Liber 93 - The Fountain of Hyacinth

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object:Liber 93 - The Fountain of Hyacinth
Liber XVIII
Part One
The Fountain of Hyacinth
Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law
I, Baphomet 666, wishing to prove the strength of my will and the
degree of my courage have poisoned myself for the last two years and
have succeeded finally in reaching a degree of intoxication such that
withdrawal of the drugs (heroin & cocaine) produce a terrible attack of
the "Storm Fiend". The acute symptoms arise suddenly, usually on waking
up from a nap. They remind me of the "For God's sake turn it off"
feeling of having an electric current passing through one, and of the
"Super-structure" of the Baltoro Glacier. The psychology is very
complex and curious: I think a detailed record of my attempt at
breaking the habit will be interesting and useful.
Tuesday, Feb. 14, 1922
3:40 P.M.
1. Left Paris for Fontainbleau. Put up at Au Cadran Bleu. Walked
before dinner. No alcohol. Heroin & Cocaine at odd times till 8
P.M. Difficult to sleet. [N.B. Part of my plan in coming here is to
dig up the bitter memories which have been killing me. I was so
happy and hopeful here two years ago; and now my little Poupe(ace)e
has been dead over a year and her little brother never came to
birth; and my manhood in part is crushed]
Feb. 15.
1 1/2 tablets -- Slept till 9:30. Cafe Croissant. Struggled hard to get
up but relapsed and slept till after 11. Delightful dreams.
12. Walked (lunch on warm milk) till about 3:30. Very tired. A nap. The
breath of the forest hit me like a club, the moment I left the town. I
felt cured of everything. I broke into a series of storms of sobbing;
great relief.
4 P.M. "Storm-fiend" possessed me with terrible and unendurable
violence.
4:4 A big sniff of heroin. Instant relief but very palsied. The
residual symptoms abated slowly and I was normal, nearly, at 4:17. From
then I got worse again slowly.
4:30 Small dose of heroin
4:40 " " "
5:15 Medium " '
5:30 Big dose. I am not suffering. The excesses are that I want to be
very fit to write this record though I have practically finished for
the present, and that I may as well take plenty before curfew at 7, so
as to make it less difficult to do without it till Reveille at 1 PM
tomorrow.
I may find it wise to limit the number of doses during the "Open
Season" or to make it illegal to take a dose at all unless the
"Storm-fiend" is actually on the job.
My general idea is to increase the Close Season daily by a space of one
or two hours thus automatically limiting the Open Season and reaching a
point when a whole physiological cycle of 24 hours. That, in my theory,
would be the critical point of the cure.
6:12 PM. It seems to be no effort at all to stop cocaine right away;
one returns to it from the moral impulse to "get going." This impulse
appears to depend on external circumstances. Accidental necessities to
be at one's best. (I am now, by the way, slightly intoxicated - by the
5 doses of the last 2 hours. I am combating my excess of hunger for the
drug by Strychnine, doses of 2 mgs - and by eating. The most important
part of the treatment is to keep the mind distracted. The attacks of
hunger seem to be partly caused by the mental obsession and prove
transient of the attention is attracted in any way.
I propose to deal with the most distressing symptoms which I have
explained hitherto, viz., inability to sleep at the proper hours (with
tendency to over-do sleep in the daytime) on the following principles.
1. Use of the IX' formula.
2. Hard physical exercise every day with a walk of at least half an
hour before dinner.
3. Hydrotherapy if to be procured. In any case, hot bath with
eau-de-cologne rub on retiring. Cold ditto on waking.
4. Alcohol on retiring.
5. Soporific in full dose as well unless asleep within 30 minutes of
lying down.
My plan for tomorrow is this:
Forced wakening at 8:30. Breakfast. Bath. Walk. Lunch in forest. No
heroin till 1 PM. Doses at pleasure till curfew at 6 PM.
6:30. Medium dose Heroin. This was a real indulgence in the worst sense
of the word. It has occurred very frequently that I have taken a dose
for reasons at present utterly unfathomable. (This is a confession
indeed, for me, who claims to be the foremost living psychologist!)
There is not the slightest discomfort to be removed, or the faintest
wish to reach some still superior state. It is an absolutely perverse
impulse. I can only compare it with similar obfuscation -- phenomena
common enough in the matter of sex. Part of the explanation may be that
I feel (rather there is a physiological instinct in the animal) an
absurd sense of injury. An indignant assertion that it has a natural
right to be active and pleasantly divorced(?) for a certain proportion
of the 24 hours. 6:45. Small dose. Taken partly to prove to myself that
I was not alarmed by the reflection above set down.
I note certain pathological points.
1. Increased secretions, especially mucous, indicate the physical need
of the drug.
2. Slight tendency to manifest the bronchitis which introduced me to
heroin.
3. I think my eyesight to be degenerated wholly since I began the
experiment. Occultist, however, will not admit this; they claim that I
am "doing as well as can be expected" or even a little better.
4. There has been a constantly increasing indifference to matters of
ordinary health, cleanliness and vanity. I seem hardly to know what the
state of affairs is, as to defecation, etc.`
5. There are numerous very alarming mental symptoms, but all really
reduce to one only, the feeling that nothing is worth while. It is a
sort of "philosophical laziness" rather like Falstaff's deafness "a
scary slackness".
6:55 PM Medium dose. Excuse, a perverted sense of duty. The clock had
struck 7. There are several audible clocks in the town and I wanted to
assert my right to take a last dose between the competing chimes.
I am now "nice drunk" as Alostrael would say. The day had been one of
anguish. Poupee peeped from every alley in the forest. I think of her
now without the least tendency to emotion of any kind at all; it is
even hard to remember that I ever regretted her for an instant.
7:7 PM An extraordinary incident has occurred. I had put a "choice
cigar" in my mouth as the safest place intending to smoke it after
dinner. In my mental absorption, I lit it, discovering the fact only
now when it is half smoked. This sounds an absurd trifle; but it
reveals a condition as serious as an actor's who should unconsciously
declaim "to be or not to be" in a scene or so too early. I am
economising these cigars as I cannot renew the supply in this town.
