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Aleister Crowley Diary Entry Monday, 12 July 1920
12.52 a.m. I have written steadily till now, with occasional doses from a scant supply. I will now seek my chaste couch. I sought it, but its chastity proved frail!
2.50 a.m. Opus[1] I, 31-666-31 [Leah Hirsig]. Operation: excruciatingly intense. Elixir: good, rich, aromatic. Object: that I be master of cocaine.
3.50 a.m. As Hume shewed, miracles are not uncaused effects. As he shewed also, the link of any cause with its effect is unthinkably mysterious. The Miracle of the One Substance has an elaborate technique, precise although empirical where we have not found a theory to explain, or pretend to explain, the generalized results gathered in practice. It is no blasphemy to assist one's Miracle by common-sense precautions. I propose therefore-(a) to lock up the cocaine till Saturday night. (b) to make a point of the 'healthy out-door life' until then. (c) to forbid thought on the subject, and work by Liber III.
6.45 a.m. This is terrible! After all these pages of identifying opposites, I fail suddenly in practice to distinguish between cocaine and not-cocaine. I am no better than a Schoolman staking his soul on the decision as to which Ovary of the B.V.M. [Blessed Virgin Mary] was responsible for Jesus. I take refuge in refusing to discriminate between discrimination and non-discrimination, such refusal to be equivalent to acceptance!
6.53 a.m. I lock things up-Deliciously Freudian! I locked the case with elaborate care and left the cocaine outside! Slept most of the day: it passed easily. I played Fives a good deal.
1—[Crowley conducts a magical sexual operation.]
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