love sick

ouch. that's the impression we get as we get olda and date. yum, yum is the sound that comes out of our mouth searchin' the magazines and media images feulin' our young minds into believin' that luv is around the corner with any suitor or suitress that we fancy. ain't gonna happen.

but you gotta earn those bruises on your own and that ain't sumthin' that i'd teach the young people about. you gotta realize what's important in your partners. you can get someone with a good heart to turn tricks for you in the bedroom. you can't get a good heart out of just anyone.

really, you just want someone who's gonna laugh at your jokes, smile at your foibles, and call you out in the most lovin' of ways when you get to that asshole moment. the sentence "baby i love you" is wonderful. however, when the statement "but, you're being an asshole and i'm leaving now" follows after you've been actin' a fool, that's real. and in reality, the two of you shouldn't have to tip toe in the relationship and if they can call you on your shit while givin' you strength, you gotta keep that, dog. and that ain't sumthin' you're gonna find in the pages of a magazine.

nonetheless, i'm still here for you theresa randle.

esquire, 1995

mr. mark no longer believes that angie harmon will scratch his back on a sick day.

throw your set in the air

my gang is literary, son. you step to us, you gonna get an a-m-y-t-a-n sign your way.

book clubs be adults way of claimin' yo set.

santiago de chile, 2006

mr. mark's crew will meet tomorrow to discuss gettin' all up in that salman rushdie book signing.

leaders of the new school

if i had my choice of early ed curriculum, i would come up with my coloring book of famous failures. we get told how wonderful people are and feel like we can't match up, yo. lincoln was an honest man and then became a president. benjamin franklin did a few experiments and then created a lightbulb. rob lowe just woke up pretty.
what's left out is the fact that people worked, failed, failed, and failed until they got somewhere. my man einstein spent decades on the theory of relativity. yet, my school books used to have him nailin' it out in one page. quick fix society, no wonder we're ready to give up at such an early age. teach failure as an investment strategy. don't invest in failure.

also, give kids free pumas to stop 'em from using those fuckin' wheelie shoes everywhere.

washington, dc, 2007

mr. mark would like to be your next calculator.

the cure for stagnation

what's your refrigerator door test? we all have our skepticism for our triumphs, but if you had to be your own parent and grab one great accomplishment to post on your door of life, what would it be?

that thrilling photograph you took of the perfect sunset? your two wonderful children? maybe just a highlight reel of unwittin' your neighborhood bully in 7th grade? the need for validation...it never leaves.

parents fuck with your skull, yo.

ocean city, md, 1998

mr. mark's workin' on gettin' more magnets first. uh-uh, ain't limitin' him to just one, son.

put your head out

amazing the fazes we go through in our teens- underground music...lying...vandalism...suicide attempts...

the source, 1992

mr. mark thinks parking garages are an adult way of rekindling that last option.

in my continental

the germans and hasselhoff. the french and jerry lewis. the japanese and everything. it's funny what others pick and choose for their pop culture imports. i love how the world can make you feel pride abroad for somethin' you for shame for stateside.

santiago de chile, 2005

mr. mark would like to thank morrocans for keeping dire straits alive.

the night scene

if there's a heaven, are there underground scenes up there? for some reason i picture angels to be the ultimate in gettin' the scoop. that's why they always on your shoulder whisperin' in your ear, dog.

washington post, 1997

mr. mark doesn't think you should trust any club called "angels" though.

i'm the magnificent

as a kid, it was somethin' with a kung fu grip in the backpack. as a teen, it was usually a wethered condom in the wallet. as a young adult, it was a license carrying your own home address on it. now...well, we still got them things we keep on our person to showcase who we are, whether it's true or not. keys with some euro auto emblem blazin', a few pics of your kids, that same condom. shoot, maybe that'll never stop. you end up walkin' with a cane by the time you're ready to go and we all know the kind of stroll that's called.

i carried this joint in my back pocket my senior year provin' how cool my weekends were. hopefully, nobody smelled the bluff.

washington, dc, 1997

mr. mark carries his cell phone on him. he just wishes it would ring.

just to get a rep

sometimes, the smaller the country, the harder the history looks. you got more to prove, yo. if you hit up these small countries on the pacific rim, western african nations, or anywhere that's fought for its independence in the last 200 years, you'll find some monuments celebratin' the fight and verve with grimaces and incrementally bigger testaments. in most cases, i give y'all some props. you get shadowed by the bigger forces out there. keep dustin' off your shoulder, playa.

on the other hand, no disrespect to the democratic peoples of north korea, but you gotta do somethin' about that midget you got in office, yo. talk about a complex. all them statues and paintings of the lil' guy all around your country. sucka's got it worse than a 45-year-old needle dick revvin' his corvette near a high school while blastin' peter cetera.

la paz, bolivia, 2006

mr. mark is the man who will fight for your honor.

show me a hero

if you were a superhero, what kind of superpower would you have? i don't know that i'd mess with too much responsibility. in reality, i'm thinkin' i wouldn't want to read people's minds. i'd be too bashful to be invisible, still blushing if i saw a panty line, let alone someone nekidd.

i think i'd take on the power to predict what to wear for weatherable days. or maybe that power to have a bagged lunch ready to go when i leave the house. or always having change whenever i have to park at a meter.

fighting the evils of inconvenience. that's what age gives to you, yo.

potomac, md, 1984

mr. mark would like to fly every once in awhile as long as he gets air miles for his travels.

polite meeting

i think it would be kinda nice if there were more billboards and wall art remindin' you to wash your hands and look both ways. i think cities need to act more like grandmothers. 'cause you'd never spit your gum out on your grandmother.

arica, chile, 2006

mr. mark doesn't like shellfish 'cause they give him bumps and make him look like lou gossett jr. in enemy mine.