I am now not only "nice drunk" but "very drunk", not far short of
"bloody drunk". My eyes are swimming, my senses singing: I feel
"floppy" and I radiate beatitude of the most beatific blessedness. My
middle name is Benedict; they call me Felix for short. Instead of
Bildred and his friends, I am surrounded by my cronies, Sat, Chit and
Ananda. I am enjoying a formless ecstasy, unsurpassed by anything in my
experience. Yes: the day has been a success. I never drank a better
bottle of nectar. It is all to the good that I can put no name to my
rejoicing.
10:10 PM. The dinner, all unpleasing as was the menu, proved excellent.
I had a glass of Noirs, perfect; and a Vieux Marc ditto. I went to No.
4 & No. 6 to look for a female primate. The best of the banal bunch was
a short, sturdy creature called Paulette. I hardly feel justified in
robbing Pierrete to pay her! I drank a Vieux Marc and a Cointreau -- I
feel wonderfully well and deliciously tired: I am not even annoyed at
the rain. I shall not be sorry to go out and get soaked to the skin and
skip about in the slimy slush of the sodden forest. I am terribly sleep
and have nothing on my mind. Except this: my ambition to make this
record "read well" may persuade my animal to simulate all sorts of
unnecessary tortures! Shame! I thought I had overcome that last
infirmity of noble mind! Well, let me go to sleep over the "Bourgeois
gentilhomme. I seem, by the way, to be the total antithesis of M.
Jourdain. A am noble, poor, and totally disillusioned on all points. I
have even ceased to protest against the fact that every step in
evolution is inseparable from spasms of stupid agony: and I don't
"want" anything. My will is at last -- so it seems -- free from all
lust of result.
10:26. I compose myself to Moli(acg)ere.
Feb. 16.
1:00 A.M. 1/2 tablet dichlenel(?) and a glass of wine. My Moli(acg)ere
became illegible within 10 minutes. Yet I am awake still, bar a
doubtful half-nap of a few minutes.
The mechanism of my insomnia is extremely interesting.
Tonight conditions for sleeping were all advisable. The bed is
comfortable; my fatigue is great; and normal in all respects. My body
is entirely at east and my mind far from preoccupation. I cannot recall
having any thoughts of any special kind, such as worries,
contemplations, plans. There has been no "train of thought". What
happens is this: I feel myself sinking into sleep and am at the same
instant impelled to some slight physical movement, actually to seek a
more comfortable position, or to scratch. The action is sufficient to
remove me from the frontier of sleep. If I refuse to yield to the
physical impulse it passes off; but when I again feel the sensation of
approaching the Gates, it seems, not necessarily or even usually in the
same shape but with increased intensity.
1:20 AM. Feeling my mental activity to have become very great. I take a
second 1/2 tablet of Dial(?). This episode must have recurred dozens of
times in the 2 1/2 hours of insomnia. The only identifiable thought, by
the way, in that period is the wish to observe and record the phenomena
in question.
1:25. I return to Moli(acg)ere.
[afterthought -- Despite the conditions, I feel very much rested,
perhaps more so that if I had slept deeply throughout and been awakened
accident. While writing these last entries I have felt a curious wish
to confide the secret of this whole experiment to T--E-- on his arrival
in the forest. I must think out why this should be.
9:12 A.M. slept all night after only 3 or 4 repetitions of the torture
called Vigilium; and that despite a beginning of an asthma attack which
is "my animal's" way of asking for cocaine -- Heroin which stops my
bronchitis at once does not touch my asthma -- leaves it worse than
before if anything. I feel fully rested, mind & body; lazy indeed but
without irritation or fatigue. And I feel no temptation to take heroin
in order to acquire strength enough to get up. Things could hardly seem
more favorable but of course they may be the prelude to all sorts of
horrors--
12:00. Awake at last after several relapses.
3:00. Very dull damp and depressing. Crawled up the Roches D'Avon (?)
-- no enthusiasm, no vigor, no courage.
I note that the important part of the treatment is to increase the
period of abstinence and as heroin postpones sleep the best plan would
be to be very ---- about curfew and allow a little latitude to
Reveille.
3:5. Small sniff
3:44. Big do. (N.B. This is my "bad day" as to cocaine and the weather,
etc., etc., -- all combine to depress me.
4:18. Medium sniff.
4:27. Symptoms so far unsatisfactory. There is a dull malaise, combined
lack of any interest in anything and the knowledge that cocaine would
put me right at once. Cocaine is barred altoge ther of course. The
reason is this: The hunger for it is strictly moral and a man ought to
be able to master his moral passions -- Physical torture, on the other
hand, simply throws the moral apparatus out of gear; one cannot blamed
for committing suicide or doing any other foolish act when the pain is
so strong as to prevent the manifestation of the Will altoge ther.
I was slightly enthusiastic, by the way, during my whole walk today --
but I felt no temptation to take any cocaine on that score. I am
tempted strongly now, though, for I resent the tedium of my state. I
want to smoke, eat, read, write, drink and sleep all at once; and I
cannot settle to any one of these with the least enjoyment. The feeling
resembles that of subconscious worry. But I am unable to worry about
anything. My affairs, Leah, old memories, nothing seems to matter. I
want to be able to get into some positive state of mind, no odds on
what subject, and I can't. Only cocaine could help me and I won't take
it.
4:59. Medium dose. My feeling is that the safest course is to arrange a
mild jag; sufficient to overcome my general lassitude, which is
beginning to make me open to violent suggestion to throw the whole cure
overboard.
5:15. Heavy with sleep and on the verge of a "nice drunk".
5:28 Small. I did not want this dose, but I want to take 7 in the 3
hours so as not to diminish the ration too quickly. I want to take 6
doses tomorrow for prudence's sake and yet to take one less than on the
previous day. If I took 6 today and 6 tomorrow, I might feel that I was
failing to make progress; while tomorrow it might well be that 5 were
not enough to carry me over till Saturday.
