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349
The Journal of a Disappointed Man
·
W. N. P. Barbellion
85
"Sounds
like
a
book,"
She
said
in
contempt.
It
was--Oscar
Wilde!
P----
insisted
on
my
taking
a
biscuit.
"Don't
mind
me,"
she
said.
"Just
think
I'm
a
waitress
and
take
no
notice
at
all."
H.:
"Humph!
I
never
see
him
taking
no
notice
of
a
waitress."
(Sneers
and
Curtain.)
February
24.
H----
came
home
last
night
and
told
me
that
she
said
as
he
came
away,
"Tell
W----
I
hate
him."
So
it's
all
right.
I
shall
go
over
to-morrow
again--Hurrah!
My
absence
has
been
felt
then.
March
7.
Came
home,
lay
on
my
bed,
still
dressed,
and
ruminated....
First
a
suspicion
then
a
conviction
came
to
me
that
I
was
a
cad--a
callous,
selfish,
sensation-hunting
cad....
For
the
time
being
the
bottom
was
knocked
out
of
my
smug
self-satisfaction.
For
several
long
half-hours
I
found
myself
drifting
without
compass
or
stars.
I
was
quite
disorientated,
temporarily
thrown
off
the
balance
of
my
amour
propre.
Then
I
got
up,
lit
the
gas
and
looking
at
myself
in
the
mirror,
found
it
was
really
true,--I
was
a
mean
creature,
wholly
absorbed
in
self.
As
an
act
of
contrition,
I
ought
to
have
gone
out
into
the
garden
and
eaten
worms.
But
the
mirror
brought
back
my
self-consciousness
and
I
began
to
crawl
back
into
my
recently
discarded
skin--I
began
to
be
less
loathesome
to
myself.
For
as
soon
as
I
felt
interested
or
amused
or
curious
over
the
fact
that
I
had
been
really
loathesome
to
myself
I
began
to
regain
my
equilibrium.
Now,
I
and
myself
are
on
comparatively
easy
terms
with
one
another.
I
am
settled
on
the
old
swivel....
I
take
a
lot
of
knocking
off
it
and
if
shot
off
soon
return.
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