There's a Mad Hatters tea party on, Megs, Ben and I head there in the van. The party is at a massive warehouse with an upstairs living area, downstairs being home to two art studios and a band room. I have no trouble meeting new people, talking to them, I dont feel like an outsider, or worried. Getting along is easy, everyone has something to say. We eat and drink and be merry!

I meet Martina, she makes holograms. I also meet Mike, Gus and Dave, who play in a band called 'Battlesnake'; and a charming british type who makes me a sequence of bloody marys. I have no trouble remembering everyone's name.

As the day draws on more people show up, I hear a bass line and follow it downstairs to the band room. I walk in and after watching for a few minutes I ask to join in and the band hesitantly agrees. But i'm on a roll and catch the wave perfectly, before we know it we're having a progressive psychedlia jam. We smile at each other and play on while a blunt gets passed around. The jam finishes and I head upstairs.

"Hey man! cool jam! What's your name?!" the bass player asks.

"Pablo, what's yours?"

His name is Simo. I ask him if he knows anyone who wants to form a band.

"I may know just the person" and he takes my number.

We and a few others chat about how nice a time we've all had in Melbourne as M&M's get thrown about for fun. We go in to eat Henrys well labored lamb and Martinas much loved charcoal potato bits. Ben's crazy friend Caroline entertains me for the night, she's hilarious. We make fun of the dancing students across the road and of anything else we can think of.

Next up is a gig in the city. Caroline, Ben and I wave everyone goodbye. The gig is in the city but easy to get to thanks to the Tram. It's at Hells Kitchen, a small upstairs establishment, in a stylishly seedy alleyway in what looks like a cross between chinatown and New York city. People are relaxed and smoking indoors! The band is average but the drummer is good. I complain about the small beers but everything is funny and we leave the strums of an acoustic soloist dressed in a suit.

To another party at a pub where I run into Zoe, a girl i'd met a the tea party earlier. I kind of like her. She's traveled, and she's got a cute bookish thing going on but with fiery eyes and loud attire. I talk to her and Corrine about how good it's been. I go to buy a beer.

"A New please!"

The waitress looks at me with disdain..

"You're in Melbourne now buddy, No New here. Coopers or Draught only"

"OH! I'll take a Coopers!"

Zoe is going to funk dancing at another club, I like her and will go. The others leave us and we enter inside to dance. Zoe dances like a maniac. Like a demon possessed. I try to keep up but after a few hours I hit the wall. I feel like leaving. Zoe wants to dance a little more. So I wait then we leave together.

Drunken courage and fatalism dont mix. I ask Zoe out.

She replies something in the negatory, along the lines of not going out with anyone. I feel like an idiot but go with it.

"What do you mean by going out, anyway?"

"You know.. like gosh, we're not gonna have children, sheez, you know like go out, i think you're cool and im on a good run, why not?" I reply.

"Well I only go out with idiots who I hate, and I like you, so you're already off to a bad start" she informs me.

Our Taxi comes. I don't push the issue but babble on about it. We hold hands for the Taxi ride. I pre emptively call on my stop and jump out after a quick kiss, to save myself some dignity.

I hit my head against the wall and walk home.

The house is all I could hope for, water is recycled, the food is organic and delicious, two chickens roam free and the vegie gardens grow and grow. The kitchen is a makeshift Italian diner called Ginos. Textas and paper are scattered throughout to catch any sudden inspirations.

First things first, its my second morning and off to Centrelink I go to sign up to the cursed system that will sustain me for my sabbatical. I couldn't really complain, and I feel no guilt in taking money from a government that has no problem squandering millions in unnecessary wars. I could further justify this lack of guilt with my belief that I am a productive member of this society and have worked my ass off for a time now. To be an artist and spend time growing as a person deserves no less attention than that of busting your balls for an overseas corporation.

