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The Southland Diaries (day 11)



The eleventh day of my ‘real estate promotion guy’ job at the Southland complex. It’s been copied verbatim and has not been altered in any way, hence the grammatical mistakes and poor expression. Each number corresponds to a page in the A4 note book I used to write all this rubbish in.





Sat 17/07/2004

REFLECTION



1.



09:39am

So… this is it eh? The final day of the Southland Diaries… hopefully the end of the ‘real estate promotion guy’ job forever. K**** asked me if my sister was interested in ‘filling in’ for me while I was ‘away’. Yeah right! I’d like to see a narcoleptic like my sis try to endure an eight-hour stretch at a table like this. She can barely go for a 20-minute drive without falling asleep.

Speaking of narcolepsy, I haven’t taken a single dexter in the past week. S**** would be proud of me, if she hadn’t disowned me and was still talking to me. Should known we’d eventually have a falling out… just by looking at that neat, symmetrical fringe! :op



So… has this shopping centre experience taught me anything? Not sure it has ‘taught’ me anything as such, but perhaps it has helped to reinforce a few things. My despise of commercialism for instance. My obvious dislike of having to deal with the not-so-bright members of the community. But this is just looking at the empty half of the glass. In the full half I’ve also had confirmation of my love of observing the innocence in little kids, or the beauty of the female form. It’s also pointed out to me that reading and writing is, indeed, a true passion of mine, and could perhaps be taken that extra step, without too much effort. And it turns out I’m not as perverted as I thought. The last few shifts I’ve barely looked up from my books and note pads. I guess I’d just been deprived and the first few shifts were a visual injection for my primal urges.



2.



I haven’t shaved in over a week. Not taking my hat off either. Nor the headphones. I don’t want to deal with anybody today. Wearing my khaki cargo pants and an old, stained ¾ sleeve t-shirt, looking as anti-sales as possible. I don’t have any fresh literature to indulge in, so I guess this diary entry will be a rather long one. Every day that I “work” here I usually read 100-200 pages of a novel. If I hadn’t gone out and blown so much cash on Thursday night I woulda bought another book today. I have to go and see the girl in the A**** & R********’s bookstore anyway. I did go and see her yesterday with the intention of handing her the web address to these diaries, but since she told me she was working today I thought it could wait. I didn’t want the possibility of having to face her after she’d read the first few entries. I’m such a wuss. Or could it be that I possibly do possess a hint of dignity? Nah… I’m a wuss! :op



10:21am  Hmmm… time to text N*** yet? Would he be out of bed yet? I’ll take my chances…



Message sent --> Rise and shine! Get me outta here! I’m overdosing on all the crass commercialism surrounding me… take me to the forest – now! :op



Don’t think I’ll engage in another sms tennis match. I doubt I have enough credit left for that. Just need to make sure he’s still gonna come & pick me up. Sent a message to G*** earlier to see if he’s got the md yet, but he still hasn’t got back to me. I hate this uncertainty… I want confirmations, then I’ll sit here content for a few more hours. Hopefully somebody jots their name down so I can prove that I was here.



3.



Alcoholic kinda mood… sings the Placebo guy.

I’d make a great rock star. Completed my hotel-trashing apprenticeship back in the early 90’s, mostly at the expense of Sydney hotels, whilst working as a travelling telecommunications installer – the job I’m once again returning to. And being a rock star seems to be an undisputed license for self-abuse; it’s even expected of you. You can drink yourself to oblivion and take every drug under the sun without anybody questioning your existence.



I forgot to bring my webcam with me… I really wanted to have a happy-snap of me sitting here, as a kind of souvenir. Would make a great pic for my next “best of 4-track” CD, whenever I get around to recording all the songs I’ve written in the past five years. Note to self: you MUST buy a portably 8-track recorder with the money you make from the Nigerian trip.



10:58am  I need to take a piss… but I’ll hold off for another CD… then I’ll go for lunch… and visit the A**** & R********’s girl. ;o) I should ask her name while I’m there…



Change my picture, smack my bitch up!  sings the Prodigy bloke…



Message sent --> Wakey wakey, hands off snakey!



Psycho-sematic addict insane!



I’m not addicted to any substances as such… I’m addicted to the feeling of intoxication; a temporary vacation from devastating sobriety. Carefully planned losses of control. I know my limits, and I love stepping across them! ;o) The only people who criticise this lifestyle are people who’ve never tried it.



4.



‘Do you realise what you’re doing to your body?’ they say, with that “Drugs are bad, mmmkay?” mentality of Mr. Mackie, without even having studied human physiology, little less basic chemistry or biology. Ummm… yes, I do know what I’m doing to my body. Probably much more so than you. But hey, enough has been said on this topic, and I can’t be fucked going on about it anymore. Bill Hicks summed it up beautifully, and said everything that needed to be said. It all comes down to personal choice. If you are stupid or weak you’ll turn into a junkie. If you are smart or strong you’ll turn into a recreational user. If you are ignorant, judgemental and self-righteous, you’ll probably never even try drugs and turn into one of those people who publicly denounce drug use, saying ‘drugs are for losers’; without any real knowledge of how they actually affect the brain, or any other knowledge of neurology in general. You’ll be one of those who’s been brainwashed into thinking that drugs and alcohol kills your brain cells, and that there is no way for your brain to compensate their loss. And you’ll probably blurt out all your opposing views, whilst smoking a cigarette; the legal drug which causes more deaths and hospitalizations than ALL other drugs combined, costing millions of tax-payer dollars. Then you’ll wash down your words with your fifth cup of caffeine for the day, popping a couple of Panadol pills for your ‘throbbing headache’, which you seem to have all the time these days. You’ll nibble on your cocoa-based snack, full of preservatives and food colouring, saying you don’t understand how people become ‘addicted’ to drugs. You go home and sit glued in front of your television for a few hours, soaking up all the intelligence-insulting “entertainment” that it dishes out for you. Missing your ‘favourite’ shows will make you highly agitated and aggressive. Well, I could go on and on, but you get the drift. Hypocrisy is so easily disguised when it has the stamp of government approval.



