Into Yellowstone - Tackling The Beast

Tuesday, June 3rd

Brennan and I have headed out West, In search of something intangible, something that I've heard is worth finding - our souls. We departed on a Wednesday, a dry, soulless, mid-week day that was worth leaving behind anyways. The wind took us to Chicago to see recently lost friends - though our souls certainly weren't there. All I could see were godless city-folk that would rip our hearts if we let our guard down for a second. We left that awful place in two days time in search of something more, something more rugged and primitive - maybe some scenic view that would inspire tranquility or some natural life that would cause us to question our own existence. We landed at Brennan's relative in Rochester, MN and went bowling. For a moment one night between Reno 911 and Team America I heard faint whisper coming from an ethereal part of me. Was it my soul? I wish I knew.

We left in good spirits with full stomachs and headed to the Badlands. I've learned that the clay-rich soils of this geological feature have been extensively eroded by wind and rain, exposing a stratification that represents millions of years of varying sedimentary deposition. Obviously black magic, a tool in Satan's repertoire that pulls us towards science and away from the natural mystery of God's wonderments. Thus we stayed only a short time to hike, hoping to tackle some of the rattlesnake population because I've heard that danger helps you find your soul. Obviously the rattlesnakes didn't come near us because Brennan hadn't shaved in a while.

Yesterday we headed to Mount Rushmore, a stone's throw away from Satan's pillars (the Badlands). I knew from the start that I wouldn't find my soul near giant head carvings of four dead presidents. It was interesting nonetheless, though all I could think about was how I badly I wanted to carve myself in the rock riding George Washington's big nose like a wild Steed.

Today we head into Yellowstone, and I fear for my life. I fear for Brennan's life most of all, because I know that he doesn't have the savagry to take a human life. Because I know out here it will be a struggle for survival - barely drinkable water, small, if any, pockets of huntable game, and constantly erupting volcanoes. Tonight’s it’s supposed to be cold, so we will be sleeping in a dead goat carcass like Luke in The Empire Strikes Back.

I’m really hoping to triangulate the inner sphere of my soul’s coordinates today– an essential pre-game to finding this elusive bastard. Obviously this will be hard with the aforementioned difficulties, but I journey forth nonetheless. I’ve posted a picture of me doing both mental and physical callisthenic training to prepare my mind and body for today’s difficult tasks.

To Satan's Gates and Back

Wednesday June 4th

We headed directly into the belly of the beast on Wednesday - Yellowstone. I’ve heard that this place will eat you alive and then spit you back out like a small frog that got caught in a blender and then set on fire. I figured this would be the best place to search for my soul since there exists an abundance of natural wonders, and that’s exactly what my soul is. Like attracts like, or so they say.



Here I am searching for my soul at one of Yellowstone’s serine lakes. It seemed peaceful and inviting, exactly the place my soul would want to be. I later learned that the lake was created by a volcanic explosion and was acidic enough to dissolve solid metal.

The abundance of people around Yellowstone’s hotspots drew us to a hike in the backcountry. Souls always like it where it’s quiet. It was hard to focus on my search there, however, since all I could think about was the possibility of a bear springing from a bush like an angry gypsy and clawing out my heart. To counter, I hid in a bush of my own and waited for a bear cub to come along. My plan was to snatch it and pretend to eat it, only to show the mother that I was just being playful.





Thursday, June 5th

On several occasions today my life almost ended, which is almost as bad as the fact that I haven’t pooped in six days. The dangers in Yellowstone are numerous, and my viciousness has grown accordingly to keep me alive.


Here I am stalking an elk (off camera) on top of an informational sign. I was warning the creature of my territorial bounds, and removed my clothing as a signal of intent. The land was dangerous, but so was I.

The elk is but one of the many beasts to fear in Yellowstone. Apparently the bison are capable of ravaging you so devastatingly that you will be thrown a great distance while your articles of clothing fly off. Clearly we wanted nothing to do with these demons, since I would never find my soul dead.



So we decided to get as close to one as possible, since I’m a scientist as well as soul-searcher. Besides, my territorial encounter with the elk left me emboldened like cheetah on steroids.



