. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
As far as I can tell, my birth wasn't accidental. Two people, presumably my parents, did the dance of love seven months before the 27th of April 1988, which was a birth day that came two months earlier than it should have done. What came out of my mother was an organic life form, which I'm sure was what the Doctors and Nurses were expecting. My name is Lewis Young, and by my calculations I am currently 19.
I could bore you with stories of my early life, and my later life too, but I won't. I am, for the most part, unimportant, just like you, but you obviously think for some reason that these few paragraphs either hold the ultimate answer to everything, or your curiosity has compelled you in such a way to read on at least this far.Mostly, I write and sing songs. If it wasn't for my art teacher in year 5 deciding to hold guitar lessons in 1998, I might never have produced this, in 2006 . If it wasn't for the 80s, and the synth-pop and new wave movements, I might have never produced this, in 2007 . I'm not sure which I prefer, but they are both decidedly different from each other.It would appear that by cutting out the boring parts and replacing them with silence and a lack of words, I have reached the present day. This may have come too soon, but I like it that way.I'm sure I have a masterplan but I forget where I left it. It's around here somewhere.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
