Hills/dale
Wednesday
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Constitutional in motivation, I’m nevertheless always carrying a camera kit with me on the long walks that I’m forced to endure – as long time readers will attest. Endure has been a proper adjective in recent years, as a paucity of any remaining youthfulness left in me is draining away, leaving behind only a gray and wrinkled husk. I once was pretty, and not the monster you now see. What I see in the bathroom mirror looks like a dehydrated sweet potato with a gray beard.
Also, in those cheeky years of blessed memory when your narrator was young but already humble, standing up after sitting in a chair wasn’t accompanied by any popping or cracking noises, nor did I often wonder about how I hurt myself while asleep.
Soldier on, and steady, old man…
I was crossing the Allegheny River on the Fort Duquesne Bridge, and my short term goal was to get to the neighboring Fort Pitt Bridge so as to cross the Monongahela River.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The Fort Duquesne Bridge (the fort thing here dates back to the French and Indian War and George Washington – all that jazz) overflies Point State Park, which is a well used peninsular public space and the titular center of Pittsburgh. At this park, you can pick up the pedestrian/bike path for the Fort Pitt Bridge, which I was heading for next.
Often, I like to ponder about the cloud of epithelial dust that peels off of my withering body while moving about. Pain is my oldest and most loyal friend, after all, but continual decay is still somewhat novel. No matter what happens, pain is always there, and part of the journey. Leaving behind a cloud of skin cells in my wake is just a plus, and novel.
When I had my initial appointment with a new Doctor here in Pittsburgh just last year, I drew a chart of all my physical complaints. The cartoon depicted a humble narrator in a style not unlike the patient from the board game ‘Operation.’ It had call outs to specific maladies, and I used lightning bolt iconography to indicate areas of mystery pain. The Doc was amused, and told me that this was a first for him, in his thirty years of practice. What can I say? I communicate most effectively in graphic narrative.
I’m all ‘effed up.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Finally, I surmounted the ramp leading to the Fort Pitt Bridge and began my crossing of the thing, which spans the Monongahela River. This is a fairly muddy river – I’d mention – hence the tan coloration encountered.
Because of the Hudson and Mississippi, I have a mental block and prejudice towards the idea that rivers don’t just run south, but there we iconoclastically are. The ‘Mon’ ends up in Pittsburgh after a long 130 mile northeasterly journey out of West Virginia, and along its run it picks up a lot of soils. This is just about the end of its trip, where it joins with the Allegheny to form the Ohio River.
This whole ‘getting old’ thing is kind of a drag, but I’m enjoying the challenge of not just keeling over and dying so there’s that. Wait, my left ear just fell off, and I’m out of superglue. Dag.
Back tomorrow.
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Vampire barriers
Tuesday
– photo by Mitch Waxman
It must suck to be a Vampire in Pittsburgh because you’ve got all this running water which needs to be navigated around, and all of the bridges that you can’t cross similarly because of ‘running water.’ On the plus side for the Nosferatu-Americans, it’s cloudy or overcast about 2/3 of the year – which occludes the burning thermonuclear eye of god itself’s radiate gaze – so you’d have that going for you. More good news is that the people of Pittsburgh seem pretty well fed, and many of them look like they’re really full of tasty blood.
I was heading towards a pedestrian/bicycle approach to the Fort Duquesne Bridge, which is nearby the sportsball stadium that the Pittsburgh Pirates outfit operate out of. As mentioned yesterday, one of the goals on this warm and sunny afternoon was to get some verticality going on during this walk, and find some steps or ramps to climb onto.
Cardio, yo.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
There don’t seem to be many folktales involving Vampires here in Pittsburgh, but there’s all sorts of ‘hooey’ which involves cults, killers, monsters, unknown beasts which lurk at the edge of the woods, and witches. Lots of witches. There’s a mass of Appalachian ‘Hill Billy’ mythos as well, and while trying to absorb some of that knowledge, I found an amazing YouTube channel called ‘The Appalachian Storyteller,’ which I can heartily recommend.
While looking for these sorts of stories to educate myself on the local psychic firmament, and mythological milieu, one encountered a subgenre of YouTube videos – called Hobo YouTube – which is best represented by a fellow who calls his channel ‘Hobo Shoestring.’ Really, you search for railroad stuff, it inevitably leads to ‘Hobo YouTube.’
