Dear Neil,
Making paper white requires bleach and lots of it. Most dining halls are equipped with pure white napkins. Somewhere in the world, a town smells like sulfur, because you wiped your face with a thin sheet of paper instead of a cloth rag. Traditionally, ideas written on cocktail napkins are hot ideas cooked up during a party that need to be written down before they grow cold. I like to doodle and scribble haiku during or after a meal. It is sort of a nervous habit. One time, I was inspired by a book to fill a jacket pocket with napkins full of ideas. Most of my napkins contained poems or stories. When the pocket grew full, I decided to burn the thoughts on the spring equinox. That morning, I arose early and walked out to a church parking lot. I set the napkins down on a sheet, pulled out some scissors and cut my hair. Then I tried to ignite that pile containing my body and thoughts. At first, the lighter wouldn’t work. Then as I was about to give up it did. The ideas burned gloriously. All that was left behind was the sheet on which they had been set.

My mom had one big goal for this summer, an Omega Yard Sale, which would be the final yard sale of all time. So, for the duration of the summer, our house was filled with racks and racks of clothing. Whenever company is coming, my mom starts compulsively vacuuming. Now, it seems to me that when you walk into a house full of racks of clothing, you don’t think, “Boy this place needs a good vacuuming.” You think, “Wow, racks and racks of clothing.” You see shopping and vacuuming are my mother’s two obsessive-compulsive outlets. She buys clothes since it feels good to buy a bargain and she vacuums, I assume, because it is soothing. To my knowledge the yard sale still has not taken place.

I, on the other hand, managed to accomplish my goals for the summer. I wrote a bunch, emailed people, saw “Shanghai Noon”, got a driver’s license and much more. It would seem that when you set your goals to be your compulsions, it is easy to accomplish them.

Scenario:

You’re walking down the street and a man says, “Hey, take my sandwich, please.”
You eye the sandwich for signs of disease, say OK, eat the sandwich, and keep walking down the street.
Half-hour later the man comes back and says, “OK, you owe me a favor. Give me a dollar.”

Now, does the man have the right to make demands of you? You never asked for the sandwich. You just saw a free meal and took it. Why then do people suppose they owe their parents anything? Another example, today in a story about voteauction.com, some guy said it was a shame people sold their votes, since many people have died for the right to vote. Well, you know that’s awful kind of them to die like that, and I’m mighty thankful but it isn’t like I owe them for that. A gift can’t have new strings attached to it after you get it. I’m sorry if I’m wasting all the cool stuff my parents and society gave me, but I couldn’t help but to receive it, could I? So don’t blame me if I follow my compulsions instead of someone’s expectations. As Palahniuk said, “First your parents give you life; then they give you their’s.”

Last night, I went to a concert that was the final event of orientation. A band known as “Gran Turino” got on stage and played some fun pop-alt-ska. They have two drummers, a few kids on trumpet, and some nice synthesizers. So they got up there and encouraged everyone to get out of their seats and dance. The trouble was most of the people out of their seats weren’t dancing either. So there I was jumping to beat in my brown wool blazer and blue jeans thinking, these kids don’t know how to dance. Yet, dancing is the singularly most natural activity for adolescents. Dancing is, of course, the method by which a mate is attracted and seduced. It proves you can hear, move smoothly, and maintain a high energy output level for a while. What more does one need in a life partner?

Lately, I’ve taken to sleeping in public, on benches outside and whatnot. I’m not sure why I like the idea and the practice. A good nap right in the middle of everything just feels right. Maybe I’m just continuing my hobo training. Maybe it is some new compulsion emerging from my psyche.

I gave up on the concert and went out and looked for trouble. All I found was a pile of concrete sand. I proceeded to create a sand castle and sand village with sand walls and sand towers. It rained last night, so the sand was especially good for molding. That was about the third sand village complex that I have made so far. The campus is apparently always under construction, so there are plenty of chances to make them. I wonder what the reaction of the construction workers is. Do they smile and laugh? Or do they shake their head and scowl? Let’s hope they don’t have some compulsion about keeping a tidy work site. It doesn’t seem like a perfectionist could last too long in construction. The best part of a concrete sand pile is it looks like moon dust. After I get done I need to wash my hands and shake out my boots, but there is always a little bit left.

Today is the autumnal equinox. Fall started about thirty minutes ago. Which leaves me about 23½ hours to get a haircut. I’d better get busy!