5:49. Small -- Routine -- no impulse.
6:00. Medium.
Programme for tomorrow
Reveille not before 2 PM.
Curfew 5 PM.
In case of early sleep or waking -- which may the Gods grant - I force
myself to walk to Melon(?) or at least to Bois-le-Rio --
10:40 P.M. Before dinner I went to Thibault to get a small commonplace
printing job done. The ignorance, stupidity and obstinacy of the
specialist nearly drove me insane. At dinner I was dropping with sleep,
an absolute agony of desire. Coffee and 2 Vieux Marcs revived me and I
took my walk in perfectly normal circumstances not in the least
intoxicated but feeling as I used to in 1896 on a bright May morning in
a new suit strolling Trinity Street.
I then went to the Cafe and had 3 Mandarins (I do not mean that I
committed a felony on the persons of three Chinamen of high official
rank!). I practiced billiards. I have not touched a cue for two years,
or been in good form for 8. I was amazed to find myself doing better
than I have ever done in my life. All classes of stroke seemed equally
easy. I was not trying particularly to do my best yet I ran off a break
of 22 from a leave of no remarkable promise. Astounding! At this moment
I feel quite normal and not a day over thirty!
I wish to note (before I forget it) that one of the nuisances connected
with the legends current as to the effects of drug-taking is that one
is apt to attribute any and every unpleasant symptom to addiction or
abstinence. Just as the man who fell downstairs while reading George
Eliot and broke his leg jumped to the conclusion that the fracture of
the femur was due to the fall, so I, after a bad night and a weary walk
in wet weather, wonder whether my asthma, depression and other
unpleasant phenomena are due to a) lack of cocaine b) too much cocaine
c) too much heroin d) too little heroin e) my Freudian attitude toward
drugs f)my reaction against said attitude g) etc. h) etc.
The fundamental trouble about drugs is then that they tend to obsess
me, just as in the days of Christianity people always referred anything
that happened to the prophecies in Daniel, Matthew XXIV, or the
Apocalypse!
These considerations, however, have this effect at least: that I am no
longer in the least anxious about my alleged addition, my imminent
insomnia, or anything else. There is yet, I regret to say, one
super-subtle whisper: "Is not your freedom from apprehension a `devise
of the Devil' to induce you to disdain your manifold precautions and to
go on the loose in order to show your superiority to the whole
situation?"
Just so: This is a case for putting into practice by old rule -- "When
in doubt, stick to the letter of your resolution and never mind the
spirit." I may be free from all danger of being enslaved by drugs; I
may be making myself absurd by going on with my "cure" but I shall keep
my rules for the sake of keeping them -- without lust of result.
11:11 P.M. Well, that's off my chest. (I wish the phlegm was!). I shall
need some -------- till I happen to go to sleep -- Goodnight everybody!
Feb. 17.
I slept at once, woke at 3 for a few minutes, woke back up at 5:15,
slept again till nearly 12. There has been a lot of violent sweating. I
am now very slack still, despite the length of the rest.
2:10. Medium. Had been feeling very badly, chilled, empty etc. some
relief -- not complete.
2:24 P.M. Big. This put me at ease but I was aware of an absurd wish to
let myself go. The wish had no rational basis, positive or negative --
it seemed principally due to the spirit of revolt against restriction.
2:25. T--- E--- not at station -- I began the walk along the crest back
to Fountainbleu.
3:05. Medium.
4:00 " No need but I don't want to risk the loss of prestige involved
in having to go back on my programme.
4:21. I now feel in first class shape all round. I walk briskly,
blithely and have a ridiculous feeling I must be "looking my best"--
4:32 Small.
4:55 Big -- The result of this dose was (apparently) that I was
suddenly overcome with somnolence. I can hardly keep my eyes open. I
must lie down.
5:00 No: the feeling passes off to some extent.
Tomorrow programme
Reveille -- 1:30 PM
Curfew -- 4 PM
Doses -- 5
I know that I am not diminishing very rapidly. But I have organized and
restricted the business. Last night's natural sleep was a big stride! I
find the mirror justifies my impression that I am looking like an
exceptionally handsome winner of the Diamond Sculls, whose love is
returned by the loveliest lady alive --
6:15. I'm not quite "nice drunk". This is as it should be. A few more
nights like last night ought to clear up the worst of the nervous
exhaustion. N.B. The cigar episode of Wednesday repeated itself!
8:38 After dinner walk cut short by a very severe fit of shivering --
the worst I have had since malarial --------- was my long suit. I
refuse to admit that a little heroin would put me right.
10:50. Slept instantly but woke about 10:30 with fierce thirst, skin
dry and burning, etc.
11:58. Nearly asleep -- sweating heavily.
Feb. 18.
7:00 A.M. Woke fresh & fit though very uncomfortable the bed and my
sheet being drenched with sweat! had no idea -- despite much experience
of malaria in such places as Rangoon that such quantities of
perspiration could be produced by so small a person! The quality offers
no prospect of my betting a contract with Houbignet.
12:00. I slept off and on all morning while my sheet dried on the
radiator.
1 & 1:34. Big- A tremendous relief, though I can hardly say from what!
It seems as if my symptoms were becoming uniform. I have had dyspepsia,
fever, bronchitis, asthma, rheumatic pains, tendency to headache, etc.
The trouble is that if it were not for knowing about heroin I should
have accepted any one of these as the natural lot of mankind and
treated it accordingly. As it is, I suspect "suppression" to be at the
root of anything abnormal.
2 & 2:01. Medium. Heavy rain: it would be stupid to go out walking as I
have not a Barberry or a change of clothes and in view of two nights of
violent fever. Yet I suspect myself of exaggerating the rain as an
excuse for relaxing my regime. This is all absurdly over-honest; the
good point is the proof that I am taking the cure seriously, the bad
one that it shows a tendency to scare. But in a case of this port it is
an error on the right side to be slow to make excuses.
