The following is a work of fiction.

Not Nick Nolte's Diary, Malibu, California
September 3, 2004

Blueberries

I'm not sure who put them there, but the fridge had two bushels. No doubt Manolo had plans for them, but I couldn't resist. I took a few from the fridge and then a few more. I tried to concentrate on the paper, but I decided to go back for one last trip. As I reached for the fridge door, my fingers slipped from the handle. I looked down and saw my fingers were stained and slicked with blue. Those blahs again. I don't know if that works on a metaphorical level or what. Well that was two hours ago, Diary and I haven't gotten a damn thing done since. I'm waiting for a call from Scotty G.