Archive for December 2021
good test
Friday
– photo by Mitch Waxman
While scuttling home from my beloved Newtown Creek one fine evening, I noticed this industrious fellow doing industrial things in Long Island City. That piece of equipment is called a Bobcat, and I’ve always wanted one – in case of zombies. The Bobcat has a safety cage to protect the operator from construction mishaps, which would prove a fine barrier to the living dead. The scoop currently installed on the Bobcat pictured above can be changed out, and you commonly see a snow plow installed on these units during winter months. Imagine outfitting an industrial meat grinder on the front. That’ll come in handy for Zombie plague COVID OMEGA – the last Covid you’ll ever need.
I always thought Zombie movies were unrealistic. People don’t act like that in a crisis, thought I. One also opined that after the shock of the Zombie plague ameliorated a bit, America would sort that shit out quick using our usual cocktail of explosives and engineering. Imagine it – six or seven Bobcats outfitted with meat grinders moving down Fifth Avenue and behind them FDNY using fire hoses to pulse the gore into the sewers.
Always figured that’s how we’d handle a plague, no matter how grim, in the American way – with guns, industrial engineering, and municipal union labor operating on overtime.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Instead; we got Jewish Space Lasers, Murder Hornets, Nanobots, something about Nancy Pelosi eating babies to stay young, and drinking bleach. Also, Liquor can now be ordered off the internet and delivered to your house.
I had to show my face at a political event last night, and what I noticed is that everybody who works for the Government was tightly masked up, and not once did they pull it down – even during “picture time.” “They know something they’re not telling us and crossing their fingers right now” went through my mind. Despite the fact that I was booster vaxxed, and that the organizers and establishment were literally and conspicuously checking vax status at the door, I did not feel at all comfortable in the room. Split early, after getting in a brief ass kissing session with a term limited “Lord of this World.” If you say a term limited and now retired politician’s name, they return like Voldemort, so I won’t.
I’ve also found out, as I’ve been making my holiday calls to glad hand and commiserate with allies and opponents, that the recent spike in Covid numbers isn’t a myth. Neither are the tales of breakthrough infections.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
On my way to the political “room” where I executed my ass kissing, I walked past my local bar and was informed by a friend that “tonight, it’s the Christmas party, and the owner of the bar was asking where you are.” Now, this particular fellow is the one who had potentially infected me with Covid back in September, which was thankfully a false alarm for all involved but especially him since he’s an anti-vaxx. His version of the conspiracy theory revolves around Bitcoin, Bill Gates, and Biden. He’ll end all of his explanations about the incredibly complex and perfectly actuated plot to attenuate your freedoms by exclaiming “NINE-ELEVEN” at the end of his messaging. Another friend of mine recently opined that Jan. 6th was a Civil Rights March.
I spent the rest of Thursday night wandering around Long Island City’s industrial sections, all by myself.
Bobcats with meat grinders. Trucks with meat grinders. Trucks made of guns, that shoot smaller guns instead of bullets. Guns that shoot pickup trucks out of their barrels. That’s the American way.
Maybe if we started describing the vaccines as ammo? Say that there’s a shortage of vaccine ammo because Nancy Pelosi wants China to dress your kids up for church in girl’s clothing and make them listen to woke comedy so the frogs turn gay? The only way to defeat Pelosi’s agenda is to annoy her by getting ammo’d? Own the libs by getting ammo’d and showing them what snowflakes they are?
I just don’t understand anything anymore.
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abnormally impassive
Thursday
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Nothing matters, and nobody cares. The cogs of fate spin, and the inevitability is doom, so all you’ve got is now. Rejoice in the end of all things, as morals and reason are cast aside in the name of enjoying yourself. Find new ways to do so, with pleasures profane and ribald. Drink it. Eat it. Smoke it. Screw it. Swim in it. Do whatever you like. Do whatever feels good and damn the cost. Nothing matters, and nobody cares. More. More. More. That’s what Lucifer, with its mantra of free will, would tell you.
This whole sociopathic thing with me started with the Murder Hornets, remember that? Turns out that the medical world doesn’t use “sociopath” these days, and instead prefer the term “Antisocial Personality Disorder.” I stick with the dictionary version of the word, which indicates “extreme antisocial attitudes and behavior and a lack of conscience.” That’s a goal state for me. Imagine it… no conscience.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Since childhood I’ve always known that someday I’d be a doomsday prophet in Times Square, walking around with one of those sandwich boards that reads “The end is nigh.” I always imagined that I’d be wearing a spaghetti colander as a helmet, though. I’ve got the black sack cloth clothing, the wild look in the eye, all that. Call me Mitchathustra, for my whole life has led towards destitute doomsayer and troglodyte cave dweller. Tissue boxes make for good slippers, I’ll attest.
