The following is a work of fiction.

Not Nick Nolte's Diary, Malibu, California
March 21, 2005

Ferme

I'm still coming down from this morning's Kendo's lesson. I lost a pound in sweat alone. Leon wanted a free raquetball lesson but I was in a mood so lied that the court was being resurfaced. When he said he had just been in there and it wasn't, I pretended to get angry and said it was the supreme court I was talking about and that I had to write a letter to my senator. Actually I didn't say that, but I wish I had. I guess it was an esprit de l'escalier. The landscapers were out to inspect the earth around the gully. They called in the guy who handled the Getty estate drainage to look at it. If it weren't for the Poplars I'm certain things would be a lot muddier. People don't appreciate roots, do they? With all the rainy weather of late I look forward to summer, Diary.