June 13, 1989
Eleven hours at the office. I put in comic-book-style impact stars like the ones in Karateka. It helps a lot. It only took three hours. A very good thing to have done.
I’m worried about Jim. I’m starting to wonder if this wasn’t a big mistake. He acts like a good, old-school programmer, but the further along we get, the more it seems like he’s doing all these things for the first time.
Brian strongly advised me not to hire Alick, but said it was up to me.
I signed on for this river trip to Idaho. It’s expensive. The other three people going with Doug are Robert Garriott (president of Origin Systems), Ken Wasch (pres. of the SPA), and Laurent Weill (pres. of Loriciel). As an act of self-definition, this trip terrifies me. It’s the sort of trip that Ed Bernstein and Steve Patrick would go on. I’m 10-20 years younger than these guys and my personal fortune is comparatively miniscule, but sooner or later I’ve got to stop presenting myself to the world as a meek and nerdy kid.
Everyone has their own particular form of self-destruction. Mine, I’m starting to think, is standing outside myself, watching myself live my life, turning my face so as to give the cameras a better angle, and thus missing the whole thing.
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That’s a very deep – if a bit depressed – self-reflection. Everyone’s got their ghastly demons to fight, and we are all “princes” in our own merit.
“Robert Garriot”