A Love Letter To My Wife

Hey My Love…

I haven’t met you yet. Or maybe I have. Not really sure. No matter. You’re out there. I can feel You.

You’re a brunette…..or maybe a blonde….possibly a redhead. Perhaps your hair is highlighted in a variety of colors - purple, pink, fuchsia - I really don’t care. I just love that you are all of you.

I’m your’s, Mama. You have my heart. Which means, you have the very best I have to give. You have what matters most to me. You have the single most precious gift I can give you.

What’s inside there is sacred; it’s tender, gentle, fiery, untamable, wild, passionate, powerful, sometimes misunderstood; it’s incredibly beautiful, romantic, authentic, and absolutely immense. And it’s your’s. Because that’s what love looks like to me. 

I will love you in a way you may never knew even existed before we met.

And, there’s something else you need to know:

I ain’t gonna be easy. 

For one thing, I’m prone to sometimes wrapping that tender heart inside a slab of stone. And not just any stone: Granite. I consciously chose Granite. Because Granite is hard as fuck. Granite is also textured, colorful, and rich; formed by the fire and brimstone of the earth and heavens themselves. Granite is really beautiful. There’s nothing I would rather have to protect that soft handful of precious tissue. That Granite has helped me survive.

But sweetness…..

I’m so tired of being that way. My heart is lighter than air. But that Granite, fuck, it’s heavy. Sometimes it hurts my chest, burdens my body, just to carry it. 

Let me know that I don’t have to be that way with you. Let me know, I can just let that Granite go. Let me know that I can save my Granite for when I need it. For when we need it; like when anyone or anything means you harm. Let me know that I can just be myself with you: in all of my glorious, mecurial, strong, sensitive, wild, passionate, splendid, creative, powerful, one of a kind, exquisite, messy, flawed, boyish, silly, life loving, fucked-up, glory.

Let me draw an analogy. Some men are like a blue Buick, or maybe a black Mercedes, cruising down a well traversed interstate highway. They are very stable. Predictable. They don’t swerve much. They stay inside the lines. They rarely pass on the right. They go over the speed limit, but not by much. They stay on course. Minimal bumps. All four wheels, always on the road. Radio never too loud. 

And, they rarely look under the hood.

Baby, that ain’t me.

I’m more like a metallic purple custom GTO convertible, speeding down a road I carve myself, full of swerves, and surprises; passing on the right if the left ain’t open, going well over the speed limit, radio volume often on 11. I pay attention, but I’m in constant awe of my incredible surroundings. 

I stop, frequently, and soak it all in. I relish the sheer experience of it, and take a fuck ton of pictures. 

What’s most important to me on this journey, is that I share it. All of it. With you. 

And, I love looking under the hood. I love looking at what’s inside. 

Different? You bet. Complicated? Yup. A tad harrowing at times? Absolutely. 

However……

I got you, baby. You’re safe with me. One arm is on the wheel, and the other arm is wrapped lovingly and securely around your shoulders. 

Because I’ve made a choice: I don’t wanna do this ride without you. Not anymore. I don’t wanna live this magic unless you are by my side. For you are the other half of one soul. You are the other piece of something far greater than both of us. So I’m not letting go. Ever. No matter what.

I make you this promise: We are gonna be fucking amazing together. I will fiercely guard your path. I will have your back, your front, your flank. And you are going to feel so loved. You are gonna be so exquisitely cherished. You are gonna be so preciously honored. I am gonna rock your world, dent your universe, drop your jaw (and your pants), and curl your toes. I am going to do whatever I have to, to take us where I know we can go together. We are gonna have one incredible connection. We are gonna have one incredible life together. 

I know, doll. I’m a bloody handful. Probably two. Maybe even three.

But I am so fucking worth it.

 

 ©2018 Clint Piatelli, MuscleHeart LLC, and Red F Publishing. All rights reserved.

Team

It’s been said that cynicism is just an unpleasant way of telling the truth. It’s also been said that if you scratch a cynic, you’ll find a disappointed idealist. 

The argument there is that, originally, the cynic deeply trusted, deeply invested, deeply believed, and then had those ideals and beliefs shattered. So, as an act of protection, they became cynical, because the pain of that betrayal was so devastating.

