Archive for March 2011
shadowy corners
“they’re building another one?” – photo by Mitch Waxman
This is the final installment detailing my experiences in western Queens, on that day when I finally located the grave of Calvary Cemetery’s first interment (Esther Ennis, 1848), stepped in a dead rabbit, picked up a paranormal companion on my long walk, found myself in a state of “stupendous ruin“, soon realized that my perceptions had grown “bafflingly homogeneous“, and that my senses had become occluded due to “sleep filmed eyes“.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
As mentioned in yesterday’s posting, tardy delivery of content to this- your Newtown Pentacle- has been caused by a cavalcade of obligations. Both personal and professional, these obligations have placed me in a room next to personages who enjoy the highest reputation and standing, lettered academics and eidelons of “the professions” both have taken me to a private corner of the room and confessed to having had similar experiences to those which I’ve been describing in this series of postings- which is VERY interesting.
This day, I was in Tower Town, down by the East River in Long Island City… or Queens West as its proponents call it.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Former days of grandeur, industrial might, and utility seem to be over for this part of Queens. Perhaps it is overworked and deserves a pastoral retirement as a park and residential center. Such meta-lopolitan planning is beyond the understanding of one like myself, who is cursed to wander through this infestation of the human hive but forbidden to do anything but observe. When my nervous scuttling and vast perambulations are performed, dark glasses are worn and the earbuds of my iphone are firmly in place- serving to isolate and insulate.
Of late, I like to wear my hood up, but loss of periphery can be a fatal mistake in these places I go.
Perhaps this is why I was casting two shadows.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
My companion was familiar to me somehow, an atavist and insistent presence. Definitely male, the image of a double headed ax was impossible to banish from my thoughts as I neared the bridge…
– photo by Mitch Waxman
…THE QUEENSBORO BRIDGE!!! Queensboro is its name, not 59th street nor anything else that Manhattan elites might attach to it.
CALL HUNTERS POINT SOUTH OR WILLETS POINT “KOCH CITY” instead…
– photo by Mitch Waxman
…sorry that sort of thing just blurts out of me these days…
At right about this spot that I suddenly perceived that my spectral companion was no longer present, and when I noticed my nervous shadow had returned to its altogether wholesome and expected aspect. Whatever it was… perhaps it was just the moment when “one of my states” had passed…
– photo by Mitch Waxman
It was here in the shadows of that great machine called Queensboro that the splendid isolations which your humble narrator so enjoys returned, and roamed once more alone amongst the multitudes. The disturbing vision of that double headed ax though, seemed to stay with me and caused ponderings to begin.
What connection could there be between Long Island City, a largely Irish cemetery, and a battle-ax?
involuntary marching
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Submissive posturing of face and body would be offered were we to meet in person this day, presented in some petulant passivity designed to demand forgiveness for having not updated this- your Newtown Pentacle- after having sworn to return to habits less indolent. Such pedantry is part of the daily turn for one such as myself, whose childhood was spent amongst never dusty shelves of old books while sprawled upon some sculptured green broadloom in Brooklyn, kept far away from other children due to my perilous infirmity and overall weakness of both character and constitution.
I was working on something else, which required 100% attention.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Some exertions require the marshaling of, and defense against, character and sloth. This project of mine was nothing grave, nor was it some occult expedition into the very bowels of Queens or anything. It was merely a presentation of certain bits of lore coupled with data gathered during the pursuit of this very blog, and illustrated with the usual flourishes- photographic and graphic- you’ve come to expect here and from your humble narrator.
Of course, while working on what ended up taking me a full week to produce, I’ve only been able to get out a few times for “my walks”.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
So far in March- I’ve only managed to trek the coast of Queens from Astoria Park to Hunters Point, all of Skillman Avenue and then on to Greenpoint, LIC over the Pulaski to the Sewer Plant to Greenpoint Bridge to Sunnyside, from Maspeth to Manhattan via Grand Street and the Williamsburg Bridge, most of Roosevelt Avenue, most of First Calvary, and to all points above from Astoria.
Tomorrow, I’ll try and fill you in on the next part of my haunted walk, on that day when I finally located the grave of Calvary Cemetery’s first interment (Esther Ennis, 1848), stepped in a dead rabbit, picked up a paranormal companion on my long walk, found myself in a state of “stupendous ruin“, and soon realized that my perceptions had grown “bafflingly homogeneous“.
sleep filmed eyes
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Altered by timidity and terror, your humble narrator continued down Borden Avenue, and crossing beneath the fecund Pulaski Bridge this totemic awaited. At first, it seemed to be material proof of certain theories and cognitive dissonances, confirmation of deep voids beneath the modern plate of cement which typifies area streets.
Who, after all, can guess what may be buried down there?
