Posts Tagged ‘Crane’
Things a-popping, everywhere’s ya looks
Friday
– photo by Mitch Waxman
After a long interval of ‘have-to’s,’ your humble narrator finally found a little time for the camera’s exercises. I had the car with me, and drove to where I was going, violating my normal habit of leaving the car at home when out scuttling. Since I was hyper-mobile, I checked in on the Rook Yard of the Wheeling & Lake Erie RR outfit while on my way. They were doing ‘something,’ with that train set moving back and forth while workers adjusted the switches. Everybody has something to do.
Our Lady of the Pentacle was out of town, and Moe the Dog was thereby nervous and ‘faklempt’ without her for better than a week. She’s goodness and light, Out Lady is, and when she’s not here all the dog has to rely on is me.
I’m horrible, an intelligence of malign instincts housed in the decaying cadaver of a man, an outsider and abomination which somehow walks and breathes but never seems to stop talking. Poor Moe had to deal with me, but after a certain interval of service to the pup, one needed to get some exercise and wave the camera around lest madness take over.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
I drove down to the Monongahela River shoreline, and the Colors Park, where there’s also a parking lot. After the Mobile Oppression Platform was safely stowed, one gathered his gear together and set out for a scuttle. It was just a few miles this time, and I opted for a familiar section of the Great Allegheny Passage trail to focus in on and where I’d slap the pavement with my feet.
The concrete factory next door to the Sly Fox brewery was unloading a minerals barge and piling the stuff up for processing.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Since this was going to be a short walk, it had been decided to try and walk as fast as I’m capable of these days. Cardio, yo.
It was a warm autumn day in Pittsburgh, with clear skies and temperatures in the upper 70’s. Your humble narrator ‘leaned into it.’ No headphones or audiobooks for this walk, which I’d already capstoned as being ‘Liberty Bridge to Fort Pitt Bridge and back.’ There and back again is just under three miles. A short walk, thereby.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Back at HQ, Moe had really been working me during Pu Lady’s absence. I’m fond of telling the neighbors that Moe is very much Our Lady’s dog, but that I’m his favorite toy. That played out in an ever tightening circle of annoyance for me, and I desperately needed a break from the inter species dynamic for an afternoon.
Great care was exercised, in terms of moving about the world, given that Our Lady was on another continent and recent experience with the broken ankle revealed that your whole life can be turned upside down unexpectedly. Moe’s life was literally in my hands.
A ‘deadman’s switch’ was instituted with one of my neighbors. If she did not receive a daily text from me, her husband would then be instructed to break into my house after work and save Moe. I told them to just leave my body lying wherever they found it for the coroner to deal with.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Hey Now! I was hoping a train or two might appear.
That’s CSX #7225, heading away from Ohio along the outfit’s Pittsburgh Subdivision (aka Keystone Subdivision) tracks along the Monongahela River. Tankers, that what it was hauling. Could have been fuel, or chemicals, can’t tell you what was inside. I also fundamentally do not care.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
I still had a few days of solo service to the dog ahead of me. Our Lady is British, and she had headed home to visit her Dad and Brother as well as her passel of old friends. A hellish interval for me.
I hate the loneliness. I’ve become ‘institutionalized.’ Moe the Dog ain’t a great conversationalist.
Back next week with something different – at this – 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.
inappropriately enrobed
Wednesday
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Another night, another scuttle. This was a longish sort of walk. Starting in Astoria, along Broadway in the 40’s, I carried the camera into Sunnyside, then Long Island City, Blissville, and into industrial Maspeth. What fun.
First up was a stop at “ole reliable,” an oft visited fence hole at the Sunnyside Yards, one which provides a great point of view on the Harold Interlocking. The busiest passenger train junction in the United States, this spot is where both Long Island Railroad and Amtrak pass through on their way to and from Penn Station.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
A taxi company in Sunnyside is based in a structure reminiscent of the sort of early 1970’s toys that little boys craved. They have ramps and lifts and pipes that bellow steam. Also, since every parking spot on the blocks surrounding this company is claimed by one of their cabs, I don’t feel guilty peeing in between two of their taxis so it’s a bit of a destination.
One of the weird leave behinds of my experiences during the Covid period relates to the fact that the very few places you used to be able to piss – a McDonald’s or Diner bathroom for instance – have been closed and off limits. This means that I’ve gotten into the habit of “taking care of business” in the manner of a domestic dog. This has become a bit of an issue for me during the various travels to other cities detailed in earlier posts, as the citizenry of other communities generally take a dim view of such practices. Well, you can take the boy out of the dystopian shithole…
– photo by Mitch Waxman
My fascination with gas stations is another Covid period “thing.” To be fair, though, they’re very difficult subjects to photograph in low light – just like the LIRR train in the first shot – and that sort of camera related challenge draws me in like a moth to a candle’s flame.
At the start of Covid, we had pantry moths show up in the house. They arrived in a bag of dry dog food. It took the better part of two years to exterminate the little bastards using pheromone scented traps. Freaking Lepidoptera.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Queens Boulevard, the so called “boulevard of death,” was crossed next, and south did a humble narrator walk. Given that the streets of Queens aren’t quite as “crime lite” as they were a few years ago, one has renounced the habit of listening to audiobooks or music via headphones. I want to be able to hear someone’s sneakers slapping the pavement as they’re coming for me.
