I have known Reid Hoffman for a long time and have greatly enjoyed the time I have spent with him. Reid has fantastic instincts, is a generous soul and is an intellectual powerhouse. But the thing that I think separates Reid from most of those around him is his thoughtfulness. Reid does not shoot from the hip. Ask him a question and he doesn't immediately launch into an answer. He cocks his head, thinks, and -- only when he feels he has an answer worth delivering -- shares his thoughts on the matter. His thoughtfulness as an entrepreneur, an investor, a board member (I have the pleasure of serving on the Six Apart board with him), harken back to his roots as an Oxford-trained philosopher. Reid's opinions are rooted in history and reason. Things need to "make sense" in the broadest sense of the term for Reid to embrace them. And as a result, he shares smart thoughts, builds smart businesses and makes smart investments.

When word of Reid joining the venture business was first announced, a friend of mine lamented the fact that Reid was now the "competition," but I have to say I really don't see it that way. I can't think of a single wildly-successful, venture-backed company that only had one venture firm as an investor (I guess with the exception of Microsoft, in which my partner Dave was the only professional investor). Company building is a team sport and now, more than ever, who's on your team really matters. That obviously includes the team of entrepreneurs who are building the company. But it also includes the team of investors who are supporting that team of entrepreneurs. So I don't view the arrival of Reid and Marc as greater competition in the venture business. I view it as the arrival of fantastic new collaborators with whom I look forward to working. The more smart people around the table, the better. Welcome, Reid and Marc! We're thrilled to have you on our side of the table.

Just over two weeks ago, I sat in Stanford's Memorial Church, listening to the friends and colleagues of Rajeev Motwani share stories of Rajeev's incredible life and legacy. The outpouring of love and respect for Rajeev was overwhelming. He had touched so many people as a professor, investor, advisor, father, friend. I left the memorial feeling grateful to have been Rajeev's friend and colleague and awed by all that he had accomplished.

Sadly, today I attended another memorial service -- this time for Craig Johnson, the founder of Venture Law Group. Again, the memorial service was filled with stories of a life well-lived. Craig was an incredible builder and connector. After helping hundreds of up and coming entrepreneurs get their businesses off the ground, Craig couldn't help but innovate himself. He launched Venture Law Group in a time when others were complacent to practice law as it had always been practiced before. And recently jumped into the fray again, innovating on the model once more, this time founding Virtual Law Partners. Craig was an unendingly positive man. I was lucky to have started my professional career in the Bay Area in the house that Craig built (VLG) and am deeply saddened to see Craig go.

As I sat in today's service, it struck me that there were certain common themes that flowed through both Rajeev's and Craig's memorials. And it struck me that those themes were perhaps at the heart of what it takes to be successful in Silicon Valley.

Both Rajeev and Craig were deeply intellectually curious people. They loved to learn new things. They loved to explore new ideas. And when they became enthralled with a new idea, both Rajeev and Craig couldn't help but explore that idea with a rigor that one might say bordered on obsessive. They dug in and looked at the idea from all angles. They examined and cross-examined the idea. And those ideas that survived their scrutiny inevitably proved interesting and valuable and worthy of investment (be it in time or energy or dollars).

Both Rajeev and Craig were incredible connectors. So many of us at their memorial services had been introduced to one another by none other than the men we were there to honor. And the scale of both memorial services was a testimony to the vast reach of their respective (and overlapping) networks. But networking wasn't a cynical endeavor for Rajeev or Craig. It was a natural outcropping of their intellectual curiosity. They were as curious about people as they were about ideas. They took a genuine interest in the people with whom they surrounded themselves, and therefore were able to make real, valuable connections among their friends and colleagues.

Most importantly, both Rajeev and Craig were unendingly generous with their time. They were wonderful people to have as friends. They were superb mentors. They were patient advisors. But they weren't just generous to those people they already knew. Rajeev and Craig made time for everyone. And they managed to do it in a way that made everyone feel special. Rejeev's graduate students all felt that they were getting a disproportionate amount of his time. Craig's clients all felt that they were his priority. Rajeev's portfolio companies all felt they had instant access to his advice. Craig's colleagues all felt that he was their personal confidant. And they were all right. Rajeev and Craig were there for everyone. They always made time for those of us around them. And, in return, we all would do anything for them. All they had to do was ask (which, not surprisingly, they didn't do very often).

I will miss both Rajeev and Craig. They were amazing men. And they were amazing role models for all of us in SIlicon Valley.

Why is it that this all-star crowd of tech moguls had pushed aside the very digital domain about which they were so madly taking notes with pen and paper? I think the answer is data overload. The digital world is a land of plenty. Plenty of emails. Plenty of social networks. Plenty of corporate wikis and portals and knowledge management systems. The typical executive these days needs to deal with hundreds, if not thousands, of data points across dozens of services each day. While we all necessarily find ways to consume this huge amount of information, segregating the truly important stuff remains a big challenge. And this is where the notebook comes in.

Notebooks have certain enviable characteristics. They are instant on -- even faster than a laptop with a solid state drive. They have virtually unlimited storage -- just boot a new notebook when the pages are filled. And they perform better than tape for archival storage. Direct sunlight is no problem for a bright white piece of paper. And power management is rarely a problem (although your pen may run out of ink). Notebooks don't require any connectivity. They aren't susceptible to viruses. And they are highly portable. [1]

Given all the analog goodness of notebooks, it is no surprise that there has been a resurgence of paper. Don't get me wrong. I'm not a Luddite by any means. I'm a firm believer in a laptop in every room and a smart phone in every pocket. But, when it comes to keeping track of priority information, it would appear that notebooks are becoming the tool of choice for technology's elite. Perhaps I should hedge my bet and buy some stock in Apple and in Mead.

[1] I realize Notebooks aren't perfect. They perform about as well as laptops when exposed to the elements. They are a terrible collaboration tool. And I have yet to see an effective way to backup your notebooks.

In his post entitled "Keeping the Window Open," Chris cautions the investor community to not be too overzealous in taking companies public during this time when the gently re-emerging market is so fragile. As he rightfully points out, those companies that go public and then promptly miss their numbers, not only tank their own valuations but also spoil the markets for everyone else. If investors can't trust newly minted public companies to do what they said they were going to do, the markets will simply reject future public offerings as more of the same old head fake.

The conversation reminded me of the good old days when I was an attorney. One of my final acts as a lawyer came at the board meeting of a rapidly-growing but somewhat erratic startup. The venture investors in that startup sat at a board meeting reveling in their growing user-base and began discussing the idea of taking the company public. The VCs were in rousing agreement that we should promptly commence work on the company's S-1.

Lacking a certain self-preservation gene, I pointed out to the VCs that should the company miss its numbers after going on file, it would have to pull the filing and be in a much worse position than when it started. Thus, I strongly recommended that the company wait until it had greater predictability of revenue before filing to go public. Not only were the VCs not wowed by my erudite advice, they promptly fired me and hired another attorney to draft the S-1. Of course, I would not be telling this story if the startup did not ultimately miss its numbers and have to pull the filing. More importantly, this was precisely the sort of company Chris cautions us VCs against taking public this time around -- and I am with him one hundred percent.

There are too many great companies lined up and ready to get public for us to jeopardize the IPO window trying to get middling companies out. As Chris rightfully notes, if we can take solid companies public, "[t]heir success should lead to more opportunity for other companies." If, however, we take marginal companies public, their lack of success will spoil the market for even the most solid of performers.

I realize that the lure of liquidity may be too much temptation for some in the venture community, but I would urge patience in the face of uncertainty. The venture business is a long-term business and the more we can do to grow the overall pie by being circumspect about those companies we bring to market, the better off we all will be in the long run.

I got to thinking about this question earlier in the week when I was asked by a friend to discuss "brand" and "brand building" with his team of service professionals. He suggested that it might be interesting for me to talk about how I approached building brand as a lawyer vs. building brand as a VC. And as I pondered that question, I realized that I thought about it exactly the same way.

I should start with my definition of brand. In the venture business (or legal business, for that matter), I don't think of brand as some abstract piece of intellectual property acquired through countless millions of dollars in advertising, sponsorships and the like. Rather, for individuals and firms of individuals, brand is acquired through countless interactions with your customers and the relationships you build from those interactions. In other words, brand is a reflection of how you are perceived on a personal level by your customers.

