Posts Tagged ‘Astoria’
swarthy foreigners
It’s National Clams on the Half Shell Day, in these United States.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
So… right after that last snow event we had a couple of weeks ago, I saw something utterly unique in my experience as a New Yorker. I’m almost a half century old at this stage, and one has never – NEVER – observed the Department of Sanitation do anything but plow the vehicular section of the streets in Brooklyn or Queens. This year, however, they were out in force – in Astoria, Queens – clearing the curbs and walkways of snow.
Wha, wha, what?
– photo by Mitch Waxman
DSNY had this neat little bobcat doohickey, which they were using to mash up and disassemble the berms of ice and snow which had piled up along the sidewalk and curb boundary area. I noticed this as it was happening directly under my bedroom window, which woke up both my little dog Zuzu and Our Lady of the Pentacle.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
They were actually clearing the streets! The slush lagoons too.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
“Welcome to Queens, now go fuck yourself” is the borough motto most of the time around these parts. Snow clearance has been a political thorn for Queensican Electeds, going back to the days of Mayor John Lindsay, but seldom is anything improved. Not in 2016.
Maybe this gentrification thing has its benefits, after all.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
A few hours later, around four in the morning (yes, I was still up and awake at four a.m.), another DSNY crew rolled through. This time they were shoveling pathways at the crosswalks. What has happened? Am I in some parallel reality? Is this a dream?
Is Trump still President? Was that just some sort of fevered vision?
Upcoming Tours and events
MAS Janeswalk free walking tour, May 7th.
Visit the new Newtown Creek Alliance/Broadway Stages green roof, and the NCA North Henry Street Project – details and tix here.
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country seat
It’s National Turkey Neck Soup Day, in these United States.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Racing thoughts, cold sweats, night terrors, or existential anxieties notwithstanding – one is happy to report that the Hell Gate Bridge Centennial has been marked. Last weekend, one attended a walk conducted by the estimable Richard Melnick of Greater Astoria Historical Society celebrating the event. Mr. Melnick was joined by Dave Frieder, a photographer and bridge expert, as well as around fifty enthusiasts. For me, it was nice just to be around people who weren’t chasing or deriding.
Pictured above, a CSX freight train heading eastwards over the bridge.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
While following our course, the usual grand panoply of sights were encountered along the east river, including the transit of an articulated tug and barge – the Bouchard corporation’s “Evening Star” tug towing a fuel barge… It’s all so depressing, really.
As always, one reminds that whether they’re pulling or pushing, Tugboats are always “towing.”
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Hell Gate bridge overflies Astoria Park, of course, and one spotted the curious tableau seen above while there.
I’ve been warning all of you about Lovecraftian phenomena occurring in Queens for years, and now at last I can demonstrate the presence of the Shoggoths amongst us.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
This looked like the kind of fun I would have enjoyed having as a child, in those halcyon days before my soul had been blackened to a crisp by the unrelenting fires of adulthood. Life – it’s become a neutral gray for me nowadays – banal, ashen, joyless.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Greater Astoria Historic Society has a full calendar of Hell Gate related programming coming up, and this summer the folks who live in “Astoria, Astoria” or plainly Astoria’s north side are planning a few summertime celebrations for Lindenthal’s triumphant arch bridge over the East River.
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shingled sides
It’s National Chiffon Cake Day, in these United States.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Our plan was a simple one, Our Lady of the Pentacle and myself. The King of Falafel and Shawarma (aka Freddy), who has been operating out of a food truck here in Astoria for many years, has opened a store front on Broadway just off of 31st street. Our Lady was returning from her office in Manhattan at the usual hour, and our plan was to visit the King for a tasty dinner of middle eastern comfort food.
The MTA intervened into our plans of satiety and happiness with transit delays, and Our Lady advised that she was going to be a bit later than we had planned. Well, if you’re a humble narrator and armed with a trusty camera, there’s always something to do. Given the Governor’s plan to rehabilitate the stations along the N/W elevated tracks hereabouts, I’ve been paying some attention to them anyway… so – click, click, clickity, click…
– photo by Mitch Waxman
There’s been some sort of underground work project going on all winter on 31st street, which I’ve presumed to be either utility (gas or electric) or sewer related. It’s a private contractor doing the work, so I’m assuming the former and that its related to the large building construction projects going on at the foot of 31st street near its intersection with Northern Blvd. What can I tell you, despite my reputation as a yenta, I don’t know everything.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
It was a pretty chaotic scene, actually. Heavy equipment rolling around at rush hour in the already cramped environs under the elevated tracks. The ever impatient drivers of Astoria leaning on their horns, pedestrians darting to and fro, workers working. It was all very exciting.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Everytime that Broadway was blocked, you heard a cacophony of auto horns blowing steadily, all the way back to Crescent Street. The laborers seemed to be finishing up for the day, clearing away their tools and moving the traffic cones and safety tape wrapped traffic barriers into place. The fellow driving the earth mover was placing large steel plates over the giant excavation which they had been working in.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The trains finally began to move along the tracks again, thundering into the station and vomiting forth the neighbors. It seems there was a “police investigation” at Queensboro Plaza which held the whole MTA operation up. Our Lady eventually wafted down the stairs and was greeted with an embrace, whereupon we spent about an hour at the storefront inhabited by the King of Falafel and Shawarma, treating ourselves. The meal was delicious, and worth the wait.