8 steps to perfection

people talk about endin' bigotry, but it ain't like it's somethin' we can cure in one fell swoop. we all got our prejudices, and as an old teacher used to say about racism in the states "if there weren't black people, we would invent them." if we could just get over our insecurities, disavow our brutal sense of competition, and allow enough resources for everyone, then maybe, just maybe, we wouldn't scapegoat so many to make ourselves feel betta.

but then again, albinos are pretty fuckin' weird lookin'.

potomac, md, 1988

mr. mark is a "four eyes" and he stands proud as long as there isn't a high pollen count in the air.

Episode 5- Movies & Boobies

Hip Hop From Mom's Basement- Movies & Boobies from Mr. Mark on Vimeo.

you can't spell mammaries without mama.

orange pineapple juice

what is nostalgia? was the past really a better time or is it safer to bet on something that can't change? maybe we just need a few things that won't alter in our lives. so much does and it'd be nice to have somethin' be consistent. maybe that's why dick clark won't die. that's nice of him.

st. laurent, qc, 2006

mr. mark misses michael j. fox sitting still.

crewz pop

in tribal life, are there subcultures that scoff at the actions of the majority? is there a small group of outsiders in the amahuaca tribe sittin' on the sides, watchin' a tribal feast, and saying somethin' like "no wonder the world hates us?"

friendsville, md, 1997

mr. mark likes the idea of living in trees. that's all.

Episode 4- Paternity Testin'

Hip Hop From Mom's Basement- Paternity Testin' from Mr. Mark on Vimeo.

Mr. Mark do it better than Povich.

who got the props?

i'd have to agree but would change the wording. when you give props they should act as an ego boost. but you shouldn't go overboard. be careful because too much accoladin' causes blindness. i mean, look at al pacino these days. poor guy can't read the shit that's handed to him. and we get stuck with the results.

ridgely, md, 2007

mr. mark usually gives respect with a hug and a mirror. that way they know he loves 'em even when they got sleep in their eye.

castles made uv sand

what would it be- mountains or beach? the masculine side of me thinks tha mountains are top. right? i get to chop wood, grow a beard, and make fire when i'm all shivery from them winds. the feminine side of me thinks tha beach. i done get my vanity fulfilled with a cocoa butter tan, lose weight off of sweat and a sedated appetite (that heat works wonders), and hear a poetic thrill in listenin' to waves crash in.

the youthful side of me still thinks tha clouds are a possibility. at least that's what lando calrissian done taught me.

luquillo, puerto rico, 2000

mr. mark is a little confused after writin' down that name for the first time...was lando calrissian armenian?

no nose job

if your likeness had to used for a sign or mannequin, what little detail would give it away? i'm thinkin' that it's not likely that tears would be used for a municipality crossing sign. i'd prefer it if you don't use the arching eyebrows. maybe not the receding hairline. hmmm...i don't know about the knock knees either. when it comes to self-image, what are we proud to represent?

ahhh, the adam's apple, a quality tan, and a square jaw. start their and we'll work our way to the average endowment.

panama city, panama, 2009

mr. mark thinks his skeletal tissue is probably pretty outstanding as well.

who am i?

do we ever stop wanting to be someone else as we age? i would say that we get mad comfortable in our shells as we mature. you get to know yourself and understand your qualities. really, what makes you unique. and that's beautiful.

but then you find yourself lookin' at that older guy sittin' next to you at ben & jerry's with a much younger woman, thinkin' "that can't be his daughter." and it can't, dog, 'cause no father stares at his daughter lickin' an ice cream cone like that. and that just depresses me.

get a grip. treat that midlife crisis in your 20's, kid.

the source, 1992

mr. mark thinks cellulite is becoming, forgotten milfies.

who? me?

maybe comedy is the ultimate cultural exchange. laughter goes a long way in sharin' our experiences and findin' a path towards understandin'. even if that laughter is stemmin' from your observations of crowd and performer-

"you white folks are out of your fucking mind."

pittsburgh, pa, 1998

mr. mark only lets you pull his finger for a laugh. a pez candy will pop out.

who me?

what's the great cultural exchange? some say a trip to the third world will benefit both you and the occupants. i don't think you need to go that far. i think just as much can be said with a trip to a southern juke joint or a pilgrimmage to a black comedy club. i think white people need to get over their fear of findin' out the truth about how they do things-

"white people read a blog like this, 'wow, this is interesting. reading is just such a thrill.'" (push up fake glasses, wait for laughs)

it's called insight, y'all.

laurel, md, 1996

mr. mark's white half listens to burt bacharach records after writing his blog entries. his brown side hums to celia cruz.