Aleister Crowley Diary Entry

Wednesday, 11 April 1923

12.5 A.M. I worked furiously at Pythagoras till 10 minutes ago—eating a heavy supper in the course of the work, and not sparing one drop of blood for digestion. Thus, rising in bed to put away the MSS, I instantly and violently vomited. It was absolutely sudden: I felt perfectly all right until the moment of moving. [Heroin] (1). However, to hell with everything: I got through my Work, a fine and deep piece of revision. NO! that is quite the wrong way to look at it: I ought to respect and cherish my body. I suspect, by the way, that one of the effects of [Cocaine] is to make one reckless, not necessarily about itself, but about things in general. Thus I have not been able to recover the sense of responsibility, the interest, and the pride of progress, about [Heroin] that marked the week April 1-7. Alternatively, it may be that, feeling better and freer in consequences of that week, I have been saying secretly in my soul "Well, that's all right. I can take a chance. My duty is to get a decent day's work done, and damn the Batting Average!" I sometimes wonder if it is worth while to record all these minute observations and speculations: but that view is certainly shallow. It probably needs a second mind to draw correct conclusions from the data: can't help that. At the same time, I confess to being thoroughly sick of the experiment most of the time, and feel inclined to quit and have a four day's pitched battle, and be well again. But it seems a pity to poison oneself so conscientiously for so many months, and then waste the whole work by a gesture of impatience, especially as to do so would tend to prove that a man can't slow down and stop by his own resolution without suffering physically. As it is, any how, I have suffered (in a sense) far more without stopping than I did when I stopped. But (of course) this suffering has been almost entirely mental, and due to the uncertainty as to whether I shall succeed as I hoped to do. The time, as it is, has drawn out, and there have been complications of fever etc—somewhat vitiating the experiment?—yes, but also making it more conclusive———damn it! I wish it were concluded! Another question: Was Monday's (4) easy because Sunday's (9) gave me a balance to draw on, and Tuesday's (8) made necessary by Monday's fasting? If so, I ought to find (3) or (4) easy today. One more point: I have certainly been suffering from a chill these last few days: has this made me unnecessarily wretched, and lowered my physical and moral resistance? Again, why can't I continue with the very successful Laudanum treatment?

12.30 (2) Walk and work in sunshine etc: but very weak all the time. Obliged to take (3-5) before 7, despite trying 15 [drops] Laud[anum] between (4) and (5). It is a curious state of semi-collapse, and the physical affects the mental. I am eager to work, but in a desperate sort of way—I imagine an impotent man seeing a beautiful girl feels rather the same! There's nothing for it but (6) and a slow reduction as before (Perhaps the intervention of [Cocaine]

8.20 The result of (6) has been to make me feel very fit, but half drunk (?) in a sleepy fashion. I have been trying to work out some linear relations on the Tree of Life, and can get nothing satisfactory. I wanted in particular to establish a 3, 4, 5 triangle—K, Ch, T.

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