The Newtown Pentacle

Once more, the breach is a Monday, so unto it.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

One week ago today did a humble narrator ride the subway for the first time in 140 days. An appointment for an inquisition about my homeostasis required a visit to the island of Manhattan, where a team of medical professionals awaited me with forms and needles. One was measured, weighed, scrutinized closely. At one point, a woman walked into the room and jabbed a barb into my left arm. Vials, she filled, with my blood. Test results were arrived at, and the Doctor intoned that one might just keep on living, for just a little while longer. One of the tests was for Covid, which confirmed my assertion that – so far – I’ve been lucky enough to avoid infection.

The subway ride was uneventful, but for the chin mask guy who alternated between grasping the subway pole and jamming his fingers into the various mucous membrane lined holes on his head.

Seriously, I’ve always wondered about the characters in Zombie movies who a) either pretend that what they’re seeing isn’t happening, b) hide the fact that they’ve been bitten and are infected, c) start fights over unrelated to the crisis issues which end up getting everybody killed. Then, along comes Covid, and…

– photo by Mitch Waxman

One wandered a short few blocks after being the subject of scientific scrutiny, and a decision to splurge a bit was arrived at. Instead of climbing back down into the sweating concrete bunkers of the MTA, with their piston driven clouds of disgust, one instead summoned a ride back to Astoria. Mask on, windows open, one rode back to Queens in the manner of a big fellow. The driver’s name was Mohammed, he hailed from Pakistan originally, and we had a long conversation about the relative virtues of several Halal Food Carts which we were both familiar with. I still recommend the guy in the food truck on Steinway and 34th for that particular fix.

I have not missed Manhattan at all, thought I.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

As is my habit, since I try to take advantage of the fact that I’m actually paying for the ride, the camera was busy as we exited the island of Manhattan and crossed over the spectacular Queensboro Bridge. As you can see, last Monday was one of the hot hazy and humid days which have plagued the Megalopolis for the last week or so. At least here in Queens, nobody grasps my arm and pops holes in it to draw out my blood.

Tomorrow, some shots from the City bringing the show directly to my front door.

Note: I’m writing this and several of the posts you’re going to see for the next week at the beginning of the week of Monday, July 27th. My plan is to continue doing my solo photo walks around LIC and the Newtown Creek in the dead of night as long as that’s feasible. If you continue to see regular updates here, that means everything is kosher as far as health and well being. If the blog stops updating, it means that things have gone badly for a humble narrator.

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“In the Shadows at Newtown Creek,” an 88 page softcover 8.5×11 magazine format photo book by Mitch Waxman, is now on sale at blurb.com for $30.