schtuff part infinite

Okay I shall not post now about my extremely boring life at the moment. I've been a total recluse in London the last three days but I really needed the space and time alone, not to reconstruct, not to forget, but to not-think. Nothing interesting about that really, except I've been catching up on film and yesterday wandered into the National Portrait Gallery for the annual BP exhibition and chanced upon the Ondaatje wing which was endowed by Christopher Ondaatje, brother of Michael Ondaatje. And in it, shocker of shockers, he's described as financier and writer. WRITER??? WRITER?? This from the man who wrote the odious, self-aggrandizing "The Maneater of Punanai" (pun clearly not intended) about his travels in the East of Sri Lanka hunting down a maneating tiger which he did not even succeed at. And in the book, he has some digs at fellow writer/brother Michael. Do NOT. Even. Get. Me. Started. on a comparison. ANYhoo.