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Correspondence from Aleister Crowley to Sascha Germer
Feb 14 [1946]
Dear Sascha,
Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law.
This is my Valentine—to my dearest and most generous Sascha! But I think duty money should be kept in Dollars; many people here think the £ may go the way of the Mark in 1924. In fact, one doesn't know what to do.
I hope your leg is quite right now; my own has taken a spell—these last 6 weeks—of repeating its old fun. Briefly, I must rest it to the maximum possible: avoid walking, etc. I should really keep it horizontal. The trouble about this is that my electric fire is on the wrong side of the bed, so that I can't write in that position. Then, my secretary can only come from 2 - 4 p.m., and those are just the hours when the heat is cut off. Rather Irish—tragic! In any case, my brain and fingers seem frozen.
I am reduced to lying still and loving you! This is fine, but it doesn't get any work done! Not that this matters very much at the moment, because (as I said before) my brain seems frozen stiff.
The printer in charge of my work has been ill for weeks with Ehinitis, that is why you don't get any estimate for Liber Aleph. But—no need to worry; if any extra is wanted, it won't be for a long time. There is plenty in hand, so far as I can judge, to pay the balance on OLLA, and most of Liber Aleph as well.
Perique [tobacco] 2 lb. came this A.M. if the next lot arrives by end April, all's well.
OLLA 1 order for £10.10.0; ordinary copies sell in slow dribbles. No reviews so far! But with everything stuck as it is, what can one expect? You have no idea how dull and dismal the whole country is. Same everywhere, no matter what the subject. The best chance of working things up is for this crew of infante swine to accept; a new General Election is possible, even probably, the success is [illegible]. And even if the Tories get in, what could they do? If only Winston were 20 years younger. But he isn't!
About sending me money—don't, unless I ask for it specially. I suppose the £ is "pegged"; but one thing is sure—you can only get a one-way ticket. It would be awkward if I needed money in U.S.A. (e.g. suppose I can't get any paper for Liber Aleph and we had to print it in N.Y.) Keep a separate a/c, but not in my name only because of the trouble over money here shortly after the Constable, Nina [Nina Hamnett] fuss; in short keep it someplace where I can get it as well as you, but not external [illegible]! I'm getting muddled, and my brain is tired; so I will stop all this nonsense and go back to lying quiet and loving you and Karl [Karl Germer]!
93 93/93.
Yours, oh! so weary!
Aleister.
P.S. Feb 20.
I have been talking things over with various people—God bless us! I can't spell—about this pseudo-paralysis, and they are all in the same mind or whatever it is. Nobody can think. My printer is ill—very ill, so there is no prospect of any estimate for an indefinite period.
Also, the electricity cuts have stopped all their machines, so that I can't even get little half-hour jobs done!
Forgive me, then, dear children! It has taken about 8 weeks to write this scraggy letter! Morning after morning one wakes to find no change, no hope of change.
The moment something happens I'll get back to normal—or so I hope.
Meanwhile, I'll be in the Lounge (which happens to be empty) and send off this letter and read the 'Fountainhead', very likely sent to me by Max [Max Schneider]—a first-class book—most encouraging—by Ayn Rand and doze till the heat comes on at 4 P.M. and be quiet and love you both.
666.
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