#Binghamton

[newyorkstate-official]

(This isn't supposed to be out of malice for the other state game polls! I got a good chuckle out of most of the New York polls :) )

[foxholecore]

My coworker was wearing a lanyard that had the Bearcats on it. No idea what school or team it was from, cause the only thing running through my mind was the game against Binghamton before Neil was taken.

[20th-century-railroading]

STL648 by Citizen of the Galaxy Via Flickr: Of all the switchers working the Binghamton area during the early Conrail era, SW-900M No. 8648 (ex-LV 121) might have been the most popular, as the unit ran in full Lehigh Valley Cornell Red paint with black diamonds and pinstripes. I only got one decent shot of it, and here it is, from 6 January 1980, hauling cars on the ex-Lackawanna main, viewed from across the Erie side at Titchener Place in the First Ward section of the city.

[matthewdwhite]

Johnson City, NY 10/18

The Red Robin 1959-2021

[restlessaddict]

The calm in the chaos 🏞

[nando161mando]

[Binghamton, USA]

@antifainternational @radicalgraff @left-reminders @anarchistmemecollective @kropotkindersurprise

[venusdevotea]

It was a cold night in Binghamton.

I was waiting for the bus after going to Hannah's. I don't remember how late it was, but late enough that I worried for my safety, alone on the edge of the sidewalk, waiting on the corner like any other respectable lady of the night.

I pulled out my phone, but I didn't call you. What would you have done anyway?

I pretended to instead, talking to myself like a crazy woman chatting with a ghost.

From miles and countries away, a girl in upstate New York pretended to call a British boy from the notes app on her phone as if he would ever be coming to pick her up.

Maybe I did it to feel safe, to ward off any suspicious passersby looking to pickup a girl for the night.

Maybe I did it because I was lonely and cold, for that matter and the imagined presence of you made up for the warmth I lacked in my fingertips.

Thirty minutes felt like an hour. I felt like crying. I was falling apart in a place so unknown and so unfamiliar to me, with friends that disregarded me like dirt, and no one to rely on but my own voice rattling out in the cold, calling to some boy who could not hear her.

Was I drunk? Was I high? I don't remember. I was exhausted. But the bus came, I scanned my ID, and tried not to start a rem cycle while shivering. I got home safe that night. I guess that's all that mattered.

No mention of the heart shattered in Binghamton, New York would have changed anything anyway.

[senor-plume]

Port Dickinson Park

[retroboldphotography]

[caviarandgritsband]

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[keithgoldstein]

Diner

L1120672

[20th-century-railroading]

Beat-Up Big M by Don Kalkman Via Flickr: Battered and bruised MLW M636 4706 and GATX SD40-2 2002 (former Union Pacific) had D&H train 553 rolling out of Binghamton at Phelps Road in 1992.

The Big was looking pretty sad but was still working hard and sounding fantastic.

May 11, 1992

[aryburn-trains]

Former DL&W 818 and former Erie 826 sit with the mostly mail and express train 22 in Port Jervis. This was a Binghamton to Hoboken accommodation that was run after the through trains had been routed over the Lackawanna. It was a really cold night. January, 1965

[bobrosenbaum]

A Pretty Death, Binghamton, New York, Autumn 1975.

A moment from one of my very first Fall walks loaded with high speed 35mm color slide film in the woods of Binghamton's South Mountain, the pristine backyard of my youth.

This exposure also marks one of the first times I processed Ektachrome film in my darkroom. Years of black-and-white processing experience could not prepare me for the sensation of viewing that roll of dripping-wet, newborn color images. It's hard to appreciate that feeling now, living as we do in a world where ultra-saturated color images and videos bombard us from every street corner sign and every screen, everyday.

What is the act of making a photograph if not a visit to another realm from wherever we are at this moment -- half present, half absent, a vague sensation of disbelief wrapped in wonder.

[unteriors]

Park Avenue, Binghamton, New York.

[venusdevotea]

S N O W F A L L

You can almost hear it, you know.

only if you listen closely.

The soft kisses of crystal snow

greeting the ground in the shroud of night.

Held in place by the spell of calm

that engulfs this moment-

It was the thing that brought you the most fear of all.

This gnawing sense of growing dread in the pit of your stomach,

this, this hypnotizing serenity begging you to stop-

to still- to witness.

In a whirlwind campus of bustle,

to hold your breath for a moment was death,

certain death, when there are so many things to do.

The steady tinkling of stars now littering the pavement,

you look up to the flickering presence of a streetlight

as if it too, was uncertain of its place-

to perform and cast it's harsh light onto the ocean of night,

or to release, let go, give in, surrender to the spell.

Your breath escapes you in soft white clouds,

and yet, you remain still.