Posts Tagged ‘Long Island City’
twisting willows
“follow” me on Twitter at @newtownpentacle
– photo by Mitch Waxman, 2012
During this infirmity which has struck me down, a twisting gimlet of overstressed tissue in my lower back (for those of you who haven’t read my endless complaints about it in the last week), an amazing amount of time has been spent combing the vast Internet in search of amusement and diversion. While doing so, a few images at the New York City Municipal Archives provided me with some intellectual whimsy. The shot above is quite modern, captured a few days after Hurricane Sandy. It depicts the “Queens Midtown Highway” section of the Long Island Expressway.
– photo by nycma.lunaimaging.com, May 13, 1941
The historic shot from May 1941, above, is shot from a few hundred feet south of my vantage point. Unfortunately, the spot where that photographer stood is now obscured by both a chain link fence and a highway sign which blocks the historic view. Of particular note in the 1941 shot are the presence of private homes, rather than industrial buildings, along the northern side of the highway. Also, the blanket of vaporous exhaust visible in the air of Long Island City is of some interest.
fallen over
“follow” me on Twitter at @newtownpentacle
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Thanksgiving weekend is no time to burden you with cares or worries, that’s Walmart and your family’s job, so the Newtown Pentacle tradition is to kick back and present singular images which appeal to the sensibility and tastes of a humble narrator. Above, and I do believe that this shot has run before at this – your Newtown Pentacle, is depicted the corner of 31st street and Broadway in demimonde plagued Astoria. The structure, of course, is the the elevated track of the Subway. There’s just something about the light in this one which I really dig.
nerve powder
“follow” me on Twitter at @newtownpentacle
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Suffer, suffer, suffer. That’s the status on the bad back situation, which I am tired of complaining about. The holiday weekend is upon us, and accordingly, you will see rather short postings here for the next couple of days as most of you will be eating and shopping with loved ones in lesser cities and hopefully have little or no time to listen to me. Pictured above is the never ending stream of traffic entering Queens from the great machine called Queensboro, by the way. We’ll have new conversation on Monday, as in my infirmity I’ve been reading quite a bit about both cannibalism and crocodiles.
lurk unseen
– photo by Mitch Waxman
As mentioned a day or two ago, your humble narrator is currently incapacitated due to a lower back injury. Manifestations of my inferior physical robustness such as this pop up occasionally, serving as reminders of a weak and sickly childhood. Seldom does one go more than a few weeks without some new complaint, which when compounded with the diminishment of advancing years, paints dire portents about long term survival.
from wikipedia
Back pain is regularly cited by national governments as having a major impact on productivity, through loss of workers on sick leave. Some national governments, notably Australia and the United Kingdom, have launched campaigns of public health awareness to help combat the problem, for example the Health and Safety Executive’s Better Backs campaign. In the United States lower back pain’s economic impact reveals that it is the number one reason for individuals under the age of 45 to limit their activity, second highest complaint seen in physician’s offices, fifth most common requirement for hospitalization, and the third leading cause for surgery.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Those around me grow increasingly wary watching this process working upon me. Extraordinary effort at maintaining an appearance and facade of bon vivant and vigor fall apart when these sudden spells occur. Unfortunately, this is my true self- timorous and wracked with an inconceivable number of physical maladies. For the moment, it is difficult to surmount a shallow set of stairs, let alone perform a perambulation.
from wikipedia
The lumbar region (or lower back region) is made up of five vertebrae (L1-L5). In between these vertebrae lie fibrocartilage discs (intervertebral discs), which act as cushions, preventing the vertebrae from rubbing together while at the same time protecting the spinal cord. Nerves stem from the spinal cord through foramina within the vertebrae, providing muscles with sensations and motor associated messages. Stability of the spine is provided through ligaments and muscles of the back, lower back and abdomen. Small joints which prevent, as well as direct, motion of the spine are called facet joints (zygapophysial joints).
