everyone's a poet.

The other day I was knitting my new beautiful black sweater, and I dropped six stitches because I got distracted by Rambo.

Such clashes of temperament seem common in life lately.

There is a new (?) kind of poetry floating around in which people (usually teenage girls) go through old books and underline or circle random words and phrases to form poetry. This could be worthy of praise, were they not stealing entire phrases of another writer's work. And ruining my reading experience in the process.

I picked up a copy of Seven Pillars of Wisdom at a used bookstore the other day. It was written by T. E. Lawrence (of Arabia) and details his adventures during the Arab revolt against the Turks in WWI. It is filled with panoramas of crushing heat and thirst, and the personalities that the sun's anvil creates. Filled with wonders and terrors, a testament to the very nature of mankind, its beauty and its barbarity.

And, in black ink, on every other page, you will find "poems" like this:

"convert!
the difficulty
of being
Arab."

Out of all the words and all the messages you could have found, this is what you chose? Really? In this book, about Arabs, about their complexity and humanity, all you can think to do is convert them? Call me a snob, but I think I need to buy a new copy.