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349
The Journal of a Disappointed Man
·
W. N. P. Barbellion
34
June
10.
Legginess
is
bad
enough
in
a
woman,
but
bandy
legginess
is
impossible.
Solitude
is
good
for
the
soul.
After
an
hour
of
it,
I
feel
as
lofty
and
imperial
as
Marcus
Aurelius.
The
best
girl
in
the
best
dress
immediately
looks
disreputable
if
her
stockings
be
downgyved.
Some
old
people
on
reaching
a
certain
age
go
on
living
out
of
habit--a
bad
habit
too.
How
much
I
can
learn
of
a
stranger
by
his
laugh.
Bees,
Poppies,
and
Swallows!--and
all
they
mean
to
him
who
really
knows
them!
Or
a
White
Gull
on
a
piece
of
floating
timber,
or
a
troop
of
shiny
Rooks
close
on
the
heels
of
a
ploughman
on
a
sunny
autumn
day.
June
30.
My
egoism
appals
me.
Likewise
the
extreme
intensification
of
the
consciousness
of
myself.
Whenever
I
walk
down
the
High
Street
on
a
market
day,
my
self-consciousness
magnifies
my
proportions
to
the
size
of
a
Gulliver--so
that
it
is
grievous
to
reflect
that
in
spite
of
that
the
townsfolk
see
me
only
as
an
insignificant
bourgeois
youth
who
reports
meetings
in
shorthand.
July
17.
We
sang
to-night
in
Church,
"But
when
I
know
Thee
as
Thou
art,
I'll
praise
Thee
as
I
ought."
Exactly!
Till
then,
farewell.
We
are
a
great
little
people,
we
humans.
If
there
be
no
next
world,
still
the
Spirit
of
Man
will
have
lived
and
uttered
its
protest.
July
22.
Our
Simian
Ancestry
How
I
hate
the
man
who
talks
about
the
"brute
creation,"
with
an
ugly
emphasis
on
brute.
Only
Christians
are
capable
of
it.
As
for
me,
I
am
proud
of
my
close
kinship
with
other
animals.
I
take
a
jealous
pride
in
my
Simian
ancestry.
I
like
to
think
that
I
was
once
a
magnificent
hairy
fellow
living
in
the
trees
and
that
my
frame
has
come
down
through
geological
time
via
sea
jelly
and
worms
and
Amphioxus,
Fish,
Dinosaurs,
and
Apes.
Who
would
exchange
these
for
the
pallid
couple
in
the
Garden
of
Eden?
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