Years ago, I unconsciously developed a cynicism about love. Any love. Be it from an intimate partner, a friend, or a family member. I didn’t start out that way. And I’m not that way any more. But it took a fuck ton of work to shed that shit.

When I feel the word “love”, I feel the word “team”. Because sharing love with another is being part of a team; the two of you have this relationship, it's sacred, and unique, just to the two of you. It's a special energy, a one of a kind bond, never-ever duplicated in the history of humankind, because there was never, is never, and will never be ever, two people just like the two of you. That gives me goose bumps.

From jump street, I was part of a team. I’m a twin. In the womb, I had company. Being part of a team is in my DNA. It's in my damn electrons. 

My whole life, a constant driving emotional thread has been to be part of a team. I believe that drive is in everyone. We need connection. We need intimacy. Maybe it was just more overt in me.

My childhood was ultimately lonely. My family never felt like much of a team. Emotionally, I felt that nobody had my back. That scenario got even more aggravated as I got older. 

As a kid, while all of the material essentials were generously provided by my parents, little John (my name before I legally changed it) was dying emotionally on the inside. I learned not to share how I felt, because that proved dangerous. My parents, and my siblings, did the best they could, and there is no blame here, just a recognition of my very personal experience. I developed a cynicism about love. About relationships. Fuck, if my own family wasn’t going to be there for me, who was? Nobody. So I learned that, emotionally, I better take care of me. I better cover my ass. 

My years as a young, selfish, gloriously testosterone laden male of his twenties saw that the only team I gave a fuck about was Team Me. Yup. I could be a real douche bag. When I hit thirty, however, something shifted. Literally, overnight, I didn't want to be that man anymore. 

In hindsight, maybe I just connected to my life long burning desire to be part of a team.

In the past ten years, becoming part of a team, romantically, as in a life partnership with a woman, has become very important to me. But, from twenty-five to almost forty, the most important objective of my tender heart was to not get hurt by women, to not get cut deep enough to bleed but an ounce of blood. I looked at love like money:be generous, but always keep enough of it in the bank so that, if she bolted, I would be just fine. I literally wouldn't skip a beat.

That came at a cost, yes, but I was not ready for the kind of intimacy that my heart desired. I was not ready to seek what I most wanted. So I had a lot of fun. And broke a lot of hearts. 

Life has a magical way of balancing the scales, however. Right after I opened myself up to just how important becoming part of a team was, in the most rewarding yet emotionally vulnerable of arenas (an intimate romantic relationship), I got a dose of what I had been protecting myself from. In the past ten years, since opening up my heart, which is also the time that I started this blog, my heart has been broken, shattered, and otherwise pierced with incendiary projectiles, multiple times. 

But, yet, I keep coming. 

I will always keep coming.

Until I get you. 

Until you get me.

Until We Are A Team. 

My strong and tender heart bleeds for you. I will find you. You will find me. I've learned, that’s how it works.

©2018 Clint Piatelli, MuscleHeart LLC, and Red F Publishing. All rights reserved.

A Love Letter To The Villanova Class of '85

On the day of my graduation….May, something, nineteen-hundred-eighty-five….I vividly recall a seminal moment. There I stood, dressed in my cap and gown, now, officially, a Villanova alumni. It was a whirlwind of activity that day, and yet, I found myself alone for a few moments, just looking around. Amidst all the pomp and circumstance, all the smiles and hugs, all the joy and celebration, I felt a brief but very intense wave of melancholy, of mild panic, sweep over me.

My mind heard itself say, “You have made so many special friends over the last four years. You are returning to Boston. Most of your loved ones now live in New Jersey, in Philadelphia, in New York. Will you ever see them again? Will you ever be in their lives again? Will you ever feel them like this, again?” 

In 1985, the world seemed a lot bigger than it does now. There were no cellphones. There was no internet. No email. No social media. And the word “Blog” would have sounded like a Marvel Super Villain.

Well. Here we are. Almost thirty-fucking-five years later. And guess what? I feel you.

