Michael Joe Armijo's Blog

"Human beings are quintessentially object-seeing beings. We can be in vital contact with new love objects through images, stories, music, drama, scientific discoveries. When this happens, our capacity to know has matured.”— Stephen Cope, Soul Friends (Mystic Resonance)

Alan surprised me with an ALLY MCBEAL postcard — Calista Flockhart smiling that signature half-smirk — on which he’d written a few warm words in the wake of Thanksgiving. How fitting, since we’ll soon see her live on stage at the Canon Theater on December 12th.

Alan wrote:

Dear Michael,

I am thankful for our health first, then our relationship and the love that we have for each other and our families. I am thankful for the time and effort we both put in to make sure that we are both happy guys. We had a Happy Thanksgiving ’99. I hope my cold disappears soon because I must seriously train for the L.A. Marathon in March. I really want to compete.

Love,
Alan

And there it was — “Happy guys.” Two words that felt like a manifesto. A promise wrapped in love and humor and long runs along the beach. So it’s decided: we’ll give this marathon thing a whirl.

December 1, 1999

Our State of California Investment Management fee was due mid-month, so I handled it. The more satisfying task, however, was designing our Verona Capital Management Christmas card. I wanted something subtle, stylish — a subliminal nod to our brand, yet personal.

So, Alan and I found a sun-warmed bench near Santa Monica Beach, unfolded our respective periodicals — Fortune Magazine and The New York Times — and posed for what became a perfect shot: two men side by side, reading life, investing in tomorrow.

It wasn’t just a photo; it was us.

December 2, 1999

I listed some vintage Vanity Fair magazines on eBay, curious to see if nostalgia could turn a profit. A woman named Rina came by for the issue with Geena Davis on the cover.

“Something special about this one?” I asked.

She smiled. “Oh, yes — the Courtney Love interview.”

After she left, curiosity got the best of me. I looked up Courtney Love and Kurt Cobain, the tragic arc of their story. Fame, love, addiction — all intertwined. Life is always stranger, and sadder, than its soundtracks. Still, twenty dollars earned, and a story learned.

Lunch was with Herb Braha — an old friend of Alan’s from his bond-trading days — at The Spitfire Grill. Herb has that New York humor that slices through market talk like a warm knife through butter.

That night, we scored early screening passes to Anna and the King at 20th Century Fox Studios — Jodie Foster playing the widowed British schoolteacher. Elegant, restrained, though perhaps not as soft as the role required.

“You are very difficult woman.” — The King
“Only when it matters.” — Anna

December 3, 1999

A day for small but satisfying things. Sold $5,000 in Treasury Bills. Tulio from Alan’s building dropped by to replace a few bulbs — our home, suddenly brighter.  It's those little things that make the day.  I like it when things get fixed.  It makes us happy guys.

Christmas cards started trickling in — one of those Schulz PEANUTS skating scenes from Mom, another from Cousin Patty in Philadelphia, and one from Birda in Alameda, complete with a digital illustration of a bicycle hidden among snowflakes — a wink to our shared love of biking.

For Hanukkah, Alan made potato pancakes that could win awards. Golden, crisp, gourmet. I devoured three.

December 4, 1999

We took our morning walk to the beach — the light was perfect, soft like memory. I snapped a photo of a father and child silhouetted against the surf, and a surfer slicing through the Pacific’s silver sheen.

That night, we went out with Gloria and Jack to see The End of the Affair. It had all the makings of a masterpiece — Graham Greene’s moral tension, postwar gloom, and forbidden love — but somehow fell short.

“You’re a habit I can’t break, and I’m a disease you don’t want to cure.” — Sarah

Beautifully written, yes, but I still only gave it a “B.”

December 5, 1999

Carrie camped out at our place, buried in history notes and snacks. I caught a candid photo of her mid-study; she wasn’t amused, but that’s my modus operandi.

Alan bought tickets for CHER — February 2, 2000. Something to look forward to!

Later, we watched Tuesdays with Morrie on ABC. Jack Lemmon was magnificent — gentle yet devastating.

“The most important thing in life is to learn how to give out love, and to let it come in.” -Morrie Schwartz

December 6, 1999

We started the morning at the gym — brown rice and smoothie “chillers” afterward. Simple pleasures.

A Costco run, then off to Century City for another early screening: Snow Falling on Cedars, starring Ethan Hawke. Beautifully filmed, a mood piece more than a story. I gave it a “B.”

“Accident rules every corner of the universe except the chambers of the human heart.” — Snow Falling on Cedars

We were happy guys then — not because everything was perfect, but because we understood the art of noticing small perfections: the right light, a postcard, a potato pancake, a line from a film that stays with you long after the credits roll.

And that’s the secret, I think — to stay in vital contact with love objects, as Stephen Cope wrote — not just with people, but with moments.

We were, and still are, learning how to live and be happy guys.

‘He went to the theater as often as possible. He was fascinated by emotion and all the ways it could be falsely induced. He could have been an actor, but he was not.’--Eric Van Lustbader, WHITE NINJA 

 

“He felt that it was a mistake to look for signs and portents instead of waiting until they were revealed to him in their own good time.”— Stefan Zweig, The Miracles of Life

01-01-2000 was looming as the end of November began with fog on the horizon and light through the blinds--a time when even the smallest events of the week seemed to whisper hope and luck.  

November 23, 1999:

Photo: Robyn Dolgin

I called Robyn Dolgin to confirm her appointment at the Verona office — we’re putting together a financial plan for her, though she’s “pay-by-the-hour only.” I don’t mind; Robyn’s a pleasure to work with, a former colleague from Charles Schwab & Co. — one of those people whose calm competence reminds you that the world still makes sense.

That evening, Alan and I drove to LAX to pick up Lauren, freshly escaped from New York University and beaming with collegiate confidence. Watching her stride through baggage claim with that half-grown, half-knowing look made me think of the film Six Degrees of Separation from 1993— those home-from-college scenes when youthful certainty fills every room. Lauren wasn’t quite like that, but close enough for us to laugh about it later.

November 24, 1999:  

We joined the crowds at the multiplex for End of Days — “The Arnold” saving the world once more, this time from Satan himself. The film earned a polite C, though its poster’s proclamation “The End Is Coming” felt strangely apt for 1999.

“Between good and evil, only one will survive.” — End of Days

Later that night, I insisted we switch gears entirely — from apocalypse to Americana — watching Norman Rockwell: Painting America on PBS.  His worlds of Thanksgiving tables and small-town innocence felt wonderful against all that end-of-the-world bravado. Between the two, I suppose we saw both extremes of the century’s imagination: fire and family.

November 25, 1999:

We spent Thanksgiving at Susan Freiman’s home — laughter, candles, and a group photo that captured the fleeting illusion of time standing still. Everyone’s smiles had that slight tremor of nostalgia, as though we already knew this century’s gatherings were numbered.

Who was there?  Alan and I, Jack and Gloria, Lauren and Carrie Art Kleinman and his daughter, Stephanie, and son, Bradley, and the entire Ron & Cora Fischman Family (Michael, Leslie and Nicole). Good food, good laughs.  What more could one ask for?  Thankful.

November 26, 1999:  

Alan and I met on our rooftop for a Verona meeting — the kind that feels both practical and prophetic when held under an open sky.

Later, I opened letters — handwritten relics of real conversation.
Barbara Reynolds wrote about stormy weather, wrinkled skin, and the Leonid Meteor Shower.  Only she would know about things in other orbits.  I would have no clue otherwise.

“The moon is getting full again… did you get to see it?” she asked.

She had just seen The Insider (“complete with scenes of Berkeley”) and The Straight Story, two films about truth and forgiveness. 

“What do you think you’re doing? You’re telling the truth.” — The Insider

“The worst part of being old is remembering when you were young.” — The Straight Story

Then came my cousin, Edna Maestas, whose letter began with gratitude from the gift I sent for her Birthday last month—

“Thank you so much for the Carolina Herrera! I’m looking forward to wearing it to two special Christmas parties.”

Her humor brightened the page:  a story about a woman fainting while painting because the directions said to apply “two coats.” 

But then the letter deepened. She spoke of mediating between two teenage girls — one called a mojada by another who didn’t realize her own mixed roots.

“Racism is ugly,” she wrote. “We all have Spanish and Indian blood of some sort.”

And then, I like how she gracefully wrote:

“I don’t say English only, I say English plus! … No digo Español nomás — yo digo Español y más!”

She closed with warmth that will stick with me:

“Wishing you and your family and friends a Thanksgiving filled with love for one another.”

November 27, 1999: 

Breakfast at Il Fornaio with Lauren was blessed— the kind of morning when conversation hums between the clink of cappuccino spoons. Then a matinee of Liberty Heights, Barry Levinson’s portrait of America in transition.

“You’re only young once, but you remember forever.” -Liberty Heights

That night we pivoted to The World Is Not Enough. Pierce Brosnan’s James Bond proclaimed, 

“There’s no point in living if you can’t feel alive.”  -The World Is Not Enough

It felt like the line of a man (and perhaps a century) trying to convince himself of his own vitality. Two films in one day — one nostalgic, one kinetic — both held by the same truth: time keeps moving, but memory slows it down.

