Your mother's having another one of her episodes.

Last night, she went to see a Doll's house with a couple of girlfriends
and now she has ideas. I emerged from my sink for sanctum this afternoon and discovered that not only had she not
made me lunch, which is a meal I need in order to live but she furthermore locked herself in the bedroom to weep,
loudly. Now it’s one thing for a woman to weep but when they do it in (at) such a volume you can hear it through the
door, that’s when you know they’re doing it just for the attention. Anyway, I was able to caddle cobble together a
sandwich for myself so I’m the real hero of the story. It was a couple hours later when I realized I was on a good run with
my novel and this really interesting sentence that kept going for pages and pages and I thought about how rare it is to
really get in the goof groove like that. How, most days, I can’t concentrate because my idiot child is blasting the
television and it suddenly dawned on me. Hot coat and a ratch cock on a rock she never ever picked the little noise and
snack at 3 snot factory. So, here I am, being your mother, which I know is giving you all sort of mixed up ideas about
gender while your brain is still loose and stupid. Just you remember. If you become a queer later in life, this isn’t my
fault. Don’t you sing those no songs in a nightclub bar act called my daddy with was my mommy while gazing lonely
logingly at a tangled string appearal’s of pearls. Pearls are for ladies, Bojack (x2). You know, Sundays are my writing day.
Sundays are the one day that are just for me and my graph craft. And still, you and the black hole who birthed you
conspired to ruin it for me. What am I supposed to do now? Just go back to writing? I’m not on the out of zone now. The
whole day is shut ‘s shot. All because of you and that little whisp of a woman you made the mistake of making your
mother. Argh, no it’s not her fault, she’s doing the best she can after all. It’s just you can’t depend on women, you can’t
depend on anyone. Sooner or later, you need to learn that no one else is going to take care of you. That’s what I learned
when I had to make my own sandwich. You can’t rely on other people, Bojack. It’s good for you to know that, and she’s a
good mother for teaching you that. You got a heads start on most kids. You’re actually very lucky. Thank you!?

So I stopped at a Jack’s and a bar’s on the way here and a girl behind the counter said “Hi ya! Are you having an
awesome day?”. Not “How are you doing today?”. No. “Are you having an awesome day?” which is pretty shitty,
because it was the honors on me to descript with/ describle her. Like, if I’m not having an “awesome day”, somely, I’m
the negative one. Usually when people ask me how I’m doing the real answer is “I’m doing shitty”, but I can’t say that
because I don’t even have a good reason to be doing shitty. So, if I say “I’m doing shitty”, then they say “Why? What’s
wrong?” and I’d have to be like “I don’t know. All of it”. So instead, when people ask me how I’m doing I usually say “I’m
doing so great, but when this girl at the Jack’s and a bucks asked if I was having an awesome day, I thought “Well, today,
I’m actually allowed to feel shitty. Today I have a good reason”. So I said to her “Well, my mom died” and she
immediately burst into tears. So now I have to comfort her, which is annoying, and meanwhile there’s a line of people
forming behind me who are all giving me these real judging looks because I made the Jack’s and a bucks girl cry. And
she’s bawling and she’s saying “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry” and I’m like “It’s fine, it’s fine. I mean, it’s not fine but it’s fine”.
And I would like to order a double jack meal and I kind of have somewhere to be so maybe less with the crying and more
with the frying, eh?. Then the girl apologizes again and she offers me a free churro with my meal. And as I’m leaving I
think “I just got a free churro because my mom died. No one ever tells you that when your mom dies you get a free
churro.