It’s actually amazing how quickly the entire City fell apart under the rule of De Blasio and his fellow fun lovers. Mr. Fairness and Equity oversaw a widening of the gap between rich and poor, an explosion of racially motivated crimes directed towards people of Asian descent, and every time he opened his mouth he would piss somebody off. Truly, that man was the Trump of the left. Incompetent, high on his own supply, and every opportunity to learn something new was rejected in favor of an ideological interpretation. At least Adams is fun.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Blissville, a section of Long Island City which borders industrial Maspeth, was the next place to be blighted by my foot steps. Blissville in the centuried home of First Calvary Cemetery, the polyandrion of the Roman Catholics. As a note – I never cross a fence line, and almost never trespass. The shot above was instead captured from the public way’s POV and I used the stout iron fences of the cemetery to steady the camera.
The mausolea pictured above is sort of unusual for a Catholic cemetery. The human remains encapsulated aren’t in the ground, rather they seem to reside within the granite capsule guarded by the Angel statue. Normally, the Catholics use the loam for the disbursement of their departed, burying the box (coffin or casket) about six feet down. Jews do the same, except when it comes to Mausolea. In Jewish funerary tradition, a mausoleum shelf or compartment is meant to be lined with soil from the Levant (Israel) prior to the placement of the box and its dearly departed cargo. Yes, it’s a racket.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Having fairly exhausted myself, after arriving at the “Crane District” of Industrial Maspeth, one summoned a ride share service to cart my sorry butt back home to Astoria. As mentioned in the past, I seem to have developed some brand loyalty towards the LYFT service as opposed to the Uber one.
One of my practices is to use a subway or bus or cab to deposit me somewhere, and then walk back to Astoria from… say… Flushing or Bushwick. This is something I started doing back before Covid, in fact. It vastly increases what I would consider to be walking distance, since the trip is sort of one way.
The Newtown Creekathon returns!
On April 10th, the all day death march around Newtown Creek awakens from its pandemic slumber.
DOOM! DOOM! Fully narrated by Mitch Waxman and Will Elkins of Newtown Creek Alliance, this one starts in LIC at the East River, heads through Blissville, the happy place of Industrial Maspeth, dips a toe in Ridgewood and then plunges desperately into Brooklyn. East Williamsburgh and then Greenpoint are visited and a desperate trek to the East River in Brooklyn commences. DOOM! Click here for more information and to reserve a spot – but seriously – what’s wrong with you that you’re actually considering doing this? DOOM!
“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.
eye holes
Tuesday, inevitably.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
All of this walking is a drag. What a humble narrator wants, nay needs, is a set of wheels. I don’t want one of your Camry’s or Buick’s either, what I want is a truly onerous vehicle. The sort of thing George Peppard and Ernest Borgnine would roll around with after a nuclear apocalypse in a 1970’s movie of the week. A vehicle with a dashboard switch for electrifying the fenders, puncture and bullet proof tires, and some sort of sonic deterrent anti-crowd mechanism mounted on the roof. I’d call it my “mobile oppression platform” or “MOP.” It would be a mighty vehicle, armored enough to drive through schools, and the entire thing would be outfitted with cameras to record the indignation of those unlucky enough to exist outside of it.
Within, I’d recreate a 1960’s American split level ranch house. Decor wise, it would look a great deal like Mike and Carol Brady’s place on the old tv show about their bunch, but with odd panels of knobs and blinking lights which control the external defensive mechanisms – flame throwers, barbed wire whips, steam jets.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Me and the MOP would be constantly moving, mainly to avoid answering the NYPD’s questions about the puddles of scarlet viscera we’d be scattering. Hull armor notwithstanding, personal security is no joke. “Van Life” has become a “thing” and particularly so during the pandemic. I’m seeing literally hundreds of RV’s and specially kitted out cargo vans that people are living in all over Brooklyn and Queens these days. Go to YouTube and type “van life” into the search bar and you’ll soon discover that this is a “thing.”
Obviously, none of these people are from Brooklyn, where certain habits acquired during the 1980’s saw people like me breaking glass bottles and cementing them to the window’s outside sills to keep the crackheads out. Inside, you’d keep a collection of hollow metal things which would make a clattering sound should someone knock them over while climbing through your window – allowing you enough time to grab one of the many weapons you had hidden around the apartment for easy use. What? You don’t have a pipe dressed up in electrical tape sticking out from under your mattress? What are you, some kind of hippie?
Nobody, and I mean nobody, will make it into the Mobile Oppression Platform uninvited. I’ll have trained guard Ferrets with fricking lasers mounted on their heads inside. Moe, Larry, Curly – three of them.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
I’d really like the MOP to have some sort of anti-gravity plate mounted on the bottom, as such kit would allow me to float about Damnation Alley with nary a care. Wheeled vehicles are stuck to the ground, after all, which means they consume a lot of fuel. Despite the fantastic amount of energy a nuclear reactor would offer, you still need a considerable amount of ancillary equipment to convert that energy into available electric or mechanical energy and that would impede the MOP’s mid century modern decor within. I’d like to install an engine thereby which spews as much pollution as possible, and burns bricks of sulphur just for effect.
I imagine the MOP as being about the length of three city buses, and about twenty five feet in height. There would be antennae as well, but you can always rig those back. This wouldn’t be a vehicle, this would be an Iron Man suit you sit inside of, my Mobile Oppression Platform.
I’m waiting for my stimulus check from the Patriarchy to arrive, then heading over to Northern Blvd. to go MOP shopping.
“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.
and so
BIRD!!!
– photo by Mitch Waxman
As it happens, even a humble narrator requires a break every now and then. Single images will be greeting you this week, and normal programming will resume Monday of next week.
That’s a photo of a crane, as you’ve likely surmised by now. It’s part of a collection of birds that you’ll find at the Bronx Zoo.
“follow” me on Twitter- @newtownpentacle
The Newtown Pentacle 