tales from an ordinary world
1999-07-18
Sitting quietly outside the only café in my part of Glenhuntly Rd that's open on a Sunday, some kid comes up and asks if I can spare a smoke. Yeah, here you go. He sits down and we make random sporadic conversation. He's a bit short on cash, he tells me. Heroin, you know. It's either that or a job. Gotta kick the habit first. We chat about a few other random things, I buy him a coffee (hell, I was having one anyway) and we part company. I can't say we really hit it off, but he seemed ok enough.
Still, it makes me wonder about the Bigger PictureTM. I often end up talking to and sometimes becoming friends with all sorts of odd people, for reasons which escape me. I'm not complaining - quite the opposite. But how does it happen ? Tom and the whole 3MU thing are another fine example of this phenomenon. I mean, in all these cases, I never really feel like I'm their type. Of course, I don't really know whose type I am - all these different groups of friends I have - it's hard to lay claim to one particular group and say "yeah, that's what I am". Am I greater than the sum of my parts ?
