Mark! I miss ya.

My buddy

I’m taking my family back to SF for a visit this summer and I know that it just won’t be the same without Mark there. I still think about him often and I would imagine that I always will. We had many misadventures together.
There was the time that we worked as extras in the Doors movie. We were standing in front of some shop on Haight Street and every time that the cameras started rolling, we would light up the pipe and partake in it. SFPD officers stood across the street looking at us but could not bust us because they were dressed in their ’80s uniforms. After each shot, Oliver Stone would walk over to us and just stand there (taking in the herb, I think), then whenever Mark or I would begin to talk, Oliver would take off.

Then there was the time that Mark and I went around the neighborhood with spray paint cans in hand beautifying the neighborhood. We were doing a work on a nearby house when we saw a cop car heading in our direction. We dropped the cans and ran back home and laughed as we got to the front gate of 708 cuz we felt that we had outrun The Man, but as we fumbled for our keys, our giggles of glee turned into shivers of shock as we saw that we were surrounded by a half a dozen police cars. One of the cops grabbed me by my long goatee, threw me against the car, slapped on cuffs behind my back, and pushed me into the backseat with Mark. We tried to convince them that it was art that we were doing not graffiti but it was to no avail.
At the police station in Golden Gate Park, I gave them my driver’s license but Mark said that he had no ID and gave them a false name. They put us together in a holding cell and handcuffed Mark to a bench with both hands behind his back while I was handcuffed to the bench with only one hand. Mark whispered to me that I needed to get his driver’s license out of his pocket and hide it in my sock. “Why?” I asked.
“Davey, I’m on probation. If they find out who I am, I’m up shit creek.” I then remembered that he was on probation for borrowing the Picassos and Paul Klees from the SFMOMA. I grabbed the driver’s license from Mark’s pocket and put it inside of my sock but it didn’t feel right so I kept pushing it down until it was underneath my foot. Immediately thereafter, the police came back and searched us. Mark was stripsearched and I was searched everywhere except for the insides of my socks underneath my feet.
We were put back into the holding cell and stayed there until dawn singing gospel songs in two-part harmony. We were given a court date and released. I was very nervous about going to court because I knew that Mark had no intention of attending and that I would have to commit perjury and tell the judge that I didn’t know Mark’s identity. Fortunately, when I arrived at the court, I found out that the case had been thrown out.
These are just two of the many crazy times that we had together. What I remember most about Mark, though, was how he would always put a positive slant on things and reassure me that things would turn out well. He was a true friend and is deeply missed.
Uncle Davey

to mark from mark

lost in time remembered for ever

 

 

One of the finest people I ever knew…

Hello,
My name is Liz, and I lived with Mark for several months at 708 Haight in the late 80′s. I just found out today through complete circumstance that Mark Dienstag is gone. I’m devastated to hear of his passing. The last time I saw Mark was in the late 90′s, and I always thought I’d see him again someday. Mark was one of the most intelligent, witty, irreverent, inspiring and handsome men I have ever known. My relationship with Mark absolutely transformed my life for the better and I’ll never forget him. I have some EXCELLENT pictures of Mark I will post here as soon as I can find a scanner.

I first saw Mark at Double Rainbow (where I worked) in the upper Haight in 1987. I remember thinking that he was the most handsome man I’d ever seen, and there was no way a guy like that would want to be with me. But we started chatting and really clicked, talking about music and philosophy. He asked me out and I nervously said “yes”. I’ll never forget our first date. He was so generous, romantic and treated me so well – he was a dream. He showed up in the most beautiful black suit, hailed a taxi and took me to see the SF Opera! We stayed up late talking incessantly, smoking cigarettes and listening to old jazz. I still have one of the tapes Mark made for me – full of really rare, exquisite jazz music from the 30′s. We would put it on and dance together.

Mark introduced me to the Velvet Underground too, which was THE catalyst in my life. The first song I ever wrote was in that room at 708 Haight. I’ve gone on to play in a few bands and I’ve written many songs, and Mark is one of the inspirations that motivated me to do it. We totally fell in love with each other, but then he went to India – a trip that had been planned before he met me. I’ll never forget seeing him off at the airport. I was lost and heartbroken for weeks afterwards, but also SO young. I think I was 23 years old… and by the time Mark got back my feelings had changed. I wish I had been more mature and had stuck with him. Mark was one of the best boyfriends I ever had.

