Blood in my coffee and the nation of thieves.

(WARNING. Explicit content. NSFW)

There is blood in my coffee.
I bought it, made it, and stared at it for an hour.

It made me think, that if you are trained in a belief your entire life, and meet nothing that shatters your perceptions enough to change that belief, that you are a slave, regardless of your money, wealth, power, or privilege.
I notice that even the mention of this, makes a lot of people who are privileged, and content in their status, nervous, hostile or cry foul, which is a vast irony since ethically, someone knowingly or unknowingly killing another, should not be in a position to cry foul as they do so.
I am killing someone today with this coffee.
Seriously. Somewhere on the Borders between two coffee producing regions, someone got their brains blown out for this very coffee I am drinking. And that’s just the start of it.

I was raised in the west. This shall always affect my outlook, my thought process, and my ideology. It is a lens through which I see other things.

I was raised in a national culture where every single thing of merit is historically whitewashed and attributed to white people, (of over a dozen different cultures. there is no “one white people”) where all history is slanted in favor of the winners, because winners always write the history.

Where hatred, arrogance, and fear is a large part of European Judeo-Christian Culture and systemic western philosophical thought, I openly question so-called western “history”, find that a large part of it’s “science” is actually African, Asian, Middle eastern, and indigenous of origin, and I laugh at it’s so-called “Democracy” that gives me whatever I want if I play along, but robs my fellow humans of the most basic human rights and needs, while patting me on the back and rewarding my complicit silence.

There are many people who know this, usually older like me, who have come out of the collective narcissism fostered and marketed by this culture, that is a parasite on all youth, and all youthful thought and energy, and that distracts the young from action, and political forward progress. There was a brief moment in my childhood, where there was a mass youth movement against the slavemasters of this country, but everyone was killed or imprisoned, and then those ruling families, then purchased every single media outlet that had once been a channel or venue for youth to participate in class revolt. Music is now, nationally, often a tool of the masters.
I’d say, looking around that they pretty much won.
There will be another round, I am sure. This is a natural cycle of evolution.

As fate would have, it I was raised in a nearly all black Neighborhood and family, in a family where everyone is a different color, and saw over the years the caste system enforced across the colors of my family everywhere we went. I being the whitest, was not only treated better by my grandmother, but am also able to blend in with white people more than my siblings, Which not only exposed me to straight ahead old school racism, but also liberal racism, and even black racism towards non-black people in Oakland. I am a spy in the house of races.

The thing that makes me saddest about all this is that I see the success of evil (read selfish) people who work together, themselves victims of their own brainwashing, while my own, (mixed/All colors/White/Latino/Black/Indigenous) suffer from the most self hating, jealous, backbiting, selfish behavior towards one another I have ever seen between a species.
Looking up the class ladder, I see that it is about money, while down here, (I am I think, middle class now) it is about color. Billionaires, have no problem working closely with other races to promote their global agenda, while two people from the neighborhood often fight to death for scraps or bragging rights.

When you deliberately shatter your lens (as I attempt, and usually fail to do. it grows back with astonishing speed) you will discover that we are like the child at the bosom of a dedicated thief. A country of people who have lived by the theft and murder committed by our masters so long that we see nothing wrong with it.

A people so controlled by comforts that a person of another color might as well be on a distant planet.
A people so distracted and hypnotized by our learned lifestyle, that rape, child trafficking, land grabbing, drone bombing, suicide attacks, institutionalized racism, mass genocide, and wholesale brainwashing complete with constant temptation of explicit sexual imagery, and constant shaming for the natural response to it, become so ordinary that we do not even question it.

A system where the very Judges employed to protect us are our worst enemies, and fully owned by corporations who conspire with the government to demolish all our rights, and then employ us as slave labor, when they cannot imprison us.

But mostly, the thing that is robbed is our humanity. Our ability to see others as equals, or equally deserving of love, respect, and resources. We have been trained to justify any actions we take in behalf of what we need or think we need.
Like a narcissistic child who thinks that their progress is due to their own hard work, rather than the fact that they were born to privilege, we convince ourselves that this is fine, and that we honestly came into all of these things through rightful ownership

This makes my latter years look more and more hypocritical. I wanted to get a small house near the coast, but who was that land taken from? who has the fucking nerve to actually claim ownership of land that was stolen, from others through murder?
This means that my original teachers were right. (BPP, Hoffman, Davis, O’Leary, yes, all those 60’s people. They were right)
Property IS theft, and therefore I am a thief as well for possessing any of it.

