Saturday, June 17, 2017

Open Letter To Michelle Carter

Dear Michelle,

I read your story. I read about your conviction. I wish I could say I was sorry you were found guilty but I am not. Actually, I am relieved you will be punished to some degree because I find you repulsive and disgusting on so many levels. Worthless is more of what I was shooting for. Conrad Roy III was a person who had his whole future ahead of him and you manipulated and coaxed him to throw it away. Shame on you. What gives you the power to do that?

Looking at you, I wonder what kind of power you had over the poor boy anyway. You are marginal looking at best. Your eyes have this dead, soulless look. When you walk by you don't strike me as someone who has one bit of remorse, other than that this might interfere with your life and quest to be popular. Your eyebrows are hideous. Oh, and you look like you escaped from the TV series Girls, but they probably cut you because you weren't the least bit interesting. Just another whiny white troubled teenager with problems.

I will be the first to defend free speech. You cannot make someone do something unless a gun is put to their head. Then again, even in that instance one can choose to die. No one can make you feel any way. I get that. But this young man wanted to kill himself. It was no secret he was struggling with suicidal depression. You didn't call 911. You told him to get back in the car. Night after night he talked about wanting to die. You didn't tell an adult about Conrad's plans. Instead, you told him to stop talking about it and take action.

There is no word to describe your egoism, hubris and outright evil.

You listened with glee as he died.

I get that at times he wasn't the best company. People with psych issues who are not properly medicated never are. But if you called 911 maybe he could have finally gotten the help he needed. Maybe Roy's family would have taken it seriously. Maybe Conrad would have gotten the meds he needed along with the therapy.

MAYBE IF YOU DECIDED YOU WEREN'T THE BOATMAN ON THE RIVER STYX WHO TOOK MATTERS INTO HER OWN HANDS YOU TRIFLING BITCH!

Oh and you even told him how much carbon monoxide would kill him. With friends like you along with a severe mental illness, Conrad Roy III had no need for enemies.

FYI, I know how it is to be in a relationship with someone who's mentally ill. I get how painful it is when they won't get help let alone be medicated. I can tell you first hand how incredibly draining the experience is, managing their symptoms on your own and defending your partner to a world that can't let alone won't understand.

I have been in instances where my former partner was not only a danger to himself but me. His breaks with reality were getting worse. To add to the cocktail, he self medicated with drugs and alcohol. Instead of coaxing him to relapse or take his own life, I walked away. It wasn't an easy decision, but it was between him and my peace of mind. If Conrad got to be too much you should have walked away.

Let me tell you, I am no fan of my former partner. Mentally ill people do things that aren't kind. They lie. They steal. They cause chaos and conflict. Unfortunately their sickness is one where they not only bring down themselves but others. While my ex cannot safely be a part of my life, if I found out he was about to kill himself I would still call 911.

It's not because I love him or cherish him. But he is a father. A brother. An uncle. A friend. While he might not be in my life, his life is still worth something. And my hope still is, even as he is homeless and back on drugs, that he gets the help he needs and is properly medicated someday.

On a more personal note, a friend of mine helped me get the nerve to write again after a rough time in my life. He battled bipolar disorder and ultimately took his own life. I am about to release a second book, and my friend is not here with me which makes me sick. You talked Conrad Roy III into taking his own life, and if I could take a time machine I would have talked my friend out of taking his.

My friend meant a great deal and helped a lot of people. Yet he could not help himself. His sister's, years later, are not over the loss of someone who was a baby brother and uncle. Conrad Roy III's family will never be over his loss. They will not forget about it. And now the world will not forget about him either.

Was your sentence fair? On an ethical level yes. On a free speech level, that is still murky. Ironically you wanted to be popular. Well now you are the most hated woman on the internet. We all hate you. Trust me, no one likes you. No one.

There will be plenty of parties in prison where you will be going that you will not be invited to. You're the most hated woman in America. At least they had the nerve to murder people for real there. You were so pathetic you had to do it over the phone. Conrad Roy was sick and desperate, and in you he met evil.

I would tell you to kill yourself because you are worthless. Yet that would be stooping to your level. And if you wanted to kill yourself I would talk you out of it. Not because it would make me feel important or that the world would be lesser without you, but because it is the right thing to do.

It's because I am a semi-decent human being who does the right thing. A lot of us are out there. Hopefully your sentence, however long or short that is, will transform you into one too.

