The following is a work of fiction.

Not Nick Nolte's Diary, Malibu, California
August 14, 2005

Blue

There is no section in the greeting card rack for how I'm feeling today. I wasted away most of the morning in the raquetball court with my dijaradu. The reverb off the walls was hypnotic and soothing. Not unlike an evening with Terry Stamp and his private collection of free verse poetry. Although while I am here, I think he cribs Byron a bit much. He also uses too much medieval imagery for my tastes. And he also forces his rhymes...now I am just being petty, I think my darkroom incident has got me down, but for the record I am on the mend. Manolo did some research on eye injuries and has turned the knobs accordingly. He has got me on a strict Vitamin A and kale regiment that only a fool would break from. Be good.