I can admit and live with that far more easily than the effort that comes from lying to myself.
My coffee is theft, my cell phone is theft, When I get a house, and I will, I will be buying stolen property, I will enjoy it mostly under guard of paid security, (police and Military) so long as I do not rock the boat too much. I am sick and poisoned with the western property disease that has swept thew word in these times. I am not however infirm with blindness, nor silence.

Either I bend the knee or raise the head, and I choose to raise the head.
We are a nation of thieves. The children of a grand theft, the product of a philosophy of thievery, perpetually taught in the art of justifiable thievery, and I am a part of the problem, and not it’s solution. Even just acknowledging this, will get me into arguments, and perhaps make a few enemies. So be it.
I may be a spiritually indentured servant of Rome, but I will not do it with a constant smile or in silence. I know what I am.
I am the descendant of a dynasty of thieves.

The blood in my coffee grows cold.

©Piero Amadeo Infante, 2014.

(Feel free to steal this with just credit me)
coffee

911 Call: How to retrieve the wounded human heart.

 

Image

 

Are you Broken-heated, lonely, or longing?

 I feel you. I was. Just two years ago. Nearly mad. Broken. Betrayed. And it wasn’t the first time.
And now, I am healed. Whole. Happy. Grateful. And single. 

A lot of you know me. I don’t get very fancy with cosmic language, or mystical descriptions of something I think requires careful, and simple observation. And still, for even the most fact-based, or critical person, I must say this. In the area of human relations and love, there is never, ever a static or fixed position or finite reality. There are infinite possibilities. This is the part of new age, or alternative thinking I think is worthy of closer attention by people. Love. What it is. How to find and keep it. How to share and grow it. Obviously, as an unfixed, ethereal concept of attraction closeness, and sharing, it is not governed by science or even reality as we know it. It therefore qualifies as magic. 

I don’t know why, but sometimes I can feel, what I perceive as the held breath of people waiting to feel loved, and seen. It’s like a sound. And I am moved by it deeply. A great chorus of perfectly out of tune voices, an echoing of the first humans who felt these things. Such a sad, beautiful, sweet, wanting sound. I swear I can hear it. 
These are dangerous times for romantics. But there is great love in the world waiting for you, should you be ready to engage with it. 

The only thing that can defeat the heart, and keep you in pain and longing, is the heart’s armor itself. cynicism, disbelief, self torment, and self denial, even when you are starving for affection, will block light, love, and warmth from your heart. like so many people I know. 
Save the cynicism, and disbelief for the laboratory, and the study. 
In The realm of the soul they will not serve you in the slightest. 
Trust me on this. 
When the longing becomes strong enough, that is when, and only when, many shed the armor of the heart, take that chance, and fly solo, with no net, no reason other than love, and bet all on a single hand, and follow their desire. It is beautiful to see and feels dangerous to the exposed, vulnerable soul. especially the one overcoming hurts and betrayals. I am just remembering it now again.

Know this:. The most dangerous thing to your ability to love, and share, and know intimacy, and therefore the most dangerous thing to your entire life, is growing hard, and slowly letting inaction and sadness take your life, which they will, if you do not do something about it. Love yourself first, love others secondly, and when you are grounded in love as an idea and a principle, you will attract those that love you. I have. 
And don’t be offended when someone cannot take what you offer. Move on and you will find someone that will, the person who was meant to share with you to begin with. Its a process. Keep optimistic. This is a game changer. Go out there. there is something out there waiting for you.

I may have a 53 year old life, mind, and body. But I have a five year old, indestructible heart. And I still believe in magic because all available evidence has shown me it exists in the hearts of people. And between them. Here and now. In the past. In the future. In all time and all space. Love. Its everywhere. 

You are loved. And so am I.

I write these things because I feel sometimes like I give so little, for all that has been given so freely to me, and I am not wealthy, but what I have, I share. I know that my experience means more than just my experience. We share a collective knowledge of the world, and I am just a tiny drop. And you have all shared so very much with me.