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Amongst the many things whose worried considerations are enjoyed by one such as myself is the sure knowledge that modern New York City, particularly older sections like Hunters Point in Queens or the business district in Manhattan, is the icing of a very deep layer cake. Foundations of ancient structures, with industrial pipelines, sewer connections, and still extant subterranean warehouse vaults are intricately woven into the ground.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Often, in areas around the malediction known as the Newtown Creek in particular, the expediency required of rapid capital driven entrepreneurial growth has demanded that a property lot be cleared without any clear record left behind of what once occupied the space. This patch of the Creek was raised from the swampy morass which was its natural form sometime in 1861, for instance. The first buildings in Hunters Point were constructed near here, and Borden Avenue itself (although known as first “Ferry Road” and later as “Blissville Road”) was christened only in 1869.
Hunters Point is named for the family of Captain George Hunter, although it has also been called Mespit, Nechtanc’s Hook, Curles Hook, Dominie’s Hook, and Bennet’s Hook before it became referred to by its modern nomenclature.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Ambitious to the point of hubris, the transformation of Hunters Point from “an industrial center which had fallen on hard times” (mainly due to meddling with its zoning by real estate interests and long retired city planners in 1960) to a neighborhood is beginning. Like it or hate it, it’s happening- and “Hunters Point South” is shaking free of the twin shackles of an economic downturn and municipal bureaucracy. The behemoth project promises to reveal much that is hidden in the ground, whether it be those venomous environmental inheritances- contamination from some long ago refinery or chemical plant- or the archaeological remains of the early colonial or aboriginal inhabitants.
In the midst of all the historical reminisce, a rustle from behind me forced remembrance of why I had come here…
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Spectral, a companion had latched onto me earlier in the day. It was that day when I finally located the grave of Calvary Cemetery’s first interment (Esther Ennis, 1848), stepped in a dead rabbit, picked up a paranormal companion on my long walk, found myself in a state of “stupendous ruin“, and soon realized that my perceptions had grown “bafflingly homogeneous“. According to occult specialists and paranormal experts, eldritch entities are somehow connected to and can access the ambient electromagnetic spectrum as evidenced by cold spots in haunted houses and the rapid draining of camera batteries in similar locations. (I can report that my Canon battery functions normally within area cemeteries, however)
Long Island City… LIC is all about power and always has been.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
In 1881, when the goody two shoe reformers in Manhattan outlawed gambling and bookmaking, the “operation” moved to Hunters Point. In 1890, things were going so well that the Queens County Bank was built on 2nd street. It wasn’t until the 20th century that the “800 pound gorilla” built its powerhouse, and it would be another 20 years until the tunnels to Manhattan were finished which allowed the new subway system to cross under the river via the miracle of electrical motility.
Under the ground here, raw electrical power exists in cascades…
– photo by Mitch Waxman
My shadowy passenger, whose identity I suspected but cannot prove, seemed to shudder at the thought of crossing the river of electrical cables which underlie this section of the waterfront. Emboldened by its trepidation, I set off down 2nd street, and headed for Tower Town where no shadow can be found. Atavist fear and horror struck panics aside, your humble narrator is no stranger to the mythologies and common tropes of the occult…
Haunt my house? I’ll fill the carpet steamer with holy water…
bafflingly homogeneous
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Quivering in some hellish and noisome pool of spreading horror, the sprawling obstructions of Long Island City lay between myself and the East River- after having had several surprising experiences at First Calvary Cemetery. Greenpoint Avenue at Borden is where the titan architecture of the Queens Midtown Expressway returns to grade from the arching heights it attains over the mutagenic sediments of an ancient canal called the Dutch Kills, eventually terminating at the East River’s junction with Newtown Creek at Hunters Point.
Seeking- instinctually- running water, your humble narrator found himself in a fine state of panic.
from psychcentral.com
…Their excessive suspiciousness and hostility may be expressed in overt argumentativeness, in recurrent complaining, or by quiet, apparently hostile aloofness. Because they are hypervigilant for potential threats, they may act in a guarded, secretive, or devious manner and appear to be “cold” and lacking in tender feelings. Although they may appear to be objective, rational, and unemotional, they more often display a labile range of affect, with hostile, stubborn, and sarcastic expressions predominating. Their combative and suspicious nature may elicit a hostile response in others, which then serves to confirm their original expectations.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Bogeyman, bump in the night, or the sure knowledge of an invisibly malign presence- it doesn’t take much to set a crazed ape like myself into howling melancholies of dread. Mundane and wholesome experiences terrify and insulate my fragile persona, and merely interacting with fellow members of the citizenry often results in days of fevered weakness and endless self recrimination. The gentlest of surprises- a small child laughing suddenly, or the appearance of a feral cat or dog- any environmental deviation which could be ascribed to be “sudden”- is enough to rob me of any aspiration of societal posture. Retreat to the hideous slime coated abysses of the megalopolis are called for, where one might hide and blend in amongst all hideousness.
I’m all ‘effed up.
from wikipedia
A person with low self-esteem may show some of the following symptoms:
- Heavy self-criticism, tending to create a habitual state of dissatisfaction with oneself.
