I’m behaving like someone who’s convinced they’re going to die young.

Like these three months in Paris are months I’ve stolen, and it could end at any moment.

About sixteen people have told me I’m “timid.” Even Jamil, the other night, remarked: “When you first came, you were very quiet. Now you’re starting to relax more. I can see the difference.”

What the fuck is that? I’m not timid. Why do I come across that way?

I should make up a little litany to repeat to myself every time I find myself at a party among strangers or meeting people for the first time: “I don’t have to prove anything. I don’t have to impress anybody. These people are as bored with the usual formulas as I am. All they want is a human connection, to snap them out of themselves. They want to laugh and have a good time and feel something, for God’s sake, the same as I do.”

Another thing: When I run across a girl I really like (that rarest and most wondrous of occurrences), don’t rush things! Just behave as if I’m enjoying her company and it makes me happy to be with her, but it’s as if we met by chance and there’s no real expectation that we’ll ever run into each other again. Make eye contact, but don’t stare… Listen, be relaxed and friendly and not, for God’s sake, needy… I’m just moving through the world, always vaguely hoping to come across a kindred spirit, but not really expecting anything. In a word: Be generous!

Dinner with Patrick in a little Russian restaurant on the left bank that has 65 different kinds of vodka. Patrick and the owner got into a long conversation which, thanks to some miracle wreaked by the vodka, I was actually able to follow. Arthur H. comes there a lot.

“OK,” Patrick said. “You want me to tell you your life story? I’m drunk enough for it.”

“You’re never going to be really happy,” he said. “You’ll become a director and a producer and all the things you want to be, but you won’t be a star. You’ll never be a guy like Coppola who takes the spotlight, who climbs the steps of Cannes with a crowd watching him and says ‘This is me, I did this. I’m a genius.’ You’ll be the guy in the shadows. The people who know you and work with you will respect you, but it won’t make you happy, because what you really want is to beat this shyness that’s in you. You want to be the cool guy, the hot dude who has the spotlight and who everybody gathers around. But this shyness you have will prevent you. Every time you have a chance to be the center of attention, you’ll deflect it. You’ll say ‘Oh, this wasn’t really my success, I’m just a little guy.’”

We got back to 8 rue Boutarel at two in the morning. Sandrine was waiting. She jumped into Patrick’s arms like a cat.

[In SF] It’s been a good week, Prince-wise. The Mac version has shipped and, though it’s still early to tell, has all the earmarks of becoming a major hit… 16-bit Nintendo version has been approved and is slated to ship in Japan in July… Konami will distribute it in Europe and North America.

As for Prince 2 (the reason I’m here), it’s a good thing I came when I did. The artists were spinning their wheels mired in confusion and were grateful for my arrival. Once again, I’ve scaled back the graphics load. It didn’t bother me this time. Enough months have passed and I feel distant enough from the project to make the cuts detachedly. The reductions are fairly drastic, but I think there’ll still be enough left to wow ‘em when the product ships.

The pressure to make cuts, to bring it in on schedule and under budget, is coming from a nervous John Baker, who’s getting pressure from above, of course, from Doug. But when I stopped by Doug’s office to say hello, he said: “Don’t compromise on quality. Don’t let them pressure you. What do you care if it ships in January? If they try to rush you, just give ‘em a Gallic shrug.”

I’ve scheduled my next visit for early to mid-July. Right before Cuba.

It’s fun to breeze into town like this for a week, save the day, and leave again before I’ve worn out my welcome. It’s also highly efficient.

Doug was recently the subject of a Forbes spread entitled “Who in the World is Doug Carlston?”

Tina LaDeau came into the office looking for her dad. She’s 21 now. Wow. She could make anybody forget anything.

I called Patrick and read him the French translation of the Mac Prince manual. He confirmed my suspicion that it was not a great translation. We wrote a new version. That is, Patrick did, and I typed it. Hope they use it.

I had lunch with Doug. He suggested making Prince of Persia into a feature film. He thought we could raise a lot of the money from licensees. In a year or two, it just might be within the realm of possibility.

Yesterday was my last day at the ‘Bund. It looks like the project is back on track. It’s a good thing I made this trip.

Today I met my next-door editing neighbors at FEMIS. They were tickled to make my acquaintance. I guess they don’t meet a lot of Americans. Anyway, I showed them BNUPS. They treated it so seriously, it was hilarious. The guy was impressed with my “unique” vision of Paris. The girl liked my “vision” of artistic creation: “So simple… so masculine, yet sensitive.” She asked me what it meant. Ah, French students.

Honestly, up to that point, I’d been feeling like walking away from the whole thing and never showing it to anybody.

Brian and Jeff just called. I miss Broderbund. I miss Prince 2. Why am I in Paris making a dumb student film, instead of in Novato where the action is? Nobody’s ever going to write me a letter from Saudi Arabia saying how much they loved BNUPS.

What am I looking for, anyway? I didn’t find it in New York or California or Spain or Paris, so now I’m going to look for it in Cuba… and I still don’t know what it is, or where all this is leading.

I invited 30 people for Friday night. Hope they’ll all fit in my apartment.

I read Patrick the pulp serial I’d written for my French class to practice the various grammatical constructions we’re studying. He laughed out loud, multiple times. “You got a great sense of humor, man,” he said. “How come it doesn’t show up in your screenplays?”

Had coffee with Sophie on rue de Buci, then we went to Les Halles where she helped me pick out a bunch of French music CDs. Mac Prince was in stock, stacked 15 deep.

My neighbor, the pretty black girl from Madagascar, said: “Hey, I saw you on TV!”

The guy she lives with is a games fiend. They invited me in to see their PC computer. I signed a copy of Prince for them. Life is good.