Marital Crisis in Saugerties

A rest area in Connecticut

Sir–I have received your letter. To the vague & general charge contained in it I must naturally be at a loss how to answer–I shall therefore confine myself to the tangible act which you are pleased to allege as one of the motives for your present proposition. Lady La Badarian received no "dismissal" from my house in the sense your unsavory, slopehead amanuensis has attached to the word–she left Saugerties by medical advice, after the house became infested by Fleas to which she is highly allergic–she parted from me in apparent–and on my part–real harmony. It was only after this period that I suggested to her the expedience of residence with you and Mrs. Chong–owing to the embarrassment of my present circumstances–viz–the seizure of my bank account by the IRS–an organization with which you have some knowledge, having swindled them for years in your capacity as proprietor of the Luau Dragon. I am in a Circumstance in which I am forced contractually to continue my Work for The Aristocrat Magazine, irrespective of being paid for it–I cannot afford a lawyer–the property not spirited to your house by my wife’s brothers–one of whom assaulted me, screaming something in Chinese–when I answered the door in my least-attractive bathrobe–has been seized by persons whom I can only think–owing to a thorough grounding in genius-Biography–to call bailiffs. Your calling me a "round-eye," "son of a bitch," "drunk," & etc is not going to help us think our way out of this disastrous Situation–even if we were disposed to view it as a disaster–and–beyond that–as one which we entirely wished to Repair.–I am ignorant of any "Maltreatment" of your daughter on my part–indeed–to any observer–it is I who have been maltreated–often physically–the police have come twice–for no other reason than not being able to–as I admit–support–indulge–ratify–much less enhance–her Materiality–which I must–and you will forgive me for this–characterize as grotesque. It is true that women with children become Beasts–and forgivably so–and it is much in Nature that they should begin to view men as Wallets, Dromedaries, & etc, which may be exchanged for Another should the opportunity present itself before the loss of Sexual Desirability. We accept this, being Men of the World–I have met your wife–and we must do the best we can with the Tools with which we are left at the moment of Disaster. As to your question as to what money I can send to support "my" children–only one of whom is mine–as you, for your part, shell out possibly a dollar a day for rice and fish-paste to feed the five of them–a dollar which–I remind you–you have probably concealed from the authorities–I can send no money–I have none–and as for the Camper you have demanded on behalf of my wife–that vehicle would have long since been Impounded had it not–as it happened–been in the shop–owing to a transmission problem–and had I not used an extra Key to recover this vehicle from the Yard where it was being held against payment of the Bill I should at present have no Residence whatsoever–much less one with a Stove which allows me sometimes to have hot food.–I will not send my wife–or you–this vehicle–in which I am endeavouring to make my escape–to Canada–and in which I am obligated to live. To be perfectly honest–though you raise, in your old-world way, the frightful specter of eventual Reconciliation–I have been down that road before–& realized this morning–waking up in a Camper–and urinating into a Jug–before going into a McDonald’s (staffed by loafing exotics not so crafty as the people of the Celestial Empire) to buy a coffee with some of the $116 dollars I realized from the sale of what I salvaged from my library–that I have never been happier in my life.–This is something we–or I–must Consider. Your gift of a flea-ridden Shar Pei–on one of your barbarous holidays–and then the subsequent deluge of Events–has Liberated me–in a Heraclitan way–which is to say–via Hazard–from a situation–and a marriage–which I can only describe as Monstrous. Though Capable of guilt–I have always tried to do my best–and to add to my lustre as a Husband–and I think this must be Biological, for I can think of no reason why I should endeavour to please your Daughter–much less live with her–nor for that matter can I understand why I have not had her Arrested–for acts of Violence against my person–many of them occurring–as in the case of her "boxer’s fracture" of the hand–when I was asleep–I must confess myself well pleased to be rid of your Daughter. As for the children–the three spawned by the dry cleaner are Bitches–and my own daughter–this is not determined–has been trained to regard me–and doubtless shall always regard me–Claude La Badarian–as a farting Masterpiece of Sloth. I will miss none of them–and I will not weep for the lost chance of a Paradisiacal Marriage–when it is obvious that the only Component lacking–to keep your daughter in a state of Philosophy–let alone ecstasy–is–and has always been–Money. She thinks that a penis is a lever one grabs when one wants Money. I have been to your house, Sir: the rose does not blow, to be poetical, too far from the trellice. I am an Artist–you do not know what one is–and I must shape my own Course through the world. I will in no way reveal to you my Location–you have promised to "help me" before–and the result has been in one instance public Embarrassment–the removal to the Hospital–when I was merely having trouble with a section of SECOND NOVEL and hadn’t slept in six days–and in the other case–a Beating. Nor, Sir, will I under any circumstance return to New York State, as I am Wanted there–not only for the things you are aware of–but also for beheading–in a delusion of Universe-mastery–an animal which had ravaged my Adirondack chair with its stinking Excrements–and which happened to belong to the Saugerties Chief of Police. I can not "come and get" my wife–I do not wish to–and as for your promise to "punish" me I can only say "Do your worst"–failing to add–more because of haste than for any lingering respect–several Racist epithets. My Property is seized–even my copyrights may shortly belong, I have no doubt–to the Government–I am a Renegade in a Camper–which I bought with my own money–and to which my Wife has no claim–except in law–and there has never been a happier man. I do not, as you suggest, question the "propriety" of your interference–I merely point out that there is nothing to interfere with–for I have transformed–as the Modern Artist must–into a Vapor. Unless I run a Stop Light–which I am very unlikely to do, since I am an excellent driver–especially on lorazepam–none of you sons of bitches will ever see me again–and as for my Wife–she may be your problem–it is possible she is God’s problem–but she is not my problem. Had things gone differently–from Birth–had I not been a Genius–had I not met your daughter while "antiquing"–which is not to say that she is an Antique–(she may well make a good life with the excellent "Kermit" Chen–whatever his original name was–and he a good death with her–so long as he is heavily Insured–otherwise she will hurl him into the Gutter)–we should all have been spared Pain & Vexation–no one more than the man now liberated to his Artistic destiny & who has the honour to be

yr. Most obedt. & very humble Sert. LA BADARIAN

Next Week: Art’s Many Difficulties