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.