The words, the ink, the newsprint

Do you know when I don't mind staining my hands black with inky residue? When I'm reading the New York Times. Or really, I just have to be touching the New York Times, that hallowed publication of journalistic perfection.

This Sunday, my amazing journalism school classmate who now works at the world's best newspaper -- seriously, he works there, as in, his paycheck comes from the New York Times Co. -- took me on a tour of the NYT building. I think the event stroked his ego a bit; I was in reporter's ecstasy the entire time, and he didn't miss it.

Here's the multiple-level newsroom:

My friend, the NYT staffer, refers to the above as "pods," not cubes. These Times guys really have to be cutting edge, don't they? Surprisingly, however, there's no huge masthead in NYT font hanging anywhere above such pods. On the other hand, more than one friend who visited the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette noted it felt like the type of newsroom you see in a movie. (Throw me a bone here -- there has to be something that makes the Dem-Gaz superior to the NYT.)

You don't need to be too high up in the hierarchy to get a nameplate at your desk, which I found awesome. I've never had a nameplate anywhere I've worked. And I want one.

The dictionaries of Will Shortz!

I just want to say that as life-changing a moment as visiting the desk of the puzzlemaster himself was,  even cooler was getting to meet him when he came to the Clinton Library to play word games with his Little Rock disciples.

The works of Israeli graphic designer Noma Bar on display at GallerySeven. An interview with Bar can be found here:
New Yorker's Cartoon Lounge blog, Sept. 24, 2008