Piero Amadeo Infante

LATINO: The lost Worldwide family

41270776-jpg

I  had a beautiful conversation with a Boricua lady tonight, and it made me a little nostalgic.
I  remember a time when all of us, especially mixed kids like me, Cubans, Puerto Ricans, Mexicans, Dominicans, Venezuelans, Central Americans, Colombians, Peruvians, Spaniards, and all other people Loosely called Latino, were more like one family. Our colors didn’t matter, our politics didn’t matter, and our music didn’t even matter.

We were family, and we were happy to see each other, and we had a lot of respect and love for one another’s traditions, and music, and culture.
As the greater powers in the world, like the United States, and Britain, and other countries became more nationalistic, a lot of the smaller countries followed suit, and so did a lot of people. Pretty soon we weren’t all one happy family any more, but we were Caribbean, Central American, northern American, Spanish, or indigenous, Hispanics Vs. Latinos.

Then we became stateside Puerto Ricans, or island Puerto Ricans. We became the anti or pro-Fidel Cubans, and became either traditional Mexicans, or pocho second generation Mexicans.

Then the north started to fight with the south, the East Coast started to fight with the west coast, and now it’s rare that you would see the kind of international group of Latinos that used to come to the gigs I would play as a kid. We were much stronger together than we are now.

This is something that hurt me and has broken my heart for decades. Watching the United Nation of Latinos of all colors that raised me, come apart at the seams, and turn into separate warring camps.

We were so proud of our blackness. We were so proud of our Spanish blood. We were so proud of our indigenous roots. We were so proud that we were mixed. Asian Latinos, Black Latinos, White Latinos, middle eastern Latinos, Jewish Latinos. Because if you are Latino you are mixed, period. Mezclado. Como yo.

I am here, the mixed kid, the kid who grew up on the street, saying that all that is hereby over.

It’s time we started really respecting one another, and really loving one another again, and finding the bond of being Latino that brought us all together, and gave us so much power, and made us a fearsome vote, and united public opinion, and a force to be reckoned with, and not a bunch of Petty squabbling rivalries and micro nationalistic dummies fighting one another for nothing, because it was all a set up to divide us in the first place.

I say it’s time to draw together as a family, like never before, and seeing the commonality in our experience, and imminent threat of global racism, outside and inside of our communities, and take it seriously, and act on it. And that we think about our children, and their children, and their children and what kind of world are they going to live in and what we did to make that so.

This is my dream that we can all stand together, dream together, fight together, and help lead this nation, and any nation that we are citizens of, into a better future. And all it takes begin the process, is to hold your hand out and greet your family.
I look around and I see the next generation is already taking this up, because they know that nationalism is an old, obsolete idea.

I love my people in a way that my words can ever convey. I see us as one nation, and one giant tree with roots that go deep into history and branches that cover the world. This is what it means for me to be Latino today. A Responsibility. A blessing. A Journey.
It’s time. The alarm clock of history has gone off, and we can afford to sleep no longer.

The Babies in the picture look towards the future.
Why should we stay stuck in the past?

Wake up! I love you!
Piero Amadeo Infante

And now….

If the past years, and the past two years in particular, have taught me anything at all, it is that we are exactly as powerful, or powerless , and as subject to  the whims of others, or the effects of our own design,  as we believe ourselves to be.

I am free.

Emotional and spiritual Combat 101: Walking in the fire of life.

Revised for quicker reading)

The only holiday gift I can give you all this year is some information that comes from real-time, life and death combat and trauma inducing events. This information was vastly expensive. I am glad to have paid my part of the price.
However, I am not glad for many of my friends who have died paying it for me, nor my friends who still struggle with their own demons and ghosts. May we all be free.
Close Quarters Emotional Combat Training 101:
The Piero Method, Pt.1.
Ten tips for surviving and coming out a scrape a whole, happy human.
Short form and long form.

Short form:

1: A question contains much more information than the answer it evokes.

2: A leadership position means you are beholden to to everyone.

3: Research before you judge or join anything, always.

4: Do not allow negative people to speak for you even in your presence.

