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349
The Journal of a Disappointed Man
·
W. N. P. Barbellion
218
S.H.
has
died
of
enteric
at
Malta.
In
writing
to
Mrs.
H.,
instead
of
dwelling
on
what
a
splendid
fellow
he
was
I
belaboured
the
fact
that
I
still
remembered
our
boyish
friendship
in
every
detail
and
still
kept
his
photo
on
my
mantelpiece
and
altho'
"in
later
years"
I
didn't
suppose
we
"had
a
great
deal
in
common
I
discovered
that
a
friendship
even
between
two
small
boys
cannot
wholly
disappear
into
the
void."
Discussing
myself
when
I
ought
to
have
been
praising
him!
Ugh!
She
will
think
what
a
conceited,
puff-breasted
Jackanapes.
These
phrases
have
rankled
in
my
mind
ever
since
I
dropped
the
letter
into
the
letter-box.
"Your
Stanley,
Mrs.
H.,
was
of
course
a
very
inferior
sort
of
person
and
naturally,
you
could
hardly
expect
me
to
remain
friendly
with
him
but
rest
assured
I
hadn't
forgotten
him,"
etc.
The
Luxury
of
Lunacy
Yesterday,
I
read
a
paper
at
the
Zoological
Society
about
lice.
There
was
a
goodly
baldness
of
sconce
and
some
considerable
length
of
beard
present
that
listened
or
appeared
to
listen
to
my
innocent
remarks
with
great
solemnity
and
sapience....
I
badly
wanted
to
tell
them
some
horrid
stories
about
human
lice
but
I
had
not
the
courage.
I
wanted
to
jolt
these
middle-aged
gentlemen
by
performing
a
few
tricks
but
I
am
too
timid
for
such
adventures.
But
before
going
to
sleep
I
imagined
a
pandemonium
in
which
with
a
perfectly
glacial
manner
I
produced
lice
alive
from
my
pockets,
conjured
them
down
from
the
roof
in
a
rain,
with
the
skilful
sleight
of
hand
drew
them
out
of
the
chairman's
beard,
made
the
ladies
scream
as
I
approached,
dared
to
say
they
were
all
lousy
and
unclean
and
finished
up
with
an
eloquent
apostrophe
after
the
manner
of
Thomas
de
Quincey
(and
of
Sir
Walter
Raleigh
before
him)
beginning:
Marker
Marker
Fine marker
White-out
Fine white-out
Circle
Paint
Unmarker
Hand
Scalpel
Dice
Sieve
Purify
Undo
Redo
Start over
