Retro Roots. Modern Obsessions.
Watching The White Lotus reminded me: I was never wealthy—I was just visiting. This is what it feels like to lose the mask, the job, and the illusion of middle-class safety, while still trying to raise a daughter in a world built for someone else.
A sweaty, electric memoir of Bronx nights, club chaos, and the beats that kept us alive before the silence came. This is how we danced to survive.
Before Google, we had hallway whispers and corner-store warnings. Growing up in the Bronx during the ’80s and ’90s meant dodging Nair balloons, fearing “sterile” sodas, and praying your jacket didn’t get you jumped. These weren’t just urban legends—they were survival guides passed down in lunchrooms, stairwells, and the back of the bodega.
I was a teenage superhero wannabe—fighting crime with foam nunchucks and Punisher delusions. No villains were harmed, but a lot of lamps were. This is what happens when comics meet karate in the Bronx.
Genex Geek 