking about it all because of this vegan thing. It’s been more than two months. I had this realization that I attempted it before. Once? Twice? Who knows. 21,738 days. Somewhere in there. It’s like a déjà vu type of feeling only it isn’t really that. It’s not a feeling that you have experienced something or been somewhere that seems new. It’s realizing you actually have been or done or seen something before in the early days of you. 

The strange thinking about getting older and adding up days is that many fade into the background and get pulled up as fragments and memories only when they are triggered somehow. Then you have to sit with it, work through it and figure out if it was a dream or not. If you were the only person involved it becomes hard to put it all together. 

I am not loving the vegan thing. I don’t feel better in any way. I feel bloated and gassy most of the time. The only good thing is that I know I am better than other people. 

Great talks this week! Today I talk to Brooke Shields about Brooke Shields and on Thursday I talk to Kelly Reichardt about her movies, all of them. 

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,

Maron

Art Talks.

Fermented, Folks!

So, after a long three weeks of anxious waiting and checking and pressing down upon, my cabbage has become kraut. I have to say, it’s pretty great. If you like that kind of thing. I am the savior of my own gut garden. I have a lot of it. Might have to give some away. It’ll keep though. It will continue to sauer. Not unlike me.

I’ve been into the art talks. I loved talking to Laurie Anderson. I recently talked to Kelly Reichardt which I will post in good time. I talk to Karina Longworth today. She’s a film critic and she hosts the You Must Remember This podcast, which I was familiar with but hadn’t listened to until recently. It’s great. It’s not quite film criticism. It’s the history of Hollywood and all that implies. So, it moves through film, production, celebrity, business, culture.

We got into talking about film studies and real film criticism. I minored in film criticism in college. She has a Masters in it. These kinds of conversations always make me a bit insecure. Intellectually, I never really think I know enough or really understand art and film in the right way. I can reference writers and movies but I generally feel like a fraud. I know there is no right way to appreciate art, but there is. There is a sophisticated, intellectual and critical approach to art and film that encourages a deeper understanding. I just don’t think I quite have it. I have something, but I’m generally winging it.

That’s not to say that my life and experience and education doesn’t inform my opinions and insights and they are relatively diverse and vast but I just think I fall short. I’ve done some of the reading. I’ve taken some of the classes. I’ve had the conversations of an excited student of film. That was a long time ago. I’ve picked up bits and pieces of ideas and theories here and there over the years.

I just don’t trust my understanding because I compare myself to the people who wrote the books I barely understood or taught the classes based on the writings of the people who wrote the books. AND I never feel like I’ve seen enough or read enough. So, I just beat myself up over not paying attention or studying enough or correctly 35 years ago.

When I do relax, I realize that I know more than I think and my insights are valid and some are even uniquely mine. That’s enough. Until they ask me to teach a class. Then I’ll just pretend to understand the writers that really no one understands and help create a generation of adults who doubt themselves.

I am once again having the conversations of an excited student of film. Today is one of those.

On Thursday I talk to comedian Cathy Ladman who I watched at the Comedy Store when I was a doorman. It was great catching up.

Enjoy!

Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!

Love,
Maron

A Different Space.

Oh, Superman.
 
I honestly cannot believe I got to talk to Laurie Anderson. She was pitched and I was amazed. She has occupied a place in my mind since freshman year of college. I had her first record, Big Science. I had never heard anything like it. Actually, I still don’t think I’ve heard anything like it. She is singular.
 
She is one of those artists I just assumed occupied a different space than the one I do. In a way she does. She is out there doing art of all kinds, all the time. Active. 
 
I wasn’t even sure where to start with her or what to do. I remember when she and Lou got married. Knowing what I thought I knew about Lou it was odd to wrap my head around but, in some way, made sense. She’s had a very long and full career as an artist but hardly any of it mainstream since those first few records. We just dived in and talked. 
 
I always like talking to artists who were in NYC in the seventies because it sounds like it was some kind of abandoned wasteland. Which it was in some ways. The way she talks about downtown and the artists who were around is kind of mind-blowing. I remember thinking that when I talked to Kim Gordon as well. 
 
The real surprise talking to Laurie came when I discovered she had a funny relationship with Andy Kaufman before anyone knew who he was, maybe even him. 
 
I had a great time in NYC working with Melissa McCarthy last week. It’s a small part in a Christmas movie but we had fun. We did some riffing. I’m going to embrace the clown more. My clown. I’ve said my piece. Now, I just want to do some goofy shit. Okay, maybe not always, but more. 
 
That said, I guess we’ll see where we stand Civil War-wise tomorrow if Trump gets arrested. Let’s see how many of his morons cause trouble. I would imagine not many. You have to be real dumbshit to still believe in that guy. A real follower/sheep/no-brain/needs-a-daddy type. I would assume the fear of jail time will stop most of them. We’ll see! Exciting times. American autocracy on the move. 
 
Today, as I mentioned above, I talk to Laurie Anderson. On Thursday I talk to comedian Nick Youssef who I feel like I’ve known since he was a child. I kind of did. 
 
Enjoy!
 
Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!
 
Love,
Maron

Magic.

Oscars, People!
 
Obviously today you won’t hear me talk about the Oscars because we put together the show earlier. Maybe Thursday. I am about to watch them as I write this. I still get excited. Weird. 
 
Some part of me loves the spectacle of show business. Some part of me can’t stand it. That part is still smaller. As I talk to more actors and directors and people involved in the creative undertaking of making stuff I realize they are all just people but I’m still sort of in awe and feel smaller than the people on TV in the fancy clothes. 
 
As I’m watching I’m having a realization. It really is about art, creativity and yes, commerce, but it’s about making amazing things. I can be pretty dismissive about major achievements in cinema but I also know what it takes to make a movie and to deliver a performance. It’s fucking magic, really. For it all to come together, magic. 
 
I’m not sure David Byrne is hitting the notes as a watch right now. It’s okay. It looks cool. 
 
So much of my life, doing what I do, was fueled by being an outsider and having the luxury of spite. I think some of that was astute but much of it was petty. I can feel it now. Sometimes I talk shit and it’s correct. But is it necessary and is it a good thing for me to do? How does it make me look? I really need to keep the focus on my own creativity. Though some of it is still spiteful and fueled by spite. I’m a spite artist. It’s one of my colors. 
 
I am still kind of an outsider but I’ve sort of found my level and am able to work in a lot of different mediums. 
 
It has actually been a great honor to talk to some many of the people I respect in this business. I kind of take it for granted now or see it as just what I do. It is still exciting and I am excited to see all of my former guests in the room at the Oscars. Sure, I’d like to be there but only if I am supposed to be for one reason or another. 
 
Today I talk O’Shea Jackson Jr. about his dad (Ice Cube) and his life being that guy’s son and coming into his own. On Thursday I have a conversation with comedian Ashley Barnhill, who used to work for me, about the life-threatening accident that caused her to need a new skull. I also talk to Jason Woliner about his bizarre, provocative masterpiece that consumed years of his life, Paul T. Goldman.
 
Enjoy!
 
Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!
 
Love,
Maron

Soul Dumpster.

Hello, Old Friends!
 
I am one of the new olds. It’s time to reckon and accept. 
 
I am flying back from New Mexico as I write this. I went to see my father who is actually holding relatively steady and in a slightly spaced state. He still knows who I am when I am there. He still knows who he is mostly. He is not really sure what happened at some points in his life. Mostly the catalysts of negative events where he either got taken or he got in trouble. I guess if you are going to forget some big chunks, those would be a relief to be done with. 
 
I spent many hours with him over the weekend trying to piece periods together with him. His memory is actually very thorough. The time lines are vague. I think that is a symptom of age. If you didn’t take notes, shit gets jumbled and events float untethered in your history of you. 
 
