So half a year ago I was approached by somebody asking if I could score a mini-doc they were doing. And being as I don't generally take many risks these days, and being that I generally support aggressive creativity, and being that I've done fuckall but play nintendo with a thumb up my ass for the better part of a year, I figured what the hell.
So began the most frustrating creative project I've ever engaged in.
I've poured the better part of forty hours into this at this point, which is not much until you take into account that I work full time, and when I'm not working my wife is, and I have to take care of my kids. I have six hours a week of uninterrupted me-time. And I'm totally fine using it to make stuff. I am.
But the person making the doc doesn't like anything I've put forth, except for one toss-off theme I recorded haphazardly and hate. hate. hate. That's the one they're going with. It's an embarrassment. It makes me hate myself. Meantime, these snippets, the ones I'm actually pretty happy with, are littering the cutting room floor.
And I feel like I'm doing nothing with my life, and I make these stupid little songs that feel more and more like the artistic equivalent of screaming into the void and I have no friends anymore and being a grownup is tumbling with ever increasing velocity into the jaws of oblivion. That vocal track I linked? Now that I think of it, that really isn't the sound the documentarian was going for. That's the sound of staring down the maw of oblivion.
The deadline is in three days. The documentarian hired another person to do triage on the score. I failed. What the fuck am I doing with my life.