rap is outta control

every underground movement gets corporate sponsorship at some point. years and years ago, a small group of guerillas worked the appalachian mountains tryin' to gain momentum for their suffrage ideals. their tactics were mad sincere, comin' into towns with baked goods, holdin' town hall meetings, tryin' to get rights for all in the early days of this land. their m.o. also consisted of them livin' and organizin' in trees (literally). authorities would find hollowed out redwoods and oaks that fit small families. early corporate america caught wind of this sensation and approached the growing group with money and fame. sadly, the suffrage movement didn't last, but the kebler elves did. sad to see hip hop taste just as sweet these days.

true story. howard zinn told me that. well, he goes by howie zinfandel and cuts hair out of his garage.

chapel hill, north carolina, 2009

mr. mark would like to give props to the lovely ms. fearer for use of her digi and her handlin' of zip files. no euphemisms attached. holla.

original gangsta

having trouble with focus in your life? ask yourself...if you were to go to jail for a crime, what would it be? it might be the best way to figure out what you really care about. educational reformation in america? aids research in sub saharan africa? defending people you love? shit, maybe it's just vidal sassoon that you're all about, dog.

i probably would've died for hip hop back in tha day. but ever since ice cube started the family film circuit, somethin' tells me it's takin' care of itself. you ask me today and it's hard to answer. they don't mess around in jail. did you see that movie shawshank redemption? prisoners are mad sexual predators, yo.

darnestown, md, 1991

mr. mark would like to say he's passionate about the people he loves enough to die for them. shit, cocksucker, tits.

rollin' with kids and play

what do you do with your saturdays now? we were all linked with the cereal and cartoon explosion up until a certain point. I quit around the time kid 'n play got into it and i found out that cap'n crunch wasn't a real cap'n (hint- cap'n is spelled capitano). hormonal time was malltime and lazy saturdays dancing in front of a video camera. the 20's were for sleeping off hangovers and then chasin' 'em again later that night. where are we at now? yard work? shopping at ikea? ny times crosswords and npr?

i'm thinkin' we all need to revisit our saturdays with cartoons and video camera dancin'. as adults, our weekends should sound like paul simon, but that doesn't mean you can't get down to animated interpretations of "still crazy after all these years." god, i love that song.

get out that camera and dance, son.

potomac, md, 1991 & 1995

mr. mark would like to know where he should plan on getting a new chaise next saturday.

brooklyn zoo

mama don't let your babies grow up to be b-boys...

brooklyn, ny, 2003

mr. mark also recommends limited candle use during drunken house parties.

up north trip down memory lane

how many of your childhood idols have you seen on america's most wanted? i guess it's the street cred alternative to a "the more you know" psa.

rockville, md, 1992

mr. mark sends care packages to all his idols locked in the belly of the beast. they can trade the licorice for cigarettes if needed.

Episode 1- In the Beginning...

Hip Hop From Mom's Basement- In the Beginning from Mr. Mark on Vimeo.

Where do the skeletons start...?

hip hop from mom's basement

life is 3% luck, 45% showing up, and 52% managerial. movement is caused when you get up and show your face. the rest falls in when you do the paper work. wonder why you still see shitty movies, watch bad television, and hear wack music? how many bosses have you had that you'd consider "bright?" 90% of people can't function with the 97% of effort that's needed. especially artists, yo. what a sensitive bunch. suckas can work a canvas, but most turn jello when they have to represent themselves, pay a bill, or leave for sunlight. that's why we're stuck with business mindedness in life, yo. and a lot of the good stuff will stay underground until artists can find a way to leave their basement and say "i am....oh, god i'm not ready for this." maybe just the "i am" part. don't worry, that was just the postman. it's gonna be alright, dog.
after saying all of this, there are times when the art should stay in the basement. rather, it should die there.

potomac, md, 1994

daisy fuentes? mr. mark is deeply ashamed. deeply.

down with the king

i'm still not over this. we shared the same birthday too. he seemed like a sweet guy and shit.

death is a lumbering beast, yo.  he looks like a toupée.

village voice, 2002

mr. mark is available as a backup, dmc & run. just puttin' that out there.

make 'em say hug

'cause every thug needs a no limit shoulder to cry on.

the source, 1999

crosstown beef is the basis of hip hop. let's move towards local greens in the millennium, y'all.