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.