Archive for the ‘Pickman’ Category
Project Firebox 64
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Sudden panic overcame me on Thursday last, when a yawning hole in my scheduled postings presented itself in a looming fashion- I had no fresh Firebox for Saturday!
In a huff, and something of a puff, your humble narrator meekly wandered around Astoria looking for some heretofore anonymous fire box with the goal of shooting its portrait. Luckily, on 38th and 28th, this scarlet century awaited me.
impersonal investigator
“follow” me on Twitter at @newtownpentacle
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Often does a certain conflict arise within me regarding Calvary Cemetery and the various tales unearthed there which are then presented at this, your Newtown Pentacle. On the one hand, vainglory states that by speaking about the departed, and telling some part of their story, the interred are in some way kept alive.
In other cases, and this is typified by a soul chilling email received around a year ago which had the subject line “why is my grandmother’s grave featured in your blog?,” offer credence to my fears that a certain line is often crossed.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
A humble narrator subscribes to the bardic viewpoint which believes that a hero or villain is only dead when people stop talking about them, which is why Ghenghis Khan, Alexander Magnus, and Adolph Hitler are immortal.
There is another point of view, of course, which dictates that what happens at the cemetery stays at the cemetery. While researching the Early family, in whom my interest was sparked merely by the centuried integrity of their monument, this waters of this conflict bubbled forth.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Not much is out there about the Early’s, not an obituary nor a requiem or even a trail of legal bread crumbs. Specialists in Irish genealogy might be able to reveal more than I, but that’s not really the point. From a moral and ethical point of view, should the dead just be allowed to just keep their secrets?
Attempts have always been made, around NP HQ, to present historical necrologies in the best of all possible lights, as much out of respect for heirs and descendants as for the desire to not speak ill of the dead. One attempts to remain cold, clinical, and impersonal when constructing these narratives.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Conflicted, one nevertheless forges on in the attempt to create some sort of visual record of Calvary Cemetery, the great polyandrion of the Roman Catholics in New York City. All that can said of the Early clan is what is inscribed upon the stone- that it acknowledges the memory of the matron Ellen Mc Collough who died at 75 in December of 1893, a 21 year old woman named Rose who died in 1872, and finally the presence of the earthly remains of Mary Early who left the mortal coil in March of 1902.
The monument is a fine piece of carving, which has robustly weathered a century of exposure to the elements.
humanless region
“follow” me on Twitter at @newtownpentacle
– photo by Mitch Waxman
As one might have observed in recent media reports, the Mayor of New York City and certain hand picked lieutenants and allies deployed the “golden shovels” and officially “broke ground” at the so called Hunters Point South project in Long Island City. Funny, as construction has been going on around here for a while, mainly on improving the archaic sewer and water system.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
On second street, there is a long ditch currently extant which reveals part of this work. Much of what is happening around here, I am led to believe, is closer to the East River. This assertion is easily proven if one is a customer of the East River Ferry, as the fence line one follows to the dock winds its way along the early phases of the construction site where this grandiose plumbing is being installed.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Spongy, the soil at Hunters Point has seen a lot of industrial tenants come and go over the centuries. At the penultimate southern terminus of the street is the notorious Newtown Creek, to the west is the squamous East River- which was known as the River of Sound to ancient mariners. Interestingly enough- the ground water, or at least the bits of it which have percolated into this pit, is not dissimilar in color or appearance to the very end of the Newtown Creek’s distant tributary English Kills in Bushwick.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Surprisingly, the “layer cake” normally observed in Long Island City street repairs was not visible. Like lower Manhattan and Downtown Brooklyn, the streets are several centuries deep, and one will often see several layers of different pavement technologies on display. If one is very lucky and the street is very old- a layer of compacted and oiled earth, capped by a white chalky substance surmounted by a layer or two of gravel which lies under Belgian Blocks then cement and tar and then concrete and asphalt might be observed.
