The following is a work of fiction.

Not Nick Nolte's Diary, Malibu, California
January 11, 2005

Strings

Monolo has been experimenting lately, and in a bad way. My smoothie this morning tasted like saddle soap. He assured me it was the extra Lycopene. I ran into town to meet with Bernie. He looked like he spent the night in the trunk of his car. He wasted no time complaining about his ex-wife. I tuned him out, but the kitchen overcooked his chicken and so he let the waiter have it. The poor kid was no match for the months of doormating Bernie had pent up. I hadn't seen anyone so furious since Jim Wild told me that he was too big for a puppet show. I think it's time for Bernie to trim the wick. Put a candle in the window for him, Diary. Until tomorrow...