Various Painful Things Compared To Loud Music as I try To Sleep

by travistack

There are drunk people playing a synthesizer in the other room and it sounds like someone scrambling a metal device around in my brain. The keyboard goes from a generic, midi-format polka to what could only be described as ambient sound-noodling. (Ok, so, in reality, I can come up with more ways to describe the sound, but I thought the phrasing was apt and decided “ambient sound-noodling” was simple and concise enough for my needs and purposes).

Have you ever heard the sound of two cats raping each other? How about sirens raping each other? Or armies of nails, again, raping each other on a giant acoustically enhanced chalkboard?
In short, I guess what I’m asking is - have you ever heard the sound of rape?
Because, unfortunately, that’s what a lot of music has been sounding like to me in recent times. Mostly times when I am trying to get to bed but can’t. I currently associate music, or the practicing of music, with the un-consenting entry of foreign objects into my aural cavities.

When you’re trying to sleep, ska music is like someone kicking you in the rib. They’re kicking lightly, but over and over again. It’s like a hyperactive elf, pounding erratically on your temple (in the same manner that a small child might; thrash their arms on the ground in a supermarket aisle).
Dance music at least has a steady beat; this is more like having a slow jack hammer pound into your face as you attempt to drift further into your pillow. It evokes the image so clearly you feel as though the beer-bellied construction worker looming over you. Often, the steady back and forth of the 120 BPM vacuousness causes my eyes to rock from left to right like a metronome (or one of those terrifying wall-clocks shaped like a cat). The paranoia builds up until you truly understand Poe’s tell-tale haunting. The beat is so steady that it feels like it’s inside you. So you go to your tool-box, get a chisel and start to pry open your head; but there’s nothing there, and the noise remains. Even as you lay bleeding on the ground, you can still hear that pounding. You can still feel that jack-hammer against your skull.

But at least it’s not hardcore.

I would rather have my testicles gnawed at by hungry beavers than hear a hardcore band play anything after midnight. All the screaming. Dear god, the screaming…
It’s like you’re in a blitzkrieg only people are making revenue off the merchandising.
Butt fucking a porcupine would be more pleasurable than listening to hardcore while trying to get to sleep. Frankly, I would rather have a pneumatic drill screwed into my urethra on webcam in front of congress.

[SIDE NOTE: At this point I’d like to say I would really NOT like to have any of these things done to me. In reality, toned down and out of persona, I would MUCH rather try to sleep through music than have anything inserted into my urethra or have sex (especially anal) with any form animal (especially one with quills).]

I guess what I’m saying is I’m a man who enjoys the simple things in life; like sleeping.
Quietly. In my comfortable bed.

Just like a regular citizen.