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The eighth 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.





Sun 04/07/2004



1.



11:15am … 11:18am  ‘JuiceBar’-girl busted me studying this morning, and acknowledged my early arrival. Now that she knows I’m studying literature, I might as well give her the link to my PostPoems profile. I guess I just feel compelled to share my shopping centre diaries with at least one person who’s witnessed me writing them. I better not write any crude fantasies about her then. :op She’s kind and cute; she gave me a free orange juice yesterday! ;o)



A projectile from above just hit my desk. Not sure what it was. Yesterday I copped an ice-cube, on Friday it was a folded up ‘Wendy’s’ ice cream wrapper and a couple of small rubber bouncing balls. Like I mentioned previously, I’m vulnerable to aerial attacks from nasty children. Lucky for me they can’t aim very well. That ice cube sure woulda hurt if it had hit my skull.



Started a ‘new’ writing book today. It was once intended as a log-book for all my expenses relating to M**, but I became too lazy and complacent after six weeks… I felt it was enough to exemplify an ‘average’ week in case I would ever need to present such evidence. Let’s hope it never gets to this, but my sister thought it would be wise of me to keep a log-book. You never know which way K***’ll turn next…



11:40am  ‘Back-pack Man’ just marched past me, in the same light blue Adidas tracksuit pants, Adidas Roma runners, grey t-shirt and blue jacket, that he wears every day. On his back he carries a blue back-pack, filled with God knows what, and on his head there is always a set of headphones. He is frequently holding a CD case, sometimes with both hands, as he struts past in a quick, accelerated pace, as if engaged in an important mission. He must walk past me a dozen times every day. At first I though he might be a drug-runner, then I pondered the idea of professional shop-lifter, out filling his daily orders. But something in his



2.



…seemingly random manner told me he wasn’t capable of such self-organisation. I asked the girls in the ‘Juice Bar’ about him yesterday, and they just laughed, pointing out that they think he’s “just not quite there”, doing the circular head-pointing ‘crazy’ gesture as they spoke. They also informed me that the bearded, ‘vertically challenged’, bloke is “another one”. How many insane mascots does this complex have? What draws them to this place? Chaos? The random movement of large consumer crowds? Is this where they feel at ‘peace’? Where their minds no longer feel out of place? Schizophrenia, mollified by the even crazier atmosphere of an enormous consumer Mecca.



Fuck I’m hungry… might break for lunch… 11:59am



12:11pm  Back already… must be my quickest break ever. Just no fun walking around shopping centres when you’re broke. Saw a funny thing at the urinal… a young boy was taking a piss, but had pulled his pants and undies right down to his ankles. And to think his older brother was right next to him! He should teach his younger brother how to be more discreet when you piss at urinals.



12:54pm  Somebody just told me that the bass Coast Resort project had been scrapped, and that they were surprised to see me sitting here, promoting it. I sent an sms to K****, asking if this was true, to which she replied “not that I’m aware of”. And just now a woman enquired about the location of the developments, only to storm off, angrily remarking “Christ! They’re gonna ruin that as well?” I had a feeling this kind of development would anger environmentalists. Sitting here has suddenly become a conflict of interest for me.



3.



13:12pm  So very, very bored… and so very, very tired. Thank fuckers I get a nine-day break after this shift. Miss Cute from the ‘Juice Bar’ just gave me a few medicine cup-sized samples of juice. One was Mango, the other Pineapple… I had two of each. She said she likes Pineapple the best. I like her.



Been giving the CD player a break today, as I’m down to my last few batteries, with only $1.30 to my name until pay day, whenever that is.



There goes ‘back-pack man’ again… haven’t spotted the crazy dwarf yet. This is getting menial. Might read some more of “The Remains of the Day”.



13:50pm  Some fat, bald crazy fucker just harassed me. By ‘harassed’ I mean attempted to strike up a conversation. But he was crazy. His speech was almost undecipherable, but from what I could make out he was a divorced computer geek. “I’m into computers. Love ‘em. Got more brains than most women. I used to be married. Not anymore. Can’t trust the bitches…” on and on he went, an endless eruption of pointless statements. What do you say to a crazy, sexist fucker like that? “Fuck off you dopey cunt, your mere presence is offending my ‘dignity’.”? No, like Stevens in “The Remains of the Day”, I kept a ‘dignity in keeping with his position’ and just maintained a fake gentle smile and nodded every now and then. I don’t think C******* would be too happy with me if I engaged in a battle of wits with insane members of the public, whilst on duty, representing them. Take a long hard look at yourself mate! You are a fat, bald chauvinist who “loves” computers. Gees, I wonder who broke off the marriage… Please, anybody and everybody, if I should ever deteriorate into such a state – please shoot me!



4.



14:45pm  Back-Pack Man returns! Perhaps he just OD’d on acid one fateful night, and is one of those freakazoids who’s on a permanent trip? He walks with his forearms bent forward, knuckles facing the ceiling, like a classic 50’s movie-monster stance. It certainly adds another dimension to his dementia. This is also how he carries the CD case, when indeed his random ways choose to carry it.



15:40pm  I asked earlier about the number of ‘insane mascots’ that this complex may contain, failing to recognise that I, myself, may be one of them. I may not venture here on a daily basis but the many volumes of pointless dribble, that have been produced here at Southland, surely and undeniably puts me into this category. I’m delirious. I need to go home and sleep… for three days!



U** informed me the other night that he’s been saving AUD$**** per month while he’s been in Nigeria. He’s been there for three years, so that mean he’s saved almost *** ******* ******** dollars in this period. Not a bad prospect eh?



16:16pm Well I’ve done it now… just promised Miss Cutie Pie from the ‘Juice Bar’, on her last round of free juice sample distribution, that I ‘have something’ for her. The ‘something’ in question is a small piece of paper with my PostPoems profile address, also stating a promise of posting the “Southland Diaries” by the end of the week. May have been a silly move, seeing I have to come back here for another week of work. Ah well… we only live once! ;o) Severe embarrassment can only make me stronger. Besides, I like experiencing everything in its extremities, even embarrassment! :o)



Well, I think I’ll leave the diary writing be until then. Adios amigos!