The Journal of a Disappointed Man

October 28. Rigor Bordis Rigor bordis!--I write like this as if it were a light matter. But to-night I was in extremis.... First I read the paper; then I finished the book I was reading--"Thus Spake Zarathustra." Not knowing quite what next to do, I took my boots off and poured out another cup of coffee. But these manœuvres were only the feeble attempts of a cowardly wretch to evade the main issue which was:-- How to occupy myself and keep myself sane during the hour and a half before bedtime. Before now I have tried going off to bed. But that does not work--I don't sleep. Moreover, I have been in the grip of a horrible mental unrest. To sit still in my chair, much less to lie in bed doing nothing seemed ghastly. I experienced all the cravings of a dissolute neurotic for a stimulus, but what stimulus I wanted I did not know. Had I known I should have gone and got it. The dipsomaniac was a man to be envied.