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Mark -- Family & Friends

		A place for Marks family & friends from all over the world. Male 33 years old United Kingdom Last Login: 7/7/2009

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www.myspace.com/markblanco

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General	.. In Marks own words: "Mark has been a professional magician, antiquarian book-dealer, scriptwriter, translater, rave organiser & bankers' monkey. He lives in East London with no cats."
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Status:	Single
Zodiac Sign:	Pisces

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The world will be a more boring place for you not being in it, Mark. (view more)

with all my love paulinexxx (view more)

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Mark -- Family & Friends's Friend Space (Randomized)

Mark -- Family & Friends has 78 friends.

Damian

Stolly's

amechi

teddy and pearl

karina

David

Jamie

nina

chiara

Cristina

Jimmy Casson

Paul

SELFISH C

Sue Donnim

James

M.JohnnySouthside

Jenny Blonde

joyster

emeline

robyn

241-24-7

James

Andrew

Club Dada

Cat and Lou

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Mark -- Family & Friends's Friends Comments

Displaying 25 of 47 comments ( View All | Add Comment )

nina	Dec 6 2007 9:23 AM baby, i can't beleive a year has past, i miss you xxxx
robyn	Dec 5 2007 11:07 PM dear mark
Siane	Dec 4 2007 6:03 PM Hi Emma Just read your story in Grazia magazine - it was a very brave and honest account of what you and your family have been through. I definitely hope that your family get the right result with the second inquest and that you can find peace. God Bless. Siane xX
karina	Oct 4 2007 7:33 AM Sorry but won't be able to make the inquest today due to work commitments, however, just want to show my full support in bringing this case to justice and sincerely hope truth shall come for a day! All my love and best wishes for today! I shall keep my finger's crossed! Xxx
Siane	Sep 30 2007 10:51 AM As Ive said before - all the best in bringing justice for Mark. I will show my support by adding his picture to my profile. Lots of Love Siane
robyn	Feb 28 2007 8:40 PM please please post marks poem about the cobbler. i talk about it. i remember it. but i do not have it in HIS words. i say this tonight because my shoe broke, and i am in paris on monday. surely i can find that cobbler. whether he fixes new rocks or not... whether i sit at place des vosges or not... even though i know i will go to the seine and drink a blanco for him. and later swing my bag, with a grin, down the street, because i know something that they do not know... much love to you all. xxx
Siane	Feb 15 2007 5:59 PM To Mark's Family I sent you a private message around the time of Mark's death, and am going more public this time! I wish you all the luck and success in bringing those responsible for Mark's death to justice (and Im not afraid to say Pete Doherty!!). I admire the dignified way you have handled yourself in the press - I don't think I couldve been that restrained. Good luck in raising funds for all the necessary legal proceedings. All my Love Siane xX
The George Tavern	Feb 6 2007 1:11 AM Desiderata Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story. Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time. Exercise caution in your business affairs; for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals; and everywhere life is full of heroism. Be yourself. Especially, do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass. Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be, and whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul. With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy. Max Ehrmann, Desiderata, Copyright 1952.
241-24-7	Feb 5 2007 5:07 AM the other day i dreamt you came to the warehouse. we were all so shocked and excited. we cooked a very nice meat dish , (not the cowbrains though!) and you had so many new stories and jokes. i laughed so much. i woke up feeling I had spent a day with you.thank you for cheering me up. dario x it still feels so insane to talk to you on this .
SELFISH C	Jan 10 2007 12:44 PM so the days pass..
robyn	Dec 30 2006 5:00 AM why so sad? because i was convinced we were invincible. you. xx
M.JohnnySouthside	Dec 28 2006 3:27 PM It takes a long time to write something like this. I didn't know Mark perhaps as well as I might have but he was quite literally a part of the furnishings of the greatest pub in the world and there is no doubt that contributed in no small part to its magnificence. The world has indeed been robbed of a most singular character; a master of the most bizarre of tipples, a shape thrower extrordinare, a literary connoisseur - I wish I could remember the De Quincey quote he offered once when we were pissing. But most of all he was a perveyor of joy, at his best he was at once everywhere in the barroom, a tumbling mass of good cheer, his becapped head popping up in the midst of whatever wonderfulnesses were occurring. All ways in the thick of it, always shining. And this is what is most sad; in a world where the sickening vultures of the press swoop on titbits of action and broadcast them with no feeling whatsoever of the humanity of those involved, where thay take events of such loss and sadness and bleed them of love and shit them out as footnotes in the annals of showbusiness, in a world like this, the world needs joyous spirits more than ever. And Mark was one of these, now he's gone and this is unbearably sad. Mark, we all miss you so very fucking much. Sx
