The Newtown Pentacle

Wednesday

– photo by Mitch Waxman

Well, happy summertime, I guess. The Newtown Pentacle Time Warp (patent pending) is still in effect, as your humble narrator has somehow managed to maintain his ‘good month or so’ of ‘lead time’ on these posts. The photos in today’s post were captured at the very end of April, and the words you’re reading were encoded at the end of May.

In yesterday’s post, the latest scuttle had begun, which saw my horrific countenance appear on Pittsburgh’s Mount Washington. The path for this day started on a particularly steep, and serpentine, street called Sycamore – which I’d only driven upon in the past.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

Y’know, if this was NYC, I’d be able to say ‘east,’ ‘west’… all that… and then refer to something about the sun disappearing behind New Jersey. I’m of the opinion that the point of view in the shot above is ‘more or less’ north, but I’m often wrong about things. Ask anyone.

People just love to point out when I’m wrong about something or other. Not in the way I’d hope, where you point out something evidentiary that I missed and I’d offer Mea Culpas while presenting your evidence here in a seperate post. Instead: No. It’s not real, that’s AI. Used to be ‘that’s not real it’s photoshop.’

‘You said ‘such and such’ happened on July 1st, but it was 12:01 am on July 2nd, so thereby you’re wrong about every single assertion you’ve ever offered.’ I’m also a big fan of when somebody decides what my politics must be because I took a picture of a train or something.

Funnily enough, I don’t have any problem with being corrected, as that’s how you learn things that are outside of your experience.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

We seem to be living in a ‘no second chances’ stage of the American culture. The rules of morality shift and change every day, and what was ‘kosher’ last year may be heresy now. There is no room whatsoever for people to evolve, get educated, or earn redemption for past sins. You must be emotionally and politically perfect, from infanthood, and naturally.

If not – deeply problematic – as the Millenials would say.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

Sycamore Street’s course consists of a series of switchbacks which carry it from the apex of Mount Washington’s ridge line down to the flood plain of the Monongahela River, coming to ground in the ‘South Side Flats’ zone.

There aren’t any sidewalks on this section, as it’s kind of a narrowed roadway path. What kind of a moron would actually want to walk this way, anyway? Why not just take the incline?

I should mention – It’s bad, between the ears right now.

A humble narrator finds himself existing in a constancy of annoyance. Cortisol levels are high, and internal rage is epic. A constant struggle is under way to ‘just pretend.’ Luckily, when out scuttling, I’m all by myself and don’t have to engage in the fantasy that World War 3 isn’t right around the next corner. Speaking of…

– photo by Mitch Waxman

Along the route, elevated trestles carry other roadways.

The one flying through the shot above is called the PJ McArdle roadway, which I’ve walked down several times in the past. There’s a car lot nearby, for a park’s hiking trail I haven’t experienced yet. It’s something which I’ve been holding off doing, due to the lingering annoyances emanating from the orthopedic incident and the fact that it’s ‘natural’ ground.

The broken ankle was a profound injury, actually, which seems to have changed me in weird ways. Beyond the helplessness and crazy amounts of pain experienced during the injury’s immediate aftermath, and the severity of the PTSD symptoms which I’ve been bitching about related to stairs, it’s been a year since I’ve started really moving around again and yet – the recovering joint still offers periodic surprises.

On this day, for instance, a wicked cramp popped up in a calf muscle. Big whup, I know, but this was the kind of cramp you can plainly see playing out under the skin. Looked like a snake was moving around inside my calf! Yikes!

I needed a quick break.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

Luckily, some truck based business located mid slope, on a carved out flat lot, seems to have exited the space and their parking pad was available to me for a quick respite. I found a quick ‘sit down’ spot, and rubbed my non camera holding hand upon the limb, until the blood started flowing in a predictable manner again.

Back tomorrow.

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