The Dubstep Nightmare

Yesterday, as I lounged in my bathtub like a true queen, basking in the glory of my recent art show success, I couldn't help but reflect on the piece that I had wanted to sell the most and it did! It was a stroke of genius, a painting inspired by my intense hatred for a certain type of wine. New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc. I wrote an article about that piece and you can read it here. The person who bought it, totally got it. As I sat in my tub, I thought about how I love to write about things I hate.

A few weeks later after I created that painting, I found myself scribbling a poem about another one of my distastes: Girl Scout cookies. You can read that one here. About a week after I wrote that piece, I turned to my trusty friend, the writing professor, for guidance on my next literary endeavor.

"What should I write about today?" I asked eagerly. Without missing a beat, she replied, "Write about your loathing for marshmallows." And just like that, a new poem was born. It feels good to me to channel all that negative energy into words on a page. My friend the writing professor says it’s easy to write about things we hate because we are clear on them.

As I soaked in the tub, brainstorming my next hate-fueled piece, inspiration struck. What else do I despise enough to write about? The answer hit me like a ton of bricks, and I knew my next project was already in the works. Dubstep.

Please Turn That Shit Off!

I hate Dubstep. It's one of the worst sounds I've ever heard, and I can't even consider it music. It's as shockingly unpleasant as the time I mistakenly grabbed someone's Sprite instead of a glass of water to quench my thirst. Sprite is repulsive to me as well. Gag reflex.

Dubstep, to me, is like pineapple on pizza. It's just not appealing. It feels like someone dropped a toaster in a bathtub and decided to call it music.

I don't need you to convince me how great it is. I need you to fucking turn that shit off. I don't need to listen to it. I need you to put on your headphones.

The suffocating feeling I get from this sound is worse than the rush of a Black Friday sale at a small store. It's not because I'm holding my breath waiting for the beat to drop; it's because it's affecting my nervous system and causing dysregulation. I even feel like I'm developing ADHD from listening to this crap. A few times I’ve walked into my wellness studio in the morning and one of my colleagues had it on. I literally understood for a moment why Van Gogh cut his ear off. I thought I was going mad.

It sounds like a bunch of twelve-year-olds making music in their basement without any parental guidance for years. If Prince were to hear this, he'd probably roll over in his grave.

I don't consider this music; it's more like auditory pollution and stress-inducing noise. It feels like my air supply has been cut off, and I'm starting to feel physically sick. It's giving me a migraine that not even a gallon of Advil could cure.

If this music were played in a room full of plants, they would probably wither and die. If Dr. Emoto were still conducting his water experiments, the sound would likely make the water form mold.

Dubstep: I'm breaking into a cold sweat, and my body doesn't feel right. I can't focus, and I'm restless and irritable. It feels like my muscles are locking up, and I'm trapped in a crowded room with no way out. It's like having a bad acid trip that won't end.

I feel like I need an oxygen mask because my heart is racing, and it feels like I'm on speed. Please, for the love of god, turn this music off. Don't you want me to live?

And have you seen how people dance to this? They look like they're having seizures and being electrocuted at the same time. This can’t be good for humanity. I keep picturing David Hawkins map of consciousness diagram and it has to be a frequency of 100 or below. My body literally rejects it.

Does anyone else feel this as deeply? Now I think I need to paint a painting of this too. I’m in a nightmare and I can’t wake up. Make it stop.