The following is a work of fiction.

Not Nick Nolte's Diary, Malibu, California
July 14, 2005


In preparation for my trip, I spent the day packing in the study. It's a difficult job, not unlike time travel, which I suppose is not yet a job. Give them time, Diary but no pun was intendid. Anyway, deciding how many outfits to pack is a calculus I have yet to master. You can bet if I do not pack a slicker, I will be buying one to shelter me from the rain. I always seem to have an extra undershirt when all is said and done. It's funny how quickly things get dusty in here. I've had Manolo skip the study since Sammy Shepard "lost" his vintage girly magazines in my archives. Embarassment is a dish best enjoyed alone, I think. I walked the grounds this morning just after dawn. It was a great way to cap a fitfull night of sleep. I happened upon the bee hives. They stood weathered in the needlegrass like two sugarcubes. I knew they were empty but I didn't approach them. They're somehow a fortress of the mind.

[signed] Nick

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