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.