2:34. This is true, although at first sight silly; that all unpleasant
symptoms, diverse as they may be, depart unceremoniously on the arrival
of Heroin. The converse proosition (is it converse, obverse,
contrapositive or what? My logic is rusty) thus appears tenable: that
the symptoms arise from a single cause, the withdrawal of the drug. Why
then do I not get more symptoms still? Obviously enough: the action of
the heroin is to prevent one's natural tendencies to illness from
manifesting. I can well understand (in this light) the claim made for
opium that addicts are practically immune from most types of disease.
If, then, one could be sure of not abusing such drugs, it might be a
tenable thesis that their use prolongs life (Excuse me if I distrust
the above remarks! May not such thoughts be the scouts of my soul's
enemies?! I might easily change my plan of campaign, aiming to limit my
doses instead of suppressing them. The next step would be to employ
---------- to enlarge the limit, or at least to become careless so that
I slid back into the way of taking dose whenever I felt like it.
I think it very important for humanity to set down all these
subtleties; it has never been properly done either by an artist or a
psychologist. I am not sorry that I undertook the experiment. These
mental analyses have analogies in other departments. They will be
extremely useful to the young Yogi, for example.
2 & 2:53. Medium. I must make a point of analyzing the precise motives
that operate the actual decision at any moment as to when and how much
I take. I observe, by the way, that the above entry is accompanied by a
moral collapse. Such analysis strikes me as damnable difficult; and I
instinctively cry out for a stenographer to save me the trouble of
writing and a dose of cocaine to brace me up to the intellectual
fatigue.
2:58. I see one difficulty about this `cure' which reminds me of
Russell and his `zigazgginess'. Suppose I succeed in ------ moral tone.
I am liable to discover it to be my "duty" to spurn this campaign as
selfish and trivial and to sacrifice myself to humanity (or something
pompous and piggish of the kind) by going off to establish the Law
aided by adequate doses. I can think of about a million artful
arguments of this kind. The sole re buttal is -- as in learning
concentration of any sort -- to stick to the letter of the law without
lust of result. I must emphasize this danger to the utmost; I have seen
too often in the past how one can become obsessed by some ordered mass
of ideas which are utterly irrefutable and yet are the flimsiest
falsehoods when once they are set aside. The moral quality required to
do so is Resolute Stupidity; it is his possession of this that has made
the Englishman master of the world. It is the infiltration of the
poison of intelligence that is reducing him to a national rabbit. Tommy
Adkins is immeasurably superior to a Chink -- like Confucius; if not,
by what right does Brittania rule the waves?
I have made one gigantic stride toward recovery. I have regained my
belief in myself as a World Force. Despite the general indifference to
things at large which still leaves me without magnetism, I am genuinely
interested in this record and think it will prove one of the most
important documents offered to psycho-pathology.
3:26. I am calculating the best way to use my last two doses. I feel no
need of anything. As on previous days at this stage; and the reason in
taking them is as before. Yet I am haunted by the anguish of further
diminution -- I think: Hadn't I better take two big doses as late as
possible, so as to suffer less before Reveille tomorrow? As against
this: hadn't I better advance the time and diminish the amounts, so as
to force myself to fight through as much suffering as possible -- get
used to it, like eels to being skinned? For as I have hitherto managed
to keep strictly to my programme, I am getting to feel confident that
my pride will help me out in a pinch.
The final argument is this: let me be careful not to be overcareful.
There is danger in attaching too much importance to the matter. On the
other hand, no danger is so great as over-confidence; if I get
careless, good-night! The bottom of the business is the dear old occult
bottom -- to work without lust of result. One must act with all the
ardor and integrity possible; yet with indifference, as if one had no
interest in the upshot.
3 & 3:38. Medium. I took this dose with very marked reluctance. I am
tempted to stop brutally. "To hell with the beastly stuff" is my
reaction.
I am quite uncertain whether to regard this attitude as a symptom of
moral convalescence or as a subtly false attempt of the subconscious
craving to trick me into rashness. It is certainly wise to repudiate
both claims and to maintain the letter of the Law.
While wring this, I observe a powerful undertow of craving. The effect
of the dose seems to have been to make me eager to continue the drug
with enthusiasm. [This effect, by the way, is exceptionally well
reached when taking cocaine.] Now what may one deduce from this? Is it
that the stimulus, consciously resented, is subconsciously demanded?
It seems that the gain in power, the return towards the normal, gives
one confidence in one's mastery of oneself? In other words, is one
---------- there is a marked confusion of thought in my mind on this
point. I feel acutely that I am not expressing myself well and that I
am not clear about what I wish to express. This suggests that I must be
"drilling near the nerve" of some complex. My mind is simply
bewildered. I don't know how to formulate my question properly. I am
aware of a sort of shame or embarrassment. I seems as if my mind wanted
to evade the analysis and take refuge in deliberate obfuscation. This
is, of course, what regularly happens to the average man whenever
confronted by any moral problem. He thinks with confused consternation
on such subjects as religion, morality and disease because his fear of
what might happen to him is so vast and so vague -- this inhibition has
been responsible for all the (ignorance?) which has disgraced the
history of the race.
3:58. Medium. The final dose was taken with a certain anguish which I
instantly recognized as saying "all very well for today! but what about
tomorrow when the limit is 4 doses?" This sounds absurd as 3 doses have
so far put me all right. But I am thinking of the question of
cumulative counter poisoning, and I feel a passionate impulse to break
down at this very moment, to "go on the bust, regardless" -- Yet the
thought of taking another dose is repugnant. The last has not made me
feel any better; it has simply dizzied me and fulled me with querulous
impatience. It has stopped raining, I think; I will go out and if too
wet, try what a Mandarin and an hour with a cue will do for me.
4:14. Just a note before going out -- I am not nearly "nice drunk" I am
glad to say -- But I am tremendously encouraged by the thought that
this record will be a model which may serve men to work out their own
mastery of "habits" without compulsion or assistance.
