Rock On The Bronx

Dear Diary, good morning. Will all this creativity in the Bronx N.Y. be over-looked again? Let’s see, how many reps today? Light weights while losing weight, heavy weights while maintaining. I think that’s the formula, right? Oh well. What’s on the DVR?

Man, I got to start burning out some of this backlog. I didn’t think I’d like Ellen on American Idol but it really seems to have brought back the truculent Simon. Is it me or is he pushing her buttons in a really subtle way? I love it. Treadmill before weight training or after? How about a Bronx Idol at some point?

Man, I can’t believe how accepted con-formity is now. Yuck. Conformity is good for biceps but not for art. I can’t. I just can’t. Let’s see, got about 25 Judge Judy’s cued up. Filmmakers, writers, artists, entire scenes worthy of respect right here and what’s the result? No re-spect. Fear of the real artists to be found in every nook and cranny of the Bronx 2010.

Man, is it me or Judge Judy doesn’t listen once she makes her mind up about someone? Oh well. She’s the judge. Please!! Somebody shut these weather-men up! I don’t even trust them anymore. Just tell me if it’s going to snow or not snow; stop gleefully, repetitively predict-ing the end of the world as we know it. I detest that anchorman anyway. Is it me or does he always look like he’s about to burst out laughing at the most tragic sto-ries? Anchormen are the most awkward people on TV. I can’t. I just can’t. I still have that local CD I reviewed last week in the pile. It’s just me and you diary, because I think this is going to be another day when all the free flowing creativity in the Bronx is overlooked by the media giants. Rock on. Rock out.


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