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rjmccall's Journal

8 April 1982
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The product of a Russian scientist, his Lithuanian lover, and what was then a radical medical operation, Sergei Kalinovich Mol____ lived a very misunderstood pre-adolescence until the age of six, when he fled his mindless whore of a surrogate mother and found a new calling as an impoverished wastrel in the ghettoed halls of Gdansk.

Hopelessly embittered by the shallow misery he called life, at ten he escaped the encroaching shadow of the Pan-European capitalist state and joined a violently anti-peace militia in the hills of Azerbaijan, taking the name Argad Kalinov. His relationship with the organization soured, however, when the rest of it was ruthlessly slaughtered in an assault upon the Caspian Sea.

Left alone at only 13, the courageous young man brilliantly acquired transportation to an entirely different part of Azerbaijan, where he caught the evening train to Georgia, eventually arriving in such diverse locales as Eastern Romania, Central Romania, and even Western Romania. There, two years later, his luck ran out, and he was jailed for conspiracy to defraud the public, under the name Erjen Kilas.

After three years of desperate experential nullity, our hero escaped and began a fearless beeline trek towards the Atlantic Ocean. Passing through Yugoslavia, Croatia, Hungary, Slovakia, the Czech Republic, Austria, Italy, Switzerland, and France, he at last emerged on the southern coast of Spain only to learn that, in fact, he had discovered only the Mediterranean Sea.

This cruel twist of fate paralysed him, and for countless years he labored as a dock worker in Valencia by the name of Roget Decaille, often staring longingly over the sea to New York, the promised land of heathenism. But it was not yet to be, until, at long last, it was.