Darwin: Okay. Today I get a chance to talk to someone who is slowly but surely becoming a really close friend. He's a coworker with me at Cycling '74. His name's Dan Derks. I've actually had a lot of requests from listener-land out there - especially after we had the conversation with Andrew C. S. and he got mentioned a couple of times. I got a lot of comments like, "Okay, fine. So let's hear from Dan." I think a lot of people will recognize Dan from his work on the Sound + Process podcast, probably my favorite podcast that I listen to. Additionally, like I said, he's a coworker with me at Cycling. He is also very, very, engaged with the Lines community. It's where I first ran across him. And quite frankly, he also has his hands in a lot of development pies as well. We'll let him talk about it more - you don't need to hear his bio for me! Let's hear from the man himself. Dan, how are you doing this morning?
Dan Derks: I'm good. Thank you so much for having me.
Darwin: Are you kidding me? It's my pleasure. I, I was looking forward to having this discussion. I really do appreciate you taking the time to do it.
Dan Derks: Yeah, absolutely. I've never been on this side of the microphone.
Darwin: Oh really? That surprises me. Well, why don't we start off by... I mean, I started jabbering about the stuff you do and really I ought to just let you do it. So why don't you kind of fill us in on the body of work that you're accumulating?
Dan: Yeah. I mean, a lot of it is rooted in the Lines community. So I actually just had my anniversary badge pop up again for four years. I joined the Lines community because I was interested in learning more about the intersection of art and tech. It seemed like a community of folks who were diverse in thought, diverse in who they were, but all shared a pretty common language and a common set of values around art and technology. So the first big thing, I guess the big step that I took toward creating a body of work is the Sound + Process podcast, which was homegrown - literally just wanting to learn more about the people that I was watching every single day, you know, having conversations on Lines. And I had kind of grown up in the DIY, high school punk band scene and you created a lot of connections through going to shows with people.
And these people on the internet were becoming as important to me as my friends were when I was in high school, going to a bunch of VFW halls. But that experience of going to a show and hanging out and getting to actually have a conversation with all those starts and stops and wonderful, happy accidents - that wasn't really something that was possible through an internet forum. Everything is weighted. There's an edit history. Everything feels like the final word. And I kinda just wanted to see what would happen if I got somebody on the phone, and asked them questions about their process and the way that they approach things and hopefully would be able to open up the conversation within the community to be a little more person-centric and to give that sense of personality. So, I feel [that] is really the core of the work that I do. It's very community-driven. The music that I make is a result of the things that I create for the Lines community, for the people who spend time there are the people who, you know, have Monome gear or don't have Monome gear.
Darwin: Everything really goes back to the community. The idea that even your music making process in some way is a nod to this community that you're a part of. That's really a unique thing because so often people come to these communities at least seeming to be fully formed. And it seems like you're coming kind of embryonic and letting the community sort of pull you in some direction.
Dan: Oh yeah, absolutely. I mean, I remember the very first goal that I stated was one day hopefully being able to learn Max so that I could create applications back for the community. And I had no real idea how to accomplish that. And for a long time that wasn't even something I was able to do. So the podcast really was the first thing where I was like - okay, I want to be able to do something for this group of people. This is the thing that's in my skill set. I had done a lot of interviews for... there's a local based internet publication called Pop Matters and they basically just put out a call for folks to interview pretty well known - within indie rock and stuff like that - to interview these folks.
And you don't get paid for it, but you get the opportunity to sit down for an hour and a half with Dan Bejar from the New Pornographers. And so I'd been doing that and when I got to Lines I was like, okay, cool. I know I want to engage in a different way. I know I want to be a contributor here, but I have no freaking clue how to do it the way that everyone else is able to do it through creating apps, through contributing on GitHub, things like that. So I just took an inventory of the things I could do - and interviewing was one of those things - and it really kind of came out of left field. Jonathan, who performs as GLIA, if he hadn't said yes, I don't necessarily know what my life would be like right now. He was the very first interview of the series and his willingness and openness totally validated the risk of doing something a little untraditional (in terms of contributing to Lines). There wasn't a to-do list, with one of the items was have a podcast about this community. It wasn't something that really was being asked for, but it seems like the best thing that I could do to give a little bit back.
