Archive for the ‘Brooklyn’ Category
calm alabaster
“follow” me on Twitter at @newtownpentacle
– photo by Mitch Waxman
If one doth dare, acknowledging and admiring the languid splendors of the Newtown Creek from midstream is neither commonplace nor ordinary. Intellectual inebriation is experienced by one such as myself while engaged in ribald contemplation of the place.
Ineffable wonder surmounts the water body, and no place is more steeped in legend and litigation than the southern banks found between Greenpoint and Meeker Avenues in infinite Brooklyn.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
In focus this day, here at your Newtown Pentacle, are the fuel tanks which betray the presence of the British Petroleum (formerly Amoco) facility at Apollo Street. This was a sliver of the gargantuan Standard Oil works, a bulk storage yard built on the property in 1969 by the fore mentioned Amoco oil corporation.
Refining of petroleum distillates ceased on Newtown Creek in 1966, and the local oil business in modernity is all about storage and distribution.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The BP yard is 9.98 acres, hosting one underground and eleven above ground tanks with an overall capacity of 5,902,512 gallons of storage. There is Kerosene, Gasoline, Ethanol, and #2 fuel oil in supply- all of which are available for bulk purchase by local companies.
Additionally, there’s eight dual phase recovery wells on site which, as of 2011, had siphoned some 21,500 gallons of petroleum from deep underground. That’s where a story that started during the 1880’s actually began in 1978.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Apollo Street in Greenpoint Brooklyn, where the Locust Hill refinery fire happened, and where the Standard Oil operation once towered, is pretty close to ground zero of the infamous and much referred to “Greenpoint Oil Spill”. In 1978, when a Coast Guard helicopter pilot first noticed that oil was oozing from the bulkheads of Newtown Creek- it was right across Apollo from the BP yard, at a former Paragon Oil terminal owned in modernity by a beverage importer and distributor.
In the shot above, the spot to look for are the three garage doors on the cream colored building just beyond the tanks. That’s where the Coast Guard first spotted the plume.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
As a point of fact, however, it should be mentioned that the traditional manner in which Americans pronounce the word “Oil”- Oy Uhl – is incorrect in North Brooklyn.
Around these parts the way to say that word is simply “Erl”.
“Greenspoints Erl Spell” is what “Greenpoint Oil Spill” should sound like, if pronounced in proper Brooklyn patois.
opiate gardens
“follow” me on Twitter at @newtownpentacle
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Imagine the surprise exhibited by Our Lady of the Pentacle and your humble narrator, when we raised the periscope from the bunker this morning, and found that the world above was intact and that the veracity and reliability of the Mayan Calendar had been overstated. Oh well, maybe next time.
Accordingly, back to the business at hand, and familiar places.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Witness, if you wouldst, this fascinating scene observed in noble Greenpoint’s northwestern quarter, specifically the warren of mostly industrial streets which span the area between Provost Street and Mcguinness Blvd. The van pictured in the shot appears to have suffered a bit of damage, perhaps running afoul of the Hulk.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
This van’s repair job displays a purity of the Brooklyn, and particularly Greenpoint, mentality which would be difficult to explain to outsiders. Such displays of reckless engineering, utilitarian ingenuity, and disregard for the safety of passengers- are one of the reasons that your humble narrator is thankful for the distinct lack of apocalyptic conditions discovered this morning.
ex oblivione
“follow” me on Twitter at @newtownpentacle
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Somehow, I’ve always known that I was destined to write the eulogy for the human race. Like yesterday’s posting, this one was written a couple of days in advance of the Mayan Apocalypse as Our Lady of the Pentacle and myself have sealed ourselves away in a sub astorian survival bunker with our little dog. Can’t imagine who might be reading this, or how, but epitaphs are required, I suppose.
Mayan Apocalypse Countdown: just 0 days left until the 13th b’ak’tun ends, initiating the Mayan Apocalypse. Today is December 21st, here comes the end of all there ever was and will be. Sayonara.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The devastation must be unendurable up there, with glowing clouds of radioactive dust illuminating the sooty black fumes billowing from an incinerated city. Has the cannibal instinct kicked in yet for the survivors, or do they yet cling to some myth of civilization?