Our class is special. Don’t exactly know why. Don’t exactly even care why. I just know, Sure as Shit, That It Is. And I’m aware that a lot of you know it too.

We have learned hard lessons. We have struggled with mental and emotional illness, addiction, and nervous breakdowns. We have born the crushing grief of losing several of our beloved classmates far too early. We have lost parents; many of whom were familiar and cherished by those of us not blood through birth, but blood through love. We have endured the excruciating pain of seeing our spouses, even our children, die. We have endured bankruptcies, lawsuits, and being stabbed in the back by family and friends. 

We openly bear loneliness, insecurity, self-doubt, and debilitating fear. We go through the seemingly unbearable heartaches of divorce, of betrayal, of break-ups with partners we wanted to spend the rest of our life with. We have reluctantly yet courageously drank from the cup of agony and despair.; we have willingly guzzled from the overflowing stein of ecstasy and joy. We have enjoyed the quiet and priceless moments of sitting with our families, with each other, and doing absolutely nothing; just being. 

We have shared countless moments of Off The Fuckin’ Charts Fun, Merriment, Revelry, and Mayhem. We do business together, supporting each other’s livelihood. Our children hang together. We have lived together, broken bread together, drank together, slept together, and fought along side one another. We have bled for each other, taken bullets for each other, and had each other’s backs so many times we could tell a stranger about every beautiful blemish, scar, and sweet curve of each other’s backsides. 

A few years ago, one of our classmates paid me quite possibly the most precious and endearing compliment I have ever had the honor of receiving. She said to me, “Clint, you are the beating heart of our class”.

Wow. That was like an emotional Academy Award. It was distinction amidst a sea of those of distinction.

That said, I have, in my life, been a liar, a cheat, a scoundrel, a thief. I have shit where I have eaten. I have fucked around on my girlfriends and I have slept with married women. I have hurt and scarred people with my words and with my actions, both deliberately and unintentionally. I have been passive aggressive, and just plain motherfucking aggressive. I have at times consciously and purposely worked at being the biggest dickhead I possibly could; sometimes just too get a rise. I have at times been lazy, greedy, foolish, gluttonous, and way too full of pride. I have had opportunities laid at my feet and pissed all over them. I sometimes feel as though I have not lived up to my potential; that I was given so very much, and did not fully capitalize on those gifts and blessings. Sometimes I feel the scorching burn that, despite my cavalcade of unique experiences, my life is ultimately not worth much; that I do not measure up; that I have not, nor ever will be, what I would consider “Successful”. 

I have physically and emotionally hurt myself, and beaten myself up without mercy, because I didn’t believe I was worth anything more than pain. I have lashed out when I should have shut up, and shut up when I should have said something.

I am not proud of these transgressions. But neither am I ashamed. There have been times in my life when I would have seen myself as a horrible human being for these less than stellar moments. Today, however, I just see myself as being human because of them. 

I have made amends, still have more to make, and will continue to do so for the rest of my life. Loosely paraphrasing Elton John, “I’m sorry” has never been my hardest words; “I love myself” has been. 

Thankfully, I’ve been blessed with an innate desire, with a born of flesh obsession, to throw myself out there; to lay it down; to blaze an ever revealing path of my own sometimes half-baked design; to unabashedly share who I am - in all its naked glory and occasional madness. That has always just felt right to me; in my bones, in my heart, in my soul. It’s always made sense. I didn’t have to talk myself into it. It felt natural. Like breathing. That sort of living inspires some, and horrifies others. And, I’m, like, so okay with that.

Winning our third title was the Vanilla-Nova icing on an already giant, scrumptious, delicious, beautiful Oreo peanut butter cake. Topped with gallons of Oreo peanut butter ice cream.

I don’t care where I am. I don’t even care what happens. As long as I am with all of you.

Whenever I need a dose of unconditional love, I join my Villanova tribe. The gratitude I feel, the fullness of my heart and soul by your company, the emotions that well up in me, the feeling of being so truly blessed, so deeply loved, routinely brings me to tears in my private moments. I often cry in private. Because I can’t always tame the male macho demons of doing so in public. Nevertheless, I want You to know that You move me. All the time. Often beyond words.