Darwin: And you've put together a pretty interesting body of work in that podcast, but additionally you have been involved in making apps applications. I mean, first of all, one of the things I noticed within the community is you're actually very active when someone else says, "Hey, I made this thing!" You seem to be really active: "Hey, let me try it. Hey this, this is really cool." You know, it's that role of validator, right? Cause one of the things that happens in any community is when people are putting out their efforts without some sort of validation, it can really seem like nobody cares. "I'm just not going to bother anymore." And you seem to really uphold this, this role of being the validator for people in a way that really invites creation.
Dan: That's good. Yeah. I mean that, that's an important thing to me. I have a background in education and a background in theater as well and that feels like that description of things feels pretty close to the reasons why I started to get involved in teaching - and got involved with improv. Acting is just being able to be the first person or the second person or the third person to validate the choice that someone else made to offer whatever bit of energy positively that I can. Because those things are... otherwise you just kind of get into this space where... yeah, you don't necessarily know if the thing that you are asking to contribute is a value to others, and that kills your creative spirit if you're pretty like, "I don't know." I think that there's an orientation of extroversion that some folks have.
So what I mean by that is: I am amazed when people can go to parties and engage with a bunch of different people and work the room. That exhausts me, that that's something that I'm just not capable of doing for very long. I really like focusing in on one person. I'll spend two hours with one or two people, and I wouldn't have met the other 15. So that's one form of extroversion. But then I think the other is an extroversion through what you make and put out to address the perceived needs of others. So creating applications is a form of extroversion. Creating applications and sharing them is a form of extroversion that is - it does the same thing. It brings people together. It communicates something from inside of you, your perspective, your values, all the decisions that you make when you're creating something for others to use are directly informed by the worldview that you have and your perception of how others operate. And the process of iterating an application or an interface, I think creates a really wonderful opportunity to infuse empathy in a lot of the dialogue. "Hey, this didn't work the way I expected it to." "Oh, interesting. What were you expecting?" That's the same fundamental thing that goes toward good conversation. But yeah, it's baked into the creation of an app or something like that. Anyway, I think that's just, that really fascinates me.
Darwin: Well, and also it's kind of baked into this embrace of technology, which sort of is a comfort zone for people who don't necessarily like to be the life of the party. Right?
Dan: Yeah. Yeah.
Darwin: Very interesting. I want to come back to this, but before we get there, you've already dropped some nuggets that are like, nutty to me - if you don't mind me saying. And I mean because you're like, "I have a background in teaching" and you just made a brief drive-by mention of improv and acting and stuff. It sounds to me... and also you know, your entry into this world is just four years ago, but you've accomplished an extraordinary amount in that period of time. I am curious first of all about your background and then secondly, how you ramped up from wherever you were to where you are now - in what appears to be a blazing bit of speed. Can you fill us in, first of all, where did you come from? And secondly, how did you come come up to speed so quickly?
Dan: Yeah, absolutely. Which is - honestly - the very first question you asked and I just...
I grew up in central Connecticut, which is a weird space. I grew up in New Britain, where Stanley Tools used to have their factories. So not the Stars Hollow/Gilmore Girls Connecticut, but, old factory-town Connecticut. And yeah, I started doing theater from a pretty young age. It was, I think, a coping mechanism for the fallout from my parents' divorce. My mom enrolled me in theater classes. Which really, I don't know, it was a really precious idea that I don't think she fully understood when she was doing it. She wasn't like, "Oh, here's a way for him to have community." It was literally just like here's a way for him to have fun. And I ended up falling in love with being around others who were creating at the same time - for lack of a better term.
So I did theater all throughout high school. I had, you know, the requisite shitty punk bands. And then when I went to college, I tried to do a major in theater and a minor in math. Just cause I really loved the problem solving headspace that math put me in versus theater. A theater was very much like - your problem solving is all is all empathy driven, right? You have to understand why somebody would decide to say something or do something in a script. Because if you don't understand that, then you're not gonna necessarily be able to make it come to life. And so you're always digging into the reasons why these things are happening from these people. And math was very much an exercise in figuring out why these things were true. In a lot of ways, emotions can be really subjective.
People's experiences push them toward concepts and understandings that they will hold onto but are completely... just because of the events that happened and the sequence in which they happened. And sometimes we can get to what seemed universal truths, but so much of it is super-subjective and math was just the opposite of that. And so I tried to have a major in theater and a minor in math. I found out that after Calc 4, I really tapped out. So I dropped the minor and continued with theater. And Clark, where I went to school, it's like this tiny liberal arts college in Western Massachusetts. They have a five year program. So if you have - not that high of a GPA, like a 3 point - I think a 3.25 or higher, then you can get your masters in a couple of really key areas for free.
And so you start by doing some grad-level courses in your undergrad once you kind of figure out, "Oh yeah, that's the path I want to go down." So I think teaching, it made a lot of sense from that kind of figuring out how people operate and then figuring out how to distill truths from the math side. And it felt like a really nice combination of both things and it felt like it could be a more sustainable career path than acting could be. So I got my masters in teaching from Clark, focused on urban education, moved down to Pittsburgh - where I worked at a theater called the Kelly Strayhorn theater, which is central to the East end of Pittsburgh. I am not entirely sure its state right now, but at that point, maybe about six or seven years ago, it was really in flux.
[There was] a lot of gentrification happening, a lot of commercial development, a Whole Foods next to a school that was in its last year of "No Child Left Behind" shutdown. So yeah, this really bizarre space and residents of that area kind of walked through this strange duality. And the theater that I worked at directly programmed for the people in the East end. It wasn't trying to get people out from the suburbs. It wasn't really interested in getting people from the other neighborhoods to come by. It was so focused on how do we engage people that are here, that live here, that have lived here, and provide something to them through this process, through this weird change period. And so that was really a really cool experience. But I also was pretty ill-prepared for what that work requires.
I was just out of college and they didn't have a huge education program or footprint, so I kind of just asked if I could help with that. I had been doing some tech work for the theater and so I asked if I could help. And, they eventually let me run an education department for a year and a half. And it ended up just kinda fizzling because I was dumb and 23, you know. But yeah, after that I moved to Chicago to pursue improv comedy training at iO and ImprovOlympic, which is one of the two theaters out here. It's the other one that isn't Second City. And yeah, I think through doing improv, that's where I kind of figured out that what I was interested in as far as performance goes. I had kind of realized that scripted work wasn't for me because I didn't like the audition process. I hated it, I was terrible at it. And improv there, the audition process is just the moments, right? Like, there's this doubling down on the present moment that is really engaging to me. So, through that I figured out what my performative motivations were and then I ended up picking up music again, largely through Rodrigo Constanza, whose Party Van app I just found it online. And then rabbit hole'd my way to the Lines community,
Darwin: So the question is, prior to doing that, the only mention of music in that whole timeline was being in shitty punk bands. I mean, was there something else or was that really kind of the extent of music prior to stumbling on Party Van?
Dan: Yeah, I mean, the theater that I did in high school had to be musical theater, you know, that there wasn't really like New Britain didn't have a shit ton of funding or anything like that. So, the easiest thing to do to get the most people is yeah.
Darwin: You do Grease.
Dan: Yeah, exactly. Exactly. So yeah, I'd had a lot of music exposure through that. But I think for me the music has always been a really meditative practice. Even playing in shitty punk bands, you could go for four hours in a rehearsal, and it felt like 20 minutes. And so that's always been an attractive energy to me.
Darwin: That's so interesting. Now, I have gotten a chance to sort of immerse myself in your music, for people that are interested. It's on Bandcamp - you just search for Dan Derks and you'll find it. You have four releases out, all of which are just gorgeous. They happen to be in line... I don't know, one of the things I would say is in the current world of music that I care about (the electronic music world), it's not dubstep and not trap and not these other things. The world that I inhabit, there are the things that sound like metal falling down stairs. There are the things that sound like really great versions of wind chimes. There are things that sound like somebody talking backwards in a loop, you know, there are these kind of clear genre-ish kind of things.
And I would say that you are kind of in this beautiful wind chime world, which I swear I put your stuff on and I can listen to it for hours. I find it just endlessly fascinating because it's sort of these beautiful tonalities with simplicity. So it doesn't clog my head with a lot of stuff. It's simple and straightforward, but there's always these subtle variations. And what I find really interesting about your work is the model of subtlety to it. Now for me, it's one of the things that makes me kind of surprised to hear that you aren't talking about having 30 years worth of background in doing electronic music because a lot of times that sort of subtlety comes with a maturity of doing stuff, right? Everybody has their Prog Rock phase and everyone has their Merzbow phase and everybody has their Richie Hawtin phase. And you kind of go through all these phases before you come to something that is personal and subtle and individual. It sounds to me like you just kinda got there on your own.
Dan: Thank you. That's a really lovely characterization of the stuff. But I think the quality that you landed on has more to do with improv than it does with intention. So for me, the reason why I stopped doing improv comedy was just because it stopped being fun, but the reasons why I was attracted to improv comedy in the first place was the opportunity to remove the control. So if you walk into a scene and you're like, "I know what the hell this is about already...", then the scene is going to be terrible. Because if you had a great idea, then you should have written it and it would have been a sketch or a play or a video. And the beauty, the magic of any kind of improvisation is in reacting to what is happening right now.
And that requires openness from both people but also a starting point. And so for me, I mean, I just started putting out music a year ago. I definitely spent those three years before putting something out, trying to figure out what it is that I wanted to do. And I started from "I'm going to write songs sort of perspective" and I would sit and... I knew shit about chords or song structures or anything like that. You know, playing in shitty punk bands, you don't really get a lot of that, but I think you do develop a sense of what should come next. Because that music is really fast, that music makes a lot of choices, bold choices and it commits. But it's over in two and a half minutes. So there isn't really a lot at risk.
And so for me, when I started writing songs which... it just felt terrible because all I was doing was trying to massage this stuff into some kind of statement and I didn't have the training to do that. I created these like seven minute weird things that were structured, like regular songs. I was trying to do drum programming. And I just hit a point where I was like, "Oh, this is the worst version of trying this stuff out that I can do because all I'm doing is exercising my, my ego on it." That kind of pure sense of ego that wanting to control these elements, that wasn't the magic for me of making art. The magic is always in responding. And so when I recognized that I wanted something like that, that I wanted a structure that facilitated that, that's kind of where I guess the impression that you have that I came to something very quickly is just not accurate. I just shared it as soon as I found it and then just kept sharing it because once I found it, I was like, "Oh, okay, now what comes next?" I could ask that and I could come up with an answer that was really much more based on what I wanted to play with or what I wanted to like. Does that, does that make sense?
Darwin: Yeah, it, it does. I mean it's kind of hard to talk about because I mean, music can be so many things and I actually think it's interesting that you align or attach it with improv because on one hand, a lot of times people talk about music making as being sort of an alternative or a nonverbal storytelling. But improv has a storytelling aspect to it, but it also has this reactive aspect to it that I think is particularly interesting, in terms of musically, because as electronic musicians - especially people who have the opportunity to stick as many knobs and sliders in front of our noses - what we do have is the ability to be reactive with the sound. You know, I think back to my early days working with keyboards, synthesizers that had impenetrable face plates, right? And you would kind of choose your sound and you would go, and that would be it. And there wasn't this sense that I can play and be mindful of the moment while playing and react sonically to the things that are developing. Instead it was more of a songwriting practice. It seems to me like that's the perspective of improv brought to you. It was like extending things past storytelling to also be reactive to and mindful about the things that were happening at that moment.
Dan: Yeah, yeah, absolutely. And I think through that human beings are natural pattern seekers and that was another part of improv training is you do kind of want to outpace your audience just a little bit so that you can surprise them but you're not necessarily surprising them with left turns that completely subvert their expectations. You're just delivering on something as the audience is like, "I want this." So the third act of an improv show, you in the audience have created a vocabulary and created a shared set of expectations about how the show is going to end. You spent that whole first 20 minutes, and then the end of that is the opportunity to be like, "Yeah, you wanted this 15 minutes ago." I'm giving it to you now after you forgot that you wanted it. But I was paying attention to what you were asking for and all of that is wordless. So yeah. Yeah. I think you're spot on.
Darwin: Well, and also having this idea that sharing is an important part of growing. I think that that's a thing that maybe some of our modern music-making tools don't really help with. Back when it was an acoustic guitar and a smile, you didn't really have much choice about distributing your work other than sitting in front of somebody else and playing your acoustic guitar and smiling. Now we have the ability to kind of hide out in your mom's basement and crank out tracks and never have to interact with the people other than chucking them on SoundCloud or something. And, I think that that can kind of lead to a really stale version of making music. It seems like your, your desire and almost excitement and sharing, really helps you brave that kind of world.
Dan: Yeah, I mean there have you read those Austin Kleon books? The Steal Like An Artist and Share Your Work?
Darwin: Oh, you know, based on somebody's recommendation I bought Steal Like An Artist and basically I "put it on the shelf like an artist" even though I know it's a quick read. So now you're giving me an impetus to actually pull it down but I have not read it. No.
Dan: I can't remember if it was... I guess it would have been in college that I found that book. I think his ideas are really clear about not having a preciousness around the act of stealing and not having a preciousness around the act of sharing. And so for the [stealing] side, like everything that I have made, it is 100% my attempt to make something that someone else has made. That's super inspiring to me. Right? That's what we do. We register the work of someone else, we connect with it emotionally. And that 100% wholesale informs us the next time we sit down. And his book really helped me just be like, cool. That is part of the process. I don't have to worry about singular voice or worry about creating something that like, creating a chord progression that's just going to knock everyone's socks off. It's like that...
Darwin: ...and is completely unique, right?
Dan: Yeah. There's just no way. And so once that element is removed, once I don't have to worry about that being the primary goal, then other things become the primary goal. And so it's a little less like "Oh, I want to achieve the sound from somebody." But there's definitely an element of, "Oh, that sounds like it was super fun to make. How the hell did they make that?" And I'll start guessing at it and start trying things. And because I am not them, I won't hit the same exact thing that they hit. And through that mistranslation, that's where the things that I have made come out. And then the other side of it is sharing. It's just being like, "Okay, I'm just going to record everything." I ended up getting a field recorder that I stole from work at a previous job and I took it home for two weeks and I just plugged it into my mixer as an out and I just had it running the entire time, two weeks straight. And on the other side of that, by having it be a single button rather than routing stuff into my computer through some kind of large interface, just having a stereo out single button recording now, that made it so much easier to collect a bunch of stuff. And then it made it really easy to share out because it was just a mass of things that were all improvisations.
Darwin: Oh, sure. Of course. Now one of the things that I mentioned at the beginning was that, I first interacted with you and got to see you in action as part of the Lines community. And, interestingly, a while back, I talked to Brian Crabtree a little bit about the development of the Lines community and he was very quick to point out that the actual development of it really occurred by the community itself and with some really great facilitation by some of the people within the community. And I think that he was talking about people like you, I'm curious about your perception, your self-perception of yourself in that community. I would say that it's definitely the most thoughtful and empathetic community I've experienced on the internet, but it still is the internet.
And you said earlier that on the internet everyone sounds like they're giving the final word, right? And, you know, that can be such a daunting thing because if you're coming from the outside, and the first thing you read is like "this thing never will work" and the next person is like "this is a stupid direction to go"... now even though those aren't done in like the all-caps version like I just said. And even if you're just like, "I don't think this will ever work" or "it's kinda, it's kinda stupid to go that way..." - even if you couch it in a different phrasing, if you don't know the context, it can be read in this kind of harsh way. How do you as a person who really embraces the community and is involved in helping, keeping it, keeping it healthy, how do you personally interface with it? But also how do you help other people in a kind of directing or shepherding them in ways that are positive?
Dan: I mean, I think a really necessary tool in that kit is our code of conduct. We hit a point maybe two years ago where the community had grown past the point of being able to reasonably assume positive intent from everyone that was on it. So I think looking back at the old Monome forum, it was a handful of folks, and a lot of them knew each other. There was almost no way that you could have landed on the Monem community without having interfaced with somebody else who was part of that online community. And with Brian and Kelly's decision to debrand Lines, and separate it from Monome proper, that opened up the conversation to go in really very interesting and super cool directions. But what that also does is it attracts people who haven't already had an emotional connection to somebody else who's on that forum.
And so it really is just a room full of strangers, but worse, it's like a room full of strangers that you're on the other side of a closed door on and you're just slipping notes under there. So you have no clue who is actually in the room. You have no clue what their relationships are to each other. You've no idea if they're fundamentally people that you would even like to know in your life. And I think that that's something just part of this present age, right? Like we interface with more strangers than ever before and it can be really hard to know what everyone's motivations are. And so I think once the Lines community hit a tipping point, we realized that we needed to have a set of ground rules that folks could look at and just be like, "How am I going to be treated coming into this space and how, what expectations will the space have of me walking in?"
