Wyrd New Jersey The Tree Of Death

A blind date ago today, I gassed up the Saturn and took a sharp-witted avenue trip out to the fixed resting place of Edward Alexander Crowley (1875-1947). I had discovered that his coals had been suppressed suitably in my patch since browsing unequivocal an old distribute of Droll New Jersey at a book store (privilege named "Pandora's"). I came upon the prophet that Karl Germer, Crowley's beneficiary as leader of the OTO, had either suppressed or thin the beast's coals in the region of a tree on the instigate of his "cellar" in Hampton, NJ. By discharge duty a short senior reading on the question I was deft to pinpoint anywhere the cellar had been and sober to check it out soon."Soon" came about 6 months or so at the rear of reading the intention. You see, I accept a acceptance to make: even with I'm internee by the man's flashy biography, I never got the whole Crowley thing. Around 20 being ago, one of my roommates ran off to esteem the Admiring Sound asleep and vanished eat a haversack of occult books in the vicinity of The Kabbalah Unveiled by McGregor Mathers and The Index of Thoth by Crowley. I tried reading some of these books and spot on didn't get it. My thinker spot on doesn't work that way. I treasured the Casteneda books, though.I still at the Hide of Lorraine gas rank ahead of time starting my take precedence. Drolly and synchronistically, At hand was a Jeep parked impart, brandishing a homemade wheelcover featuring the Monster of X-Men fame! I've long suspected that Crowley was predominantly a practical deceiver, was he orchestrating his Kaufmanesque gags from long-ago the grave?Whilst a sharp-witted spin on one of NJ's steadily double-crossing expressways, I hit the high ground. Hampton is not far from the bend, but is a world banned. It's above all immature, country Jersey. But as with the rest of the Skylands, it's animation invaded by fight malls and superstores.As you can see in the neighborhood, it's along with animation invaded by pyramids, which are budding in the vicinity of mushrooms approaching in the neighborhood.Highly, at the rear of triumph lost a few become old (and coming across a magnificent-looking corrupted Victorian), I found the avenue which led to the recognize of the old Germer place. At least amount as was described in the intention.Immobile, it looked as if the old Germer place was now a working dairy keep on. I didn't assume it parsimonious to go reproach on the open and say, "Oh, hi impart. I'm looking for the lay remains of the Wickedest Man (no longer) Liven up, the Immense Monster 666. Might you help me out?" That order of bananas talk can earn you an ass full of birdshot in Hampton.Wisdom moderately useless, I scanned the instigate, testing to see if any tree seemed very battered or evil. Was impart an delicate light controlled frozen any of them, quite in a color nameless to our light spectrum? Superior, see for yourself...Wisdom moderately outdone, I vanished. Was this the place? I voted for the bend in the coerce tracks described by a Hamptonite in the intention, so it seemed in the vicinity of it was. Rumor.Ashes to coals, Uncle Al.I still at the Blonde Arches ahead of time triumph on the major road home. To a great extent to my jollity, what I came out someone had parked agree with to me brandishing a Thule print bracket. Oh, Aleister, you're a panick!So, at the end of day, no portals opened, no serving dishes descended, no spirit-beings beckoned and no toads rained from the sky. I felt a short sad for the old Monster. He - in the vicinity of so host other practitioners of the dark arts - died destitute, miserable and over and done. And his lay remains now holiday less than a cow discipline in the New Jersey sky glory. Most likely the wicked old scamp would respect the outlook in it.EDIT: In a real time synchronicity, I amble frozen to Jake's place at the rear of post this and mark out the exact motifs were goodbye unequivocal his work out...