Marc Maron: More Later

I don't feel great.

It's not--like, I think it's gonna be fine,

but I just-- like, I feel bloated

and gassy a little,

maybe a little feverish.

Is this for anybody?

Mm-hmm.

Like, here's what I'll do.

I'm just gonna have the healthy--

just have a healthy salad.

What am I doing, dude?

We got to start-- we're starting the show

in, like, fucking...

This is meat-lover's?

Oh, it's so dense.

That's a veggie?

You kind of want--

I don't have to eat the whole thing.

Jesus fuck, why am I eating this?

What am I doing?

Thing is, like,

I could have eaten between shows.

But in my mind, it's like, not gonna be hot.

You know what I mean?

It's gonna be shit.

So now I'm eating before the first show.

I'm eating this.

I think we just have to...

take a second and understand what's going on here.

This isn't just--this is not just, like, a party.

Got to do a fucking stand-up special.

It's like a job.

What are these notes?

Will you talk to me about what's here?

- This is the leftover of a mistake.

Look, the notes are--

it's just evolving, you know--

like, the different processes

of me, you know, putting things together.

I don't even think--

I think this is maybe a song I'm writing.

But these are the original post-its of things

that were--like, these I did a lot time ago.

And sometimes when I look at all this stuff,

the actual evolution of things,

like this stuff--

like, this is the old hour,

so I wanted to sort of check.

Oh, a lot of this stuff, I didn't do.

So this is sort of the act, give or take.

And these are the callbacks here.

I'm not doing that one.

Oh, no, these are stories.

Mustang's out.

Captain Billy, Jesus.

MRI is out, ice cream is in.

Time Warner is out.

MRI's pretty good, but, meh...

People like callbacks.

And I thought, why not do that?

Why not show that I have--

that I'm professional enough to do that,

to structure something?

I can't say it's gonna fucking work, necessarily.

But I think I figured out a way to end it.

Like, I'm working on this ending.

See, that's who I am.

It's like, I'm taping this special tonight,

and I think I've got the ending,

but I'm not sure.

And I'm not even fucking kidding.

This is crazy.

Like, you would think the best way to go into it is,

like, have it all, like, "I'm set, man.

I know exactly the hour."

What's up?

Five?

It is different when there's cameras all around.

But, like, you just can't think about it like that

necessarily, right?

Am I good?

My nose bleeding?

No bats in the cave.

All right.

I get hung up on shit, man.

Like, I start feeling like I have a snot in there,

and I'm trying to do my show,

but all I'm thinking about is this snot in my nose.

All right, he's gonna close with this.

Oh, my god.

- How was it? - Awesome.

- They're fucking unbelievable.

Really?

Yeah, it's your crowd.

emcee: Chicago, are you ready?

Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Marc Maron!

Thank you.

Thank you.

Holy shit.

All right.

Whoo!

Yeah, whoo!

That was a properly placed "whoo."

No out-of-context "whoo"s.

I do not indulge "whoo"s that happen in weird places.

- Trying to keep it under control.

- You keep the "whoo" under control.

I just wanted it to be weird right when I came out,

and it's happening.

I was backstage, I'm like,

how do I really want to open this thing?

Why don't you just attack a woman for no reason

about something she didn't even really do?

That'd be a nice way to start your big night.

I don't know what to do sometimes.

I just--I can't handle the love and respect from you people.

So make no mistake, I'm hating myself inside.

They brought pizza backstage, Chicago pizza.

I'm not gonna mention any names,

'cause I don't want to start any shit.

But it was one of them.

That's all you're getting.

And, of course, like, I got to do this show.

I got to be up here and perform to the best of my ability.

And I thought to myself, why not not have

two slices of deep dish pizza?

Why not not do that?

That voice was not honored within me.

And now I have two slices of that pizza in my stomach,

which I will blame if this goes badly.

That's how I plan.

"That didn't go well-- fuckin' pizza."

Got a plan.

I've got an inner blogger that reviews my show

as it's in progress.

"Maron started off kind of awkward,

"making notice of the woman who went, 'Whoo!'

"Then he just started talking about pizza for no reason,

"like he's got all day up there.

"I don't know how this is gonna go tonight.

"Clearly he doesn't have a plan.

"He's already brought me into it.

More later."

I don't know.

Like, I'm old.

I'm not gonna complain about being old,

but I'm starting to realize that--like, I'm 51.

I'm a 51-year-old man, twice divorced.

I have no children.

And I live with two cats.

And it's fucking amazing.

That's right.

That's right.

I'm winning.

I'm the winner.

For years, I used to think, like,

why can't I manage a relationship?

Why can't I have a marriage?

Why don't I have a normal life of any kind?

Why can't I just be a regular person?

But now I'm starting to think,

like, I think I dodged a few bullets.

I think I'm starting to realize that.

And all it takes is one conversation

with a friend of mine that went the other way.

He's got the wife and the kids and everything else.

One conversation for me to know that I'm okay.

Have you ever had that conversation

where you don't know if the guy is talking to you

or trying to convince himself

that he's made the right decisions with his life?

It takes nothing to provoke these conversations.

I could not have seen the guy in, like, three years,

and I'd be like, "Hey, man, how you doing?

It's been a while. How are the kids?"

"It's fucking hard right now, man.

"It's bad, it's bad.

"I can't handle it.

"I want them out of the house,

"but they're 7 and 4,

"and that's just not the right way to be thinking.

"But I love them a lot.

"They're great kids.

"I but I just-- it's fucking awful.

"It's awful.

"One of them's smart.

"The other one seems to have a thing with his hands.

"He's okay.

"But I just want out, man.

"I want out.

But I love 'em, I love 'em a lot."

That's sort of a confusing sort of message you're giving me.

Is everything okay with your wife?

"Can't look her in the eye at all.

"Can't even maintain eye contact with her.

"Most of the time, I want her dead,

"or I want to be dead.

"It's just--it's fucking awful.

"But I'm blessed.

"I mean, I'm really blessed,