I can’t write anymore right now. Just know that my hearts are with all of you and I share in this great loss.

Hugs,
Liz

What I miss about you, Mark….

I\’ll be missing you!!!!

Bro Hymn

1. i miss your stories.

2. i miss your beautiful smile!

3. i miss you!

4. i miss seeing you while i am in SF.

5. i miss drinking coffee, smoking and eating with you!

6. i miss your intellect.

7. i miss your guitar playing.

8. i miss your excellent vinyl collection.

9. i miss your emails!

10. i just absolutely miss you entirely forever!

11. i miss your very fine dressing style.

12. i miss the nights we shared a bed because we didn’t want to be alone.

13. i miss the 2 feet of the New York Times on your floor.

14. i miss how i feel calm around you.

15. i miss your hair.

16. i miss your smile the most!

17. i miss the meter of your walk down the street with me.

18. i miss your rants.

19. i miss making plans with you.

20. i miss your wit.

21. i miss your individuality. i have NEVER met anyone like you EVER!

22. i miss your friendship.

23. i miss you ENTIRELY!

I will always love you forever, Mark Adam Dienstag! You are wonderful.

X Sabine

M.A.D. I MISS YOU DEARLY!!!! LOVE SABINE

Mark,   Been thinking about you a lot lately, and every day since…..I will NEVER FORGET YOUR BEAUTY! I miss you soooo much! It is so difficult to go to SF without seeing you because I always would see you when I came through our enchanted city. I love you FOREVER!           X Sabine

My Memories of Mark in the 80′s – I can’t believe he’s gone.

This is very hard right now. I had no idea until a few moments ago that Mark had died. I was searching the internet for his phone number again because our mutual friend Kevin said he would call him and fill me in on Mark’s latest details. And then I saw this site… I figure I’ll get my feelings out now since writing usually helps me process information but I can’t promise to be eloquent.

I was Mark’s girlfriend in college at San Francisco State University. We met in 1984. He was hanging around my dorm, we met and that was it, we were hooked. We had many mutual friends and we all hung out together and “partied”. After a semester both Mark and I moved out of the dorms and moved into apartments 2 blocks from each other in the Western Addition. He was on Haight and Pierce and I was on Pierce and Oak. We spent most nights together, usually in his place and he had the wonderful ritual of reading every night before going to sleep, as mentioned by all – he was a voracious reader. I had done this as a kid (read before bed) and was happy to readopt it with Mark. I still do it today.

Mark shared a lot of his dreams with me. We shared a lot of laughter. We often went to the park to swing on the swings with our friends. We traipsed around town and had philosophical conversations. Things were good and we were together until 1986. We used to listed to so much different music together, such a eclectic variety. And whenever we listened to one of our favorite bands, the Velvet Underground and the song Pale Blue Eyes would come on he would look at me with those amazing deep eyes of his and say “you’ll never be able to hear this song and not think of me” and even now, over 20 years later, he was right. I remember so many things about him and still, not enough. I remember when he got his job at Clean Well Lighted Place for Books – which was a dream come true for him then.

One thing I remember so clearly is a conversation we had one night. We were both afraid of death but Mark seemed even more so on this particular night. We talked about death a lot but now I’m not sure why that was exactly. On this night we promised each other that whoever died first, we would “meet” the other person (on the other side) when they died. I remember we were both crying and he asked me, “Even if we break up? You’ll still meet me when I die?” and I promised him with all of my heart and I meant it. I never, in a million years, thought that he would die before me. And all the years that went by without talking to him, I never forgot that conversation, nor my promise to him and it absolutely breaks my heart that now I won’t be able to keep it.