Love
April


The Lady and President Tramp
Wednesday June 21, 7pm
The Duplex
61 Christopher Street













Monday, June 12, 2017

New and Exciting

I know I haven't blogged in a while. It has been a mix of a lot of things. One is March saw a lot of death. I lost 2 people I knew to cancer in a week. One was a Las Vegas Director friend who helped me shoot a pilot. The other was a comedy club manager who gave me faith and food when I had none.

Then I had the stomach flu and work was insane. I didnt have a morning to sleep in let alone a moment to myself. Not to mention winter was like the party guest who wouldn't leave. You know, the annoying idiot who's boyfriend never lets her talk and now we know why? Oh and she kept double dipping which was so gross.

And then there was the rain. Yes, the rain was the downer party guest who probably worked in publishing that went to a preppy backup school that had a chip on her shoulder that she didn't get into Brown or her parents couldnt afford NYU. She not only just stayed with winter, but just had something negative to say the entire time.

YUCK!

Then of course I have been writing two books. More on that later. When you are writing a book, that mission is your book. It's like you are Rambo back from Vietnam dodging the cops. Except I do not have his prowess let alone emotional problems. Rambo is hot. He would be a good looking mistake.

God I have had too many of those in my life and times. But two books, does that make me more macho than Chuck Norris?

Anyway, I have an awesome show at the Duplex on June 21. It's my show The Lady and President Tramp. We have Donald J. Tramp. We have Kellyanne Oneway, Mexican President Don Juan De Casanova De Gorgita, Mike Dispence, supporters, protesters, and even a weirdo named Vlad that calls.

I have been working steadily on my show and am so proud of all I have done. Two my life was a lot different, and not in a way that was productive. If you want to know what I have been through, read my previous blogs. Either way, I am grateful for all I have today.

(God/Goddess is good, all the time)

The tickets are available here https://www.purplepass.com/index.php#157539/The_Duplex-The_Lady_and_President_Tramp_-__April_Brucker-The_Duplex_Cabaret_Theatre-June-21-2017.html

And if you plan on coming to surprise me, the address is 61 Christopher Street. Stalkers welcome.

Either way, I am closing this post with my photo of the week. Someone said I looked like Belle from Beauty and the Beast before their big outing. Now if I am the beauty, who will be my beast. Tear me up, Buttercup. MWAH!


And before I forget, moment of silence for those lost in the Pulse Nightclub Shooting. One year has passed and it is still difficult. Saw the memorial last year at Pride and I thought I was going to vomit. 



Friday, March 31, 2017

Jesus Freak (DC Talk)

This past election season I have received a lot of hate mail from The Christian Right. These men and women of God have told me to kill myself, that I deserved cancer in some instances, and even that I should die for blaspheming a man of God. (Donald Trump was that man of God).

Yesterday I got into a bit of a twitter war with right wing nut job and blogger Matt Walsh. In case you didn't know, you and Jesus would probably hate Matt. Jesus was a liberal Jew who embraced all people. Matt is an anti-Jewish, anti-gay, and anti-woman bigot. Matt is also pro-life, because why would someone so tolerant hold any other view. He blogs for The Blaze, which is where all bigoted, closed minded, fearful morons like himself flock. Apparently he is popular. That is, popular with those who can't read.

As a matter of fact, some of the brave men and women, especially the ones with the KKK avatars, follow Matt. Color me surprised.

I was first introduced to this ass clown via his facebook page. It was filled with hate of course. His followers believe all Muslims stone women and are traitors. They are all pro-lifers who want to cut social programs for single mothers whilst they terrorize women in crisis. They believe being gay and transgendered are choices, and LGBTQ people commit suicide as a cheap ploy for attention. One even went on a limb to say that rape wasn't real. Nice people. I trolled him a few times because it was fun, but gave up the ghost because it was no use. You can't fix stupid.

So yesterday the controversy began. Mike Pence apparently is not allowed to dine alone with another woman, and his wife is not allowed to dine alone with another man. WOW, Telling your significant other who they can and can't talk to. Looks like unhealthy codependency to me. Take it from someone like myself who has experienced DV.

Matt of course defended Mike Pence. Why would Matt not? He clearly knows how to treat a woman by keeping her barefoot and pregnant on his alpaca farm. Matt stated all healthy married couples didn't dine alone with members of the opposite sex. Nevermind if it was a boss or a work colleague. Or a childhood plutonic friend. Or the husband or wife of one of your friends. No. Sex was going to happen.

