Archive for 2012
wildly luminous
– photo by Mitch Waxman
In yesterday’s posting, a object d’art was found along Laurel Hill Blvd. At the foot of that ancient byway lies an intersection with Greenpoint Avenue, and the bridge named for it. The street lamps are often utilized by your humble narrator as “something to hide from oncoming traffic behind” and recently I’ve noticed some odd graffiti popping up on them.
Not your usual “gangsta” braggadocio or “tags” nor “ironic hipster commentary”, these involve the bible.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The scrawl I’m referring to on this pole, which is on the western corner, is not the interesting tidbit about people of Korean abstraction which is written on the masking tape holding the pen- instead it’s the “Sin is the Devil” which caught my attention.
In the American King James version, at least, this correlates to 1 John 3:8
“He that commits sin is of the devil; for the devil sins from the beginning. For this purpose the Son of God was manifested, that he might destroy the works of the devil.”
Hmm.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Maybe I’m just stupid, but Psalms 141.6 doesn’t include the quotation above, which most likely comes from “Romans 5:13- For until the law sin was in the world: but sin is not imputed when there is no law.”
The Psalms quotation would be “Their rulers will be thrown down from the cliffs, and the wicked will learn that my words were well spoken“.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
DUGABO (or Down Under the Greenpoint Avenue Bridge Onramp), it would seem, can now boast of hosting a foe of evil.
Wonder what might happen should they spy the Blissville Banshee as she floats down the Newtown Creek, spy the occultists who make altars in area cemeteries, or wonder at the tales of an antique and quite spectral locomotive passing the Bliss Tower on its way to Deadman’s Curve at Berlin Hill?
Would we see an exorcism in DUGABO?
ALSO, this Friday:
My own attempt at presenting a cogent narrative and historical journey “up the creek” is up coming as well-
Your humble narrator will be narrating humbly on Friday, February 24th at 7:30 P.M. for the“Ridgewood Democratic Club, 60-70 Putnam Avenue, Ridgewood, NY 11385” as the “Newtown Creek Magic Lantern Show” is presented to their esteemed group. The club hosts a public meeting, with guests and neighbors welcome, and say that refreshments will be served.
The “Magic Lantern Show” is actually a slideshow, packed with informative text and graphics, wherein we approach and explore the entire Newtown Creek. Every tributary, bridge, and significant spot are examined and illustrated with photography. This virtual tour will be augmented by personal observation and recollection by yours truly, with a question and answer period following.
For those of you who might have seen it last year, the presentation has been streamlined, augmented with new views, and updated with some of the emerging stories about Newtown Creek which have been exclusively reported on at this- your Newtown Pentacle.
For more information, please contact me here.
What: Newtown Creek Magic Lantern Show
When: Friday, February 24th at 7:30 P.M.
Where: Ridgewood Democratic Club, 60-70 Putnam Avenue, Ridgewood, NY 11385
sober and solitary
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The other day, your humble narrator was seeking adventure and illumination amongst the mouldering tombstones and oil soaked sands of Blissville. This is an industrial stretch, closer to DUGABO than it is to DUKBO, with the cyclopean walls of Calvary Cemetery defining the northern side of the street and an unbroken facade of industrial buildings and warehouses on the the south, which is also the direction in which the fabled Newtown Creek might be found by those that seek it out.
This is formerly one of the most loathsome stretches of the Creeklands- home to oil works, distilleries, and fat rendering plants.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
On the gates of what was once the vast rendering plant of Van Iderstines, a noxious industrial combine which was reviled by its neighbors during the century it squatted squamously upon this spot, this artwork was observed. This was no mere graffiti scrawl, instead this was an affixed installation, one which was obviously prepared elsewhere.
Content and subject matter are curious… and more than curious…
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Your humble narrator grew interested upon noticing the presence of the double helix in the design, and the labeling which is meant to indicate the various amino acids which DNA is composed of. The “genetic code” as it is called, is actually represented by just four letters representing the chemical nucleotides which form the “double helix”- G,A,T, and C.
The four bases found in DNA are adenine (abbreviated A), cytosine (C), guanine (G) and thymine (T)
– photo by Mitch Waxman
A secondary piece was hung nearby, this one showed greater restraint than the first, but absent the chaotic charisma of the first.
