Posts Tagged ‘Pickman’
incessant mixings
It’s National Coconut Torte Day, in these United States.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
There’s about three thousand commercial air flights on any given day in the NYC area. This includes helicopters, all three airports, even the sort of goofy water plane you see in the shot above. One such as myself has no desire, or ability, to leave “home sweet hell.” NYC is where everybody else is working to get to, but if you’re born here, that’s already been all sorted out.
Personally speaking, I’d like to just get out of Astoria for a few days, but back to back colds in March and a pulled abdominal muscle at the end of February have kept me on the bench, and the injured list. Into each life a little rain must fall and all that, but jeez…
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The good news is that my infirmaties have allowed for catching up on a lot of television shows which all my friends have been rattling on about. One can highly recommend the Marvel “Daredevil” show on Netflix, which purports to be set in Manhattan’s Hells Kitchen but which is shot in Greenpoint, Bushwick, and especially Long Island City. Long time readers of this – your Newtown Pentacle – will likely be thrilled seeing “The Man without Fear” duking it out with an army of Ninjas in LIC’s Degnon Terminal nearby LaGuardia Community College.
In many ways, it confirms something I’ve always believed might be occurring on the rooftops of LIC, but you’d need some sort of aircraft (or maybe a drone) to witness it. The Marvel Netflix series are largely being produced at the Broadway Stages company based in Greenpoint, so it’s an easy reach to see why LIC looms so large in it. Also, Manhattan’s west side doesn’t really look like NYC anymore, due to the real estate craze.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Just because a humble narrator switched gears and stopped writing and drawing comics a few years back doesn’t mean that my childhood fascinations have abided. I can also recommend to you Marvel’s “Doctor Strange” film. What does all this have to do with a blog devoted to the history of Newtown Creek and the communities surrounding it?
Nothing, but you’re going to need something to do when that blizzard hits us.
“follow” me on Twitter- @newtownpentacle
fragrant memories
It’s National Blueberry Popover Day, in these United States.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
A few odd and end shots of critters encountered today. Low tide at Hells Gate will offer you a chance to observe a gaggle of gulls exploiting the exposed intertidal zone. Gulls evolved what turns out to be one of the most important adaptations for survival on a human dominated planet – inedibility. You can actually eat them, but reportedly they taste heavily of all things maritime and you have to worry about worms and accumulated toxins. In their world, Gulls are near the top of the food chain and their diet consists of critters which the environmental activist community would describe as “bio accumulators.” Apparently, there are people who eat gulls, but gussy them up with bacon and a whole pack of spice.
Bacon could make a turd taste nice, I believe, but it ain’t kosher.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Squirrels are regularly eaten by Americans, although this one from Astoria Park doesn’t have to worry too much about being consumed by a human. It’s main problem are Hawks and Falcons, Dogs and Cats, and Raccoons. I’m told that Opposums and even Rats will go after squirrel nests. There’s something about the phrase “squirrel nest” that just fills me with an indefatigable whimsy.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
A culinary tradition from Europe continues in the United States, which states that swan meat is reserved for the tables of royalty, and it’s generally not on the menu for us common folk. Another water fowl near the top of its food chain, the Mute Swan pictured above probably has a liver full of mercury and PCB’s, and it’s flesh is likely riddled with parasitic worms picked up out of the sewage laden waters of New York Harbor – or in the case of the bird above, Luyster Creek in Astoria on the forbidden northern coast of Queens.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
As you many have discerned, it’s time for a humble narrator to organize up his luncheon. Y’know, a blueberry popover sounds pretty good right now.
See you Monday, with something completely different at this – your Newtown Pentacle.
“follow” me on Twitter- @newtownpentacle
utterly devoid
It’s National Potato Salad Day, National Peanut Cluster Day, and National Pancake Day, in these United States.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Where to go, what to see, and why bother? Such are the thoughts which intrude and occlude whenever one such as myself leaves the house. Someone else has always gotten there first, and there are certain scenes which – while they never disappoint – I’ve visited literally thousands of times. I’d like to travel abroad, photographing exotic animals and esoteric people, but that would likely involve a good deal of finance, and planning, and I hate to fly. Also, it may be too hot, or cold, and I’ll likely get sunburned. Physical discomfort will likely result, my cherished preconceptions would likely be challenged, or I could end up being killed and eaten by a pack of monkeys.
Ultimately, everyone and everything will eventually make it to Queens anyway so why leave? As the band TLC advised – stick to the hills and waterfalls you’re used to. We’ve got the monkey situation sorted out around here already, there are no uncaged hippos or other large mammalian killers (other than mankind), and I know every possible private spot there is to urinate around these parts. As a note: There are two public bathrooms in Calvary Cemetery, but the one at the Review Avenue gates is often locked. You really, really shouldn’t let loose elsewhere in the cemetery. That’s just disrespectful.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
On a recent wander through Calvary, wherein I was exploring the eastern side of the polyandrion, a humble narrator became the focus of attention for a group of Crows. Possibly Ravens, but I don’t know what the difference between the two are. My belief is that they saw my filthy black raincoat flapping about and figured that one of their own had taken to the ground, but I’m an idiot. As is usually the case, for some reason birds aren’t afraid of me. I can walk through a flock of pigeons or sparrows pecking at the ground and they neither scatter into the air nor otherwise acknowledge my presence.
For some reason this is equal parts disconcerting and deeply satisfying.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
As mentioned above, Long Island City is famously home neither to packs of carnivorous monkeys, nor lurking hippopotamus, or even large feline predators. There are absolutely no giant fire breathing lizards or irradiated turtles lurking in Newtown Creek, which categorically never attacked Maspeth in June or September of 1958.