I told Matty McMatt Matt he was as qualified to talk about a healthy marriage as I was moon rocks. His followers, who probably chew moon rocks and wonder why they are crunchy, informed me moon rocks were not complicated. I guess that's why we have NASA because space is simple and rocket science, well that's a breeze.

Then I tweeted about combating codependency and Matt told me if I had to combat codependency then it was clear I wasn't good at marriage. Well Sherlock Holmes, while I have been in two LTRs I am not married. I told him I thanked my pagan Goddess for my freedom, because if the men on the market were like him I was screwed. Matt tweeted two asinine tweets back. Because he's stupid like that. I told him by his metric that because he was tweeting to a woman that wasn't his wife, he was having an affair. Others even came to my rescue to tell the sexually repressed Matt Walsh to stop flirting with me.

Needless to say his followers were even stupider than he was. They told me I was unsuccessful because I was single and childless, when meanwhile their marriages are so successful as they aren't allowed to talk to other people without their spouse's permission. Others also defended codependency as a good, loving thing.

Codependency is NEVER a good loving thing. Codependency kept me with a partner who was physically abusive because I believed I somehow deserved it. Codependency kept me with a mentally ill partner who, while he had a heart of gold, was irreversibly broken because of his refusal to comply with a medication regimen. Yeah, I had a role. But codependency is never a good thing. Domestic violence sometimes ends with someone dying. So when someone refuses to take meds, has violent mood swings, abuses drugs or hits you, RUN LIKE YOU SAW GODZILLA.

When I explained to someone I left because a partner was abusive, she told me I deserved to be hit. Yes, a woman of God. A church goer. YIKES!

So I lost it. I told her she was a cunt.

She responded back by telling me that I dissed the sacred institution of marriage and therefore I deserved what I got.

Yes, nice woman.

So I told her that her telling me I deserved DV was like me telling her she deserved a sick child. Needless to say seconds later, twitter blocked me.

I was in twitter jail for 12 hours. Ha ha ha.

Today Matt Walsh posted and called someone a bigot. It was a tale of the pot and the kettle. While fighting with him would have been fun, it is also a waste of time because he will always be a steaming ball of hate.

And one of his followers who reported me to twitter messaged me to let me know he did it. Now is that what Jesus would do?

Needless to say, I had a chat with a buddy who's son has severe autism and is a woman of God. She told me people who quote scriptures like that are actually from the devil and not God, which I found interesting and actually believable on a strange level. She also said evil was cowardly.

Yes, like the Matt Walsh's and his followers, so free to hate behind a keyboard and such mice in person. Cowards.

My friend also pointed out Jesus wasn't a coward. Jesus not only helped the poor, he helped the lepers, the HIV/AIDS patients of the era. He helped the widows and the people on the fringes. He helped those Matt Walsh condemns. Jesus died because he spoke out on behalf of social justice and told the truth. Jesus was brave.Jesus didn't need to hide behind a keyboard.

 These people claim to know so much yet they know so little.

That being said, I hope they all find peace, serenity, and come to know a higher power that loves them as well as anyone else.

www.AprilBrucker.TV










Wednesday, March 22, 2017

It Gets Better

A year ago I was ready to quit show business. I was uninspired and just all around burnt out. Life had been one blow after another.

For starters, a living situation I had been with for nearly ten years went up in utter smoke. I had tried so hard to hold on to that apartment and then one day it was gone. As I was leaving I remember feeling this strange mix of relief and failure. Relief that I wouldn't be sick over a living situation, but failure because despite my efforts I still lost.

Then a relationship with a mentally ill partner ended. It was also a mix of relief and failure. It was relief, because his mood swings were becoming more and more unpredictable and I was feeling more and more unsafe. It was failure because the relationship ended because of a lie he told, and therefore I wasn't good enough for the truth. It was failure because once again I lost a man.

The career had been a miasma of successes and disappointments. I lost two national campaigns for stupid reasons. I lost a nomination to a well-respected organization because of my past as a reality star. I lost a grant for a stupid reason too, paperwork.

But I became a union member. I also got press everywhere but the US for my puppets. And a short film I did puppet work for was nominated for a top award. It even looked like I was going to tour Europe and that fell through like a trap door.

Was the universe telling me to stay or go? Hell if I knew.

My new life was like a dark forest where I was alone, unsure, and struggled to find my place. Each step onstage bored the hell out of me. I had paid the ultimate price to follow my dreams. Were my dreams even worth it? It seemed if anything my dreams caused me a lot of disappointment and heartache.

