Archive for the ‘Long Island City’ Category
no fantasy
Mr. Waxman’s short break continues.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Another shot from the archives today, this time depicting a fuel tanker discharging its load into the holding tanks of a Northern Blvd. filling station. Oh, the luxuries I enjoy during these intervals of archive shot presentation. Amenities abound here in Astoria, and one intends to enjoy them entirely.
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no dream
Another archive shot, today from Queens.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The Long Island Expressway squats and sags over Borden Avenue as it returns to ground nearby Greenpoint Avenue at the border of Blissville and Long Island City. My little break is turning out to be kind of productive, so look forward to some cool stuff in the near future. Also, I’ve got a couple of shots in an article at today’s NY Daily News- check it out.
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scrawled upon
One of my favorite archive shots today.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Your humble narrator was up on the bridge serving the City as a Parade Marshall during the Queensboro Centennial Celebration back in 2009 while down on the streets, a movie crew was readying for the days shoot. This was an Angelina Jolie film, “Salt” I believe, and I couldn’t resist the shot. It’s great when a group of professionals that somebody else is paying dresses a theatrical set in view of my camera.
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discern nothing
Always moving, no place to go.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
As one who detests entering the Subway system, it fits neatly within New York City’s macabre sense of humor to force me to enter the labyrinth on a fairly regular basis. The fits of depth born panic and revulsion suffered whilst encased in the rotting concrete bunkers must be controlled. It would be untoward to inflict my own insecurities and phobias upon those fellow unfortunates traveling alongside me, and positively dismissive of a social order in which “anything goes.” Why shouldn’t one defecate in public?
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Fear of offering loquacious discomforts to others isn’t something reflected by the general population, for course. It would be ridiculous to complain about the manner in which some behave while down here. Eating fried and highly aromatic dishes, performing basic grooming of hair and nails, or applying face paint- there are those for whom the Subway is an extension of the home. Last week, a woman I was sitting next to was utilizing the atomizer of a perfume bottle to liberally paint the confined air, and the rest of us, with her chosen scent.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
It must be a wonderful thing, to be so confident in one’s self. The thought of exposing one’s private moments in such a brazen fashion is beyond me, as I was urged during toilet training to consider certain acts as “private.” Just the other day I was thinking, while watching a mid 40’s woman squeezing out a zit on the R train, that we really need to reintroduce the concept of shame and shunning back into society. You are not, my pimply friend, simply “free to be you and me” when out amongst the other humans. Decorum, please.
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atavistical menace
Welcome to the darker side of the year.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Call it what you will. There’s Samhain, and Calan Gaeaf, and we’ve also got All Hallows’ Eve – but it’s just Halloween here at Newtown Pentacle HQ. 2013 has been a slow one for the occult and magick beat, I’m afraid. Haven’t been able to bring you much more than a few headless chickens found on the rail tracks in Maspeth, actually. It’s not that I haven’t been looking, mind you, but I just keep on finding singular shoes divorced from their mated pair. Try and convince me that there isn’t some serial killer at work behind this phenomena, I dare you.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
A lurking fear of mine is the sure knowledge that there are rats in the walls. Just beyond the reach of station lights, they squirm and breed and hunger. Remember last year- directly following the storm- when concerns about this rodent army leaving the flooded tunnel system to try their luck above ground, in the darkened streets of lower Manhattan, were openly debated? Who can guess all there is, that might be down there?
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Manhattan terrifies. Its teeming masses yearn to breathe free, but are forced to congregate in the great human hive in the name of industry. The atmosphere hosts a thriving variety of bacterial and viral specie, which float along on gusts of contaminant laden air from host to host. Pandemic is inevitable, and it would not be the first time either. First Cholera, then Typhus, Tuberculosis, and Influenza have historically cut great swaths of the population down on this crowded island. Always there are those who cannot afford to be sick, and are forced to go about their business with the affect and manner of the walking dead.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Halloween though, isn’t about some mad serial killer operating in Queens, or an army of starving rats emerging from the Subways to feast, nor some plague that renders its victims with a virulent visage reminiscent of the living dead. Instead, it’s about spectral menaces rising from graveyards to wander the land in search of living souls to take back to hell with them, silly. The Danse Macabre is underway, so watch out Newtownicans, for evil of the most vile sort is afoot.
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The Newtown Pentacle 