Our big problem are the vampires, of course, who lurk in the shadowed rafters of the Long Island Expressway during the day, as well as the elevated subway tracks around Queens Plaza and Roosevelt Avenue. There are reportedly “things” down in the sewers which the NYC DEP refuses to acknowledge, bizarre abominations and parodies of the primatological branch which IND platform based commuters sometimes spot moving about in the fuligin shadows of the subway tunnels. The MTA denies their existence too, calling them “urban legends.”
There are the rat kings, the cockroach collective consiousness, and the aboriginal horrors which lurk at Hallets Cove – but that’s another story. If you ask the U.S. Coast Guard, they’ll deny those reports offered by professional sailors of a sea monster dwelling in the turbidity of Hells Gate, one which only emerges during powerful thunder storms.
“follow” me on Twitter- @newtownpentacle
bleary eyed
It’s National Crown Roast of Pork Day, in these United States.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Death – the fear of same, avoidance of said state, and the unavoidability of both circumstances stains my waking hours. Science fiction scenarios involving the transfer of my brain into some electrode laden jar both tempt and torment, as it would needlessly lengthen my existence but offer an extended period of time in which to annoy others. Thing is, everywhere I go, death is already there. Newtown Pentacle HQ is located in a rental apartment in Astoria, and shortly after moving in my landlord and his wife came by for dinner. We chatted, and enjoyed a bottle of wine together, but he refused to answer my query as to whether or not anyone had ever died in my then new domicile which is about a century old (I like to know if its likely a specter or just a rodent making that mysterious noise in the middle of the night).
It’s more than likely, in NYC, that somebody has kicked the bucket in your place if it’s over a certain age. Real estate interests preclude the discussion of such matters, as the reputation of haunted premises tends to depress potential profits by lowering the rental threshold. Nobody wants to live in a haunted house.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
This haunted realtor hypothesis of mine is how I explain the relative lack of supernatural lore enjoyed by New York City as compared to other eastern cities of proportionate size and commensurate age. Boston seems to have a ghost in every single home, as does Albany, Philadelphia, Baltimore, Charleston, Atlanta, St. Augustine, and especially New Orleans. New York City, on the other hand, saw its first great fortune arise around the Real Estate industry (The Astors). Realtors and property owners have always enjoyed a somewhat unique socioeconomic status in this megalopolis of ours, and accordingly, they control the newspapers. To this day, the number one class of advertisers in any City oriented publication involves real estate. The conspiracy theory I suggest is that there has been a tacit and centuries long agreement between editors, journalists, and the folks who ultimately pay their salaries not to report on poltergeists, phantoms, or noncorporeal bogeymen.
Famously, the most expensive real estate in New York City – in terms of price per square foot – is found in cemeteries. Four square meters in the ground can run you hundreds of thousands of bucks. No wonder ghosts would prefer to just squat inside some living person’s walls, alongside the rat skeletons. I’m actually surprised that the real estate guys haven’t figured out a way to monetize that gap of a few inches which is sandwiched between the slat boards and drywall.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
For years, one has joked that when the EPA finally begins dredging out Newtown Creek that NYPD will be closing half of its open missing persons cold case files. I wonder how many human remains came spilling out of the old factory and tenement walls which were demolished in recent years in LIC and Williamsburg. Ever wonder what that weird smell in your apartment was, or where it was coming from? Presumed it was a dead mouse?
It makes one wonder, and more than wonder.
“follow” me on Twitter- @newtownpentacle
curious sequel
It’s European Day of the Righteous, in the European Union.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
As a note, last week I decided to play around a bit with my camera, in the cause of doing “the opposite of what I normally do.” All of today’s shots were shot with my night lenses set wide open to f1.8. Why? Why not? Gotta mix things up every now and then. I had nothing else to do anyway, as I was early for a meeting in LIC and was just hanging around killing time.
The thing in the sapphire megalith finds everything we mortals do funny.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
A curious access – or manhole – cover was spotted along Jackson Avenue at a former Taxi depot which has recently been vacated. No doubt, this site will soon host a gigantic apartment building, of course. The creed on the manhole cover is “NYCTS” which likely indicates it as the property of the MTA (NYC Transit System).
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Having little to do and no where else to go, one headed over to the crumbling 51st avenue footbridge in anticipation of watching a LIRR train go by. Given the current expectations of joy which one such as myself expects, this was a rather exciting prospect, and when the railroad’s signal arms descended over Borden Avenue, I was all a twitter.
This is pretty much all I’ve got these days.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
That’s the LIRR 7100, and unless I’m mistaken – it’s one the 836 electric M7 electric multiple units that the MTA bought from the Bombardier company and which started service in 2002. It’s moving from the Hunters Point Yard to the Hunters Point Avenue station, after crossing under the Pulaski Bridge and across Borden Avenue.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Presuming that I’m correct in naming it as an M7, the train is powered via a non proverbial third rail, just like the NYCTA subway system. I hung around for a little bit and watched the train pass by, as I was still quite early for my meeting.
It was all kind of depressing, actually.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Long Island City has grown so significantly in recent years that this, along with all the other lonely spots which I used to indulge my innate and deep sense of isolation in, was quite crowded. The 51st avenue footbridge which I was squatting upon had a steady stream of pedestrian traffic flowing over it.
Your humble narrator was in the way, as I am in many situations and scenarios.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The LIRR train continued on to the Hunters Point Avenue station where it picked up people who had somewhere to go. I had somewhere to go for a change, so I flopped out the big lens for the small one and headed over to my meeting.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The thing in the megalith doesn’t care how any of us feel, just so you know.
“follow” me on Twitter- @newtownpentacle
The Newtown Pentacle 