Weird, weird. Yesterday, after my run, I'd gotten back to the car long before the two Irish girls I'd been running with, so I sat down to wait for them. I was wearing a tshirt and a sweatshirt, but it was still fairly cold in the sea breeze, and I thought to myself that this would be exactly the kind of thing that would give you a cold. Minutes later, I began to sneeze, and the minutes extended into an hour, and now, twenty four hours later, I've gone through an entire box of kleenex, and my nose is red raw. At first, it felt like a severe attack of allergies, but now I think it really is a cold. How odd that it would hit so quickly, though, after my run, and so soon after my last cold.

I always like my friends and my car to be color-coordinated.

Yesterday afternoon, since John-Paul hadn't called, I went with Cecilia to the nearby LACMA (Los Angelese County Museum of Art). We actually walked there, which is something hardly anybody does in LA! But after a brief tour of an exhibit of Cuban photography, I began to feel so out-of-it that I couldn't enjoy anything.

The Japanese Pavillion (I think it's called) at the LACMA. Very Fred Flinstone.

We walked over to the supermarket, bought some flowers and wine for our host, and Kleenex cold-care tissues for me, and then headed home. I crashed for a couple of hours of Benadryl induced sleep, and got up, still feeling lousy, just in time to throw on some decent clothes, run a brush through my hair, and head off to the Dorothy Chandler Pavillion, with Cecilia.

I'd planned this trip months ago around the Los Angeles Philharmonic concert this weekend. I was originally to come here with my boyfriend, Jed. But since he's no longer my boyfriend, I had to cast around for another friend to come with me, which is why Cecilia ended up coming down with me. It was rather a back-handed invitation, I suppose, but she accepted with good grace since she loves to come down here anyway.

I was feeling woozy, and horrible as I got ready, and I couldn't find my car keys anywhere. So we had to borrow our host's beaten up old Toyota Tercel. We got some fairly amusing stares as we clanked up to the valet parking in image-conscious downtown LA. But I didn't care. As we entered the hall, I was carrying one plastic bag of clean tissues in one hand, and a second bag for dirty tissues in the other.

Despite everything, I enjoyed the music, particularly the piece I'd come down to see, Strauss' "An Alpine Symphony", a magnificent piece of orchestration, which portrays, in about fifty minutes, the ascent up a mountain from sunrise, to the peak, down again in a thunderstorm and sunset. The beginning is just magical. The orchestra hums a slowly shifting bass chord, and bit by bit, tiny little tendrils of light start to percolate up out of the deep, dark chords. The light starts to take hold, and suddenly the sun lifts itself up over the horizon, and the brass roars out the new day.

Afterwards, though, I was so looking forward to heading home for more Benadryl and sleep. I'd originally planned to go out on the town with John-Paul. But I didn't think the two plastic bags of tissues would quite fit into that scene. I was disappointed about it, because, for once, I was looking forward to the idea of clubbing. For one reason or another, I've been feeling - boyish, I guess is a good term - recently.

But instead of hitting the dance floor, I crashed into bed. Pout, sniffle (:

I did manage to hang out with John-Paul today, though, finally. We met up in West Hollywood for an extended coffee and natter, while admiring passing biceps. Going to Starbucks is a major concern here in West Hollywood. Everyone seems to wear just the right sleeveless tshirt, and affect the same elaborate lack of concern about their slightly tousled appearance. But I will admit that you see some awefully good-looking men here.

Despite the fact that almost nothing has gone right on this trip - from the weather, to my cold (or whatever it is), I've enjoyed the trip. It's been relaxing, and companionable. I've very much enjoyed my hosts, Larry and Maggie. This evening, Larry cooked dinner and Cecilia invited her sister, Roehmy over, while I went over to the local supermarket to buy a box full of little cakes and tarts for dessert. Larry's a warm, fuzzy jewish guy with a deep, calm voice. Maggie is very different - a fiery Irish girl with no clothes- sense, and wild hair. And Roehmy - she's quite a handful. Her cosmopolitan upbringing has left her with an exaggerated sense of her own importance. She's amusing, stylish, and cultured - but I can only take her in very limited doses. Oh, and there was another guy there, Tom. He works for Maggy and Larry (who run a small, private software company), and he's a typical software type - I don't think he said a single word during dinner. Apparently he's very gifted - he's an actor/computer-programmer, believe it or not. I can only presume that his personality comes out on stage. Anyway, Cecilia, Larry and I were the only normal people :) At least, I think everybody thought I was normal until Cecilia blurted out about my website. It then came out that Larry had worked in the porn industry. So I guess appearances are never what they seem.