The following is a work of fiction.

Not Nick Nolte's Diary, Malibu, California
October 19, 2004


I don't usually like goodbyes, Diary, but Sam took the gravitas out of the air pretty quickly. He left all of his luggage for some service I've never heard of. He said he was going to "hitchhike down to the docks" when he shook my hand. I thought it was code. He gave me a book as a gift, but said he left it hidden in a bookcase somewhere in the house. "Sounds like fun," I lied. Manolo opened the door for him and Sam told him he had left him a gift too. It turned out to be a signed and framed copy of "This Is Just to Say" by William Carlos Williams. It's a good poem, Diary, look it up. Manolo got a little misty, lord knows why. A limo arrived and Sam waved his dirty cowboy hat from the sunroof. Part of me wished I could leave Mali-Cali myself, but I have promises to keep, as Robert Frost wisely wrote.

[signed] Nick

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