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349
The Journal of a Disappointed Man
·
W. N. P. Barbellion
108
On
nearing
the
village,
L----
arrived,
riding
A----'s
animal
and
holding
his
sides
for
laughing
at
me
as
I
crawled
along
holding
the
carthorse
by
the
bridle.
Got
on
again
and
rode
into
the
Rectory
grounds
in
fine
style
like
a
dashing
cavalier,
every
one
jeering
at
me
from
the
lawn.
September
28.
Having
lived
on
this
planet
now
for
the
space
of
24
years,
I
can
claim
with
some
cogency
that
I
am
qualified
to
express
some
sort
of
opinion
about
it.
I
therefore
hereby
record
that
I
find
myself
in
an
absorbingly
interesting
place
where
I
live,
move
and
have
my
being,
dominated
by
one
monstrous
feature
above
all
others--the
mystery
of
it
all!
Everything
is
so
astonishing,
my
own
existence
so
incredible!
Nothing
explains
itself.
Every
one
is
dumb.
It
is
like
walking
about
at
a
masqued
Ball....
Even
I
myself
am
a
mystery
to
me.
How
wonderful
and
frightening
that
is--to
feel
yourself--your
innermost
and
most
substantial
possession
to
be
a
mystery,
incomprehensible.
I
look
at
myself
in
the
mirror
and
mock
at
myself.
On
some
days
I
am
to
myself
as
strange
and
unfamiliar
as
a
Pterodactyl.
There
is
a
certain
grim
humour
in
finding
myself
here
possessed
of
a
perfectly
arbitrary
arrangement
of
lineaments
when
I
never
asked
to
be
here
and
never
selected
my
own
attributes.
To
the
dignity
of
a
human
being
it
seems
like
a
coarse
practical
joke....
My
own
freakish
physique
is
certainly
a
joke.
October
4.
In
London
Again
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