5:40. It was too wet to walk. I call to witness the umbrellas of the
indigenous. I went book-buying and proof inspecting; in the shop I
nearly collapsed. Fresh air restored me. I went billiard playing and
Mandarin drinking. My billiards was again admirably astonishing. I was
then overcome by sleepiness; decided to go home & lie down. I had a
violent impulse to vomit; but after a --------- I felt perfectly well
again and the somnolence resumed its sway.
5:55. It is worthy of remark that my regiment seems to have restored my
"drug- virginity" so called by writers on the subject. The fact is that
most of the fixed ideas about drugs are superstitious. I have long
observed this fact with regard to a great many. But the more I learn,
the danger is the rubble- heap of accepted statements. For instance,
with ether, hashish, mescal, opium-smoking and morphine, I find no
tendency to habit whatever. More still, I am unable to force myself to
use these drugs at all, except on the rarest occasions. Yet I have
nothing but the most pleasant and profitable experiences in connection
with them. With heroin & cocaine, on the contrary, I have not much to
thank them for; and there has been a good deal of annoyance connected
with them. Yet it is for these and these only that I hanker. I begin to
have a grave suspicion that there is a masochistic complex at the
bottom of all this: "a will to suffer", integral with the sense of
"sin" which accounts for the popularity of humiliating creeds such as
Christianity in all its forms among degenerate races -- (I include such
infantile wish-fulfillment phantasm reactions as "Christian Science'
among those morbid phenomenon.
6:30 I have been noticing in myself a tendency to irritability and
suspiciousness. It is not very acute or very persistent; but it is
sufficient to be evidence of a state of mind exceptionally foreign to
my assertion -- acquired habit of thought. It has appeared by fits and
starts during some months.
6:44. Programme for Sunday.
Reveille 1:00 PM
Curfew 3:00 PM
Doses 4
As adjuncts: strychnine appears of great use physically. I think I will
try emphasizing this in the two or 3 hours before Reveille. Alcohol is
a decided moral aid; but I suspect it of lessening physiological
resistance unless one is careful to restrict it scope to assisting
appetite and digestion or promoting sleep. I am somewhat astonished to
notice how prolonged by lethargy is. The impulse is to be alarmed; but
Nature knows best. This is Her way, presumably, of replenishing the
resistance.
7:00. A curious incident took place before dinner. After leaving my
room, I thought of my supply of cocaine -- was it safe? I went back,
assured myself of its integrity -- and that of the servants thereof --
and put it back with elaborate precautions against a grain of it
reaching my anatomy. I now wonder whether this action was dictated by
the subconscious wish to take some.
8:8. I dined slowly on light food in great moderation and was instantly
impelled to violent and voluminous vomiting. Painless, almost pleasant.
It leaves me, like the previous entry -- doubtful as to whether this,
too, is not a "device of the demon. Yet there is ample explanation
elsewhere -- I was reading the life of Lord Russell of Killoween by R.
Barry O'Brien. Perhaps this sickness has saved my life.
8:50. I feel as if another shivering fit were about due, so I get to
bed and take 3 gr. Quinine.
9:50. The shivering was avoided. I feel generally washed out, neither
tired, sleepy, hungry nor anything else. My thoughts are similarly
colorless. For instance, I wonder, without interest, whether I might
die before morning.
11:36. I now feel quiet and comfortable but rather bored.
Feb. 19.
1:11 AM Throat congested, stomach irritated, sleep coy; will take 1/2
tablet dialcura(?) 11:53 (?) a second 1/2 tablet then sleep till nearly
9 and dozes till 11:30.
Suffering acutely from dyspepsia, eyes watering, yawning, lassitude,
etc. I suppose this is the cumulative trouble: I have arrears of my
daily ration to make up. I must admit a very strong temptation to break
my rules not by artifice but by sheer weariness of the struggle.
Shouldn't be surprised if today was a severe test of the treatment. If
I break down, it is obvious I need alien aid. It upsets and weakens me
that I have no news of 31-666-31.
1+ 1:1 PM. Lunch and strychnine helped out but I was glad when Reveille
came. Big 1.
2+ 1:21. Big. I didn't really want this but I'm "hopping mad clear
through" today about nothing. I had no letters. It is now cold weather.
I am upset about all sorts of things and I can't put names to them. I
expect a brisk walk would put me in good condition.
1:50. Feeling particularly well after a short stroll. Returned for my
sweater as it is very cold.
3+ 2:20.
4+ 3:00
4:44 Back from a really good long fast walk. Feeling very much better.
By a curious paradox I want to break the regimen so as to make better
best! However, I made certain considerations as follows: Having been
busy reducing the doses, I have not been able to extend the intervals.
I wanted to advance the hour of curfew so as to avoid heroin insomnia.
But I may not go on the other track. I will maintain curfew at 3 and
make Reveille later.
e.g. [moon] Reveille 1:30 -- 3 doses
[mars] 2:40 -- 2 doses
[mercury] 3:0 1 dose.
It is no plan of my plan to drop from one dose to none until I have
reached the interval of 48 hours. The only permissible alternative to
making my one- dose days 25 hours long is this: to replace the heroin
on alternate days by cocaine. The objection to the whole scheme is
this; that the hour of taking the dose always approaches bedtime while
it is most desirable (on the contrary) for it to be as early as
possible. Suppose, however, I extend the two-dose period in this way: 1
dose on waking, the other at 3:00 PM and extend the interval by
advancing curfew to 2, 1, noon, and reducing to one dose when the times
coincide. This scheme has the advantage of changing the physiological
cycle which compensates (I think) for the temporary reduction of the
interval which it is desired to extend.
5:00 I may observe that I am recovering to a great extent my normal
healthy interest in ordinary affairs and also that I am not in the
least suspicious as to my motives in making the above entry. I feel, in
fact, quite considerable confidence in myself -- for the first time --
Indeed, I should have little hesitation for my own sake in going on the
loose entirely: I refrain from doing so because it would apparently
------ my record.
8:42. Dined rather well; feel all right, bar a tendency to indigestion.