Wouldn’t it be a wonderful thing if the fences and gated properties of the Newtown Creek waterfront became a sort of guerrilla gallery for local artists. Imagine mile after mile of bizarre conceptions and twee fever dreams installed in the dead of night by a virtual and quite fey army of artists. Not “tagging”, of course, just tacking up something on paper whose impermanence was part of its very composition. Do the art on rice paper or something that will just turn to pulp when it rains.
A friend of mine once did an ad agency mailing for some “green” client, and her gimmick was to use paper into which flower seeds were embedded at the paper mill (and it was printed using soy inks, of course), and you were meant to just plant the advertisement in a pot after reading it.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Being the sort of damaged individual that you’ve come to expect me to be, Lords and Ladies, an attempt was made to decode this particular painting. It soon became apparent that expertise in organic chemistry would be required to profoundly critique it, something which it would be foolhardy to attempt. A cursory scan of the various formulae revealed that some of these are indeed actual chemical descriptors for amongst other things- restriction enzymes.
The usage of the infinity symbol and the other text is a mystery to me, but overall I liked the art.
ALSO, this Friday:
My own attempt at presenting a cogent narrative and historical journey “up the creek” is up coming as well-
Your humble narrator will be narrating humbly on Friday, February 24th at 7:30 P.M. for the“Ridgewood Democratic Club, 60-70 Putnam Avenue, Ridgewood, NY 11385” as the “Newtown Creek Magic Lantern Show” is presented to their esteemed group. The club hosts a public meeting, with guests and neighbors welcome, and say that refreshments will be served.
The “Magic Lantern Show” is actually a slideshow, packed with informative text and graphics, wherein we approach and explore the entire Newtown Creek. Every tributary, bridge, and significant spot are examined and illustrated with photography. This virtual tour will be augmented by personal observation and recollection by yours truly, with a question and answer period following.
For those of you who might have seen it last year, the presentation has been streamlined, augmented with new views, and updated with some of the emerging stories about Newtown Creek which have been exclusively reported on at this- your Newtown Pentacle.
For more information, please contact me here.
What: Newtown Creek Magic Lantern Show
When: Friday, February 24th at 7:30 P.M.
Where: Ridgewood Democratic Club, 60-70 Putnam Avenue, Ridgewood, NY 11385
average specimens
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Captain Zeke is an 88 ton tug owned and operated by the White Near Coastal Towing Corp. of Syosset, and was built as the Lady Ora for Falgout Marine at Houma Shipbuilding in Louisiana back in 1980. Unfortunately, neither the company nor the tug have much information available about them, so there’s little more that can be said beyond its size- which is 30 m x 8 m, and its maximum recorded speed of 6.4 knots versus its average of 5.5 knots.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Captain Zeke ran into a bit of trouble just a few years ago, on the Hudson River.
Spontaneous combustion involving paint rags in a fidley opening may have been the origin of the Aug. 31, 2008, fire aboard the Capt. Zeke, a Coast Guard investigator said. When their fire extinguishers proved inadequate, the tug crew fled to one of the barges.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Speaking from a position of strictly deductive reasoning at this point, due to a lack of available information about this tug and its owners- Captain Zeke has been personally observed about the harbor moving small loads of a decidedly non volatile nature, as in the previous shot wherein the cargo seems to be sand.
It would be logical to assume that this role is well suited to the relatively small tug, which can most likely get into narrower spaces than the mated tug and barge gargantua which are employed by large players like Reinauer, Moran, or K-Sea (whose vessels specialize in the handling of volatiles) for the transport of various fuels and the handling of cargo vessels.
This theory is contradicted though, by this posting at the blog tuglife, which shows Captain Zeke tethered “on the hip” to a fuel barge.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
In the shots above and below, which were captured on the Kill Van Kull, Captain Zeke is tied to the sort of barge one regularly observes at Newtown Creek handling the SimsMetal trade in bulk metal. It is damnably odd, in the opinion of this humble narrator, that so little information is available online about this vessel. Normally, commercial maritime activity is copiously documented by a variety of private and government entities.