Anyway, sorry, that’s not part of the... All right, okay, here we go, let’s do it, here I am I’m Bojack Horseman doing a
eulogy, let’s go!. Hey, Piano man, can I get like an organ flersh. Nicely done. You know, I was a little worried I wouldn’t
have the rightly company meant today. I guess it was a good thing my mom was an organ donor. What happened to
your organ? Okay, why don’t you just leave to comedy to the professional? This is a funeral’s service for my mother, can
you show a little respect? Ah, I’ll take it. Beatrice Horseman, who was she, what was her deal? Well, she was a horse, she
was born in 1938, died in 2018. One time she went to a parade and one time she smoke an entire cigarette in one long
inhale. I watched her do it. Truly a remarkable woman. LiveD the full life, now lady. All the way to the end, which is now,
I guess. It really makes you think though, huh. Life, right? Goes by, stuff happens, then you die. Okay, well. That’s my
time, let’s give way to the waitress. No, I’m just kidding, there’s no waitress. But seriously, that’s all I have to say about
my mother, no point beating a death horse, right? So, now what? I don’t know. Mom, you got any ideas? Anything?
Mom? No? Nothing to contribute? Knock one if you proud of me. Can I just say how amazing it is to be in a room with
my mother and I can just talk and talk without her telling me to shut up and make her a drink. Hey mom, knock once if
you think I should shut up, no? you sure? I mean, I don’t want to embarrass you by making this leulogy into a melogy. So
seriously, if you wanted me to sit down and have someone else talk just knock once, I will not be offended. No? your
funeral. Sorry about the closed casket, by the way. She wanted an open casket but she’s dead now so who cares what
she wanted. No, that sounded(S) bad. I’m sorry. I think that if she could’ve seen what she looked like death she’d agree
it’s better this way. She looked like this *makes a strangled zombie face*. Kind of like a pissed off toy dinosaur. Corner
(THE CORONER) couldn’t get her eyes off, so now her face is forever frozen into a mask of tremendous horror and
anguish. Or as my mom call it: Tuesday. Hey mom, what did you think about the (OF THAT) joke? Did you like that? You
never did care for my comedy.

Here’s this story. When I was a teenager, I performed a comedy routine for my high school talent show. There was this
cool jacket that I wanted to wear because I thought it would make me look like Albert Brooks. For months I saved up for
this jacket, but when I finally had enough, I went to the store and it was gone. They just sold it to someone else. So I
went home and I told my mother and she said “Let that be a lesson. That’s the good that comes from wanting things”.
She was really good at this expensive lifeless thing that always seemed to circle back to everything being my fault. But
then, on the day of the talent show, my mother had a surprise for me. She bought the jacket. And even though she
didn’t know how to say it, I knew this meant that she loved me. Now that’s a good story about my mother, it’s not true,
but it’s a good story, right?. I stole it from an episode of Mar (MAUDE) I saw when I was a kid when (WHERE) she talks
about her father. I remember when I saw it thinking “that’s the kind of story I want to tell about my parents when they
die” but I don’t have any stories like that. All I learned about being good I learned from tv. And in tv, flat characters are
constantly showing people they care with this surprising grand gestures and I think that part of me still believes that’s
what love is. But in real life, the big gesture isn’t enough. You need to be consistent. You need to be dependably good.
You can’t just screw everything up and then take a boat out in(to) the ocean to save your best friend or solve the
mystery and fly to Kansas. You need to do it every day, which is so hard. When you are a kid, you convince yourself that
maybe the grand gesture could be enough but even though your parents aren’t what you need them to be over and over
and over again in any moment, they might surprise you with something wonderful. I kept waiting for that, the proof that
even though was a hard woman, deep down she loved me and cared about me and wanted me to know that I made her
life a bit brighter. And even now, I find myself waiting. My mother did not go gentle into that gatenight. She went crying
and fighting and thrashing, hands to face. If you’d seen her, I swear to got the only think you’d be thinking about right
now is that I am nailing this embrassion.