Checking my bank balance I am shocked to find a payout of... $3000?! I take a deep breath.. "I have $3000?".... I ask myself. As the shock subsides I quickly check my records.. Correct.. $3000 had just been deposited in my bank account as a work payout. Holy Slack! This is too good.. I smile to myself, quietly gloating and leave the office.. up the road to discuss investments with ANZ and then to lunch with Ben at the A1, the finest of arab diners with delicious pizzas for only three dollars.

We meet a slightly mad friend of Bens, blue shirt and black dredds, his name is Jon. After talking about his diaretic cat named Jesus he take us back to his house to experience this wonder for ourselves.

His house is lined with surreal art, and girls doll figurines mutated into freakish centipede like abhorrations. I realize that I recognize this art.. his structures have been on magazines. He smiles and shows us the rest of his art, his name is Jon Beinart and he's composing a book on surreal art. I am duly impressed. He gives me his card in case I need to score, surreal art or other substances..

Ben and I have made a plan to sneak into a Herbie Hancock tonight, the gig is at the Hamer hall and Ben informs me that at half time we can just walk inside. I trust him and go, feeling positive that we will be able to see this master of Jazz.

We get to the venue and no one to be found, we doubt the half time and hang around discussing our options. A couple come outside for a cigarrette.

"Ask em if they know when half time is" Says Ben

"You ask them"

"Im scared"

"OH OK I'll ask them!" I reply, and head towards the smoking couple.

"Excuse me.. are you guys here to see Herbie Hancock?" I ask sheepishly..

"We are! Would you like a ticket?" Says the red dressed lady, and pulls out a ticket from her handbag, handing it to me.

I instinctively grab it then mutter.. "Uh.. soo...ok.."

"Dont even ask, just take it, go in and enjoy!" She snaps back.

I thank her profusely and run to see Ben. "Dude, you're not going to believe this.." I show him the ticket and smile. Ben laughs, he tells me to go in and tell him when half time is. I hesitantly agree and run inside to be amazed at my position, I am in the front rows of the side box. What luck! I smile to myself and thank Melbourne "You sure are treating me well!".

I wait but halftime never comes. Before I know it a 20 minute jam of Chameleon has been played out and the gig is over. I message Ben who meets me outside. He'd gone on a treasure hunt in the meantime and found a purple candle by the river.

"You got a candle, I saw Herbie Hancock!" I made light of his misfortune, but Ben didn't mind, he was glad I saw Herbie. After all it was me who wanted to see him.

On our way back home through the city we find a small BMX, red and lonely by the side of a phonebox. I scope it out, we discuss its likelihood of being owned by someone, and after deciding its been deserted I run to grab it and we ride off to the tram. BMX 'Stycle' brand in tow..

Home and in bed I can't believe my fortune. $3000, Surreal Artist, Herbie Hancock and a BMX. All in one day. This could easily be called the best day ever.

I arrive in Melbourne after a last minute run to the airport bags flailing and all with Austin in tow. The plane was waiting for me and the hostesses were upset, however I was in and ready for take off.

Ben meets me at the Skybus stop off. He smiles and sits down, we talk about Sydney as we make our way to my new house. Two keys cut and a train ride later we are home. A two story terrace house above a hock shop whose entry was through a gate out the back of Sydney road. How ironic, from Sydney to Sydney road.

I go upstairs to see my room. Slightly disheveled but big and ready to be turned into my place. The room luckily comes with a table and some drawers, all I need to get started.

As Ben and I sit in his room sharing music and stories, playing his toy melodica, Megs my new housemate shows up. She is friendly and easy going. I can tell I will not be uncomfortable in this house and feel a happiness surging through me.

The next few days are spent getting to know the area that is Brunswick. A diverse and multicultural area, filled with shops ranging from Mediterranean food markets, Arab bread stores, second hand clothes and furniture shops, Cafes, Art suppliers and all sorts of other variations throughout.

People are friendly, cars wait as I cross the road. Bike lanes line the streets. Trams come frequently and on time. Time goes slower, the difference from Sydney is marked. I smile and take a deep breath of appreciation.