I had dinner with Tom, at his place. And who said it wouldn't work, him living south side? He cooked for me. It was good too, Tom can some times be a lousy cook. He can't drive and he can't cook, is usually the mantra.
Tom's kidneys are failing from all the chemo he has had. That sometimes happens, you beat the cancer, but your organs are destroyed. Nobody knows, exactly, what is going to happen, right at the moment.
He's says he can't fight any more, ten years of fighting is enough. If this is it, he is giving in. He says he's lived enough in his thirty some thing years. Tom was the quintessential 90's Sydney party boy; tall, blond, buffed, slut, junkie, who was struck down at the height of his mischief. He's pissed off, but he can't fight any more.
It rained all the way over there and all the way back. I like driving in the rain. The world shines.
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