Archive for October 16th, 2026
Dragon Spittle
Friday
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Everybody, and everything, hates me instinctively and innately on sight.
One has mentioned that cats hiss, dogs squeal, old ladies start to clutch at their purses, and flower blossoms close up as if it’s nighttime as I’m approaching. The human’s eyes grow wide, they scan my hands for possible weaponry, and my intent is often questioned.
I haven’t been chased by a mob of torch bearing commoners to an old mill yet, but I did once get chased by a group of old Greek ladies coming out of St. Irene’s in Astoria who became convinced that the presence of a camera in my hand indicated I was a member of Al Qaeda. True story.
This presumption of ‘stranger danger’ is nothing new to me, as I even used to catch ‘shade’ and suspicion when I was a little kid.
One has never understood this reaction that I engender in the gentry.
I don’t even litter, let alone paint graffiti, or do much more else than just simply walk around with a camera.
One of my little aphorisms demands that I leave behind nothing in my wake but footprints, wherever I go. I famously carry any trash I might generate along my path with me until a proper receptacle is found. I pay my tax, play music at low volumes, drive sanely and more or less within the posted speed restrictions. I’m the guy who’ll call 911 for strangers and wait with them until the ambulance arrives.
Sheesh!
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Everybody hates me, on sight, basically.
One thing I’ve learned over the years is that most of the people who’ve known me will believe and embrace almost anything negative that’s said, no matter how crazy it sounds. I often have to explain this situation to new people who are entering my sphere, lest they believe me to be a paranoid, or become influenced by the ‘chorus.’
Your humble narrator thereby has to behave in a stiff and curiously upright manner while moving through the world, given that if someone might have said:
‘I saw Mitch – he was wearing a bright yellow bikini while shaving kittens down to skin, and then throwing them into Newtown Creek, after tattooing his ‘effin blog’s logo on them.’ The answer coming back from the receiver of that news would likely be ‘Yeah, I could see him doing that, what a jerk.’
(as a note: there’s no logo for this blog, I’ve never shaved a kitten, wouldn’t know which end of a tattoo machine to use, and the only thing I’ve ever ‘thrown’ into Newtown Creek was the time that I accidentally dropped an air blower from my camera kit on the Grand Street Bridge, and the thing bounced away from me and landed in the drink)
Literally – my whole life. Pariah.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Yeah, I know. If something is coming at you from everywhere and everyone, it’s not ‘them,’ it’s you. You’re the commonality.
Bah! Best to retreat to the lonely places, that’s where I belong and where the human infestation is less likely to reach out to touch or hurt me.
I don’t belong in the company of men, the jungle is my home…
A recent walk through one of Pittsburgh’s parks, which is spanned by the Mission Street Bridge, revealed a set of city steps which fall off of it and since I was passing by the very top of that set of steps on this day…
Rooty, rooty, zoot.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Something peculiar was occurring to the steel or iron bannister along these steps. It looked like something was dissolving the metal.
An engineer buddy of mine saw these shots and immediately came back with ‘concrete efflorescence,’ and continued that ‘lime was leaching out of the concrete drips’ and dissolving the metal.
How long has this been going on, and how much longer will it be before somebody decides to blame me for it?
‘Didja hear about Mitch? He’s dissolving metal bannisters in Pittsburgh now, what an icehole… Yeah, I could see him doing that…’
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The lower bannister has been severed by this process – wow. Check out that splash on the step – here’s a close up of the splash pile.
My engineer buddy continued on, telling me that this is the same process by which stalagmites and stalactites are formed in caves.
The engineer doesn’t seem to hate me yet, but I’ll just give that one some time. Everyone comes around eventually, to hating me. Apparently, if you haven’t burnt me in effigy yet, you’re missing out.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
By the way – I’m not being paranoid or weird here – it’s lived experience.
I’m sort of ok with somebody hating me after they’ve gotten to know me, but the whole hissing cat and ‘shade’ thing from passing strangers just freaks me out.
Back next week with more paranoia – 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.
