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Aleister Crowley Diary Entry Wednesday, 12 March 1924
die Mercury.
Letters from O.P.V. [Norman Mudd] and ARS last night. Hail unto Kheph Ra!
12.5. Bourcier tells me that illness is a matter of will. One sees how he is killing his wife—making her get up and work in the middle of an acute attack of enteritis. But as for me, of course my physical state is astonishingly good. But I need re-education like a baby, from the start; regular habits of all sorts. I was asleep practically all yesterday: did not even wash.
(From some days back). Cefalu—criminal types. Dared not put a knife into Helen Fraux—for fear of what fluid might exude.
9.30 P.M. A good day on the whole Goldsmith and Jane Chéron called; but not B H as promised. O.P.V.'s letter, on mature consideration is the limit. He tells me how to write 'Sick Man's Fancies' and ARS pats me on the back that my "No 2 is IT". I invoke [illegible] Hall by the ancient Rune: "and now I go upstairs, go up stairs, kyind fryiends, give me yer prayers! Give me your bloody prayers, damn yer eyes!"
Yes, I must be a little better. I did well to answer O.P.V. by a long drawn out wail and ARS by a schoolmaster exposition of why he had nothing to do with me. 10 to 1 they talk endless balls and do nothing (P.S. I won the bet.)—However, I have got to love (AL at least makes me think so).
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