The Greatest Works of Aleister Crowley. Aleister Crowley

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      Chapter III.

       The Grinding of the Brakes

       Table of Contents

      September Peter and I have had a long, nasty quarrel, and I had to pull his hair for him. It broke one of my nails. I've let them go very long. I don't know when I was manicured last.

      For some reason, they're dry and brittle. I must have them done. I'd send the boy out, but I don't like the idea of a strange girl coming here. One never knows what may go wrong. It doesn't really matter, either. The body is merely a nuisance, and it hurts.

      " So blood wrenches its pain Sardonic through heart and brain."

      I am beginning to hate that horrible poem. It haunts me. I don't know why I should remember it like I do.

      Have I been reading it, I wonder ? Or perhaps it is the incredible access of intellectual power which heroin gives that has improved my memory. Anyhow, the fact is that odd bits of it come swimming into my mind like goldfish darting in and out among streaming seaweed.

      Oh, yes, my quarrel with Cockie. He said we mustn't risk being absolutely short of the suit ; and I must go and get a new supply from Mabel before we ran clean out. I can't help seeing that Cockie is degenerating morally. He ought to be ashamed of himself. He ought to have made proper arrangements for a regular supply instead of relying on me.

      He lies there all the time perfectly useless. He hasn't washed or shaved in a month, and be knows perfectly well that I detest dirt and untidiness. One of the things that attracted me most about him was his being so spruce and well-groomed and alert. He has changed altogether, since we came to London. I feel there is some bad influence at work on him....

      This place is full of vermin. I found what had been annoying me. I think I shall bob my hair. I'm awfully proud of its length, but one must be practical....

      I am lying down for a bit. It was a frightful nuisance getting ready to go out. Cockie nagged and bullied all the time.

      I'm stiff all over, and it seems such waste of time to wash and dress, besides, the irritation of the interruption, and my clothes are impossible. I've been sleeping in them. I wish we'd brought some trunks from the Savoy. No, I don't, it would have been a lot of trouble, and interfered with our heroin honeymoon.

      It's best the way it is. I wish I had Jacqueline here all the same. I need a maid, and she could have gone out and got things. But we both felt that any one at all would be a pill. The old woman doesn't bother us, thank goodness. I'm sure she still thinks we're spies. Bother, what's this ?...

      Damn ! It's a letter from Basil !

      (Note. The original of this letter was destroyed. It is now printed from the carbon copy in the files of Mr. King Lamus. Ed.)

      Dear Unlimitted Lou, -Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law. You will, I am sure, forgive me for boring you with a letter; but you know what a crank I am, and it is my mania just now to collect information about the psychology of people who are trying to advance spiritually in the way we spoke about when you so charmingly dawned on my studio the other morning.

      " Do you find, in particular, that there is any difficulty in calling a halt ? If so, is it not perhaps because you hear on all sides-especially from people quite ignorant of the subject, such as journalists, doctors and parrots

       -that it is in fact impossible to do so ? Of course, I don't doubt that you immediately killed any such 'pernicious suggestion' by a counter-suggestion based on my positive statement, from experience, that people of strong character and high intelligence like yourself and Sir Peter-to whom please give my most cordial Greetings !-were perfectly well able to use these things in moderation as one does soap. "

      " But, apart from this, do you find that the life of a 'Heroine' makes you abnormally 'suggestible ?'

      " As you know, I object to the methods of Coue' and Baudouin. They ask us deliberately to abandon free will and clear mentality for the semi-hypnotic state of the medival peasant ; to return like 'the sow that was washed to her wallowing in the mire' from which we have been extricated by evolution."

      " Now, doesn't waltzing with the Hero's Bride or making Snow Men tend to put you into a state of mind which is too dreamy to resist the action of any strenuous idea which is presented to it strongly enough, is too dead to feeling to wish to resist, or so excitable that it is liable to be carried away by its admiration for any fascinatingly forceful personality ? "

      " I should be so glad to have your views on these points ; and, of course, your personal confirmation of my theory that people like you and Sir Peter can use these substances with benefit to yourselves and others, without danger of becoming slaves. I have trained myself and many others to stop at Will ; but every additional affidavit to this effect is of great value to me in my present campaign to destroy the cowardly superstition that manhood and womanhood are incapable of the right and proper use of anything whatever in nature. We have tamed the wild lightning, after all ; shall we run away from a packet of powder ? "

      Love is the law, love under will.

      With my kind regards to Sir Peter, Yours ever,

      " BASIL KING LAMUS."

      Satirical, sneering stupidity-or is he a devil incarnate, as Gretel told us he was ? Does he gloat ?

       I loathe the beast-and I thought-once-well, never mind! Peter took the letter. Anything, anything to distract the mind from its boredom! Yet we haven't the energy to do anything: we take whatever comes to us, and clutch at it feebly. " It's true," said Cockie, to my amazement, " and we've got to be able to tell him we've won." There was a long quarrel-as there is over every incident of any sort. That is natural, with this eternal insomnia and sleeping at the wrong time. I hated Peter (and K.L.) the more because I knew all the time he was right. If K.L. is a Devil, it's up to us to get the last laugh. I tore the beastly letter into shreds. Peter has gone out-I hope he has gone to kill him. I want to be thrilled-just once moreif I had to be hanged for it myself.

      Our watches have run down. It doesn't matter. I can call on Mabel any time I like. I may as well СКАЧАТЬ