aaron hall says...

who'd be your guidance giva? we get scared about askin' for it, don't we? actually, we talk ourselves out of everythin' sumtimes. that fear grabs a hold and before you know it, you've convinced yourself that you're gonna stay in the banking game, you ain't gonna take that long-awaited trip to tonga, and you won't find a way to meet get a date with the ice queen at work. but surprises await are there to curb them fears.

my southern french ami, antoine, went to cannes years back. young filmmaker that he was inspired to receive guidance from anyone who would listen. met tim roth at the screening for the film he directed, the war zone. swallowed up that fear and asked mr. roth if he had time to talk with an aspiring artist. mr. roth took mon ami out to lunch the next day and provided guidance and a hollywood tab to an unforgettable lunch.

give yourself some huevos, people. time to make your life yours.

esquire, 1994

mr. mark will never talk himself out of buying that cardigan again. it was the lead singer and it was for charity.

mistadobalina

the character of a city is really about the characters within it, right? i wonder who's the local flavor for oslo? who gets people shakin' their heads in san salvador? who rocks the streets of addis ababa spoutin' duran duran lyrics for cash?

more importantly, what old coot lived in prehistoric times to become the town crazy when everyone around him was bashin' heads, rapin', and shittin' themselves?

oh yeah, he was standin' upright. duh.

washington post, 2008

mr. mark doesn't have enough lyrical memory to be mr. marky mark in your town.

be true to yaself

one of the saddest things i see is when older guys and gals occupy the social scene with looks that reflect what the opposite sex found attractive when they were 13. it's funny, but a lot of men neglect to realize that women aren't as interested in six packs, long hair, and a laissez-faire attitude towards the principals of the world when they've dated the lot and realized how much it actually makes them think you're ridin' the short bus. loads of men forget that most women are pretty fuckin' smart and will go for sumthin' that resembles real attraction (intelligence, wit, talent, just a damn good man). the only similar thing that women want from their 13 or 31-year-old man is confidence. and when you're rockin' that long hair, prepubescent legs (shaved), and the attitude of a ne'er do well...your confidence is locked for sho...in that you're 13 in the body of a 31-year-old.

be yourself, dog. you as a 13-year-old was charming. now you just look like a tool. get off that short bus, yo.

the source, 1992

mr. mark does have one rayon shirt left in the closet, hon.

labels

lists. what's the hardest one you'd have to make? i'm thinkin' it's more of a 20th century invention. when you used to have a life span of 32 years, you didn't really concern yourself with figurin' out what the best in life could be. you shoveled coal when you were 8, married the last mcdougal sister when you were 17, and pushed out a few puppies before you even knew how to categorize what form of plague you'd be least excited of dying from.

nowadays, we can't stop ourselves from creatin' desert island musts, when really in the face of survival, you ain't gonna be concentratin' on which frank zappa album you'd best. our lives are pretty cushy, yo.

i do have to say that the long goodbye, for a few dollars more, and his girl friday are kinda prime picks after a long day of shovelin' minerals. good lookin' out, quentin.

unknown, 1994

mr. mark should be on your top five list.

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.

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.

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.

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.

come an' get your soul fooood

they say that your life flashes before your eyes before you die. i wonder if you revisit what led up to your death. if you're gunned down on the block, do you see all the things that led to your life as a crack dealer? if you die of respiratory problems, do you analyze the fumes in the factory that you worked in for 43 years? if you have a heart attack at the age of 33, and 473 pounds, do you revisit those 3 three gallons of coke, the 10 strips of bacon, and the various pounds of fried potatoes, dough, and red meat that you ate daily? if food is comfort, do you neglect to blame it for your death?

i guess if you're eating a hamburger on krispy kreme buns for breakfast your brain probably isn't working anyway.

sioux falls, sd, 2006

mr. mark wonders if cannibals view food as comfort.

let me ride

if you were 16 again, what kind of ride would you want? would you have the same mindset of your younger self with a bigger budget, or would you opt for somethin' more in tune with your life now? me, i wanted a hooptie when i was 16. couldn't have convinced me of anything fresher. today, i might opt for a volvo for safety concerns or a hybrid. i'm thinkin' that the lighter gas mileage could really be a more positive way of using my carbon footprint and the price of upkeep and insurance would save a lot in the long run.

duhhh...words just came out that done sound like ma mom. damn, son...we be agein'.

details, 1994

is there anyway mr. mark coud put hydraulics on swiss manufacturing?

...if you are what you say you are...

yo, imagine you were someone's hero. would you really want them to see what you do at home? i mean, it's hard enough tryin' to meet people's expectations. i dunno that i wanna mess that up with images of clippin' toenails with a can opener, watchin' reruns of "designing women," and scroungin' up pennies to buy a copy of men's health just to put that cologne sample on my person to impress the indian bank teller named sheri when i go in and ask for two fives and four ones in exchange for my obscene collection of copper lincolns.

at least, that's more exciting than the alternative...sittin' here writin' an entry about being a hero.
damn, i still wish i was british.

washington post, 1994

mr. mark imagines ll cool j just eats pink cookies in a plastic bag at home.

afro connections at a hi 5

'member how people used to say "jewfro?" that was funny, never. keep the hair. drop the jokes. they're tired.

9021fro isn't bad though. i mean, thfrough.

esquire, 1994

mr. mark would also like to ban snoop from being snoop for awhile. you're tired, son.

burn, hollywood, burn

don't know if i can say it much better than this. just stopped trusting morgan freeman being more than a conduit for white guilt in any movie i see him in. let a brother figure out some brother shit in a movie, yo.

montreal mirror, 2000

now if you need a latin to assuage your guilt, mr. mark is available for that. "i make jou feel so goood in jour heart, señor," he says while dusting off his sombrero.

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.

'96 année érotique

foreign exchange students. not sure if i need to apologize for this, but they were the first i went after. actually, all the otha grrrls was first, until i realized that it's hard to turn someone down when you don't speak the language. when my muscle flexing didn't translate, i went to the cine. we was mad close to a french invasion in the 90's. and for real, would that have been a bad thing?
julie delpy was girl next door, when the girl next door was that foreign exchange student who still knew more about what to do in town, and was a constant source of imported gauloises.
emmauelle béart. angelina jolie? get the fuck outta here. yo, béart was doing it before you, grrrl. better lips and better pathos. jolie's the type of woman who sleeps with eye wraparounds, forcibly on her back, while she shoos brad away for disturbing the type of sleep prescribed by her inside source at W magazine for removing "unwanted streesful lines caused by bad spiritosis." béart squirms and screams in her sleep, waking up to have a cigarette, saying "fuck, that was goood."
finally, still jonesin' to see ms. deneuve get the props that she deserves stateside, especially after catching her do the lesbian bit in les voleurs in '96. keep agin' mama. still goin' strong givin' pride to older women, if only they'd give her the juice she deserves...

esquire, '96

mr. mark hopes charlotte gainsbourg responds to his fan mail at some point.

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.

make the music wit' yo' mouth

these boy bands come and go.  but i'm waiting for the real research to go into these things.  yo, with the right minds we can investigate social norms and shit.  in 50 years maybe we'll realize that women have a hard time in adult relationships because they fantasized so much about gay men in their youth.  

entertainment weekly, 1999

mr. mark never got a callback.  

i used to love h.i.m.

mr. ford was once han solo.  christopher walken was considered for the role.  you do not see christopher walken in mexican bars with midwestern tourists and central american travel agents.  he drinks his coronas in the dark.

mr. ford, you've ruined my nostalgia.  take your age with grace, dog.

ny post, 2004

mr. mark no longer believes that indy can crack a whip.