[Patroclus was tired. Having realised that his relationship with his cousin (with Troilus of Troy and there was no point ignoring that stark truth) was irreparable and having endured a painful time at the party (a zombie-psychiatrist with a taste for brains; perhaps he'd look back and laugh someday), he thought he might do something to cheer ( Read more... )

( welcome to the creepshow )

On the Moscow river, there's a statue of Peter the Great. Local myth has it that it was actually originally a statue of Columbus, built for some Latin American country or other, who rejected it because it didn't look a thing like Christopher Columbus.

It likely doesn't look a thing like Peter the Great, either.

[Patroclus was beginning to think that moving to New York had been the biggest mistake of this mortal life. Part of him wanted to scurry home, tail between his legs. Maybe he could join the army and be what he had always been: a soldier, given to following orders. (Maybe he sold himself short with that very thought ( Read more... )

I admit that I've avoided this site since moving to New York, thanks largely to the fear of being brutally honest to strangers. Still, now that I'm in no danger of insulting anyone with unsolicited, if truthful, opinions, it seems a good time to say hello ( Read more... )

[Honesty should not have been such a grave affliction for a noble man like Patroclus. Honesty should not have resulted in him upsetting his wife and sons but it had done so. Late on Monday evening, following another long day at work, he had a frank conversation with his wife. Too frank. She asked if he was happy. Under normal circumstances, he'd ( Read more... )