“Bela Lugosi looking fellow” what great prose, and what another wonderful piece of writing, I’m hooked on this series! The I Ching prophecy in hindsight is very apt.
Grady actually said this, and it was so apt. There's a lot of hidden research in these pieces from reading across diary entries, essays, biographies and interviews which enables me to lend some colour to these individuals and events, bringing them to life as best as I can.
Crowley had once tried to get Louis Wilkinson's wife at the time, the poet Frances Gregg, certified to be confined to a mental institution to get her out of the way. This is recounted in the letters of her lifelong friend, John Cowper Powys, who knew Wilkinson very well too and had met Crowley once in 1932. She was a real sylph.
I've read some Cowper Powys, but not gone deeply into that circle. I know Louis wrote on his work and that they were friends, but will now have to look at those letters, thanks!
I am reading his In Defence of Sensuality now, it's own thelema.
But you know you figure into the Powys family by name? For when in 1920 his sister Marian undertook enterprise to have a child all on her own, the unnamed unknown father was referred to obliquely by her siblings as Peter Grey after a boy in an amusing nineteenth century childrens' novel called Holiday House by Catherine Sinclair. Her son, John Cowper Powys' nephew, was named Peter Powys-Grey. She was an expert lace-maker and ran a lace shop in New York and died in 1972, "a near cult-figure among the flower children," a bit of Gros Points de Venise in hand. Not to distract from the goat with lace.
and another book to add to the list...I currently share a name with a hairdresser and an academic who like me suffers from the frequent misspelling of Grey/Gray. I hope they are as amused by any confusions as I am..
“Bela Lugosi looking fellow” what great prose, and what another wonderful piece of writing, I’m hooked on this series! The I Ching prophecy in hindsight is very apt.
Grady actually said this, and it was so apt. There's a lot of hidden research in these pieces from reading across diary entries, essays, biographies and interviews which enables me to lend some colour to these individuals and events, bringing them to life as best as I can.
Thank you Peter ... waiting for each episode to drop ... I'm in awe, what cooking!
Crowley had once tried to get Louis Wilkinson's wife at the time, the poet Frances Gregg, certified to be confined to a mental institution to get her out of the way. This is recounted in the letters of her lifelong friend, John Cowper Powys, who knew Wilkinson very well too and had met Crowley once in 1932. She was a real sylph.
Perique tinctures very well to make scents.
I've read some Cowper Powys, but not gone deeply into that circle. I know Louis wrote on his work and that they were friends, but will now have to look at those letters, thanks!
Tincture also noted.
I am reading his In Defence of Sensuality now, it's own thelema.
But you know you figure into the Powys family by name? For when in 1920 his sister Marian undertook enterprise to have a child all on her own, the unnamed unknown father was referred to obliquely by her siblings as Peter Grey after a boy in an amusing nineteenth century childrens' novel called Holiday House by Catherine Sinclair. Her son, John Cowper Powys' nephew, was named Peter Powys-Grey. She was an expert lace-maker and ran a lace shop in New York and died in 1972, "a near cult-figure among the flower children," a bit of Gros Points de Venise in hand. Not to distract from the goat with lace.
and another book to add to the list...I currently share a name with a hairdresser and an academic who like me suffers from the frequent misspelling of Grey/Gray. I hope they are as amused by any confusions as I am..
The mention of Perique reminded me of this: https://www.smokingpipes.com/smokingpipesblog/single.cfm/post/the-return-the-beast
You are a braver man than I am if you give this a go!
I think it’s only part Perique though.
Fantastic! Sadly, The Beast is out of stock. The comments, though...