1/6/41

One brazen, conceited, decadent, despicable, retrogressive thought for today: I lost myself in a groundless dream, of life in suspension, and third dimension, of my friends and their types—of persons and faces, nameless, only filling spaces—and each one was quite to be expected, where he was—and the picture—which we call “life” or “experience”—was complete—and I saw myself—filling in exactly where I was expected—with no one looking or acting precisely like me. And I liked myself best of all this little group (which was by no means all the world) and I thought how something would be direfully wanting if I were not there.