36 quotes from Diary of a Drug Fiend: ‘Having to talk destroys the symphony of silence.’. It’s not quite as much fun to write a review when it seems everyone is basically in agreement. Crowley was not as evil as folklore suggests, and he was a lot more. Diary of a Drug Fiend and Other Works by Aleister Crowley [Aleister Crowley] on *FREE* shipping on qualifying offers. If you are interested in the.
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The Diary of a Drug Fiend. Dust Jacket – Upper Cover.
The Diary of a Drug Fiend –
Dust Jacket – Lower Cover. Dust Jacket – Upper Interior. Dust Jacket – Lower Interior. Bound in blue cloth. Priced at 7 shillings and sixpence. Leah Hirsig took Crowley’s dictation, in longhand, allwords. A Life of Aleister CrowleySt. Personal observation of the item. Comments by Aleister Crowley: I have myself made extensive and elaborate studies of the effects of indulgence in stimulants and narcotics.
I have a vast quantity of unpublished data. I am convinced that personal idiosyncrasy counts for more in this matter than all the other factors put together. The philosophical phlegmatic temperament of the Chinese finds opium sympathetic.
But the effect of opium on a vivacious, nervous, mean, cowardly Frenchman, on an Englishman with his congenital guilty conscience or on an American with his passion for pushing everything to extremes is very different; the drug is almost certain to produce disaster.
Hill and Wang, I was, in fact, able to re-enter public life after years of seclusion. This, too, came true. The comment in the Yi King promises successful progress and advises recourse to law. My progress was beyond my utmost hopes and I found myself forced to begin several lawsuits. The further comment describes the successive phases of the affair. The first phase shows its subject fettered and without resource.
During my first month in England I was penniless, without proper clothes to wear, and obliged to walk miles to save the cost of a telephone fiary or an omnibus. In the second phase one suddenly finds everything easy. The third phase shows a man getting to grips with the real problems; he meets some rebuffs, has some disappointments, but makes no mistakes. The third stage of my campaign could not be better described.
Diary of a Drug Fiend and Other Works by Aleister Crowley
This was fulfilled by my being commissioned to write The Diary of a Drug Fiend and the present book, as well as several things for the English Review. Sullivan had suggested my trying Grant Richards, diarry with a plan for marketing the existing stock, and secondly with a proposal to write my memoirs. He promised to put in a good word for me as he knew Grant Fjend well and was influential as being a man of sound business and literary judgment. I therefore called and made my proposals.
But after some consideration, Grant Richards could not see his way to accept my terms. I think we were both reluctant to part; and one night I was inspired to try him with a third artificial minnow.
I would write a shocker on the subject which was catering to the hysteria and pururience of the sex-crazed public: I proposed as a title The Diary of a Drug Fiend and sketched out a synopsis of its contents on a sheet of notepaper.
This was mostly bluff. I had not really any clear idea of my story.
Full text of “The diary of a drug fiend”
I took this round to Grant Richards, who said it was not in his line. I asked him to suggest a likely firm. He said Hutchinson or Collins. Neither name meant anything to me. I gave Collins the first chance simply because he was on my way home. Invited to interview the responsible man, I found myself wondering who he was — I had surely met him before. He shared diaryy feeling and was the first to discover the source. The gods had certainly started a new drama.
The accident of this man, J. Beresford his name is, being the literary advisor of Collins probably made all the difference to the fate of the book. I contracted to deliver the manuscript within a month.
My idea was to rush the book through as a suitable for holiday reading. I wired to Paris for the Ape, who hurried over. We sat down at once to work. It gave me a chance to boost the W of Fiendd.
I was able to show how the application of the principles increases efficiency as the profane deem impossible. Beresford was delighted with the manuscript and in high hopes of making a big hit. Unfortunately, my plan for publishing the book in August was not adopted. For various reasons they kept it hanging about till November. This annoyed me greatly. I expected its publication to arouse a tempest in the teapot around which the old women of criticism nod and talk scandal.
I wanted to be on the spot when the fur began to fly, so as to give as good as I got. However, the gods have their own ideas. By this they pledged themselves to pay me an advance equivalent to the subscription sales of The Drug Fiend. They promised to let me have this before November 9th.
Crowley has not the literary fascination of a De Quincey or the power and stark realism of a Zola. The book teems both with an immense fertility of incidents and idea; and with an amazingly rich crop of rhetoric. It is impossible to say that at any moment in the career of Peter and his wife do we seem to be in touch with reality. It is all a phantasmagoria of ecstasies, despairs, and above all verbiage. He went wild and clutched me by the hair, and forced open my jaws with his finger and thumb.
I struggled od kicked and scratched, but he was too strong. He got it out and put it in his cfowley mouth. Then he hit me in the face as I sat. I adore thee, Evoe! I adore thee, I. Crowley suddenly leaves these slightly disgusting surroundings, and removes his young people to a wondrous place of treatment mainly by addresses and incantation.
He declares that the place exists on this carnal globe, and is willing to act as an intermediary should any reader habitually breakfast on heroin and desire to return to bacon and eggs. There is a certain compelling power about the descriptions of degradation.
They have a truer ring than the ultra-fantastic patches—although these are credible enough as a rough translation into the speech of every day from a language only heard and understood under frightful and inhuman, if ecstatic conditions. However, Aleister Crowley assures us that it is a true story, rewritten only so far as was necessary to conceal personalities, and surely Mr. Let us then take him at his word, with such mental reservations as will obtrude themselves in spite of our earnest desire to believe.
This is not, as one might be tempted to believe, a part of the ravings of a drug fiend. The Diary is divided into three books. The time came, crowkey, when cocaine seemed to lose the power to lift them up to the heights. They experimented fined heroin and found that its effect was quite different, but very agreeable.
Tiring of Druv, they went to Capri, and it was there that they fell into the hands of a clever swindler who robbed them of all their ready cash and their jewels, and worst of all, of their supply of drugs. They were obliged to cable to London for money and, until it came, to suffer for lack of their usual stimulants. The first book ends with their decision to return to England. She tells fifnd they fell lower and lower, living in filthy lodgings in London, not because they could afford no better, but because their eccentricities of conduct would attract less attention there.
Their fienf antics drove all the servants from the house, and the two cowley fiends continued to live there in indescribable filth. Their meals, when they cared for any, were brought in from a near-by inn. Then Sir Peter shot himself presumably by accident, and in the excitement of nursing him, Lou forgot all about drugs.
The result was that by the time Sir Peter recovered from his wound, they were both apparently cured of the drug habit. But it did not last. They returned to London and fell lower than before. It meant, among diend things, that they might have all the cocaine and heroin they wanted. The only condition was that they should keep charts and record on these charts how much they took and why they took it. So Sir Peter was set to work inventing a helicopter, while Lou looked after his comfort, and there you are.
As might be expected, there is a great deal of mysticism mixed up with the cult practiced by the members of the Abbey of Thelema. Here, for example, is a midnight invocation recited by King Lamus, the Big Lion. He stood facing ddiary north and accompanied his speech with a series of complicated gestures.
In a deep solemn voice, he said: