regulators

there's an age that you reach where your some of your artistic tastes match your parents. and that ain't too bad. gotta admit that there are some mature pieces that you couldn't fully appreciate when you were fillin' in your peach fuzz with a sharpie. i gotta tip my hat for keepin' me informed about mr. blades...

however, there are artistic choices that you make as an adult that even your parents prove their weight in cool. a david cassidy collection? even my parents would've chased me outta hill valley.

san juan, puerto rico, 2009

mr. mark and steely dan. don't hurt him.

crossroads

where's the place you can say you've seen heaven? i mean, you can't be all that cynical...there's gotta be a spot that just made sense to you. the andean crests of south america? the utopian environment of tibet? the hometown bbq's of your youth?

i've had about two dozen moments in my life that i can say i've felt real peace. i keep searchin' and there's so much that gives me a real passivity here on earth. i go back to a moment i witnessed a year ago. my stepfather was bein' teased by my family. he was surrounded by his wife, stepchildren, and grandkids. playin' with the grandkids a bit, they went runnin' around and started screamin'. my mom shot a sarcastic note to everyone, "probably can't wait to get some peace when you get up to heaven." we laughed and the moment passed. my stepfather smiled and quietly nodded. he spoke to himself while lookin' at his grandkids and i believe i was the only one that heard these words expressed so calmly, "no need. i'm already there."

enough to make a brother weep, right? i started thinkin' about my moments and sometimes find myself watchin' a three's company rerun, don knotts doin' his thing. and there i go. "no need. i'm already there."

mendoza, argentina, 2006

mr. mark didn't cry just there. it's mad dusty in here, yo. that's all.

paparazzi

there are some times in life when you just wish cameras hadn't been invented.

chapel hill, nc, 2009

mr. mark's nightmare periodical would be called "scarred" and it would have multiple pictures of early teen acne.

faces

we hear about opposites attracting. we hear about similarities attracting. what happens when partners physically look alike? i saw this one couple recently that looked like brother and sister. i would've figured they were until i saw their hands in eachothers back pockets grabbing a little muffin squeeze. different strokes, but if you're looking for intimacy that is a mirror reflection, isn't it cheaper buy yourself a shish taouk, say some vain words, and grab your knob at home? oh, mr. mark, who are you to comment on love? but, it just bothers me, yo. like in this creepy, angelina jolie way. did we all forget about that, by the way? she looked like she was nailin' her brother for awhile and then had her boobies all up in billy bob's mittens. we're forgettin' some weird things about her, peoples...

don't call me out on jealousy either. i'd freely admit if i had the likes for ms. aj. now, ms. katheryn winslet. that's one brit i'd throw a shot in even if it was in the family.

damn, yo. i've said too much again.

la paz, bolivia, 2006

mr. mark would never like to be invited to the house of yes.

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.

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.

is it because i'm black?

what's the craziest thing that's happened on road trips with your homies? when takin' them there seem to be two things that always occur- a recurring joke and a particularly ugly experience. my colombian parcero, mr. paez, and i have had quite a few but only one that was combined. went to go visit some friends in a hostel in cusco with some gringo buddies. walked up to the front and the guard says "you two in. those two, no," pointing to us.
"why not those two?" our blonde gringo friend asked.
"no peruvians allowed."
we laughed a "this racism is killing me" chuckle.
"first, these two ain't peruvian. second, you're peruvian."
"house rules."
unbelievable. i've encountered prejudice but never for somethin' that i ain't. maybe i should've grown a few inches. no sweat off my back, just realized that uncle tom's cabin exists everywhere and we found one in south america.

i also split my lip on mr. paez's skull when he got punched by a gypsy in chile. another long story. maybe they thought we were irish.

isla del sol, bolivia, 2006

mr. mark allows everyone into his establishment except for storm troopers.

