Steve Jobs's Dark Side: Secrets Confessed by Apple's Big Girl Genius



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Steve Jobs's Dark Side: Secrets Confessed by Apple's Big Girl Genius



Much evidence has been documented, but the memories of his first daughter, Lisa Brennan-Jobs, who have just come out detail him in a more human context. It doesn't appear as a Silicon Valley icon, it's not about Apple or the iPhone. On the contrary, there comes a father who did not want to be such, as a confirmation that what is not used is thrown away, but in the end he cannot. The first stories of “Small Fry” (a phrase that alludes to both children and fried fish, or even something of no importance) focus on criticizing Jobs' irresponsibility when denying fatherhood, his daughter's lack of love, adultery when he was a millionaire, comments and manifestations on sex, inappropriate in front of a girl. Brennan – Jobs only describes in most cases without divulging what it should be. A mix of curiosity and acceptance accompany this story from the opening scene with a dying father to the final scene in the same place. Silicon Valley is no longer the land of counterculture and hippies, but it turns into a capitalist engine of the tech industry. Steve, one of the icons of transformation moves away and approaches and departs, founds Apple and loses it, creates NeXT and Pixar and marries and has children, who treats as such, returns to Apple and transforms the comic with iPhone. Here are some excerpts from this book:

While sharing with Jobs, his girlfriend Chrisann Brennan became pregnant:



He told my dad the next day when he heard that they were in the middle of the room. There was not much furniture, only a carpet. When he told him he was angry, he tightened his jaw and came out of the frenzied door that hit him. He left the car. She thought he had gone to speak to a lawyer who had told her not to talk to him and after that he no longer spoke a word to her.

Lisa was born on a farm of a friend of Chrisann, Robert in Oregon in 1978.

My father arrived a few days later. “It's not my baby,” he told everyone on the farm, but he had come to know me. I had black hair and a big nose and Robert said, “It really looks like you.”

Prior to the Macintosh Job created a computer called Lisa, whose fate seemed to precede her relationship with her daughter.

While my mother was pregnant, my father started working on a computer he later called Lisa. It was the predecessor of the Macintosh, the first mass-market PC with an external mouse, the mouse was as big as a piece of cheese that included software, LisaCalc and LisaWrite names, but it was too costly for the market, a failure of full. The Lisa computer line was cut off and the 3,000 units that were sold were buried in Logan's Utah trash.

He would later deny that he had named Lisa for his daughter's name.

My mother told me how they had chosen my name together, how he had rejected everyone else, while thinking about Lisa. “He loves you,” she told me, “but he doesn't know he loves you.”

Hurried to know before Apple was listed on the stock exchange to pay less for the upkeep.

In 1980, when I was 2 years old, the San Mateo prosecutor's office in California filed a lawsuit against my father for paying for the child's upbringing. The state required him to pay for the upkeep and to return the social security payments his mother received. My father responded by denying paternity and swore in official testimony that he was sterile. A DNA analysis was required. The opportunities we had were the highest with 94.4%. The case was closed on December 8, 1980, with the insistence of my father's attorneys to close it, without letting my mother understand why a matter that had lasted months was now heading toward an accelerated end. 4 days later Apple started listing on the stock exchange and by the morning of that morning it was worth more than $ 200 million.

It was stated to 'Time' that many men could be true fathers.

It happened during a move when a “Machine of the Year” article came out on my father and computers in Time magazine in June 1983. I was 4 years old and he implied that my mother was sleeping with many men and that had lied to her. There he spoke to me: “28% of the male population in America can be her father,” perhaps based on a manipulation of results. When she read the article, my mother moved slowly, her facial muscles reflected, she cooked with the lights off except for one below the cabinet. However, in a few days he regained his humor and sent my father a picture of me sitting on a chair in our house with Groucho Marx mask glasses and big plastic nose and fake mustache. “I believe it's your daughter,” she wrote after the photo. He had a mustache for those times and glasses and had a big nose.

He was rich, but he had holes in his jeans, he was famous but barely talking, his figure was graceful and elegant, but he was clumsy and complicated, he was famous but he looked lost and lonely, he invented a computer, he called my name but he didn't see me and i didn't mention him. They were in a car together, and as he drove into the darkness to Woodside's house he wore a black leather jacket that matched his hair color and gave it a chic look. I felt brave and said: Can I hold it when you don't want it? – What can you keep? -This car. Porshin your, – I was wondering where it led others. “Of course not,” he said in a sour, biting voice that I realized I had made a mistake. He was not generous with the money, with the food but not even with the words. Before I went down he came back and saw me strongly. -There's nothing to you, he said.- Do you understand me? Nothing belongs to you. Did he mean the car, or something bigger? I can't tell, his voice hurt my chest.

Extreme diet and tyrannical behavior.

He had chosen the restaurant. Arrived late. It was always late. When he entered I felt he was not in the mood; probably had not had a good day at work. My mother ordered Roman salads; i linguini with shrimp. We were careful when we were with him. He did not like meat. His code was not about animal care, but about the aesthetics and cleanliness of the body. One yarn separated his citizenship from cruelty. I knew I didn't like the idea of ​​shrimp and I knew what was going to happen, but I had forgotten to tell Sarah (the author's cousin). “I want hamburgers,” he said very loudly. – What are you okay? – he asked Sarah. – What? She asked. She was chewing on a piece of meat. No, – he said, – really? His voice became acute and ringing. 'You can't even talk,' he said, 'you can't even eat. I'm eating slander. She looked at him and appeared to be trying not to cry.

She arranged for him to wait at home.

-If you choose to live with us, you would like me and promise me that you will not meet your mother for 6 months. You have to really try. He had decided that a complete interruption would be more correct. My mother disagreed, but these were his terms. – Otherwise, – said ia, – withdraws the offer. “I want to live with you,” I said with a surety I didn't feel. “You made a very important decision,” he told me wisely. It’s one of those moments of life, one of those moments of adulthood.

He lived in a part of the house without heating.

The night they (Steve and Laurene) went to sleep I felt lonely and crying while I was asleep. I was cold. Then I discovered that the heating in my part of the house was not working. “I was cold,” I told my father in the morning. – Can you adjust the heat? Poured an apple juice from the fridge. – No. Not until we renovate the kitchen. We didn't think to fix it so fast.

She exhibited sexual behavior in her daughter's eyes.

On a weekend evening, while my brother was sleeping, my father, Laurene, and I sat at the table. She cut the watermelon and brought a plate. As he ate the piece, he rubbed it on his lips, soaking it with liquid. My father was sitting next to him as he wet his lips. He grabbed her by the shoulder and approached her. Both formed a cadre; he pulled her over to kiss him, moved her hands around her chest and toward her legs where the end was. He had done the same to Tina, his girlfriend before Lauren. I started to get up and approached the door. – Lis! He said. – Stay there! We were sharing a moment in the family. It is important to try to integrate into this family. I sat down, silent. I glanced down the other side. I had no idea how long it would take. I saw the backyard grass, apple blossoms growing along the brick canyon.

He apologized to Lisa on her deathbed.

“I'm glad you're here,” he said. His warmth disarmed me. The tears fell down the cheeks. Before he got sick I had seen him cry only twice: at his father's funeral and once at the cinema for the end of “Cinema Paradiso” and I thought he was trembling. “It's the last time you'll see me,” he told me. – You have to let me go. – Okay, – I said, but I didn't fully believe it and didn't believe he was going to die next month. “I didn't spend time with you when you were little,” he told me. – I wish we had more time. “No,” I replied. It was weak and fragile. I lay down on the bed watching him. “No it's not good,” he continued. I didn't spend enough time with you. I should have spent more time. It's too late now. – I guess our tempism is not very good, – I replied without being very convinced as I said it. She looked me in the eyes and was filled with tears. – I owe you a debt! I didn't know what to think of that phrase. I repeated it over and over. What I wanted, what I felt I owed, was a place clearly defined in the hierarchy of those he loved. -I'm sorry, Lis! – He was crying and shaking his head. He was sitting with his head between his hands and as he lost weight his hands looked extremely large. – I would like to go back, change, but it's too late. What should i do now? It's too late, just too late! – He was crying and his body trembled. “Okay, I'm here,” I said. – Maybe if there is another time we can be friends? – It was a soft knife; only friends. Indeed during the following weeks and this visit, as well as posthumously, what I regret was our lost opportunity of friendship. “All right,” he said. – But I'm sorry! I owe you a debt.

He speculated that I would write a book.

One night I entered his room upstairs while he was watching Law & Order. He suddenly asked me: – Will you write for me? – No! – I answered. “Okay,” he said and turned to the TV. / Prepared by: Bota.al

Steve Jobs's Dark Side: Secrets Confessed by Apple's Big Girl Genius

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