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349
The Journal of a Disappointed Man
·
W. N. P. Barbellion
201
And,
mind
you,
there
are
people
who
have
seen
most
things
but
have
never
seen
themselves
walking
across
the
stage
of
life.
If
someone
shows
them
glimpses
of
themselves
they
will
not
recognise
the
likeness.
How
do
you
walk?
Do
you
know
your
own
idiosyncrasies
of
gait,
manner
of
speech,
etc.?
I
never
cease
to
interest
myself
in
the
Gothic
architecture
of
my
own
fantastic
soul.[1]
March
6.
The
Punch
and
Judy
Show
Spent
a
most
delightful
half-an-hour
to-day
reading
an
account
in
the
Encyclopædia
Britannica
(one
of
my
favourite
books--it's
so
"gey
disconnekkit")
the
history
of
the
Punch
and
Judy
Show.
It's
a
delightful
bit
of
antiquarian
lore
and
delighted
me
the
more
because
it
had
never
occurred
to
me
before
that
it
had
an
ancient
history.
I
am
thoroughly
proud
of
this
recent
acquisition
of
knowledge
and
as
if
it
were
a
valuable
freehold
I
have
been
showing
it
off
saying,
"Rejoice
with
me--see
what
I
have
got
here."
I
fired
it
off
first
in
detail
at
----;
and
H----
and
D----
will
probably
be
my
victims
to-morrow.
After
all,
it
is
a
charming
little
cameo
of
history:
compact,
with
plenty
of
scope
for
conjecture,
theory,
research,
and
just
that
combination
of
all
three
which
would
suit
my
taste
and
capacity
if
I
had
time
for
a
Monograph.
March
22
I
waste
much
time
gaping
and
wondering.
During
a
walk
or
in
a
book
or
in
the
middle
of
an
embrace,
suddenly
I
awake
to
a
stark
amazement
at
everything.
The
bare
fact
of
existence
paralyses
me--holds
my
mind
in
mort-main.
To
be
alive
is
so
incredible
that
all
I
do
is
to
lie
still
and
merely
breathe--like
an
infant
on
its
back
in
a
cot.
It
is
impossible
to
be
interested
in
anything
in
particular
while
overhead
the
sun
shines
or
underneath
my
feet
grows
a
single
blade
of
grass.
"The
things
immediate
to
be
done,"
says
Thoreau,
"I
could
give
them
all
up
to
hear
this
locust
sing."
All
my
energies
become
immobilised,
even
my
self-expression
frustrated.
I
could
not
exactly
master
and
describe
how
I
feel
during
such
moments.
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