A deep dive into emotional storytelling, vulnerability, and how music becomes the language of feeling.
This episode explores the intersection of emotional expression, creative authenticity, and the power of musical communication. Ben shares personal stories about how music has helped him process complex emotions and connect with others on a deeper level.
Keywords: emotional expression, musical communication, vulnerability in art, creative authenticity, emotional storytelling, music therapy
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Full Transcript:
Episode 4: Emotion YY and Me
(Opening motif – plucked AE-AE medium, pause, GD-GD-GD-GD…GD! soft cresc to loud, bartok snap.)
(YY’s voice): “Hi, Ben! Whatcha doin’?” [pause] Hmm? Oh. Just reading.
(YY’s voice): “Ah. …Whatcha readin’?” [pause] It’s… complicated.
(YY’s voice): “Huh?” I’ve got a lot of thinking to do.
(YY’s voice): “About what?” [pause] I’m not sure I’m ready to talk about it.
(YY’s voice): “Okay… but um, I’m here.” Thanks.
(Opening phrase of song on violin, which is an original I composed that is deeply reflective and dissonant: CC#G#EEb-B-D—-C——–. Violin stops)
I often play something like this to help me when I’m feeling stuck. It helps me calm down. Focus. I’m not sure YY would understand this one. Or maybe… I’m just afraid he’ll take it too lightly. Either way, I’m working through it alone. It’s… really emotionally charged for me.
When I was in 3rd grade, I bought a composition notebook. Black binding, with white inkbots across the front and back. 200 pages of lined paper, double sided. I can still remember the smell. The sound of flipping through. Skimming the entries. The satisfying scratch of a Number 2 pencil.
At school, our teacher gave us a simple task. Start a journal. Write an entry a few times a week. Capture my 8-year-old thoughts. Learn to write. Find my voice.
I loved writing in that composition notebook. Every journal entry began with the date and time. Sometimes, I would write about bus rides. Other times, I would vent about my siblings. On occasion, I said something insightful. Realized years later.
By the time I graduated high school I had filled up 29 notebooks. Hundreds, maybe thousands of journal entries. Comics of stuffed animals. A trove of thoughts and feelings captured in each moment.
My wife and I started a journal together. I have it on my lap right now. Brown cover, the word “JOURNAL” in all caps.
We wrote in it periodically. Thoughts, feelings, inspiration. I predicted the gender of each child. Timestamped. A lucky streak.
She still writes a family letter every week.
I, on the other hand…
It wasn’t for lack of trying. I tried to start an online blog. Several times, actually. I wrote as myself. Wrote from the perspective of YY.
But the problem was I couldn’t think of much to write. Who wants to hear about my life? What do I have to say that hasn’t already been said by other dads thousands of times? What makes me unique?
What’s the point?
Fast forward to June 2025. Time to try again. For real, this time. Bought a new composition notebook. A cover for my iPad mini, actually. Impulse buy. Looked nice. It… seemed to make sense. To me. To my family, on the surface.
So… familiar.
This time, things would be different. I would write to my kids. Tell them about my life. Embed lessons to uncover. When they’re ready.
How… do I write about myself? It’s been so long. I’ve forgotten how.
Dusty case. Hair a little worn. Unraveling, loose strings.
Just start. Write a few words. Something. Anything.
Practice.
This hurts.
It’s okay. Start slow. Same thing I tell my kids when they’re struggling. Funny how so much of what I’ve said to them reflects right back at me.
And you know what? I think it’s working. Reading back what I’m writing I can hear my voice. A little disorganized. Meandering…
I need to speed this up. Time is king. My wife is an excellent writer. Her sense of tone, sharpened by thousands of books. Maybe she can help.
I don’t want to bother her. This burden is mine. Alone.
I need to find a power tool. Something I can train with. No external dependencies.
What about… AI?
Can you… help me improve my writing skills? In isolation? Read my drafts? Tinker… a little? Teach me?
Whoa. That was fast. So much output. A skeletal frame. Details carefully arranged. Clean. So clean.
Too clean. What did you do to my voice? Where’s the expression? The emotion? It was there… before.
I just need to practice more. It’s like everything else, right? Put in the time. Ensure proper technique. I’ve done this a million times before. Different domain, but…
It’s the same thing, right?
Right?
What… time is it? Shoot, I’m late. Dinner’s already served.
“Dad… where are you?”
“Sorry. Didn’t know you were still working.”
I just need a few more minutes. Got to get this draft right. Thread the needle. (slight pause) It’s getting more complicated. But the story deserves it. The story…
Did I just call it… “The story”?
I’m writing this for my kids. They won’t hear it now. It’s for their future. That’s why I need to use AI to upgrade my voice. Faster. Better.
To… upgrade my voice? Ben. Are you hearing yourself?
I was… writing to my kids. In the future. Not now. And I forgot.
They’re here. Now. And they need me.
Right now.
(Violin plays the full piece)
The price of AI — especially on emotions — can be steep. Merciless. And the most dangerous part–
You didn’t see it coming. And you have to pay.
You know what— I do need YY for this one. Hang on.
(YY’s voice) “Hi, Ben!”
Thanks for coming back. Sorry about earlier.
(YY’s voice) (without skipping a beat) “No problem! What’s up?”
So… you know how I’ve been really busy? Building something new?
(YY’s voice) “I mean, YEAH.”
I… forgot to pay attention to my family.
(YY’s voice) “Yeah, I know.”
Was that the right thing to do?
(YY’s voice) (lightbulb flicking on) “Ohhh. That’s what this is about?”
It is.
(YY’s voice) “Okay, so… you’ve been distracted, and… and…”
(YY’s voice) “Do you miss your kids?”
Yeah.
“Do they… want your attention?”
They do.
(YY’s voice) “Does that… matter to you?”
It does.
(YY’s voice, softer) “…What are you going to do?”
I just need a little more time. To think.
[motif]