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Pain, aside from the psychological torments and thwarted ambitions which are part and parcel of my daily round, is something I am quite used to. The particular complaint in my lower back has all the appearance of something temporary, a visitor for the holidays sent to remind me that time is short, and that despite all- I am human, all too human. At least I still have a heated and electrified house to live in, which seems to be a blessing in the New York City area these days. My little dog, however, seems quite concerned about me and has been sticking to my heels.
from wikipedia
Before the relatively recent discovery of neurons and their role in pain, various different body functions were proposed to account for pain. There were several competing early theories of pain among the ancient Greeks: Aristotle believed that pain was due to evil spirits entering the body through injury, and Hippocrates believed that it was due to an imbalance in vital fluids. In the 11th century, Avicenna theorized that there were a number of feeling senses including touch, pain and titillation, but prior to the scientific Renaissance in Europe pain was not well-understood, and it was thought that pain originated outside the body, perhaps as a punishment from God.
unmentionable spheres
“follow” me on Twitter at @newtownpentacle
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Psychological exhaustion, physical decline, and lowered expectations define me. Pedantic depression, paranoid wonderings, and oblique idiocy fills me. Aberrant behavior, heretical ideations, and thought crimes form and obviate into self fulfilling prophecies of dire future tidings. So doomed, your humble narrator nevertheless wanders the concrete devastation of the Newtown Pentacle, seeking what might find him.
from hplovecraft.com
It would not be the first time his sensations had been forced to bide uninterpreted—for was not his very act of plunging into the polyglot abyss of New York’s underworld a freak beyond sensible explanation? What could he tell the prosaic of the antique witcheries and grotesque marvels discernible to sensitive eyes amidst the poison cauldron where all the varied dregs of unwholesome ages mix their venom and perpetuate their obscene terrors? He had seen the hellish green flame of secret wonder in this blatant, evasive welter of outward greed and inward blasphemy, and had smiled gently when all the New-Yorkers he knew scoffed at his experiment in police work. They had been very witty and cynical, deriding his fantastic pursuit of unknowable mysteries and assuring him that in these days New York held nothing but cheapness and vulgarity.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Embarrassed and awkward, the narration and conduct of interested enthusiasts and tourists on excursions through these blasted heaths and valleys surrounding a historical morass called the Newtown Creek over the last year has ameliorated the caul of profound loneliness one such as myself was born with. That interval, however, is at an end- for now- and omnipresent realities once again rule the day and torment the night. Sleep is no longer eagerly sought, the air is chill, and darkness arrives too early for my taste. All is not right.
from hplovecraft.com
I do not recall distinctly when it began, but it was months ago. The general tension was horrible. To a season of political and social upheaval was added a strange and brooding apprehension of hideous physical danger; a danger widespread and all-embracing, such a danger as may be imagined only in the most terrible phantasms of the night. I recall that the people went about with pale and worried faces, and whispered warnings and prophecies which no one dared consciously repeat or acknowledge to himself that he had heard. A sense of monstrous guilt was upon the land, and out of the abysses between the stars swept chill currents that made men shiver in dark and lonely places. There was a daemoniac alteration in the sequence of the seasons—the autumn heat lingered fearsomely, and everyone felt that the world and perhaps the universe had passed from the control of known gods or forces to that of gods or forces which were unknown.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Blissful and willful ignorance is craved, and my plans for the immediate future involve fading into the worm eaten woodwork for a time. Missives will continue to be offered at this location, but only by an accident or unforeseen coincidence will they describe interaction with others. Disgusting, the vast human hive has no claims on me for an interval, and into a calcified shell will your humble narrator withdraw.
from hplovecraft.com
The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents. We live on a placid island of ignorance in the midst of black seas of infinity, and it was not meant that we should voyage far. The sciences, each straining in its own direction, have hitherto harmed us little; but some day the piecing together of dissociated knowledge will open up such terrifying vistas of reality, and of our frightful position therein, that we shall either go mad from the revelation or flee from the deadly light into the peace and safety of a new dark age.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
To the graveyards, and beneath the bridges will your humble narrator hie, where hideous countenance and bizarre behaviors will go unnoticed. Sallow and shrunken, diseased and confused, once more shall only a filthy black raincoat be noticed as it flaps away in those shrill winds which plague and scourge the ancient towns and villages surrounding the Newtown Creek. Always must I remain, appropriately, an outsider.
from hplovecraft.com
I had known that he now remained mostly shut in the attic laboratory with that accursed electrical machine, eating little and excluding even the servants, but I had not thought that a brief period of ten weeks could so alter and disfigure any human creature. It is not pleasant to see a stout man suddenly grown thin, and it is even worse when the baggy skin becomes yellowed or greyed, the eyes sunken, circled, and uncannily glowing, the forehead veined and corrugated, and the hands tremulous and twitching. And if added to this there be a repellent unkemptness; a wild disorder of dress, a bushiness of dark hair white at the roots, and an unchecked growth of pure white beard on a face once clean-shaven, the cumulative effect is quite shocking.
The Newtown Pentacle 