Archive for October 27th, 2026
End of a wide angled scuttle in Pittsburgh
Tuesday
– photo by Mitch Waxman
A few last shots from a medium long walk in Pittsburgh, one that started off in the Oakland section and then wandered southerly towards the Monongahela River and the Birmingham Bridge. There were still a couple/three miles between me and the T Light Rail station where I’d catch a ride back to HQ.
I’ve been learning how the ‘kids talk about the world’ these days, so I’ll throw in some aura talk…
My aura would have been a sickly pulsating but dull olive green, a color which might interpret as diarrhea brown/tan color. A scuttling mass of insecurities and regrets, perhaps that’s why I’m so reviled, and my aura reveals me. Everybody loves to hate and condemn a humble narrator, and the entire world seems compelled to remind me of every failing.
While crossing this bridge, I looked down at the surface of the river and a whole school of tiny fish just suddenly popped up to the surface, saw me, and then all died. A flock of birds landed in the water, to take advantage of the feast, then they looked up at me and they also died from some sort of toxic shock as well. I’m pestilential.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
It’s a bit of a palaver – in an automobile – to access this bridge, let alone when you’re doing so on foot. Two lefts and a sharp right if you’re driving the car. On foot, it’s walking on busted sidewalks alongside a busy road without a single sign saying ‘go this way, icehole.’
What was happening within my personal aura of horror and regret?
The ankle was singing its song, my back hurt a bit from carrying the camera bag, and whereas it was my turn to cook dinner when I got home, I had zero ideas for what form that might take. Anxiety bloomed.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Birmingham Bridge connects the south side of Oakland, the ‘academic district,’ with the ‘South Side’ neighborhood. As I understand it, these are modern conceits as both sides of the river used to be occupied by the J&L Steel manufacturing outfit.
‘South Side’ as a descriptor includes the sub neighborhoods ‘South Side Works,’ ‘South Side Flats,’ and ‘South side Slopes.’ When I’ve asked the locals about where the borders are, the answer is vague. The exact jigsaw puzzle of ‘this hood starts here, and ends there’ remains elusive.
I used to enjoy vast wandering arguments back in Queens about where Astoria ended, or where Woodside or East Elmhurst started. (hint: NY Connecting Railroad makes for a neat border marker… just saying.)
I am not intelligent enough about Pittsburgh to declare to you that after leaving Oakland and walking across the bridge, I had entered an area on the South Side which was once called Birmingham. Ask anyone.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
On the southern terminus of the span, a set of stairs awaits.
This is one of the assemblies of rises and runs which specifically triggers the PTSD symptomology, left over from the broken ankle incident. I am incapable of walking down this set of particular set of steps without clutching at the bannister. Given the amount of gear hanging about my person, and the presence of a camera in my right hand… this one was leftie’s show. It is so weird, the way this new phobia of mine works.
Another new phobia I’m enjoying at the moment involves something called ‘Cervical Decapitation,’ a gruesome injury and fate which sees your spinal cord mostly severed, but there’s still enough electrical connection left behind for your head to continue working all the gear in your chest and belly. From the collarbone down, you’re a bag of uncontrollable meat and bone cursed with a still working internal battery of the usual organs, but up top your brain is trapped in its malfunctioning box of skull. You may, or may not, be able to communicate with the outside world. Wow.
From the collar up, Cervical Decapitation basically turns you into the main character in a Metallica song. Brrr.
This… this is actually why everyone hates me, as I’ll bring this sort of thing up with random people – a lot – at weddings or Bar Mitzvahs. Nobody wants to contemplate these horrors, or discuss the historical consequences of coal mining, or hear why the Hexavalent Chromium which was recently uncovered in Brooklyn’s Greenpoint, as part of the continuing build out of luxury housing along the fabulous Newtown Creek, is consequential.
As a note, on a list of chemical compounds which are certain to kill you, there’s descriptors you can apply like ‘kills you in 40 years,’ ‘kills you in 20 years,’ ‘kills you quick,’ and then there’s Hexavalent Chromium.
If I was to start a heavy metal band, it would be called ‘Hexavalent Chromium,’ and we would play music so hardcore that it could rewrite your cellular RNA in a manner that encoded the music, and kidney cancer, onto your heir’s geonomes…
– photo by Mitch Waxman
I worry about sinkholes and not falling into them, practice hyper vigilant monitoring of my immediate vicinity for possible angles of attack by members of the human infestation, or Canada Gooses, and constantly check my pockets to ensure that I haven’t lost any of the discrete pieces of gear which I have secreted about my person.
One of these days, I’m going to offer a list here. Everything I’ve learned that it’s best to have with you at all times, from my ‘three quarters’ to the ‘two flashlights,’ and the sandwich bag which I carry several feet of parachord within. That’s just a start, I’ve also got a compass.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The T carried me back to Dormont, whereupon I’d decided that it would be a chicken dinner that would be on offer that night, with a side of broccoli and some rice we had left over from the night before.
One big change in my life, since moving to Pittsburgh, is that unlike NYC – being lazy and ordering ‘take out’ hasn’t been much of an option here. I’ve got a suburban home sized kitchen now, which doesn’t randomly manifest plagues of insectoid or rodentine pests like my place in Astoria used to.
Biggest rodent related problem for me right now are the plethora of Lagomorphs and Squirrels in my back yard, all of which Moe the Dog wishes to murder.
Back tomorrow, with something different.
“follow” me on Twitter- @newtownpentacle
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“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.