But I observe that my virile reaction to various matters is renewed
like the Eagle's and a pretty nasty tempered Eagle at that. I find
myself wanting an "eye for an eye" from certain people.
11:20. Heroin was (note from S. Roberts--he has either been drinking
because his handwriting begins to sprawl also he does not record taking
anything) originally prescribed for my bronchitis. It stops an attack
in a few seconds. Now I have spent this evening fighting the aforesaid
malady with compresses and pastilles, obtaining practically no relief.
Am I morally justified in resorting to heroin out of business hours? If
it were a moral question the problem would be pertinent; but it is not:
I am making a purely scientific experiment with no moral implications
soever; there is therefore no difficulty whatever in deciding to
abstain. I mention this as an example of the astounding simplifications
effected by referring all questions of conduct to the Law of Thelema.
There is nevertheless a `critical temperature': I should take the
heroin if not to do so would spoil the record in any case: for example,
if the spasms of coughing increased so as to endanger life. The use of
drugs in such an extremity would indeed form a pertinent episode in the
experiment.
Feb. 20.
12:20 AM I am making a regular St. Patrick's Night of it. Throat
trouble with phlegm standing like the Old Guard and fever, insomnia,
etc. on top; my mind surging with phantasms of projects of various
sorts -- persistent, but without alacrity or ability to hold my
interest. There is no definite drug hunger; but I suspect my quite
indefinable symptoms to be in reality so many "legal arguments" of the
body, too cunning to complain frankly what it wants.
1:11 AM. Nothing for it but a Dialcuria(?) once more.
2 AM. One spasm follows another each ending in complete exhaustion. I
have tried inhaling eau de cologne: no good. I will make one last stand
at Fort Vaux.
2:31. Useless sacrifice of human life. Retire on second line. Ils me
passeront pas.
1+ Relief very slight.
2+ 2:36. Medium -- almost calm.
3+ 2:45. Medium
I could almost certainly have cut short the attack with less trouble if
I had not let it go so far. I am "all in" from exhaustion, every muscle
aching from the strain -- breath still quick and laboured -- traces of
phlegm still in throat.
3:7. Practically "all better" though frightfully tired. A noticeable
phenomena is a keen ambition to write a play in French verse!
(Suggested, probably, by picking up my pocket Tartuffe).
3:18. I shall consider myself provisionally as having "borrowed" the
three doses due today and pay them back if practicable by total
abstention till Tuesday 2:30 PM. I thing also I shall go to Paris on
Tuesday and ask Dr. E--- G----- how best to combat these emergency
attacks; it should be worth while now that I know more or less what to
expect.
5:2. Awoke with access of spasms more violent than before. As soon as I
get respite enough to control my muscles at all.
4+ Med. I have been asleep dreaming voluptuously and planning various
projects in my puppet show.
5+ 5:11 Med. Also I have been sweating violently.
6+ 5:23. Still in the woods.
9:00 AM. Woke very succinctly, my chest still raw and distressed, but a
voice in my ears, clear as ever came to me in my life and apropos of
nothing: NOTJZJB
Now the Yi had indicated this before and I had found excuses to dodge
it. I don't like the idea even now since fully awake. But I have
cleared up the Fontainbleau formula about Poupe(ace)e, I think, with
Mark Twain's story "The Fine Loom of Life" (?) and NOTJZJP means
(twitching my mantle blue?) "Weep no more, gentle shepherd, weep no
more." offers the best possible conditions for the rest of my cure,
including the IX' -- XI' remedy and is in all ways rationally
indicated. With my habitual prudence, ask Thelema for an oracle. I bet
VIII I.53. The applicability of the passage may or may not be
discernible by those who are not initiates of the VI' of O.T.O. It may
involve my death, as "an enchantment to unbind the bound."
9:36. I am a little calmer now I am sitting up in bed. By the way, I
had a strong "hunch" last night to play a libel action against Arnold
Bennett for the "Paris Nights" reference worked out in a friendly
spirit to gain publicity. On this point Thelema says CCXXX I.50 end of
verse. Doubtful: the suggestion seems to be no to let Bennett know what
is going on.
Mad with Leah for not having written. Went out about 10 and started for
forest before 11. Shored away from golf course. Exhausted by night's
struggle; much residual cough and soreness as well as fatigue. A fine
day and a fresh, cool invigorating wind; but I could hardly drag one
leg after the other -- I make no apology for
7+ 1:04 PM. Medium.
8+ 1:21 PM " 9+ 1:36 PM "
10+ 1:58 PM Small. Crawled in, still weak, about 2:30 PM.
11+ 3:22 PM Wire and letters from Leah.
3:40. eyes keep closing with sleep.
5:00 PM. A nap, interrupted by a fool bell and the waking hideous with
a bronchial clinch. I have so shame in going for it at once with old
friend cocaine -- partly as a change from the heroin and partly because
it seems possible that it will touch the spot better. The first small
sniff does indeed seem to clear the matter up remarkable; but I will go
and see if the chemist can find me some balm in Gilead.
1.2+ Two small cocaines. Note that in all this business there has not
been the slightest conscious "hunger and thirst for mightiness sake"
but sheer physical distress and believe me kid I know my -------- from
my elbow by this time.
The two little cocaine sniffs have removed the lump from my chest and
throat for the first time in 15 hours or so. The sinister circumstance
is that this is "just a week today since my Coco went away and its all
up with poor Tommy now!" I shall put the case before Cros fully and
meanwhile run along and ask the chemist if he can suggest some patent
pulmonary purgative and promise me a purple plenitude of serene
slumber, stainless of bronchial trouble, immune from the perfidious and
frustrating pangs of intercostal inhibition, of respiratory
reluctances. the bane of bronchial burdens, the curse of my
cantankerous(?) chest, (and please observe how instantly the cocaine
settles itself in my style. The last few phrases, redundant rubbish --
flagged. Normally, I should have diagnosed that another dose was due,
and loaded some more alliterations and parenthesis on my ------- back!)