5: Don’t be offended if people only come when they need something. It’s human.

6: Come to know, understand, and learn how to use your special gifts.

7: You are authorized to walk from anything that is not good for you. Anything.

8: Question your own story, and your script, and if it is even real, or fiction.

9: Question your perceptions in general, & check for flawed vision of any kind.

10: You are already involved in everything around you. Period. Deal with it.

11: Be cautions of people, religions, and organizations claiming virtue or goodness
___________________________________________________________________

LONG FORM:

1: I am making a new rule. It is called the “Inquisitor’s Rule.”
It goes like this:
“A question contains much more information than the answer it is intended to evoke.” Think about it.  Think about a question and mine it for information before offering your reply.
We live in a society that does not ask enough questions. How’s that working out for us?

2: A leadership position in any serious situation means you are beholden to all members of the group, more than anyone else.
Being at the head of something is not a fashion statement. It is more like being an executive janitor. Think on this before seeking any leadership positions, and ask yourself if you can make yourself answerable to the person of least rank or power within the group. Also ask yourself if you can step down easily when you know it is better for the group. What is one day a throne can another day suddenly be a cross and nails. Having said that, leaders, and leadership are important. Being able to step up is important, as is being able to step down. Anything less mobile is a trap, and can lead to being set up as a villain or a fall guy.

3: Before you go into “Judge mind,” try “Jurists mind” (another expression I made up). In a situation that appeals to your emotions, especially issues of injustice, and wrongdoing by others, research, research, research.
If you do not research what you are getting into to, you run serious risk of being manipulated. This is historically proven, and I have seen it happen literally hundreds of times in my life.  This includes private and public accusations against anyone for any act.  I have seen several people die because of a mistake that was made, and there is evidence that thousands have been executed illegally by countries around the world. We should remember those who were found guilty and convicted  through trial and investigation who were then executed and later proven innocent beyond all doubt. This applies to all areas of life. Use the Jurist’s mind, before using the Judge mind.

4: Do not allow people to say things like “people like you and me” or ” you know, we’re a lot alike,” unless they actually are like you.
Especially beware of the “we” that people use as emotional Jiu Jitsu, like this:
“we’re losers,” we’re assholes,” or “life really sucks for us,” unless it is absolutely true. Also, in general, never let people speak for you without your explicit permission. Co-dependent language most be spotted and protected against 24/7. Trust me on this.

5: Understand and accept that people will come around more when they need and want something and can practically disappear when they do not.
This is natural human behavior, and it is good to not get bitter about it or insulted by it. When your path diverges from someone else’s, allow it to float off, peacefully, and with a blessing for them. You have done your job.
This has been perhaps the hardest lesson of my life. Letting go. I am still in training, and I become attached to things, and also in fear push them away on occasion. However, I am working on it, and it gets better all the time. Right now, I feel attached to very little, but I know the difference between being close and being attached, and it has made me very free.

6: Come to know your gift.
I used to think mine was fighting. I am physically gifted in that regard and I used it until I discovered that while I can only fight one or two people physically, I can take out an entire room with a joke and a smile. And make friends to boot. Breaking the intensity between you and someone else with a nod and a smile is an incredibly powerful way of affecting your surroundings in a positive way. Another gift of mine is my mouth. Making fun of myself, which is enormous fun for me anyway, defuses a lot of negative energy around me.
People can remember things and bear witness, others can offer solutions, and yet others, can ask questions of people, getting them to open up. Some are expert organizers, some are natural empaths.  These are all special gifts and all should be equally understood and utilized. What’s yours?

7: Always give yourself an out.
A lot of people I know are, and feel, trapped by a situation, relationship, family function, job, religion, disaster, or other thing, that says they cannot walk away. In these situations they make themselves and others miserable and sad.
Now, if you are adult enough to admit you love misery (like so many others, including half the people I know) and misery is the point, then by all means, stay in your torturous, horrific, trapping, emotional prison and squeeze every drop of delicious torment from it. With my blessing.
But if this is not how you want to live your life, there is no law, and no rule that says you cannot walk away from ANYTHING. Period. You make the rules about what you do, and how you define yourself as a person. No one ever said you have to stay in a dead end job, or relationship, or group, simply because that’s the rule. It is not. Act on your own behalf and in the interests of your own freedom. Do your best to plan for the unexpected and develop your individual safety net.

8: Question your own script and your story.
Everyone has a script, and a story. For years I never questioned mine. It was partially written by me, reenforced by my family and the public, and for decades it was what I followed and it turned out to be mostly bullshit.
Piero’s Story: Lonely man, victim of harsh circumstance, fights alone in his lonely quest, ever hurtful, and stoic, he faces the evils of the world, all alone ending in desolation and on a lonely journey that no one else can understand, all set to a Clint Mansell soundtrack.
It was a pack of lies. I was never really alone and there were times when I could not find supporters or friends, but they were definitely there or else I would have died. And I was never cut out to be stoic, or over serious, because I have always hidden too much joy and laughter for that, but sometimes I hid it because I thought it made me look “edgy,” “cool,” or “tough” and because after the hyped up 80’s, “depresso” became chic (again), and being the most miserable got you the most game.  Thank god that’s over.
My real story is that I am a person who came from mixed circumstances, I was never alone, I have been crazy lucky, and that the only story that even matters is the one that I write every day when I wake up.
I am not the sum of my circumstances, or events. I am me. I choose every second of every day and nothing else does. Fate may control the outer world, but I am responsible for my inner court.
And so are you. Ditch the fake story and find the manuscript of the real you. Do it soon. Have you been buying into a false story about yourself?

9: Question your perceptions.
Many people, (Like me, most of my life) become stuck in the minefield of having to be right, having to be accurate, and having to be a good judge, (See tip 1) when in fact, the appearance of having this quality often hides the fact that it is arbitrary, false, and entirely subject to constantly changing perceptions. Seeing something accurately requires hard work, and while many people seem to feel it is a birthright or an easy thing to determine what’s really going on,  nothing could be farther from the truth. (As I see it today, in the context of this conversation, according to today’s temporary, informational caseload, and subject to change).
The current state of our nation is proof positive that the majority of people here not only cannot think critically, but would rather not even try. Even the people who think they think critically often never research,or question their own perceptions in serious matters like politics, medicine, arts, social justice, and anything involving humanity.
One of the pillars of critical thinking is Carl Sagan’s baloney detection kit, which comes from his astounding book, “The Demon haunted world: Science as a candle in the darkness” which I seriously recommend EVERYONE read. It could save your life. Here is his baloney detection kit:

http://rationalwiki.org/wiki/The_Fine_Art_of_Baloney_Detection

Question your perceptions, they are the lenses of your reality. Make sure that they are not warped with brainwashing, flawed in their basic construct of reality (as you perceive it), foggy with emotion, over-focused with hatred or anger, not rose colored, and that they are large enough to see the whole picture. This is evolution. take part.

10: You are already involved in everything around you.
There is nothing you see, or interact with, literally, that you are not involved in. The level of involvement you choose is up to you, but if you’re on the scene, you are in the mix. Each person must act according to their own conscience and special gifts, but there is no copping out of being a human on planet earth, and everything you do, and everything you do not do will not only affect you and your peers, but also your children and their peers, and human history in general. This is not an individual combat survival rule, because acting on your conscience in this society, if you are not careful, can get you arrested, or even killed.  You have to choose a level of involvement everyday that you can live with.
Involvement has been the stuff of legend, creating heroes, villains, witnesses, stories, and also ironically, those who did all they could to avoid involvement, who because of the way fate works, were involved anyway.
You are not now, nor will you ever be a bystander in life, regardless of how you might try, so find a level you can handle and go for it. This is you showing up with your best.

11: Finally, and this is very important, be cautious of people, religions and organizations claiming virtue, spiritual authority or goodness and of anyone who constantly trumpets their goodness or uses the press at every opportunity to show how good they are.
People and groups with “goodness” and “virtue” embroidered on their banners can be among some of the most dangerous, spiritually vacant, and ethically challenged on earth.  Also, this postmodern western civilization and society to a great degree thinks “Christian Puritan” (modest, asexual, charitable, monogamous, God fearing) equals “virtue.” These are commercially and culturally enforced values that kill in the name of a sick, superstitious, and ancient fear and set of beliefs, that always, always, leads with the word “righteous.”
This shows itself in the vast shame around sexual issues that is killing so many and responsible for so much pain and suffering. And it shows itself through the fact that racism, tribalism, sexism, and a fear and hatred of the unknown is rampant in every religion. There is a Muslim, Jewish, and Buddhist equivalent, and one in every religion, that claims their archetype (their founder or hero) is the very model of virtue. Beware.
But most of all, I must beware of rightness in myself and of me giving myself total license and thinking what I do is always “good” or “right.”

