A Book is Born…

Or at least, inseminated…

Okay folks, this may be officially my laziest blog post yet.

A writer-friend of mine as well as my beloved Tricia encouraged me to start writing a book.

Yes, the wisdom of these fine people must surely be questioned because isn’t it bad enough I spew my salacious soliloquys online?

Well, young Bucky, I thank you for your concern and kindly ask you to mind your own damned business…

I’m a mission from God, goddammit!

And speaking of young Bucky…

The Book.

My first book henceforth shall be known as Darth Vader

And don’t call me Shirley either…


The book shall be called (is called, but it’s not written yet) Letters to Bucky – From Confusion to Evolution.

Rather than explain what the hell that means, I am simply going to copy and paste the book’s introduction below for your reading (dis)pleasure.

So, it’s not really laziness…

It’s more like a form of self-plagiarism and self-promotion sprinkled with a little accountability for flavor.

I’ve only written the intro and who knows where the hell the book will go…

I’m super excited to write it, am having fun doing it, and believe this is the next step for thriving beyond trauma for yours truly.

So clear you palate, kneel down, and open up for a teaser of what’s to come…

Bon appetit!

I present to you the beginning of a new era… (if I humbly say so myself)

Note: Disregard the bullshit about the font below because I couldn’t figure out how to make WordPress match the Google Docs formatting I used.

Yes, I spent more than five minutes trying to make a letter A look different…

Say hi to Bucky for me!

And So It Begins..

And… Go!

That’s the closest I can come up with to a starting point for this book… A book which I have not written yet.  However, I do have a big fancy “A” in the beginning so that’s something.  It’s in “Lobster” font, too.  Never heard of it, but I like it.  It looks official… and snappy.

And the “A” is in 26 point font… So that’s a double 13!

Yes, gird your loins for plenty o’ cheesy puns and 13 references in the following pages of semi-factual, self-revealing letters to Bucky.

Perhaps, these things will make more sense to you (and me) later.

More shall be revealed…

But before we get too far ahead of ourselves, you may be asking yourself, “Who is Bucky?”  Or maybe you’re wondering, “How did I end up in this padded cell holding this book?”

Excellent questions, curious reader!

The good news (is there really good or bad news?) is… Allow me to rephrase that.  The news is I may or may not actually answer your inquisitive inquiries [yes, brace yourself for gloriously repetitive redundancies—it’s kind of my gig].


I have yet to title this section because I’m not sure if it’s a preface, prologue, or introduction.  Why limit ourselves with labels at this point, right?

I know it’s not a forward because supposedly, someone else who has read and liked this book will write that.  And since no one has read this unwritten book (except God… dun, Dun, DUN), this shall not be the forward.  Perhaps, someday a forward will exist, but heretonow, none shall pass…

Oh yeah, I will probably get sued for many-a-pop-culture references as a lot of my life seems to have been formed by TV, music, and movies (in no particular order).

Oh, and I tend to meander and digress tangentially (yes, more redundancies) on this pilgrimage of writing.

It could be undiagnosed ADHD or the (past) use of psychedelics, but I prefer to think of it (my cascading thoughts/writing style) as akin to Dr. Evil’s (yes, THE Dr. Evil) description: “The sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament.”

So, in a word (or many at this point), welcome!

Ah yes, there was a reason for writing this labeless beginning…

Oh!  That’s it!

Who the hell is Bucky, and why the fuck am I writing this?

Yes, I do use profanity… quite a fucking lot of it.

That’s what this section is…

I’m giving you all of the reasons you should not read this book.

Perhaps you’ve already discovered them on your own and haven’t even made it to the second page?


Are you still there?

[tap, tap] Is this mic even on?

You know.. The imaginary mic I’m using as I type to my imaginary audience.


Fuck it!

I’m here, and we’re gonna talk about Bucky, goddammit!

Well, I’m going to write and maybe someone is going to read about Bucky.

Yes… Bucky.

That motherfucker!

I do mean that in the nicest way possible.


Bucky, Bucky, Bucky…

The concept (or person) of Bucky comes from a line I stole from a movie I cannot remember.  Otherwise, I would gladly reference it.

The line is brief.

And it isn’t even a full line.

Somewhere, someone finished a sentence or included the words, “young Bucky” in the middle of a sentence.

I’m thinking the intention was somewhere between condescending and as a term of endearment.

Maybe it was Chevy Chase?

That sounds like something he’d say…

Nonetheless, I have become quite fond of addressing my audience and myself as young Bucky whilst writing in my blog.

Oh yeah, there’s a blog, too.

And really, that’s where the idea for this book came from.

I have been writing a blog about my own personal journey of thriving beyond trauma.

The blog is rife with examples of coping with and thriving beyond the effects of trauma, mental health challenges, codependency, and addiction.

Not to mention (except I am mentioning it), an exorbitant amount of “That’s what she said” gifs and other memes and such I feel punctuate my points (which as you can probably tell by now, my points digress and meander).

As I felt the creative juices flowing (they taste like Bang Energy drinks—watermelon flavor), the seed which is now germinating and growing into this book took root (and other tree metaphors).

While my life’s story is certainly not spectacular, writing my blog for the last few months has revealed to me some folks relate to my tales.

And it is through the power of story where we connect as human beings.

The shared journey bridges the chasms between us.

When we relate, we remember our humanness and cease to flip each other off on the freeway… or at least less so.

Human connection is paramount to anything I can think of (besides Divine Purpose), but we’ll get into that (possibly) later in this book.

Ah fuck it!

Let’s get into that right now!

I believe that my lived experience and insights are gifts to be shared so that others may relate and feel better about themselves.

Sure, you may relate, or you may think, “Geez, this fucker is fucked up!”

Nonetheless, I grabbed onto the idea (or it grabbed me—that’s what she said) that through sharing my story, I can help people heal.

I know this because I have begun my “hero’s journey” by listening to and relating to others’ stories.

I hope what I write helps someone.

That’s my Divine Purpose… I call it my Sacred Calling.

And yes, I’ll expound upon that in a future chapter that hopefully I’ll follow through and eventually write.

So, again, David… What the hell does Bucky have to do with this?


Thank you for reminding me.

This book shall be formatted as letters to Bucky (hence the title).

It’s my intention to write letters to Bucky from various stages of my life.

And yes, Bucky shall serve as not only my imaginary friend, my conscience, my inner-child, my inner-critic, or whatever serves me literally as I make this shit up.

I mean, most of it will be based in fact.

But as you read on, you’ll soon discover, especially at certain points in my life, the person in the chapter (me) is not actually able to write a letter to Bucky (why will be obvious as you read on).

I’m hopeful Bucky sheds some insight, hope, direction, and compassion as we meander down this path of self-revelation.

So, sit back.


Grab your favorite beverage (no judgment) and fur-baby (to hold, not drink), and step into the wild world of Letters to Bucky: From Confusion to Evolution.


What’d ya think?

Maybe reserve your judgement for after I write (and you buy/read) the whole book.

I, for one, am very excited to write this book.

For me, the joy of artistic expression lies in the creative process.

This book, although it’s for me, is also for any poor soul whom may relate.

I feel very alive and like I am… how do you say? Thriving like a motherfucker when I am in the flow of furiously tapping away at the keyboard!

This book shall be a labor of love and fun.

Thank you for reading…

And until next time, I bid you adieu.

Be well 🙂

Blah, blah, blah… yackety-yak… you know the rest. Show some initiative, read my shit, tell me you read it somehow, and we shall live happily ever after…

You know how to find me…

And I know how to find YOU.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: