Curiously with Dustin Grinnell

A Night at the Movies: The Film Scores That Make Us Feel Something

I’ve always been attuned to movie scores. The way a piece of music can deepen a moment, shift an atmosphere, or quietly break your heart without a single word of dialogue. So I decided to do something a little different. I put together a special radio edition of Curiously, recorded live at the Dale Dorman Radio Studio at Massasoit Community College, dedicated entirely to movies scores. Not the obvious ones. Not Jurassic Park. Not Forrest Gump. I wanted to play the pieces that deserve more air time. The playlist spans nearly 90 minutes and 18 tracks. You’ll hear Hans Zimmer’s thunderous submarine theme from Crimson Tide alongside Max Richter’s quietly devastating “On the Nature of Daylight,” which has appeared in more films than almost any other contemporary piece of music. You’ll hear Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross score an afterlife waiting room for Soul, a Pixar film about a jazz musician. You’ll hear a horror movie that has absolutely no right being as overwhelming as it is. And you’ll hear a piece from the movie Tracks, the story of a woman who walked 2,000 miles alone across the Australian Outback, that helped inspire me to take my own solo journey across the United States by motorcycle, which you can watch at Outside Magazine [https://www.outsideonline.com/video/finding-words-live-dads-letters/?scope=initial]. In this special episode, you’ll hear scores from: • Good Will Hunting, Her, Interstellar, and Arrival: films that use music to access what words can’t reach • Oppenheimer and The Social Network, where the score captures the texture of a complicated mind at work • Up, and dialogue-free opening sequence that quietly destroys you before the movie has really begun • The Revenant and Blade Runner 2049, vast and hauntingly atmospheric • Rudy, Crimson Tide, and Scent of a Woman: propulsive, elegant, and timelessly cinematic • Hereditary: yes, a horror film made the list, and yes, it earns it • Moneyball: the post-rock piece that plays us all the way out 💡 About Curiously: https://www.podpage.com/curiously/about/ 📖 My books: https://www.dustingrinnell.com/bio

What Actually Makes People Laugh? A Comedian Tells All

There’s an old idea that explaining a joke is like dissecting a frog: you come away understanding how it works, but the joke dies in the process. Naturally, I decided that was worth spending an hour on. Jim Stallions is a Boston-based comedian you may know from the stage, from his TikTok account Great Face for Radio [https://www.tiktok.com/@greatfaceforradio], or from being the guy in the room you can never quite predict. He joined me in the Dale Dorman Radio Studio at Massasoit Community College to talk about what makes people laugh, and why anyone would choose a life of standing in front of strangers and hoping they do. We get into the origins of his comedy, the anatomy of a joke, and whether any of this can actually be taught. We also talk about bombing and why so much great comedy is built on something that hurts. This is the radio edition of Curiously, recorded live in the studio. In this episode, we discuss: • How Jim got into stand-up and what shaped his comedic sensibility • What actually makes something funny • The difference between being funny in life and crafting comedic material • How to build a stand-up routine • The jokes he wishes he’d written and the trends he’d happily retire • Bombing, and why the useful bombs are the ones that change you • What comedy is for, and why people still drive to a room to laugh with strangers 💡 Learn more about Jim Stallions: https://www.tiktok.com/@greatfaceforradio 💡 Take the podcast survey: www.curiouslypod.com/survey 💡 About Curiously: www.curiouslypod.com

MFA Writing Programs: The Good, the Bad, the Ugly

Can writing be taught? It’s one of the oldest arguments in literary culture, and every year, thousands of writers bet their time, money, and creative confidence that the answer is yes. They enroll in MFA programs, bring their pages into classrooms, and submit themselves to a process called “workshop,” where their work gets dissected, debated, and handed back to them. Of course, MFA writing programs exist for more than just fiction writers. You can pursue an MFA in poetry, creative nonfiction, literary journalism, graphic novels. But what actually happens inside these writing programs? How is craft taught? What does a workshop feel like from the inside? And what are the things nobody mentions in the admissions brochure? To answer all of that, I invited two writers I met during my own MFA program—Samantha Cooke and Martin Smith, who writes under the name M. Earl Smith—to talk about everything. We cover the real value of MFA training, how workshops function at their best, and what the path toward publication actually looks like. We also get into the less glamorous side: the gatekeeping, the performative readings, the bureaucratic nonsense, and the moments that make you wonder what you signed up for. Whether you’re considering an MFA yourself, already in one, or simply curious about what happens when a room full of writers tries to teach each other, this one’s for you. In this episode, we discuss: • What MFA programs in writing actually do, and what they can’t do • How the workshop model works and why it’s both powerful and flawed • The craft techniques and storytelling tools you develop along the way • What the path to publication really looks like for MFA graduates • The culture inside these programs: the good, the pretentious, the absurd • Performative readings, academic politics, and other things nobody warned you about • What Sam and Martin took away from the experience — and what they’d do differently • Whether an MFA is worth the investment for a writer serious about their craft 💡 Learn more about Sam Cooke: https://samanthaelicooke.com/ 💡 Learn more about Martin Smith (M. Earl Smith): https://www.mearlsmith.com/ 💡 Take the podcast survey: www.curiouslypod.com/survey