So, how’s about Christmas, huh? Ring ting tingling. There’s puppies. Lighten up, Bro, what d’ya say? Buzzkill. So dark.
Really, the healthiest thing to do at the moment is to just accept the fact that nothing matters and nobody cares. Any other point of view is simply shambolic and somewhat adolescent.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Lovecraft opined in “The Call of Cthulhu” that “Mankind would have become as the Great Old Ones; free and wild and beyond good and evil, with laws and morals thrown aside and all men shouting and killing and revelling in joy. Then the liberated Old Ones would teach them new ways to shout and kill and revel and enjoy themselves, and all the earth would flame with a holocaust of ecstasy and freedom.”
Of course, Lovecraft was a pretty ugly guy when you get down to it. Vicious racism, upper classism, and a host of other personality defects are preserved in his writing. Saying that, he certainly called out what the dissolution of American society would look like.
Happy Thursday, lords and ladies.
“follow” me on Twitter- @newtownpentacle
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dazedly following
Wednesday
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Seldom do I head down to the spot where these shots were gathered along Dutch Kills, due to the fact that I’m usually by myself when I’m out shooting. There’s a real chance of a snapped ankle on this path, or some other injury, and I honestly don’t know how I’d explain to the 911 operator where I was if I needed help (and I’ve thought this through). Thereby, since my pal Val was with me on this particular outing, caution was thrown to the wind. That’s the DB Cabin rail bridge, which – if memory serves – was built in the 1920’s, and is a still VERY active crossing for Lower Montauk line Long Island Railroad rail traffic over the mouth of the Dutch Kills tributary of Newtown Creek.
I seriously do not ever want to have to have the FDNY rescue me from some stupid injury in an out of the way place like this. It would be so embarrassing, and I’d never hear the end of it from my firefighter and or cop friends. Officer Pinky and Fireman Matt at the local bar here in Astoria – in particular – would “take the piss” as my British wife would say, since I regularly bust their balls.
Btw, he’s Officer Pinky because despite being a hulking meathead of a cop, this particular patrolman had a fractured pinky finger which put him on the disabled list for several months. The guy is built like a professional wrestler, but he had that little finger stuck out on a splint with a hand posture that reminded one of “tea time.”
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The bridge pictured above is part of the Montauk Cutoff, and is dubbed “Cabin M.” It’s inactive, and the tracks it’s connected to are no longer connected to Sunnyside Yards on the western side of the cutoff. It’s a single bascule rail drawbridge, and – again, of memory serves – dates back to the 1930’s. MTA was planning on demolishing it prior to COVID, but who knows what the future holds?
Eric Adams is said to be able to see through time and gaze at all of human history, in the manner of Dune’s God Emperor Leto the second, but he never had to sacrifice his humanity for this prescience like that fictional character from Frank Herbert’s sci-fi opus. Adams just had to ride a bike once and then go Vegan. The new Mayor will be an eidolon whom the children of New York will sing fluting aspirational songs about. Just ask him.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
From up on the bridge, my pal Val yelled down to me that it was time to split, and asked if I was interested in grabbing a meal. We headed over to the entirely adequate Bel Aire diner on Broadway and 21st street in Astoria and I quaffed a pizza burger deluxe. Yum.
More tomorrow, at this – your Newtown Pentacle.
“follow” me on Twitter- @newtownpentacle
Buy a book!
“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.
effect upon
Tuesday
– photo by Mitch Waxman
My pal Val asked if I’d accompany her on a trip to the Montauk Cutoff in LIC recently, and I said “sure.” We timed our visit to coincide with sunset. Light is especially important to plan around during winter months in NYC, given the harsh shadows which the angle of the sun offers during mid day hours. You want to be up and out of bed before dark, or roaming around just as it turns dark, this time of year.
The Montauk Cutoff is an “abandoned” set of rail tracks owned by the Long Island Railroad/MTA that starts at Long Island City’s Skillman Avenue, crosses over several streets and an avenue as well as the Dutch Kills Tributary of Newtown Creek, and comes back to ground again at the Blissville Rail Yard along Railroad Avenue. It operationally connected the LIRR’S Lower Montauk tracks to their Main Line tracks at Sunnyside Yards.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
My travels in September revealed that there’s a Railroad Avenue to be found in several cities, which is one of those intriguing “there’s a photo book in that” ideas which plague me. Sounds like a lot of expensive effort, but I might add it to my shot list for future travels.