Regardless of this information vacuum, Newtown Pentacle’s “Maritime Sunday” nevertheless recognizes and sends a hearty greeting to Captain Zeke and its crew.
Project Firebox 32
– photo by Mitch Waxman
This poor bastard has been standing out in the weather across the street from the Brooklyn Bridge for a long, long time with no relief. It’s not the outrageous fortune of having been stationed in the land that time forgot, a relict section of centuries old buildings long since relegated to “gentrification”, it’s the ignominy of being adorned with fey missives and ironic graffiti tags by the so called gentry that inhabits the neighborhood which just burns. Protected from nearby construction, it nevertheless fears the worst and is ready to summon the city guard should trouble strike.
thickening twilight
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Sickened by weariness and a youth misspent, your humble narrator nevertheless has been tormenting himself lately with regret and guilty nonsense. “Not working hard enough” is omnipresent in my mind these days, and accordingly, the length and depth of my wanderings through the Creeklands have expanded. A lack of physical exercise is deadly to a poor specimen like myself, something which is difficult during the winter months due to that certain allergy to cold which has manifested – and which has become amplified- in recent years.
It’s amazing the ways that your body changes as you grow older, sometimes it seems as if there’s some feeble alien creature within that is pushing and tearing a path to the outside world through your very flesh.
from hplovecraft.com
Y’ha-nthlei was not destroyed when the upper-earth men shot death into the sea. It was hurt, but not destroyed. The Deep Ones could never be destroyed, even though the palaeogean magic of the forgotten Old Ones might sometimes check them. For the present they would rest; but some day, if they remembered, they would rise again for the tribute Great Cthulhu craved. It would be a city greater than Innsmouth next time.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Carrying forth, however, is something compelled rather than desired. My team of doctors has advised me of decaying homeostasis, entropic processes, and general decline. Their suggestions are to step up, exert more effort, and seek even greater frequency for these long walks while avoiding the pleasures and poisons of the west. Luckily, the ancient pathways and avenues which surround and inform that nearby slick of languid infamy known as the Newtown Creek supply ample locations to inspect, never failing to intimate some hidden meaning or vaguely shadowed terror.
Who can guess, all there is, that might be buried down there?
from hplovecraft.com
“The nethermost caverns,” wrote the mad Arab, “are not for the fathoming of eyes that see; for their marvels are strange and terrific. Cursed the ground where dead thoughts live new and oddly bodied, and evil the mind that is held by no head. Wisely did Ibn Schacabao say, that happy is the tomb where no wizard hath lain, and happy the town at night whose wizards are all ashes. For it is of old rumour that the soul of the devil-bought hastes not from his charnel clay, but fats and instructs the very worm that gnaws; till out of corruption horrid life springs, and the dull scavengers of earth wax crafty to vex it and swell monstrous to plague it. Great holes secretly are digged where earth’s pores ought to suffice, and things have learnt to walk that ought to crawl.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Paranoid wonderings, lunatic ideations, unnameable desires- all haunt me during the seemingly aimless steps. Delusions of self importance, hubris, and vast ennui are my only companions on these often cobbled streets. A discarded landscape with a lost history, this is a place given to the dead, the diseased, the barren… a perfect home for one such as myself. There seems to be a current in the air, a taste of anxiety on the tip of my tongue which is all pervasive, and it feels as if something is about to happen.
Ahh… I’m all effed up.
from hplovecraft.com
I do not recall distinctly when it began, but it was months ago. The general tension was horrible. To a season of political and social upheaval was added a strange and brooding apprehension of hideous physical danger; a danger widespread and all-embracing, such a danger as may be imagined only in the most terrible phantasms of the night. I recall that the people went about with pale and worried faces, and whispered warnings and prophecies which no one dared consciously repeat or acknowledge to himself that he had heard. A sense of monstrous guilt was upon the land, and out of the abysses between the stars swept chill currents that made men shiver in dark and lonely places. There was a daemoniac alteration in the sequence of the seasons—the autumn heat lingered fearsomely, and everyone felt that the world and perhaps the universe had passed from the control of known gods or forces to that of gods or forces which were unknown.
The Newtown Pentacle 