The following is a work of fiction.

Not Nick Nolte's Diary, Malibu, California
September 27, 2006


Manolo has resigned me to kitchen duty for the next couple minutes. He stepped out because he forgot the alfalfa (again). Of course he didn't admit to this. Over the years I have come to know Manolo's playbook and when he leaves something off the grocery list he simply says that he needs to go "sew the net." Sure I could press him, but I have to save my arrows for the war that's brewing. I am expanding the quiet room on the north wing which according to my blueprints will cut into Manolo's hot house. Not a happy man he'll be. Back to point, Manolo told me when the peppers start to stain the pan its time to add the spice. It's strange how cooking is so closely related to life. On my jog yesterday I felt roughly the same way, the hills in Topanga are legendary; seemingly small they cast a long and stubborn shadow. I need to tend to the range. Sprinkle liberally Diary.

[signed] Nick

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