The following is a work of fiction.

Not Nick Nolte's Diary, Malibu, California
January 9, 2005

Underwater

The rain didn't let up today, but the picture window in the gray room lit up somewhere in the third act of the script I'm reading. After many days of gray clouds, I saw a strip of sunlight opened up across the horizon and below the almost-inky clouds, like torn paper rising over the edge of the world. The rain has brought two lawn experts, the tree guy and a plumber in the last week. I expect it'll bring a few people more. The oak was swaying in the wind last night like an anenome beneath the sea. I guess water is my theme today. I blame this script. It's about a couple who tour the world on a--Manolo is calling. More later, Diary.