By the early evening we had destroyed the bison and I continued my search; Though I was more savage than the days before, it was no less important to me. I’ve read that ancient Indian tribes believed one’s soul could manifest itself in any number of natural objects like trees, rocks, and streams. When you finally find it, you commune with nature so intimately and powerfully that the heavens shake. Usually I laugh when I think of this because I think of how baked out of their minds with tribal mushrooms these Indians must have been to believe such a thing.



Later I found some rocks on which to sit pensively and ponder the metaphysical coordinates of my soul. I think there was something scenic in the background, but I wasn’t paying attention.



The ancient Greek’s believed that the soul can be found in one’s dream. Brennan and I had just watched Oprah undo Manamar’s typhoon damage while simultaneously giving each victim a car and fruit basket, so I was spiritual drained and needed a nap anyways. There is a reasonable chance that she holds my soul. I need to talk with her when I return home.



During my search I found an extraordinary natural phenomenon. Clearly it was a preservation of variable sedimentary deposition, but as to what minerals created such uniformity and vibrant colors is beyond me - probably beyond all of science.



I think that I’m going to start ending each long, contemplative day in some form of nudity. It’s incredible how close you can feel to the earth without any pants – the warm stench of nearby bison dung tickles the senses as the cool mountain breeze hardens the nipples. An internal joy emerges that is conducive to finding one’s soul. And I still have much finding to do.



Friday, June 6th

Today was a day of hydrothermal features - “Hydro”, the Greek word for water and “Thermal,” that for heat. The word is actually quite vague. When one passes gas in a pool or bathtub the requirements for a hydrothermal feature are met. Last night while Brennan was sleeping I passed gas in his tent. This was not a hydrothermal feature. Some believe that Yellowstone’s hydrothermal features are a result of shallow volcanic activity heating fallen rain in a network of cracks in the rockbed. I believe that these people are stupid. The theories of Intelligent Design tell us that complexity is unnatural – it needs a designer. Me.



Here I am forcing water out of a geyeser, what the locals call “Old Faithful.” I've forgotten of my powers, though they could serve useful during my search. Conjuring hydrothermal features is a pacifying thing, and this is good for soul searching since recent days have left me somewhat savage. Hopefully the number of small creature's lives I need to end to feel sastified will go down.



I whispered to the mountain and convinced it to spew forth its contents. The woman in the photograph was hospitalized because she unknowingly walked into my transcendental sphere – an often fatal mistake. The level of metaphysical pondering in the sphere is far too great for non-designers to pass through safely. We can only hoped she died.



Heat loving microbes called thermophiles provide the brilliant blue and green colors of these pools. Some are photosynthetic. Others feed off hydrogen sulfide that bubbles up from deep beneath. They are fun little bastards that I created while high. They have nothing to do with my search, but seem to be impressive to non-intelligent designers (everyone else).



Today we found an ethereal cloud. I’ve mentioned before that souls like quietness. They also like ethereal clouds. Since this was clearly worth searching, I decided it was best to so nude, in accordance with my previous findings concerning nudity. The clothing in the picture has been added with Photoshop, only to protect children that may read this intimate diary.

Yosemite - Desinty Awaits

Saturday June, 7th

We finally left Yellowstone, though Brennan has lost several of his appendages. This is unfortunate for two reasons: One, they would have been useful for his life, and two – more importantly – his cooking has been nourishing me through my search. I will now live off pieces of cardboard box that’s been storing our food and small bits of grass.

We made it to Grand Teton before nightfall, only to be snowed on like of pack wild Alaskan Eskimos. Though the Teton landscapes are pretty, they are hardly enough to inspire my soul out from hiding, especially when it’s cold enough to make one’s nipples hard like diamonds. That’s how Brennan’s felt to my touch. The good news is that I made it out of Yellowstone with a vital clue to the nature of my soul. It likes pasta and beans. This is logical, since these are two delicious dishes, though unfortunate since my diet no longer includes these items.

After narrowly escaping from Teton’s winter, we continued onward towards distance in-laws in Salt Lake City. We were pretty much scared out of our minds the entire time because it’s a land of fearsome creatures that make marauding bison look like Telletubies: Mormons. Underage brides, too many brides, poor brides, about-to-have-16-children-to repopulate-the-earth brides, and golden tablets only readable by secret glasses. Obviously this is not a place you venture into without a concealed, yet relatively large weapon. Our gracious hosts took us in and offered many drinks during our stay, probably because drunkenness dulls instinctual fear. If anyone thinks I searched for my soul in this place they are probably high on methamphetamines

Sunday June 8th

Out from Mormon land we emerged today, though landing in an equally strange one. It felt hot and barren, an unfamiliar sense to us thus far. It was the Bonneville Salt Falts – a salt graveyard of an ancient lake during the last ice age.

The flats were hot, so we urinated on our shirts and wrapped our heads to keep cool. We learned it from Bear Grylls during the desert episode of Man vs. Wild. Brennan’s appendages have been added with photoshop for completeness of picture. There was a moment when my soul – that tricky son of a bitch – momentarily appeared out of hiding. Brennan saw it first, though I couldn’t tell where he was trying to direct my view since he had no arms. Sorry soul, little buddy.

Monday, June 9, 2008

We left Salt Lake City and headed towards Yosemite last night, Yellowstone’s precarious little brother - though not before stopping at Lake Tahoe for the night to sleep since small bits of grass leave me tired and lacking basic nutrients. I’ve already eaten the entire cardboard box. The yearning for my soul burns the inside of me like a thousand fire ants nipping at my testicles.

In the early afternoon we followed a dirt road that winded away from the main road towards a hotspring, a joy I hear everyone is supposed to enjoy. I’ve seen the movie Dante's Peak where the two naïve swimmers get burned alive in this kind of death trap, so I obviously proceeded forth without hesitation. Danger breeds manhood, and manhood breeds souls. I don’t know if we were ever in any danger though since most of the heat was likely from kiddie pee. And some of my own.

Right now Brennan is trying to drive – we placed a large rock on the gas pedal and he’s using his head to steer, so I don’t think he can see much. He’s so precocious. When I drive I spend most of my visual time at the GPS or built-in MPG calculator, so I don’t see much more then he does anyways. It’s frustrating that he’s still able to drive with such a flare as to arouse both animate and inanimate objects, while I am not.



Tuesday, June 10th.

We arrived in Yosemite midday yesterday, and it was pure carnage - Redwood trees, giant rocks, and gentle meadows like the kind from Anne of Green Gables. Apparently Yosemite’s landscapes are the leftover carvings of huge glacial movements that flung the landscape around like New Orleans’ underprivileged residents during Hurricane Katrina. There is one famous cliff – Krystal peak - that rose high enough to escape the destructive glacial forces. It sat patiently by while its brother and sister peaks were slowly ravaged, which in a silly world one might symbolically relate to FEMA - though such a person would not be me because hey, symbolism is silly, isn’t it?

Brennan and I wandered off the main road to hike through Yosemite’s forest and a find better view of the new world we had entered. Don’t let our gentle and happy disposition fool you though. Our camera is set on the bodies of four dead tourists. If you’re wondering how we managed to take the picture you’ll need a grasp on quantum mechanics and an ability to think in at least four dimensions.

No soul findings on Monday.

Apparently the waterfalls here are as numerous as the number of foreign children Angelina Jolie has adopted. They run rampant through this place like HIV in South Africa or number of appendages I have compared to Brennan. I’d like to say that Souls like waterfalls, but I really don’t know this time. Of course this didn’t stop me from searching because I do know souls sometimes like to play tricks and hide near twin trees on the outskirts of waterfalls. Everyone knows that though because it’s obvious.

Afterwards I made a bagged delight of mixed pasta and canned beans and scattered it around the area to entice my soul from hiding, but to no avail. My soul is a temptress, continually teasing the senses and tickling the mind while it’s being sought.

We hiked to a second waterfall shortly thereafter. I would have thought that hiking up treacherous, Aztec-like steps through physically difficult conditions would ward off small children, the elderly, and the obese. Apparently they are capable of the same sorts of things as Brennan and I, which is why we passed them during our climb. We’re soul searching, bitches.

I’ve already found some insights on the communal relationship between nudity and nature, so I decided to commune a little in front of the waterfall. Brennan interrupted my time and perversely starting taking pictures of this very personal event. If he wasn’t so entertaining trying to push the camera button without any fingers I would have been a lot more upset.

If Brennan had legs and needed to use me as a stepping stone over dangerous ledges, this is what it might look like. It’s only hypothetical though and has been generated using supercomputers.

We took a rafting trip down the valley river, though the waters were tranquil and weak. Since we were never close to death it’s barely worth commenting on. Tonight we leave for San Francisco – I’ve heard rumors that if you stay longer than three or four days you turn homosexual. I’ve always believed these kinds of rumors to be based on sound logic and science, so I will accept them as true. Since Brennan and I have nothing against these friendly people or their sexual preference though, we go forth willingly.

San Francisco – A Triangulation of Metaphysics

Wednesday, June 11^th

Today we arrived at Berkeley and homeless people abound. I come here to see my dearest sister during her pursuit of higher education. I suspect she does this only as an insult because she knows of my strongly religious nature and belief that science is the alter at which Satan lovers worship. Mystery is wonder, and understanding only leads to unhappiness. Though I love her, we can only hope she suffers in purgatory.

I hear this is a place of intellectual prowess, but all I see are shopping carts full of canned goods and blankets. Many of the cans are empty, but I don’t say anything to the owners because I don’t think they understand the difference. They ask me if I’ve ever lived inside a tree and if I know where their brother is. I tell them yes, but that their brother is dead. Sorry you had to find out this way.

We are staying in an abandoned apartment by the graciousness of my sister and the unknowingly owners. There exists a ferocious creature in this home that likely has the power to kill me and then run my dead body over with a car again and again if I should misstep. If my soul exists here, it will surely be destroyed by this creature. I again fear for Brennan’s life because he no longer has the ability (no appendages) to defend himself against an attack.

Thursday, June 12^th

I’ve tamed the beast by sleeping with it.

Friday June 13^th

Brennan and I ventured into the loins of homoeroticism by traveling into San Francisco. I assumed we would be given gay pornography in exchange for our entrance fee over the Bay Bridge, but we were not. We asked the Admissions technician for some, but he declined, instead giving us a funny half smile as he looked directly at Brennan’s crotch. He also asked us what we were doing later that night. Strange question.

As I wondered through the city the only thing I could think of was terrorism. We passed by culturally unique restaurants, clever antique shops, and sophisticated shopping centers, but all I saw were targets for terrorist weapons of mass destruction. I’d like to focus more on fighting terrorism during our stay, since it’s obvious the tranquility of national forests can’t provoke my soul out of hiding. I need more enemies to create danger. I think focusing on diabetes, aids, cancer, malaria, tuberculosis, heart failure, international genocide, or world-wide hunger would be a waste though because these things still haven’t told us of their intent to harm us. Not like terrorists have at least. John McCain says terrorism is a transcendental struggle, and finding my soul is all about transcending.

Today we also met the couple whose apartment we’ve been sleeping in. They are a kind folk, though I am suspicious of their friendliness - there’s a reasonable chance they are terrorists. They seem warm and genuinely welcoming, probably because they are Al Queada recruiters

Saturday June 14^th

Today we scoured the city once more, though this time with the help of my gracious sister and her friend, a lesbian. I assumed she had a motorcycle and would strangle us with her fish stockings if we made her angry, but she possessed neither. In fact, she turned out to be a fun and beautiful Asian woman, the kind I thought only existed in Kalvin Klein adds to tease lesser men. Men like Brennan and I.

San Francisco is divided into distinct districts, each with a clever theme based mostly on race and ethnicity to attract tourists. We ate burritos in the Mexican Mission district, watched the Italians of North Beach, and finally saw gay pornography spilling into the streets in the Castro district. There are many others. I am very concerned with the bright colored flags that adorn Castro’s public squares. I believe they are markings to guide terrorist missiles to their appropriate targets – why else would they be so brightly colored as to resemble a rainbow? I tore down any flag I could find to save the city’s patriots because I’m determined to fight these godless terrorists. On a separate note, I was really hoping I would find my soul in the Mission district and that it would be Mexican (same as Latino). Then we would have had one thing in common: Burritos. I love them, my soul would love them, and we could laugh and dance in our sombreros to the rising sun.

The effects of Castro’s flamboyancy had a particularly strong effect on Brennan. Obviously I tried on my own set of adornments only to make him feel more comfortable in his own….

Here I am with two beautiful women. This is nothing new to me of course, since I’m a sexual beast capable of attracting everything that walks. I later found out that the girl on the left is my sister and the other a lesbian.

Sunday June 15th

We decided to accept an invitation to a free concert today and stay in San Francisco one more day. I still need one more day to protect these people from terrorism and one more day to discover if my soul is Mexican anyways. Please let him be Mexican, God. You know I don’t ask you for much and try to stay out of your way, only communicating when I want something. I’ve learned through Joel Osteen televised sermons that our relationship is supposed to like this. No man can squint his eyes for that long if he’s not telling the truth.

Anyways, it was a quaint concert, filled with friendly people and snuggled into a natural grove at the heart of the city. Wine and food flowed through that place like the Last Supper. If Jesus had snuck away to the woods and smoked pot this metaphor would be quite accurate.

I’ve discovered something very excited about my soul: It likes people. This also gives evidentiary support for my soul being a Mexican, since they are very friendly people. This also means that my soul is probably not a terrorist, since terrorist generally want to kill everyone. And everything that moves including small animals and trees that blow in the wind.

Tomorrow we head towards Southern California. I’ve heard that it’s an incredibly trendy place, so much so that striped, collard shirts are part of the dress code. Hopefully there’s terrorism to be fought and soul finding to be done there.

Southern California - Heaven's Whisper

Monday June 16^th

To get to southern California from San Francisco we drove down the famous California 1, a coastal road that treats its visitors to a scenic interplay of land and water. There’s a lot of joy to be had on this road, which is why terrorist likely wish to destroy it and why I needed to defend it. It’s why we took the road to begin with. Unfortunately there was never any danger to help find my soul. Though to be honest I’m beginning to think that finding my soul may have more to do with finding people than with danger and terrorism. Whatever, if my soul’s a panzy I’ll deal with it, as long as it’s Mexican.

I’ve forgotten to mention that we’ve have been hauling an antique chair on top of the car through our journey. It’s the kind of chair that only Grandparents own - the kind that smells of cat piss and has aesthetic patterns that induce seizures. It’s wonderful. We’ve been waiting for the perfect pace to get a few pictures with it and the 1 provided the perfect opportunity.

Tuesday June 17^th

We made it to Santa Monica last night and stayed with our friend Collin, a Midwestern stud from back home. He’s quite friendly, thought almost certainly a terrorist. He just got a job in construction management, which means he’ll know the best way to do the most structural damage to whatever building he chooses. Nice try Collin, but I’ve discovered you, you sneaky bastard. You are lucky, though. If I hadn’t recently discovered the ineffectiveness of terrorist dangers on my search I’d ship your traitor ass to our Vice President for a proper face shooting.

Today we ended our California driving in San Diego to see Brennan’s friend, though not before eating dinner with my cousin Jay, courtesy his girlfriend’s mother. Jay is without a doubt a terrorist, though there’s a certain charm to his ways so it’s cute. I get what his girlfriend sees in him.

By the time we met with Brennan’s friend, I got to thinking about terrorism. I realized that worrying about terrorism would probably kill me far before terrorism itself ever would. Since I’ve taken on the fight my blood pressure has skyrocketed and I’ve already given myself several hernias. I’ve also killed four small children and a few animals that I suspected of terrorist activities. To my surprise, I learned that the small children were not terrorists. I do still suspect the animals though.

I found a tree today and climbed it. I figured if my soul was Mexican it might be there since they are good at climbing boarder fences. He might have been confused and thought this tree would get him into the United States.

Wednesday June 18^th

We spent the day at the beach pretending to play Frisbee and football, though obviously only as a ploy to attract girls. This usually works when one knows how to do these things. We do not. Brennan can’t catch or throw without arms anyways - the Frisbee usually just hits him in the head or chest without interference. It’s likely some of the girls knew of our tactics. On different note I did find some beautiful strings of washed up seaweed that I was able to wrap around my waste decoratively.

The beaches of San Diego are beautiful. They are large with comfortable waters and nice waves, filled with locals that don’t trivialize the area with tourist maps and fanny packs. If I ever found my soul in a fanny pack I think I would set myself on fire like a protesting monk.

As a pre-game for setting myself on fire we had a BBQ and roasted marshmallows tonight. Practice makes perfect.

Thursday June 19^th

Brennan’s friend went to work today while Brennan and I went to the beach once more. We spent a fair amount of time trying to get into the ocean as its undertow spit us out miles away. We hit on older women in their 50’s and 60’s since we had such little success with our own age bracket yesterday. Brennan is particular skilled with this demographic, though I struggle. Something about being completely covered in seaweed bits seems to scare them off, along with children and small pets that look at me like I’m the antichrist. Oh well.

I’m done with terrorism and I’ve lost almost all hope for my soul being Mexican. Though I still know my soul is drawn to people, I’m struggling for answers now more than any point during my journey. I yearn and pine desperately for the cool whisper of my soul. I’m worried that I haven’t spent enough time communing with nature in the nude, something I discovered was important during Yellowstone. Tonight I will spend some time in the grocery store naked in an attempt strategically combine this communal tactic with my Soul’s love of people. I’m hoping an answer will emerge like the fruiting boding of a fungus.

Journey Home - The Solace of Fate

Friday June 20^th

Last night I was arrested by an obviously soulless police force that has never done any searching of its own. We can only hope their souls are joined with the same sorts of drug dealers and violent perpetrators they fight against. Not that they would care what their souls are doing anyways.

We left San Diego after I was released on bail and headed towards a much less primitive place - Las Vegas. We stopped in Death Valley on the way merely out of convenience and stopped for photos during a pee stop. Here’s Brennan ripping out a stop sign with his own human strength. Shortly afterwards he ate the entire thing. If you’re wondering how this is possible it’s because I gave him back his appendages. I’ve been hiding them in the glove compartment. He needed to build some character so I figured an appendage-less struggle would do just right.

Whenever I see road signs I laugh, especially now that I’ve been to Jail. Do they really think they can stop me? Shortly thereafter I respected the sign and went a different way.

Since it was too expensive to stay in Vegas for the night, we snuck into the pool at the Paris Casino and went for a swim. I peed everywhere in that pool just to show them how upset we were at their prices. Here is Brennan and I premeditating the act immediately before.

Saturday June 21^st

Sometimes I wonder about the state of humanity. Can it ever really work? Can we ever really survive in the midst of such transcendental struggles as class warfare, differences in religion, and racial intolerance? And what about North Korea, sitting with its finger on the button to launch Nuclear weapons and end everything we know? Is global warming going to ravage our planet while we consume our resources in the name of materialism? Will international genocide rein free in socio-political apathy? Does it matter? Is there any meaning in life anyways? As Brennan pondered these questions for me I played blackjack and won copious amounts of money

We found a cheap hotel in the small casino town of Mesquite a few miles down the road from Vegas last night. I finally realized that if you gamble, you always win. I especially like the feel a dollar bill’s cotton-paper texture on my naked body, which is why I showered with the sixty dollars I won that night.

Today we will drive towards Denver on the last leg of our metaphysical journey, even though my soul is still lost. Maybe it will be in Denver, but who the hell knows. Do they even have souls there?

Sunday June 22^nd

Brennan finally died today. It’s actually a very funny story. So we decided that since we were already carrying a chair around with us, we mise well do the same with the black bear we found in Yellowstone. We rigged up a cardboard box and fastened it securely with duck tape so the bear couldn’t escape (obviously). Well, I don’t know if this tape was old or just improperly produced under inappropriate temperature conditions, but that silly bear got loose during the night and just ripped every single one of Brennan’s vital organs from his body. I think it’s the way he would have wanted to go. I later discovered that Brennan had bitten the bear’s ear off in defense, so he went down swinging at the very least. I posted a picture of him towards the end of this entry in tribute of his gracefulness.

So having Brennan gone solidifies something I earlier discovered of my soul. I now think I’m very close to the whereabouts of this tricky prick, though I won’t divulge in this entry. I need a couple of more days in solitude and solace to make certain of what I now believe to be true.

Anyways, I went to a comedy club last night and saw an incredible comedian: Jo Koy. There was moment when I turned towards Brennan to ask if he liked one of the jokes, but then I remembered he had been destroyed earlier.

To Brennan: may the bear that killed you die a slow, painful death of hunger and anguish, or may he be poached by a band of red neck hunters.