Well, it's 9:26 PM on September 21, 2009, the date of which I wrote this. You're reading my NeoHome, now aren't you? Well, I guess you're expecting an interesting and engaging biography.
Biography (As promised) --- My name is Ross and I am 14 as of the date listed on your computer (probably) and I was born and raised in Rhode Island until I moved to Vermont last year. I don't know much about Vermont beside it's maple syrup and low population. But with a low population there's not much else, is there? I'm sorry I've mixed up some emotions in this stale topic.
My mom and dad married about 22 years ago and divorced about 9 years ago. At the time I was six years old (by doing the math), and she moved to Florida, and our family moved to some other town (presumably better) in the state. I started school there and then left before I started junior high. Now I'm here in the basement of a log cabin in a mountain town no one has ever heard of. I like robbing people and starting fires (false presumption). I leave with no choice but to grow my hair out and listen to music that's incredibly advanced for my age? i think
Extra Necessities --- I like playing guitar in creative ways and I like my foot pedals. I like my unfinished band and my weak interest. I like my mediocre digital art and my poorly written songs. I like my outdated video games and my outdated friends with a worthless upgrade.
I'm awfully thirsty.
dxoigmn**subterranean homesick alien/.
The breath of the morning i keep forgetting. The smell of the warm summer air. I live
in a town where you can't smell a thing, you watch your feet for cracks in the pavement.
Up above aliens hover making home movies for the folks back home, of al these wierd creatures who lock up their spirits, drill holes in themselves and live for their secrets.
They're all up-tight
I wish that they'd swoop down in a country lane, late at night when im driving. Take me on board their beautiful ship, show me the world as id love to see it.
I'd tell all my friends but they'd never believe
they'd think i'd finally lost it completely.
I'd show them the stars and the meaning of life. Theyd shut me away.
But i'd be alright. I'm just up-tight.
Today I stabbed my best friend at a party. It's tiring to have these people over. Destroying stuff isn't in my stuff. I'M NOT MUCH INTO Livejournal anymore.
Here's gnihtemos for your enjoyment; a few small files I found on a fan-based website for Radiohead I'm sure is capable of peaking your amusement level.
a bomb on a plane
these people hoarded like cattle comforting screaming babys and novels staring straight ahead in the panic the stewardess is desperate she is shouting at the standing those who demand their extra inches of space first in the queue packed in tomato sauce sardines with a bomb
none of the cattle stand a chance the babys maintain their crying vigil the upper class take comfort in their space and their upgrade in the event of anything untoward they will proceed toward the nearest exit in a dignified fashion holiday makers at the end of the trip tanned consumers with duty free remember their experiences as best they can before it is too late maKE peace with the world taking your seat on the plane on this last flight out of new york this evening there is a bomb children and families first please
excuse me have i got the window seat i asked for i have to be able to see the ground which is C?
neatly designed hand luggage cattle herded to slaughter they hold their bags up and inch forward
bright gay colours appear sad and grey in the pressurised cabin the feed is reheated
=== I really did like that when I found it. More stuff:
.....the waterfall of gadgets family cars and paperback books.
irrelevant struggles
"as specific causes of disease disappear, a growing proportion of people die of what are called stress diseases, or diseases of degeneration caused by stress, that is, by the wear and tear resulting from conflicts, shocks, nervous tension, frustration, bilitating rhythms.."
that's real life. my everyday life.
What about this feeling of never really being inside your own skin?
Let nobody say these are minor details or secondary points. There are no negligible irritations: gangrene can start in the slightest graze. A man carried along by the crowd, which only e can see, suddenly screams out in an attempt to break the spell, to call himself back to himself, to get back inside his own skin. The tacit acknowledgments, fixed smiles, lifeless words, listlessness and humiliation sprinkled in his path suddenly sur into him, driving him out if his desires and his dreams and exploding the illusion of being together. People touch without meeting; isolation accumulates but is never realised; emptiness overcomes us as the destiny of the crowd gathers. the crowd drags e out of myself and installs thousands of little sacrifices in my empty presence......
after Raoul Vanegeim the revolution of everyday life
=== It's an interesting one. Sur.
One rainy day whilst out shopping for groceries, I am surrounded by a growing crowd who are under the impression that I can fly. It seems that a dreadful mistake has been made: the local paper has printed an article about a gentleman who really does have this enviable talent, but they have put my photograph above the article. I am unsure about how the newspaper came to have a picture of me, but that is the least of my worries, faced, as I am, with this heckling crowd of strangers. I protest, but the crowd will give no quarter until I show them my incredible powers. At last, I give in to them, and stand, flapping my arms and jumping as high as I can into the damp air. This goes on for some time, and I become increasingly frightened that the now disenchanted crowd will attack me, believing me to be a self-promoting charlatan. But in the end they straggle off, muttering. Thanking my lucky stars, I rush home, too upset to continue my shopping. That evening, alone, I once again try to fly. It proves to be a futile exercise, but addictive. Night after night I stand on my roof, flapping my arms and making small jumps on the tiles.
Try as I might, I never manage to get airborne.
