Piero Amadeo Infante. Really awesome!

This is my Awesome blog, chock-full of meaningful and useful content. You are welcome.

The Ghost in my house


I am the ghost in my house
I am the ghost in my hall
Reciting poetry in the air
And touching the living with my song
I am the other side, reaching
I am the memory of the dead, living
I am the hope of all good spirits now departed
I am the blessing of the kindness of phantasms
The cool air on your neck
The far off cry of your unborn dream
And all things floating over your head and heart, that you cannot name.
I am the ghost in my house
I am the ghost in my hall
And I was here.

Falling forward


Once a year now, I simply enter my testimony into the record. And here, for the record, my name is Piero Amadeo Infante, and this is the year of our Lord, 2016. On the 20th of January, next year, I shall turn 55, something I never could before, and still now cannot, fathom in any reasonable manner.

Sometimes, when the conditions are right, and there is enough activity around me to distract my conscious mind, I can be totally still.
it’s a little spooky though.

I feel like I’m processing too much, and the load triples when I stand still, developing all this film, doing all this math, and mapping all these places, in the life that I have lived up to the moment that finds me here writing this, for no other reason than to bear witness that I was here, and that I actually existed.

I fear the things all men my age fear a little, I think. the slowing of the blood. The lessening of the usefulness. The road ahead, which for many of us, looks like the road behind, meaning we travel alone.
And most of all, we fear being trapped in our own gravity, our own perspective, and secretly want do risky things, or get involved in bold projects, to save us from the prison of our own outlook. creative pursuits, are our prison breaks, and the culmination of them, our personal Bastille days. We want our reality to be broken sometimes.

The peace that has overtaken my life in the past few months, I have used to learn things I never knew before. How to truly be a domestic housekeeper. How to shop, clean, and keep the house.
I never stayed in one place long enough to learn these skills. I finished a book which is now in the hands of my able editor, while I take interviews from around the globe.
I am able, on occasion to be of service (or so I would like to think) to younger men navigating parts of their life, that I have mastered, while my life, careens recklessly into new territories I have yet to discover.  it is like calling to the ships behind you to avoid the reefs, while you, ahead of them, sail directly into a fog bank, feigning confidence.

The lack of rain in this part of the world absolutely kills me. I mean really. I can feel myself dying inside a little bit every day that there is no rain. It was always the only safe place for me, the only time I felt totally loved by the universe. I’m considering leaving this place and moving to a place that has a regular rain pattern for that reason alone. I cannot live in a place with no rain.
I deal with feelings of my departed mother, wondering why it never felt like she was on my side, and beginning to mildly envy those who had actual mothers, and what that must of felt like, to have somebody to protect you. In my life, I have mostly been protector, but never really felt protected.
I hold the vocation of motherhood as sacred, and mothers in general really impress me. as a study for scriptwriting and character development, I went through the entire series of the Sopranos, (A series that used my music) and found the similarities between the soprano family and my own, a little too close for comfort.

My mother’s impact was like a comet, and like a comet, everything exploded out from the middle, with nearly every member of my family, changing their last name and leaving town at some point.
I don’t feel robbed over something I never had to begin with. It just seems like a strange ritual, between women and their children, this religion and belief in unbridled love, that I admire, but was never a practitioner of.

I am neck deep in the middle of my second book about 350 pages in, recording around 50 compositions for use in Spanish-language television, working on three scripts for children’s cartoons, and generally using my imagination to make a living, which is turning out pretty nicely.

I keep dreaming of a place, surrounded by Eucalyptus, where I plant a giant circle of black bamboo, and build a single level house, very spartan, solar powered, water efficient, with a beautiful outdoor area. A place for me to wind down my life, a place to receive visitors, and to do projects. And a place less populated. I’m getting a little tired of people. Humans are aggravating me.

I have, by choice, not engaged in any romantic long term engagements, for nearly two years  now, in an attempt to clear my head and heart, and see clearly the nature of my love, lust, fascination, obsession, adoration, and issues with, women in all their forms. The subject has become no easier.

I feel the dead in and around me, with a pleasant lack of gravity, and of late, have been the subject, of what I can only call astronomically rare good luck.

Looking back, on all this, I think I was the one that was supposed to die earlier. The one a lot of people thought would be either destitute, or delusional, despite the fact that the same people made use of my talent, services, and loyalty. All debts paid in full.
I’m still here, and we owe one another nothing. I’m doing quite a bit better than most of the people who considered themselves stable, productive, or even upstanding members of society. Having scratched the surface of the façade, I’m no longer impressed by any of these people, their businesses, their industries, their claims, and least of all, their expensive charades. I’m utterly glad, that I took this road, through the rain, to wind up exactly where I am.
In a wide dirt road, in the fog, with 1000 miles behind me, and 1000 miles ahead of me, sitting on a suitcase, writing poetry, and remembering my loves with a smile.

