Allergic reactions
Tuesday
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The last installment from a recent walk around Pittsburgh, along one of the waterfront trails in the central part of the city. Pictured above is one of the inclines, ‘the red one,’ as I might call it.
The air temperature was dropping rapidly, with the wind kicking up. With every step, my will to continue this walk was evaporating.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
One was bemused, by the signage and the evidence on the ground, indicating that the sign was in fact telling people that something interesting might be up on the hill, which the sign rendered as forbidden. You might as well tell children that they will never figure out where you hid the Christmas presents.
The sign should have said ‘pay your taxes, this way.’
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Locomotive traffic had fallen off, after those two trains moving under the West End Bridge had passed. One continued along, however, passing beneath the Fort Pitt Bridge.
This weather thing has been getting in my way. I was all set to attend two walking tours – two weekends in a row – which I had to back out of due to the ice and snow which has been glazing the steel city of late.
Have to constantly remind myself that due to the orthopedic incident, I have limitations now. Best to be conservative in my efforts for the next few months, and not risk any new injury. Tremulous, me.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The trail itself was perfectly clear of ice and snow, I should mention.
Regardless, my battery was starting to really run down. It wasn’t just my stamina that was ebbing, I literally mean that the camera battery was running low, as the cold reduces the amount of charge it can hold over time. A quick battery swap and soon I was back up to full power, camera wise.
Saying that, I was getting a bit bored. Luckily, the podcast I was listening to was in the process of introducing Caesar, and focusing in on the part of his career nobody ever talks about – when he was a populist lawyer, before he went to Gaul and became a general.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The T passed by me on the Panhandle Bridge, but I’d ready decided that I was going to summon a rideshare car for the ride back to HQ.
Normal custom for me would be to visit the Sly Fox Brewery and have a pint or two of beer, but it was far too wintry to sit outside and suffer the vainglory of hoping that a another train might pass through. I spent my beer money on a cab home instead. Brrr.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
I hung about for around a half hour or so, anyway, and still nothing was coming through. Bah!
The car was summoned and soon I was fending off the affections of Moe the Dog back at HQ, in the Dormont section of Pittsburgh.
Back tomorrow with something different – at this – your Newtown Pentacle.
“follow” me on Twitter- @newtownpentacle
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Hey Now! West End edition.
Monday
– photo by Mitch Waxman
As described last week, your humble narrator was perpetrating a constitutional scuttle, around the titular center point of the Pittsburgh Metro area. My horrific footfalls carried me from a T light rail station on the North Side over to the West End Bridge, whereupon I’d squamously cross the Ohio River and enjoy a point of view or two from the other side.
Midway across the span, a CSX freight train appeared, one which was moving directly towards my point of view.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
That’s CSX #3430, pictured above. I’m told that it’s a ‘GE ET44AH’ model locomotive, which you can read more about here. Right about this moment was when the other train, the one which had been held in place for a bit, began to move. Fun.
Did I mention that it was cold and windy?
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The train passed over an outfall which allows Chartiers Creek to express itself into the Ohio River, quite close to the confluence of Allegheny and Monongahela Rivers which form the headwaters of the Ohio.
I kept on keeping on.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
I’ve always thought that if you really want to hide something, and you’ve got a budget, that the best place would be a train cargo car. The budget would be required to keep the thing you’re hiding constantly moving, and if there’s enough cash available you could theoretically keep the hidden item on the move indefinitely. Connecting it to one random freight train after another, you eventually send it to a train yard in either southern Mexico or Boreal Canada where your secrets can be forgotten.
Theoretically, the same approach would work with a semi trailer, and leave behind a far sparser paper trail.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Just before it was time to deal with my terrifying descent down a flight of stairs on the south side of West End Bridge, a tug caught the eye.
Yeah, I know… it’s a Towboat out here, not a Tug. I know.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The Gale R. Rhodes has been mentioned here before, in this post from 2024, which was published about a couple of weeks prior to the ‘orthopedic incident.’ That’s how I’m referring to the broken ankle situation from this point out, so just get used to that one, lords and ladies.
Back tomorrow.
“follow” me on Twitter- @newtownpentacle
Buy a book!
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Cold and lonely, always afraid
Friday
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Continuing with a forced march around Pittsburgh, in today’s post.
Simple plan. I’d follow the headwaters of the Ohio River to the West End Bridge, cross over to the southern shore, then track back up the shoreline towards that brewery I hang around, nearby the train tracks on the South Side of Pittsburgh. Drink wasn’t on the menu for this particular day, but I was very interested in capturing a few shots of freight trains.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Hey Now! Norfolk Southern was getting up to something on their elevated trestle tracks. The static train in the foreground was CSX’s, and they seemed to be held up by signals. These train shots are all telephoto ranged ones, with the zoom lens dialed all the way out to its maximum objective.
