The Newtown Pentacle

Altissima quaeque flumina minimo sono labi

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Devastations, concrete and plastic.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

Broken, abused, cast aside. That’s me. Like every other bit of wind blown trash in NYC, I find myself staring into the abyssal darkness which is the Newtown Creek. Poisoned, polluted, and abandoned. That’s me too.

Here in the wasteland, where dissolution and disease can be found, this is where I belong.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

Shouting at bureaucrats, angrily decrying the injustices of municipal apportionment, demonstrating that the sky is indeed falling to those who can stop it. Demanding not justice, but a simple admission of culpability for the collapsing heavens. That’s me too. Doesn’t make me popular with officialdom, but there you are. Somebody has to do it, and as with a lot of other sections of my life – you gotta do whatcha gotta do.

Assailed from all sides, by do gooders who would rather complain than actually do anything to change this catastrophe we live in, by cocktail party scholastics, by the politically correct. That’s me too.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

Periodically, the bile rises in my throat, and rage clouds my eyes. Rhetorical flourish and clever retort gives way to a growling and wild eyed sermon which demands acknowledgment that a dangerous storm is forming in front of the lucky recipient.  It is in these moments that I remind people, and myself, that I am – in fact – not a nice guy by nature and especially by nurture.

What would Superman do? That’s what pulls me back from the edge, when I remember what I aspire to, rather than what I am.

In fact, I can be quite an asshole when I don’t hold myself in check, and remind myself about Superman.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

It’s at these times that a humble narrator picks his way over to his beloved Creek, musing on his private fantasies of visiting exquisite vengeance upon those who have angered him. It’s also when he finds himself thinking of himself in the “third person” and decides that it’s time to get a grip. Superman always keeps his grip, lest all those things which he gazes upon, and through (x-ray vision, which would be handy), burst into flame. He lives in a world made of paper, of course, but hey – you can have your Jesus, my ideal being and eidolon has heat vision and can fly. He’s also highly resistant to bullets and temperature extremes, but has an aversion to shiny green rocks.

It’s not so easy, living between my ears, but shiny green rocks bring me back to Newtown Creek.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

What this city needs is a good plague, I’ve always thought. That’s the sort of thing Superman never thinks. Newtown Creek, what it really needs are the direct attentions of Superman, but he’d probably avoid the place because it’s covered in shiny green rocks. Superman could probably solve every little Newtown Creek problem in an afternoon, mainly because there would be no one who could say “no” to him.

All Newtown Creek’s really got is me and a few of my friends, I’m afraid. It’s also likely where that plague mentioned above might come from.

We will have to do, until someone better comes along.

“follow” me on Twitter- @newtownpentacle


Written by Mitch Waxman

December 4, 2015 at 11:00 am

4 Responses

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  1. Oyez, oyez, oyez. henceforth the Newtown Creek shall be named the Waxman Creek.

    georgetheatheist . . . trying to help

    December 4, 2015 at 11:45 am

  2. What arrogant creatures we are to believe that we somehow stand outside of and above nature. The hubris of Man rising from a peculiar mix of vanity and self-loathing with which he deludes himself into thinking that he has the power to bend nature to his will for good or ill.

    Five years, four months, twenty five days, twenty three hours ago I learned the harsh lesson that all we are, all we create and have are only momentary victories that are subject to the laws of thermodynamics and will eventually be erased. No exceptions to the rule.

    Dissolution, disease and wastelands are just nature’s recycling bins. The places where the decks are cleared for new things to be created.
    So why the angst? Pay no attention to the capering and gibbering of the hairless apes who’ve only arrived on the scene a moment ago, their pointless schemes and plots. Enjoy the comedy as the little ape’s schemes fall apart and their flimsy edifices crumble as they bait and scream at each other. It’s hilarious.

    The Creek pays no attention to them, nor cares what they do. That I can assure you.

    Don Cavaioli


    December 4, 2015 at 1:19 pm

  3. ” It is in these moments that I remind people, and myself, that I am – in fact – not a nice guy by nature and especially by nurture.”

    Captain Nemo: I am not what is called a civilized man, Professor. I have done with society for reasons that seem good to me. Therefore, I do not obey its laws.


    December 4, 2015 at 3:47 pm

  4. “What this city needs is a good plague, I’ve always thought.”

    I think we were separated at birth. I’ve been saying this for years about the entire world.


    December 4, 2015 at 3:48 pm

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