I have lived a life, I continue to live a life, that many would envy. A truly blessed existence. I have so many positively amazing people who love me very much, and who I love very much as well. Who could ask for more? When I can get out of my own shit, drop down deep into myself and truly know all of that on a cellular level, there is nothing in this universe that can put but a dent in the splendor of that moment, in the magic of that day. 

Countless times during my pilgrimage to San Antonio, I heard, “Clint, we were so concerned about you. We have followed your journey, and we are pulling for you,”. The amount of support, care, affection, and love that I have received from all of you; from the first days we met, to the moment you heard me out cry out for help, to the moment I saw the last of you leave San Antonio, would fill a million hearts. Mine is positively bursting.

You continue to feed me when I am hungry, shelter me when I am cold, pick me up when I fall, wipe the blood off of my face when it scrapes the ground, and dress my wounds. You hug me when I am lonely, wipe away my tears, and love me most when I need it most. Simply put, You help me live. You do nothing less than give me life. If I have given you but a fraction of what you have given me, I would consider my life a deafening, louder than fuck success. 

If I shine, it is because you are willing to see the dazzling reflection of your own divinity. If I burn hot, and loud, and radiantly, it is because you generously stoke the fuel of my flame. If I am a bright light, it is because you shine yourself onto me.

Whatever We Are, We Are Because of Each Other.

                         - Superfly Clint, April 4, 2018

I Want A Woman Too

I want a woman

Who’s body is supple and tight

Who’s luscious skin I could kiss all night

Who knows I love to bite

And fuckin’ A that’s All Right

I want a woman

Who loves to tickle my back

Because of how it makes me relax

She laughs ‘cuz I go into a trance 

And knows never to do it during romance

Because I’ll fall asleep on her

One-Hundred percent chance

I want a woman

Who loves when I worship her feet

Who’s toes are little and sweet

Who’s heels are as juicy as meat

Who I’ll always pedicure as a treat

Who’s instep, ball, and arches I will eat

I want a woman

Who’s intelligence stimulates me

Who thinks I’m as smart as can be

We find each other’s mind sexy

I want a woman

Who makes me laugh and sing

Who digs all of my bling

Who’s bell I will constantly ring

She’s My Queen

I’m Her King

I want a woman

Who doesn’t want a family

I’m enough of a kid already

And as a matter of fact so is she

I want a woman who gets 

When a song comes on that moves my heart

I have to sing, no matter where we are

She gives me that space

Doesn’t think I’m a head case

Because she knows

Only Music and Her can bring me to that place

I want a woman

Who gets turned on when she sees me play drums

So much so that she practically comes

I want a woman

Who’s lives we mutually complete

Who can cook ‘cuz we both love to eat

Not only food but each other

A very passionate lover

Who’ll experiment under the covers

And treat me like no other

I want a woman

Who loves the way I smell

Who sniffs me and goes under a spell

She does the same for me

It’s one reason I fell

So madly in love with her 

    - SuperFly Clint

I Want A Woman

I want a woman

Who Loves It when I call her a girl

Who makes my whole life a whirl

Who’s heart is a tapestry to unfurl

I want a woman

Who will camp out naked and alone in the desert with me

And not be afraid, you see

Because she knows I will fight to the death for thee

I want a woman

Who will gaze at the stars all night

And let me teach her about the wonder of light

Who will always put up a little fight

When I go to tie her up tight

I want a woman

Who can’t get enough of my touch

Who doesn’t think I’m too much

Who comes through for me in the clutch

I want a woman

Who is as curious as a child

Who’s heart is free and wild

Who's mind is completely unbridled

By the bullshit of a world beguiled

I want a woman

Who stares at me and asks

“Please take off your mask”

“I’m not gonna judge you, I’m only gonna Love You”

“No matter how hard that task.”

I want a woman

Who can handle all that I express

Who is crazy about my caress

Who’s heart I make fluoresce

Who I feel safe to confess

All that causes me distress 

All that makes my life a mess

 I won’t settle for anything less

Ever

Neither should you

    - Clint Piatelli, Tuesday, March 20, 2018