SELFISH C	Dec 27 2006 11:45 PM Mark i love you so much and i still can't believe your gone, it hurts because your gone. and you where a friend because you gave a shit and i feel so gutted deep from within because i miss YOU. i remeber hearing your voice on the telephone just before you died, so soft.. so sweet. our adventures we were like holmes and watson. the days that i knew Mark Blanco will always shimmer like a dream i once had. Mark where gonna sort out this bullshit and set the record straight. fooling with a blanco i don't think so.. over and out.. Martin Tomlinson............... x
ndriver	Dec 23 2006 7:45 PM every time you walked in to the george you mayed the night, mis ya x
Oona	Dec 16 2006 9:42 PM Think where man's glory most begins and ends, And say my glory was I had such friends. W.B. Yeats
Oona	Dec 16 2006 7:46 PM ..I'm still not sure what to say. Lost for words, moi?...yes.
aimee	Dec 15 2006 1:54 AM We are having sorry business in OZ, drinking Jemesons and remembering when you were here. Thank you for showing me your London, Paris and native Spain. I will always treasure our time together. Sorry bout the unkind words in the end there, you know I always loved you peace M, love Aimee
The George Tavern	Dec 13 2006 9:05 PM ohh mark... how lonely the early shift has become i miss your booming voice your striding footsteps your obsurd requests what will it be today?-a guinness, a grolsh & lime a tooty fruity? i miss your blags for a tab your insesent djing-which drove me mad! your questions and strange remarks ohh mark how empty ive become
jonathan Pearson	Dec 13 2006 4:16 PM Party Mark by Jonathan Pearson You were the one to lift, you were the one to meet, you were the one to upset, you were the one to help. will miss you and the times we had up and downs your parties, your friends from all walks of life, your cooking, the loudest music, and your upset landlords (I met two and defended you with one very funny) will miss the unanounced visits. Last time I saw you was in october when you came visiting on your bike didnt stay too long but i gave you a book on rabbits not your usual read but you wanted it. god bless.
Jenny Blonde	Dec 12 2006 3:27 PM I'm not sure what to write here, been going through my minds for days. i still cannot believe that you are no longer with us and i won't see you in the George anymore propping up the bar or dj-ing. the first time i met you, you joked that i looked like Martina Navratilova - it made me laugh hysterically and my sister, because that was your way. You could do that, make me people laugh and smile and not take themselves too seriously. We hadn't known each other very long and the last time i saw you we did spend an amazing long weekend hanging out discussing books mainly and you spoke a lot about your family. And you were such a terrible flirt! It was fun and we did laugh a lot, and that is how i shall remember you Mark. You touched so many people's lives with your flamboyant and lively personality, you gave out such incredible energy. It just makes me so sad that it has been cut short. You had one of the most brilliant minds i think i have ever met. i will never forget you x
teddy and pearl	Dec 12 2006 8:59 AM i wish i could have known you more. you made me laugh in such a way the first and last time i saw you,i was crying,laughing,like no one ever made me laugh,,back in those grey days in london. god bless you mark.
Paul	Dec 10 2006 10:40 PM I met Mark at Cambridge and we didn’t become friends immediately, not for some time. I arrived (as he later put it) a longhair, strumming an acoustic, while the rest of the community were into crewcuts and dance music. Mark, with his immense speakers and record collection, was at the hub. I did see him now and then during those early days though. Living mainly at night during term time, I was always bumping into someone bound for his digs. Sometimes I went along. I’d invariably find him comfortably sat, engaged in some crackling repartee with a guest or two. The subject would elude me, would seem in fact to have been designed, to be being designed, to do just that... Typically, no attempt would be made to break off the chat or put me in the picture until I got up to leave. Then he would make a gag, flash his charm - and I’d end up staying for more. It’s not quite true that Mark hid his emotions. He just never lingered long enough in one place or mood for you to be able to pin them down. It seems hard now even to gauge how close I was to him, other than by the aching sympathy I feel for him. I know how much Mark wanted to live. He never let up for a minute. He was getting about as close to a beatnik as anyone since the fifties. Relentless, passionate, free. Often in trouble. We did become friends, close friends. It was around the time he discovered he could drink the college whisky freely and be billed for it only months down the track. We spent endless evenings in his room playing chess, sipping Glenmorangie, nattering, munching chunks of chorizo he’d brought back from his father’s, sampling cheese. He was a bon viveur! Lately, he’d found probably the only organic foodshop in E1. He lived off it. (At times a lot of us lived off it - thank you, Mark.) We went into business together that year. It was a funny sort of business, aimed chiefly at subsidising our nightlife - but a business all the same. And of course Mark was far too good at that kind of business for the