The following is a work of fiction.

Not Nick Nolte's Diary, Malibu, California
October 7, 2004

High

I spoke with Constance this morning. Maybe I've repaired things, maybe not. One thing is true: the human tongue doesn't scar. The mud room is stacked with shipments from the wineries already. It looks like that scene from Citizen Kane with all the crates. I ran into Sam at the barn of all places and he said he knew his wine. I said "I still have a learner's permit." Sam said, "to you it's a permit, to everyone else it's a permission slip." I don't know why, but that stung. Sam has his eye on a Chateau St. Jean Cabernet. I've been pouring over the booklets that come with the wine. Excuse the pun. I had what I thought was a clever sentence here about Sam and his vintage, but I deleted it.