Today, in my fanciest pants and hat, I’m going to show you that my big monkey hands are good for more than destroying things and hitting my own face.
As you can see–no tics. I could have played for eight hours and been symptom-free. However good I am, I am that good because practicing became a relief.
Music is one of the most important things in my life. I wrote this song a few years ago during the time when I couldn’t speak because of the injections I was getting in my throat. But I never gave it a name. That’s where you come in.
The song is currently called “The Day I Couldn’t Bend A Grade 5 Bolt And I Cried Like A Baby.” It’s good, but not catchy enough.
I’m sure you can do better?
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