Noise rant, physics, and assault versus common courtesy.

Noise rant, physics, and assault versus common courtesy.

I was just trying to do my drudge-work. Listen to the headset and type out the words. But this drumming kept intruding. Kinda sounded like someone practising march-style drumming, possibly more than one person. But then a really fast electronic beat happened, followed by a drum drop. I figured it was the teen centre a block away.

The teen centre, just some fun activity to keep them from becoming juvenile delinquents. But why should I pay the price? I go there and talk to the blank-faced city guy in charge. “These events happen every few months.” Sure, but every day, some other person is making noise “for just a few minutes”. Rinse and repeat.

How about y’all just tone down the bass? I shouldn’t have to hear it 10-100 metres away! It’s that simple. Get outta my life. Stop harassing me. You’re like a stalker, all of y’all. Get a clue. Take a physics class. Physics, ya know, the science of physical materials and all kinds of waves, including lowly sound waves that you study before all the others.

Instead Mr. Cityguy turned my home into a prison. Stole 3-4 hours of my life so some teenagers could learn that making pointless noise and bothering other people is A-okay. The City of New Westminster, BC sucks with their attitude about noise.

It’s simple to turn the bass down. CityIdiot said the music would go to 730. Great! I don’t give a rat turd about the music. It’s the B-A-S-S that’s the problem. The physics of it, ya know? The broader considerations? Enjoy your teenage music activity. I do not much care.

The invasion of my space, the disruption of my work, the inability to be at peace in my home – all these I care about. A sound wave is physical. You’re touching me with it, you disgusting pervert. Get out of my body.

I couldn’t do my work. Quite often when these noise events occur, I can still feel the beat despite wearing ear plugs and a noise-protection earmuff on top of it. Needless to say, I shouldn’t have to do all that. Mr. CityJob and the City itself should just turn the bass down.

I hope y’all burn in a fire while suffering painfully from incurable cancer and seeing your loved ones tortured. Not that I have any power to make this happen; therefore, it’s not a threat. Just a curse.



Been a while since I’ve posted – November, last year.

Still finding it odd there’s 7 billion people on this rock, but I’m lonely. Many are lonely.

At the same time, there seems to be not enough space. It’s hard to own a little cottage and a garden, even if you move out of town. Pretty much impossible to own your home in town, near university and all other exciting amenities. Few people in Vancouver can own their home and most are renters.

I’m trying to get out, even if that means into some house in the middle of nowhere, such as Williams Lake, Greenwood, Port Alberni, whatever.

I wanna grow my own veggies and be free from paying rent on someone else’s investment, and putting up with people clattering overhead, next door, and on the street passing by. The city is killing me, even as it is the source of Meetup buddies, dance classes, and other amenities.

The world doesn’t agree with me and every so often topping myself seems like an easy out.




Don’t you ever pull up anywhere with your music blaring, ever again. Don’t you dare. You’re harassing people, you and the team of hundreds of other people that pull up or drive by at high speed during the day and night. Yes, it’s a public space, but it’s right adjacent our living space. It’s not a nightclub zone. People live here. People that like to relax, read, and think. Some of us, at least, who aren’t deaf yet.

I remember going to the Ridge Theatre in Vancouver, as a young adult, even though I didn’t live in Vancouver, Burnaby, or Richmond. There were signs all over the neighbourhood, including inside the theatre, because the Ridge had become a destination. No longer a neighbourhood theatre, it was the home of midnight showings and cult films that attracted a more boisterous bunch. Punks and other loudmouths with plenty of attitude, having good times. The Ridge didn’t want the neighbours to hate them, so they didn’t want to bother the neighbours. No doubt the neighbours complained – as I am doing now.

Would you stand on someone’s front porch and yell back and forth to your car, after dark? Or anytime really? Why not go talk to your friend face to face. This ain’t a party zone. We could be dying in here. Hundreds if not thousands of people live in these towers, and we don’t have AC. We have windows. If you pull up with loud music you’re like the dimbulb greaseball with the duck’s ass in the back, in a 1950s movie, updated for the 21st century, but still a jerk.

Just don’t. Ever.



Noise is killing me today. I can’t live like this. I am ready to hang myself softly in the shower stall, put a plastic bag over my head while I incapacitate myself with a bucket of downers, and hopefully slash my femoral artery via the femoral triangle, before succumbing to one or the other.

Why do people have to screech into their cellphones on the street?

Why do people use power saws and hammer out on a deck, broadcasting to hundreds of people nearby?

Why do idiots sit in their cars with motor and music going, idling, polluting air with both chemicals and sound? And why do they give me wanker answers like, “I can still play my music” when I ask them to turn it off and stop bothering me. No idling, eh?

I don’t want to live in this world.

I don’t want to live.

The man from Porlock. I have no peace. Earplugs and industrial earmuffs means I have no access to my work (sound recording) or joy (music and birdsong.)

I’d rather be dead.

But what if… just what if all these noises were just like an annoying mosquito to some much larger being. And what if a big hand came slapping down on those cars, say a 16-ton hand. It’d leave some holes in the road and some squashed metal and an obstacle course. And then there would be quiet.

Yeah, yeah, until people started yelling, and ambulances and tow trucks. Well, it was a nice fantasy.

Freedom from

Freedom from

It’s not okay with me that people modify their vehicles to make excess noise. Do people not understand that noise causes stress? I think they do understand, as it’s evident many people who make their vehicles noisy, whether by pipes, bass, or loud music, get a kick out of bothering other people and pushing their buttons. Not saying it’s the prime motivation for all, but for jerks it’s part of being cool.

So, I was trying to work in this heatwave, with the window open of course, and I heard something like a straining semi-truck or a revving mud-bogging truck with no muffler. It went on and on. I mean even if it went for five seconds it’d be enough to interrupt me.

And, no, I can’t wear earplugs and a construction earmuff on top as I do at other times, because I have to listen to recordings to do my work. And it’s ridiculous I have to double down on soundproofing to have peace, but I do. I realize other people block it out wih TV and their deafness, but I don’t have a TV, and I’m not deaf. It’s a blissful hour when I can play my doumbek music and dance. I don’t notice crap noise much during that hour.

So I look out to see what monstrosity is making such a racket and it’s the nondescript vehicle above. A nondescript young person exits and waits outside the building for apparently a girlfriend. I guess when you appear utterly bland in every way, having the most obnoxious sounding car in town helps you stand out. Not sure obnoxious is better than bland, but that’s just me.

While writing this post, I heard thumping again. Tracked it down a block away at the teen centre. Some deejay thing. Nice waste of time and getting overheated for me to walk over there to whack a mole and get freedom from putting up with a second heartbeat in my body for no good reason.