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The sixth 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.





Fri 02/07/2004



1.



10:50am  Fuck! Too much caffeine! Too many dexters! Gotta go take a shit! Busting! I’ll be back!



Ahh! Much better… now I can proceed with my daily ritual of pointless note-taking. I brought my own seat cushion today! :o)



They moved my desk around today, so that I am susceptible to two overhead levels of aerial bombardment by mischievous children. I just hope they don’t spit on me. I smell. I should’ve bought some deodorant when I picked up the mouth-fresheners this morning. Hmm… perhaps I should run and get some now. I mean, it has to be pretty bad when your own smell stinks. I need new shoes. Too many wet outdoor stomps have rendered most of the pairs that I have in my possession smelly beyond repair. No odour-eaters will salvage these wrecks baby! I have to get at least one new pair for the flight. Out of courtesy for the passengers in my immediate vicinity.



Had another of those drink-and-no-sleep nights… Well, I did get two hours, but that was only just enough to sober me up, and hardly counts as restful sleep in any sense. Dexters do amazing things for your hang overs. This morning my eyes looked like a couple of squished tomatoes… now they’re not so bad! ;o) (although I could have sworn I detected a size differentiation from my right and left pupils when I washed my hands a short while ago – which, if detected, must look MUCH worse to a by passer… at least having alcohol-induced blood shot eyes is legal)



I was late today, so I have to work late. I don’t mind. I’m looking forward to the 5-7pm after-work rush. Should provide a splendid perv! :o)



2.



11:25am  Almost out of yet another note-book. How many will that make it? I think the ink is beginning to fade in those early school ‘exercise’ books that I used to record all my thoughts and song lyrics in, way back in 1986-87, when I first began writing like this.



Track 3 of the ‘Talamasca’ collection I burnt last night is a killer song! Must remember to get the name of it… Going berserk with mp3 downloads in preparation for the trip… did I already mention this? Err… I think so… more short-term memory loss. Not such a bad thing when you think about it. Imagine getting the same first-time thrills when you bungee jumped? After my first jump I was high on adrenalin all night. The second time I felt almost nothing. I’d gladly forget any memory I have of either experience and go do it all again, for the very “first” time.

I think the same can be said about being “in love”. The more relationship failures we experience, the less thrilled we’ll be at each subsequent instance of falling ‘in love’, if, indeed, we are still capable of doing so.

Fear of loneliness, by far, outweighs true love, as the pivotal cause of most relationships.

I think the above statement is worthy of being written on one of Tyler’s dollar bills (in “Shampoo Planet”) and I would have begun my own money-note-writing spree, if only Australia didn’t use plastic money. They’re kinda hard to write on with regular ink. And I’m not going to the newsagent just to buy a special pen for this purpose… at least not today.



11:51am  Still no ‘customers’. And to think I’m so fucking exposed here. Right in the middle of the complex, where two levels of consumers can look down upon my promotion desk. I practically have centre stage here (the actual complex stage is right next to me – you know, the ones that have those kiddie



3.



…stage shows. I saw ‘Action Man’ perform at the Eastland stage, last year, with M**).



12:00pm  I have no dignity… just picked my nose… I don’t even care if anybody’s looking at me anymore. I’ve become immune to self-consciousness. I don’t even feel like I am physically here. It feels more like I’m watching a very long and boring television infomercial, only without the luxury of a sofa lounge. Or a remote control.



If I had a ‘remote control’ to change my scenery, I’d switch the ‘Brewster’s fine Poultry and Produce’ store directly in front of me to a hip, women’s clothing store. ;o)

Track 4 – the one I could mix Tandu’s “New Aura” into the middle part.

Track 7 – another kick-ass stomper. Love the psy-trance which incorporates fat and heavy guitar riffs… especially when I’m peaking on the dance ‘floor’ at outdoor raves! ;o) Speaking of which, I hope I get Sunday off. Better send T**** a message…

Track 8 – excellent freakaroidy factor – good track for the post-peak early morning hours of scattered thoughts. Fuck! It’s not quite complete… will have to download it again.



12:36pm  First ‘customer’ for the day.



12:48pm  Eyelid-pains are beginning to kick in… another dexter? Perhaps… I’ll hold off for another while yet.



Where’s the remote? I want to change the channel!



4.



18:20pm  Yep… still here. True to my word. I’m even going to stay right up until seven o’clock, because I desperately want one more person to sign up, so that I might get to sleep in on my next Friday shift, due to it having been moved forward based on consumer patterns I have so diligently recorded today. If I get one more name, it will mean that 2/5 of today’s lead generation (for that is essentially what I do) occurred after 5:30pm, my supposed departure time. That should be enough evidence to convince the client that they would be better served by having me here from 11:30am-8:00pm. I just wanna fucken sleep in! Sick of having to get up at 6am… my body clock just doesn’t agree with this shit…



Well… only half an hour to go… ¼ aint that impressive, is it? If that’s the figure I’m forced to put forward than I’ll just adopt the “nobody signed up before midday” stance. Either way, I shall succeed. I can be very persuasive ya know! ;o) I once convinced my line-manager at E******* to allow me to undertake a self-assessed sleep-study for two weeks, on the recommendations of my specialist. This might not seem like much of an accomplishment, but when you take into account the nature of the study, and the jealous resentment it would generate amongst my fellow employees, it was quite a feat indeed. I’d been ordered, by the sleep disorder specialist, to record my natural sleeping pattern over a two-week period. And so I did, unplugging my alarm clock at the commencement and proceeded to stay up every night until 4 or 5am, and sleeping in until noon, like I naturally do. ;o) Best holiday I ever had. I never took my observations back



5.

…to the specialist. Having had the best two stress-relieved and sleep-filled weeks in a long, long time, I felt there was no need. I felt ‘cured’. I was wrong, of course, but it wasn’t long after this that our branch was consolidated to overseas branches, and my sleeping disorder was the least of my line-manager’s worries. Everybody was made redundant. I was relieved, anticipating a long and much needed stretch of unhampered and natural sleep. I was a tired bear, going into hibernation. An 18-month hibernation, from which I’ve only recently emerged, slowly stretching my bones with sporadic part-time employment, in preparation for my next long-term relationship with employment. I now feel ready, but it has been a painstaking task to keep the wolves at bay. It’s hard to justify an 18 month slumber, but I disguised myself fairly well, donning the scholar’s robe when the pressures became too daunting for a bum, with no set daily tasks, to cope.



18:54pm  Six more minutes… may as well begin to pack up… damn G***! Why’d he have to call me and ask me to join him for a game of pool tonight? He knows I couldn’t resist… ah well, another 2-hour sleep, followed by an eight-hour shopping centre shift, coming up.



Doubt I’ll make that party on Sat night now… bastards wouldn’t give me Sunday off, and I’m just too old to do this three nights in a row… ah well, fuck it! Adios.