I woke up with a headache, took some advil, and it went away for awhile. But it came back. It never was extraordinarily bad, thankfully, but it didn’t want to leave.
Nonetheless, my headache made concentration in the day less than ideal. It didn’t prevent me from enjoying how nice it was outside, nor did it entirely prevent me from reading something light — Secret Agent 666. This is an odd book about Aleister Crowley’s work for the British Secret Service. Apparently, there is more than enough evidence to confirm he was an agent and one can trace elements of his work by seeing when he made contact with other known agents. Spence is not using this to suggest his wickedness or interest in the occult was fake, but rather they helped him become an ideal agent. He would be willing to do what was needed without question, and his interest in the occult helped create a great cover. One of the interesting claims of the book is that he might have been involved with the sinking of the Lusitania by feeding propaganda to the Germans to make them think the ship was a threat.