I’d like to say that on my best day, that my best act of secret charity is a “good” thing. But that would not be the truth. The truth is that it is a selfish thing, and I do it because it meets my emotional needs.  Any hero is acting on their emotional needs. They do it because it feels right.
Helping people and charity is a kind thing, and “good” is a very broad, and misunderstood value, which each human must struggle with as much as they struggle with the concept of “evil.”
All in all, it would be a wise thing to not get drunk on either good or evil as a concept,  and also to exercise caution around those who do.

I wish you all love, safety and clarity in this coming year, and in all years.

Piero Amadeo Infante.

(Copyright, P. Infante, 2013. Use by permission only)

Recently, a friend posted an article about a group known as “Femen” regarding the validity  of nudity as a form of protest. The article is posted here, and my initoal response follows. Please feel free to comment. The article is here:

http://www.policymic.com/articles/77455/femen-s-protest-in-bethlehem-shows-just-how-clueless-they-are#

 

My response to the author:

 

“I am noting The slant of the article, the passion in these words here, and completely respectfully, and in the spirit of fair debate I’d like to weigh in here.

1: Over 2000 years of Male-sponsored shame based teachings in all three branches of Abrahamic religion, and a taught fear of the female form, the female body, and most of all the menstrual process, has had no less then a profound effect on world religions as well as the cultures of the three major world religions.and in matters of nudity often has otherwise liberal minded, and progressive people speaking like staunch conservatives/fundamentalists, though many probably do not realize it.

I’d like to ask the following questions:

1: Why does public nudity for any reason whatsoever even matter to any of you?

2: Why would a woman exposing her body be self-objectification by default? (I realize that it can be objectification, I am asking, why are you assuming that here?)

3: Is this anti-body exposure stance, and the comments about their motives, not a form of “slut shaming”?

My point here is that, nothing ignites controversy quicker than human nudity, and that is EXCEEDINGLY revealing. (pardon my unintentional pun)
There is vast evidence that this idea, that there is somehow virtue in covering oneself, or equating virtue with physical modesty, is a distinctly religious idea, and also a product of the patriarchal hegemony in religion over the past 2000 years.

Finally, I’d like to point out that nude women being presented publicly in Jerusalem predates, both Christianity and Islam, by nearly a thousand years, and on the spot where these women are bearing all, (Granted, its sensational and press baiting for sure) another nude female form was regularly bared publicly, and worshiped and cerebrated.
If you want to talk about what mindset and body image, has a longer and more authentic connection to Jerusalem, I offer the following:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Asherah

The attack on the female form as goddess, has been in play for thousands of years, by authors of biblical texts.

http://archive.archaeology.org/0503/abstracts/israel.html

I only ask you to consider this, and tell me: why such harsh words and judgement?
Obviously some are taking this terribly seriously, and if that is the case, than you can surely not call them idiots, Because who take idiots seriously?

My motive here is to shed light on the shame ideology, and the taboo nature of taught religion, as well as the taught fear of open human sexuality. I think that sexual is shame one of the most dangerous ideologies in human history, and responsible for vast numbers of deaths and crimes, massacres. and a great deal of human suffering.
I think shame is a killer. Plain and simple.

I invite commentary. (Please keep it civil? Thanks!)”

Piero Amadeo Infante

 

Image

STONECUTTER: This is for you. My life and Death testimonial, 2013.

STONECUTTER: This is for you.
My life and Death testimonial, 2013.I love figuring stuff out

I had a dream last night that I was walking up a steep hill, & I passed a church that had a banner that said ” Parish of the replicated dove”
I passed it and went to a house where there was a male-female couple living with the man’s twin brother. The woman flirted with me and I told her not to. I asked if she needed a daddy and she said yes. Her boyfriend realized she was flirting with me, and produced a gun. I took the gun away from him, and held him as he broke down and cried, his brother, looked a lot like him, and was viewing the entire thing skeptically.