Life in general, is a bloody, beautiful, heartbreaking, joyful disaster, and metaphorically, you could say, that I dressed perfectly for the occasion, in the clothes of a street kid, who could survive anything, and did.

I’m still here. I have a black eye and a bloody lip, and sometimes nurse a broken heart, yet as the poem says, my head is unbowed, and as another poem says, there are miles to go before I sleep.

Suddenly now, after writing this, my spirit feels lighter.
Thank you for bearing the burden of this testimony with me, and I hope it does not offend. It is only way I know how to communicate, things I do not fully understand.


Real news from Real Locals. Check it out!


Meanwhile, back home, if you want real news coverage, a truly local perspective, from a long time resident who has a cutting edge take on Oakland and Berkeley, Check out for articles on the arts, music, commerce, changes in the East Bay, and and the future of Northern California’s boomingest region.

This is true Bay Area media, culture, and voice. Check it out~!

Home reconstructed

There is something about the routine of normality, and domestic living that heal long standing wounds to my heart and soul.
I never really had a home before, or even the desire for one. I think I starved a little in that respect, now knowing what my life needed.

But now, a solid year of cleaning, cooking, gardening, (Or rather clumsy attempts at gardening) and letting my highly qualified NextGen arts community handle the front lines, (hey I put in 40 years, sue me) have stilled me and I hear myself, and the subtleties of my own heart again.

It wasn’t really about the place or places, it was about the routine, and the day in day out life that used to scare me, because I have essentially been on the run and scared of stillness for nearly 50 years. Now that stillness can be my friend.
Meet Piero. The homemaker. With his helpful cooking tips. lol.


Power: For you.

I see you.

I saw you sitting in your car today looking a little beat up.
Smoking a cigarette, with your head occasionally in your hands, and sighing deeply. I could tell that some adversity had struck.
I know that look, and that sadness well.
I know you feel sad sometimes with life, what you perceive as a lack of personal power, you feel unseen, and like you and your feelings, do not count.
Not true.

This is an Illusion, the illusion of one who has brought their diamond to the rhinestone market. It can never been seen for it’s true worth, by people totally unaccustomed and unlearned in who, and what you are. And I see you.

I learned power alone, but learned to wield it through my interactions with others. you can too.

Never, ever, place your importance in the hands of people you don’t really know, or people who were born with their social power, or wear it like a garment, and who are this society’s idea of empowered people, because they are ruling class, or pretty, or have a sick society’s seal of approval. This is not power, this is Hubris. And time will lay waste to it as it always has.
Do not emulate this. And never allow them to determine your worth under any circumstances.

Cultivate your own power, alone, getting in touch with yourself and your dead, and when you do want to know your real worth is, you will know it among people who value you, and care about you, and who listen and learn from you and who are the simple folks who work, cook, clean, raise kids, drive, and are everyday people, because it is through sharing power, that they create power. And me. I will share my power with you.
Real power can only be shared. All else is merely force, and assumption.

You have power here, beyond what you know, and I see you.
I see you.

Piero Amadeo Infante

(Illustration by Nan Cruz, from the book “The Kingdom of Mescal”)

GET OFF MY LAWN: 20 things you notice in your 50’s


20 things you notice in your 50’s

AKA 20 things I noticed in my 50’s,
WARNING: Some entries may be considered gender and geography specific

1: Badly designed anything.Plates/cups, tools, & anything handheld especially
2: People with mental health problems masquerading as civil servants
3:There is sugar in EVERYTHING. Next: sugar in the water and air supply
4: As a smarter creature, dating is easier, connections are more difficult.
5: Things like “nature vs nurture”, & “science vs. deity” become meaningless
6:You master the art of letting people say ridiculous shit, and saying nothing
7: You can do whatever you want without explaining anything to anybody
8: Not scared to be the 1 in a crowd of 5000 saying “No. I don’t agree”
9: You get involved in a hobby/skill that makes your friends go, “whoah.”
10: Life becomes less a vehicle for you, & you become more a vehicle for life
11: Young men seeking conflict you used to fight, just need a big brother
12: Money doesn’t mean the same thing as when you were young
13:You begin to see death as layover in a long flightplan 2 god knows where
14: You become suspicious of people claiming virtue through their politics
15: You become part of a network of OG’s that really gets shit done
16: You actively look for places to help and assist people and causes
17:A lack of fear does not necessarily mean a presence of courage
18: You more begin to see women as God . Not in worship, but in communion.
19: It is totally OK to be utterly selfish sometimes.
20: You find it easier to be corrected without fighting the person correcting you.
(people pay millions for that info, and I am getting it FREE? ok!
So are you for that matter, shattup! lol! smile emoticon Get off my lawn!!!)

