A Quote by Jane Siberry

Since the music industry cracked and fell apart, gasping for the cash flow it had come to expect, much re-thinking has been the order of the day. It is a fine time to be a musician. Like walking through Sodom and Gomorrah while it is still smoking, on your way to the next gig.
Maybe [Sodom and Gomorrah] isn't really about homosexuality, but about rape. If the angels had been female, and the men of Sodom said they wanted to 'know' them against their will, would people claim that the story shows heterosexuality is a sin?
If you're doing something like scheduling utility payments to come through your debit card or out of your personal checking account, that's perfectly fine. But there are much safer ways to handle situations with debt collectors. You can send a money order overnight, or wire the cash to them.
Jesus walking on water is an allegory, not fluid mechanics. God destroying the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah is a warning, not a historical battle. Doubting Thomas is an example, not a person. The story of Noah, with all of its scientific and historical impossibilities, can be read the same way.
The short story is so much about inevitability and this feeling that things always had to be this one way, and I wanted the apocalypses to blow that idea apart. I hope it feels that way. I hope the book invites people to read the stories in order and then, if they feel like it, maybe not read them in order the next time.
I don't want to follow the map of what the music industry does because I've already lived the industry and I still live the industry so I already understand how it works. The industry doesn't really like us around anyway once we get older because we know too much so, that's fine - cut us off - and we'll find another way to get it out there.
Most people define themselves by what they do - 'I'm a musician.' Then one day it occurred to me that I'm only a musician when I'm playing music - or writing music, or talking about music. I don't do that 24 hours a day. I'm also a father, a son, a husband, a citizen - I mean, when I go to vote, I'm not thinking of myself as 'a musician.'
Each day when I'm walking with my dog through the damp forest, I'm thinking about the atmosphere, and it often works its way into my next scene somehow.
If God doesn't destroy Hollywood Boulevard, he owes Sodom and Gomorrah an apology.
Port Royal, Jamaica, was built for pirates. The town had a well-protected harbor, corrupt politicians and townsfolk, and a set of ethics that seemed passed down from Sodom and Gomorrah.
I have been in the music industry ever since I was six years old. I have been inspired by so many great artists and of course trying to be original at the same time. I try not to work under boundaries while I'm making music.
When I ran a small IT services business in the 1990s, it had strong recurring revenues - yet I couldn't accurately forecast cash flow for even the next few quarters. Small changes in the customer base or losing/hiring a few key employees could create massive swings in cash flow.
If your gig is not in an office for eight hours a day, its going to be somewhere. If you're a truck driver, you get on a road. If you're a musician, you go to where the people are going to show up and you take the gig. I enjoy it, so I don't and I'm not complaining. Its just the traveling can get to be a bit much.
I've been singing properly every day since I was about fifteen or sixteen, and I have never had any problems with my voice, ever. I've had a sore throat here and there, had a cold and sung through it, but that day it just went while I was onstage in Paris during a radio show. It was literally like someone had pulled a curtain over it.
If it was up to me, I would send the gay community, who insisted on celebrating in Jerusalem, to Sodom and Gomorrah.
And again it snowed, and again the sun came out. In the mornings on the way to the station Franklin counted the new snowmen that had sprung up mysteriously overnight or the old ones that had been stricken with disease and lay cracked apart-a head here, a broken body and three lumps of coal there-and one day he looked up from a piece of snow-colored rice paper and knew he was done. It was as simple as that: you bent over your work night after night, and one day you were done. Snow still lay in dirty streaks on the ground but clusters of yellow-green flowers hung from the sugar maples.
Me and my brother, Illa Noyz. We was smoking weed. A ton of weed. I had a friend who at the time sold weed, and it was just there. And we just smoke and smoke. I think we had about... and remember, this is back in the day, this might have been when niggas were still smoking White Owls.
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