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349
The Journal of a Disappointed Man
·
W. N. P. Barbellion
174
"Your
pulpit
orations,
my
dear
Barbellion,
in
full
canonicals,"
he
reflected,
"are
worthy
of
a
larger
audience....
To
find
you
of
all
people
preaching.
I
thought
you
were
philosopher
enough
to
see
the
angle
of
every
one's
vision
and
broadminded
so
as
to
see
every
point
of
view.
Besides,
you
are
as
afraid
of
marriage
as
I
am,
and
for
the
same
reasons."
"I
confess,
when
in
the
philosophic
citadel
of
my
own
armchair,"
I
began,
"I
do
see
every
one's
point
of
view.
You
sit
on
the
other
side
of
the
rug
and
put
out
the
suggestion
tentatively
that
murder
may
be
a
moral
act.
I
examine
your
argument
and
am
disposed
to
accept
it.
But
when
you
slit
up
my
brother's
abdomen
before
my
eyes,
I
am
sufficiently
weak
and
human
to
punch
you
on
the
nose....
You
are
too
cold
and
Olympian,
up
above
the
snowline
with
a
box
of
paints."
"It
is
very
beautiful
among
the
snows."
"I
suppose
so."
(Exit.)
November
23.
Great
physical
languor,
especially
in
the
morning.
It
is
Calvary
to
get
out
of
bed
and
shoulder
the
day's
burden.
"What's
been
the
matter?"
they
ask.
"Oh!
senile
decay--general
histolysis
of
the
tissues,"
I
say,
fencing.
To-night,
I
looked
at
myself
accidentally
in
the
glass
and
noticed
at
once
the
alarming
extent
of
my
dejection.
Quite
unconsciously
I
turned
my
head
away
and
shook
it,
making
the
noise
with
my
teeth
and
tongue
which
means,
"Dear,
dear."
M----
tells
me
these
waves
of
ill-health
are
quite
unaccountable
unless
I
were
"leading
a
dissolute
life,
which
you
do
not
appear
to
be
doing."
Damn
his
eyes.
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