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349
The Journal of a Disappointed Man
·
W. N. P. Barbellion
151
"There's
a
beautiful
young
thing,"
R----
and
I
say
to
one
another
sardonically,
hoping
thereby
to
conceal
the
canker
within.
I
could
gnash
my
teeth
and
weep
in
anger--baulked,
frustrated
as
I
am
at
almost
every
turn
of
life--in
my
profession,
in
my
literary
efforts,
and
in
my
love
of
man
and
woman
kind.
I
would
utter
a
whole
commination
service
in
my
present
state
of
mind.
October
7.
To
me
woman
is
the
wonderful
fact
of
existence.
If
there
be
any
next
world
and
it
be
as
I
hope
it
is,
a
jolly
gossiping
place,
with
people
standing
around
the
mantelpiece
and
discussing
their
earthly
experiences,
I
shall
thump
my
fist
on
the
table
as
my
friends
turn
to
me
on
entering
and
exclaim
in
a
loud
voice,
"WOMAN."
October
11.
Since
I
grew
up
I
have
wept
three
times.
The
first
time
they
were
tears
of
exasperation.
Dad
and
I
were
sitting
down
side
by
side
after
a
wordy
combat
in
which
he
had
remained
adamant
and
I
was
forced
both
by
conscience
and
argument
to
give
in,
to
relinquish
my
dissections,
and
go
off
to
some
inquest
on
a
drowning
fatality.
The
second
time
was
when
Mother
died,
and
the
third
was
to-day.
But
I
am
calm
now.
To-day
they
were
tears
of
remorse....
On
occasion
bald
confession
in
this
Journal
is
sweet
for
the
soul
and
strengthens
it.
It
gives
me
a
kind
of
false
backbone
to
communicate
my
secrets:
for
I
am
determined
that
some
day
some
one
shall
know.
If
God
really
intervenes
in
our
affairs,
here
is
an
opportunity.
Let
Him
save
me.
I
challenge
Him
to
save
me
from
perishing
in
this
ditch....
It
is
not
often
I
am
cornered
into
praying
but
I
did
this
morning,
for
I
feel
defeated
this
day,
and
almost
inarticulate
in
my
misery.
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