The following is a work of fiction.

Not Nick Nolte's Diary, Malibu, California
July 29, 2005

Numbers

Where does the time go Diary? This is an impossible question in Vegas. There are no clocks to be found, and there is no real emphasis on either day or night. It’s not unlike the harvest season in Bali. No matter how many times I come here I can never get use to it. Hell, I accidentally ate breakfast at four yesterday. I had no idea. The melon was surprisingly sweet, but the coffee was bunk. To the point, I am here for the weekend for one reason: to study the poetry of the Baccarat dealers. There is a new film coming down the chute and it is set in Thailand with a director I have long wanted to work for. I figure this is my best chance. But to be on the level, I would really just love to spend three months in Thailand on someone else's dime. It has been way too long and her moon is a jealous one. Enjoy the day.