Over the years, I had friends who left the business because they got sick of the bullshit. Many did it on a smaller scale. Some gave it up altogether. They got married and had kids. They told me how much more fulfilled they were. I had some success. I had been on TV. Maybe I had my fun and it was time to be a normal person.

However, you have plans and the universe laughs. This career has a funny way of picking you, and if it's meant it also has an even stranger way of not letting you go.

I was set to quit when I got invited to do a fallout date for a headliner after he had a nervous breakdown and needed to be replaced. I figured I would tank out, get paid,and this would determine whether or not I continued in comedy.

Yes I tanked. It was horrendous. Maybe it was time to quit after all. However, I met a club owner who had different ideas. Not only was he honest to the point of being brutal, but he was helpful. I left the trip not only rebounding for my next two shows (I killed it) but I left feeling like an asshole. My crime hadn't been being knocked down. It was staying down.

So I got back up, ordered a puppet stand, and started working like a real professional. I pounded stage time like I did years before I had any TV credits. I didn't care if it was an open mic or bar show, for the first time in forever I just wanted to be good. I didn't even care what the outcome was, I was just enjoying the journey and the process for the first time in my life.

My puppetry grew leaps and bounds as did my ventriloquism. So did the opportunities. I got to go to Cleveland with Donald J. Tramp and lead a protest. I also got to perform in Las Vegas. I performed a one woman show at a showcase. I covered the debate with my lil puppet president, too.

Currently some good things are in the works. This Sunday I teach my first ventriloquism class. It's at QED Astoria 3/26 from 2-4.

I am also reading Paul Winchell and can tell you that there is more I need to be doing, but again it is a journey.

I am working on a new book.

I feel hopeful about the future.

Sometimes, when life sucks you need to take a bath, get rid of the bad shit, and keep going.

Yes, it gets better. But only if you let it.















Tuesday, March 14, 2017

Zeke

When I was 22, I was fascinated by bad boys. Hell, I still kind of am. Anyway, what I think looks dead sexy on a dude is a tattoo, but I dug them even more then. That is what led me to Zeke.

Handsome with pitch black tar colored hair that stuck on his head, Zeke looked like he escaped from New Found Glory or one of those emo bands with band boys that talked way too much about their feelings. He was red hot, dead hot, leave you single and pregnant hot. Zeke had arms covered in all sorts of tats that talked about his travels. His body art was incredible. I remember asking him about it when I met him on the street corner.

Zeke was 25 to my 22. We talked about life. He was from Florida. His dad was dead and his mom was remarried. Zeke hated his stepdad. Young, angry, misunderstood. My love and infatuation would change him.

I asked Zeke what he did for money. He told me he was a tattoo artist. I was fascinated and impressed. I used to subtly stalk Zeke, hanging around his tattoo shop. We would usually hang out afterwards, and he walked me home a few times. And then he kissed me.

IT WAS THE BEST KISS EVER! YUM, YUM, BOW WOW!!!!!

Okay, it was the kind of kiss that said codependent, terrible mistake. Rumor was that he had a drug habit but they had no proof. They said he had been arrested. That didn't deter me. I was a woman in love.

Zeke and I were getting more serious. At least I hoped because he was HOOOOOOTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT. However, God has a habit of doing for us what we cannot do for ourselves. Zeke had no cellphone because it was expensive, and he had no address. A constant couch surfer, Zeke had to move at least once every other week when his friend who was being generous was going to kick him out. Young and stupid, I was more pissed he never asked me than the fact he perpetually never had his shit together.

Needless to say, because he had no phone or address, it became tough to keep track of Zeke. Finally, he was fired from the tattoo parlor for being himself. Since he had no phone I had no idea of where to find him. He had social media, but was never on there really.

I lost track of Zeke.

Bummer because he was HOOOOOOOOTTTTTTTTTT.....

But alas, hot isn't everything. 

Tuesday, March 7, 2017

Goat Sex: A New York Story

When I was 20, I found myself alone in Midtown near 8/9 Avenues and with money in my pocket. It was from a summer job I worked as a lifeguard where my mother employed me. Up to that point in my life, I was actually a good little Catholic girl from Bethel Park, a small town outside of Pittsburgh. Translated, I didn't talk about sex let alone think about it. Sex was yucky, yucky, yucky.

I found myself in Midtown. My errand was to get sheet music for my singing class. Each week we had to have a new song, and I had class later that day and had dragged my feet on the errand. I got my sheet music and was on my way back to the train when my mind got the best of me lets just say.