And so that was a really critical thing for us. I think establishing that it's not necessarily like a line in the sand, it is fundamentally like Don't Be A Dick. But, the real message of the code of conduct is to help people who may not have felt comfortable publicly contributing to be like, "No, we have your back." These are the things that we hold, that, that hold value for us. And we will protect those things so that when you come in here, your experience is positive and if it isn't positive, we will help. We will help engage with the reasons why it isn't positive and try to impact it.
Darwin: the thing I would say is that what's interesting about that perspective is that the person that's walking into the community also then gets assigned a responsibility. The communities to me that that actually end up looking sad after a while are the places where the responsibility lies only in the moderator's hands and everyone else gets to set their hair on fire and it's the moderator's job to settle it down. It seems like what what's happened at Lines community is kind of the opposite. It's like we are as a community going to set some standards and it's your responsibility as you come into the community to read and understand those standards and, and to abide by them - and if you need guidance into understanding what that looks like, we can provide that. But I think that that's having that shared responsibility makes a lot of sense in modern communities.
Dan: Yeah. Yeah, absolutely.
Darwin: So, man, Jesus, we're already burning through our time and I had a million other things I wanted to talk about, but it is one thing in specific I want to talk about is your involvement in developments within the Monome community itself and particularly your involvement with the most recent release of hardware, which was the Crow. For those who don't know, Crow is a cool little device that has a USB interface to whatever host you want to stick it onto. But it also has a little language interpreter in it. It's a 2 HP module that can be sort of whatever you want it to be, including an I2C development platform for talking to other modules. It's crazy and it's cool and it's really straight forward. And Dan, you were involved in actually making some tools available that sort of facilitated easy access to it. Right?
Dan: My involvement with Crow was kinda two-fold. One was on the documentation side, so Crow really was a chance for us to create entry points for beginners in a way that the previously established hardware didn't really have that opportunity. It was always like an extension of... but Crow felt like a chance to engage some folks who may be brand new to the community or the ecosystem. And so we wanted to create a lot of documentation as entry points. So that was the primary thing. And then, the other thing was around Max for Live. So Crow has a couple of different environments through which it should operate. You can plug it in a NORNS, or you could plug it into your computer and load up a terminal for live coding or a scripting in Lua.
But then it also talks to Max. And so my responsibility for the project was to create the Max for Live toolkit so that folks could just plop something down into their Ableton Live set and interface with Crow immediately, just to have some really easy wins. So yeah, that was pretty much the scope of it. I learned so, so much. I had made some Max for Live devices for myself, but creating a suite of things, you know - creating a full toolkit, you have to answer so many different questions then when you're building for yourself, especially, you know, when you're going to be releasing it to others. And so there were just so many moments where I was like, "Cool, I think this is done." And then I would save it and then come back to it a day later with fresh eyes and just be like, "How does this work again?"
And constantly being in that a beginner's mindset is actually really helpful, because you're less likely to normalize your biases when you're designing. I think like for Crow, that was the biggest learn for me was that the very first iteration of the Max for Live devices wouldn't have been functional for anyone else but me, because it represented the ways in which I wanted to use Crow. So that was such a cool exercise to be able to be like, "All right, how do other people use Live though?" People use it for sequencing. People use it for multi-tracking. Those are not things that I necessarily use Live for. But what are the considerations of artists who engage with it in those ways? And how can, without losing the perspective that Monome has and the perspective that Whimsical Raps has, how can we create tools that honor the goals of a diverse range of artists, but still fundamentally speak as if they're part of this ecosystem. That was a big challenge.
Darwin: Yeah. So interesting. It sounds like it must've been a pretty fascinating, a fascinating journey for you. Unfortunately our time is up. I wish we could talk more. I have a bunch of questions here I was hoping to get to, but we'll have to see it for another time. In fact, we will make sure we make another time. So with that I will let you go, but for people who want to check out your musical work, what's best place for them to go?
Dan: So it's, Dan Derks, without any vowels. So just D-N-D-R-K-S. dot bandcamp.com.
Darwin: Okay, fantastic. I strongly recommend people listen to it, if nothing else, to kind of verify my genra orientation that I laid out there earlier as a sort of a perspective on electronic music. But anyway, I am so glad to have had this chance to talk to you. Thank you so much.
Dan: Thank you Darwin. Yeah, this has been a pleasure.
Copyright 2019 by Darwin Grosse. All right reserved.