I'm back in Los Angeles after a one day trip to San Francisco, where I headlined at the Punchline for two shows. That is probably the best comedy club in the country. The crowds are up for it and they're smart. I had a great time and was able to flesh out a lot of new material. Then I flew back into Burbank this afternoon and tonight it's back to the Hollywood Improv. Monday I resume work on the pilot for Warner Brothers. Fuck the Redsox.

While I certainly enjoy hopping around the West Coast and working the clubs, I am missing the living fucking shit out of my wife and child. I have been broadsided by incredible heartbreak. I had no idea how horrible it is to be away from a baby that you are used to being around every day. I think of her constantly and live in a constant state of anxiety, certain that every second that goes by erases me from her memory.

I was telling this to my friend and fellow comedian Marc Maron and he said "that's great, Louie. That's really great." I failed to see how my feeling terrible could be considered great, so he explained "Well, it shows that you really bonded with your kid and I think all of us our sort of relieved to see that happen. I mean, it could have gone either way. Who knew if you were going to... show up for this thing." I laughed, stunned into remembering what kind of person I was before this baby came. I can't see fitting into the same skin now, but as I focus my memory on that past, of course anyone who hung out with me at that time would have maybe even winced when told that Alix was pregnant. They would congratulate me with smiles pasted on, then murmur to a common friend "Is Louie going to... show up for this?" and the friend would shake their head and say "I don't know, man."

The image makes me laugh too. the idea that I might not "show up for it". Like the moment the baby was born, the doctors and my wife would look around and find me gone. I spend the rest of my life on the road like Al Pacino in "Scarecrow" carrying around a puppy lamp in a battered gift box and sleeping under bridges. I can completely see why someone could have seen it going that way. And from where I stand now, it was a sharp glimpse at my past that allowed me to measure how far and in what directions I've gone since then. I'm not going to be self rightous and say that I'm a better person than I was. I'll just say I'm standing in a spot light years from where I did then, in some respects.

In other respects, I'm exactly the same idiot I ever was and nothing reminds me of that more than when I travel alone, without my wife and partner. For example, I woke up today at the REX hotel in San Francisco (nice hotel). I was booked on the 3pm flight back to Burbank, but I decided to switch to the 4pm, so that I'd have time to get something to eat in good old San Francisco. So there I am, on the corner of Sansome and Powell (I think) trying to decide where to eat. There's a place across the street, so I go over there and read the menu in the window. It looks okay but inside it's so touristy. So I walk for half a block and find a simple looking place with realer looking people inside. But all they have is watery coffee and I'm thinking I need an espresso. So I go back to the corner and re-read the menu in the window. I decide to go to the first place and walk inside, but there are no tables and I don't want to wait, so I go back outside. Up the street a bit is another espresso-y looking joint so I walk there and read the menu. They're serving lunch now, though, and I feel like breakfast, even though it's late afternoon already. Then I think that the realer looking place is probably serving breakfast all day so I go back there, but as I touch the door I remember the coffee again and go back to the corner. Then I go back to place #1 again and look to see about tables. There are none but the counter has a seat empty. Okay, I go inside, and sit down at the counter. A friendly waitress comes over and asks if I want coffee. I ask her for a menu and she says "Okay, but I can't take your food order. Only drinks. You have to walk over there and get your food and bring it back." ... "Okay." I said, and picked up my shit and left. I just didn't want to deal with it. Now I'm standing on the corner again, trying to decide between the three places. I'm sweating and panicking and time is melting away. At one point, I literally was walking in a circle, a few steps toward one place, change my mind, a few steps the other , then back, then the third way, jesus fucking christ. Then I looked at my watch. Time to get to the airport. I got in a cab and left town hungry and dizzy, my brain swelling from caffein deficiency. Later, at the airport, I would make up for this with chocolate.

Before I was married, I spent EVERY day of my life this way. My wife stabalized me, got me to the point where, when I'm home, I cook her healthy meals all the time, but all it takes is a few days away from her and I'm fucked again. It's depressing to know that it lurks so close beneath the surface.