Prior to that I made vanilla look flavorful. I was from an area where girls saved themselves for marriage and at that juncture in my life I planned to do the same. Many of my high school classmates even wore promise rings, because anal doesnt count as we all know. Some of my male classmates who took the pledge have come out as gay but that's a different story. They promised not to have sex......with girls. Again, anal doesn't count, right?

Sex Ed at my school was a joke. We had Abstinence Education which teaches you to wait. It doesnt work. My school had the highest instance of teen pregnancy in the area. So fellas, maybe I didn't know how to put a condom on but knew how to put a baby in a dumpster. But it was okay if I hit the Bible Study some religious zealot teacher was having during lunch. Or dodged the Christian youth group leader who wandered my cafeteria looking for fresh blood and lost souls. Needless to say, he was later jailed for having sex with under-aged boys. Big surprise......

My college classmates were much more sexually savvy and were from much more liberal areas. At times this made me feel stupid, insecure, and outright lonely. Was I less sophisticated because I didn't slut around with some boy.......wait that was her steady in the backseat of that Buick. Was I less worthy of being taken seriously because I wasn't as experienced? Did it make me a bad person to tell some guy that I could fuck him and say someday I did when he became a rockstar to jump off a cliff?

Hell if I knew. Either way, there were times I felt like a wandering vestal virgin and the men around me were outright predators willing to torture me and con sex. However, they were just as awkward and unsure as I was looking back. And a lot of people were coming out. No one knew the answers. Funny how hindsight is 20/20.

As I neared the subway on 8th I saw a porn store. I had a few hours to kill but not enough time to go back downtown where my dorm was so I went in. Why not? What could possibly go wrong?

I wandered in and saw racks and racks of porn movies. Some were straight on male/female porn. Others were gang bangs. Then there was the tranny porn. Of course this was next to the Thai tranny porn because some folks are into foreign trannies. An entire section was dedicated to midget porn which was borderline disturbing. Then there was the gay porn. Next to the lesbian porn. Porn was much more diverse than I ever imagined, that was for sure.

The store itself was interesting. The lingerie was actually quite appealing, but I had no where to wear it and no one to wear it for. The shoes were also neat, stripper heals that were at least five inches. I too had no where to wear these and they were $80.

In between was lube, condoms, dildos, butt plugs, and the vibrator. Looking back, a vibrator would have probably been a better investment than the latter. But I had no clue what to do with any of these things.

As I ascended the stairs I came across some peep show booths. Standing near them was an Indian dude who looked at me like I had two heads when I asked if I could enter as long as I paid my fifty cents. He asked me if I was sure and I told him I was. In my utter state of ignorant I didn't realize guys jacked off in there, and as a girl I didn't choke the chicken and get my little Johnny Appleseeds all over the place like they did. Hell, I might have been the first woman he ever saw come in..........What a dubious honor.

He let me in anyway. As long as my money is good, right?

Once I got into the booth there were several screens I could choose from that were being live streamed.

The first screen was a guy and a girl having sex. They weren't particularly good or bad looking. Actually, they looked like ordinary people. No one wants to see ordinary people having sex so I passed.

The next was two girls getting down and dirty with a dildo. They were two hot blondes so you knew this was designed for a straight man. After a few seconds I had seen the whole thing.

The screen after was two dudes having rough anal. This was intense and athletic. But I also felt like the dudes would feel weirded out by me watching. However, some of the promise ring wearing dudes from my old high school are probably watching now but that's a different story.

Then the screen after that was a midget orgy. While this was unique and the midgets were committed to truth in their role of having sex with Gulliver (a Gulliver's travels themed fuck fest) I felt further watching would destroy memories of Santa's Elves, Snow White, and The Wizard of Oz for reasons we all understand.

The last screen was the one that I will never forget. It was a girl having sex with a goat. And the goat was giving it to get doggy style and standing on it's hind legs.

SHE WAS GETTING FUCKED BY A GOAT! THE GOAT WAS FUCKING HER! SOMEONE CALL PETA NOW! IF THIS WASN'T ANIMAL CRUELTY I DIDN'T KNOW WHAT WAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

As if that wasn't enough, to add insult to injury, each time her horned horny animal companion thrust his well endowed goat penis into her, she squealed,  "Ee, Ei, Ee, Ei, Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!" Okay, Old McDonald was officially ruined. I could never sing it to my little cousins ever again.