5.



Fuck… just missed a call & it has no number display. Hate that. Hmmm… must’ve been either N*** or G***…



11:46am  Still no name on the list…



Holding the phone in my hand now, so I’ll feel it vibrate at least.



12:36pm  When I pulled out my “Back in 20 minutes” lunch sign earlier I noticed somebody had scribbled on it. Funny I didn’t notice this earlier. “Shocking” it read, and a little further down “Stop destroying the coastline”. I thought about making a new sign but then, hoping that the perpetrator would pass the desk again today, I added my own messages. Under “Shocking” I wrote “Gees, doesn’t take much to shock you huh?”, and under the coastline remark I added “I’m just a hired hand and have nothing to do with the development. It’ll please you to know that I don’t work very hard or take this seriously.”

Then I placed the sign at the front of the desk, as usual…



Fucking G*** rang at lunch and said he’s pulling out tonight. Not only that, he also didn’t get the md… aargh! Typical! Better call N*** and let him know asap… no answer… fuck!



Tonight will probably be a fizzer… that’d be my luck. Last weekend in Australia… spent in front of my computer… getting drunk by myself. It was the discovery of that damn coastline destruction comment that started it all… put a negative vibe onto everything. I should just fuck off early today… on principle. So very, very tired…



6.



13:25pm  I think I’m just gonna look at the floor’s surface reflection in the level fencing’s panels for a while and trance out… I’ve seen enough faces for a lifetime! Or just shut my eyes and sleep… Who cares? It’s my last day right? I may as well do the piss-on-the-desk-and-quit act.



13:41 “Psychological FX” just came on… nobody better bug me for information during its playing, or I’ll get very pissed off indeed. May as well keep my eyes focused on the note pad, avoiding any possible eye-contact. Fuck the babes… this has priority! Hello glass panel! ‘Rewind’



Is it twin day today? Just spotted the third identical pair I’ve seen today…



14:11pm  Still haven’t heard from N***… godammit! What was supposed to be a day of philosophical reflection has now turned into a day of disappointment and anxiety. I’m already mentally planning alternatives for tonight. What else is there to do?



Back-pack man just strolled by… wearing a black t-shirt and blue jeans! I guess he does have more than set of clothes. I guess it’s Saturday after all. Perhaps this is his “going out on the weekend” outfit?



I need a fucking shave… it’s getting to the itchy stage. Where the stubble has begun circling back onto the face…



Oh for fuck’s sake…



14:24pm  Woo hoo! N*** just called & all is well! For the first time today I have a smile on my face. Turns out the slack prick’s been sleeping all day… I shoulda guessed! :op



7.



Oh, and still not a single name to write a report on… it’ll look sus if I don’t get at least one name… I could always ‘borrow’ a couple of names from yesterday’s haul, seeing I forgot to type up my daily report last night. Nah… I’m too honest for that petty lying shit. I’ll just say it as it is and if they think I never turned up then too bad… I have this diary to prove it, and I’m sure N*** (the A**** & R********’s girl) would testify that she saw me today if asked (her name was on a name-tag all along… absent-minded me just never bothered to check… and yes, I haded her the web address at lunchtime! She’s quite cute ya know! ;o)).



14:47pm  The thought of having to type up all this dribble is making me want to ‘wrap it up’. But I just can’t think of what it is that I’m supposed to ‘wrap up’. This has been just another meaningless episode of my life where I traded the freedom of my existence for some dough, working a totally uncreative and uninspiring job. I cringe at the thought of how the ‘other’ promotion guys dealt with enduring this job. I remember seeing that bald guy at Eastland, dressed all business-like, standing – yes standing – next to the desk, as if his services were constantly required. How did he do it? How does anybody do it? I’ve read six or seven novels, written 50-60 pages of dribble and perved at countless young women during my eleven days of being here. Thank fuckers it’s over! I’d say goodbye Peter & Karen, but they’ve been replaced by a “violence against women” ad campaign. I’d say goodbye to the babes on my left and right, but it seems they were just student holiday workers, so they never came back. What can I say goodbye to?



8.



Goodbye restlessness. Goodbye boredom. Goodbye 6am wake-up alarm! Goodbye two and a half hour public transport journey! Goodbye Hiltons… Betts… Dunklings… David Jones… Portmans. Goodbye never ending consumer masses…



15:14pm

Well how about that… Leon… err… already forgot his name, but anyways, Leon somebody just stopped by for a chat. He is the architect of the St. Andrews apartments. Got quite a bit of info from him… he shoulda come by here on day 1. It’s all a bit useless to me now. Still no interest however…



15:32pm  Now… where was I? Saying my goodbyes… Goodbye stupid enquiries. Goodbye back-pack man! (just nodded a hello to him) Goodbye Southland! Goodbye N***!

Next weekend I can say goodbye to the cold and rain as well.



Hello tropical heat! Hello danger!



Goodbye M**… :o(



Goodbye the “Southland Diaries”… stay tuned for the “Nigerian Chronicles” (if I find time for them).



May as well ride out my time with some perving…