The Newtown Pentacle

Altissima quaeque flumina minimo sono labi

Archive for March 8th, 2011

stupendous ruin

with 4 comments

– photo by Mitch Waxman

Before I left Calvary- that day when I finally located the grave of it’s first interment (Esther Ennis, 1848), stepped in a dead rabbit, and picked up a paranormal companion on my long walk- two things came to my notice. The first, which discussed and observed several of the so called “disturbing subsidences” prevalent at Calvary Cemetery after a severe winter, is found in the posting “of straw and willow“. This is the second, and this time the rabbit isn’t dead- just spooky.

Acquaintance and intimate strangers alike (for one such as I can never boast vaingloriously of possessing friends due to an inadequate equilibrium of emotion and inability to interact with others in an intimate or affable manner) have asked me about those assertions put forth in prior postings regarding this whole ghost thing.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

First Calvary, and to a larger extent- all of the Polyandrions of Western Queens, present an overwhelming experience to visitors. The megalopolis hums about peripheral boundaries, yet an unnatural quiet rings out shortly after entering the gates. Statuary in lifelike proportions towers above, and sure knowledge of that which might be below forces ones perception into an odd parallel.

The wealth of detail and brutally long sight lines cause one to scan the visual field intently, reading every name on every stone and noticing even the smallest things. The effect is not unlike that described by the hasish eaters of the far east, an hallucinogenic and dreamlike artifice of the mind.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

A certain numbness manifests in the feet first, which act as leaden anchors rather than motive ground interfaces. Gait alters, from a strolling trot to a clumsy shuffle with the feet angled into 10 and 2 positions, and a slight sense of vertigo skirts about the edges of possibility. So too, do mundane and wholesome items take on an air of sinister intent and latent potential. The same ethereal effect is often felt in the world’s great museums, as the brain is attempting to make sense of the multitudes of provocative images it is suddenly gorging on (my navy nuclear engineer buddy calls this being “uberplexed”).

Psychics, mystics, seers and the like would describe the effects which Calvary reliably supplies as being some sort of psychic charge which suffuses this garden of loss. Descriptions and analogies of the spirit legions whose mortal remains rest here would also be offered by the magickally inclined.

Doesn’t explain why there are rabbits here, live ones, with glowing red eyes.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

To the point of this missive however, which concerns my spectral companion, the following is offered:

While entering the cemetery with the expressed purpose of locating the grave of its first interment, a shadow was noticed flitting about that was consistent from place to place. This shape seemed to be everywhere I was, and my path that day saw my own cast shadow falling behind me. Once or twice, while crossing the roads which service the various sections, it was observed on the asphalt where NOTHING was there to cast a shadow.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

It has been a very long time since one of my spells has seized upon me. The vast weaknesses of character and underwhelming physique which your humble narrator has earned through years of sloth, gluttony, and too little sleep once again betrayed me at a critical moment. Light headed, the pharmaceutical tablets which my doctors have ordered me to have at the ready for when, not if, such a moment comes were already in my mouth when the rabbit in the shot above looked alertly at just to the left of my position. Spinning around, I realized that I was casting two shadows instead of the usual one.

I’m all ‘effed up.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

My presence of mind returned partially only after having crossed Greenpoint Avenue and scuttling down the hill towards Borden Avenue. Since there were no cats about to guide me, my synaptic memory demanded that a generally widdershins directional orientation be followed. Perhaps, by moving out of this place, this haunter of the shadows could be dislodged.

Perhaps, solace might be found closer to Tower Town…

Written by Mitch Waxman

March 8, 2011 at 10:25 pm

%d bloggers like this: