Dinner at Denis and Dominique Friedman’s. Great meal. Had a good time. Erin, Laurent Weill, and Florence were there too. Denis me cayó mejor aquí en Francia que en California.

Visited Dany Boolauck at Tilt. He invited me to his place for dinner, his mom cooked a spicy Indian curry, and we sat up till midnight talking. Dany’s life is like a Somerset Maugham story. He invited me to be on his TV show in April along with Richard Garriott.

Got a letter from Ken Sherman. He said subtlety doesn’t sell these days and I’d have a better chance if I wrote a high-concept sexy cartoon like Basic Instinct (which I haven’t seen). Hell, if that’s true, why don’t I just stick to video games? Anyway, it was a nice letter.

I’m back to working on the girl-in-the-apartment screenplay. Can’t get too excited about it. I’m in a foul mood. Spleen. When the sky comes down on you like a saucer.

It’s been raining all day.

Saw Bugsy. I feel better now. All I really need is to be working on something, and my existential problems will clear up – I know that. I should know it…

Maybe I should rent an IBM system, so I can work on Prince 2 level design from here. Lord knows I’ve got enough time on my hands.

It costs $800/month to rent an IBM system here. My apartment rent is only $650.

I spoke to Leila and Brian at length. They want me out there. The pressure is on to make the January release, and it looks like some heavy graphics cuts are going to be needed. So I stayed up until three last night making them. I’m actually quite happy with the results. I kick and scream, but the fact is, I like economy of means. A game that looks like they threw everything but the kitchen sink at it is somehow inelegant.

It was good to work on Prince 2 for a bit. Made me feel useful.

I promised Brian I’ll spend three weeks in California in June, before I go to Cuba to shoot the movie.

Sometimes I wish I could cut loose from all this stuff – the computer games, the wanting to be a filmmaker, the endless self-promotion. I’m so bored with my arsenal.

I wish I could be like Patrick just for a little while… so that people would come to me just because I’m cool and it makes them feel more alive just to be with me, and not because of anything I’ve done, or might accomplish in the future.

I wish I had nothing to lose.

Sandra Levinson called! The ICAIC guy she wants to hook me up with is here in Paris.

Alea is dying of lung cancer. Sandra is trying to raise the money to get him to NY for radiation therapy at Sloane-Kettering. They need $35-40,000.

Not one but three DHL packages arrived today – a batch of mail from Mom, a packet of fun stuff from Brian, and five copies of Mac Prince in the new odd-shaped candy box, which – I have to say – looks great, absolutely great. I’m impressed.

It’s sort of cheering to get all this stuff in the mail that’s slickly packaged and brightly colored and aesthetically appealing and full of your name and hyperbole about how great you are. Makes a guy feel more confident about facing the world.

At the same time, though, it feels sort of lonely, because I don’t really have anyone to share it with.

I called Patrick. He’s been having problems with his mother and brother. I asked if there was anything I could do.

He said: “Do you have a ticket to the planet Mars?”

Met with Pepé Horta from ICAIC. He was sympathetic and helpful. If the government doesn’t fall between now and July, I think I’m in business.

Patrick has been falling in love with his downstairs neighbor.

My stuff arrived from Salamanca. Got my books, my music, my clothes. I’m whole again.

Taped the Tilt interview today with Jean-Michel Blottiere. Richard Garriott is on his way back to London and Austin, Texas. He was envious as hell that I’m staying in Paris.

The first really nice day. About time! It’s been a long winter.

Now it’s 6:30 and I’m waiting for Broderbund to call. The big Prince 2 meeting is today and I’m supposed to “sit in” by phone.

Patrick left a message: “Hope you’re fine… me, I’m just fucking happy.”

I called Tomi. I needed to talk to somebody who loved me. She said Florence told her I’m learning French like there’s no tomorrow and that Sallie told her I’m living a life right out of Henry James.

“You have a dream life,” she said. “You’re travelling, you have friends. What exactly is the problem?”