Wednesday, February 19, 2014
Noted auteur Bobcat Goldthwait's ong-awaited spring project will be a documentary about his longtime pal, me!
In just three days Goldthwait will bring a team of big-time Hollywood pros to the Northeast to begin grilling my friends and/or associates about my conduct and whereabouts over the past several decades.
I'm truly flattered and humbled to have such a talented artist focus his great skills on me and my life. I'm also anticipating having a million laughs doing this thing.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go shop for berets and ascots.
Wednesday, February 19, 2014
For over two years I've resisted reading Imaginary Runner, Bill Morrissey's second and final novel. I'd received a copy at his memorial show in late 2011 and wanted to read it the second I got it but knew when I finished it, I'd be done with the last grand project of his life. I wasn't ready to get to the back cover of the book because its end seemed to me a natural boundary, the final time Bill would speak to me in words that he ingeniously sequenced and with which I was still unfamiliar.
The other day I could wait no longer, picked it up and read until his last tale was told. It was pure Bill: compelling, delightful, sly, witty and warm.
Relatively early in the novel he stopped me cold with a passage describing the thoughts of the protagonist, Bruno Bates, as he lay stricken with food poisoning in a mediocre Nebraska motel room. Listen:
Lying on his side he imagined dying in that room and being discovered by a chambermaid, angry she'd been kept at work too long. Names of famous people who'd died in hotel rooms came to him and he reasoned the more time you spent on the road, the greater your chances of dying in a motel."
By the time the limited edition of his lovely last effort was published, Bill's name was added to that lonely famous person list. I hope the chambermaid was not angry. I'd like to think Bill's presence even, and especially, in death was more than enough to bring respect from any honest, hard-working person who came upon his earthly remains.
I hope so but if not, it was just one last bump in a road he ran with great imagination, boundless humanity and, at times, too much prescient insight for his own good.
Now I really miss you, pal.
-- Barry Crimmins
Until our prayers are answered
Tuesday, January 21, 2014
... this remains required rereading
At long last, WTF!
Monday, January 20, 2014
Last June my friend, white-hot comic Marc Maron, came to Buffalo to astonish the Helium Comedy Club with his brilliant stream-of-consciousness, comedy tightrope act.
While he was in town, I took a drive up there and really enjoyed watching him courageously lay open his soul on the stage, figuring himself out live and in person He's brainy unflinching, and gutsy. And funny as hell.
While in Buffalo, we finally recorded an episode of his outstanding WTF podcast. He's a genius interviewer and created an opportunity for me to spend the better part of the hour talking about things I had no plans to discuss. The response has been beyond gratifying. I can't thank Marc enough. If you're among the few who haven't become regular listeners to his podcast, you can find it here.
In other news....
Sorry for my long absence. My leg was broken in a car accident in October. I'm just about OK. If you really want to keep up with me ,I tweet pretty regularly on Twitter @crimmins and/or you can friend or follow"Barry Crimmins" on Facebook.
Many big things coming this year and I mean BIG. Without question the Maron podcast contributed mightily to this major uptick in my career. So thanks again and very much, Marc.
As things develop, I'll keep you posted here but you'll probably learn what's happening sooner on the dreaded social media. Happy New Year.
Love to all, Barry