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conscious or subconscious

I am the night. You have feasted well…

- photo by Mitch Waxman

Recently,while traversing through the so called Court Square area found around Davis and Jackson in LIC, a humble narrator found himself deploying the camera and shooting into the fuligin night. This was a bit of whimsy on my part, as I had just watched the premiere episode of the new television series “Gotham.” It seems that…

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headlong down

Nowhere to go, no one to talk to, like a falling autumn leaf – me.

- photo by Mitch Waxman

One actually did have someplace to go last week - as a rare social occasion wherein a group of us who work for the Brownstoner Queens site commiserated over dinner and drinks in the Dutch Kills neighborhood last week. This drew me out just as the rain clouds were blowing out last Thursday night, and the…

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physical resistance

This is actually a Newtown Pentacle post, sorry for the spam this morning.

- photo by Mitch Waxman

Not sure how, as my passwords etc. were still secure when I checked, but at 8:24 this morning – a spam posting propagated out from this site. First time in better than 5 years that there’s been a breech, but security protocols (changing passwords, mainly)have been invoked. Sorry for the spam,…

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human organism

Something older than me!

- photo by Mitch Waxman

Spotted recently over in hoary Greenpoint, on Kingsland Avenue across the street from the former Mobil/SOCONY refinery, was this cool car. Its been a fixture in the neighborhood for a few weeks, but I finally crossed its path when the light was just right. I’m fairly sure that this is a customized Ford Galaxie 500 Four Door Sedan.

- photo by…

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offensive draft

Caught out, as a lout and a cheat.

- photo by Mitch Waxman

My Beloved Creek has recently let a humble narrator know that she knows about several summertime visits I’ve paid to the Gowanus, and she’s pissed at me. I tell her that it’s unnatural for a man to have just one toxic waterway, and that the Gowanus means nothing to me. It’s Newtown Creek that I really love.

- photo by Mitch Waxman

Newto…

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tangible stream

To plunder, butcher, steal, these things they misname empire: they make a desolation and they call it peace.

- photo by Mitch Waxman

A colloquial translation from Tacitus’s Agricola, attributed to the Caledonian Chieftain Calgacus, the little ditty at the top of this post was originally written in Latin (as you’d imagine). The original goes like this – Auferre, trucidare, rapere, falsis…

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uttermost fields

Night shooting in DUPBO, Down under the Pulaski Bridge Onramp.

- photo by Mitch Waxman

Saturday last,your humble narrator attended the first half of the North Brooklyn Boat Club’s annual “Rock the Pulaski” party. One arrived a bit early, staked out a spot of the bulkhead, and waited for it to get dark. Pictured above, obviously, is Frederick Zurmuhlen’s 1954 vintage double bascule Pulaski Bridge…

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molecular motion

First, you make a hole, then you fill the hole. Why bother?

- photo by Mitch Waxman

Not too many days ago, a humble narrator was startled by a positive cacophony arising from without. Even by the standards of Astoria, which seems to present one with oceans of variegated and unending noise, this was an outlandish amount of sound. Sounded like someone was tearing apart the very street. Turns out,…

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delicate adjustments

The night time is the right time…

- photo by Mitch Waxman

Wandering about Astoria with a little dog called Zuzu, one observes a series of interesting tableaus. Zuzu requires a certain daily amount of marching about, so as to check her “pee mail” at every tree pit – and given her legendarily thick double coat of fur, this is best accomplished long after the burning thermonuclear eye of god itself…

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