peaceful journey

i finally figured out that kids are a way of acceptin' death. i mean, it's the one way to ensure your legacy and feel like you left somethin' behind. and there's an ethereal quality in knowin' that.

i would, however, have my kids sign contracts to ensure that they don't fuck up my legacy. like, no branch davidian style theatrics, no franchises developed that sell burgers, yogurt, or tacos that have zany spanglish names, and absolutely no pictures of them in tevas or birkenstocks. unless i have jesus as a child. and as a latin, that may be a possibility.

brooklyn, ny, 2003

mr. mark would like to talk to bruni about what disco smelled like.

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.

you can't stop the prophet

the guy could be blue. nobody knows fo sho. he could also be double headed with no body. i ain't puttin' anything past him. maybe he just floats. jc seems like a pretty interestin' joe.

maybe they ran out of blonde paint.

chile, 2006

mr. mark's favorite color is blue. how coincidental and shit.

basic instructions before leaving earth

what kind of legacy do you want to leave? perhaps the meaning of life revolves around that pursuit. we all want to remembered for somethin'. here's your moment, jeff.

washington post, 2007

mr. mark still cries when he watches the last scene of ikiru.