Harold Pinter died yesterday. What a fierce fucking genius. Such timing.
I feel like I heard yesterday that an old lover of mine died, and I'm just starting to feel it now.
I mean, Aristophanes was already dead. Aeschylus, Sophocles, no big surprises. Shakespeare. The old poets I used to be groupie to. But this one is a hit. There's no question about that.
I don't know if anyone has rss feeds to the comments, but I feel like making it lively around here. Please feel free to join in, despite the general tumbleweed. It's a mild climate around here.
I've just remembered. There was one before this. Sarah Kane.