I have no kit; I drum on my legs.
I don't do the whole self-injury thing much anymore. Instead, I drum.
I have a high tolerance for pain. Strong blood vessels, too. My legs should be beet red by now. No beat pun intended.
Aah-ee-oooh, Killer Tofu, though.
Eee-owie.
I've been thinking about music a lot. Not other people's; mine. I want to make music. I want to know what it would take to make music for a living. I want to meet good, dedicated musicians and form a band where I can express myself. I want to save my money and buy a drum kit. And I want to sit down and devote myself to it. I will need a place where I can actually have a drum kit; my room is too small.
A lot of planning will have to go into this. Good thing I'm still 20-something. By the time my mom was 30-something, she'd already had me. I want to settle down, but not yet. I would like someone to roll with, though. For a bit.
It's come to my attention recently that I might be cool. I'm cool with that.
