Thursday, Oct. 3, 1996
Canceled breakfast with my mother. Promised I would see her tomorrow. We have a habit of having breakfasts together so I can leave for a meeting before the questions become too personal.
Odd keeping a diary. It’s like knowing exactly how time is mismanaged. I am simultaneously keeping a food diary in my 500th attempt to manage weight. It seems to me I now have two documents to prove that others are far more disciplined and innately good. I am debating whether to list the french fries on the food-management document or the time I spent on a sofa with my cat thinking about absolutely nothing here.
Anyway, in an attempt to know where the time goes, here’s an exact schedule of yesterday’s events:
8:30–Canceled breakfast with mother.
9:00-9:45–wrote “Diary” entry for SLATE.
9:45-10:00–returned calls. Spoke to Nick Hytner about our film.
10:30-11:15–Had egg-white omelet at Orloff’s Delicatessen and cut piece for the Times style section.
11:15-12:00–Returned calls. Approved piece for Elle Decor about Robert Isabell’s apartment. Told my friend Henry I couldn’t meet him at the museum.
12:00-2:00–First meeting as chair of Program Committee at WNET–our public television station. Sat next to Walter Cronkite. Don’t quite understand how I became the chairperson since I still feel that in any meeting I should be passing notes to my friends about the teacher’s hair. But I genuinely care about public television. Of course, it amazes me that anyone could say they genuinely don’t care.
2:00-3:00–Returned more calls. Agreed to do a piece about Kmart opening in New York. Of course, I had just promised myself that I would work only on my play.
3:00-5:00–Returned to my apartment/hotel room with the intention of making a cup of tea and working. Called my sister, and we chatted about her mother-of-the-bride dress. Thought a long time about calling an old boyfriend. Thought it would certainly give the day some texture. Lift it out of the doldrums of work or not work. Called an old friend instead. Decided to take a nap, except I was too nervous. Decided to walk downtown, around two miles, to have dinner with The Red Meat Club.
5:20-6:00–Walked down Madison Avenue in the rain. Very calming despite the traffic lights.
6:00-7:30–Dinner with the Red Meat Club, my friends Heidi and Carole, who meet around every two months for steaks. We generally land up at joints like Morton’s, where out-of-town male traders sit in suspenders. Carole is a director and Heidi, a set designer–both are producers. Generally, we are the only theatrical folks at steak joints. We talked about my casting, Heidi’s show in London, and Carole’s new theater. Had too many french fries. Won’t list them in the food diary.
7:45-9:45–Saw The First Wives Club–Complicated response. Happy those three women are so good in it. Happy more films about women will be made because this one is making money. But most women I know don’t land up having cat fights and slapping each other. Interesting that How to Marry a Millionaire was a ‘50s fantasy and Getting Dumped by a Millionaire is the ‘90s version. I could be pretentious and say “Revenge” has been a viable dramatic theme since Jacobean tragedy. But that’s neither here nor there. Maybe I wish there were parts for Diane Keaton other than either being dumped or the mother of the bride.
10:30-11:00–Finally began reading V.S. Naipaul. His first trip back to Bombay.
11:00–Lights out. Early breakfast with mother tomorrow. Can’t cancel. Haven’t written a word or called the old boyfriend. Will list the french fries.