Image

Lights flashing on skiffs in the bay, and the rain pelts the waves in sheets. 

Concrete tunnels, lights flashing at the top of radio towers to ward-away low flying aircraft. 

The world may end when the supercollider is used on wednesday. 

dorm, cabins, campus warrens

My wife is in an etiquette class--she learns in cabins how to properly sit, eat, jump, back flip, tour and exercise. I watch her troupe back flipping in a cabin. Later I see her with a tour group--Japanese taking pictures of the lake front, as I'm driving out of the campus, through the woods and beneath a grey overpass.

The open doorways of neighboring dorms. Televisions on--the hive, the collective. Our family eats out at a nearby country ballroom diner. Other families have paid for private, closed rooms, while our table is semi-private, and shared with one other family opened to the hallway. Its Christmas dinner.

Our new house has four sets of stairs--each of which diagonally crosses the other, and is too long...I guess this is the appeal, but my dad and I comment on the stupidity of the arrangement. The new house is an investment house, and will pay off later despite appearances.

My father is sick in the bath tub--naked and keeled over, I try to comfort him--the feeling of things approaching their end.