Joseph Pucci

About the Writer:

Joseph Pucci was born and raised in New York City in the borough of the Bronx. The youngest of four siblings, separated by seven years to his next oldest brother, he grew up essentially an only child. He was well suited for this, even as a young child, he was a loner in many respects. Preferring, often to observe the world around him, rather than participate in it. He often spent months at a time developing imaginary worlds. Within those imaginary worlds, adventures sprung to life, which filled his days and nights with wonder for what would happen next in those worlds. 

He had few close friends growing up, but was always well liked and many would say had a naturally charismatic personality, that exuded leadership qualities. In public, some would even mistake his temperament for outgoing. This was far from the truth, as he was never really comfortable around people and explained this conundrum to simply be his public persona. This might explain his gravitation to the sport of bicycling. He has said, “Cycling not only invigorates the body, but it clears my mind and fills it with new solutions and ideas. Whether on my road bike, gliding through the streets and speeding around curves or on my mountain bike, navigating the woods, rocks and dirt, it always lifts my spirits.”

Joe Pucci

Retired Technical Manager for Xerox

Science, Writing, Science Fiction, Biology, Space Exploration

Dennis Lehane

SubSpace envelop
Altered State
Inner Dimensional Travel
The Realm


He who thinks they know, does not.
He who knows that he does not know, knows.

A Quote from Brother Theodore
Only when you have drank from the
River of Darkness shall you truly see!

Only when your legs have rotted off
shall you truly dance!

Where there is Death, there is hope!

All of our great spiritual leaders are
dead. Moses is dead, Mohammed is dead, Buddha is dead, the Reverend Jim Jones is dead, and I am not feeling so hot myself.

Mostly Movie themes. Different tunes for different scenes.
Jazz, Pop, Rock, Hip-Hop, Classical, it's good.
The Early Years
His school years were difficult as he suffered from undiagnosed dyslexia. As is often the case with dyslexia, Joseph excelled at exploring all things mechanical, while ferreting out the inner patterns which laid hidden to others. His first car was more a vehicle for learning, than a vehicle for traveling. The result, a transformation of a street car into muscle car.
It wasn’t until he began college that his dyslexia was identified by an English professor at LaGuardia Community College, where
Joseph was studying Computer Programming. Discouraged by this news, but undaunted he increased his efforts.
It was not long after this discovery of his dyslexia that he was stricken with walking pneumonia. He had stretched himself too thin. Going to college, while holding down a full time job and running his own Automotive Alarm Installation business, had taken its toll. At the age of twenty, his right lung filled with fluid and collapsed. This should have been a wake up call, but youth often blinds you to mortality. After three hours of writhing in pain on his couch, the lung re-inflated on its own, but this reprieve would not last and his refusal to heed to his condition would alter the path of his life forever.

Soon his coughing would become continuous, preventing him from holding food down and sleeping. Three weeks after the searing pain of the collapsed lung, he would find himself at two doors. The first was the doors of Saint Barnabas Hospital in the Bronx. The other was deaths door. He had lost over fifty pounds and passed out moments after being admitted at the ER. The admitting doctor later commented after seeing Joseph’s chest x-rays, “It astonishing he was walking at all!” He remained in the hospital for three weeks, while demanding of his then, first wife, that nobody but his business partner know of his condition. After his release from the hospital he could no longer keep his illness a complete secrete. He informed his parents that he had been sick, but not of the graveness of his condition.

It took another eight months to recover enough that he could return to his job at the bank at Two World Trade Center in Manhattan.  After only two weeks he was let go with a generous severance package, with a year extension of his health insurance and six month’s salary. Reality was finally setting in that he needed to reassess his decisions. With nothing but time on his hands, since he had no job, he was forced to take incompletes in all of his classes, and the closing of his Automotive Alarm Business, he pondered his path.

Like a forest after a fire, new life would spring forth. After six months of contemplation, he decided this was an opportunity to start over. He would not return to college, but instead would attend a technical school to study electrical theory and computer hardware. This landed him a job in a large tech firm in New York City as a field rep. After one year he was quickly promoted and collected many accolades in the years to come. But, he felt his life was still incomplete. While trying to find what would make him feel complete, he would change many things in his life, including his marital status, his home, friends and hobbies.

Now at the age of thirty two, he again found himself in the midst of transformation. He had found something he had somehow lost, his passion for bicycling. Instead of returning to road riding, mountain biking became his obsession. So much so, that he became very knowledgeable in everything having to do with the activity. In the early days of the internet, before Google, finding information was like an Easter egg hunt, if you got lucky you might find what you were looking for and it might be accurate. Joseph assembled his own website to share what he had learned and found, which in turn led to an offer to write content for a startup company who had a novel idea. A digital magazine that presented articles about product reviews, advice and information on a variety of subjects. Joseph saw it as the perfect opportunity to share his passion, but was unsure whether he could due to his dyslexia. After reassurances by his girlfriend, decided it was a risk worth taking. From 1996 to 2000, he was the Contributing Editor for Mountain Biking at Suite  Towards the later part of his tenure he discovered an appetite for writing fiction. 
Site Contact Information:
A few words from the Writer:
As far back as I can recall, I have had memories that seemed as though they were not mine, and yet I always felt that they were my own. My parents, in many ways, bor witness to my recall as a child. I was a peculiar child by many accounts, who had a hyper sense of empathy towards the world around, becoming upset about the cutting of plants, insisting that they were feeling pain. At the age of four, I preferred to wear dress shoes, button-up shirts and once felt outrage at the offering of milk in a plastic cup, to which I told my parents, "I'm not used to this type of treatment. Where I was before, I treatment much better" and walked out of the kitchen.

I was known as a sleepwalker and to make statements about, according to my mother regarding, "science sounding stuffed." I do not have any recall of those events. However, many years later, as an adult, I had awoken many times, standing in different locations within my home, usually positioned as if I was looking out a window. It was a bit disturbing, but I was glad I never found myself outside my house. As far as I know, I know longer sleepwalk.

It's not unusual for me to have vivid dreams. I developed a knack for recalling my dreams, as well as returning to or continuing the same dream. Rarely do I have nightmares. In most of my dreams, I tend to be the observer being given or shown something, which I often feel compelled to respond to in my waking life.

The only nightmares I have had are reoccurring in nature. The most prominent is one where a group of people appears to be chasing me, and in an attempt to escape them, I take a hidden tunnel. The tunnel is narrow, and with a lower ceiling, which forces me to crawl. As I scamper along the path, I sense that I'm inside a house or building of some sort. As I travel, I'm moving higher,  giving me a view from above of my pursers. Eventually, it opens up to a chamber, which has no visible walls but has the beam and framework against I white background that I perceive to be a room.

There is a platform that I climb onto quickly. I can hear something coming, I feel a presence drawing closer when a ghostly hand up from below the edge of the platform grabs my ankle and tries to pull me off.

This nightmare was reoccurred a dozen times for many years. Each time it would start the same, but I found I could alter the ending. Eventually, the dream went away after I decided to fight back against what I could only define as a dark evil.

Joe Pucci
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