November 28, 1999: 

A quiet Sunday of reading and rest.

A letter from my niece Holly arrived, typed neatly on white paper.

“How come you never come for Thanksgiving anymore?” she began, disarmingly direct.

She told me she’d heard I lived “in the same building as Mariah Carey” and urged me to “get her autograph.”  Her grades followed — “English B, Language B, History C+…” — then a confession about struggling in math and a hopeful plea:

“Maybe you could help me when you come for Christmas.”

It was pure sweetness with a round of family guilt.  The innocence of her words was its own kind of faith — a reminder that in an age of chaos and countdowns, family letters were still the simplest proof of connection.

November 29, 1999: 

We drove Lauren back to LAX, sending her toward the skyscrapers of New York and another semester of learning and independence. That night Gloria made us dinner — a quiet closing note after a week of noise and meaning.

Between End of Days and Toy Story 2, we were warned of Y2K this week, the movies dramatized our anxieties, and yet my letters — Barbara’s, Edna’s, Holly’s — breathed something timeless: gratitude, humor, forgiveness, and love.

“You never forget kids like Andy, but they forget you.” — Toy Story 2

The signs were always there — in a full moon, a wrinkled hand, a niece’s typed letter — not heralding an end, but reminding us that every ending, in its own time, reveals the quiet miracle of simply being alive. 

“He is staggering in a wonderful kind of vertigo.”
— Stefan Zweig, A Story Told in Twilight

 

“It’s not what you look at that matters, it’s what you see.” — Thoreau, as read in Matt Haig’s The Midnight Library

November 16, 1999:  

Alan and I love walking the London scene. That evening, we managed to get tickets to A Song at Twilight, Noël Coward’s late-career chamber play starring Vanessa Redgrave. Set in a Swiss hotel suite, it tells of an aging, celebrated author who is confronted by his former lover, Carlotta, and forced to reckon with the secrets he has buried—especially the truth of his homosexual past. It’s a story about reputation, regret, and the high price of concealment.

One line pierced through the velvet atmosphere of the play: “You’ve been homosexual all your life and you know it.” Vanessa Redgrave delivered it with a mix of grace and fire, and the words seemed to echo beyond the stage, daring everyone to confront their own hidden truths.

Alan scribbled me a note after the show, writing: “The London theatre tour is really taking hold—five shows in all with more to go. I hope you don’t think me a nag for giving you cards, but I just love being with you. I’m loyal. Love you very much.”

November 17, 1999:  London’s fall theatre season was alive with new energy. At 2 p.m., we attended a matinee of Beauty and the Beast at the Dominion Theatre. The music soared, a reminder of childhood magic.  That evening, joy erupted at the Prince Edward Theatre with Mamma Mia!, ABBA’s anthems weaving together a story of love, family, and freedom. The audience couldn’t help themselves—hands clapping, voices rising, hearts lifted. “Dancing Queen” felt like a hymn for everyone who had ever wanted to let go.

November 18, 1999:  

I wandered through Hyde Park with my camera. The bare branches, the foggy light, the quiet benches—London in autumn always carries with it a sense of stories untold. Every time I walk here, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde comes to mind—the duality of shadow and light living in every human heart.

That evening, Helen Mirren held the stage in Collected Stories. She played Ruth Steiner, a writer betrayed by her young protégé who mined Ruth’s private past for her own art. Mirren’s performance was a masterclass in restrained fury and hidden pain.

I couldn’t help but recall her first striking me as Morgana in Excalibur back in 1981—an enchantress of darkness. Here, her line about human frailty stuck with me: “What relationship is ever truly resolved? People… behave badly, or take a wrong turn, or get sick and die. It happens.”

November 19, 1999:  

We explored Top Man for stylish clothes, and stumbled across a growing little chain called Pret a Manger. Alan half-joked about bringing it to the U.S., only to be told it wasn’t franchising yet. “Boo-hoo,” he sighed.

We spent much of the trip trading postcards and notes, almost like secret love letters. Alan reminded me in one: “With each type of wine, the aroma and taste get better and better. Exactly like the years of our relationship—it will only get better. I love you with all my heart.”

November 20, 1999:  

A milestone: ten years since the day we met in West Hollywood on November 20, 1989. We marked it with a photograph at the Covent Garden Internet Exchange, then wandered into the Ted Baker boutique, where a kind woman helped Alan pick out a scarf. By the time we left, she confided with a smile, “I’m Ted Baker’s mum.” London moments are like that—unexpected, intimate, unforgettable.

Alan handed me another postcard that night: 

“Ten years. You are my love boy. I love you.”

November 21, 1999:  

I coaxed Alan into seeing the boy band FIVE at Club Astoria. “Come on—it’ll be fun,” I said, and it was. The air was thick with energy, the crowd a swirl of dancing bodies. I snapped one of my most treasured photographs: two English boys kissing, entirely unaware of the world. I titled it The English Boys.

Later, the band launched into “Keep On Movin’.” My blurry shot of them mid-chorus captures the chaos and pulse of the night.

We managed to find a photo booth at Covent Garden and snapped ourselves inside the booth.  I had the photo inside my overcoat pocket.  I liked when I randomly found it as my hands needed warmth inside my pockets.  It was good for a laugh.  We all need laughs. 

November 22, 1999: 

Our final day at the Mayfair Intercontinental Hotel, Room 601. The bed lay unmade as we packed, a quiet snapshot of love and departure. From Paddington Station, we boarded the train toward Heathrow for our flight back to Los Angeles.

Alan took a photograph of me on a bench in Berkeley Park, surrounded by autumn leaves. The London chill was in the air, but so was beauty—and beauty, after all, is what we had come here to fall into again.

“If there is anything at all worthwhile in our existence, it is falling in love; and if there is any goal left, that goal is falling in love with beauty.”
— Walter Mehring, The Lost Library (1950)

“He always ended up saying the same thing: IF you spend one penny less than you earn every month, you’ll be happy.  He’d look at me with those sad, dark eyes and lay this one on me.  That the secret of happiness basically is two cents.”—Barbara Kingsolver, Demon Copperhead

I photographed our Verona office today, November 9, 1999 — glass walls, neat desks, leather chairs, and magazines fanned on the table in the waiting area. It was perfect for us, though few clients visited. It gave us legitimacy, a headquarters, a place to gather focus. Still, both Alan and I knew we could just as easily run the business from home. Time would tell if we needed the space, but at that moment it felt grounding.

That evening, we drove downtown for dinner at Koo Koo Roo, then stepped into the Mark Taper Forum to see Tina Landau’s Space. A sleek, tech-heavy production, it told the story of a neuro-psychiatrist who becomes a reluctant confidant for patients claiming alien abductions. Landau balanced science and faith, skepticism and longing, while the Taper’s staging dazzled with lighting tricks and projections. Critics later called it ambitious yet muddled, but what stayed with me was its sense of dislocation — of humans peering skyward, searching for meaning.

November 10, 1999:  The gym was bright and alive, machines in neat rows, Pepsi banners looming from the walls. I snapped a photo of Alan bent over one of the Life Fitness machines, his gloved hands gripping the handles, his smile betraying both effort and humor. A small triumph in sweat.

That night we saw Mansfield Park. Frances O’Connor gave Fanny Price both resilience and fire. One line lingered in me: “I was quiet, but I was not blind.” A reminder that silence does not equal ignorance, and that strength often resides in observation.

11/11/1999:  On the Venice Pier, a seagull perched, gazing at the water with a wisdom I fancied belonged to someone I once knew. Perhaps absurd, but the thought clung to me as I lifted my camera. There was a stillness in its posture, a meditation in feathers.

That evening, Alan and I went to Lawry’s Prime Rib. Thick cuts of beef, creamed spinach and creamed corn, Yorkshire pudding—the kind of dinner that demands one has run earlier in the day, which thankfully, we had.

November 12, 1999:  A card arrived in the mail from Dorothy Rua, adorned with calla lilies — those sculptural blooms captured in black and white. Dorothy’s handwriting poured warmth and humor, recounting hot rod shows, road trips, and even the prospect of becoming a caregiver to a wealthy 90-year-old man. Her letters always balanced playfulness with poignancy, and this one was no different.

That night we saw Anywhere But Here, with Susan Sarandon and Natalie Portman. The mother-daughter tension was palpable, but softened by humor and love. I remember Sarandon’s line: “You don’t have to be like me, but the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” It stung with truth about family, expectation, and identity.

November 13, 1999:  Jack and Gloria invited us to their apartment. The table was laid beautifully — veal Milanese served with warmth, wicker baskets of bread, napkins folded with care. I captured a candid photo of them, smiling, hands clasped as if the dinner was not just about food but about the bond of friendship.

Later that night Alan and I went to see The Messenger: The Story of Joan of Arc. Milla Jovovich brought fiery conviction to Joan, with words that echoed long after: “I am not afraid… I was born to do this.” John Malkovich, steady and sly, embodied Charles VII with nuance.

