The Newtown Pentacle

Altissima quaeque flumina minimo sono labi

Archive for the ‘birds’ Category

peopled with

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Today’s post is for the birds.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

One remembers that time when the world was not frozen, an era when water ran freely, and there were wholesome creatures which existed in the open air. Some of these entities were classified as birds, holdovers and descendants of the mega saurians who ruled the planet in antiquity, and these bird things were actually capable of flight. This was, of course, before Ithaqua was given regency over the planet, and before New York City began to resemble the Plateau of Leng.

from wikipedia

Ithaqua is one of the Great Old Ones and appears as a horrifying giant with a roughly human shape and glowing red eyes. He has been reported from as far north as the Arctic to the Sub-Arctic, where Native Americans first encountered him. He is believed to prowl the Arctic waste, hunting down unwary travelers and slaying them gruesomely, and is said to have inspired the Native American legend of the Wendigo and possibly the Yeti.

Ithaqua’s cult is small, but he is greatly feared in the far north. Fearful denizens of Siberia and Alaska often leave sacrifices for Ithaqua—not as worship but as appeasement. Those who join his cult will gain the ability to be completely unaffected by cold. He often uses Shantaks, a dragon-like “lesser race”, as servitors. A race of subhuman cannibals, the Gnophkehs, also worshiped him, along with Rhan-Tegoth and Aphoom-Zhah.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

We dwell within now, building walls thickened by ice, cowering in the glow of electrical lights – and the burning thermonuclear eye of god itself occluded by frozen clouds. In the gloom and slush outside, shapes move about. Some are huddled masses of textiles wrapped around stiffly articulated ape things, others are vast encrustations of sodium with metallic endoskeletons and four robustly cylindrical rubber feet. The latter spews noxious gas which paints the ice black, and the former have been observed attacking the precipitants with curious tools and devices.

Remember the birds, remember the birds.

from hplovecraft.com

Searchers after horror haunt strange, far places. For them are the catacombs of Ptolemais, and the carven mausolea of the nightmare countries. They climb to the moonlit towers of ruined Rhine castles, and falter down black cobwebbed steps beneath the scattered stones of forgotten cities in Asia. The haunted wood and the desolate mountain are their shrines, and they linger around the sinister monoliths on uninhabited islands. But the true epicure in the terrible, to whom a new thrill of unutterable ghastliness is the chief end and justification of existence, esteems most of all the ancient, lonely farmhouses of backwoods New England; for there the dark elements of strength, solitude, grotesqueness, and ignorance combine to form the perfection of the hideous.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

Televisual news and information services operate in a fever pitch, describing roof collapses and downed power lines, informing and feeding a populace anxious for elevated states of emotion and experience. A new dark age is upon us, perhaps, and the foolish notion that the titans retreated out of weakness is proven out. Woe to you, mankind, for the great old ones of primal myth – those towering, all conquering masses that once ruled this planet have been awoken from their icy tombs and are on the move. The birds have survived them before, and likely will again, what of humanity however?

Leviathan, Jörmungandr, Tiamat – whatever your culture describes them as – these frozen giants whose very body can swell to continental levels – the Glaciers are returning. Lament!

also from hplovecraft.com

It is absolutely necessary, for the peace and safety of mankind, that some of earth’s dark, dead corners and unplumbed depths be let alone; lest sleeping abnormalities wake to resurgent life, and blasphemously surviving nightmares squirm and splash out of their black lairs to newer and wider conquests.

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Written by Mitch Waxman

February 5, 2014 at 12:47 pm

little visible

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It ain’t winter time this year, it’s Ragnarok.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

It’s snowing again, so hooray! It was nice being able to leave the house again this weekend, which temporarily alleviated my status as a housebound invalid. Unfortunately, today’s snow caused one to cancel an appointment with the Manhattan based team of physicians that maintain the delicate balancing act which describes my physiology. Alas, putting myself into a hospital by visiting the doctor would be the sort of ironic consequence which has and does define the miserable life path of a humble narrator.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

Dreams of tropical splendor suffuse my thoughts, although the idea of suffering insectivorous assault and the deprivations offered by fungal and bacterial infections of the skinvelope retards my desire for the warmth and blooming foliage of the equatorial band. Ultimately, everything wishes to eat something, and your humble narrator is apparently delicious to contagion and pestilence alike.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

How one misses the halcyon days of spring and summer, when gazing upon the world and recording its little lessons are governed only by the long interval between dusk and dawn. Winter is definitely not nepenthe to me, and I’ve had to reschedule the visit with my team of physicians. Later in the week, it seems, will be the day that I go to the Shining City to have wires attached and be subjected to the examinations of esoteric machinery.

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Written by Mitch Waxman

February 3, 2014 at 11:18 am

vital organs

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A boid at da Navy Yerd.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

Happy Martin Luther King Jr. birthday day, a holiday officially observed on the third Monday in January, in compliance with the Federal “Uniform Monday Holiday Act.” King’s actual birthday was January 15th. As it’s a holiday, a single shot is offered today, captured at the Brooklyn Navy Yard just last week. This is looking southwest, towards lower Manhattan, depicting a seagull photo bombing my shot. I’ve got a couple of other interesting scenes which were observed at the Navy Yard, which will be examined at this – your Newtown Pentacle – in the coming week.

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spoke deeply

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Year’s end archive shots begin.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

As mentioned last week, I’m a bit out of it and require a holiday recharge. Accordingly, a series of archive shots will be greeting you here at Newtown Pentacle until 2014 rolls into town. The shot above depicts a Jamaica Bay Cormorant, who was observed loitering at the Park Ranger’s dock at Breezy Point a few years back.

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Written by Mitch Waxman

December 23, 2013 at 7:30 am

writhing sharply

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Give thanks, or else.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

For the holiday weekend, which is ultimately a vestigial harvest festival celebrated by some post industrial nation state that occupies a third of a continent (and militarily speaking- most of the planet- for those extraterrestrials and Otaku who might be reading this), Newtown Pentacle will be in single image mode.

Now, go eat the things you are supposed to, then go do your patriotic duty and shop. Our enemies in east Australasia would prefer if you did nothing instead, and just continued to grow fatter. Your job is to go eat a bird which is native to the continent, so get to it.

The shot above depicts another sort of endemic creature infesting North America, the humble Cormorant, which is lucky enough to not be considered food by the well fed masses.

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Written by Mitch Waxman

November 28, 2013 at 7:30 am