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Hear ye! Hear ye!
“TILDEN” – my 7 song collection is officially released.
Oceans, fire, cello, baroque pop, NYC, my indie-rock roots – a totally new mashup.
“a slice of nautical punk poetry set to cello and performed for a drunken Marie Antoinette birthday party”
Listen here: http://mattloganmusic.bandcamp.com/album/tilden
This one’s dedicated to Ryan Messmore
Cover art by Emily Linstrom
The sky was falling that day – yet sparse little groups were coming for the refuge of the Atlantic.
on the other side of the city, perched on granite
millions make their daily marks
More photos here: www.flickr.com/photos/mattron
I took this photo some time ago along with others documenting the crumbling World’s Fair Grounds of Flushing Meadows-Corona Park.
It was featured on Friday’s Gothamist. $43 million is needed to restore the facilities and save them from destruction.
More of my pictures of the place are here: https://ventilateblog.wordpress.com/tag/worlds-fair-grounds/
A century ago, guardian of the Atlantic approach to NY Harbor. Artillery with a range of 25-miles pointed seaward waiting for the German ships that never came – save perhaps for a handful of shadowy U-boats, seen and unseen.
A patch of sandy desolation on the fragile narrow spit of the Rockaway Peninsula, which barely rises between ocean and the Jamaica Bay. In the distance, a proud Manhattan skyline – a mirage of a completely different world – hazy and not quite existent.
Wars of the sea gave way to wars of the air. The big guns were traded in for the Nikes, missiles designed to knock high-altitude Soviet bombers out of the Metropolitan sky.
And then, a few decades ago – total obsolescence, abandonment, and decay. Gutted shells, overgrown and sinking into the sand, which in turn, minute by minute, sinks into the waves. It’s lately been a playground of the fringes – artists, photographers, graffiti, and seekers of ramshackle ephemera.
The hurricane pummelled the city, and the peninsula took a huge punch, a slap in the face of human futility. For that night, the peninsula did not exist, but became ocean and bay – Neighborhoods near the isolated base washed away and burned. Sand piled high like snow drifts that never melt, overturned cars, buried homes and memories.
Pieces of Tilden dissolved into the waves. But what is already ruined is hard to ruin again. At this former fort, a few solid walls are down, the sand mounts high, and a faint, musty, low-tide smell still faintly emits from the ground below. But the gun battery embedded in the bluffs still stares blankly into the sea, awaiting 100-year-old dreadnoughts and battleships that will never appear. Since the Storm, it’s become barricaded, forbidden, heavily patrolled by the authorities – a no man’s land – A silent sentinel upon the wild dunes of a wild beach on the barren coastal fringes of the City.
No. 1 – In which I rain Fire upon the dread Squid so lately harassing our noble Shores. Stand yo’ ground!
me in front of the camera for once…
photo by Ron Gejon Photography
Flushing Meadows – Corona Park: Home of the 1964 World’s Fair, the iconic Unisphere, the NY Mets, the Billie Jean King Tennis Center… and a small nation’s worth of squirrels. Of all the wild creatures that make their home amongst human city-dwellers, they are surely the most endearing. Especially in late summer, when the badass squirrels of Queens come down from their trees and take on the U.S. Open.
For the 2nd year in a row, one of our woodland neighbors eluded security and made it onto the court of Arthur Ashe Stadium, in front of countless global viewers.
And this, in 2012:
It’s always a joy when a tiny animal can interrupt international sport; long live the squirrels of NY!