- Hypersensitivity to criticism, which makes oneself feel easily attacked and experience obstinate resentment against critics.
- Chronic indecision, not so much because of lack of information, but from an exaggerated fear of making a mistake.
- Excessive will to please: being unwilling to say “no”, out of fear of displeasing the petitioner.
- Perfectionism, or self-demand to do everything attempted “perfectly” without a single mistake, which can lead to frustration when perfection is not achieved.
- Neurotic guilt: one is condemned for behaviors which not always are objectively bad, exaggerates the magnitude of mistakes or offenses and complains about them indefinitely, never reaching full forgiveness.
- Floating hostility, irritability out in the open, always on the verge of exploding even for unimportant things; an attitude characteristic of somebody who feels bad about everything, who is disappointed or unsatisfied with everything
- Defensive tendencies, a general negative (one is pessimistic about everything: life, future, and, above all, oneself) and a general lack of will to enjoy life.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
It is simpler to believe ones mind has cracked wide open, than it is to believe the truth of those dark undercurrents which seethe just below the surface which have been observed in the Newtown Pentacle. Madness is preferable- I suppose- to those Malthusian truths which govern over this place. It is easier to embrace some swirling chaotic, marry oneself to a “very bad idea” than to accept that some sort of shadow had followed me on my long walk through a cemetery. I mean… that’s just… not… scientific…
Perhaps it’s just paranoia…
from wikipedia
Malthus thought that the dangers of population growth would preclude endless progress towards a utopian society: “The power of population is indefinitely greater than the power in the earth to produce subsistence for man”. As an Anglican clergyman, Malthus saw this situation as divinely imposed to teach virtuous behaviour. Believing that one could not change human nature, Malthus wrote:
- “Must it not then be acknowledged by an attentive examiner of the histories of mankind, that in every age and in every State in which man has existed, or does now exist
- That the increase of population is necessarily limited by the means of subsistence,
- That population does invariably increase when the means of subsistence increase, and,
- That the superior power of population is repressed, and the actual population kept equal to the means of subsistence, by misery and vice.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The air is clear, and not a poisonous fume. Broadcast antennas connected to powerful transmitters do not form wavefront cascades of airborne radiation which are known to create the vast static and electrical charges experienced on sky flung metal structures like these advertising signs or the Kosciuszko Bridge. The water in Newtown Creek is free of pharmaceutical residues, and there has not been some sort of cult operating at St. Michael’s Cemetery in Astoria.
I did not see a man climb over the side of the Borden Avenue Bridge and disappear under the roadway as I drew close to the ancient structure.
from wikipedia
The terror of absolute annihilation creates such a profound—albeit subconscious—anxiety in people that they spend their lives attempting to make sense of it. On large scales, societies build symbols: laws, religions, cultures, and belief systems to explain the significance of life, define what makes certain characteristics, skills, and talents extraordinary, reward others whom they find exemplify certain attributes, and punish or kill others who do not adhere to their cultural worldview. On an individual level, how well someone adheres to a cultural worldview is the same concept as self-esteem; people measure their own worth based on how well they live up to their culture’s expectations.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
There is no Black Crow living alongside this bridge, in a windblown shanty. It’s my imagination- wild fantasies and exaggerations concocted by a diseased and fever struck mind… the very progeny of failed ambitions and underwhelming talents.
There was only one shadow cast by your humble narrator since having stumbled out of First Calvary…
from about.com
Flight of Ideas: a nearly continuous flow of rapid speech that jumps from topic to topic, usually based on discernible associations, distractions, or plays on words, but in severe cases so rapid as to be disorganized and incoherent. It is most commonly seen in manic episodes but may also occur in other mental disorders such as in manic phases of schizophrenia.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
After all… the Black Crow? Who makes this kind of stuff up? A man living on Dutch Kills, at Borden Avenue Bridge of all places, in this day and age…
from wikipedia
Oneirophrenia is a hallucinatory, dream-like state caused by several conditions such as prolonged sleep deprivation, sensory deprivation, or drugs (such as ibogaine). From the Greek words “ὄνειρο” (oneiro, “dream”) and “φρενός” (phrenos, “mind”). It has some of the characteristics of simple schizophrenia, such as a confusional state and clouding of consciousness, but without presenting the dissociative symptoms which are typical of this disorder.
Persons affected by oneirophrenia have a feeling of dream-like unreality which, in its extreme form, may progress to delusions and hallucinations. Therefore, it is considered a schizophrenia-like acute form of psychosis which remits in about 60% of cases within a period of two years. It is estimated that 50% or more of schizophrenic patients present oneirophrenia at least once.
no pity
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Consider this one a space holder with a pretty picture in it, presented by a humble narrator otherwise overwhelmed with obligation who offers it with the promise of several regular postings appearing- on schedule- at this, your Newtown Pentacle in the coming week.
This has been one heck of a week…
The Newtown Pentacle 