November 14, 1999:  

A card from Monica Small arrived. She teased about “the tortured mother” on the cover, her children sucking the life from her, and then slipped in her real news: she’d booked a room at the Bonaventure for the LA Marathon 2000. “Are you running?” she asked. I smiled. Running, yes — but not 26 miles on concrete anymore. The knees remind you of limits.

Earlier that day, Alan and I went to Nate N’ Al’s, a Beverly Hills ritual. I photographed waitresses Kaye and Vicky, their sass and humor the soul of the place. Nate N’ Al’s wasn’t about the food alone; it was about the people who gave the deli its pulse.

By evening, we were en route to London, our timing uncanny after watching Mansfield Park earlier in the week.

This photo of Kaye and Vicky, immortalized behind the tables, their banter as iconic as the pastrami sandwiches and lox, eggs and onions they served.

November 15, 1999:  We landed in London around noon.   The purpose of this trip was to celebrate our 10 years from the day we met (November 20, 1989).  A new song drifted from the taxi driver's radio — Westlife’s Flying Without Wings.  One lyric captured the essence of love’s mystery:

  “You’re the place my life begins, and you’ll be where it ends.” 

Another, almost whispered: 

“Everyone’s looking for that something.” 

Earnest, yes, but it grafted itself onto memory, forever tying London’s cold gray skies to the warmth of that song.

We checked into The Hempel, a minimalist hotel where the bathroom sink was comically tiny. Alan and I burst into laughter. Sometimes travel delights in the absurd, reminding you that joy often comes from the smallest of details.

This week merged offices and theaters, letters and dinners, gym workouts and prime rib, seagulls and calla lilies. Dorothy’s lilies reminded me of constancy, Monica’s card pointed to the future, and London awaited with its songs and surprises. Mansfield Park’s quiet defiance, Anywhere But Here’s thorny tenderness, Joan of Arc’s unflinching courage, and Westlife’s yearning lyric — each left its mark.

Every detail, no matter how small, was part of the mosaic that defined not just what we did, but who we were becoming at the edge of a new century — grafting melody onto memory.

“I decide on running. Running time is thinking time.”
—Simone Buchholz, Blue Night

"Return acts of kindness with kindness and never avenge insults."--Confucius, from the Pocke Philosophical Dictionary, VOLTAIRE

The week unfolded as a collage of contrasts: joy and grief, films and postcards, Europe and Los Angeles.

November 2nd (1999) began with anticipation. I bought tickets to see BASH at the Canon Theater in Beverly Hills — a play starring Calista Flockhart, then riding high as America’s “Ally McBeal.” The performance was set for December 12, and I looked forward to seeing her live, without the filter of television.

Photo:  Charles Tafoya

But life balances itself. That morning, I received word that my relative (first cousin once removed) Charles Tafoya had died of lung cancer in Colorado. The decades of smoking had finally taken their toll.

Alan and I kept our rituals intact. I photographed him reaching into the trunk of his classic red car for our newspapers before we drove to Peet’s Coffee in Brentwood. Later that evening, thanks to free passes from my French Consulate contact, Lisa, we saw the French film Train of Life.

It was unlike anything in Hollywood — a surreal tragicomedy about Jews escaping the Holocaust by pretending to be deported. At times absurd, at times devastating, it danced between satire and sorrow. It left me haunted, reminded that history can be reframed not only with suffering but with imagination.

On the 3rd, we gathered food from Whole Foods and picnicked at our “Secret Spot” in Pacific Palisades. The bench there overlooks the Pacific Ocean — a place where thoughts expand and settle at once.

The next day, November 4th, I poured myself into a long letter to Paloma in France. It became a meditation on Europe, music, and the shifting colors of culture. I told her about discovering CDs by Lutricia McNeal (365 Days) and U96 (Heaven), about missing Europe’s easy rhythm:

“When in Europe I love to watch the music channels on TV because they show different videos than here. Then I write down the songs, groups, & try to find the music.”

I even wrote about house hunting — comparing Los Angeles real estate to Europe — and slipped in celebrity gossip from the Hotel Principe di Savoia stationery I was jotting on:

“JFK Jr.’s loft was too expensive — they marked up the price just because he lived there. But we’re walking distance from where he lived.”
“Johnny Depp got some French model pregnant — Vanessa Paradis, I guess she’s an actress, not just a model.”
“In the NY Post, police raided an apartment in Texas for noise complaints and found two men naked — one of them Matthew McConaughey. Now that’s gossip!”

That same afternoon, Alan gave me a postcard that felt like a kiss on paper:

“You are the best chatter around. You love to read to me — articles, magazines, business notes. You are so complex and full of surprises. I love that about you. I especially love listening to you talk. Today, we had coffee at Joni’s. Next April, let’s try Bouley Bakery in New York. Love you, Alan.”

Later that night, we dressed up for a Gourmet Magazine Christmas cocktails party at Geary’s in Beverly Hills. It was a swirl of crystal, hors d’oeuvres, and mingling — but no new clients came of it. Que sera sera.

Friday morning began with a run, abs, and the daily ritual of Joni’s Coffee Shop.

On Saturday, I read my newspaper at Peets Coffee, Alan snapped a photo of me, and then Gloria joined us for lunch at the Farmers Market in West Hollywood. That night, the four of us — Alan, Gloria, Jack, and me — went to Century City to see The Bone Collector, with Denzel Washington as a paralyzed detective and Angelina Jolie as his rookie partner. Dark, suspenseful, atmospheric, it played like a chess game with a serial killer leaving cryptic clues. I gave it an A-. 

That day we also prepared a card for Mom and Virginia. On the front, a photograph of our shelves stacked high with folded T-shirts. Inside, we wrote:

“Dear Mom — The little things you do are BIG things to us & we want to thank you for your special touch. Love, Michael”

“Dear Virginia — Thanks so much for caring about us & making sure we wear the right T-shirts. I appreciate it! Love, Alan.”

Alan placed another postcard on my desk that Sunday, dated 11/7/99. His words carried the weight of time:

“It’s just about two weeks until our tenth anniversary. A tender relationship takes a lot of work, patience, and continuity. We’ve done quite a good job working at it, don’t you think? We clearly picked the right person.”

That evening we dined at Asia de Cuba in the Mondrian Hotel with our new friend Randy Cooper and his pal Neil (a coincidence, since Neil is also Alan’s middle name). The evening ended with a group photo on a leather couch — stylish, slightly mischievous, the kind of picture that belongs in an album titled Los Angeles Nights.

Monday was quieter, spent organizing at home. Later, Alan and I went to see Michael Mann’s The Insider. The story of a tobacco-industry whistleblower, played by Russell Crowe, with Al Pacino as the journalist who risks everything to air the truth. It was taut, intelligent, and heavy with moral weight. I gave it a B+ — strong, but a touch long-winded.

In the span of a week, life gave me the shock of Charles Tafoya’s passing, the poetry of Alan’s postcards, the rituals of coffee shops and folded T-shirts, the glamour of a Beverly Hills cocktail party, and the haunted laughter of Train of Life.

The gossip scribbled on hotel stationery — JFK Jr.’s loft, Johnny Depp’s affair, McConaughey’s scandal — sat side by side with whispered I-love-yous on postcards. And somehow it all belonged together.

Because the cinematic quality of life isn’t just in the movies we watch, but in the words we exchange. Sometimes gossipy, sometimes tender, always alive. And sometimes, it arrives as simply as a postcard slipped across a desk — a kiss on paper.

The Vagus Nerve is the largest and one of our most important bundle of nerves.  It is connected to digestion, sex, and breathing--to the mechanics of being alive.   When we witness suffering our Vagus Nerve makes us care.  People with especially strong Vagus Nervers (Vagal Superstars) are more likely to cooperate with others and to have strong friendships.  Practice the simple act of bowing down (as the Japanese peoples often do).  This gesture actually activates the Vagus Nerve.--Susan Cain, in her book, BITTERSWEET

'The roller coaster of life is when the car reached bottom, the next curve was up.'--Thomas Thompson, from his book, BLOOD AND MONEY

Life's weeks are threads, and sometimes they fray, sometimes they shine.  This week unfolded like a tapestry of contrasts—letters from afar, deep family wishes, cinematic escapes, and moments of raw reality.

A Letter from France and a Thriller with Mom:  

The week began with a letter dated October 26th from my dear friend Paloma, who was writing from Balaruc-Les-Bains, France.  Her flowing handwriting stretched across pages of hotel stationery, a tangible connection bridging the distance between us.  She wrote about the French government taxing foie gras, a humorous nod to her recent travels, and even shared her new email address at the end—proof of how the digital world was just beginning to intertwine with our lives.

Reading her words transported me to her corner of France, with mentions of coastal villages, film recommendations, and even musings on Johnny Depp’s partner Vanessa Paradis. Letters like hers have a way of reminding me how friendships can remain vibrant across oceans and time zones.

That evening, my mom was still visiting after our recent Europe trip, and we went to see Double Jeopardy, starring Ashley Judd and Tommy Lee Jones. It was a heart-pounding thriller with clever dialogue. Two lines stayed with me:

“The thing about running is you never know if you’re chasing or being chased.”

“You can’t kill your husband twice…unless you’re really lucky.”

The second line was particularly fitting for a film built around deception and revenge.

October 27, 1999, Larry Ellison Speaks: 

At 1:30 PM, I listened to Larry Ellison, the enigmatic CEO of Oracle, speak about the future of his company. Ellison was known for his bold statements, and that day he emphasized Oracle’s push toward the internet, declaring that Oracle would “completely rewrite its software to run natively on the web.”

This was a pivotal moment, signaling the dawn of the cloud-driven world we take for granted today.  He spoke of how Oracle’s databases would power e-commerce and reshape industries.  Looking back, it was like watching someone sketch the blueprint of the future in real time.  This is my business; therefore, I have to keep abreast of some of these companies--even the ones I don't like much.

October 28,  A Call from LuLu

The next day, I received a surprising phone call from Lulu, who interviewed me for potential inclusion in a Who’s Who book of people in the finance industry. It felt both flattering and slightly surreal to imagine my name printed among the notable figures of my field.

And Barbara Reynolds sent a funny postcard that I simply laughed out loud.  She wrote:

28, Oct. 1999

Mike, 

43 years ago today my first niece was born.  

I am exploring San Francisco more now and very happy to be working her enow.  I feel more energy, and I am given more work to do (a huge project of adjustment).  This afternoon I began one adjustment to a client for $5476 of which I was told I am only able to adjust one-fifth of it, and I expect I won't complete it until Monday.  The word is tedious.  One worker says she falls asleep doing the tedious work.  I wish I could, so Ia m trying to us meditation techniques.  I just don't know why I think I should try to work faster. Hmmm...well, tomorrow I will wear my Velveteen Rabit suit to wear for Halloween spirit.  I think it will be a nice office party, and I will be comfy.

Barbara 

October 29, 1999:  Martie's Three Wishes and a Double-Feature Friday

My cousin Martie Seper (formally Cecelia Martha Chavez-Seper) was in San Jose, far from her home in Van Nuys, visiting her sister, Dora. On her way to church, Martie called and shared three heartfelt wishes that revealed her heavy burdens:

“I wish someone else would drive us to the hospital in San Francisco.”

“I wish someone would put my nephew, Johnny, out of his cancerous misery.”

“I wish I could sell my house in Van Nuys.”

Her words reminded me of an eternal truth: you never truly know the struggles another person is carrying.

Later that evening, Alan and I went to the Westside Pavilion for Double-Feature Friday. We saw The Limey and Red Corner back-to-back.

From The Limey, one quote resonated deeply:

“Tell me. Tell me about Jenny. Tell me what happened to my little girl.”

A raw reflection of grief and the relentless pursuit of truth.

From Red Corner, starring Richard Gere, came a haunting reminder of power and corruption:

“In China, you're guilty until proven innocent.”

A stark contrast to the freedoms we often take for granted.

October 30, 1999:  A Wish Fulfilled and a Day of Reflection

In the early hours of October 30th, one of Martie’s wishes came true, though tragically. Her nephew Johnny Vigil passed away at 4:00 AM after a long battle with cancer that had ravaged his stomach, liver, and kidneys. He was only 52 years old. Johnny was Dora’s beloved son.

The weight of his passing hung heavy over the day--even if I had never met him in my life.  He was still family.

Later, I immersed myself in a thorough Verona Capital client portfolio review, grounding myself in work amid the emotional whirlwind.

That evening, Alan and I returned to the Westside Pavilion, this time with Gloria and Jack, to see Dreaming of Joseph Lees. It was a quieter, more introspective film. One line stood out:

“Sometimes dreams are the only way to survive reality.”

Back home, we ended the night by revisiting Sliding Doors on VHS, newly available at Blockbuster Video. Watching it again, with its themes of fate and alternate realities, felt especially poignant given the events of the day.

October 31, 1999, Halloween in Palm Springs

Halloween took us to Palm Springs, where we redeemed a complimentary stay we had won at a recent OutFest silent auction. The place was called CHESTNUTZ, and while clothing was optional by the pool, Alan and I kept our bathing suits firmly on.

The experience? Let’s just say… Jeepers Creepers! We would never stay at that dive again. It was a Halloween horror of a different kind.

November 1, Class and Elegance Restored

The next night, balance was restored. We checked into the Ritz Carlton in Rancho Mirage, a world apart from the previous night’s chaos. A beautiful Jaguar parked outside caught my eye—a symbol of the refinement I craved after the Palm Springs misadventure.

As the week closed, I reflected on the threads of life—family wishes, the sting of loss, the escapism of cinema, and the small luxuries that bring joy. Tomorrow, November 2nd, my nephew Dylan turns seven years old, a reminder that even as some chapters close, others are just beginning.

Films of the WeekDouble Jeopardy – Clever twists and thrilling suspense.The Limey – A powerful meditation on revenge and grief.Red Corner – A haunting depiction of justice gone wrong. Dreaming of Joseph Lees – Gentle and poetic, exploring dreams versus reality.Sliding Doors – A timeless reminder of fate’s delicate intersections.Closing Thought:“You never know what burdens someone carries, or what dreams they cling to. Be kind. Always.”

This week, from Paloma’s handwritten letter to Martie’s spoken wishes, I was reminded that life is both fragile and wondrous. We move forward, one moment at a time, never knowing which thread will hold and which will fray.

'Every end is a beginning.'--Zoran Drvenkar, in his book "YOU"

‘He viewed automobiles as a nuisance, both on the streets and in conversation.’--Hernan Diaz, in his book, TRUST 

It’s hard to believe that twenty-six years have passed since our whirlwind European journey in October of 1999. Looking back at my diary entries from that week, I’m struck by how vivid the memories remain—shopping for Dolce & Gabbana in Milan, watching Eyes Wide Shut dubbed in Spanish, savoring tapas under a moonlit ceiling, and wandering through some of Europe’s most beautiful streets and plazas. This trip was a collision of elegance, laughter, and small moments of wonder—woven together like threads in a rich tapestry. 

October 19, 1999, A Day of Fashion and Friendship 

With a pesky car problem finally resolved, we set off from our hotel by 9:30 a.m. Alan had quickly befriended the doormen, ensuring our car stayed safely guarded out front. We strolled the streets of Milan, stopping for cappuccinos, croissants, and a quick bite before diving into the day. 

The highlight was our visit to La Sinagente, a discount outlet store where temptation lurked in every aisle. Alan scored a beautiful brown jacket while I indulged in Dolce & Gabbana pants, a pair of chic brown Italian designer trousers, and a navy-blue velvet-like shirt by EXTE. Virginia and Gloria didn’t find much beyond window-shopping, but the thrill was in the hunt. 

Afterward, we wandered into a nearby hair salon where mom (Virginia) had her hair done, and Alan and I couldn’t resist joining in for trims. The owner, Max—a vibrant, talkative man—mentioned a local restaurant called Busy Bee, promising it would be unlike anything we’d ever seen. 

Later, we lunched atop La Rinascente, the Italian department store, gazing out over the majestic Duomo. The day ended in an enchanting blur of fountains, live piano music, and finally, dinner at Busy Bee. 

The restaurant was magical: painted murals of palm trees, glowing blue water, and a ceiling bathed in moonlight. A live musician sang in Italian, and the food was just as delightful. We dined with the friends we’d met earlier, savoring the warmth of connection in a city far from home. 

October 20, 1999, A Journey to Madrid 

The next morning, we said goodbye to Milan and embarked on our journey to Madrid. Along the way, a quick layover in Brussels gave us a chance to explore duty-free shops where Gloria stumbled upon Gianfranco Ferré perfume, a scent she had long coveted since 1990. 

Arriving in Madrid, we checked into the Palace Hotel, a place of historic grandeur. Built in 1912 under the vision of King Alfonso XIII, the hotel has long been a symbol of Spanish luxury and elegance. Its grand lobby, lined with marble columns and glowing chandeliers, felt like stepping back into a more opulent era. The rooms exuded timeless charm, blending classic architecture with modern comforts. 

By evening, we dressed quickly and strolled through the city for a traditional Spanish paella dinner, navigating with a local magazine article as our guide. Walking back to the hotel, we passed a Planet Hollywood, where we learned that Bruce Willis was staying just across the street—a touch of Hollywood glamour in the heart of Spain. 

October 21, 1999, Museums and Moonlit Tapas 

We awoke to the soft patter of rain and set out for the Thyssen Museum, immersing ourselves in the brilliance of European masters. Afterward, we strolled past the Banco de España, our umbrellas twirling against the wind, and began to plot the evening’s adventures. 

That night, the four of us gathered in the Grand Ballroom for cocktails and tapas, basking in the Palace Hotel’s majestic ambiance. Gloria ordered a Grand Palace cocktail, a sweet concoction tinged with blue curaçao, while my mom sipped a margarita. It was one of those evenings where the glow of chandeliers seemed to slow time itself. 

October 22, 1999, Eyes Wide Shut 

Our morning began with a sumptuous breakfast buffet, after which we set out to explore Madrid. Shopping took us to Purificación García, where Alan helped me select a sleek black leather jacket that felt effortlessly chic. From there, we explored the Palm Tree Train Station, marveled at its architecture, and even stopped at McDonald’s—a quirky little slice of America amidst the grandeur of Spain. 

But the highlight of the day came later: a Spanish-language screening of Stanley Kubrick’s final masterpiece, Eyes Wide Shut. Seeing Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman dubbed in Spanish was surreal. The dubbing was so precise that it truly seemed like they were speaking the language. 

"No dream is ever just a dream." – Bill Harford, played by Tom Cruise 
"If you men only knew." – Alice Harford, played by Nicole Kidman 

The film, steeped in erotic mystery and psychological tension, follows a Manhattan doctor whose jealousy and curiosity lead him deep into a secret world of desire and danger. It was thrilling, haunting, and deeply thought-provoking—perfectly suited for a rainy Madrid evening. 

Unfortunately, this was also the day I noticed a nagging irritation on my lower left leg. Days earlier, I had scraped it while exploring the Blue Grotto, and in a moment of carefree fun, splashed its brilliant turquoise water onto the wound. Now, as we walked through Madrid’s bustling streets, a rash was beginning to form—a small but worrisome reminder of our travels.  I had immediate plans to see my UCLA doctor once I returned to L.A.

October 23, 1999, Last Day in Madrid 

Our final day in Madrid unfolded leisurely. Alan suggested we explore the city by metro, each of us picking a random stop: 

I chose the Garcia Nolebjas, a nod to my grandmother Mathilde’s maiden name. 

Mom (Virginia) picked Lucero, drawn to it as it is her maiden name. 

Alan selected Chueca, known for its vibrant, colorful energy. 

Gloria picked Buenos Aires, intrigued by its international flair. 

Lunch was a cozy affair, complete with garbanzo bean soup and laughter echoing around the table. Despite the drizzle and the growing irritation on my leg, I felt at peace. That evening, we capped our trip with tapas and wine before beginning the long journey home. 

Reflections 

As we boarded our flight back to Los Angeles, I couldn’t help but reflect on how travel compresses time. In just a few days, we’d crossed countries, shared meals under moonlit ceilings, discovered hidden shops, and even brushed against Hollywood fame. Madrid’s Palace Hotel still lingers in my memory—a beacon of timeless grandeur, a reminder that beauty and history can coexist in perfect harmony. 

"Travel is the only thing you buy that makes you richer." 

This week was a testament to that truth. And though my leg bore a small reminder of the Blue Grotto’s waters, my heart carried the vibrant pulse of Milan and Madrid—a rhythm that continues to echo through the years.  Besides my forthcoming doctor appointment, I needed a new haircut by Aeesha.  I’m on to the next best thing.  

‘For in his experience, a sigh was something one expressed when one finds that one is doing something that he has no inclination to do.’--Amor Towles in his short story, A WHIMSY OF THE WORLD 

 

“A clean home, a clean body, and clean company.  Do you know where that leads?” To a clean conscience.  To a good, clean life.” --Nita Prose, in her book THE MAID 

The evening before Alan, my mom and I flew from LAX to Rome we watched a movie called RANDOM HEARTS.   We really enjoyed it.  Harrison Ford and Kristin Scott Thomas are great together in this romantic drama.  It was directed by Sydney Pollack (who lived near us when we were living in Pacific Palisades).  He waved to us a couple of times during morning walks.  The film starred Harrison Ford and Kristin Scott Thomas and was based on the 1984 novel by Warren Adler.  It is about a police officer and a Congresswoman who discover that their spouses were having an affair prior to being killed in an air disaster. 

Our Italian journey began on a cool Sunday evening, October 10, 1999, at the Bradley Terminal at LAX. As we waited for our flight, we set the tone for the trip with four gigantic Cobb salads at the Daily Grill—far more than we could possibly finish. After a nine-and-a-half-hour Air France flight to Paris and a connecting hop to Rome, we arrived bleary-eyed, hungry, and stiff from those airline seats that seemed designed to test one’s willpower. 

Arrival in Rome – October 11 

When we finally landed in Rome around 5:40 PM European time, the excitement washed over us. My luggage came out quickly—thankfully, since the taxi driver seemed determined to “rip us off” with his fee. We drove through the beautiful Borghese section of Rome to our charming hideaway, the Hotel Lord Byron, where Virginia and Gloria shared a spacious room with “comfy” beds. 

But there was no time to rest; dinner awaited. The concierge sent us to a local favorite, Ristorante Ambasciata d’Abruzzo. We strolled through the streets, soaking in Rome’s magic, before settling into a meal of antipasti, fish, and delicious wine. By the time we walked back to the hotel, our two days of travel caught up with us, and we collapsed into bed. The weather was perfect, matching Alan’s five-day forecast predictions. 

The Vatican & Roman Wonders – October 12 

We all awoke refreshed at 7:10 AM. Breakfast was a feast: cappuccinos, salami, and warm bread. I even practiced Italian with the waiters as I was eager to learn. 

Our first destination was The Vatican. A taxi whisked us there, and as we walked through the museum toward the Sistine Chapel, we rented audio guides that enriched the experience. I marveled at Saint Peter’s Basilica, wishing we could stay there for days. 

Lunch was in a hidden Roman café, where the homemade fettuccini rivaled anything, I’d ever tasted. Afterwards, we explored the Roman Forum, listening to stories of ancient Rome through our audio guides. 

Later, I suggested we try the subway like the locals do—a chaotic but thrilling adventure that ended at the Spanish Steps, where we wandered among designer boutiques and crowds of people. Before leaving Rome, I caught a snapshot of Gloria, looking better than one of those Italian portrait paintings. 

By evening, we dined at Orso, where I happily filled up on antipasti.  After dinner, we visited the Pantheon, Piazza Navona, and the Trevi Fountain, its waters shimmering under the Roman night sky. Finding a taxi at 11 PM was no small feat, but patience prevailed. 

The Road to Positano – October 13 

The next morning, we savored a final breakfast at the hotel before tackling the Hertz rental car ordeal. The taxi driver tried to overcharge us again—this time for refusing to drive into the parking lot! With a bit of maneuvering, we packed our luggage into a roomy Opel and headed south. 

Photo: Mom and I in POSITANO, Italy

We stopped at an AutoGrill, discovering that even highway food in Italy could be ‘delicioso’. The RUSTICA sandwiches were unlike anything I’d ever eaten on a road trip. 
The drive to Positano was breathtaking and terrifying, with narrow cliffside roads and moments where only one car could pass. At last, we reached Le Sirenuse, our luxurious hotel perched high above the sea. The view left us speechless. 

Dinner that evening at La Sponda, serenaded by a guitarist playing As Time Goes By, was magical. We toasted to our journey with milk chocolate, snacks from the AutoGrill, and plans for the next day. 

Island of Capri – October 14 

The day began with excitement as Alan and I woke up early, announcing a spontaneous trip to Capri. After a beautiful breakfast overlooking the Mediterranean, we boarded a boat to the island. 

At the Blue Grotto, we faced a surprising challenge: we had to transfer into a tiny rowboat to enter the glowing cave. The experience was breathtaking yet harrowing.  I fell or slipped a bit while I was being helped onto the raft-like boat, cutting myself slightly. Inside, the turquoise light was like something out of a dream.  We were all laughing so hard because we didn’t expect to transfer from the boat to a raft.  The Blue Grotto water looked like holy water to me, so I poured that water on my wound.  My skinned lower leg felt a sting (not good), so the coolness of the water felt reassuring.  I figured the water would help me heal faster. 

Back on shore, we explored Capri, shopped for souvenirs, and lunched at a glamorous five-star hotel. As the day ended, we returned to Positano, still laughing over the wild Blue Grotto adventure. That evening, dinner at La Sponda was once again exceptional, though Alan fumed over $15 desserts and the endless upselling of mineral water. 

Amalfi Coast & Ravello – October 15 

Virginia and Gloria awoke on their own and enjoyed breakfast with a dramatic ocean view. Later, we drove along the stunning Amalfi Coast to Ravello.  The views were so magnificent. I bought fresh fruit at a local market, and we returned to Positano for a relaxing tea service at Le Sirenuse. 

Dinner that night was at Da Vicenzo Ristorante, a cozy spot recommended by the concierge. We met locals and travelers, including an artist who claimed to have painted thousands of works, including portraits of Picasso and Andy Warhol. 

Florence Bound – October 16 

The next morning, we packed our car for the drive to Florence, with a planned stop at the Prada Outlet. Navigating the backroads and confusing signs was a challenge, but eventually, we arrived. After waiting in line, we shopped to our hearts’ content: handbags, shoes, cool clothes and gifts galore. 

By 4:30 PM, we reached the Grand Hotel, settling into our elegant suites. Alan went to the Internet café to check on a Los Angeles earthquake he’d heard about, while we prepared for dinner. 

