beautiful

On the inside and the out, implies soulfulness, in the eyes of the beholder. I've been looking at women approaching 50, to see how they are ageing, and there tends to be a story in there, as much about how they live. A woman alone is not lonely. She may divorce, lose jobs, go through therapy, have children, be childless, but she knows herself and when seasons change, she heads off on her own adventure. 

I had an amusing experience, a story I don't yet know how to interpret. I joined a friend at The Drones, Mess Hall were the support act, last seen at the Annandale, females in the girl's bathroom, singing along mimic style, replicating Jed Kurzel, offspring of Polish migrant parents, long moved on from north of Adelaide. Whilst listening to them, I stood at stage left, recognizing someone from my past, which is to say once I knew them, by sight and by name, now he's a stranger. Dennis Lillee moustache and flannel shirt, half ironic and I wish I could place him, to place my history. 

The pub was full of creme de la creme of grunge hipster educated males, which meant the queue for the men's ran long. My queue was short and sweet, as women with ash blonde hair tinged with grey quickly washed their hands and swiped lip balm. 

I went to the gig with Jess and her significant other, met up with Nathan and partner, I went and watched Mess Hall, got myself a tonic water, rejoined the group and we'd been joined by Rowan, who I was introduced to by Jess, in glowing terms as I shoe gazed, a habit I need to get out of, let compliments sit and sink in. She said I'd written the X plan, and was studying Y and was a talented writer, and it was all nice, and Rowan said something but it was noisy and I couldn't hear, so I said I liked his glow in the dark watch, it would help guide us out of the building if there was a black out, but when everyone looked at his wrist, the watch was turned off, but Rowan, apropos of nothing, said he had a glow in the dark watch and he could be our night guide (or something to that effect). Miscommunication. 

Phew, social awkwardness survived, he went off to join his friend, and Jess explained their status at the same time as loud noise came on, so not being sure if they were a couple, flat mates or BFF, I nodded.  The Drones were in their bubble of ecstatic performance-a tight unit-and admitted to the gang I only saw the singer/band whenever Rowan danced to the right, or swayed to the left, which everyone thought was funny, but left me baffled. He's like Tim, confusing until you know he's like that with everyone.