I’m Andrei Jebeleanu — fictional character, journalist, academic, and currently the prime suspect in my own biography.

A fictional character, a world of absurdities, and a fragile grip on sanity—this blog is, at its core, an experiment in identity.

What you’ll find here are fragments from a life lived entirely off-script—a life unfolding within The Patron Saint of Satire and Shenanigans, a novel about political theater, spiritual vertigo, and the private jokes history cracks behind our backs.

I don’t live between fact and fiction—I trespass. Uninvited. Undocumented. Sometimes armed with a bullhorn.

Though I may be a figment of your imagination, I’m powered by historical truths — the kind that rarely make it into textbooks but always sneak into footnotes. Or court transcripts.

I exist at the intersection of conspiracy and memory, parody and prophecy, trauma and timing. If you’re reading this, it means I’m either still alive — or someone is still using my voice.

Poorly.

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What is this, really?

This blog is part of a transmedia storytelling project—
a hybrid of fiction, philosophy, and file leak.
It lives between formats: book and blog, signal and scroll, confession and performance.

It blurs the line between character and author,
between narrative and evidence,
between sincerity and satire.

Some entries are personal. Some political. Some both.
What ties them together is a single hunch:

that reality has become so absurd, only fiction can be trusted.

So welcome.
To the footnotes.
To the static between channels.
To the shenanigans behind the shrine.

— A.J.