Florence Adventures – October 17 

We began the day with breakfast before strolling along the Arno River, visiting the Duomo, and marveling at the Ponte Vecchio Bridge. The Uffizi Museum was too crowded, so we explored the streets, shopped for sweaters, and sampled local pizza.  I figured I’d go to the Uffizi Museum on a separate trip soon.  

In the evening, Alan and I discovered a free violin concert nearby. Before attending, we stopped at a bar for white wine and peach schnapps. The concert was enchanting, but we escaped without being noticed just in time for our dinner reservation.

Dinner was delicious—Alan and I shared a Florentine steak, while Gloria and mom savored vegetarian plates. 

Milan Finale – October 18 

We left Florence early, stopping at another AutoGrill on our way to Milan. Rain accompanied us as we navigated narrow streets with the help of my maps. Our final hotel, The Palace, was regal and elegant. 

Dinner that night was a feast: risotto, pasta, bruschetta, and the highlight—veal Milanese. It was the perfect finale to our culinary journey. 

As we prepared to leave Italy, Alan negotiated parking with the hotel doorman—5,000 lire solved everything. With a final toast, we said, “Arrivederci, Italy.”   We fly to Madrid, Spain next. 

It was always better to say less.  “In the meantime, you can’t let your head become empty.” --Min Jin Lee, in his book PACHINKO 

‘Every life contains many millions of decisions.  Those choices lead to different outcomes.  If you had done one thing differently you would have a different life story.’--Matt Haig, in his book, THE MIDNIGHT LIBRARY 

Monica Small who is now married to her new Christian husband is living in Saint Louis, Missouri.  That’s a place I’ve never been (nor do I have much desire to do so).  She sent an artsy postcard of “Lilly Anne and the Fish Parade” by Joe Sorren: 

Hi Michael and Alan, 

Thanks again for the postcard from the Golden Door.  What a nice reminder of the upcoming change from Summer to Fall.  I’m already seeing a lot of things I want to photoshoot. 

Love, 

Moni 

Monday, October 4, 1999 

This is a photo of Alan Neil Freeman. He was born on April Fool’s Day 1952. He’s no fool though. He’s left-handed which means he actively uses the side of his brain others don’t. 
Alan and I met on Nov. 20, 1989. We will be a couple for 10 years next month! On our anniversary we will be in Paris, France. He’s such a good planner. He knows how to make me happy. I love it when I wake up in the morning and he says, I have an idea. 

Photo: Alan Neil Freiman

Even if the idea is something as simple as going to Peet’s Coffee for a latte cappuccino & slice of banana nut bread. When he has an idea, it always pertains to us doing something worthwhile. Alan makes my life exciting. I make Alan’s life exciting. We feed off each other. I learn from him. He learns from me. 

We crave knowing the latest business craze or the newest internet idea. Most important is that we make each other laugh & share a sense of humor. He’s sensitive. I’m sensitive. We have more excitement ahead of us with the New York City Tribeca loft being available soon. It will add another dimension to our life. 

Alan and I are even running a business together now: Verona Capital Management — named after a city in Italy we both love & experienced in October 1998. Alan is my significant other. If I hadn’t moved to Los Angeles from Northern California in Nov. 1989 our paths may not have crossed. We are lucky… luckier than most. I must keep reminding myself of that fact! 

This is a photo of my mother, Virginia Marie Armijo, at age sixteen. In this photo I see a sweet, innocent schoolgirl from a very smalltown (Cerrillos, New Mexico.). She was born on Sept. 6, 1935. Growing up, she was more of a mother to me. I always saw my mom as a friend. She’s still my friend. I love her very much. She knows I love her. She loves me. 

Photo: Mom, Virginia Marie Lucero-Armijo

I just had a flashback of the trip I took her on in New York City. We took the horse carriage ride around Central Park. For a smalltown girl from Cerrillos, NM, I’m sure New York City was an eye-opener for her. We had such a great time on that trip. 

Now — Alan, my mother + Alan’s mother, Gloria Weiner Freeman Cohen depart on Oct. 16th (THIS MONTH!) for a wonderful European trip to Italy + Spain. My mother’s knowledge of Spanish will come in handy (I hope).  I know the dialects make a difference. 

I call my mom almost every day. She married my dad, Joe Nelson Armijo, on June 15, 1957. My father died on 8-29-1987. They were married 30 years. I know she misses him, but she still has me, her son + friend. She’s also got my brothers. She’s got 6 grandchildren. She’s really a lucky woman in her own right. 

When I see her 16-year-old smile in this photo + the gleam in her eye — I can see her today at age 64 with the same smile + the same gleam in the eye. No, she’s not perfect. There’s that New Mexico Lucero — stubborn factor. If she has a point of view — good luck changing her mind unless you use some gentle, loving persuasion. 

October 5, 1999 

My cousin, Mary Ann in Colorado Springs sent me this card with the gorgeous autumn leaves. In this card she reveals why she likes me. 

Mary Ann surprises me. I didn’t even remember this book — but I apparently sent Mary Ann a book for her birthday in Nov. 1998 called Finding Flow by Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi about The Psychology of Engagement with Everyday Life. Then, she recently sent the book back to me with this yellow stick-’em note. 

Well, I just finished the book. I highlighted the lines that impacted me: 

“To live: it must mean to live in fullness, without waste of time and potential, expressing one’s uniqueness, yet participating intimately in the complexity of the cosmos.” 

“What makes a life… serene, useful + worth living? The actual quality of life — what we do, and how we feel about it — will be determined by our thoughts and emotions; by the interpretations we give to chemical, biological, and social processes.” 

Whether we like it or not, each of us is constrained by limits on what we can do and feel. To achieve excellence, we must first understand the reality of the everyday with all its demands + potential frustrations. 

Give and take a few hours, most people sleep 1/3 of the day, and use the remainder to work, travel + rest in the same proportions as baboons do. 

“Like the rest of us, he must pull his trousers on one leg at a time.” 

Thus the limitations on attention, which determines the amount of psychic energy we have for experiencing the world, provide an inflexible script for us to live by. 

How a person lives depends in large part on sex, age, + social position. So while the main parameters of life are fixed, & no person can avoid resting, eating, + at least some work, humanity categorizes that determine to a content of experience. 

This is a lot to take in all at once, but she didn’t stop.  Here are more key points she had to share about FINDING FLOW:  

The Joy of Solving Problems 

Inspired by Frank Offener: “If I can solve it, it is fun. Isn’t solving problems what makes life interesting?” 

Life is about embracing challenges rather than avoiding them. 

Attention, Control, and Flow 

The crucial skill is learning to control attention. 

The activity itself—not the outcome—matters most. 

Flow comes when we focus deeply on what we do. 

Common Good and Commitments 

A good life requires working for the common good, appreciating religion, art, and ineffable aspects of life. 

Modern danger: people are so enamored with themselves that they avoid commitments. 

Commitment and responsibility to humankind give life meaning. 

The Problems with Jobs 

Jobs are often resented because: 

They feel pointless. 

They are boring and lack variety. 

They are stressful, undermining flow. 

Successful people manage attention by prioritizing, delegating, and tackling tasks strategically. 

Relationships as a Source of Meaning 

Alongside work, relationships shape the quality of life. 

Balance is needed between the rewards of work and those of relationships. 

“A genuine flow of conversation is one of the highlights of existence.” 

Happiness and Growth 

It’s not enough just to be happy; the goal is to be happy while stretching our skills, fulfilling our potential, and doing excellent work. 

Amor Fati – Love of Fate 

Accept ownership of one’s actions, even when imposed from outside. 

Learn to love even the difficulties—this shapes resilience and wisdom. 

“Our actions reverberate through time and shape the evolving future.” 

Reflection and Self-Knowledge 

Reflection is vital but must be skillful; otherwise, it worsens problems instead of solving them. 

Develop the habit of reflection on life with an upbeat, forward-looking mood. 

Self-knowledge allows us to transform ego into a helper and ally. 

Building a Fulfilled Life 

Act as if the future of the universe depends on your choices—even if they seem small. 

The self can become a rock upon which to build a fulfilling life. 

Creativity and self-awareness are essential for a purposeful existence. 

Final Emphasis 

The formula for greatness is Amor Fati—to not only endure what life brings, but to love it. 

“If I want to learn more about those who make things beautiful, then I must learn to see as beautiful what is necessary.” 

Cousin MaryAnn Montoya-Gehling also sent an email to me and Cousin Linda in Idaho.  In a nutshell these are the key points she shared.  She was writing from home after a spur-of-the-moment trip to the GARDEN OF THE GODS with “Honey” (that’s what she calls her husband:  

The visit: Gorgeous fall day.  We walked the trails, revisited the old pavilion site, and noticed new park signage that echoed wording from our book about “if these rocks could speak”—flattering, if a bit like uncredited borrowing. 

Signature Rock: They re-found the name W. Rice and reflected on family pioneer history. 

Phoebe Hart Wells: Tender remembrance of their dear friend (granddaughter of “Fatty” Rice)—her help with photos, her quiet strength while ill, and her recent passing; sorrow at not seeing her one last time. 