5:24. I do take a third; but that is only to complete the exodus to
Boulevard Reulet(?) from the impasse inferno. (Note - corrections and
cross corrections -- the rest is illegible) --
3+ 5:28. The Third Coco
Interesting to note that just 23 years ago -- early in '99 I was saving
Allen Bennett from his cycle of asthma, opium, morphine, cocaine,
chloroform, exhaustion, asthma -- recurring, (it took from 1 to 2
months to make the round trip) by sending him out to Ceylon. Perhaps I
made some good Karma when I saved my master's life (at the risk of my
own as it happened) perhaps some one I never thought of may be on the
way to save mine.
4+ 5:35. To cap the pyramid.
8:38 PM. I had a long delightful talk with a charming little chemist,
bought some iodine to paint my chest and some ether in case of a bad
night, played a little billiards, read some more Nordmann, drank some
hot milk, ate a small piece of bread, wrote Nordmann and P.S. to plead
my sanity -- and took several 5+ more sniffs of cocaine and one of
heroin! I did this dire deed quite deliberately. I seemed not worth
while to (?) my "fall from grace" but to treat the situation frankly,
get myself into a state of mind and body such that I could look at it
from the outside. Attempts to alternate the assassination and trammel
up his consequences would have been pitiful, inviting insincerity. My
plan is to begin again tomorrow, with the week's experience to guide me
as to what is wise. It is clear, for instance, that I can cut out the
cocaine completely without fear of being distressed and that I can
start with a two hour spell of 4 doses of heroin; having this
advantage, too, that I can make Reveille my time of waking which well
ensure early rising.
I am quite satisfied with strychnine to avert collapse and to control
craving. I am confident of my ability to adjust the hours of
"indulgence" cleverly enough to keep the "Storm-fiend" from the door. I
can rely on quinine in case of fever. My one weak spot is the original
emphysema -- asthma -- bronchitis; and I must find a sure fortress
against their ferocity, which was solely responsible for the present
"regrettable incident." E ---- G ---- will probably be able to help
there; and I dare say my own iodine and other defenses may turn out
impregnable. I am quite contented with my week's work and proud that
all moral attacks were detected and defeated. My sole uneasiness is as
to whether the severe physical assault had not a Freudian basis. To
that suggestion I reply with some conviction that fever and vomiting
were natural effects of the general strain ( as I have seen often in
past years) and that last night may well be set down to my imbecile
conduct in sitting on a damp log in an incipient drizzle after a long
cold walk in a heavy sweater to watch thirty "mudded oafs".
I blame myself, however, for carelessness in (a) observing my
physiological state in several obvious ways (b) keeping the rules of
hygiene and therapy, even those formally laid down in this record (c)
forcing myself to follow the prescribed course when unwise, e.g.
getting up and going out with a fever on me.
I am pleased with the frankness and conscientiousness of this record; I
think it full and free from all self-deception, stupidity, or
cowardice. I think it accesses justly the dangers, difficulties, and
determination which apply to the case. I feel that it has helped me and
will help others to audit accounts; and I am sure that the week's
teaching shows a good profit, judged either by the figures themselves
or by my demeanor and appearance. Unfortunately there are no figures
for the week previous but my memory is quite clear that I have been
taking heroin continuously fro many weeks; three or four doses to help
me get up and others practically all day at short intervals. As to
cocaine, I must have had at least two or three prolonged bouts of it
every week, plus a few "hairs of the dog" on most of the "off days".
Most of my mental and moral powers were seriously affected in various
ways while I was almost wholly dependent on them for physical energy,
in particular for sexual force, which only appeared after unusual
excesses, complicated by abnormal indulgence in alcohol. My creative
life had become spasmodic and factitious -- I could not even take
interest in any kind of work; what I did was forced, feeble and ill
sustained, dependent on drastic drugging even at that. I could not even
face the task of dictating important letters and shrank from contact
with business of all kinds. I could take no pleasure even in eating or
drinking except when more savagely spurred by the stimulants that
usual. I had become incapable of all human reaction, from love and self
respect to hatred and self preservation. I avoided washing, dressing,
shaving, as much as possible. I was unable to count money properly, to
inspect bills and so on; everything bored me. I could not even feel
alarm at obviously serious symptoms. My memory, though reliable, was
very dull. I refused to make any efforts.
It strikes me as astonishing that so complete a cachexia as this should
not have been accompanied by the slightest psychical disturbance! I had
no traces of hallucination or persecution-mania, no tendency to
duplicity or concealment, no delusions or defects of judgment; not one
(in short) of the classical psychoses which occur normally in cases far
less grave in other ways than mine. This is especially strange in view
of the fact that I had been subjected to extreme mental worry of many
kinds for many months and that I had lost entirely the faculty of sleep
which ensued only on (a) extreme exhaustion, say after fifteen hours of
painting and dictation, followed by perhaps 6 hours sexual frenzy (b)
hypnotics such as vernol. reinforced by desperate determination to
sleep or (c) heroic doses of strong alcoholic drinks, absinthe, brandy,
or hot rum.
Yet I have not even had so much as one unpleasant dream. The only
suspicious symptom has been occasional feelings of irritation,
disproportionate to the exciting cause, and of undue anxiety to avoid
allusions to subjects liable to annoy me. That I should have been able
to get back so nearly to normal good health -- on all planes -- in a
single week: this seems to me almost miraculous by the sombre standards
of the text books on drug neuroses.