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The terrifying part, for the scientifically minded, must be the presence of the beasts of revelation. Those impossibly huge brass shelled locusts, the abominations of the sea, the fleets of alien warships plying the skies. Nibiru must be occluding the burning thermonuclear eye of god itself, rendering a permanent twilight with sooty gray clouds underlit by the crimson and orange of vain glory and hubris.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Down in the bunker, Our Lady and I plan on making hot cocoa today. Ruminations about our former lives are undoubtedly going to be a topic of conversation. The still suits we ordered from Amazon will provide us with an endless cycle of reclaimed urine, and the tons of MRE’s we have stockpiled should keep we apes and the canine happily fed.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The purpose of this posting, which Im sure will never be read by purely human eyes, is to eulogize the planet and all life upon it in general- not to gloat over my own safety and preparedness. In my former life on the surface, I once had the pleasure of meeting Douglas Adams- author of the Hitchikers Guide to the Galaxy, who was a fine and clever chap. The ending of human civilization merits a quotation from the great satirist, I believe, so here goes: “So long, and thanks for all the fish”.
I will keep posting as long as the power holds out, good luck to all of you on the surface, and I- for one- welcome our new alien overlords.
Welcome to the 14th b’ak’tun.
fevered state
“follow” me on Twitter at @newtownpentacle
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Gaze in wonder upon the fabled Newtown Creek of the 21st century, whereupon a tug of the Poling and Cutler towing organization wrestles a fuel barge in a westerly course toward the East River. A famously repeated phrase offered by your humble narrator boldly states that “in the late 19th and early 20th century, Newtown Creek carried more commercial traffic than the entire Mississippi River”, a statement which often causes listeners to roll their eyes. It is inconceivable, given the modern appearance of the Creek and its banks, to believe this statement. Some ask me whether or not tugs and barges even operate along the Newtown Creek in this dystopian future we have all found ourselves living in.
– photo by nycma.lunaimaging.com, September 11, 1903
Gaze, thereby, upon the Newtown Creek of 1903. This is roughly the same spot, with the Chelsea fiber mill (modern day Manhattan Avenue and GMDC) on the southern (left) or Greenpoint bank and the Newtown Creek towing company docks on the right or LIC bank (modern day Vernon Blvd. street end). Another shot emanating from the NYC Municipal Archives, this is one of the few extant photographic records of the Newtown Creek’s zenith as the “workshop of America” at the height of the second industrial revolution.
lurk unseen
– photo by Mitch Waxman
As mentioned a day or two ago, your humble narrator is currently incapacitated due to a lower back injury. Manifestations of my inferior physical robustness such as this pop up occasionally, serving as reminders of a weak and sickly childhood. Seldom does one go more than a few weeks without some new complaint, which when compounded with the diminishment of advancing years, paints dire portents about long term survival.
from wikipedia
Back pain is regularly cited by national governments as having a major impact on productivity, through loss of workers on sick leave. Some national governments, notably Australia and the United Kingdom, have launched campaigns of public health awareness to help combat the problem, for example the Health and Safety Executive’s Better Backs campaign. In the United States lower back pain’s economic impact reveals that it is the number one reason for individuals under the age of 45 to limit their activity, second highest complaint seen in physician’s offices, fifth most common requirement for hospitalization, and the third leading cause for surgery.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Those around me grow increasingly wary watching this process working upon me. Extraordinary effort at maintaining an appearance and facade of bon vivant and vigor fall apart when these sudden spells occur. Unfortunately, this is my true self- timorous and wracked with an inconceivable number of physical maladies. For the moment, it is difficult to surmount a shallow set of stairs, let alone perform a perambulation.
from wikipedia
The lumbar region (or lower back region) is made up of five vertebrae (L1-L5). In between these vertebrae lie fibrocartilage discs (intervertebral discs), which act as cushions, preventing the vertebrae from rubbing together while at the same time protecting the spinal cord. Nerves stem from the spinal cord through foramina within the vertebrae, providing muscles with sensations and motor associated messages. Stability of the spine is provided through ligaments and muscles of the back, lower back and abdomen. Small joints which prevent, as well as direct, motion of the spine are called facet joints (zygapophysial joints).
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Pain, aside from the psychological torments and thwarted ambitions which are part and parcel of my daily round, is something I am quite used to. The particular complaint in my lower back has all the appearance of something temporary, a visitor for the holidays sent to remind me that time is short, and that despite all- I am human, all too human. At least I still have a heated and electrified house to live in, which seems to be a blessing in the New York City area these days. My little dog, however, seems quite concerned about me and has been sticking to my heels.
from wikipedia
Before the relatively recent discovery of neurons and their role in pain, various different body functions were proposed to account for pain. There were several competing early theories of pain among the ancient Greeks: Aristotle believed that pain was due to evil spirits entering the body through injury, and Hippocrates believed that it was due to an imbalance in vital fluids. In the 11th century, Avicenna theorized that there were a number of feeling senses including touch, pain and titillation, but prior to the scientific Renaissance in Europe pain was not well-understood, and it was thought that pain originated outside the body, perhaps as a punishment from God.
The Newtown Pentacle 