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349
The Journal of a Disappointed Man
·
W. N. P. Barbellion
205
March
25.
Often
in
the
middle
of
a
quite
vivid
ten
seconds
of
life,
I
find
I
have
switched
myself
off
from
myself
to
make
room
for
the
person
of
a
disinterested
and
usually
vulgar
spectator.
Even
in
the
thrill
of
a
devotional
kiss
I
have
overheard
myself
saying,
"Hot
stuff,
this
witch."
Or
in
a
room
full
of
agreeable
and
pleasant
people,
while
I
am
being
as
agreeable
as
I
know
how,
comes
the
whisper
in
a
cynical
tone,
"These
damned
women."
I
am
apparently
a
triple
personality:
(1)
The
respectable
youth.
(2)
The
foul-mouthed
commentator
and
critic.
(3)
The
real
but
unknown
I.
Curious
that
these
three
should
live
together
amiably
in
the
same
tenement!
In
a
Crowd
A
crowd
makes
egotists
of
us
all.
Most
men
find
it
repugnant
to
them
to
submerge
themselves
in
a
sea
of
their
fellows.
A
silent,
listening
crowd
is
potentially
full
of
commotion.
Some
poor
devils
suffocating
and
unable
any
longer
to
bear
the
strain
will
shout,
"Bravo,"
or
"Hear,
hear,"
at
every
opportunity.
At
the
feeblest
joke
we
all
laugh
loudly,
welcoming
this
means
of
self-survival.
Hence
the
success
of
the
Salvation
Army.
To
be
preached
at
and
prayed
for
in
the
mass
for
long
on
end
is
what
human
nature
can't
endure
in
silence
and
a
good
deal
of
self
can
be
smuggled
by
an
experienced
Salvationist
into
"Alleluia"
or
"The
Lord
be
praised."
Naming
Cockroaches
I
had
to
determine
the
names
of
some
exotic
cockroaches
to-day
and
finding
it
very
difficult
and
dull
raised
a
weak
smile
in
two
enthusiasts
who
know
them
as
"Blattids"
by
rechristening
them
with
great
frivolity,
"Fat
'eds."
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