Friday, Oct. 4, 1996
I went to see my mother for breakfast, which was actually fine. She was wearing leather. Well, black leather pants and an Isn’t It Romantic (an earlier play of mine) T-shirt. She offered me her wedding china for my new apartment and eight silver ice-cream cups for dress-up.
Had coffee with a very nice man who wants to do my children’s book for Disney’s Sunday night TV show. I remember watching it with my brother–Fantasyland and fireworks. Anyway, it sounds interesting, except I have to write it.
After the french-fries debacle, had sushi lunch with my agent. She told me that the bad English notices for my play there included references to the bad notices for my previous play there. I told her I wasn’t really interested in reading them, but I’m disappointed, because I’d always secretly planned to live in London half the year.
Came to Boston because I’m speaking on a panel for the International Women’s Forum. Taking my niece, who is a freshman at Harvard, out to dinner. Pamela is studying moral reasoning and travel writing–both sound so pleasurable. I think I should be in her classes instead of speaking on panels.
Met my college roommate Mary Jane and her fiancé for a drink. I first met Mary Jane when she was Pamela’s age. I wonder if Pam can even imagine us as people who shared a dorm room and lighted candles to listen to Laura Nyro.
Am very happy about Mary Jane’s marriage. Personally, I feel halfway between Travels with My Aunt and a girl who first saw Harold Pinter’s The Homecoming in the Loeb Drama Center Basement. I was very impressed. But I didn’t know then that Harold Pinter only wears black.
I think my mind is receding. I wonder how long I can coast.