I have been trying to put my own timeline together. Almost six decades into this charade and having lived in five different cities, some twice, makes it tricky. I have no familial stability as markers. No kids. Though two wives explain about nine years of some consistency, at least around who was primary in my life. Other than that it was a few cats and a lot of interactions and engagements of many different kinds with many different people (yes, I’m being a little cagey). Much of this time I was an active drunk and addict and driven by fury to manifest my desire to be a comedian. That was always the priority. 
 
Through the course of that I did a lot of emotional damage to myself and others and have a somewhat vague recollection as to the catalysts of some of the more painful changes I went through. Just like my old man. I believe I can still excavate that timeline. 
 
I’m reflecting now because I was home and spent time with a couple of my oldest friends. The new olds. We are all around sixty and one of them puts a time limit on how much we can talk about physical health, blood numbers, poop, exercise, aches and pains. We were able to isolate that I was probably the biggest asshole when I was in my early to mid-twenties. Because I would come into town occasionally and be that. They didn’t really know me that well as I became a more evolved asshole in relationships. 
 
I’ve worked through most of this stuff. Sometimes with the people I hurt. A lot of it is sort of toothless now within me other than some shame residue. We all have broken hearts and broke hearts. 
 
I guess seeing my father this time trying to put it together for himself but ultimately landing on ‘I just don’t care anymore’ was profound. I imagine ‘I just don’t know anymore’ is soon to come. It will all go. 
 
So, I wouldn’t say I’m being nostalgic but I am on a psychological dig into my memory for understanding the impact of who I was on myself and others and hopefully finding some good stuff as well in the soul dumpster. 
 
Today I talk to Ronny Chieng whose specials I watched the day before meeting him. Great comic. Intense guy. On Thursday I talk to Bobby Farrelly about his work with his brother and his new film, Champions.
 
Enjoy!
 
Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!
 
Love,
Maron

Get Noisy.

Good news, People!
 
Sometimes collective action can save lives. 
 
At the beginning of the month, I talked about an Iranian comic named Zeinab Mousavi. She was arrested in Iran for telling jokes about the government and the police, and she was sentenced to two years in prison after already spending a month in solitary confinement. 
 
We were told that the most effective thing anyone could do was raise attention about Zeinab, because the Iranian government doesn't like when things get noisy. 
 
Well, we were told last week that the government has thrown out Zeinab's prison sentence. And we were told that the only reason they did not put her back in jail was because of the media attention. 
 
She is still barred from doing standup comedy again, but she will continue to make videos on Instagram. 
 
Everyone who took the time to boost Zeinab's story on social media helped keep this woman out of jail. Something that only takes a moment of your time can be the difference in securing someone else's freedom.
 
There are still thousands of Iranians in prison for speaking out against the current regime. 
 
Two we were told about are Toomaj Salehi, a rapper who is in solitary and faces execution for his songs, and Fatemeh Sepehri, a women's rights activist who faces an 18-year sentence for saying the Supreme Leader should resign. 
 
Put their names out there. We will post them on our socials. And do this whenever you learn of political prisoners in Iran. Zeinab is proof that you can make a difference just by saying their names. 
 
On another note, I appreciate all the emails and tweets to me from Fermentation Fetishists. I know I was excited about making my own kraut but I don’t want to make a life out of it. I’m not planning on going down a rabbit hole of rotting vegetables but I did want to know how to do it. 
 
Also, I finally finished Tim Blake Nelson’s novel City of Blows and it was very satisfying and well written. He nails the ending which isn’t always the case with novels. It’s a great read about nasty show business. 
 
Today I talk to Austin Butler about being Elvis and having a hard time shaking the accent and other things. On Thursday I talk to Hong Chau about The Whale and feeling left out and other things. Great talks.
 
Enjoy!
 
Boomer, Monday and LaFonda live!
 
Love,
Maron

The Belz.

So many deaths, People.

I guess that’s what happens. Wait. I’m sure that’s what happens. To all of us. 
 
