From the January 9 New Yorker

Fresh out of Columbia’s M.F.A. program, Jang is a young photographer whose history of gang activity (some of it literally inscribed on his body) provides his most potent material. For this series of dramatically shadowed color closeups, he created patterns of black dots on the nape of his neck, inner wrist, and other areas of bare, burnished flesh with drops of hot sealing wax.

I read this passage in the listings and thought to myself, “Sealing? Really?” Not ceiling? Googling this, apparently I’m not the only person confused by early-in-life readings of Puff the Magic Dragon.

And then there’s this, unrelated, later in the issue:

Two bit players in Shakespeare’s Hamlet argue about duality, in dialogues composed of short lines that turn in on themselves sinking into solipsism. Stoppard’s characters do not live so much as imagne what life could be, if it adhered to their visions. His dramatizations take us on a guided tour of the life of the mind, with all its blind spots, loves, and delusions, as it is shaped by the uncontrollable forces of history.

When the quote gods smile upon you

From a Saturday Post story about the Colts leaving Baltimore:

“I remember when they moved I was home watching the O’s and they were packing up from spring training,” said Donovan, 81, who has lived in Baltimore since becoming a Colt in 1953. “Then I switched the channel and they showed the snow and the moving vans and I said, ‘Christ, I must have drank too much beer. There’s no snow in Florida. What the hell is going on?’ But I could kind of see it coming. The team was really lousy and there were 16,000 people in Memorial Stadium. Some people said it was a tragedy, but that’s no tragedy. Children dying of cancer is a tragedy.”

Up and down with the radio

On Friday on the radio, I hear Jackson Browne’s Somebody’s Baby. On Saturday on the radio, I hear Montell Jordan’s This Is How We Do It. On Sunday I do not drive. Not for religious reasons or anything, just didn’t need to drive anywhere. On Monday I hear the song Will Smith sampled for Men in Black. But not the song itself, which isn’t so interesting to me. But then on Tuesday I hear Sexyback mashed up with Marvin Gaye’s Got to Give It Up. In days since I can’t find it online anywhere.