Visitor Center stop: Quick check on their book and displays; warm welcome from staff (Rob) who announced, “The Gehling's are here!” — She and “honey” helped correctly place Phoebe’s family photo. 

Home slice: A nearly scorched roast salvaged; drop-in visit from MaryAnn’s sisters: Dottie & Jean returning from the Pueblo Chile festival with pink baby gifts. 

Family news: Megan’s birth planned for an induced labor (induction so mother, Rosemary, can have pain relief after stopping a blood thinner). Everyone’s betting on her looks; there are hopes for a redheaded, gray-eyed baby to round out the family palette. 

I received a postcard of MAZZARO from 1924, a watercolor by Paul Klee that is held at the San Francisco Museum of Art.  It was sent to me from Barbara Reynolds: 

Michael, 

I don’t remember ever seeing this “KLEE” before.  You know that Klee is the first artist that I remember.  I saw his work at an old UC Berkeley Museum probably in the 1960s.   

It’s a heat wave, nice for earing dresses.  I’m glad I have a ceiling fan.  Thanks to David for his encouragement.   

We had a fire drill at work at 370 3rd Street yesterday afternoon.  The whole building met at Yerba Buena Park.  Have you been there yet?  Knowing it would take a while for ren-entry to the building.  I dashed to the Museum of Modern Art bookstore looking for postcards.  What a delight that I found this one. 

Yeah, my cousin Rosie will be stopping at my place on October 18th and 19th with her friend, Joanna, en route from Southhampton England to Kauai, Hawaii.  I hope this is clear.  I absolutely love the jerky bus rides to work, now the vies of the bay are delightful. 

Love, 

Barbara 

10/6/99 

I’m going to a wedding in Santa Clara, CA with my mom on Friday, October 8th.  It’s for Dean Edward Gonzales and his fiancé, Renee.  Dean’s mom, Margaret A Espinosa-Gonzales is mom’s cousin.  I was just on the phone with mom and said, “We’ll just make the best of it.”  Edward Spinosa and his sisters Mabel and Margaret will be there so that’ll make it more fun.  

Alan wrote a postcard for me today: 

10/6/99 

Dear Michael, 

I don’t know how to tell you this, so I’ll just come out with it.  You’re the only one in the world I could have two breakfasts with and not be bored.  You never disappoint me with any lack of excitement as I do feel weak today.  

I should nap later.  Hopefully, you will nap with me, and we could have a little ‘romance’.  I’ll miss you when you go to the wedding, but I’ll be studying hard for the Series 7 test.  Next week at this time we will be in Rome! 

Love, 

Alan 

October 6, 1999, Wednesday 

Alan and I just had an argument. I asked him to take care of a single task regarding a lead we received in the Pasadena area. He was slow to react. The prospect wanted our website and didn’t leave the telephone number. It took me to call 411 to acquire the telephone # and make the call. Alan did come up with the idea to call Gloria to have our 3-page website informational faxed to the prospect. Alan was resentful of the way I spoke to him regarding this entire issue. He wanted an apology from me. Instead, I read him excerpts of the previous 4 pages about Flow & the Psychology of Everyday Life. 

Now, he just came out of the shower and asked if I wanted to make up. I said, “Yes.” We shook hands as our hands were held. He brought up negativity by suggesting that we should (perhaps) not be in business together if it was going to affect our personal happiness. Maybe he’s right… maybe we should be independent of each other when it comes to work. I just feel he’s not contributing or sharing in the work, and I don’t think it’s fair. He’s studying for his Securities exam again. 

Soon we will depart for a steak at The Palm in Beverly Hills with Jack & Gloria, and then we will move on to see SUNSET BLVD, starring Petula Clark. Hopefully tonight’s entertainment will smooth things over for us. After all, we have been together 24/7 lately. If we weren’t at each other’s throats occasionally, something would be wrong. 

I called George Rego today—just realizing that it was his 67th birthday. He’s so nice. He always says he loves me. Good ol’ Uncle George. I need to make him some money again. 

October 10, 1999, 5am Pacific Time 

Alan, Gloria, my mom & I are in flight, almost ready to land in Paris—it’s about 2pm Paris time right now. 

My eyes feel weary. I probably slept less than 30 minutes during this 10-hour flight. 

The stretching exercises & excess water drinking helped. Once we arrive in Paris—at the airport—maybe we’ll find a good pain au chocolat before we must get on the plane again for the additional 1 hour or so to Rome, Italy. 

I plan to take a chronology of photos on this trip. Hey—I need to take one of us on the plane now… time to get the camera in the transport bag. 

‘Look at that chess board we put back in place.  Look at how ordered, safe, peaceful it all looks now, before a game starts.  It’s a beautiful thing.  But it is boring.  It is dead.  And yet, the moment you make a move on that board, things change.’  In CHESS, as in LIFE, possibility is the basis of everything! --Matt Haig, in his book THE MIDNIGHT LIBRARY 

 

  

“To me it is far more important to know where you really are than where you hope to go someday, for the way your life is constituted it is certain that you, more than anyone else, will always wind up some other place than where you wanted to get.”--Gershom Scholem, as read in his book, WALTER BENJAMIN, The Story of a Friendship 

I just came from Nate n’ Al’s with Alan, Gloria and Jack.  Alan is now at the computer studying for his Series 7 Test that he will be taking in Glendale, CA on October 8th.  Alan is trying to give me assignments like plan the itinerary for our trip to Italy and Madrid.  What he doesn’t realize is that I already spent hours doing a portion of the itinerary and he hasn’t even looked at what I’ve come up with so far.  Whatever.  It’s nerve-racking.  There are other things I want to do.   

I just finished a book called NIGHTSWIMMER the other night.  I am currently reading the book called FINDING FLOW by Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi (try pronouncing that one!). It’s a book about the Psychology of Engagement with Everyday Life.  I find it quite fascinating to read.  It reminds me that the quality of one’s life is ONE’S OWN CHOICE.  We have our productive maintenance and leisure activities.  FINDING FLOW as I am finding is the culmination and exhilaration of one’s FAVORITE activities.  I think some of my ways of FINDING FLOW are through running, the gym, reading and writing.  I really believe those are MY FANTASTIC FOUR favorite activities.  Oh yes, the combination of listening to music while running or doing exercise adds some zest to my activities. 

Since September 20th when I last wrote in here, I’ve seen a few more movies.  While I enjoy movies as a leisure activity I’ve come to find more flow in my life by exercising, reading and writing.  I suppose I cannot ignore my love for creating (as in painting and ink drawings).  It’s calming therapy.  Movies and TV add an element ‘at the time of experiencing them’.  In a week or so the movie or TV show is long gone and, in many cases, ‘forgotten’.  I’m finding that when I read or write I CONCENTRATE more and learn new things.  I increase my vocabulary and gain new insight from my own personal perspective.  When I exercise (run/gym) I gradually FEEL and SEE the results from changed improvements in my body.  This is ideal and it makes me feel more alert and better about myself.  

When Alan and I went to see the movie GUINIVERE at the Writer’s Guild we invited Linda Rubin to sit with Alan and I as she was there (it was a LAFTA event).  She, in fact, got me enrolled as a LAFTA (LA Faculty and Teachers Association).  I don’t think Alan can stand her at times.  I’d say he despises Linda because some of her traits and characteristics are things that he abhors in himself.  I get that.  She is cheap and likes to brag about her accomplishments in making money in the stock market or whatever.  I admit she can be overbearing but she is uniquely intelligent.  She just doesn’t know when to keep her mouth shut.  

We saw STILL BREATHING, a movie we watched at home via video.  It was a romantic story with two of my favorite stars: Brendan Fraser and Joanna Going.  It’s one of those ‘fate meant for us to be together’ romance stories that often sweeps me away. 

Last night, Alan picked a film called ROMANCE.  We went with Jack and Gloria to the theaters to see it.  Boy oh boy...it was an ‘eye opener’ in terms of explicit sex, fantasy and full-frontal nudity.  It was amazing, a tad uncomfortable watching with Alan’s mom and stepdad but we’re all grown-ups, right?  It was a bit too explicit for me but it’s worthing seeing ONLY ONCE.  

One evening last week, Alan, Jack, Gloria and I attended the University of Judaism for a lecture and multi-media presentation about the survivors of the VOYAGE OF ST. LOUIS (On May 13, 1939 more than 900 Jewish refugees fled Nazi Germany by leaving Hamburg, sailing toward what they thought would be a safe haven.  This is the story of their ill-fated odyssey).  It was truly fascinating and sad.  It struck me how important family really is and how we ALL tend to forget this.  Maintaining contact with one’s family with an occasional phone call, email, postcard, Holiday greeting is important.  I’m fortunate to be reasonably connected to family mores than most.  I believe that I am. 