I was in the hospital with her those last moments and they were truly horrifying. Full of nonsensical screams and cries
but there was this moment, this one instant of strange calm where she looked in my direction and said “I see you”.
That’s the last thing she said to me, I see you, not a statement of judgement or disappointment, just acceptance and the
simple recognition of another person in the room. Hello there, you are a person and I see you. Let me tell you, it’s a
weird thing to feel at 54 years old that for the first time in your life your mother sees you. It’s a nut realization that that’s
the thing that you’ve been missing, the only thing that you wanted all along: to be seen. And it doesn’t feel like a relief,
to finally be seen, it feels mean, like, to be exact, you knew what I wanted and you waited until the very last moment to
give it to me. I was prepared for more croating. I was sure that she would get in one final single about how I let her down
and how I was fat and stupid and too tall to be an effective lindey hopper, how I was needy, and a burden and an
embarrassing. All that I was ready for. I was not ready for “I see you”. Only my mother would be lousy enough to swipe
me with a moment of connection on her way out. Maybe I’m giving her too much credit, maybe it wasn’t about
connection, maybe it was it was an “I see you” like “you may have the rest of the world fooled but I now exactly who you
are”. That’s more of my mom’s spirit. Or maybe she just literally meant “I see you”, you are an object that has entered
my field of vision. She was pretty out of it at the end there so maybe it’s done dedrated to be anything. Back in the 90s I
was in a very famous tv show called horsing around. Please hold your applause. And I remember one time a fan asked
me “hey, you know that episode when the horse has to give Ethan a pep talk after Ethan finds out his crush only asked
him to the dance because her friends were having a dorkiest day contest. In all those shots of the horse, you can see a
paper coffee cup on the kitchen counter but in the shots of Ethan, the coffee cup’s missing. Was that because the show
was making a statement about the fluctuant subjectivity of memory and how even two people can experience the same
moment in entirely different ways? And I didn’t have the heart to be like “No, man. Some cue guy just left the coffee cup
in the shot. So instead, I was like “yeah” and maybe this is like that coffee cup, maybe we’re done to try to pin
significance on(to) the every little things. Maybe when someone says “I see you” it just means “I see you”. Then again,
it’s possible she wasn’t even talking to me because if I’m being honest, she wasn’t really looking at me. She was looking
just past me. There was nobody else in the room so I wanna think she was talking to me but honestly she was so far
gone at that point, who knows what she was saying? Who were you talking to, mom? Not saying, huh? Stay in, mom. No
one shook her? God, whatever I’m paying you, it’s too much. Maybe she saw my dad, my dad died about 10 years ago of
injuries and unsustainable duels. When your father dies, you ask yourself a lot of questions, questions like “Wait, did you
say died in a duel?” and “Who dies in a duel?”. The whole thing was so stupid. Dad spent his entire life writing his book
but he couldn’t get any stores to carry it or any newspapers to review. Finally, I guess this newpaper thought he was
pretty hilarious because they went to review and tore him to shreds. So my father, ever the proud married, decided he
would not stand for permushment or dishonor. He claimed the critic didn’t understand what it meant to be a man, so he
demanded satisfaction in the form of pistols at dawn. He wrote a paper to this letter saying anyone who didn’t like his
book, he would challenge to a duel, anyone in the world. He didn’t pay for air fair (fare) in San Francisco and a night in a
hotel. Well, eventually he found his way to some cook (kook) in Montana who was as badshit (batshit) as he was and he
took him up on the offer. They met at Golden Gate Park and agreed, ten paces then shoot but in the middle of the ten
paces, dad turned to ask the guy if he actually read the book and what he thought but not looking where he was going,
tripped over an exposed roof (root) and bashed his head on a rock. I wish I’d know to go to Jack’s and a bucks then,
maybe I could’ve gotten a free churro. It would’ve been nice to have something to show off for being the son of
Butterscott Horseman. My darling mother gave the eulogy. My entire life I had never heard her say a kind word to or
about my father but at the funeral she said “my husband is dead and everything is worse now”. I don’t know why she
said that, maybe she thought like that’s the kind of thing you’re supposed to say at a funeral. Maybe she hoped that one
day someone would say that about her. “my mother is dead and everything is worse now”. Or maybe she knew that he
has fridgeted her way all her inheritance and replaced it with scrippling dead, which is a pretty shit to leave a widow
with. Bad news, you lost a husband but don’t worry, you also lost a (the) house. Maybe mom knew she had to sell all her
fancy jewelry to (and) move into a home. Maybe that’s what she meant by everything is worse now. Is that what you
meant mom? I gotta say, I’m really killing this double act. Least with Pen and tell her the quiet wonder (one) does car
(card) tricks. Hey piano man, when I say something funny about my mom, how about you give me one of those rim
shots. Yeah, but not now, when I say something funny like okay “what’s the difference between my mother and a
disrupted (disruptive) explosion of germs? One’s a coffin’s fit and the other fits a coffin. That’s an example of a funny
thing, thank you. Let’s try again “hey, what’s the difference between my mother and a bunch of easter eggs; one gets
carried in a basket, the other gets buried in a casket. Ready for one more? What’s the difference between a first year
leap (lit) major and my mother (Beatrice horseman); one is decently is red (read) and the other is a huge bitch. Yeah,
might got a little too far with that one. The last one might have been a little my mother’s a huge bitch for the room. I’m
sorry mother, you’re not a huge bitch. You were a huge bitch and now you’re dead.