There’s a bunch of interesting genres and quite professional creators on that platform these days. Here’s a few examples of – camera YouTube, cooking YouTube, camping YouTube, EDC YouTube, etc. YouTube’s algorithm will see what you’re watching and thereby open up these various genre offerings to you in its suggestions based on ‘clicks.’ It’s really interesting to see how the future works, if you ask me.
Careful what you watch though, as there’s a ‘pimple popping YouTube’ which is downright grotesque. Anyway, back to the Vampires.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
I’ve never dwelt in the ‘Vampires look like Catherine Deneuve or Frank Langella’ camp. Always have I ascribed to the pre Stokerite descriptions of the undead things: a shambling pile of rotting meat, complete with ‘death stink,’ who is nevertheless quite nimble in its nightly locutions. Horrible ghasts, without the tiniest shred of romantic appeal, that’s a Vampire. Something that takes and takes but never gives, is ignorant of the rule of natural law, and intolerant to all but its own need.
After a brief effort, a humble narrator had surmounted the stairs leading up to the Fort Duquesne Bridge over the Allegheny River and commenced with a southwards lurch forward. I was as secure as I’ll ever be in terms of battling the vampiric – direct sunlight above and running water below. Sun Tzu always spoke of choosing favorable locations for battle, and if the enemy is composed of blood thirsty revenants – this is a great spot for you to reenact the heroism of Horatius Cocles, Spurius Larcius, and Titus Herminius Aquilinus at Rome’s Pons Sublicius, way back in the 6th century B.C.E.
What? I’ve been listening to that History of Rome podcast again.
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Good and great
Monday
– photo by Mitch Waxman
A humble narrator was lucky enough to wake up again, one recent day, and soon discovered that the atmospheric temperature would be in the high 60’s during the afternoon, which triggered me into taking a fairly long walk. I was determined to work a few flights of steps into this one, and the path I chose included several such obstacles to my continuing happiness.
The T light rail carried me over to Pittsburgh’s North Side from HQ, whereupon one pointed his toes in a generally southern direction, and proceeded to follow them. Several existential questions were positively gnawing at me on this particular day, however, and a location suddenly occurred to me where I could make a quick stop for consideration of my quandaries.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
I have very few eidelons to which I assign the title of ‘all that’s good and great.’ I’ve mentioned a morality check of mine, in the past, as being “What would Superman do.” If you’re about to do something questionable, running it past the Kryptonian filter is a good idea, but always remember that Supes gaslights each and every one of his friends – including the woman he loves – (except for Batman, of course) – and he doesn’t seem to do much in terms of solving the big picture stuff on his adopted planet. I’m pretty sure Superman could eliminate world hunger in under a week if he wanted to, for instance.
The Man of Tomorrow always has to tell Bats the truth, since the Dark Knight probably already knows the score anyway. It’s hard to get anything past a Billionaire who calls himself ‘The Night,’ and or ‘Vengeance.’ That means you should always take what Superman says and does with a grain of salt if it doesn’t involve pinching off active volcanos or redirecting tidal waves, and that you should also acknowledge some serious issues about a Billionaire who dresses up in black leather, spends his money on an arsenal of esoteric weaponry, and beats up poor people at night.
The ultimate moral authority to judge your actions against thereby, in my mind, is always going to be Mr. Rogers and luckily I live not too far from his actual neighborhood. A Pittsburgh native, Fred Rogers was, and there’s a well deserved monument to him found on the north side of the Allegheny River.
Note: I actually perform the same act that Rogers always did when I get home from wherever, changing out of my outside clothes and shoes for a clean sweater and ‘house sneakers.’ In actuality, this habit of mine started after having read Marcus Aurelius, but when I realized that a stoic habit was what Fred Rogers was displaying to me as a child… that guy…
I like to sit down next to his statue and ponder my problems sometimes, meditating about kindness, and the maintenance of an open mind towards people and ideas which I don’t like very much. There’s a lot of that flying around at the moment, and it bums me out.
You ever listen to his 9/11 message?
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Robert Berks was the sculptor who fashioned this metallic homage to Mr. Rogers, I’ve learned. I’ve wondered if the statue’s monumental stature was consciously decided upon to cause grown up adults feel like children, again.
