A creature driven and derided by vanity

"Gazing up into the darkness I saw myself as a creature driven and derided by vanity; and my eyes burned with anguish and anger": yeah, a pretty accurate description of me trailing home alone after another failed attempt to "fit in" at some fashionable musical event in Brixton or Sheffield or Nottingham. How did James Joyce, writing Dubliners all those years ago, know so much about me ...?