It only took 25 years or so, but I’m again able to play drums not as a vehicle for institutional-engrained fuckery, self-criticism/ -loathing, and unpleasant late nineties home life PTSD triggers, but as a means of relaxation. Victory is mine.
metal_0151
Finally, after six+ weeks, my last yard installation of the summer; fitting, then, that I finished it on the first day of fall.
Improvised dogchild blockade apparatus for (theoretically) uninterrupted greenhouse floor drying.