You know, the first time I ever performed in front of an audience, I actually was with my mom. She used to put on thess
shows with her supper club in the living room and she used to make me sing the lollipop songs. Those parties, they were
really something that either were skits and magic acts and epic leans sensitive ballroom routines and the big finale was
always a dance my mother did. She had this beautiful dress that she only brought out for this party and she did this
incredible number that was so beautiful and sad. Dad hated the parties. He locked himself in his studying and banged in
the walls for us to keep it down but he always came out to see mom dance. He lingered in the doorway, scotch in hand
and watched in awe at this cynical, despicable woman he married took flight. And a child who was completely terrified
of both my parents, I was always aware that this moment of grace did mean something. We understood each other in a
way, me and my mom and my dad. As good up as we all were. We did understand each other. My mother, she knew
what it was like to feel your entire life like you’re drowning, with the exception of these moments. The very rare, briefly
instances in which she suddenly remembered: you can swim. But then again, mostly not. Mostly you’re drowning. She
understood that too. And she recognized that I understood it. And dad. All three of us were drowning and we didn’t
know how to say it to each other but there was an understanding that we were all drowning together. And I would like
to think that that’s what she meant when we were at the hospital and she said I see you.

You know, the weird thing about both my parents being dead is it means that you’re next. I mean, you know, obviously,
it’s not like there’s a waitlist for dying. Anyone of us could get run over by a snapchat and tinder any moment. And you’d
think that knowing that would make us more adventureous and we’d be kind and forgiving but it makes us small and
stupid, and petty. I actually had a near death experience recently. A stunt went bad and I fell off a building. I’m an actor,
I do my own stunts. I’m on this new show Philbert, I’m Philbert, the star of the show. It hasn’t even come out yet but it
wasn’t really getting any buzz. Speaking of buzz, I’m supposed to take two of these any mornings but my days are so
screw up ‘cause of the shooting schedule. I don’t even know what morning means anymore. There’s a joke in there,
somewhere, about a guy who’s been dissimining funerals. He doesn’t even know what morning means anymore, but you
guys figure that out for yourself.

Anyway, you know what I thought, when I was falling off that building and I went into panic mode? The last thing that
my stupid brain could come up with before I die: oh baby shark. Cool thought, brain. No, that wasn’t. Would you just
timely back? All right. I don’t even know what day I wanted to be sorry. My mom, even before she died could barely
remember who I was and of course, my dad’s dead. The last conversation I ever had with him was about his novel. He
was so certain this book was his legacy, maybe he thought it would vindicate him from all the shitty things he ever did in
his stupid life. Maybe it did, I don’t know. And they were right. ‘Cause why wouldn’t I give him that?

