So … you’ve come seeking information about Victor D. Infante, have you? Many have come before you, striving to unlock his secrets. Who is he? What does he want? Why is he still wearing that beaten-up leather jacket? All valid questions, but answers have proven elusive. Except for the jacket thing. Really, he’s just cheap.
Few things are certain: He was old when Atlantis was young, they say, and spoken of in Plato’s less-popular writings. Some say that he was really Merlin, or Rasputin, or the guy who was driving when Hunter S. Thompson got lost in Bat Country the first time. Some people say he’s actually Batman, but that would be ridiculous. Batman’s way taller. Some people say he’s the last of the Knights Templar, and holds all the secrets to the Illuminati. Some people really talk a lot after a few drinks.
Despite the Vanity Fair profiles and the time The New York Times followed him around, his past seems lost in a fog of confusion, obfuscation and outright balderdash. Perhaps it was the much derided Weekly World News report that held the truth: That Victor D. Infante is just a poet, journalist and fiction writer who was born in Pittsburgh, raised in Southern California, educated in England and who currently resides with his wife, Lea, and his pet ferrets, Lettie, Rocket & Bumble, in Worcester, Massachusetts, which is a much nicer place than you’d expect.
He is currently the features editor for The Worcester Telegram & Gazette and the editor for Worcester Magazine and Worcester Living Magazine. His poems and short stories have appeared in numerous periodicals, websites and anthologies; his first full-length poetry collection, City of Insomnia, was published by Write Bloody Publishing, and he has recently self-released an ebook of essays and ephemera, Feels Like Failure, Every Time. He is an Aquarius, with all that entails.
Of course, that could all just be alternative-facts. Let’s go with the Illuminati thing. That seems legit.