So, how to celebrate fall? Launch a squirrel? And a bunch of nuts, separately?

“Visitors are requested not to break down doors in search of liquor, even when authorized to do so by the host and hostess … Weekend guests are respectfully notified that the invitation to stay over Monday issued by the host-hostess during the small hours of Sunday morning must not be taken seriously.”

Note it says the small hours of Sunday–quite the party people! Found in an article on The Seven Vices of Highly Creative People on Salon.

Image: jonbarad

Perhaps I will pursue my master PADI diver certification and get underwater again. I miss the way it feels to be surrounded by water. This music is what scuba diving feels like to your body.

WHALE SHARKS. They’re so awesome, and the holy grail of diving experiences.

The kicker was that it was warm. Other entries ranged from a tempe salad in the shape of a pentagram with blinking red bike lights underneath to a breakfast salad which–hold onto your panties–consisted of waffles cut along the squares, breakfast link pieces, and egg pieces (frittata like) mixed with maple syrup and butter. I ate like three pounds of that. At least three dissenters went the metal/punk route:

No word yet on whether we won the category “most metal.”

From there, we rode just over 6 miles up to St Johns to her friend Brent’s house, where a backyard sing-a-long was happening around the firepit. This was extra good because he’s in the band Menomena and other musical people were there, so they could do all the songs on two guitars, a drum set, and keyboards all set up around the fire. Audrey performed Warren G’s regulators, we sang Talking Heads and Phil Collins, and Portland love filled the air. Summers here cannot be topped.

Justin recently turned 30, ditched Portland, and moved to LA to become an actor. Isn’t that rad? Some people hit 30 and mope. He headed to the land of the stars, and blogs about trying to make it at Parade of Delusion. Good luck, dude! Way to chase the dream!

So, the secrets to a dance party (is this MIA at the Gorge?): hold out for 1:15, and get a critical mass of 6 people.

My favorite point: At minute 2:20 when people are streaming by, check out the guy in the red American Appy undies and an umbrella hat.

Via bigboxcar, who admits to being one of the nerds (revolutionaries?) in the beginning. Well done!

Read it aloud.

Delphiniums in a Window Box

Every sunrise, even strangers’ eyes.
Not necessarily swans, even crows,
even the evening fusillade of bats.
That place where the creek goes underground,
how many weeks before I see you again?
Stacks of books, every page, characters’
rages and poets’ strange contraptions
of syntax and song, every song
even when there isn’t one.
Every thistle, splinter, butterfly
over the drainage ditches. Every stray.
Did you see the meteor shower?
Did it feel like something swallowed?
Every question, conversation
even with almost nothing, cricket, cloud,
because of you I’m talking to crickets, clouds,
confiding in a cat. Everyone says,
Come to your senses, and I do, of you.
Every touch electric, every taste you,
every smell, even burning sugar, every
cry and laugh. Toothpicked samples
at the farmers’ market, every melon,
plum, I come undone, undone.

*sigh* Oh how I want to go to Iowa for a MFA in poetry. The month I spent there studying with James Galvin was catatonically beautiful.

Favorite moment: Just before 1 minute in, the lady in purple being a tiger. Is everyone this attractive at British weddings? Sign me up.

Via A Cup of Jo, who is wisely cornering the wedding/relationship market writing about 30 somethings.

Remember Anna the Red, maker of those crazy complex bento lunch boxes that made the blog rounds? This is her recipe for Totoro cream puffs. If you aren’t up on your pop culture (remember the Ambassadors of Cute?), Totoro is like the Mickey Mouse of Japan. I have a large stuffed Totoro at my house that people invariably end up hugging while watching movies.

Quick, someone host a potluck.