Grog

Happy Gnome

Our Next President...

Christ Meter

Brings May Flowers

Meter Graffiti - Part I

No TP

Guardian of the Meters

Smile!

A limbless, disfigured mannequin

A Face In The Dark

Toilets in the Middle of Basements - Part 3

Toilets in the Middle of Basements - Part 2

Toilets in the middle of basements office complex meter rooms Part 2

Toilets in the Middle of Basements - Part 1

Flash light

Venturing through an otherwise unlit and gloomy basement, I happened upon a small shaft of light, which, in its radiance, split the darkness in two.  Within this beam a single object could be discerned -  a monumental axe of war.  Initially I had to swallow my disbelief; what purpose was there, I thought, for a denizen of suburbia to have in his possession such a brutal and deadly token from our past?  Still, there it was before me, gleaming almost menacingly.  It consisted of two enormous blades, which formed a near perfect circle.  Joining these blades together was a massive hilt, which must have been over four feet in length.  Clearly this was a weapon meant to be swung with ample destructive force.  I fear that in my brazenness to document basements, I may be slowly unraveling a  truly sinister element to society...

Two months ago, I knocked on a front door. A voice from inside said "Come on in!" and I dutifully stepped into the foyer. The voice was coming from the kitchen, so I stuck my head in to exchange brief pleasantries before I read his meters. To my surprise and dismay, the elderly gentleman was standing in front of the counter, completely naked, making a sandwich. My spirits sagged nearly as much as...everything about the man's appearance, and I beat a hasty path to the basement. During that time, he managed to throw on a pair of shorts, and met me at the top of the stairs. His parting words to me as I left his house were "Some days I just don't feel like getting dressed. You know how it is."

I went back to his house today. He was clothed. His decor was not.

Catacombs

On reaching the terminus of a set of basement steps, I flipped the light switch and instantly recoiled in horror at sight of the bloated, grimacing face staring back at me. Its bared teeth and unblinking eyes told a story of torment; of a prolonged torture so solitary, silent, and dark that it beggared belief. The creature's hands were stiff and deformed, gnarled with the passage of time and atrophied with disuse. Amid the fear and desolation, however, springs eternal, futile hope. The creature--perhaps once as human as you or I--had gathered what scant material it could find in its dungeon and clothed itself in an crude approximation of what had once been considered fine society dress. Perhaps one day... I shall be released, it seemed to say. And when I once again greet the Sun, I want to look beautiful. Meters read, the light was once again extinguished. A breath of wind accompanied your intrepid meter reader back up the creaking steps. Perhaps one day...

April Showers

Lend a hand

Wandering through the basement of an apartment building - looking for meters of course - I came across what appeared to be a barrier made of wooden slats.  What purpose this barrier served I knew not, though curiously enough there was a square opening about waist high that pierced through its center.  At the lip of this opening leaned a ramp, which descended at a lazy incline away from the barrier until it reached the damp concrete floor below.  On its own, this sight would hardly seem out of the ordinary, but as evidenced by the picture above, there was much more to be seen.  Indeed,  there in the opening rested a pair of gloves, positioned in such a way that they seemed to be beckoning something forward - something perhaps...unseen.  Ah! the mysteries inherent to meter reading never cease to amaze!

Babies in basement

 

While looking through a basement, I came across a rather macabre sight...hundreds of porcelain baby heads arranged on counter top, each in a rather bizarre fashion.  Startled as I was I regained my composure, for I soon remembered my commitment to documenting the seedy underbelly of society that exists the world below.  What use these lifeless forms had could scarcely be seen, whether they were a sacrifice to a Neo-Pagan deity or perhaps some crude way to mimic the act reproduction itself, it was impossible to tell.  Wishing to avoid retribution from the master of the house for snapping this photo, I hastily made my escape.

It's a chair under a box