The Newtown Pentacle

Thursday

– photo by Mitch Waxman

Merry New Year, lords and ladies, with this post marking the start of a short scuttle’s chronicle, as well as being the start of 2026’s folderol.

It was a mid-December’s Monday in Pittsburgh, quite a cold and gray day for a scuttle. Your humble narrator wrapped himself thoroughly with an under suit of thermal garments, hidden from prying eyes beneath that swirling black sackcloth which forms my normal outer shell. The filthy black raincoat formed the most outré of the layers.

One was traveling light, using a sling bag to carry bare essentials, and had a zoom lens installed on the camera. Above, you’ll notice my ‘gray card’ shot, which is generally the first thing I do when leaving HQ. Pursuit of setting up base setting for the camera’s exposure triangle which I’d be working around for that day is why. This was captured directly in front of the house, and looks up the steep hill HQ is at the bottom of, and whose summit allows one pedestrian egress to a light rail station.

Horrible in aspect, one nevertheless launched himself forward. In the distance, an air raid siren sounded. The siren summons the volunteer fire department together, as a note. I prefer to think it’s a general alarm signaling to all concerned that your humble narrator is out and about.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

As has become my custom, a shot of a T light rail unit moving ‘away from Pittsburgh’ was captured, rather than the one ‘to Pittsburgh.’ I just like the POV better for the ‘away’ viewpoint, what with the catenaries and such.

I had no specific plan for this scuttle, wasn’t ‘trying’ to catch something specific, just ‘walking here.’

It’d been a few days since the last effort, and I needed to push some force through the legs to stretch out all the rubber bands and pinions. The Pittsburgh bound ‘T’ arrived and then boarded, I paid my fare, and found a seat while continuing with a relisten of ‘The History of Rome’ podcast by Mike Duncan. I was listening to episodes that bridged the Gracchi Brothers to Sulla period on this day. That’s when the politicians in Rome began to employ private armies.

That’ll probably be at the end of 2026 for our Republic. Caesar is coming.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

As described previously, it’s about a 25-35 minute ride from Dormont on the T service to its terminal stop on Pittsburgh’s North Shore.

‘Essentials’ in the camera bag: a flash light, two prime lenses with bright apertures in addition to the zoom lens on the camera, a kitchen towel, a rocket air blower and a lens cloth, a pack of gum, and a couple of spare camera batteries.

I find having a cloth towel with me immensely handy, but I’m a Douglas Adams fan, and he would advise that it’s always good advice to carry a small towel about.

My very first freelance art job back in the 1980’s involved computer graphics (generated on a Commodore 64), which would be then be inserted into scanned photos of Douglas Adams for use in a ‘flip book’ which would animate a cup and saucer of tea landing in his hand. I got to meet and spend a little him during the photo shoot part of that job. He told me the story behind the towel thing, btw., as I had pointedly asked about it.

A young Douglas Adams was on holiday in Spain. He stripped naked at a beach to go swimming, leaving both his clothing and a towel on the sand. He returned from his swim and found that someone had stolen his clothing, and all he had to cover ‘himself’ with on the way back to his hotel was the towel. So… that’s what the man himself told a 19 or 20 year old version of your humble narrator. Nice guy, Adams, in my limited experience.

I was a fan, of course, but this encounter with him gave me some false hope that writers and artists whose work I like, whom I might meet in the future, would be similarly ‘cool guys and gals.’ Not so. Don’t meet your heroes is my advice.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

The T arrived at its terminal stop, nearby Acrisure Stadium, where the Pittsburgh Steelers dwell. As is my habit, I hung around a minute or two until all the other passengers had debarked, and then adjusted my various camera and bag straps, floating about amidst all those layers of warming garments draped about my loathsome physical firmament.

I’m all ‘effed up, mind you, and I’m talking in the physical sense as opposed to my thought process. The orthopedic agonies of 2025 forced me into sitting postures for too long. Everything hurts, and the only way to make it stop hurting is to make it hurt more until it starts hurting less and then something else can start hurting more.

This particular walk was a compromise that I made with myself, given the climate available during the interval. Rain, snow, ice, all that were in the forecast. This was the only day of the week during which precipitant concerns wouldn’t apply, but it was gray, and windy, and really cold. The kind of day that makes your nose run, but doesn’t draw tears.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

Hey, lookit, somebody lost their Narcan on the bench. Hope they’re ok.

Like some sort of putrescent jelly, your humble narrator narrowly slithered over to an escalator, and then to another to street level. Scuttling out onto the sidewalk surrounding the elevated light rail station, a series of ultramundane decisions were made. A path was decided upon!

– photo by Mitch Waxman

Basically, I decided to go ‘that way.’ Like I said, ultramundane.

Back tomorrow with more – at this – your Newtown Pentacle.

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