from Guy Debord

To Ivan Chtcheglov
2 September 1964
Dear Ivan

I believe that all of the people who prefer personal letters to the [situationists'] journal lack the ability to elevate themselves to the generality of the same problems. Thus, they don't see that it is the same position, the same thing, but more utilizable by more people. Of course, if it is a question of saying, "we are all better than that" (than all writing), this is obvious. It is one of our basic themes. But an epistolary correspondence, even with a friend, even if one is understood, seems to me further away from the importance of living than the most profoundly calculated texts. It is even less satisying.

I would love to have your opinion (rather than that of the entourage) of the "structure" of issue #9 [of Internationale Situationniste]. In comparison, not to an ideal (obviously), but quite simply to #8. The friends or the intelligent people close to us, who have already expressed themselves about it, find a great deal of progress: in the clarity and cohesion of the presentation. What do you think?

As we say in this [most recent] issue, in all cases, our principle preoccupation, above coming out with #10, will be to finish and publish several books. At this stage, we absolutely need it.

Unfortunately, I don't have (at the moment) any copies of Contre le Cinema to send to you. I am not "the editor," I have only provided "technical supervision." But I will have other copies, later on.

Naturally, we -- difficultly but always -- find producers or other sources of financing. It is this that most pisses off the people who would like to see us die of hunger; who console themselves that this doesn't happen because we are very rich (perhaps this must have happened ten years ago, right?)

But I don't share the quite psychoanalytic contempt of Kamouh [1] for those who can not pay cash. I believe that the world of money is complete fuckery. I will never recognize in it more value than in the billy club of a cop, even if it is incontestably effective when it is a question of killing with a heavy blow. In fact, I am never "in my pocket," because, unfortunately, I don't even have a pocket. But if I had been rich, I would find nothing better to ruin myself than to finance our enterprises and to aid more widely our friends, who quite merit it.

Sad conclusion of all this: I am absolutely penniless at the moment. It is the (frequent) inconvenience of living on credit. The majority of the monetary returns are slightly smaller than the debts. I would like to say, the very pressing debts. This past month, we -- Michele Redotte,[2] Denise (who also stays in Chailles[3]) and I, in a misery that strongly recalls the years in the quarter -- have stayed several times in the courtyard of la Grace-de-Dieu, which is quite charming. In reality, our current plight is clearly less serious than that of 1954. But many days the purchases of wine and cigarettes pose dramatic problems.

I have transmitted your letter to Michele Redotte. I think that she is happy. Because of the curtness of your letter, she is undoubtedly a little troubled.

Cordially yours, Guy

[1] Kamouh, psychoanalyst.

[2] A friend of Ivan Chtcheglov.

[3] Staying with Guy Debord.

(Published in Guy Debord, Correspondance, Volume 2, 1960-1964. Footnotes by Alice Debord. Translated from the French by NOT BORED! April 2005.)

To Contact NOT BORED!
ISSN 1084-7340.
Snail mail: POB 1115, Stuyvesant Station, New York City 10009-9998