Archive for the ‘Queens Plaza’ Category
strange cries
All we have to fear is fear itself.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
An infinite capacity for terror and hysteria grips one such as myself, who is just some flapping and flopping thing often observed alongside the road while it coruscates and pulsates and squeezes along and across the concretized devastations of the ageless borough of Queens. Layer upon layer of thwarted ambition is found hereabouts, a fitting locale for your humble narrator- amongst the battered, the bruised, the abandoned, and that which has seen better days. Existential crises abound, and the eternal road only stretches forward into a tunnel of darkness and despair.
As you may have guessed by now, I agree with and celebrate the song “I don’t like Mondays.”
from wikipedia
In psychology and psychiatry, anhedonia (/ˌænhiˈdoʊniə/ an-hee-doh-nee-ə; Greek: ἀν- an-, “without” + ἡδονή hēdonē, “pleasure”) is defined as the inability to experience pleasure from activities usually found enjoyable, e.g. exercise, hobbies, music, sexual activities or social interactions. While earlier definitions of anhedonia emphasized pleasurable experience, more recent models have highlighted the need to consider different aspects of enjoyable behavior, such as motivation or desire to engage in an activity (“motivational anhedonia”), as compared to the level of enjoyment of the activity itself (“consummatory anhedonia”).
– photo by Mitch Waxman
“Monday’s child is fair of face” says the old rhyme, but the origins of the word in English actually mark it as “moons day,” or the day of the moon (that name goes all the back to Old English’s mōnandæg). Perhaps this is why a creature as unwholesome as myself– said unsavoriness should indicate an affinity for the moon day, incidentally- is so uncomfortable on what the Chinese would call xīngqīyī (星期一) which clinically translates to “day one of the week.”
In Britain, a recent study concluded that Monday is the statistically most likely day for suicides. Hecate, triple lobed goddess of the moon, seems to deserve her reputation as a harsh entity whom occultists call the “mother of angels.”
Angels have always scared the hell out of me.
from wikipedia
Dysthymia has a number of typical characteristics: low energy and drive, low self-esteem, and a low capacity for pleasure in everyday life. Mild degrees of dysthymia may result in people withdrawing from stress and avoiding opportunities for failure. In more severe cases of dysthymia, people may even withdraw from daily activities. They will usually find little pleasure in usual activities and pastimes. Diagnosis of dysthymia can be difficult because of the subtle nature of the symptoms and patients can often hide them in social situations making it challenging for others to detect symptoms. Additionally, dysthymia often occurs at the same time as other psychological disorders, which adds a level of complexity in determining the presence of dysthymia, particularly because there is often an overlap in the symptoms of disorders.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
It has been awhile since one has found himself overcome by panic and animalistic instinct, and been reduced to a shivering jelly slaking with greasy perspiration. The ministrations of a team of doctors, and their vials of tablets and potions, seems to have found an equilibrium in me but my greatest fear is a return to fear. I fear fear, fearing that fear might overcome me, rendering all about me fearful. I fear this, and if all we have to fear is fear itself, then I’d like to point out that Fear is hanging up there in the sky behind me as I write this and he’s brought his brother Terror with him.
Of course, I refer to the Martian moons Phobos and Deimos, after all Monday is the so called day of the moon.
from wikipedia
Phobophobia (from Greek: φόβος, phobos, “fear”) is a phobia defined as the fear of phobias, or the fear of fear, including intense anxiety and unrealistic and persistent fear of the somatic sensations and the feared phobia ensuing. Phobophobia can also be defined as the fear of phobias or fear of developing a phobia. Phobophobia is related to anxiety disorders and panic attacks directly linked to other types of phobias, such as agoraphobia. When a patient has developed phobophobia, their condition must be diagnosed and treated as part of anxiety disorders. This patient with this phobia is not afraid of this phobia thus preventing a paradox.
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Want to see something cool? Summer 2013 Walking Tours-
Kill Van Kull– Saturday, August 10, 2013
Staten Island walking tour with Mitch Waxman and Working Harbor Committee, tickets now on sale.
13 Steps around Dutch Kills– Saturday, August 17, 2013
Newtown Creek walking tour with Mitch Waxman and Newtown Creek Alliance, tickets now on sale.
higher order
“follow” me on Twitter at @newtownpentacle
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Happy Monday Newtowniverians, and a healthy one is wished for all the Brooklynites and Queensicans out there.
Today’s post displays a couple of interesting shots I managed to grab before a meeting held at LaGuardia Community College for the Newtown Creek CAG.
This CAG is a sort of advisory/community group which has formed up around the edges of the EPA Superfund project. The CAG is a requirement for EPA, and they periodically convene a meeting to inform us about their activities and overall status of the process.
from epa.gov
A Superfund Community Advisory Group (CAG) is made up of members of the community and is designed to serve as the focal point for the exchange of information among the local community and EPA, the State regulatory agency, and other pertinent Federal agencies involved in cleanup of the Superfund site.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
In this meeting, during which a presentation from the NYC DEP was offered describing a forthcoming dredging project on Newtown Creek, discussion of various issues surrounding the Superfund project between Federal officials and community representatives was offered. Everyone else in the room was a lettered professional or community leader or of high professional caliber, representing every conceivable office, power, and potentate involved in the Newtown Creek story.
Then there’s me, who kept on having his attention drift over to the Sunnyside Yard and the fantastic views of it at rush hour which I wasn’t photographing.
from newtowncreekcag.wordpress.com
Newtown Creek CAG membership is structured on a rolling basis. The Superfund process on Newtown Creek will take many years, and interested stakeholders are encouraged to become CAG members as they learn of and want to fully participate in the process.
