Read about 8,000 books and journals over the long weekend, and now I'm cranky and hate everything. Really. This ungenerous post of Peli's about sums it up.

Ali says patiently maybe I would be happier if I didn't read 8,000 books of poems on my time off. And I say to myself, can we really call it reading. More like fishing. I went fishing. I usually catch a couple keepers every time I go out in the boat. It is exactly as isolating and low-yield a pastime, reading. Ah well.

In her poem "The Distance" Anne Pierson Wiese refers to the art of poetry as the highest calling of humanity, and I'm afraid I share that grim view. It gives me endless "I too dislike it" feelings. I'd be much better off if I could let it go.