“A fight is going on inside me,” he said to the boy.  “It is a terrible fight between two wolves.  One is EVIL—he is hatred, anger, greed, envy, arrogance, grudge, resentment, miserliness, and cowardliness.  The other is GOOD—he is happiness, joy, serenity, love, kindness, compassion, hope, humility, generosity, truthfulness and confidence.  They are also fighting inside you and inside every other person, too.” --An Old Cherokee Giving Advice to His Grandson, as read in ALTRUISM by Matthieu Ricard 

Here are some flashbacks from July 1999 that I neglected to mention: 

I received this email from my cousin, MaryAnn Montoya-Gehling (July 17, 1999), here are the key points.  
A letter I’ve read several times now. MaryAnn wrote to me at 2:29am. It was raw, honest. A reflection about confusing me with her deceased brother, Dave, and never really accepting me as me. She wrote: 

“You are Michael and Dave is dead. I have to face that… 
And so, Michael Joe Armijo, I am giving you something priceless. I am taking Dave away and giving you back yourself.” 

The words hurt. But they also healed. There’s freedom in being seen clearly. 

I received another email from my Cousin Paul Vigil who lives in Arizona (July 18, 1999): 
A different kind of message. Kind, familial. 

“I wanted to let you know how much fun my family and I had [at the reunion] … Keep me posted on the next one.” 
Simple, sweet, grounding. Sometimes connection just lives in shared bloodlines and old jokes. 

On July 28th, Alan and I attended a unique musical called WHEN PIGS FLY.  Seeing it in Los Angeles, just a few years after its New York debut—meant you witnessed a piece of theatre that blended activism, art, and outrageous humor.  It was more than a musical revue; it was a glittery statement of self-worth and a standing ovation to the underdog spirit. 

WHEN PIGS FLY was a celebration of queer identity and camp glamour.  This revue is deeply rooted in LGBTQ+ culture, brimming with flamboyance, sequins, drag, satire, and wit.  The title itself is a playful jab at the idea that someone like Howard Crabtree—a gay man with dreams of outrageous theatrical success—could “make it” in mainstream entertainment.  It’s a defiant celebration of not just making it--but doing so with sparkle and laughter.  

Rather than a single plot, it’s a revue composed of skits, songs, and outrageous numbers. Each segment pokes fun at cultural expectations, gay stereotypes, self-doubt, and the longing for acceptance and fabulousness.  I liked the song “Laughing Matters” – A poignant, introspective ballad reminding us that laughter can be a form of survival. 

I’ve been doing my best to stay consistent—physically, emotionally, spiritually. This week felt like a collage of movement and memory. Like a postcard half-written in my mind, waiting to be mailed to a future version of myself. 

8/10/99 – THE SIXTH SENSE & the Gym of Life 

Alan and I made it to the gym. Discipline and routine feels good lately—we’ve been on a mission to stay active and strong. On this night, we saw The Sixth Sense. Mysterious, haunting, and cleverly told, it stayed with us. I won’t ruin the twist, but let’s just say... we didn’t see it coming. 

8/11/99 – A Call from the Past 
Helen Settle, a former client, called. She misses me and says she needs me again. Will she become a Verona client? Time will tell. Alan and I did both a run and a hike today. That evening, we dined with Gloria and Jack at Pane Vino in West Hollywood. Gloria is always a riot—her laughter is medicine. 

8/12/99 – The Layers Underneath 
I journaled today, more intentionally than usual. Alan and I had dinner at Susan’s with Mady, who’s still visiting from New York. She’s full of insight and energy. Earlier in the day, Alan and I talked over coffee in Marina del Rey—he noticed the Tom Cruise magazine clipping in my journal and smirked, “I like that picture.” I don’t care for Tom much.  Maybe I’m just jealous because Alan likes him.  I just think his entire Church of Scientology obsession is absurd.  

I’ve been committed to my ABS daily and cardio routine. We’re both feeling and looking better. Small wins matter. 

8/13/99 – A Hike, A Movie, A Frame 

Alan and I started the day with a beach run. Later, we hiked with Susan and Mady through Temescal Canyon. That afternoon, we grabbed lunch at The Ivy—always a hotspot for potential Verona clients. I picked up two newly framed collage pieces from Aaron Brothers—my 20th Century Men and 20th Century Women series. I love how they turned out. The 20th Century Men version includes a photo of 'me' and of 'Alan'.  

That night, Alan and I cozied up with The Jackal. Another thriller. Another plot worth unwinding. 

8/14/99 – Cleaning House, Literally 
It was a Saturday of purposeful routines: we hit the gym, then visited the Pacific Design Center as per Dan Cuevas’s advice. Ho-hum, but productive. We started an “operation cleanup” on the downstairs of our Marina del Rey house. Not just spring cleaning—autumn cleaning is a thing now. 

That night’s feature: The Thomas Crown Affair. Pierce Brosnan. René Russo. And yes, people still occasionally say I resemble Brosnan. I don’t mind. The film was stylish and smart—art heist meets sexual tension. The kind of movie that’s both polished and seductive. 

8/15/99 – What Breaks & What Holds 
My morning run was a success. My mom left for Vegas with her sisters and brothers—Betty, Raymond, Arthur—all off to the neon pulse of sin city. 

I received news that my sister-in-law, Helen, in Reno may be heading toward divorce. My brother, Tony, wants out after falling head over heels with a divorcee in his office named Linda. I felt a pang of sadness—for Helen, for the end of something. I called her immediately, left a message. Some endings still feel personal even when you’re not involved. 

That night, Alan and I didn’t attend the birthday party for Alan’s cousin in NYC—but we made it up to him with dinner at one of the best restaurants in the city: The Gotham Bar & Grill. Sometimes love is shown by being present, even if not on the original date. 

8/16/99 – Floors, Postcards, and REITs 

A German man known as “Reinhardt the Floorman” arrived at 8am to assess our hardwood floors. We’re considering re-sanding.

Meanwhile, a postcard arrived from Barbara Reynolds—musicians in illustrated glory. Her message was gentle, filled with news of transition. She wrote: 

"I think I’ll be gone for the weekend… I need some beach time.” 

We all do. 

Also today, I began drafting a REIT/Bond/Passive Income plan for myself and my clients. The kind of plan that might hold steady even as emotions fluctuate. 

‘He raised her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingers one by one, which always gave her the chills.’--Charles Baxter, in his book THERE’S SOMETHING I WANT YOU TO DO