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My head hurts. I realized today that I am allergic to soy milk in addition to cow's milk. I've known for twelve years, half my life, that I'm allergic to cow's milk, but it takes me that long to try soy milk as a substitute for things I used to use cow's milk for, such as cereal. I always have had an unusually large capacity for procrastination. Maybe in another twelve years I'll try rice milk. Damn, my head hurts.

In Portland, I used to be able to find joy in simple things like smells. In winter, after a rain shower, the air would be clean, but damp, with hints of train yard rust. In summer, at night, the streets would still be warm, and the neighborhoods would smell of the intermingling of tree pollens, a musty, provocative fragrance, like good sex.

Spring and fall are periods of transition, and right now, everything is falling. Why am I here? I hate Los Angeles, I really do. This attitude will not make my experience here any better, but I know that this will always be my true feeling about this place. I've got one good friend here, who I've known for six years, but haven't talked to for most of the last three. I thought all you need in life is one good friend, but I've come to realize that simple joys are necessary too.

My simple joys right now are an Italian restaurant with checkered tablecloths and a waitress with dark hair and full lips that never smile, and pretending to shop for records at Amoeba, but really just watching the people move about the store. I need more than this. I need something to justify having five senses. My head hurts.