The following is a work of fiction.

Not Nick Nolte's Diary, Malibu, California
July 19, 2005

Junk

Someone called it the canvas stage. I call it the hot seat. Whatever you may deign to call it, Diary, there is nothing like the media junket to focus the mind. There may be a few barnacles on the bow, but I know how to dodge the right questions and just how far to juke. Whenever I get a question and I start tapdance or drift, I interrupt myself by wondering where my pen went. Always check the table first, then the pockets. It serves as a good distraction. When I do locate my pen I then ask for the next topic or dive into my perfunctory antecdote about the time Scotty and I got lost in British Columbia. We ended up finding a pretty decent diner along the way so it wasn't that bad a detour. That's where I also got the pen. What burns me most though is when reporters call me Nicky. That's just bad form. Good day, Diary.