thing to provide a mere subsidy. We took on some nights at a bar and began to print money. By the time he’d finished negotiating, there was barely enough for the staff. It was always packed. We would walk out week after week, bellies full of champagne, pockets stuffed. One day I ran into him at The Blue Boar, next to Trinity, replete with latest earnings. We’d read Tender Is The Night and we decided to play the Alphabet Game. It started with Amaretto, moved on to Bacardi, Campari, Drambuie and finished up not many hours later with a Z for Zombie. Off we trundled around the corner to our regular - where we always kept a chess set in reception. I don’t know who picked the pieces off the floor five minutes later, but it wasn’t us. We were back in The Blue Boar the next day, demanding certificates. The time came when Mark abruptly decided it was time to move on. He stopped drinking and smoking and started reading philosophy. He had about two months to go until his finals and three years’ work to get through. As far as I know he never drank another drop while at Cambridge. I missed him, but I knew there’d be more. And there was, always. Months, a whole year might go by and I wouldn’t see him or hear a word of him. Then we’d meet, spend a night talking, laughing, walking and wondering how he kept himself going at that pace, those levels - how many new and extraordinary friends he had not only picked up along his way, but become an icon for, a patron saint. Then we’d split. A few months later I’d miss him and track him down. Often, delightfully, it would be the other way round. Lately I’d begun to see him more – almost regularly. This September, I was one of a long line of strays who he hosted at his flat on Commercial Road. I was finishing a job nearby and one day I turned up with some money for him: rent. He couldn’t believe it. The same hands that had divvied up thousands of pounds in our Cambridge days were not going to accept a penny now. This was a service, this was: a charity that he took pleasure in. He made no efforts to hide it. Why, every night I’d get a call from him at work, asking when I’d be back. He’d made a bacon and broccoli risotto. There was this or that on the stove. Red or white? And as a revision to the way I had once been unable to tell whether he had the least respect for me, I now realised that these kindnesses were not even favours. It was not even personal. It was more than that: he was giving this much love to dozens of people, maybe more. I could see it in the faces and tones of voice of the friends that came by to see him, in the way he answered the phone, in the state of his address book. He was building these singular, intimate relationships with everyone, one at a time, as they passed back and forth through his life. A lynchpin, he’d passed from playing with the big boys to actually being the ‘daddy’, a father figure, in the midst of his own hectic, often dissolute life. I miss Mark terribly. To turn my head into Commercial Road, or whichever road he might have been at the end of, would always thrill me. I could forget about everything else and just gather my wits about me. I had to. I was going into battle after all - at his side, rather than against him (on balance…) Mark was discrete, brilliant, hilarious, unbridled and above all original. He was hugely charismatic. He had it all to give, when you were lucky enough – for a minute, an hour, even a whole night or day at a time. Not that he’d ever let you get so complacent as to get used to it. Perhaps, in this respect, he has left a defence against the unbearable: the ebbing conviction that, not to worry, this short time was enough and our paths will cross again. That we’ll be throwing our heads back in opposite armchairs some night soon. That I’ll be chiding him for his lifestyle or he me for mine. That we’ll be dissecting this person, that writer, this dish, that place. That I’ll be asking him once more about that time he had, this idea of ours - and waiting for his totally unpredictable reply. His totally unpredictable reply. It’s like one of our chess games, Mark, and it’s your move. I’ll just sit here, won’t I, gazing quietly, infinitely, at those pieces, knowing your mind is going full speed just a few feet away, even if I can’t see it. I’ll just think about how we got here, and where we might go next.
Estelle	Dec 10 2006 7:48 PM i can't get the music loud enough to drown this one out. You should still be here. Get back here so I can argue with you! Love you xx
teddy and pearl	Dec 9 2006 4:45 AM And even in our sleep pain that cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart, and in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom to us by the awful grace of God. Aeschylus
!	Dec 8 2006 10:39 PM Oh mark, mark,mark since saturday everything has been like a big whirlwind last thing you said to me was that you were going to be brilliant in the play then a couple of hours later i am talking to you as you lie in hospital unable to talk back lots of people are wondering if anything they did could have changed the outcome on sunday morning but i reckon all we should spend time trying to do is to find out what happened to you and make sure everyone finds out the truth -- even if we dont like the answer you were so fun, and annoying, and too damn clever, i liked acting with you, and drinking with you, and i loved your hilarious flirting (even if it turns out you did this with everyone!!!) missing you xxxxxxxx

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