Becoming a struggling artist is hard work. Sitting on the verandah, learning to roll cigarettes, I quietly contemplate my future as an infamous artist, infamous for stubbornly asserting new definitions of 'art' and bribing galleries to exhibit pencil sharpeners bought at the newsagent, teaspoons, and live cats. So far, I have the artistic ability of a two year old, but my logic is, two year olds eventually grow up into Picassos. Picassos especially, because I can't draw real stuff so it all has to be under the umbrella of 'abstract'. 'T's'all good. We bought a million canvasas today including a huge one that we're going to get everyone to paint on over the camping trip.  ¶ 17:45