©Piero Amadeo Infante, 2015


POWER 101. For people who work with authority.

The art and social science of personal empowerment.
A spiritual martial practice.

I am powerful today.

Power, and being empowered, is a gravity. You can feel it’s weight when either witnessing or wearing it. It is like carrying an extra 100 pounds, and takes practice navigating socially, and spiritually.
It can also depress, frustrate, and isolate the one utilizing it, and there are a number of places where personal power will not affect the outcome of a situation at all. (Love is often very unresponsive to power)

It is often misunderstood as “License”, the ability to do whatever you want, whenever you want, but nothing could be farther from the truth. It is more like walking a tightrope while juggling a lit stick of dynamite, a running chain saw, and a feather. You will learn the word “ethereal” You become a conduit, through which power flows, and it has to flow outward, since being an endpoint for power is exceedingly dangerous for a human.

It is for this reason that I prize the elders, babies, and many of the women and men in my life, from whom I can draw strength, love, and counsel, because they could care less about my power, and it resets me, and refreshes me, and reminds me that I am not power, and power is not me, but merely a belief, a currency, and a practice, best sheathed like a sword until actually needed.
These people keep me earthbound, and sane, in a sometimes insane world.

And a funny thing becomes clear. The more power you have, the less you need to use to affect outcomes.

Some days I find myself in such an advantageous, powerful and blessed position, that the only sensible or even moral to do, is to find somewhere, or someone to help out. Sometimes that someone is even me. To shed my power, and be helper among helpers, and in the service of others.

This is one of the sure fire ways I know, to keep my head and heart above the quicksand that is my personality and it’s vastly selfish me-oriented nature, when it is in danger of binging on power.

It is a daily practice, and responsibility for all who would wield and demonstrate power.

©Piero Amadeo Infante, 2015

Context in the Pyramid connection discussion.

Please keep all comments respectful and science minded.

Bali-Acintya-God-Mayan-Stele-Prana-Hand-yoga Bali-Goa-Gajah-Temple-Pyramid-of-the-Magicians Bali-Maya-Chakana-Cross-Parallels Bali-Mayan-Serpent-Statues Balinese-Mayan-Gods-Howler-Monkey-God-Mayan Bali-Third-Eye-Mayan-Third-Eye Besakih-temple-El-Castillo-Mayans-Balinese Goa-Gajah-temple-Elephant-Cave-Mayans-Pyramid-of-Uxmal-Magicians Maya-Bali-Elephants-Old-World-New-World-Elephants Mayan-Balinese-Face-Above-Doorway-Monster Mayan-Balinese-Triptychs-1 Mayan-Balinese-Triptychs-2 Pura-Besakih-Mayans-Ossuary Ubud-Bali-Corbel-Arch-Mayan-Corbel-Arch

POPS HENNEN FOUND! now with his son. Thanks to all who helped!

pops hennen

Thanks to all your help, Pops Hennen has been FOUND  and has been reunited with his son.

Why do you make music and song?


“Why do you make music, and song?”

She asked me quietly, leaning over me, brushing my neck, her hair soft and curly, tickling my shoulder, using all her charm to disarm, and see into me, like a thief who knows their score.

“Why makest though this great noise unto the heavens?”
(We resort to theatrical English on occasion)
She wanted to know why I had endeavored in music and tale.
It made me ponder.

When we look and shout into the heavens we are calling out for the confirmation of our own being, and the noise we make here, and the echo we hear, is our calling back. it is an invitation to write history, and to bear witness to your perception. You are lonely no more, for you yourself are there, answering back.

What do you see when you are merely peering into space, or listening to what some call silence?
They say you see and hear what you look and listen for. We all look for the one thing.

I see change. upheaval, timeless forms regularly being destroyed, disintegrated, absorbed, and used in the creations of other new forms themselves soon destined for destruction. Including us.

I see a presumed global sentiency attempt to put an orderly ideological handle on time, it’s whimsical, almost taunting personality, and it’s ethereal nature beyond classification.

I see the noble human spirit. and think, is it really more noble that that of a wheat kernel? or a chimp? What would make is so, other than our desire for meaning?

Both life and death strike without warning, and I joyfully accept the chaos, like a child who has strapped down in a roller coaster ride they know will terrify them, and does it again and again, all to feel something outside their own control.

Life lives outside my control, and inside my perception.
Like many others, I feel the celestial loneliness that makes me cry out “I am here!” with music, song, words, and interactions all a play for remembrance, all designed to etch my name in history, all meant to show proof of my passing.

I know why the wolf howls, and why some of the humans I love make a great and terrible noise into the heavens.

“We are here. I am here. remember me”

©Piero Amadeo Infante, 2015

Blog at | The Baskerville Theme.

Up ↑


Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 1,972 other followers