Vaat is de (dark) matter, baba joon?

My brother tells me it's eerie to sleep in a half-empty house. A half-empty dormroom is pretty eerie too, and I don't have the luxury of running to Mamman's in the middle of the night if my diaper needs changing.

Peter, my roommate, has left me. We hardly exchanged a word about the move, since I was hosting AG, but suffice it to say that my half-Persian from Harvard is moving in with smarter, whiter roommates who will inspire him in his quest for dark matter. I don't blame him.

He didn't say it, but I think he felt guilty abandoning me...he gave me his rice cooker, which I use to make tea since all the pots belonged to him.

Peter and I never spoke more than two words while he was living here...we had nothing to say! We only spoke in music, taking turns blasting classical music on the rare occasions when we were both at home. He made me appreciate Debussy, and I introduced him to Prokofiev's war sonatas.

In the final days, AG asked Peter about his work on dark matter, which I had never dared to do. He got an obnoxious/confusing answer: "When I'm gone from Stanford," said Peter, "I will have completely rewritten the computer program that represents our understanding of dark matter." He went to Harvard after all.

But I'll miss him, especially the smells. His facewash smelled so clean, and his concoctions of Persian cuisine - Fessenjoon, Gheimeh...all learned from his (American) mother - reminded me of home. Peter was a bright, sturdy mulatto, and I hope my half-white nephew turns out so well...although I kind of hope my nephew gets more ass.