Has life ever laid you out on your back, leaving you wondering what the hell just happened? That’s what it could look like. I wish I looked that good when life lays me out. Isn’t persepctive and angle everything when you sit out to do a second take on your life?
Get low, on the ground to be exact. Now twist. I’ve talked before about camera angles and body positioning can do to much to flatter the body, or make it look worse than imagined in real life. I still have not nailed perfect posing and posture and most of what we shoot are throw-aways. You all see about one twentieth-forieth if what we shoot.
I love music, and the songs I listen to can shift my perspective about life’s choices as well. A friend of ours recently referred to listening to Country music as if someone is emotionally dry humping him. I have to agree that it can evoke emotions, as meant to in this tradition of storytelling so close to my heart. Big Band Swing era music tells some pretty risque stories. For the life of me, lover of Country, Big Band, and Southern Rock music, and yet local Rockabilly bands grind on my nerves! Or are they Psychobilly? Sorry guys, I tried listening to one band scheduled to play Mass while processing three photo shoots’ material, and I thought I was going to crawl outta my skin. I cannot stand it to even listen and hear any message. Early Rock-n-Roll ruckus? Noise, irritating noise. I am entirely nervous about having to be around this music twelve hours at Midnight Mass. They ought to have booked Lost Dog Found, in my opinion, but what do I know? I prefer Country and Big Band, Country in particular. Right now, Sam Hunt who may be noted as Southern Rock in the tradition of Colt Ford’s recent fleet, has me squirming in my chair in a different way. Southern Rock in a way that…listen to that sexiness on Spotify and you may get what I’m talking about. I don’t care what the feminists say, chauvinism can be hot. I mean, have you heard Chase Rice‘s “Ready Set Roll”? Raw male honesty best heard off the radio, “Get your little fine ass on the step. Shimmy up inside.” Men I adore in my family would lovingly say similar. I endearingly receive these words and understand the heart behind them. I get it, and goofy as it sounds in those words I hear a message of genuine fondness. Tone or delivery trumps actual words, right? Psychologize or condemn me, but this is one of many oddities driving my life.
I’ve heard tell that a woman reaches her sexual peak at the age of thirty. I must be feeling the climb, because most of those songs on Sam Hunt’s top five should not be that sexy, but I experience them that way and suddenly hear a man’s singing voice on the air waves differently. Never ever moved me before, and I dated a musician. He told me he’d never sing a song for me since his voice was for God, and it didn’t phase me because the fact he had musical talent had nothing to do with my affection for him, to me it was just something he did and whatever don’t bother me talking about it. I’d rather sit with your soul and listen to you talk out your thoughts than take your God song. Keep what is yours, I will not ask for it. Anyway, have other women experienced such a shift at this age? Curious to hear about it, do tell.
MUA: Alyssa Plough
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