Last night it was announced that Harold Pinter won the Nobel in Literature. The quote on the site was: "who in his plays uncovers the precipice under everyday prattle and forces entry into oppression's closed rooms" and in the NYT this morning "...made an art form out of spare language and unbearable silence". Damn, his work sounds painful. I've actually read "The Birthday Party" a while ago, but don't really remember much of it. Way to go liberal arts education.
Oh, and happy Yom Kippur, atone for me.
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