Booty is in the eye of the beholder

Yep – you read that right. Bear with me.

I somehow managed to throw my back out from laughing like a crazed hyena last night – at a bloody meme (or, let’s be honest, its absurdity). Needless to say, I’ve slept next to fuck all and my brain is acting very much like itself. It does what it wants.

So, it should come as no surprise, then, that the very thing that made me see the Kodak moment quality of the scenery in the post’s featured image was a song that’s been stuck in my head all day without me realising it was. I was trapped in a Buffyverse-like demonic musical with no end in sight, with every song derived from the holy grail; the song that continued to escape me, just as I had it on the tip of my tongue. Until the sun ripped through the clouds for approximately 32 seconds, creating the mirage of a slightly silvery shine to the pavement, I had no idea I’d been building up to a Victor Hugo classic.

Have you guessed it yet? Not to worry, you’ll find a link at the bottom of the post if not. Well, the link will be there regardless…

Anyway… went off on a bit of a tangent there. But, if that particular song isn’t a deluxe version of a booty call, I don’t know what is.

I’ve never been fond of metaphors. Never liked the mystery, shall we say – I preferred directness’ more bombastic quality. Yet, as I’ve grown older and more afraid of being caught in a special kind of fuck up loop from which there’s no escape (unless you fancy winding up in a parallel dimension fuck up loop bonanza), it seems I’ve started using them.

“Desperation

Zombie nation

Vacant, lifeless stares

Screens displaying my worst fears“

My own goddamned lyrics, but only I know the meaning of the words I didn’t dare say. This, of course, shall remain a mystery. Unless you read my book, of course.

But, yeah, back to the booty. The term booty, as we know it today – I’m not about to go into a whole thing about its origins – is synonymous to three things; a loot plundered from an enemy (as seen in numerous pirate movies), a somewhat sizeable arse or, you know, that thing. Now, the original expression is ‘beauty is in the eye of the beholder’. I’ll argue that we can gather from any anthropology experiment, that people will have different views on what they will define as either of those three aforementioned definitions as well. In fact, I think beauty in and of itself has lost its meaning, with the constant need to push beauty standards so far up into the atmosphere that you need the help of artificial intelligence to do the airbrushing. So why not say it like it is; what might shiver your timbers may not shiver those of your neighbours.

Ooft, that was a bit of a mouthful.

What do I want from you, you may ask. Why am I ending this post before I’ve even reached a conclusion? Well, I want you to tell me what you want to read about, what you think the booty’s all about, why you think a 40yo woman can’t make herself write the word that’s fallen between the lines here…

Again, buy my book and you might get an idea. Haha. It is very late and I have a sequel to write, as I was ever so gently reminded of earlier today.

Now, I am going to go “live inside my head” for a bit. See you next Tuesday.

*This week, we mourn the loss of the late Anthony Head. May he rest in peace.