I was awoken by my telephone, with the news that my friend Joseph had died last night, this making it two Joes I know who have left this place in the last few days. Getting up and around doing some work and drinking coffee this morning I saw them both in my mind eye laughing at me and my dream, saying, “figure that shit out, Sherlock”

I am not offended, or afraid of death, and at this age I can feel it coming for me sometimes, and feel a little shiver. This life has gone by so very fast, that I have barely had a chance to catch my breath since the day that I was born. I wonder when I join my dead, what kind of Muerto will I be? Will I linger like I feel my dead linger around me? Will I still have unanswered questions?

I do not know why, but it has always seem to come to me to record the story of the dead and the living. I am like a living record of the things and people around me, and I believe that when I leave this place, I will be taking these records with me to deliver them somewhere in the universe I have never been before. Life is very short.
Only you, the people that I have known, were hard enough, and soft enough to write yourselves onto the hard stone of my heart. Stonecutter.

Having said that, I should tell you that I love you so dearly, that it would make my heart burst. I see your hard work. I see your loyalty. I feel your heartbreak, and your anger. And I really feel when you feel like you’re alone. But most of all, the times when you cry. I also enjoy your victories, and your successes, and time when you feel simple contentment. I feel those too. You might say I am your biggest fan.

I see you like a Magi, presiding over the circumstance of your life, like someone looking into a pool of water trying to solve the mystery of their own existence. For me, this has made everything between us a ritual. Every candle, cigarette, drink, fight, hug, lovemaking, and conversation, was all you and I, engaging in interpersonal magic with one another, discovering ourselves through each other, and learning every time, that there really is no other.

When I leave this place I wish to be cremated. I wish to have my urn placed on top of my father’s coffin, in our graves at the Piedmont cemetery, with an additional stone, with a raven, a wolf, and a rabbit, etched into it.
I wish for the inscription “One thing ends so another begins – linger not here long, but with the living, my friend” to be written on my stone.
Also please add in writing so tiny that to read it you have to get one inch away from it to read it: “Please get off of my grave. You are crushing me. Thank you.”
Give everything I own to my oldest niece to distribute to my family as she sees fit.

But most of all, knowing how short life is, if you have anything to say to me, that you love me, hate me, adore me, tolerate me, forgive me, want to be forgiven by me, want to sleep with me, want me to leave you the hell alone, want to knock my ass out, think you can kick my ass, or anything else, by all means, tell me as soon as you get some free time, because this whole thing will be over in the blink of an eye, and the only time you have, is the time of now.
I hope you can forgive how heated, and fiery I was. How slow I was to learn, and how I always seemed to be in motion and possessed of one storm or another. I also hope you can revel in my victories. The fact that I came to understand all this. That I found peace. That I accepted my place as an elder, and that I held myself accountable, and came to enjoy a contentment unlike any I had known before.

If you are reading this, you have more of my love and respect than you can ever understand. I will keep your record safe, and witness clearly and accurately as I can, the circumstance of your life, and it will become part of some celestial historic record I am certain of it.
I promise to do my best.
I really and truly do love you.
This is my testimony, inspired by what I beleve to be my higher powers, so that there would be no mistake, about how felt about you, and how highly I thought of you when I was alive.

Your friend on this brief path,
Piero Amadeo Piero Infante,
December 12th, 2013

— at Mountain View Cemetery- Piedmont.

Image

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!

Does Christmas get you down?
Do you get all moody and even “emo”?
Are you a grumpus amid the rumpus?

I think you are in need of a Winter-vention!
::Ahem!:::

You are hereby, fully, and categorically released from any and all burdensome feelings, either positive, nostalgic, or negative, and are under no compulsion whatsoever to recognize any rituals, customs, traditions, or commercial orgies that may result in said public yearly mental breakdown, including, but not limited to, drunken relatives, random “Christmas-y” emotional meltdowns, exposure to bad food, indescribably unacceptable entertainment, music, horrific clothing choices, and any and all other variations on bizarre occult-commercial zombism, including sudden attacks of distant relatives, SugarJacked children, sullen teens going through an “emo” or “goth” phase, and the most dreaded “opening of the presents” inter-family financial status shamefest.