One kept on keeping on.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
My cursed footsteps pollute the waterfront trails with intransigence, but nevertheless did your humble narrator navigate his carcass to the West End Bridge. This part of the walk exposed me to stairs, which the rotting worms in my skull box have devoted a phobia about, an afterimage of the ‘orthopedic incident’ which defined my life for most of last year.
I’m all ‘effed up.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
It’s not the going up that affects me, it’s the descent. In particular, it seems, the steel steps that are painted with Pittsburgh’s ‘brand color’ of PPG brand ‘Aztec Gold’ seem to really excite the old amygdala, especially so when descending them. ‘Mustn’t grumble.’
After urinating on a nearby bush, your humble narrator moved upward and onwards, and ascended the scary steps.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
This walk has become one of my ‘stations of the cross’ routes. That’s what I call easy to reach areas that are ‘pregnant,’ in terms of photo possibility, but which also offer long stretches of mostly flat terrain that I can lean into. The ‘easy to reach’ part is kind of important.
Back in Queens, I’d head south – out of Astoria – for a Dutch Kills walk which served a similar function and ‘reachability.’ Down Steinway to Northern, where it becomes 39th. 39th to Skillman and Sunnyside Yards, Skillman to Hunters Point Avenue, and then I’d hang a left towards Dutch Kills. After visiting a few spots along the water, I’d then scuttle back out to 43rd street and turn north for the walk back home to Astoria.
That walk was often referred to as my ‘patrol area.’
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Hey now! That’s a ‘heading away from Pittsburgh’ CSX freight train appearing on the second track, alongside that train from the Norfolk Southern shot which was being held by signals. Lucky!
Back next week with more.
“follow” me on Twitter- @newtownpentacle
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Woke up, fell out of bed…
Thursday
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Merry New Year, lords and ladies, with this post marking the start of a short scuttle’s chronicle, as well as being the start of 2026’s folderol.
It was a mid-December’s Monday in Pittsburgh, quite a cold and gray day for a scuttle. Your humble narrator wrapped himself thoroughly with an under suit of thermal garments, hidden from prying eyes beneath that swirling black sackcloth which forms my normal outer shell. The filthy black raincoat formed the most outré of the layers.
One was traveling light, using a sling bag to carry bare essentials, and had a zoom lens installed on the camera. Above, you’ll notice my ‘gray card’ shot, which is generally the first thing I do when leaving HQ. Pursuit of setting up base setting for the camera’s exposure triangle which I’d be working around for that day is why. This was captured directly in front of the house, and looks up the steep hill HQ is at the bottom of, and whose summit allows one pedestrian egress to a light rail station.
Horrible in aspect, one nevertheless launched himself forward. In the distance, an air raid siren sounded. The siren summons the volunteer fire department together, as a note. I prefer to think it’s a general alarm signaling to all concerned that your humble narrator is out and about.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
As has become my custom, a shot of a T light rail unit moving ‘away from Pittsburgh’ was captured, rather than the one ‘to Pittsburgh.’ I just like the POV better for the ‘away’ viewpoint, what with the catenaries and such.
I had no specific plan for this scuttle, wasn’t ‘trying’ to catch something specific, just ‘walking here.’
It’d been a few days since the last effort, and I needed to push some force through the legs to stretch out all the rubber bands and pinions. The Pittsburgh bound ‘T’ arrived and then boarded, I paid my fare, and found a seat while continuing with a relisten of ‘The History of Rome’ podcast by Mike Duncan. I was listening to episodes that bridged the Gracchi Brothers to Sulla period on this day. That’s when the politicians in Rome began to employ private armies.
That’ll probably be at the end of 2026 for our Republic. Caesar is coming.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
As described previously, it’s about a 25-35 minute ride from Dormont on the T service to its terminal stop on Pittsburgh’s North Shore.
‘Essentials’ in the camera bag: a flash light, two prime lenses with bright apertures in addition to the zoom lens on the camera, a kitchen towel, a rocket air blower and a lens cloth, a pack of gum, and a couple of spare camera batteries.
I find having a cloth towel with me immensely handy, but I’m a Douglas Adams fan, and he would advise that it’s always good advice to carry a small towel about.
My very first freelance art job back in the 1980’s involved computer graphics (generated on a Commodore 64), which would be then be inserted into scanned photos of Douglas Adams for use in a ‘flip book’ which would animate a cup and saucer of tea landing in his hand. I got to meet and spend a little him during the photo shoot part of that job. He told me the story behind the towel thing, btw., as I had pointedly asked about it.
A young Douglas Adams was on holiday in Spain. He stripped naked at a beach to go swimming, leaving both his clothing and a towel on the sand. He returned from his swim and found that someone had stolen his clothing, and all he had to cover ‘himself’ with on the way back to his hotel was the towel. So… that’s what the man himself told a 19 or 20 year old version of your humble narrator. Nice guy, Adams, in my limited experience.
