Hills/dale
Wednesday
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Constitutional in motivation, I’m nevertheless always carrying a camera kit with me on the long walks that I’m forced to endure – as long time readers will attest. Endure has been a proper adjective in recent years, as a paucity of any remaining youthfulness left in me is draining away, leaving behind only a gray and wrinkled husk. I once was pretty, and not the monster you now see. What I see in the bathroom mirror looks like a dehydrated sweet potato with a gray beard.
Also, in those cheeky years of blessed memory when your narrator was young but already humble, standing up after sitting in a chair wasn’t accompanied by any popping or cracking noises, nor did I often wonder about how I hurt myself while asleep.
Soldier on, and steady, old man…
I was crossing the Allegheny River on the Fort Duquesne Bridge, and my short term goal was to get to the neighboring Fort Pitt Bridge so as to cross the Monongahela River.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The Fort Duquesne Bridge (the fort thing here dates back to the French and Indian War and George Washington – all that jazz) overflies Point State Park, which is a well used peninsular public space and the titular center of Pittsburgh. At this park, you can pick up the pedestrian/bike path for the Fort Pitt Bridge, which I was heading for next.
Often, I like to ponder about the cloud of epithelial dust that peels off of my withering body while moving about. Pain is my oldest and most loyal friend, after all, but continual decay is still somewhat novel. No matter what happens, pain is always there, and part of the journey. Leaving behind a cloud of skin cells in my wake is just a plus, and novel.
When I had my initial appointment with a new Doctor here in Pittsburgh just last year, I drew a chart of all my physical complaints. The cartoon depicted a humble narrator in a style not unlike the patient from the board game ‘Operation.’ It had call outs to specific maladies, and I used lightning bolt iconography to indicate areas of mystery pain. The Doc was amused, and told me that this was a first for him, in his thirty years of practice. What can I say? I communicate most effectively in graphic narrative.
I’m all ‘effed up.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Finally, I surmounted the ramp leading to the Fort Pitt Bridge and began my crossing of the thing, which spans the Monongahela River. This is a fairly muddy river – I’d mention – hence the tan coloration encountered.
Because of the Hudson and Mississippi, I have a mental block and prejudice towards the idea that rivers don’t just run south, but there we iconoclastically are. The ‘Mon’ ends up in Pittsburgh after a long 130 mile northeasterly journey out of West Virginia, and along its run it picks up a lot of soils. This is just about the end of its trip, where it joins with the Allegheny to form the Ohio River.
This whole ‘getting old’ thing is kind of a drag, but I’m enjoying the challenge of not just keeling over and dying so there’s that. Wait, my left ear just fell off, and I’m out of superglue. Dag.
Back tomorrow.
“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 
Leave a comment