We billed our housewarming party as an opportunity to join us in "staging the end of our youth." The crowd was smallish but high quality, and packed dense enough to make the occupied rooms seem full. Mix in a little SparksPlus, and it felt just about right.

Most importantly, a representative social network sample was achieved: academics from Berkeley, drupal developers from the Mission, lawyers from all over, Sixto, friends from Humboldt county and Oregon, and perhaps best of all Nick's cousin in a positively outlandish basketball outfit rolling in and supervising the cooking of much bacon. Serious meatboxing. The mix works, and there will be dinner parties to come in the same vein.

Later in the evening, when things got whittled down to the inner circle, the truly regressive behavior began to emerge. There was some unsupervised mixed-martial arts in the living room, and in the back yard the great ritual of "cutting beers in half with a machete." What started as a feat of immaturity is one cycle away from tradition.

I don't know what our neighbors thought about this, especially as it was 3am and things eventually moved on from cans to bottles, which is a lot less safe and a lot more messy; but we cleaned things up good in the morning, and it probably won't happen again soon. Hopefully there are no hard feelings.

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.