So who are my customers? One might argue that my customers as a VC are the Limited Partners who invest in my fund. And, to a certain extent, that is true. Without my LPs, I would have no money to invest. But, to my mind, the best way that I can serve my LPs is to appropriately view entrepreneurs as my primary customers. Without entrepreneurs, I will have nowhere to invest my LP's money. And without great entrepreneurs, I will have no economic returns to distribute to my Limited Partners. In fact, without entrepreneurs, the VC business would be a bit like "Waiting for Godot."

Given all that, the conclusion that I have come to is that the best way to be a successful VC -- and maintain a positive brand in a business so fraught with detractors -- is to act like a service provider. The executives of my portfolio companies are my clients. But all entrepreneurs are potential clients. And I need to behave accordingly.

When I was a service provider, I built a reputation on sound advice, responsiveness, attention to detail, ethical behavior, loyalty, tenacity . . . all of which, I believe, are valuable traits for a Venture Capitalist. In the past, I have been asked by entrepreneurs "what will you do for us if you are our investor?" My answer is always the same -- "what do you want?" It is my job as a VC to serve my entrepreneurs (and, in so doing, serve my Limited Partners). Whatever I can do, I will. And I believe that is the right way of thinking of it. Entrepreneurs are not here to serve VCs. VCs are here to serve entrepreneurs. What can I do for you?

The reasons are many.

First, as I peer over the abyss of child number 3 (expected in a couple weeks), I can't begin to imagine how I would be able to allocate the time to give this space the attention it needs. I've already fretted about my failure to give this community the time it deserves in REMIX. Things will only get worse.

Second, even if I could, I'm entering a stage of my work when the ratio of speaking to reading/listening/thinking is changing significantly. I've just taken up my role as director of the Edmond J. Safra Center for Ethics at Harvard. As announced, this means the launch of a 5 year research project on institutional corruption. While I expect that project will have a critical cyber-presence, I don't want its life to be framed by this blog. The mission, the understanding, the community is different.

Third, even if I could, and even if the work I was doing meant I should, there's an increasingly technical burden to maintaining a blog that I don't have the cycles to support. Some very good friends -- Theo Armour and M. David Peterson -- have been volunteering time to do the mechanics of site maintenance. That has gotten overwhelming. Theo estimates that 1/3 of the 30,000 comments that were posted to the blog over these 7 years were fraudsters. He's been working endlessly to remove them. At one point late last year, Google kicked me off their index because too many illegal casino sites were linking from the bowels of my server. I know some will respond with the equivalent of "you should have put bars on your windows and double bolted locks on your front door." Maybe. Or maybe had legislatures devoted 1/10th the energy devoted to the copyright wars to addressing this muck, it might be easier for free speech to be free.

This isn't an announcement of my disappearance. I'm still trying to understand twitter. My channel at blip.tv will remain. As will the podcast, updated as I speak. I will continue to guest blog at Huffington Post. And as Change-Congress.org enters a new stage, I hope to be doing more there. But this community, this space, this board will now rest.

Thank you to the endless list of people who have helped make this place as it is, or was. Theo and M. David especially. Marc Perkel for his free hosting at ctyme.com for so many years. And thank you especially to the inhabitants of this space, especially the fantastic commentators and loyal backbenchers (Three Blind Mice, you have to reveal yourself now and let me buy you a beer). I have enjoyed this wildly more than I have not (again, I whine in REMIX about the not). And I have been very proud to be responsible for certain bits of content -- especially the guest blogging by the interesting and famous (Howard Dean was a favorite, and I will always be proud that I got Judge Posner to experiment with blogging, leading to his wonderful blog with Gary Becker).

Comments on this post will remain open for a week. And then comments on all posts will be locked.

Thank you to everyone, again.

Five-year old Felix's mom, Kierstin, sent me this image a bit ago. "I thought you would get a laugh out of these photos where your Remix became a crucial supporting wall for a Medieval Castle, manned by Playmobile guards and a plastic dinosaur." Indeed.