Dream as if You will Live Forever, Live as if You will Die Tomorrow

I think my leisure reading pattern is becoming more and more peculiar these days.

As a getaway (i.e. excuse) from the more than cruel 'reality', I think I need to write my stageplay list for the coming seasons. The way I deal with what I am suppose to do is always like the way that an ostrich covers its head in the sand. Anyhow, I got a very exciting (for me) list so far (and surprise, suprise, it is getting longer) and cannot wait to cross them off one by one sooner or later!

Harold Pinter:

'However, I find it ironic that I have come here to receive this distinguished award as a writer, and that at the moment I am writing nothing and can write nothing. I don't know why. It's a very bad feeling, I know that, but I must say I want more than anything else to fill up a blank page again, and to feel that strange thing happen, birth through fingertips. When you can't write you feel you've been banished from yourself.'

Mother:

'Somtimes I think I have been sitting like this. I somtimes think I have always been sitting like this, alone by an indifferent fire, curtains closed, night, winter.'

Just want to mark my 27th and the men I been craving this year...:D

The mighty sexy Danish badass

Alas! Since I cannot write a review for all the British drama that I have seen (the list is far too long...), at least I can start to write one in another category.

Spoilers alert (well, all my reviews are anyway)/random trivia/personal impression (i.e. not very good in organizing my thoughts).

Read a bit. Still writing, still confused. Continue to search anything Scandinavian, and listen to a Danish radio.

Finished another Harold Pinter's short play collection, and found myself surprisingly enjoy it than his other works. Also, unexpectedly read an American writer's, Thomas Wolfe, little book about 'The Story of a Novel'. It speaks my heart, that thin book, very much.