I was a fan, of course, but this encounter with him gave me some false hope that writers and artists whose work I like, whom I might meet in the future, would be similarly ‘cool guys and gals.’ Not so. Don’t meet your heroes is my advice.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The T arrived at its terminal stop, nearby Acrisure Stadium, where the Pittsburgh Steelers dwell. As is my habit, I hung around a minute or two until all the other passengers had debarked, and then adjusted my various camera and bag straps, floating about amidst all those layers of warming garments draped about my loathsome physical firmament.
I’m all ‘effed up, mind you, and I’m talking in the physical sense as opposed to my thought process. The orthopedic agonies of 2025 forced me into sitting postures for too long. Everything hurts, and the only way to make it stop hurting is to make it hurt more until it starts hurting less and then something else can start hurting more.
This particular walk was a compromise that I made with myself, given the climate available during the interval. Rain, snow, ice, all that were in the forecast. This was the only day of the week during which precipitant concerns wouldn’t apply, but it was gray, and windy, and really cold. The kind of day that makes your nose run, but doesn’t draw tears.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Hey, lookit, somebody lost their Narcan on the bench. Hope they’re ok.
Like some sort of putrescent jelly, your humble narrator narrowly slithered over to an escalator, and then to another to street level. Scuttling out onto the sidewalk surrounding the elevated light rail station, a series of ultramundane decisions were made. A path was decided upon!
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Basically, I decided to go ‘that way.’ Like I said, ultramundane.
Back tomorrow with more – at this – your Newtown Pentacle.
“follow” me on Twitter- @newtownpentacle
Buy a book!
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Feasting, and dancing
Wednesday
– photo by Mitch Waxman
I cannot help it, as despite all of my best efforts, I’m feeling an emotion.
This is the ultimate post of 2025, as in its the last one this year. This has been a year of absolute agony and pain for me, due to the recovery from a shattered left ankle, and I’m quite glad to be putting that behind me.
Every single day for the last year, I’ve played this song and sang along with it. I will survive this year, if it kills me.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
One pushed onwards, as he does, since ‘what choice do you have otherwise’ applies. Forward, ever forward.
I’ve always been a believer in the idea that if an immovable object is actually meeting an irresistible force in your vicinity, the best thing for one to do would involve navigating around the conflict and sidestepping it. Lateral thought is what that’s called. Who wants to get involved with an esoteric conflict of absolutes and universal maximums? Not me, that’s none of my business, if force and object want to fight.
I’ve also grown quite fond of this cover song, during my interval as an invalid. If Elvis was still alive, I would hope he and Tom Jones would be doing covers of Simon and Garfunkel together. Cool, baby.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Speaking of cool, while walking in a shockingly discombobulated style towards the light rail stations, this excellent iteration of a bike rack was encountered. I think it’s a bike rack, at least. Definitely art.
The headphones came out during this section, as downtown is well populated, and there’s often large agglutinations of adolescents with mischief on their menu roaming about down here. They are seldom good natured. You’ve also got a sizable and edgy population of ‘street people’ who can be volatile or unpredictable.
As I always say: ‘You do you, boo, I’m just passing through.’ I’ll usually throw in a ‘be safe’ as my closer. The humans, even the debased ones, like that sort of thing.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Does this sort of scene call out to you, in the manner of a siren’s song, as it does to your humble narrator? Clawing intent, drawing you towards shuffling into those depths, and finding out what’s…
Actually, I’ve seen what goes on in these alleys, and it’s mostly intravenous drug use and public urination or defecation. The office buildings whose walls form the alleys use them for storing garbage bins. There’s signs everywhere admonishing against trespass and advising that rule breakers will find themselves under ‘video surveillance.’
I lived in NYC my entire life, until 3 years ago, and for every single day of it I was under video surveillance at one point or another. Just going to school as a kid, for instance, I’d be videoed half a dozen times between the front door and my desk. Security cameras are as numerous in NYC as rats. The question always was, and is, is anyone actually watching the camera feed?
The cops collect footage when there’s a crime, but that’s afterwards. In the glorious new world of AI, there will be a ‘somebody’ watching – everything – everywhere – as it happens and all at the same time. Predictive policing is on the horizon.
Hey… that’s my last dire warning about AI for 2025.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
As has been mentioned a few times recently, I’m chronologically isolated from the day that you’re reading this as I’m way ahead of schedule for once, and I’m writing this post on the first Saturday of December. It’s entirely possible that we’ve all been wiped out by the Venezuelan Space Force or something by now, but I’m betting that it’s just the usual horror of pedantry and politics that are annoying us at the moment. Hell, I’m also presuming that I’m not one of those 28 people (an annual average) who died by driving off the side of a cliff in the Greater Pittsburgh region.
Pictured above is the ‘Gateway’ T Light Rail Station, which is where would be where I’d be leaving the street behind and heading back to HQ in Dormont. I remembered one of my ‘old habits’ and spun around on my heel to capture an inverse view.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
There we are.
Also, I spun on my heel! I managed to spin on my left heel!
It would seem that I have indeed survived this last very challenging year, and at least as far as the first Saturday in December goes, it still hasn’t killed me.
Back next year – with something different – at your Newtown Pentacle.
“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 