Episode 11- Honest

Hip Hop From Mom's Basment- Honest from Mr. Mark on Vimeo.

as jim morrison whispered to martin sheen at the beginning of apocalypse now...

"gotta learn to live with-"

did they know what they were doing? it's amazin' how infallible they seem to us when we're young. but as you live and deal with regrets and an amazin' ability to still fuck things up at a post-adolescent age, you realize that those two were just mortals. they made mistakes too. they had poor wardrobe choices. they tripped down stairs. they ran over you with a bike at the age of five and decided to get drunk on christmas eve and forget to put presents downstairs. and for all of you, there remains that one consistent bond- the scapegoat that is a sibling. just as your angelic habits would never allow you to do something, it was always your poor sibling who would pee in the closet 'cause they were too lazy to walk to the bathroom at night. and just as your parents were too immortal to ever wrong, it was your poor sibling who gave you salmonella with undercooked chicken for christmas.

as for the "only child's" and their parents, i hope you all had that imaginary friend. i really do.

nyc, 1975

mr. mark still blames siblings for not becoming a doctor.

Episode 10- Konkrete Soul

Hip Hop From Mom's Basement- Konkrete Soul from Mr. Mark on Vimeo.

ahhh, the voices...

Episode 9- Crossin' Lines

Hip Hop From Mom's Basement- Crossing Lines from Mr. Mark on Vimeo.

if my train goes off the track, pick it up, pick it up, pick it up?

work

sometimes it's dangerous to dance in clubs because you risk bumpin' into the dj's tables and fuckin' up the music. people scoff, but that's like throwing your coffee on a pilot's central console, kicking a ladder while your roofer is clearin' your gutters, or cancellin' george hamilton's tannin' apointment...which might be the most damaging to the eye.

brooklyn, ny, 2003

mr. mark doesn't dance near dj's or sundown towns.

reflections

how often are you told you look or are like this person that your friend knows? i don't know how to take it either. they could be talkin' about this guy from their high school that they used to call "duck boy" who would never change his socks. i don't think we'd want that. you have the right to investigate these things. if someone is willin' to make that claim, then they have to be willin' to show proof. if you're not satisfied with the results, then you can ask them to get their life together because they're projectin' their negative image onto you.

just don't say it in front of duck boy. he'll cry into his socks and that moisture is jus' gonna exarcerbate things.

boston, ma, 1998

mr. mark thinks you do look like an angel though.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

protect ya neck

after 30 years of life, i haven't broken a bone. and i don't know if that's somethin' to be celebrated or criticized. i mean, a broken bone really says somethin' about your character and your past. you adventured. you played sports. you hopped fences when you weren't supposed to. a broken bone doesn't happen when you're safe, or when you play life vicariously. a broken bone doesn't happen when you aim for high score in altered beast or when you think things through during an argument rather than punch a brick wall. a broken bone means you obey traffic laws, you don't ride a bike in the city, and you pay your dues on time. a broken bone prevents you from repeating certain mistakes 'cause a broken bone is a life lesson.

but it looks like it hurts too much, yo.

san francisco, ca, 1998

mr. mark does get shin splints though.

the illest

they say that physical sickness can be cured by your mental capabilities. isn't that wild, dog? we can fix ourselves. now, i don't know that i'd try that with a 9mm chest wound, but a sniffle and some rawness in the throat might be countered with positive thoughts and some optimism. sometimes, we need an extra hand there. i'd keep the people in your life that can do that. even if you have to call a 7-year-old to give your stamina a boost in the midst of a flu like onset or heartbreak.

kids are wise or somethin'. maybe they're ghosts.

washington, dc, 2007

mr. mark saves his co-pay 'cause his niece has got mad jungian skillz.

da writing's on da wall

if walls were more constructive, then they'd really talk. it's up to us to give them their voices. inebriation and urination often help with that. but next time, take some quick thought and add the guidance to that pub bathroom wall that we all need in those careless moments-

"don't cheat on your spouse."

"call a cab tonight."

"she has a penis."

quince orchard library, md, 2009

mr. mark puts the words up to "you shook me all night long" on pub walls since no one can seem to remember them.