I’m at an age where I see a lot of the people I knew and looked up to in the generation or two before mine die. It’s a natural thing. It is the norm. It’s not as hard as seeing peers pass somehow but it’s sad and jarring when the news comes in. 
 
Richard Belzer, The Belz, is dead. He was 78.
 
Belzer was a like a mythological being to me when I was kid. In the early to mid-seventies when I was starting to become obsessed with standups and funny people I read an article. I think it was in Rolling Stone. It was about the original Catch a Rising Star, the club in NYC. It was all about the house MC, Richard Belzer. In my recollection it described him as an edgy, button-pushing, drugged up maniac of a comic. I was fascinated with anyone who was a drugged up anything. The article describe him doing a Mick Jagger impression and basically being a menace of a clown on stage in between acts. I was blown away by just the idea that this guy existed. I hadn’t heard of him or seen any of his comedy. It was kind of hard to come by. The concept of Belz was burned into my mind. 
 
At some point I saw the movie The Groove Tube and there was Belz in the cast with a pre-SNL Chevy Chase. He was in a sketch called The Dealers and to this day I think he actually vomited in the car. This just solidified him in my mind as a rebel and cool fuck up. 
 
After I started doing comedy and meeting some of the older guys I would hear stories here and there about him but he stayed the badass in that story in my mind for a long time. 
 
He was never a huge comic but he was The Belz.
 
When I got to LA in the mid-eighties and took the job as a doorman at The Comedy Store I was amazed and thrilled to find out that Richard was a regular there and doing spots. The Belz was around. I remember meeting him in the kitchen of the Store and just feeling beside myself. It was fucking Richard Belzer. The guy from that article. The myth. 
 
I would see him do sets all the time and I got to know him. I was busy losing my mind on cocaine but he understood. He never judged. He was one of the nicest guys I’ve met in this business. He kind of looked out for me a bit. He would drive up in his Eldorado and always wore a suit. Class act. We would get high in the back and talk and he’d tell stories sometimes. Because of that story I read when I was a kid I always felt like he somehow was part of the reason I did comedy. 
 
I didn’t watch Homicide or Law & Order so I don’t know him as Munch but I knew him as a sweet guy, a funny guy, a real mensch who I looked up to. 
 
We were in touch here and there over the years and I’m sorry we weren’t closer and I’m sorry he never did the show. 
 
I will remember Richard fondly and with love and respect. 
 
Today I talk to the formidable Michelle Yeoh about here amazing career and life. On Thursday I talk to the Daniels (Kwan and Scheinert) who directed Michelle in Everything Everywhere All at Once. Enjoyed both conversations immensely. 
 
Enjoy!
 
Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!
 
Love,
Maron

The Rearview.

Coming in for landing, Friends!
 
It’s been a long haul but the premiere of my HBO special, From Bleak to Dark, is the end of this story arc. I’m trying not to feel it as the crashing of a wave. I felt that creeping, empty sadness after it aired on Saturday. It’s normal. 
 
I underplayed the night it premiered a bit. Not on purpose but it seems I do that. I remember my very first television appearance. It was An Evening at the Improv. I had flown to LA. I didn’t rent a car. I stayed in Santa Monica near where it was being taped. I bought a shirt that day at Stussy which looked nothing like anything I would wear. I wore it. After the taping I took a bus back to my hotel with my girlfriend at the time. Show business. The glamor. 
 
The other night wasn’t the same. I was alone in a hotel. I didn’t know if I could get HBO. I did an IG live trying to find my special on the TV in my room. I laid there and watched it. When it was done I packed my bags and went to sleep. 
 
I knew the entire build up and the experience of doing it would fade fast in the rearview. I mean, I’m excited it’s out there but when you worked towards something on many different levels for a couple of years and now it’s done it does feel like a loss somehow. I know it is out there being found and now I can see how people react to it. But now what?
 
I want to thank all of you for supporting me along the way. All the listeners, audiences and the plague IG crew, the girlfriends on the couch. It was a group effort getting here. 
 
