Wendy Wasserstein  

Day Three
Wednesday, Oct. 2, 1996

       Went to see my new apartment. I was supposed to move in around five months ago. I tell myself I could easily live anywhere and never notice the surroundings. I have, in fact, lived in a hotel for the past year. Of course, it’s a rather upscale joint. On particularly bad days, I aspire to being a character in Grand Hotel who stays in the bridal suite until the last penny runs out. Anyway, I’m sort of excited about moving in, and sort of wish I had the guts to start again in Jerusalem.
       Managed to avoid work most of the day. Had a board meeting for the British American Arts Association. Ten years ago, I received a midcareer stimulation grant from them. Now I am advising them on International Arts Conferences. I suggested they unravel why the arts have become synonymous with “elitist.” The case for art education in America is made on the same grounds as that for midnight basketball. Jennifer Williams, the artist from Portland, Ore., who runs this organization, is the best of not-for-profit. She’s tireless, committed, hopeful, canny, and altogether impressive. I doubt she notices Bottega Veneta bags.
       Sat in a friend’s dress shop on Madison Avenue for an hour in the afternoon, and watched women with incredible figures try on $2,000 dresses. I have no idea why I am so riveted by this. I tell myself it’s character studies for my next play. I am fascinated by the insularity of the rich. I am appalled by the entitlement.
       Actually finished a piece, and will begin work on another tomorrow. Hoping to finish all magazine pieces by Saturday and return to my play. No casting news. I try not to think about it.
       Had dinner with a friend whose brother, like mine, just got married. The couples at dinner spoke about their children and their schools. Personally, I was rejected by most private schools in Manhattan. A man on the British Arts Association Board told me about a study that has recently been done proving that baby boomers have, by and large, the same values as their parents. It’s the following generation that seems to be emerging with different values. The daughter sitting on her father’s chair last night was exactly what I wanted family life to be when I was her age.
       Thinking of canceling breakfast with my mother tomorrow. She’s very eager to tell me my brother’s third wife is his best wife. I think I need to work.