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.

jus' like music

there's a pretty safe alternative to infidelity. for me, it's music. it answers many of the same needs of needin' to place your pee hole in or on a pee hole or poop hole. a new track makes gets you obsessed. you dream of it, you listen to it over and over, you have a love affair. while the initial thrill may run away, you'll always love that one track. and then, you can safely find another that you sweat and pine over without hurtin' anyone's feelings. music allows you to have a harem and i suggest this healthy alternative, brothers and sisters.

unless, you have a member of your harem who has deeply embarrassed you in the past. kind of like a fling on a drunken binge that you hope no one ever finds out about. because that one evening on the boardwalk brings back memories of rayon shirts, oversized girbaud jeans, and smooth jazz covers of shitty color me badd songs.

you know what? just don't drink and be on the prowl anywhere on the eastern shore. let's start with that, dog.

ocean city, md, 1992

mr. mark hopes to never wake up with acid washed anything in the bed.

a song about a friend

nowadays, how do you know who's got your back? it's a rough world out there. who's gonna be the one holdin' your hand when you roll over yet another charming relationship? help get you through weight loss strategies? tell you it's gonna be ok after you pee all over your pants while on a first date to see "when we were kings" and your date is standing outside the bathroom waiting for you and it was really just an accident...just an accident, for real?
we had the mixtape, didn't we? you know that meant a lot. it told you who wanted you in their life for whatever reason. best friends would trade the "hypeness mixes" relaying to the other "when i put toad the wet sprocket next to ned's atomic dustbin it reminds me of the wonderful times we have hitting that glass pipe in your garage." the "i'm into you mix" is a fave, so much time and effort and you really know how well or poorly the bedroom sessions will go based on how many unironic tears for fears, roxette, or broadway ballad entries there are (maybe she's an eastern european drama major?). there are many more, but i liked the "rawness mix." while it shares some qualities with the "hypeness mix," its real goal is to say "when we get into some shit, this'll be playin' while i'm crackin' pool sticks off some skulls." don't know if that ever happened, but when compton's most wanted is on the playlist, you know you got someone down for life.

what's the equivalent today? sharin' a bank account with a loved one doesn't really seem to have the same effect. you don't really find "stoned is the way of the walk" baby bibs on gymboree registries. i'm reachin' out to the young people to give your peers some documentation of your love. make it official with a soundtrack to that person. it gets confusin' later on when you find yourself readin' into the potential soundtrack ellicited from an olive garden gift certificate.

winston-salem, north carolina, 1993

mr. mark would rather a chi chi's gift certificate is all he's sayin'.

x clan

there's always some way of upping the game with your peers. back in high school it was all about a bit of shading on certain parts of your body. it claims the "what happened last night" label, and dammit if you didn't work to get your due. if you walked into school with dark bags under your eyes, scratches or dirt on your skin, or maybe, just maybe a bluish purplish lip stain on your neck...you got some respect. but if you were really lucky, you walked into school with a black mark or "x" on your right hand telling everyone that you are a nocturnal animal and the city is your bitch. and since most teens will give you the benefit of the doubt, you don't have to make up an alternative to the bare truth- spending the evening seeing amy grant with your grandparents. for the third time. in one year.

i miss the simple power of black ink. student loans, credit card payments, and mortgages don't really have the same effect on peers. ya feel mee?

washington, d.c., 1996

mr. mark's superhero power would involve a black rubber stamp.

treat 'em right

got beef? haven't had too much in my life, but there were some close calls. first real nasty one was in sixth grade. shakina was new to the school and mouthy as a lopez. got in my face and started making fun of my shoes (which she had a right to, since they were really red and had velcro). she walked away, but not far enough to miss "bitch" slip out of my mouth. oops. kinda the wrong thing to do. ms. mouthy had some fists and a few older brothers who were two steps shy of juvie. teachers got us into our class before heads started ringing and i didn't get too far before i heard "my brothers and i are gonna fuck you up after school." oops, again. made it to my bus without being seen and kept a low profile for awhile. when i finally ran into shakina at school, she offered me some gum and asked if was gonna hang out with everybody at the party that weekend. oops? no, she meant it. i don't know what to take from this, happiness or sadness? happy that she saw the real me and showed me respect for standing up for myself or the fact that that "bitch" was just a long line of labels which she would accept for the rest of her life. wonder where she is now. i'd let her know i just didn't know how to tell her she was pretty.

i'd call her "lady" if i ever saw her again.

cabin john middle school, 1991

mr. mark thinks velcro and sunny d could stop world wars.