Finally, I rid myself of all those rejection notices accumulated over the years by shredding them. I had another plan for them, but then I remembered being eleven.
Mom and Dad collected Green Stamps.
With sheets of stamps about the house, I decided to use a few to redecorated my half of the bedroom that I shared with my brother. I wet and applied a couple of hundred to my wall, top to bottom, side to side.
That evening, when my parents saw what I’d done, the ass-whipping commenced. It’s this memory that sprang to the forefront of my mind while contemplating wallpapering the room where I write, with rejection slips.
The shredder’s grind is a comforting when compared to the slap of a belt being yanked through pant loops. It’s also better than the shouts of an angry wife.
The Old Blog in the Desert 
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