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Correspondence from Aleister Crowley to Louis Umfreville Wilkinson
Jan 27 [1945]
Dear Louis
Behold me armed with doctor’s certificates, awaited by a chariot of fire, packed to the last eyelash-curler—and stuck! The D.T. [Daily Times] this A.M. has a letter to say that in ’95 a frost which began with a thunder storm—as this did—lasted until March I. Again I say: Behold me! 20 small parcels, and I daren’t unpack one, not knowing which holds what. So imagine my joy in getting a letter—and such a long and charming one—from you! I am greatly honoured by your acceptance. As to ages, that is a trivial point. The crucial factor is that I have been borrowing life for the last 6 years or so, at God knows what rate of interest, by means of injections [of heroin]. My heart has picked up a lot; but even now, a really bad spasmodic attack, without anything to cut it short, might be fatal on the spot. So I have one day a week of the jitters: will the post bring it in time? I had 4 tubes in reserve; but a packet got stolen just before Xmas—probably our Oxford day—and another failed somehow to reach me. I struggle to replace the reserves; but every thing has been against me, and this morning I found myself with 2 grains to last till Monday if the postman failed me. Luckily he didn’t.
To continue. There is a youth, Kenneth Grant, not quite 21, who has been collecting and studying me for the last 3 years. I am trying to get him to look after me and my work. He must learn shorthand and typing; but we can start at once (more or less) once I get to Hastings, provided we can put finance on a sound basis. Brief: a definite gift from the Gods. An ideal person to do all the hard work under your direction.
I am delighted that you appreciate the two retorts, and can use them. I don’t know of any more; but if I looked through my diaries, I think quite a few might emerge. When I get settled I must try what the lode will yield. Donegall’s idea was that as 18 was “fully adult” 14 amounts to very high marks! Rather like the two men who reported on a flask of whisky: one came back and said “Half full” the other “Half empty”. What a gulf between them! Can’t think of anything else to say, so—hasta la vista! May it be soon!
Yours ever
Aleister
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