The following is a work of fiction.

Not Nick Nolte's Diary, Malibu, California
April 8, 2005


Why is it so hard to find three-hole punched paper at a stationary store in this town? You'd think they'd set it up so all of the scribes and hope-to-be-scribes trip over it, Diary. No, instead you have to scower the towering racks hunting for a small label harder than a college radio station manager. You have to spend so long looking you lose your glasses in the place and by the time you leave you are startled that the sun has set. As a final insult you're walking outside the store and someone asks you--without realizing who you are--where a popular bar in Santa Monica is. You provide prompt directions and are surprised with the sense of satisfaction, like scotch in the belly of something. You briefly consider a service that would make people feel good by having people ask them directions, like an emotional massage. All of this and more could be prevented with a corner for the Shakespeares at Staples.

[signed] Nick

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