I had fun in NYC and somehow remained vegetarian, even vegan, as far as I know. I have a feeling there may have been some animal fat in something I ate. Ghee, perhaps. Instead of corned beef and sable I had knishes and baba ganoush. Brendan and I ate at Dirt Candy and it wasn’t just amazing vegan food, it was just amazing food like nothing I ever experienced. 
 
I did the tonight show in my new suit. It’s always fun talking to Fallon. He’s a good listener, engaged. He asked me if I wanted to play with The Roots going out to a commercial. I said, ‘absolutely.’ Before the show we decided on a key and I put my pick in my pocket. All I could think about the entire time I was talking was nailing that first lick. I had less than a minute to land the riff. I was told Quest would count us in but they were already kind playing lightly in A. I strapped in, looked at Quest, laid out the first riff and he just picked up the groove from me and off we went. The most amazing thing was I was locked in and attentive enough to see him call the change to the 4 and I was able to land on it. Thrilling. 
 
I’m excited to get home to the three dummies. 
 
Today I talk to Marc Summers about starting out as a magician and being standup at The Comedy Store and then hosting TV shows. Also, OCD, cancer, car accidents and Burt Reynolds. On Thursday Tim Blake Nelson is back to talk about his new novel City of Blows. We talk about other stuff as well. The book is great. Great talks. 
 
Enjoy!
 
Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!
 
Love,
Maron

Kraut Time.

Brining, People!
 
It takes me a long time to come around to trying things. I literally just recently took the low E string off my Les Paul Jr. and tuned it to an open G like Keef! I learned how to play two Rolling Stones tunes and they sound exactly correct. It’s wild. 
 
So, in the spirit of trying new things I should’ve done long ago, I ordered a ceramic crock. A kraut crock. I’m a cabbage addict. I don’t really know why, but I eat a lot of cabbage. I make curtido and red cabbage slaw almost weekly. So, now, it’s Kraut Time. I ordered weights and a lid and I have a few recipes. I am going to ferment. My gut garden is going to be perfect. Maybe it’s a change of life and passions. A new business. We’ll see. There’s probably already a ‘Kraut Guy’ somewhere. I’ll have to figure out a catchy name. ‘Gut Gardener.’
 
I’m still doing the vegan thing. Today is two weeks. Again, I am not committing to a lifestyle. I am conducting an experiment. I want to see the true effect diet has on my cholesterol verses genetics. I wouldn’t mind not being on a statin. 
 
There have been some odd side effects of not eating meat. I believe I am closer to my cats. I know, cats are meat eating animals. That is how they are wired. So, we feed them mush and pellets made of god knows what parts of what animals. It’s fine for them. Cats have no conscience. That is not the point. The point is, because I am not unnecessarily eating animals, I feel close to them as animals. Maybe I’m crazy but I think all the animals know that I am not eating them. The birds in my yard. The squirrels. The rabbit. I think we have a deeper understanding of each other and we are all pretty scared of coyotes. 
 
I’ve started creatine loading. I’m not even sure what that means. I know I’m taking it. My trainer lady suggested it. She said it might help my joint pain. I did some reading. I think it might make me ripped and it’s about fucking time. Finally, at 59, I’m going to be cut. Maybe I’ll start competing in whatever competition that old ripped men compete in. Maybe I can become a pro wrestler. The Gut Gardner. It’s all going to work out. 
 
So, I’m doing a lot of comedy. New comedy. I guess that’s what I do. If everything goes as planned I will be on The Tonight Show this Friday. I’ll also be doing a moderated talk with Josh Friedman at MoMA for the 92nd Street Y. You can get tickets at wtfpod.com/tour.
 
Today I have a surprising talk with Wayne Brady. You have no idea who he is, even if you think you do. On Thursday, we're airing a condensed version of the whole ‘Wrestling with Marc’ series. Good time. 
 
Enjoy!
 
Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!
 
Love,
Maron