Oct
2006.
I had a dream a week ago that I put a sock on my hand in the middle of a gig
and was suddenly turned into a potty mouth, offensive, but pretty good singer
named Ninna. Beside and behind me were incredible musicians playing exactly what
should be whil'st improvising and of course wearing lip liner. The next night,
I dreamed there was another sock but she really looked like a camel with us named
Gorbachov who far out did Ninna in profanity and wow could she sing. The next
night I dreamed I was picking my nose and pretending to be a movie star undercover
while singing about a colon, and accompanied by Chet Baker like smooth trumpet.
Then the next night I dream I'm hugging ODETTA after opening for her and feeling
like I got a lot to learn but want to. The next night I dreamt I was in Vancouver
and then Victoria and Edmonton and Calgary, and laughing hysterically while playing
live with Bougie and then betting and losing on breakfast. The next night i'm
looking at the Eiffel Tower and eating a croissant, then sitting in a pub playing
by a fireplace with a British accent. The next night I'm dreaming were recording
all together in a circle with a dog named Bob beside us chewing on a yogurt container.
Oh wait these wern't dreams. Where am I going with all of this? It seems I'm
filled with theatrics these days. Am I a singer/songwriter? Hmm. I'm singing
and I'm writing, and I guess doing a bunch of other things too but loving performing.
I am having a blast exploring these characters, even finding Ronley a little
too. I think tonight I'm going to dream about eating hot and sour soup and finally
writing this latest reflection or shall we say "Blog".
Until next BLLOOOG,
Thank you for listening.
May
06.
The Real Bio
Current mood: nerdy
O.k so i've been reading
alot of bios lately as i peruse the world
at myspace. It's amazing how many people
have opened for or shared the stage with
or screwed that or ate the same thing as "bigname
enter here" But what about the real
story the story behind the artists upbringing
the VH1 special the the "Making of".
So I called my PR person Yelnor Repet and
said "my bios crap", please write
the truth the whole truth.
So this is my real bio...
Some years ago Ronley was
cut out of her mothers belly in a hospital
in South Africa. After years on the bottle,
she learned that she was allergic to milk
and that nobooby could understand her bottle
talk. After moving to Canada, she quickly
learned to assimilate with the help of
the English language. She never forgot
the bottle and began to experiment with
words in both English and Bottle. She is
an experimental storyteller, singer, songwriter,
joker and friend to those who never had
the opportunity to breast feed. She has
toured and will be departing again to countries
and coffees pretty much now.
So it's been a super crazy
couple of months. Spring keeps teasing
as the scents of wormies and colourful
tulips in every Canadian variety stores
front windows possesses.
Ron
-----------
So
it's been a super crazy couple of months.
Spring keeps teasing as the scents of wormies
and colourful tulips in every Canadian
variety stores front windows possesses.
Some gossip for ya...
I recently moved to Chinatown and purchased
my first pair of silky slippers. Slipping
away and bringing me back to the days
of littledom when I would dream of Hello
Kitty. And this is where the tale gets
juicy. The other day I was walking and
as I usually do peeked into the windows
of every passing shop or restaurant that
reflected the passerby's in the window.
Low and behold to my utter surprise did
I spot the likes of the famous Ms. Kitty.
She appeared to be sitting happily at
the counter of one of my favourite watering
holes. She was illegally smoking a cigarette
(as us Torontonians no longer can smoke
inside) while knitting an adorable little
sweater and sipping on a long island
ice tea. A multi-tasker she must be.
I really wish I could understand what
she was saying when I went inside and
approached her to ask for her autograph.
She turned to me with a purr and then
a hiss and said "Meox meox meox
meox!". Without a second glance
she turned her furry paws away from me,
and started back up on her little kitty
sweater. Was she just having a bad day?
Did I not greet her with the affection
a kitty should receive? Needless to say,
Hello Kitty was not so great at saying
Hello, and suddenly I became a women.
I'm such a joker... all the best |
