Chicago born and Third Coast bred, East Coast educated and New Yorker at heart, Atherton Bartelby is a graphic designer, journalist, and photographer currently residing in Honolulu, Hawaii.
Atherton has been referred to in the past (by both enemies and friends) as a “runaway train”: strange, mystical, and extremely creative. He is the life of the party, always managing somehow to steer the topic of discussion to something absolutely bizarre. He delights in shock value, and tends to focus more on himself than on any prey in his field of vision, which is secondary to him, anyway, as men never seem to be lacking, whether or not they meet his admittedly rather high standards. He is simplistic about his desires and will settle for anything as long as he can be momentarily satiated.
This easy-to-get-hard-to-keep game makes him desired, but he is not the sort to stick around. In fact, he maintains an extremely exclusive circle of friends, and even they never seem to reach the deeper recesses of his mind. His stories are always changing (and are sometimes, like the majority of this short biography, which was written by his younger sister, not even his own); his goals and aspirations are never fixed; he guards his truth fiercely. His cunning makes him a good journalist and an even better thinker; his creativity makes him an award-winning designer.
Atherton thoroughly enjoys higher-end film of the Criterion variety, an engaging Triple Crown Of Horse Racing, reading any truly impressive writer, and thrilling chess games that allow him to conclude them with his flawless, trademarked razvyaska. He also appreciates the postal system, a proper opera, laughing up toward the sun with his close friends on the beach all day long, an emotionally moving ballet, the complete oeuvres of Nina Simone, H. L. Mencken and Paul van Dyk, and skinny-dipping in the ocean…at midnight.
He may generally always be seen around town in a car that someone else bought for him, and takes his frequent Café Américanos too hot, too sweet, and with a straw.











One seldom sees such an ego.
Thanks, I guess.
If you had taken the time to read through this blog even a little bit, however, you would have seen that this was not ego but, in fact, irony.
There is all the difference.
One seldom does, but how fortunate we are when we do!
If only the commenter knew where this piece originated, n’est-ce pas?
*wink*
I know, geez. Can we have some poetic license, or do we have to put a disclaimer on everything? Say, “oh, by the way, this was written by someone else about me and it’s supposed to be funny, so take it with a grain of salt and some tequila, kthnx!” Jesus. Have some fun people, I promise it won’t kill you.
Seriously!
Proposed Curious Affairs Disclaimer: The characters described herein are real; so is the narrator. The narrator writes fiction, however, so therefore retains all poetic license to semi-fictionalize certain events, insert random “Sex And The City” quotations at any moment, and to treat certain events with supreme irony. So just sit back, read, have some fun, and laugh.