Also, you are given free license, to deceive, hoodwink, and subterfuge any and all persons attempting to hijack you into this annual spiritual shipwreck, including smiling, bullshitting, and saying what you will to escape.

As a sentient person, you are invited to celebrate the winter solstice, with a pagan goat slaughtering ritual, agnostic RejectionFest, or random self-empowerment demonstration. Skate, take a walk, go to the gym, make love, write a story, form your own dammed tradition. No one EVER said you were stuck with this one! you are FREE.

On the other hand if you are a mulled-wine drinking, reindeer sweater wearing, hyper-emotional tear factory, who has a special moment and gets high on little drummer boy, old Andre champagne commercials, and the smell of pine and distant relative’s bad body scent choices, you do so with my blessing.

For me, Christmas is what Halloween is to most people. A delightful spooky fiesta of dead spirits and evil little elves running around causing mischief galore! Here’s is my fave spooky X-mas track. Join me in the shivery spookiness!

Yours truly,
Piero,
Emotional hostage negotiator.

The rose in winter. A Love story.

After a long walk in the icy blasts, and winter reverie of my hometown, watching couples, and kids, and families, I saw her today for the first time in 13 years. 

This MENSA member, Creole Mulalta with the big brown eyes, and soft voice, who I had loved since I was a child, who had practically defined beauty for me as a youth. 

I remember her at my first fight, (Kick his ass, Pio!!!) my first hospital visit, (I told your dumb ass not to do that!) my first time in Juvie, and my first gig. I remember seeing her at Lake anza in a bathing suit when we were both 15, with her wild curly hair, grinning at me, and biting my cheek like a wolf might. and remember how it snatched the breath right out of my chest, and stole my balance. 

We grew up. 

She had gotten married, moved out of the country, and I ran into her at Peet’s coffee.
Her mere presence in my psyche was like a bomb blast, breaking time into shards, and freezing me into position like a deer in a hunters sights, instantly admitting to myself how I had always felt about her. We hug, and the scent of rosewater, makes me dizzy, and her voice, soft and precise, drowns out everything else, and I am in the eye of an emotional storm, surrendering. 

“I Used to have a big crush on you, you know” she said.
“Yes. I know. I have desired you for decades now. I have loved you my whole life. Since I was about fifteen”

The air between us went silent, and warmed up, and even the people standing around us, seemed to still, and brace themselves, and lean in just a littler closer with their ears, straining for the outcome. It was as if the entire Cafe had frozen in position on cue. 

Her pupils got very big, almost black, and she tilted her head sideways in that way that had always easily disarmed, charmed, and possessed me nearly all my life.
She blushed and was shocked almost to silence, and asked me, “you mean this whole time, you liked me too?”
“No.” I replied. “I Loved you. dearly”
“How come you never told me?” She looked genuinely curious.

“Because these were, and still are, dangerous times for romantics like me, and I never, ever go where uninvited. I was a criminal. I was a musician. I was not the guy to bring home.I was not the guy to make a home with”

A single tear escapes her eye, and she places her hand gently on my cheek and asks me about my life. 

We talk a little more, hug again, and I see her husband come in, and introduce himself to me, and at once, I love him too. She always did make good choices. 
Here is the man who cares for a woman I love, and the effects of his care are evident in their close bond, and his instant understanding and acceptance of who and what I am. I hug him as well, and by the time her son comes in, I am near tears. I love him too. This is the path untaken by me, and I have no regrets, but there is a lot of emotion around it.

I give them my blessing, we all promise to stay in contact, and I watch as they ramble on down Vine street like a pack of happy wolves, until I can’t see them anymore, and inwardly I now that everything, every single occurrence, every word, and ever action, has unfolded perfectly, and that fact that I feel so emotional about it, is all a part of the plan.
Because I am the keeper of this story. The holder of the memory.

I leave the Cafe, enjoying the cold perfection of the wind on my face, and go up into the hills, to catch a glimpse of a bigger picture, thankful.

These are the days of magic and wonder.

 

Image