Archive for the ‘Photowalks’ Category
lavishly laden
Parked on my block, a childhood aspiration.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Saturday last was a challenging day, and after performing certain actions and accomplishing a few obligations one headed back to HQ back in Astoria. Upon arriving on my block, one discovered a true American relic parked on the street – a 1980 Pontiac Trans AM!
– photo by Mitch Waxman
This particular line of automobiles held a sacred place in my teenage heart, although I favored the black variant with the gold eagle on the hood made famous by Burt Reynolds in the “Smokey and the Bandit” franchise of films back then (& now).Remembrances of building more than one plastic scale model of the 1980 Trans Am over the years comes to mind.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Competition in the form of the Camaro forced a change in body design sometime later in the 1980’s, a period of time when the American auto industry first lost its way and began the process of homogenizing their lineups. In the end, the Camaro and Trans Am became nearly identical fiberglass bodied vehicles.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The late 70’s and early 80’s Trans Am’s were late in the game muscle cars, driven hard by young drivers (guys mostly), and this one looks as if its been well taken care of bit did have a whole lot of cosmetic issues. Its amazing seeing one of these at all, as this is a thirty four year old car.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Back in the middle 1980’s, there used to be an impromptu drag strip which drew fast cars and idiot teenagers together on a backwater street found somewhere between East New York, Starret City, and Howard Beach which is called Fountain Avenue. I used to go there occasionally, and watch a few races. It’s since been resurfaced with a series of waves to discourage the racing.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
One night, some guy driving a souped up Trans Am floored the gas pedal when the flag dropped, signaling the start of the race. Spinning, his wheels produced a choking veil of smoke until the tires caught traction. It was all very dramatic. At the end of the course, which was the equivalent of about two blocks away, his rear wheels were still smoking and one had little wisps of blue flame at its base.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Illegal drag racing aside, I still want one of these cars, and the logo you see on the hood of this car is the singular image which one would consider getting as a tattoo. This logo is all hot dogs and coca cola and fried chicken and pretty girls who are wearing bikinis and cowboy hats while they’re playing baseball and some guy drinks Budweiser and smokes a Marlboro while thinking about … you get the idea.
Welcomes to Astoria, we got yer Americana, rights overs heres, bro.
“follow” me on Twitter- @newtownpentacle
furious delirium
Your music sucks, why do you play it so loud?
– photo by Mitch Waxman
In the midst of everything else, a humble narrator has to worry about getting the laundry done, which is not always as easy a proposition as it sounds like. More often than not, indecision about the logical process by which one arrives at some sort of conclusion about whether a soiled garment should be considered for the “colors” or “darks” bags reduces one to gibbering madness. Crouched in the corner of the room, wild eyed and slaked with cold perspiration, I often find myself impaled on the horns of dilemma. That navy blue shirt… where does it belong? Does it belong? Where do any of us belong? This is why I largely dress in black.
All ‘effed up, me.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Dire portent abounds. A general tension is palpable, and even the normally laconic army of bicycle delivery guys seem tense, here amongst the raven tressed hillocks of Western Queens. As one sorts his socks and towels, preparing them for drop off at the local laundry shepherd, a distinct sensation of dread permeates the atmosphere hereabouts. Even my little dog Zuzu seems to sense approaching calamity, as she drums her claws across the worn floorboards. At least the humidity seems to have broken.
I fear the polar vortex itself might return, carrying with it certain things which Esquimaux legend only hints at, and am quite unsure if I should send certain articles of Our Lady of the Pentacle’s wardrobe to the laundromat or segregate them out for dry cleaning.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Were this the 21st century that a humble narrator was promised, when still an innocent moppet – the one which had jet packs and moving sidewalks and flying cars – we’d all be dressed in self cleaning space age fabrics which would obviate little need for the services of the laundry shepherds. These were supposed to be “onesies,” or speed suits as Dr. Venture would refer to them, whose coloration would be indicative of social rank. Unfortunately, the world we’ve got is neither “Brave” nor “New.”