===
SlEeP geEEntly we award you}with a?medal. a med>al of a=hhonor we hope yyou like itT (pointless counter)
(point>less cou77nter)
Biography (As promised) --- My name is Ross and I am 14 as of the date listed on your computer (probably) and I was born and raised in Rhode Island until I moved to Vermont last year. I don't know much about Vermont beside it's maple syrup and low population. But with a low population there's not much else, is there? I'm sorry I've mixed up some emotions in this stale topic.
My mom and dad married about 22 years ago and divorced about 9 years ago. At the time I was six years old (by doing the math), and she moved to Florida, and our family moved to some other town (presumably better) in the state. I started school there and then left before I started junior high. Now I'm here in the basement of a log cabin in a mountain town no one has ever heard of. I like robbing people and starting fires (false presumption). I leave with no choice but to grow my hair out and listen to music that's incredibly advanced for my age? i think
Extra Necessities --- I like playing guitar in creative ways and I like my foot pedals. I like my unfinished band and my weak interest. I like my mediocre digital art and my poorly written songs. I like my outdated video games and my outdated friends with a worthless upgrade.
I'm awfully thirsty.
dxoigmn**subterranean homesick alien/.
The breath of the morning i keep forgetting. The smell of the warm summer air. I live
in a town where you can't smell a thing, you watch your feet for cracks in the pavement.
Up above aliens hover making home movies for the folks back home, of al these wierd creatures who lock up their spirits, drill holes in themselves and live for their secrets.
They're all up-tight
I wish that they'd swoop down in a country lane, late at night when im driving. Take me on board their beautiful ship, show me the world as id love to see it.
I'd tell all my friends but they'd never believe
they'd think i'd finally lost it completely.
I'd show them the stars and the meaning of life. Theyd shut me away.
But i'd be alright. I'm just up-tight.
Today I stabbed my best friend at a party. It's tiring to have these people over. Destroying stuff isn't in my stuff. I'M NOT MUCH INTO Livejournal anymore.
Here's gnihtemos for your enjoyment; a few small files I found on a fan-based website for Radiohead I'm sure is capable of peaking your amusement level.
a bomb on a plane
these people hoarded like cattle comforting screaming babys and novels staring straight ahead in the panic the stewardess is desperate she is shouting at the standing those who demand their extra inches of space first in the queue packed in tomato sauce sardines with a bomb
none of the cattle stand a chance the babys maintain their crying vigil the upper class take comfort in their space and their upgrade in the event of anything untoward they will proceed toward the nearest exit in a dignified fashion holiday makers at the end of the trip tanned consumers with duty free remember their experiences as best they can before it is too late maKE peace with the world taking your seat on the plane on this last flight out of new york this evening there is a bomb children and families first please
excuse me have i got the window seat i asked for i have to be able to see the ground which is C?
neatly designed hand luggage cattle herded to slaughter they hold their bags up and inch forward
bright gay colours appear sad and grey in the pressurised cabin the feed is reheated
=== I really did like that when I found it. More stuff:
.....the waterfall of gadgets family cars and paperback books.
irrelevant struggles
"as specific causes of disease disappear, a growing proportion of people die of what are called stress diseases, or diseases of degeneration caused by stress, that is, by the wear and tear resulting from conflicts, shocks, nervous tension, frustration, bilitating rhythms.."
that's real life. my everyday life.
What about this feeling of never really being inside your own skin?
Let nobody say these are minor details or secondary points. There are no negligible irritations: gangrene can start in the slightest graze. A man carried along by the crowd, which only e can see, suddenly screams out in an attempt to break the spell, to call himself back to himself, to get back inside his own skin. The tacit acknowledgments, fixed smiles, lifeless words, listlessness and humiliation sprinkled in his path suddenly sur into him, driving him out if his desires and his dreams and exploding the illusion of being together. People touch without meeting; isolation accumulates but is never realised; emptiness overcomes us as the destiny of the crowd gathers. the crowd drags e out of myself and installs thousands of little sacrifices in my empty presence......
after Raoul Vanegeim the revolution of everyday life
=== It's an interesting one. Sur.
One rainy day whilst out shopping for groceries, I am surrounded by a growing crowd who are under the impression that I can fly. It seems that a dreadful mistake has been made: the local paper has printed an article about a gentleman who really does have this enviable talent, but they have put my photograph above the article. I am unsure about how the newspaper came to have a picture of me, but that is the least of my worries, faced, as I am, with this heckling crowd of strangers. I protest, but the crowd will give no quarter until I show them my incredible powers. At last, I give in to them, and stand, flapping my arms and jumping as high as I can into the damp air. This goes on for some time, and I become increasingly frightened that the now disenchanted crowd will attack me, believing me to be a self-promoting charlatan. But in the end they straggle off, muttering. Thanking my lucky stars, I rush home, too upset to continue my shopping. That evening, alone, I once again try to fly. It proves to be a futile exercise, but addictive. Night after night I stand on my roof, flapping my arms and making small jumps on the tiles.
Try as I might, I never manage to get airborne.
===
SlEeP geEEntly we award you}with a?medal. a med>al of a=hhonor we hope yyou like itT (pointless counter)
(point>less cou77nter)