The CAG is designed to serve as an ongoing vehicle for information-sharing, discussion, and, where possible, consensus-building regarding decision-making related to the Newtown Creek Superfund Site. Its members represent a diverse cross-section of key stakeholder interests, including affected property owners, concerned residents, local governments, community groups, environmental groups, health experts, the business community, and others as appropriate. Requirements and responsibilities for CAG members are described in the CAG’s Operating Procedures, posted in the Resources tab.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
An odd duck, even after all these years, it is so strange to think that someone like me is even allowed in the building let alone invited to participate and offer both questions for correct answering and contribute direct observations of obscure places being discussed. The folks at EPA have shared some of their early findings, which have greatly excited the scientific minded and fired the imaginations of those who imagine a “greener” city. Check out the CAG site for details.
“out of your depth”- meaning: in water that is so deep that it goes over your head when you are standing: I’m not a strong swimmer so I prefer not to go out of my depth.
curious noises
“follow” me on Twitter at @newtownpentacle
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Admission that Malthus was probably right in adopting a dire tone is offered, something which occurred to me while sitting in a dank concrete bunker and waiting interminably for a Manhattan bound Subway. The worst of all possible situations – alone with my own blasphemous and fever inducing thoughts. Racing phantasms leapt about behind my brow, as train after train exited Manhattan moving east. Each electrically powered chain of metal boxes which entered and left this dripping subterranean bunker seemed to be full of humans, but it is impossible to say with certainty who- or indeed “what”- might have been cradled within.
Finally, a cyclopean shape appeared in the distance of the cement corridor.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Realization that the alloyed conveyance proceeding in the particular direction desired by one such as myself was at hand resulted in a humble narrator sitting uncomfortably amongst the many. Judgement and condemnation was surely brewing in their minds, as furtive glances revealed hostile stares. At the other end of the car were a group of teenagers, and I was reminded of media reports describing the peer group’s outré and often violent delinquency as well as rumors detailing their drug fueled rampages. The practice of running rampant is prevalent in the youth of these degenerate days, after all.
Toward the corner which I faced, an older woman was knitting, just a bit too nonchalantly for my taste.
Perspiration began to drip coldly down my back, which was fully hidden beneath a filthy black raincoat which smells of sewers and wood smoke, and my breathing became erratic.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Imminent, waves of sudden panic eliminated my desire to enter the Shining City of Manhattan onboard this crowded contraption. One departed this underworld, carven into the marshy soils of Queens itself, to once more gaze upon the greasy skies of Long Island City. Standing in a small patch of transmission oil and shattered glass, as a castaway McDonalds bag found its wind blown course to my leg while some strange but obviously relieved inebriate urinated into a phone booth, calm reason once again overtook me. Home, at last.
Down in those concrete catacombs, how can one ever know what horrors are of the mind alone or hint at what there may be that is lurking down there?
fortunately verifiable
“follow” me on Twitter at @newtownpentacle
– photo by Mitch Waxman
“Choose your battles” is what the old man used to say. Then he’d remind me of how I physically compared with other members of my peer group and advised “pick up something- a brick, pipe, garbage can lid- throw it at their head, and then run away as fast as I could”. Following this advice over the years, I’ve learned something. I am not a fast runner.
Walking, however, is something I can do for hours at a pop.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Choosing the battle, however, during the short and dark days of the winter is not always up to me. Complicating my life, the recent multiple day long spurts of rain has made getting out something of a luxury. One can withstand some amount of cold, or a limited quantity of wet, but not both. In recent years, your humble narrator has developed a nearly comic book level “vulnerability to cold”.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
It’s a funny thing. The various groups I work with along the Newtown Creek and New York Harbor have a lot of meetings which I am compelled to attend, whether it be out of interest or obligation. More often than not, these meetings take place far from home, and I will take advantage of “getting there” via scenic routes in order to collect photos and tour certain locales. Unfortunately, during the winter months, darkness begins as early as half past four in the afternoon, and these meetings often start more than hour or two after sunset.
Unable to follow the old man’s advice and choose my battles, as I cannot throw a brick at natures head, an attempt is underway to improve my “hand held at low light” photgraphic skill set.
tarnished plate
“follow” me on Twitter at @newtownpentacle
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Queens Plaza is that which greets visitors to our fair borough, the home to a great machine called Queensboro. This machine, utilitarian, is the backbone which carries vehicular and light rail traffic from the western tip of a long island to the eastern shore of the great human hive’s focal point in Manhattan. Grotesque, the area has been the focus of quite a bit of municipal thought and spending over the last few years.
Mayan Apocalypse Countdown: just 8 days left until the 13th b’ak’tun ends, initiating the Mayan Apocalypse on December 21st. Tick, tock.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
An amenity, called Dutch Kills Green, has been installed as a city park. Controversy over its design and the opinions of area wags notwithstanding, your humble narrator has observed that the place is being well used. A nearby school offers daily crowds of scalawag teenagers, and the place seems popular with both indigent and office worker alike. Several interesting madmen cross the place regularly, including myself.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Annoying, artless graffito has appeared of late in the place. This post is offered in the hope that those of you, lords and ladies, who find themselves in the employ of those powers and potentates who enjoy official stewardship over the community might like to know the phone number of one of these “street artists”. It is realized that so much of the graffiti which turns up is anonymous, and that some minor satisfaction might arrive from being able to ring the person up.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Phone conversation is something generationally aberrant to those under a certain age, with SMS text or twitter replacing verbal communication, so you might wish to tweet the artist instead. Alternatively, Facebook might be your bag.
The Newtown Pentacle 