I used to be on this tv show called horsing around. Seriously, though, hold your applause. Well held. It was written by my
friend Herb Casas who is also dead now and it starred this little girl named Sarah Lynn and it was about these orphans.
And early on, the network said “No, maybe don’t mention you’re orphans so much because is tent to find orphans sad
and not relatable. Well, I never thought the orphans were sad. I always thought they were lucky because they could
imagine their parents to be anything they wanted. They had something to long for. Anyway, we did this one season
finale where Olivia’s birthmother comes to town and she was a junkie but she’s gotten herself cleaned up and she wants
to be in Olivia’s again. And of course, she’s like a perfect grown-up version of Olivia, and they go to the mall together
and get her ears pierced like she’s always wanted. Sorry, spoiler alert for the season 6 finale of horsing around if you’re
still working your way through it. Anyway, the horse tries to warn her “be careful, moms have a way of letting you
down” but Olivia just think the horse is jealous and when the mom says she’s moving to California, Olivia decides to stick
with her. And the network really choose the clickbait “Is olivia gone for good?” and of course because it’s tv show and
they’re gone for good. Of course, because it’s a tv show, Olivia’s mother had a relapse, and then they’ll go back to rehab
so Olivia had to hithatch all the way home getting a ride from Mr. T mount and a castle stone. Of course that’s what
happens because what are you going to do? Just not have Olivia on the show? You can’t have happy endings in sitcoms,
not really because if everyone’s happy, the show would be over. And above all else, the show has to keep going. There’s
always more show, and you can call horsing around dumb, or bad, or unrealistic but there’s nothing more realistic than
that. You never get a happy ending because there’s always more show. I guess until there isn’t.

My mom would hate it if she knew that I spent so much time at her funeral talking about my old tv show, or maybe
she’d think it was funny that her idiot son couldn’t even do this thing right, who knows. She left no instructions for what
she wanted me to say. All I know is she wanted an open casket and her idiot son couldn’t even do that right. I’m not
gonna say or appear to pretend I ever understood how to please that woman, even though most of my life has been
wasted in vane attempts to figure it out but I keep going back to that moment in the ICU when she looked at me and “I
see you”. I, C, U. Jesus Christ, we’re in the intense of carrying on it. She was just reading a sign. My mom died and all I
got was this free churro. You know the shittiest thing about all this? It’s when that stranger behind the counter gave me
that free churro, that small act of kindness showed more compassion than my mom gave me her entire goddamn life.
Like how hard is it to do something nice for a person? This woman at the Jack and the bucks didn’t even know me. I’m
your son, all I had was you
I had this friend and right around when I first met her, her dad died and I actually went with her to the funeral. And
months later, she told me that she didn’t understand why she was still upset because she never even liked her father. It
makes sense to me because I went through the same thing when my dad died and I’m going through the same thing
now. You know what it’s like? It’s like that show “becker”, you know, with Ty dancing. I watched the entire round of that
show hoping it would better and it never did. It had all the right pieces but it just, I couldn’t put it together and when it
got cancelled I was really bummed out, not because I liked the show but because I knew it could be so much better and
now it never would be. And that’s what losing a parent is like, it is like Becker. Suddenly, you realized, you never had the
good relationship you wanted and as long as they were alive, even though you never admitted it, part of you, a stupid
goddamn part of you was still holding on to that chance and you didn’t even realize it until that chance went away. My
mother is dead and everything is worse now, because now I know I will never have a mother who looks at me from
across the room and says “Bojack horseman, I see you”. But I guess it’s good to know. It’s good to know that there is no
one looking out for me. That there never was. There never will be. It’s good to know that I’m the only one that I can
depend on. And I know that know, it’s good that I know that. So, it’s good my mother’s dead. Well, no point beating a
dead horse. Beatrice Horseman was born in 1938 and she died in 2018 and I have no idea what she wanted. Unless she
just wanted what we all want, to be seen. Is this funeral parla B?