Those I count as friends will know my appearances in This Life are infrequent, erratic and brief, to the extent that I must frequently apologize for missed rehearsals and other appointments. My utter inability to foretell the hour and duration of my visits also demands I stand away from undertakings into which I am properly inclined to throw myself with body, soul and mind. This reticence is unnatural to me, and for that I apologize. My friends have never sought an explanation, but rejoice in my company as I do in theirs: an' I am indebted to them for that reason.
That I have not offered an explanation is only because it is so fantastickal a history I fear no person would credit it, and because its telling would occupy time I prefer to spend in more happier intercourse.
But my social circle has widened, and I am undeservedly blessed with sympathetic companions of high intelligence and knowledge. Therefore dear friends, if you have patience to spare and can suspend your faith in reason long enough to listen to my tale, I have decided to record all that has happened to me in my protracted but intermittent life, and what I know of those who have shared it with me, leaving nothing out except what I can in good faith no longer remember.
The reason behind the occult title of my journal will be explained to those curious enough to read it, but for those whose demands on their attentions do not permit that luxury, it refers to daimons and genii of the most uplifting sort, as well as the more infernal kind, and implies no blasphemy or irreligion, excepting toward certain characters whose hypocritical beliefs disqualify them from the protection of the Church and make them fair targets of ridicule.
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