"Undermining my electoral viability since 2001."

You Can Find Me In The Club

The new house is called The Cornell Club, which is a nod to the Girth's parents and their young days as Berkeley grad students. It's also a touch classier than "Man House." I like it. We'll have a warming party in about a month, which I'll send out invites to in a while. Hopefully some girls will show up.

I think there's a lot of potential here. I'll have a more or less set-up room in a bit, and it's going to be open to our friends and extended family any time I'm back in Humboldt or otherwise on the road. It's a little like my coworkers' love of CouchSurfing but more private.

We've got big maps, a garden started in the back yard and a huge amount of meat in the freezer. Nick and Luke kee[ a chess game in progress, and we sample Mao's little red book for inspiration from time to time. This week we discovered the threat to the revolution posed by "the petit-bourgeois and their individualistic aversion to discipline." That's a keeper.

Last night we had Interesting Times running a raucus poker game with four public defenders, another law school buddy, and myself. I managed to hold my own against men on leave from their wives -- determined to make the most of it, they were -- and managed to break even in spite of the massive quantities of high-quality scotch on the scene. This is better than I usually do at cards, and it was a nice unique way to spend an evening.

Things are shaping up. I remain, as ever, vaguely unsatisfied, ritually fatigues, and plagued with concerns that I am becoming -- to quote another tired old hack -- "all dead inside." Beautiful weather helps. I think getting back into a physical exercise routine will also. My foot is still a little messed up, but it's to the point where I just need to do my thing and be sore. I can feel my body jiggle when I go down stairs; my whole system is over-ripe, ready for some strong and steady running.

I've been sort of in a funk for a while, which is generally obvious when I have a hard time getting out of bed even with eight hours sleep. I'm not clear of this yet, but the clear night air is doing good things for my sense of the possible. Just got to keep pushing the good habits, and working on those philosophical breakthroughs. One of these days I'll fall back in love with my life, embrace the responsibility of being awesome, get on my flying shoes and hit the scene with gusto. Until then I'll settle for incremental progress and simple good times.