I love it when a plan comes together.
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narrow slits
It’s National Black Forest Cake Day, in these United States.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Whilst shlepping about in Astoria, Queens – one often encounters cool cars. The one pictured above was a highly customized Chevy pickup which drew more than one admiring glance from both myself and some other bloke who was dressed as a butcher. I’m pretty sure he actually was a butcher, as after we compared notes on our admiration for the thing, he went into the butcher shop on the corner of 38th street. That would also explain the giant clots of blood I observed on the apron he was wearing, but you don’t ask too many questions about blood stains in Astoria.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Over by the NYCHA Astoria Houses, found to the north and west of that cool car mentioned above, one observed a group of workers building a dock to accommodate the Citywide Ferry service which is meant to be kicking into gear this summer. One advised everyone that would listen not to put it here, but nobody ever listens to little old me.
When a ferry leaves its dock in NY Harbor, regulation and custom demands that it signal its departure via the usage of a particularly loud foghorn. These horn toots are a regular complaint offered by the Manhattan people, who have docks near their homes along the Hudson, in the tony section called Battery Park City. Wonder how the Latin Kings of the Astoria Houses will react to it blowing outside their windows at seven in the morning.
It should have been placed to the south, at the Costco bulkheads where it would have become a viable transportation option for shoppers from Manhattan which would have made it an economically feasible stop and wouldn’t wake up anybody at seven in the morning, but as mentioned – nobody listens to me.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Traipsing down Jackson Avenue, one discovered that a Union protest of some sort (electricians, I think) was being aimed at the so called “5Ptz Towers” construction site. Personally, I’ve always believed there to be enough rodents of the home grown variety here in Long Island City, but there you go. One of these days, I’ve got to investigate where one would proceed to shop in pursuance of purchasing inflatable rodents. As you can see, there’s a regular and a family size model.
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peculiar precaution
It’s National Tortilla Chip Day, in these United States.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Finishing off my week of non ugly subject matter, here’s a few shots of delicious things shot close up, and I’ll talk about ugly things instead. Regarding these shots, you’ve seen them before, just about a year ago. One of the interesting things about my little world is that my photos serve as bookmark reminders for what I was thinking and experiencing while shooting them. In the case of today’s shots, it was searing pain and an incapacitating shoulder injury. Pain is an odd thing, something which the brain… well, my brain at least… tries to forget.
Think about it – if I say warm summer day, or allude to some pleasure of a sexual nature, or mention fresh bread coming out of the oven – your mind will begin to ruminate on the sensations described by those circumstances. If instead it’s “burned by an oven” or “cut by a knife” or “punched in the nose” you’ve got a vague idea of that as being unpleasant, but the actual memory of it is fairly well buried. It is for me, at least. I remember that it sucked, but can’t summon up a memory of the actual feeling.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Every now and then, one will allow himself to fully experience the full coterie of nervous signals which my conscious mind filters out. All of the minor injuries and day to day pathologies are allowed to signal their intent, and for a minute or two I get in touch with a lifetime of injuries. The vague numbness in my left thumb from that time in high school, or the disconcerting clicking that’s been present in my knee since that time I fell out of a moving car in college? Yup. The “turf toe” pain in my foot which is always there, a consequence of doing all the walking across miles of concrete that I engage in? Um hum. The evolving issues with and constant discomfort emanating from my always crappy teeth? Yessir. The list goes on and on – the weird pain in my left neck, right side lower back, left hip… Essentially, if I was to allow myself to fully experience all of these things all of the time, I’d fall over and writhe.
Then I tune it back out. I figure the only difference between me and someone 15-20 years older than I am is that you lose the ability to filter out the pain.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Saying that, whereas I have a distinct memory of the last time that I had a tooth go bad enough on me that it needed to be pulled, one finds it difficult to precisely remember the actual sensation. I can describe positive sensations in excruciating detail, conversely, but the things from my personal history that I remember are all decidedly negative in nature. The sound of a breaking bone, the feeling of a razor knife lacerating the skinvelope, the impact of a booted foot on my teeth – all that I’ve got. The smell of a newborn baby, or the aforementioned fresh loaf of bread? Not so much.
How about you? Do you remember the taste of vomit, or do you just remember puking?
– photo by Mitch Waxman
What do you want me to say, I’m all ‘effed up.
Back Monday with something completely different, at this, your Newtown Pentacle.
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The Newtown Pentacle 