If we do what we do because we love it, does that predicate that somebody else will love it also? Will the love we feel for what we do be enough of a thing for someone else to love, even if what we’re doing is not? The example that comes to mind is Steve Carell’s character in Dinner for Schmucks. His passion for creating dioramas featuring taxidermied mice is creepy and odd, but his love for his characters and their “lives” is enough to make it endearing and sweet. It makes you sad to see him sweep all his hard work into the trash, not because we care about the mice or their remains, but because we know how much effort and care he put into making them what they are in their afterlife. I hope my music can be at least as endearing as a bunch of dead mice.
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Music for Schmucks
What is less than a flash in a pan? A spark? In this metaphor, what causes the flash? Is it a grease fire? Is it oxygen suddenly being allowed into an enclosed space which has burned away its available store of it? In either of these scenarios, where would a spark come from? Maybe I’m delving too deeply into the logistics of the metaphor. Let’s say a spark is a significant step down from the flash. What would be smaller than the spark? What would be the next step down? A pop? A sizzle? Even that seems too much to describe what I’m thinking of, considering the size of the pan. Maybe a little bit of a hiss. The things I hope would make a permanent dent in the pan create little more than a noticeable change in the temperature for a brief second. If that.