Forgive my lateness in responding to you. They seized me the other day, without any warning, telling me that I was in an irregular military situation that even bordered on insubordination. I was thus a Sapper of the Guard.[1] I immediately made use of diverse mental and physical troubles (it so happens I am asthmatic) that landed me in the observation ward of a military hospital, from which I only got out yesterday, definitely reformed, after having demoralized the army passable well. During that time, [Gil] Wolman represented the band[2] at a congress on urbanism,[3] whose program of festivities I belatedly send you. Enrico Baj left excluded.
For the collective declaration, if you do not see the necessity of it, then it isn’t needed.
In Brussels, we spoke of your next trip to Paris. I am now in a position to put you up, quite uncomfortably, it is true. I hope that you can come soon.
Cordially,[1] Translator: a Napoleonic foot soldier circa 1811.
[2] Translator: the Lettrist International: Wolman, Debord, Michele Bernstein, and Mohamed Dahou.
(Published in Guy Debord Correspondance, Vol "0": Septembre 1951 - Juillet 1957: Complete des "lettres retrouvees" et d l'index general des noms cites by Librairie Artheme Fayard, October 2010. Translated from the French by NOT BORED! March 2011.)