The memorial plays recordings of the great man talking and singing, and it’s always a pleasurable spot to visit. The siting of the thing is pretty cool, I’d mention, nearby the beginning of the Three Rivers Heritage Trail on the Allegheny River’s North Shore, and in direct proximity to the sportsball stadium used by the Pittsburgh Steelers.
Meditation time was over, my problems weren’t solved but at least I’d filtered out anger and self aggrandizement as motivations in my decision making. You can’t be prideful or self absorbed when you’re sitting next to Mr. Rogers, or at least a representation of him.
Back tomorrow.
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Trolling on the Ides
Friday
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Whenever I’m under a bridge, one can’t help but go all Brooklyn in my thoughts – “Hey Ma, check me out, I’m a troll hanging out under da bridge.” The one pictured above is the Fort Pitt Bridge in Pittsburgh, spanning the Monongahela River. It’s a pretty city, I tell’s ya.
There’s a few weird cultural things here in Pittsburgh which I still haven’t gotten used to. This area was a frontline during the French and Indian War, and thereby there’s a bunch of town names which have French origins. Thing is – they pronounce “Versailles” as ‘Ver Sales,’ and “Dubois” as ‘Du Boys’ here in Western PA – which causes me headaches, and inflammation.
The Brooklyn way is to purposely mispronounce ‘fancy pants’ words and speak them as they’re spelled – hence ‘Whores Du Vores’ for ‘Hors D’oeuvres’ or ‘Antikways’ for ‘Antiques’ – but the locals aren’t being snarky like all Brooklyn people are obliged to be, and the Yinzers literally say ‘Ver Sales’ for ‘Versailles.’
– photo by Mitch Waxman
This was a short walk, as stated in Monday’s post, one which took place on a fairly cold and windy day. I was quite pleased to reach the final leg thereby, which carried me over to the Light Rail station for a ride back to HQ. The Three Rivers Heritage Trail was exited at Smithfield Street, where I found this charming arrangement of cautionary signage that had been tumbled about by the turbulent atmospherics.
I’m really trying to lean into my exercise schedule of ‘one day out, one day in,’ at the moment. Winter, although it was a fairly mild one, is not my favorite time of year. Luckily, the camera is hungry for sights to see and I have to oblige the thing.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
It didn’t take long for my chariot to arrive, which carried my bloated pre-corpse back to HQ. Embarrassingly, just as I was about to sit down on the train, the T light car I was in lurched forward, which caused me to stumble and fall. Everybody onboard was concerned about the old fellow with the gray beard who just fell down.
I was worried about the camera. It was fine.
Back next week with more from the Paris of Appalachia at this – your Newtown Pentacle.
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Diesel
Thursday
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Lucky, lucky. While walking the last third of a constitutional walk on a chilly afternoon, a second CSX train appeared while I was on the Three Rivers Heritage Trail here in Pittsburgh. That’s the Fort Pitt Bridge behind it, if you’re curious.
CSX #845, I’m told, is part of General Electric’s ‘Evolution Series’ locomotive line – a model ES44AC-H locomotive. Read all about it here, nerds.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
It was actually quite cold out by this time of day, with winds kicking up and temperatures falling. Funnily enough, not 36 hours later, the temperatures would be in the middle 70’s with extremely pleasant conditions. They all told me when I was talking about moving out here – in Pittsburgh, if you don’t like the weather, just wait about 20 minutes and it’ll change.
Saying all that, I wasn’t properly insulated and despite the exercise, a humble narrator was growing a bit chill. it probably had a lot to do with the actual drop in temperature and upscaling of the wind, but there you go.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
This was getting close to the end of this particular walk, which offered two cool views of train traffic up, so I considered it a ‘lucky’ day.
Too often, my rail timing is off and all I get to see are empty tracks. I’ve got to resume my vigil at Seldom Seen Greenway soon, and wait out the Wheeling & Lake Erie RR’s schedule until I get a desired shot there. I’ve made multiple attempts, but no bueno.
Back tomorrow.
“follow” me on Twitter- @newtownpentacle
Buy a book!
“In the Shadows at Newtown Creek,” an 88 page softcover 8.5×11 magazine format photo book by Mitch Waxman, is now on sale at blurb.com for $30.
The Newtown Pentacle 