Oh no… what do you do with a sock that has red, white, and black stripes? Oh dear lord… the horror of it all…
“follow” me on Twitter- @newtownpentacle
long sleep
“…To the last, I grapple with thee; from hell’s heart, I stab at thee; for hate’s sake, I spit my last breath at thee.”
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The Moby Dick quotation above, made famous by Ricardo Montalban in his role as Star Trek’s Khan, is something I recently said to a Time Warner Cable representative. The latest round of outages in Astoria began with the lightning storms that provided the ramp up to the 4th of July holiday. Storm damage is understandable, but this had nothing to do with weather. Instead, it was just another one of their periodic screw ups which randomly black out cable modems and TV screens in the neighborhood. Luckily, we only use the internet service that these clowns offer, but upstairs – Mario and Dario could not watch their beloved World Cup.
You stand between Croatians and their soccer at your peril, I will warn you.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The usual dance with the TWC call centers ensued, the one where you speak first to a Canadian who “is all aboot getting yer service restored” but can’t actually do anything as she’s works for a third party company whose job can be basically described as “delaying tactics.” Understanding their woeful system as I do, I mentioned the word “FIOS” several times, which allowed me to skip up the managerial levels until I finally spoke to someone in NYC. This TWC employee actually admitted that there was an outage in my area, which is a bit of a victory on the TWC front.
If there was an award for “sucking,” TWC’s system would be placing a lot of little statues on its shelves.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
This time around, it took around two days for them to get the system back on. It’s still sort of tremulous, with the signal turning on and off several times a minute, and I find myself plugging and unplugging the TWC modem a few times a day to restart or refresh the connection with the central switch. The issues with their network have much to do with the nightmarish wiring job they’ve installed around the neighborhood, and I find the infinity loop of wire pictured above to be a rather appropriate symbol for what its like dealing with the de facto monopoly of suck that is TWC.
“follow” me on Twitter- @newtownpentacle
waking experiences
The big rigs, in today’s post.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
When I was a young narrator, I had a friend named Ronnie. Ronnie adorned his walls with posters, most of which featured engenues and actresses. Farrah Fawcett sat next to Heather Locklear over his bed, and the Trans Am driven by Burt Reynolds in the “Smokey and the Bandit” movie series was also given a special place. Ronnie also liked trucks, especially the Peterbilt brand. Ronnie is long departed from this mortal coil, as is Farrah Fawcett, but the trucks remain.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
I spotted this somehow sinister seeming convoy the other day, as it thundered across one of the truss bridges carrying traffic over the Sunnyside Yards. A sense of latent menace which they projected – I think a came from the tight, almost military, formation in which the trucks were being driven. Also, the tinted windows on the drivers cabin helped promulgate a certain air of mystery about the purpose and intentions of this convoy.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Hanging around industrial zones, as one does, a useful habit I’ve acquired is to not walk in front of a vehicle or piece of construction equipment without first making eye contact with and then being acknowledged by its operator. Perhaps this is why the tinted windows disturbed me so. Mayhap too little sleep had been enjoyed before I stumbled out of the house, or it was the loud music that my headphones were playing which had put me into an agitated state. Either way, the convoy seemed to be up to something sinister, here in Sunnyside. One thing I can tell you for sure – my old friend Ronnie would have hung any of these three shots up in his room, but none of them would have displaced Farrah or Heather.
“follow” me on Twitter- @newtownpentacle
simple minded
Fireworks in Queens, in today’s post.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
On the 4th, my neighbors Mario and Dario and I climbed up the little ladder which leads up to the roof hatch and surmounted our building. Arriving up at tar beach, we discovered that just about everyone else in Astoria had the same idea. Our view of the horizon and the Macy’s Fireworks show on the East River was hopelessly occluded, but who needs Manhattan’s little spectacle?
Queens never disappoints.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Off in the direction of Old Astoria, where the Triboro and Hells Gate Bridges can be found, the neighborhood was oddly quiet. There were the occasional detonations, as pictured above, but by Astoria standards – not too much was going on.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
It was the to southeast where the action was going on, and it seemed that Woodside was competing with Sunnyside and Maspeth from my vantage point.
“follow” me on Twitter- @newtownpentacle
The Newtown Pentacle 