I am charmed by the coincidence and by the fact that you are sensitive to the beauty of the sandpaper:[1] thus you know that it will be necessary to pay attention to the books placed in its immediate vicinity of it I wanted to displease and [to do so] by composing a kind of book in which there wasn't a single phrase written by me. Youthful folly! Since then I have understood that it is worse when I write the book myself.
I must indicate to you that the dedication that you have photocopied for me is an obvious fake, the work of a phony. It isn't my style, not my handwriting, nor my signature. Besides, I have not written more than thirty [such dedications] in all, perhaps 10 or 12 for the [Society of the] Spectacle. Thus, never for someone who is unknown to me, a journalist or someone else.
See you soon. Cordially,[1] The cover of Memoires, [a copy of which was] dedicated on 30 October 1991, evoking the recipient's childhood, spent in the studio of a father who was a wheelwright and, later on, the phrase of a barge-owner on the quays: "Better not wipe your ass with it . . ." [Translator: Memoires was published with a cover made out of sandpaper, and so damaged the books it was placed next to.]
(Published in Guy Debord Correspondance, Vol 7: Janvier 1988-Novembre 1994 by Librairie Artheme Fayard, 2008. Translated from the French by NOT BORED! March 2009. Footnote by the publisher, except as noted.)