This Sci-Fi Story Takes You Inside the Human Body—Literally

When I was a kid, one of my favorite TV shows was The Magic School Bus. In one episode, Ms. Frizzle shrinks the class down and takes them inside the human body to learn about the immune system. I’ve never forgotten it. For years, I knew I wanted to write a story about people miniaturizing themselves with advanced technology and venturing into the body on a mission. Last year, I finally gave it a shot. I imagined technology that reduces the space between subatomic particles, shrinking a person down to microscopic size so they can be injected into the bloodstream. Then I gave the premise some heart, because that’s my favorite kind of sci-fi. Two veteran body explorers, Abby and Jackson, were once partners in both business and life. Now they’re estranged. When Jackson disappears inside a billionaire’s brain during an illegal memory-erasure mission, Abby is the only one who can go in after him. The story is called Micro, and it’s read here by voice actor Laura Neibaur [https://www.lbneibaur.com/bio], who responded to my casting call and brought this story to life with a dramatic yet understated performance that honors every nuance of the language. The story was beautifully scored by Brad Parsons of Train Sound Studio [https://trainsoundstudio.com/pages/about-us], a podcast production house. Finally, I recorded my intro at Massasoit Community College as part of their Radio and Podcasting Certificate Program [https://massasoit.edu/academics/academic-programs/liberal-studies-and-the-arts/programs/media-arts-radio-certificate.html], a new chapter I’m grateful to be in. 💡 Learn more about Laura Neibaur’s work: https://www.lbneibaur.com/ 💡 Learn more about Brad Parsons’ work: https://trainsoundstudio.com/ 💡 Take the podcast survey: www.curiouslypod.com/survey 💡 About Curiously: www.curiouslypod.com

Imagination, Aphantasia & The Mind’s Eye: Why Your Brain Spends Half Your Life Somewhere Else

When we think of imagination, we assume it’s reserved for creatives: painters and poets, actors and musicians. But the truth is, we use our imagination almost constantly: anytime we reminisce, anticipate, plan, or daydream. Research suggests we spend between a quarter and half of our waking hours with our minds wandering elsewhere, away from what’s right in front of us. But why? And what’s actually happening in our brains when we drift? In this episode, I talk with Dr. Adam Zeman, author of The Shape of Things Unseen: A New Science of Imagination, about how imagination shapes every aspect of human experience, from memory and planning to creativity and perception itself. Dr. Zeman is a UK-based neurologist whose book blends neuroscience with the humanities and the arts, drawing on evolutionary biology, child development, literature, and music to paint a picture of the imaginative mind. He examines William Blake’s visionary poetry, Mozart’s ability to hear entire concertos in his head, and the creative insights behind scientific breakthroughs like the discovery of benzene. But Dr. Zeman also reveals imagination’s darker side. A wandering mind can be an unhappy mind—excessive rumination contributes to depression, and our ability to simulate future scenarios can trap us in anxiety. From psychosomatic illness to the placebo effect, imagination operates at every level of human consciousness, for better and worse. In this episode, we discuss: • Why we spend between 25-50% of our waking hours with our minds wandering • What happens in the brain when we daydream, reminisce, or imagine the future • Aphantasia—the inability to visualize images—and what it reveals about imagination • How some people experience vivid mental imagery while others have none • Why perception might be a form of controlled hallucination shaped by expectation • The creative process of writers and artists, from William Blake to Mozart • How imagination contributes to scientific breakthroughs and problem-solving • The darker side of imagination: rumination, anxiety, and depression • The mysteries of psychosomatic illness and the placebo effect • Why understanding imagination might be the key to understanding consciousness itself