I’ve got a shot or two from Queens Plaza in which this layer cake is obviously encountered, for instance.
blazing through
“follow” me on Twitter at @newtownpentacle
– photo by Mitch Waxman
An ongoing saga, the repairs visited upon a formerly smoldering Con Ed street pit here in Astoria continue unabated. The repair crew visualized in the images adorning this post wore Orange (the first wore blue), as can plainly be perceived, but a third unit arrived who were clad in grayish white costume. This tertiary band of pale laborers escaped photographic scrutiny, I am afraid, but the Oranges were not so lucky. For the first installment of this ongoing urban epic, vist the post “perfect service” and the ancillary “shrank away.”
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The Orange brigade attacked the street vengefully, hurling their equipment at the pavement with an alacrity and conviction terrifying to behold. It felt to one such as myself, a deadened and unfeeling thing, that these Oranges might have been offended by this street pit’s very existence. Again, and again, the blades of shovel and diesel powered earth mover were hurled noisily against the street pit and its surroundings.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Suddenly, they were done with the task at hand, whereupon certain members of this crew began to secure trophies of their victory. Happily, these trophies were gathered onboard a waiting truck, no doubt to be carted off and displayed as totems of sacrifice, vigor, and prowess. When they were finished with the collection of their stony prize, a large sheet of steel was produced from the truck and lowered- ominously- over the far widened maw of the street pit.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
This is not the same safety cone which was detailed in the second posting, that one made its way down Broadway over the course of a few days where it was run over by dozens of trucks. This is the new one, which came along with the steel plate. As more news develops, a humble narrator (who still hasn’t forgotten nor forgiven Consolidated Edison’s Great Astoria Blackout of 2006) shall of course bring it to you at this- your Newtown Pentacle.
groping again
“follow” me on Twitter at @newtownpentacle
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Perhaps one has become an internet troll.
I do spend an awful lot of time scuttling around beneath bridges and overhead trusses of all kinds, while wandering throughout the concrete devastations of the Newtown Pentacle. Then I find myself posting photos of them to the internet, which offers connection via correlation. As the scions of some mythical “old neighborhood” might proffer: “Dictionary definition, look here douchebag, trolls live under bridges. That means you a fucking troll. Fuck you, troll.”
That really is a quote, incidentally, from a Dungeons and Dragons comrade in Canarsie back during the 1980’s. Essential usage of the Brooklyn patois, at that time, always involved explaining your work when cursing someone out. It was a gentler age, when a young Joe Piscopo taught us all how to laugh again.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Perhaps, one can be cast as a paparazzo for decaying infrastructure and artisan pollution instead. Imagine a humble narrator clad in scarf and motor scooter, zipping around town searching for remnants of the forgotten and occluded world of fat rendering and manufactured gas while always keeping a watchful eye on the once and future king of the Creeks, called Newtown.
Dynamic, this lifestyle of the paparazzi would, given the poor and mediocre existence currently endured, irrevocably brighten ones outlook.
Back in the “old neighborhood,” which was not all that old or really much of a neighborhood, it was opined as best to keep ones sights set low lest disappointment and regret rule ones mind in extreme old age. It was commonly decided that prudence demanded the acquisition of a government job with benefits and regular hours, receiving a pension after 25 years, and then moving away from “all the bullshit” to be the best course of action one could take.
There were a lot of cops, garbage men, firemen, and EMT’s in the old neighborhood. Nurses too.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Unfortunately, it does seem that one has indeed become this much maligned creature of hideous modernity called an “Internet troll.” If you spot some scruffy bag of mostly water, all wrapped up in a filthy black raincoat and scuttling about while clumsily picking its path around and beneath a bridge, that very well might be me.
What else it might be, for my countenance is somewhat unbearable to behold by the unprepared and there are certain asymmetrical oddities in my gait and postures which defy impersonation, few can say. I will continue to post these captured photons on the internet, notwithstanding that they might be dispatches from Trollheim.
The Newtown Pentacle 