Episode 3- Father, Figure

Hip Hop From Mom's Basment- Father, Figure from Mr. Mark on Vimeo.

gettin' old's a beach.

flava in ya ear

if you had your name attached to somethin', what would it be? my instinct would say a school, just to be associated with growth and knowledge. but, what if kids are failin' and there are mad school shootings at the "mr. mark academy of knowledge and knowingness in all life's skillz and battledoms?" i'd feel pretty low. i'm thinkin' a mr. mark spice would work. the hint of it might make a dish better, and if it doesn't, one can blame the dish itself or say "there's a little too much mr. mark." i think i can live with that.

la paz, bolivia, 2006

mr. mark tastes a bit like taragon, but mostly cinammon.

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.

always comin' back home to you

you gotta give props to where you're from. you look around close enough and you gonna find somethin' that someone else admires. even if it's the biggest target store.

word up otsego, minnesota. damn, y'all got everything there. mall of america. lakes. prince.

washington, dc, 1994

mr. mark counters with black people, headline ready interns, and a label hatin' punk rock outfit that charged less than a hamilton for rawness. doncha know, son.

que eso

you can tell a lot about a country by their tourist industry. where in da world are they directin' people to travel? now, there are many reasons to love canada. but if the superbowl existed up there, you'd get cats comin' off the field and being asked what they're gonna do now that they won. betcha bottom dollar that disneyworld ain't gonna be on that list. in a heavy québécois accent, famed quarterback "ma" boucher would yell, "i'm going to cuba" followed by images of nfl players sugar canin' and rummin' it up revolutionary style. i love my northern neighbors for givin' me that fantasy.

or maybe i'm just jealous 'cause i'm not allowed to get my butt on the big isle south of disneyworld. you a punk, uncle sam.

montreal, quebec, 2000

mr. mark is being forced into a family vacation at mt. rushmore this year. he plans on ruining it by sulking.

braggin' writes

"i got stabbed in chile and all i got was this lousy medical bill." i guess it's kinda better than bleeding to death. i shake my head at the fact the $30 gets you an emergency room visit, a tetanus shot, consultations, and minor surgery in south america while $30 barely pays for the parking garage in a northamerican er while you interminably wait clinging to life. hoodz come in different cloaks, yo. some wear hoodies and others wear a smile and a name tag that says "william mcguire." think about it and ask, who's really gettin' that knife in deeper?

bitter? yeah, a little bit, mothafucker...

santiago de chile, 2005

mr. mark says the word "aetna" whenever he's cutting a steak.

Episode 2- Ethnic Cleansing

Hip Hop From Mom's Basement- Ethnic Cleansing from Mr. Mark on Vimeo.

When did we start using food analogies, brother?

microphone friend

it's so easy to convince kids to do anything. it's called bargaining, yo.

copacabana, bolivia, 2006

mr. mark trades garbage pail kids to get his car washed.

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.

the rep grows bigga

what would the romans have done if they had digital cameras? what about genghis khan? leif ericson? what kind of documentation would we have had? age automatically adds something. the vintage pix are all about "crew stylin'." ain't even tryin', just doin'. even when we try to get a rep with the photographic image it can't mess with the posse effect of stone faces and sepia from years back. but who knows, maybe the romans would've inundated us with thousands of pix of them celebrating with their girlfriends over martinis and "oh god...yeah...that one where marci fell down...and oh yeah, the one where we're all in the picture clinking our glasses...and the ones where we're dancing because 'livin' on a prayer' came on"...without even the common decency to edit them before putting them on facebook. fucking romans, yo.

while this pic may not be in my lifetime, fella in the middle was. spawned me in '79 and thank god there ain't no "stylin'" pix of that, son.

puerto rico, 1950

for once, mr. mark would like to be invited to have martinis.

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.

i like big thighs and i cannot lies

gorditas, period. estilo, period. let the skinny gals deal "with."

big mamas, you give us men the real hugs we need.

bogotá, colombia, 2006

mr. mark believes you can hear the ocean between big bosoms.