Words could not describe this experience. I was horrified. I was amazed. I was frightened. I was intrigued. I also knew if the super Christians from my hometown knew where I was they would be holding a prayer circle for me around my old high school flag pole. It had been bad enough when I said God gave us a brain therefore I was pro-choice. It had ticked them off when I said a blob of tissue was not a person because there were children dying in Iraq. It further angered them when I said the youth group leader wandering the cafeteria was probably a pedophile and he was. However, we could all still be friendly. This, however, would be the last straw. Jesus could not save me now. Abstinence education never covered this let alone planned for it in the curriculum.

Question to the promise ring wearers was, if anal didn't count, did goats? Oh questions, questions, questions.

As girl and goat were going at it, my phone rang. It was my mom. Oh her timing was impeccable as usual. I was alone in New York and she was freaking out because she hadn't heard from me all day. Oh if she could see me now. I could tell her I discovered Old McDonald's wayward daughter had resorted to beastiality and now I had proof when she asked if anything funny happened to me. Or maybe I would leave that story out........

 Finally, my five minutes ran out. I was no longer curious about the peep show. I think at that point I was good for another 5,10, 15 years. When I exited, I called my mom back.  She wanted to know how my day went. I told her I was getting sheet music for class, which was true. It's why I was in Midtown. I didn't tell her about my detour that was still making me blush.

When I got home that evening, I took a long shower and kept the story to myself for many years. It's not one you just tell people without them shaming you or asking a shit ton of questions. Looking back I should have spent my time more wisely that day let alone my money. But young and stupid can be a combination that makes for a good story later on.

And also, having worked in entertainment, I will say this, whoever that director was should be commended. That goat was not only a fabulous actor, but he was VERY WELL TRAINED.









Saturday, March 4, 2017

Different

I was thinking yesterday about life. Everyone talks about where they should be at certain points. I am 32. One of the Academy Award Winning Directors was 32. Eh. Does it make me feel like a loser? Yes and no. Yes, he's my age. No, this might be his first and last Oscar. Life is weird that way. Life is like an hourglass: there are times the sand is on your side. There are times it isn't.

The sand has and hasn't been on my side in the course of a year. In 2015, my story made headlines over the world and it looked like I might tour Europe. Months later, I was forced to move under duress with a broken heart. Point being, is that life changes on a dime for better or for worse for all of us. Granted, my self-esteem took a huge hit and it was like wandering in a dark tunnel. WTF?! Life happened, it just wasn't supposed to happen to me, right?

I am hardly a failure. I have accomplished some of what I wanted. Yet at times I feel like I have fallen short. I think we all feel that way though. Last year I was credentialed press at the debates, a big change from being evicted and having my ex's mentally ill sister threaten me. Then this year began with me showcasing at APAP. I also did my show again, and might be doing a run. I am excited. Big change from last year where I felt burnt out from my ordeal and uninspired.

One thing all this has done is made me more confident. I take the stage in a different way. When I was younger I wanted to be liked. Now I don't give a fuck. It's strange. Then someone has shown interest in repping my show for touring and someone else wants to rep me for other things. Nothing is set is stone yet. Both seem like nice people. Whatever happens happens. I also did some things for some other stuff I am being recruited for. Whatever happens happens. I am not breaking my ass. That's for damn sure. If they want me they know where to find me and if they don't want me they can go fuck themselves. Simple as that.

I am also teaching a ventriloquism class. I am excited. It means I am a master. It means I might be able to teach at conventions. I am excited and honored and love the idea. More on that later.

I am writing another book about my adventures, too.

While sometimes the telegrams are slow, they have been picking up full steam. Rent has been paying itself, God willing. I do not want for much, God willing. Other work will hopefully pick up too, God willing. But whatever I do I will do my best, have fun, and treat each show with dignity and respect.

And as I begin my journey as a Universal Life Minister, I know in some ways the world is ending and we are all fucked because I am Bishop Cardinal Brucker. But I also know I am going to be alright.

I know I am going to be alright

I escaped a bad living situation and a mentally ill partner

I escaped a physically abusive partner and an abusive living situation to boot before all that

I escaped meeting the fate that some of my fellows did.

I was not taken this far to be dropped.

Is life better than I thought it would be at this point? Yes and no. Is life worse? Yes and no. Do I have everything I want? Yes and no. Am I getting what I want? Yes, but no, because it's not as fast as I would like it.

So it's different.

But I am happier and more at peace than I have ever been. No award can put a price on that. Because my mental health is good, I have faith everything else will take care of itself.