Speaking of, I was away last week and weekend on another trip. Returned to Pittsburgh, as I was so incredibly intrigued by the place during my visit in September. Got a few nice shots, which you’ll be seeing in the new year, but which won’t be presented in the exhausting “deep dive” fashion that you saw in November.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
See what I mean about waiting for sunset during the winter? It’s the only time of day that the unremitting grayness of the dystopian shithole that is modern day NYC breaks open with a bit of colorful panache.
My pal Val’s interests in this location involved a triad of trees growing out of the abandoned rail tracks, and she was getting busy with the camera a-clicking and a-whirring while I roamed around with my rig trying to stay out of her shot. That’s the 1940 vintage Queens Midtown Expressway overflying the 1908 vintage Borden Avenue Bridge as shot from the “abandoned” 1920’s vintage Montauk Cutoff tracks.
Who says NYC’s best days are in the past?
“follow” me on Twitter- @newtownpentacle
Buy a book!
“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.
almost illegible
Monday
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Recent adventure found one at the Turning Basin of the fabulous Newtown Creek just before sunset. That’s about three in the afternoon at the moment, given that the whole “December daylight savings time thing” is in effect right now. Life gives you lemons, you make lemonade, right?
I found a great lemonade recipe last summer, actually. I use about 8 lemons for this formula, and a measured cup of table sugar. Use a vegetable peeler to remove the yellow section of the lemon peel, avoiding the pith. Put the skinned lemons into the fridge, you’ll need those later. You combine the yellow peels and sugar in a mixing bowl, which you tightly cover with plastic wrap to create a moisture seal. Let the bowl sit overnight out on the counter, and in the morning you’ll find that the sugar has turned gooey and bright yellow. That’s the lemon’s essential oils, which have leeched out into the sugar.
Dissolve the mixture with a bit of hot, not boiling but hot, water. Squeeze and juice the skinned lemons into a water pitcher, then pour the peel/sugar mixture through a strainer into the same pitcher and mix up the juice and yellowed sugar. Add cold water to the mix, and presuming you used a large enough pitcher you’ll get about a half gallon to a gallon worth of delicious and bright yellow “County Fair” style lemonade.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
It’s difficult to maintain a sense of humor these days, given how serious everyone is all the time. Hidden trip wires abound. Extreme points of view and non nuanced positions seem to rule the day.
I didn’t write the following joke, I’m just telling/passing it on. It’s my candidate for best “joke of the week” from the last quarter of 2021. (I try to have a new one in my quiver each and every week, which has been difficult due to COVID, I tell’s ya…)
‘There’s a bar near a courthouse, and a guy slams the door open upon arrival. He exclaims to the other boozehounds, at the top of his lungs, that “All Lawyers are assholes, and if any of you have an issue with what I just said, come talk to me.”
He sits down at the bar and starts drinking whiskeys. The bar is quiet, only the sound of crickets and the clinking of glasses can be heard. The guy orders a second, and then a third whiskey in dead silence. Finally, one of the other patrons stands up, walks over to him, and taps him on the shoulder roughly. The second guy says “I actually have an issue with what you said, sir.”
The first guy spins around on his stool and says “Are you a Lawyer?” The second guy says “No, I’m an asshole.’
– photo by Mitch Waxman
One was out of town for much of last week and weekend, exploring foreign shores and wonders. What a pleasure it was to be absent from the twilight days and death throes of the term limited political estate here in NYC. They really do seem to serving all of the red hot and deep fried turds up at the moment, huh? It’s almost as if they all waited until there would be no retribution at the ballot for their actions. Weren’t they all “anti big real estate” back in November before the election, or was that just a movie? Don’t worry, Eric Adams will solve the future for you. He’s incorruptible, just ask him.
One of my favorite “classic rock” bands is The Who, which was formed in 1964 by the quartet of Pete Townsend, Roger Daltrey, John Entwistle, and Keith Moon. Amongst my favorite ditties by this quartet is “Won’t get fooled again.” Here’s some of the lyrics:
‘There’s nothing in the streets, Looks any different to me, And the slogans are replaced, by-the-bye. And the parting on the left, Is now parting on the right, And the beards have all grown longer overnight, I’ll tip my hat to the new constitution, Take a bow for the new revolution, Smile and grin at the change all around, Pick up my guitar and play, Just like yesterday, Then I’ll get on my knees and pray, We don’t get fooled again, Don’t get fooled again, no, no
Yeah, Meet the new boss, Same as the old boss’
“follow” me on Twitter- @newtownpentacle
Buy a book!
“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.
The Newtown Pentacle 