10:40 PM. The above entry is a fair example of what I can do when
thoroughly drunk on a mixture of heroin and cocaine. But it should be
compared with a similar effort last month. Tonight I am clear, calm;
not too verbose, redundant, detailed or frenetic. The basis of the
entry is mental and moral health. I write what I want to write, without
excitement or effort. The drugs merely inhibit my inhibitions. On
previous occasions, one may observe on insane intensity, an impatient
fury. There is a delirious outburst and I am enraged at my slowness and
my lack of mastery. Tonight there is none of this. I fell myself in
full control of my faculties. Also there is no impulse to appeal to the
drugs to "drive like the devil". I no longer crave to push on from one
piece of work to another. Before, I have "speeded up" Pegasus though I
have had no idea where I want to go. The result has been that I have
often spent a furious night with the Hounds of Hell, hunting some
horrible hyena in the dark across sterile sands; I have finished the
work for the sake of which I started drugging myself and gone on with
some quite useless stuff like "Limericks" or some shapeless, idealess
ranting ruins of obscure and obscene turgidity. Mine inmost identity
says: To worship me take wine and strange drugs whereof I will tell my
prophet and be drunk thereof:" it is lawful to do this, for to worship
Him is to make him manifest, and so to fill the world with Truth and
Beauty. But I have erred in going to far; the worship has become forced
and fallen into fanatical frenzy which blasphemes Him. He bids us also
to "exceed by delicacy" to "drink by the eight and ninety rules of
art"; but I have exceeded by depravity and drunk by the three hundred
and ninety three rules of the toper. He gives his guarantee that this
wine, these drugs, will not harm me; but the condition is obviously
that expressed above. I must justify Him (and myself) by making myself
unchallengable master of these "means of grace". I must be as capable
of using them, and as confident in my capacity, as an engineer is of
handling high explosives; and every piece of work undertaken with the
aid of these tools, must prove by its perfection that his precepts and
his promises are wrought by Righteousness and tested by Truth.
In the past, despite my errors and excesses, these Orgia have brought
me beyond all previous human attainments and I must not fear to follow
the flag and fight the good fight with all my might. But I must not get
an arrow in my eye, like Harold of Hastings, and so lose control of my
English that they break out of their lines, drunken with victory, fall
into disorder, and perish beneath the lances of the invaders.
For the present, then, I must pursue my plan of suppressing the use of
drugs altoge ther. That duly done, I must lay down those "eight and
ninety rules of art" and keep them. I must be able to use heroin and
cocaine as adequately and masterly as Rembrandt used his paints. One
should not swear a nocturne with Rose Madder because one likes the
colour!
In practice, then, I go to bed instead of continuing this persistent
prating. 11:53 PM. So yes proclaim altoge ther! (I will NOT disgrace
this record by giving it the title "Hero versus Heroin").
Feb. 21
12:01AM I have painted my chest and throat with iodine. The last of the
phlegm seems to have come away. I don't expect to sleep soon with all
this stuff in me, in spite of last night's struggle and the shortness
of the final sleep. But my programme for the day is this:
on waking: Caf(ace)e and croissant
the first even hour: Reveille
Two hours later: Curfew
Four doses of heroin. No cocaine.
In case of physical trouble, treat symptoms as they arise without
narcotics. Walk in forest if fine.
(Provided money arrives)
4:26 to Paris
Dine with Laverne (?)
Look for partner for IX': on no account have anything to do with
31-666-31 unless the magnetic conditions are totally reversed. Use
partner aforesaid when found. Sleep early: wake early and repeat
Tuesday's programme: but 1 1/2 hours heroin in 3 doses.
Thursday ditto but 1 hour & 2 doses.
Friday ditto but 1 dose on waking.
Saturday ditto but 1 hour after waking.
Sunday ditto but 2 hours after waking.
Monday ditto but 3 hours after waking.
1+ 12:30 PM
2+ 1:00 PM Medium
3+ 1 (No entry)
4:44 PM. Vos(?) Paris. It has been a hard day. Chest never really free,
moral confusion, etc. Damp and dull. Had to use one or two extra
heroin. Letter form Algiers (?) Camille is there. What about journey?
Last night I had excited visions of your Epinal without reference to
Camille, vague phantasms of a marriage (suggested by seeing one
yesterday) and playing chess (next two lines gibberish)
PARABASIS
March 6
11:30 PM. Lea left last night for London. Awake till after 6 AM. Then
deep sleep (after much Nortyl) till 2 PM when Boucier(?) woke me with
difficulty. Heroin and a little cocaine. Vomited just before dinner.
This whole period since my return to Paris can be summarized "From Bad
to Worse". Lea is a violent spiritual poison to me. We love deeply and
truly, we sympathize, we do all we can to help each other; but we act
on each other like cancer. It's the formula of the independent growth
in one flesh. Already I feel a new man; I have even the direct
sensation that I am "cured". I wrote to Dr. Edward Cros last night
telling him the whole story and asked him to call and fix a sanatorium
for me where I can direct my own treatment. To submit to medical
treatment would be to destroy my whole theory and blaspheme the Gods
whose chosen minister I am!
I have been morally paralyzed by Leah's presence. I will now begin a
new diary describing the completion of my mastery of myself in the
matter of heroin and cocaine.
March 7.
2:10 AM Sleep still coy. (The rest of this short entry is
incomprehensible and unimportant)
2:30 Impressed upon me strongly that I must "go to Epinol" i.e. by
-------
March 8 (in pencil)
3:21 AM. heard from ---- and --------- A foul means of filth from a
Detroit garbage-can. Evening with Aimee.
4:50 PM Couldn't sleep till after 6 AM. Woke now.
9:30 PM. Bright and lively till 8:30 then weighted down with weariness.
Will take Nortyl till I sleep. Must call on Edward Cros at 2:30 PM
tomorrow. March 9.
Saw Cros (Method: Nortyl, slept till 1:30 AM. Took more Nortyl and was
picked(?) up at 11 AM.) He prescribes luminal and Dicome - les - Bains
(air) near Geneva. Dr. Bornums(?) I feel better already!
(Last entry)
In back of book in A.C.'s hand:
February 12, 1922 Paris
This is the last will and testament of me Edward Alexander Crowley. I
revoke all previous wills. I give and bequeath the whole of my property
to Leah Hirsig (of New York, N.Y. U.S.A. and Cefal(acg)u, Sicily) and I
appoint her my sole executrix.
signed: Edwd. Alex. Crowley
A note on flyleaf says: "In case I die before getting this will duly
executed, get two people who were in Paris on the date to sign as
witnesses, after finding out from a lawyer - without explaining the
circumstances - exactly how it should by done.
93 93/93
666

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