Aleister Crowley Diary Entry

Tuesday, 22 September 1931

11 P.M. Opus^[1] 27 Au Rub. Marvellous. Properly done.

Thanks to Karl [Karl Germer], woke at 3.30 A.M. with bad bronchitis. The cowardly swine Karl Germer kept us all day without a mark, and played tricks with the telephone to make us believe he was out.

Wouldn’t fuck Bill [Bertha Busch], still ill, but kissed her darling Muschi gently for an hour or two at night.

1—Crowley performs a magical sexual operation.

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