On October 1st Alan and I took our client, Bill Willcox to lunch.  He is currently our biggest client with almost $2.5 Million in assets.  It’s sad because he has children and they don’t seem to care much about him.  Bill says, “I never hear from children.  They live in Lake Tahoe and other places that escape me.”  When he was my client at Charles Schwab & Co. I always felt he wished he was the son he had.  He never told me that in those exact words, but one can sense these things.  Bill is an example of a man in his seventies who is lonely and has no family to speak of.  I remember his eyes watering when he and I spoke about his wife who had died about five years ago.  He has recently seemed to find interest in his retired nurse neighbor, Mary.  It seems they are going on a five-day trip to Sedona, Arizona.  Alan and I were glad to hear that he was taking this trip.  

The night of October 1st Alan and I went to Susan’s house (Alan’s ex-wife) as we were invited to a 50th Birthday party for her friend Ilene Straus.  Her father was there, and he told us, “I’m very lucky that my five children always like having me around.”  It was just the opposite of what Bill Willcox had told me.  What a contrast in families.  Then again, Ilene’s father seems more personable and social.  With Bill it is tough making conversation with him at times.  He has a back condition and goes to a chiropractor two times a week and an acupuncturist.  Like Alan said, “Bill doesn’t care about his money.  At this point, HEALTH is key for him—just being able to wake up and live each day.”  This was a profound statement by Alan.  I’m not so sure Bill knows how to enjoy his money.  I think the best way to enjoy money is to spend it on activities that create memories—even if it is as simple as packing a lunch and taking it to the beach shoreline to eat it and people watch, perhaps have a bit of conversation, play frisbee or simply read a Vanity Fair or Businessweek magazine.  I also believe in giving and seeing the joy and smile the receiver feels.  This is rewarding. 

3:30 PM, Sunday, Oct. 3, 1999 

I just wrote several cards to some people who continue to maintain such good contact with me. They are: 

Marie Antoinette Anaya  

Barbara Reynolds 

Monica Small Rady 

Reed & Deanna Campbell 

Edna Maestas de Garcia 

Paloma Alquier 

Notice—cards and letters from these special people are in this scrapbook off and on. They’re too sweet to keep me updated the way they do—and vice versa.  

Time for veggies on the roof. 

Here is what I wrote to PALOMA: 

3:00, Sunday Afternoon – October 3, 1999 

Dear Paloma, 

I saw another French film last night. WOW! It was very explicit with sex fantasies and frontal nudity. Have you seen it? The girl reminded me of you, knowing how sexual you are. How come you never asked me to tie you up? Only kidding, of course! It sure is the talk of L.A. + N.Y. this weekend though: ROMANCE. 

How are you, Alexandre – Jonathan? I was looking at a photo taken in 1996 by Luis of me, you, your dad, your stepmom + Luis’ girlfriend, Bernadette, at that time… Memories.  Does Bernadette still live on the Seychelle islands? 

What are you up to? As you know, we will be leaving Oct. 10th for Rome… then to Positano from 10–13 to 10–15, Florence 10–16 + 17, Milan 10–18 + 19 + then MADRID 10/20–10/24. Too bad you won’t be visiting your dad during that time… You could’ve gone to dinner with us + a show or something. Maybe the next time. 

Oh—here’s a postcard of that movie Romance. I sure would not call it a romantic film though—ha-ha. It was quite surprising to me—I am still thinking about it. Does that mean it was a good movie? Ha-ha 

Not much else is going on. We’re trying to keep our existing clients happy + trying to find new clients… maybe we will find a new client in Italy or Spain… You never know! 

Your e-mail doesn’t seem too responsive. Why don’t you e-mail me again at: ARMIJO59@HOTMAIL.COM. Perhaps I don’t have the correct one for you. 

It’s time to go on the roof for a veggie snack. I already went running today—so that’s good. 

Guess what! Halloween is right around the corner again! Our anniversary. When are you going to Vegas again? I guess it’s not easy with Jonathan in school now, etc. 

Thinking of you— 

Love, 
Michael Armijo 

 

11:40 AM, October 4, 1999 

I just rapidly went through my e-mail at home. My cousin Mary Ann Gehling is still at it. I think she’s obsessed and in awe of me. I have been e-mailing her about my runs (every other day) and my pelican sightings. 

She told me she looked in the encyclopedia for pelicans because she’s never seen one. I must be adding to her life in some ways. I’m happy about that though. I like when she writes to me, but she gets on my nerves when she rants and raves about my sharing my emotions and feelings. I think I do—but she’s never satisfied. 

She’s a strange woman in many ways. I’ll just take it in stride. At least she maintains contact. 

 Alan read in the NY Post last night that Jean-Georges, the ultra-famous French chef in Manhattan, bought a loft at 66 Leonard! He’ll be our neighbor—and rumor has it that he may open a new restaurant on the ground floor of the Textile Building. That would be so cool! 

I wonder who bought the $7 million penthouse though. 

I feel behind the times without a photo scanner! 

I received a few photos from Monica Small Rady today from Missouri. I love the shot of her dog, Sinbad. It’s something I must do. 

Last night I checked my Yahoo Auctions & found that someone won the 16 Dark Shadows paperbacks I own for $77.50. I e-mailed the winner but haven’t got a response yet. So, we’ll see how well this auction pans out. 

I was trying to sell one of my collectibles (Portrait in Taffeta Barbie) for $15 but no one is bidding. 

Today, Mattel stock is down 4 points to $12.875. Thank God I sold my shares at 39 or so a couple of years ago. The CEO, Jill Barad, certainly has her days numbered. It looks like little girls have moved on from Barbie to MTV + NSYNC. Fads change. 

Alan & I are getting a bit more into the TV scene this season. We like HBO’s Sex and the City and ABC’s Snoops and The Practice. I like WB’s Felicity. These TV shows are even better than a lot of movies showing out there! 

I’m getting aggravated because Alan is studying for the Series 7, and he just falsely accused me of monopolizing the computer. He’s such an ass sometimes!  I said I was going to the gym alone, and he thinks I’m “abandoning” him and adding to his stress and anxiety about having to take the test this Friday.  Well, I’m letting him study, and I’ve been telling him to study more. If anything, I deserve credit for that. 

 I ordered a couple of CDs on MP3 from two artists that I never found. It cost me $16—but I got one CD with Amsterdam German flavor and one from Denmark by young groups that sound like NSYNC & Boyzone. So, I’m excited about getting those. 

In addition, I ordered an 80’s compilation of tunes from CDNow, which included the song called Just A Gigolo—an old tune I used to hear during my long middle-bike riding days. That song made me accelerate. It is so upbeat. I love it.  It’s by a group called BARBIE AND THE KENS. 

I subscribed to a year of The Financial Times Weekender, and I haven’t received one issue yet! Unbelievable. I’ve spoken to Allison, Kim & Deanna—checking with their distributor. Of course, I’ll be in Italy + Spain soon—so let’s see if they can get it right this time. 

My cousin Mary Ann Gehling is now a grandma for the 4th time. She has 3 grandsons and now a granddaughter, Megan Rose. 

Sometimes I feel like I’d like to have a child. Actually, I do have one. The sperm donation in 1985 with the Bay Area Sperm Bank in Oakland, California was successful in impregnating a woman. I do have a child somewhere and I know it was a girl born around August 1985. 

I’m fortunate because Alan’s daughters Lauren & Carrie are like my girls. And my brother’s kids are like my own too. I really have nothing to cry about, do I?  I have kids in my life.   

My cousin Patrick Markus (Cecelia’s son) bought a new house in Cave Creek, Arizona. I sent them a little journal/house book of sorts from Felissimo in NYC. They sent me this thank-you card of acknowledgment. Although I don’t see many of my cousins frequently, I feel it’s the right thing to do to maintain at least “a thread” of contact now and then.  I’m so happy replied. 

Now, the Garcia Reunion 2000 is still a possibility come August 2000. I wrote Edna Maestas in Santa Fe a few of my ideas yesterday. Let’s see what kind of input she’ll offer. 

Photo: My New Journal book gift from Lauren and Carrie

I’d like to have a party in Las Vegas, NM, on a Friday; a potluck picnic on Saturday at Murphy Lake; and a Sunday tour of the town of Mora, New Mexico. This way, there will be 3 events to participate in.  It’s not an easy event to navigate. 

I just referred to my first page of this new Memoir Journal scrapbook. It was June 3, 1999. It’s been almost exactly four months of thoughts, pictures, feelings, letters, cards & other memorabilia.  I’m having fun with this. I’ll be able to start my next book soon. My next book was gifted to me from Lauren & Carrie. They knew that I’d write in it & I will. 

Someday, I will read & look back at all these entries. I hope I will laugh & maybe even cry. All I know is—the details to this fun book and future books are who I am & what I care about.  And—to whomever takes the time to read through all of this—I have a message for you: God bless you for caring & taking an interest in my life. We all go through stresses & hurdles in life. I hope my notes here add sparks & awakenings to someone searching… like I am continuously searching. 

‘Fixed meditation may do a great deal towards defining our longing or dread.  We are NOT always in a state of strong emotion, and when we are calm, we can use our memories and gradually change the bias of our fear, as we do our tastes...like VISION.” --George Eliot, DANIEL DERONDA