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Area resident Joe Markson ’10 displayed his tattoos for all to see at an off-campus get-together last Friday. Running a single finger down and across what he calls his “ink” and striking a pose against the wall that one partygoer would later describe as “aggressively casual,” Markson proceeded to explain to anyone who would listen the circumstances and story behind each image. Those present at the gathering on John Street were hoping for a quiet, adult evening among friends, perhaps with a bottle of wine and some world music on vinyl. But that was before Markson’s arrival, upon which he reportedly jumped on a table and urged attendants to “get the fuck out of their seats.”
Markson, uninvited, gives contradictory stories as to just how he ended up at the event, first maintaining that he “heard it through the grapevine,” next that he “felt it in the ether,” finally sticking to the story that he “just smelled party in the air and popped on in.” Upon graduating over 20 months ago, Markson has remained on College Hill, becoming something of a minor local celebrity and fixture at student house parties. Most familiar with his dealings agree that he’s best left ignored.
After his being ostracized for what he describes as “trying to save the party,” Markson retreated to the hallway and became indignant on being told he couldn’t smoke indoors. The deluge of unwelcome explanatory information as to his body art began when Carla Hill ’14, a close friend of the gathering’s host, misguidedly asked “Is that a tattoo?” in an attempt to disarm the palpable tension. It was indeed a tattoo, one of a neat baker’s dozen on Markson’s two arms alone. He also sports ink on his chest, back and calves — though, to Markson, tattoo is “really just a state of mind.”
“This one is a picture of the New York subway system,” he began, “because I’m from New York. Well, New York by way of Connecticut.” He went on to spend upwards of an hour painstakingly explaining each and every picture on his obviously flexed bicep.
“Did it hurt?” Hill reportedly asked when Markson finished his spiel.
“In what sense?” Markson asked.
“In the sense of being stabbed with a tattooing needle over and over again.”
“Oh. That. Yes. Yes it did.”