I was the one that was there when he and Aaron stole the paintings from MOMA. I was the one who convinced them to return them (in the Stonestown parking lot). That was a crazy night and a crazy few days following. Mark was so funny when he took those paintings. He wasn’t even thinking and he didn’t “break” the door open, it wasn’t really  shut properly he told me. He always wore that big overcoat and so he hid some of the paintings in it and ran across the street to Aaron’s house. And then he went back for the others. Then Aaron came to get me at the wedding party we had crashed. I was so shocked when I saw the paintings at Aaron’s house but in retrospect, Mark was living in the moment when he took them and that was one of the things I always loved about him. His ability to live in the now, his propensity to break rules, his true love of life.

I regret that, when I started missing him and wanted to contact him in 2006 I did not. I went so far as to find his phone number and address on the internet and not call him. I can only say now, that I’m honored that he was part of my life, even if it was only for a brief moment in time. He will remain in my heart forever. He deeply touched all that were fortunate enough to know him. What an amazing, beautiful, charismatic, perceptive, insightful soul.

Kimberly Anne Hoffman

I miss you Marky!!!

Goodbye dear friend and thanks

I have been trying to start this for weeks. I want to find a way that all this makes sense or means something but I cant.  Reading the other posts it occurs to me that we each had our own version of Mark, all of them true and compelling.

I met Mark in 1988 in the Lower Haight in the infamous 714,710,708 flats.  He was just back from India and moping over Liz, the girl who did not wait for him after all.  He was very beautiful, with long blond curls, a great smile and a tender way about him.  He was thinking about Buddhism and questions of spirituality, drawing many mandalas. We embarked on a long and torturous relationship – over 4 years of “relationship wrestling.”  Mark was an infuriating boyfriend – he slept all day, had to choose the appropriate albums to play while putting on each individual article of clothing, was very messy (that room!), always late, and very attractive to the young Nubiles from Arcada and various other places. He would hold court on that ratty curved couch in the bay window, a cigarette and his guitar, wearing a plaid bathrobe.  708 was full of adoring transients and Irish people.   Mark had great love for the fighting/crying Irish poets in the neighborhood.

When I moved back to NY, we became pen pals and I still have lots of Mark’s mail art from his Dada phase. He had the greatest handwriting – perfectly formed and even.  He was so naturally creative in so many ways – music, writing, talking, socializing, criticizing.  I loved going to galleries with him – he was so easy to talk art and culture with.  Our phone conversations lasted for hours and always included detailed lists of what he was reading and what he recommended – he had finally finished that damnable Pynchon.  Every single time he called, he would pretend to be from the county sheriff’s office or my college alumni association.  I never fell for it but that never stopped him.  I would just wait for that familiar “woo hoo.”  He really enjoyed playing with my kids and got along well with my husband who shared his attitude that the “party is where I am.”

For all this, Mark also had a desperate quality about him.  This usually related to drugs and drinking but also to experience and pleasure in general.  He wanted to push it all the time.  He was rarely relaxing to be with – always challenging one to think harder or differently, to explain, to defend.  He really did live a life fuller than most.  Here is an excerpt from an epic email Mark wrote just two weeks before his death:

“Me, I seem to be exiting some sort of season myself, breaking out of a self-imposed exile to trouble with other humans again. My efforts at maintaining an approachable exterior and facile charm only serve to remind me why I withdrew in the first place. I find that my years of polishing a versatility, an ability to travel and have commerce with the maximum number of social strata and situations has left me a particular handicap- I’m too smartass and cutting for the idiots, and too (negatively) experienced and unshockable for the hoi polloi. I know: 9/10s of the world would be happy to have my problems, if that’s in fact what they are. It occurs to me that none of this is very funny, and somewhere along the line I promised myself that I would never write more than three paragraphs without at least attempting lamely a lunge at humor; gravity can be deadly.
Here’s more unfunny business- I’ve made up my mind to write, early often and at length. I’ll still lay abed and strum guitar mooning aloud about my suffering, and I enjoy drawing and pushing colors around a page, but if I have to pick a muse to court with seriousness in mind then let it be Calliope.”

Back on that couch at 708, we used to each other stories.  Mark always ended his, in a strange German/Jewish accent, “you may wish that there was more, but there isn’t, that’s it, there is no more.”
Goodbye dear friend, and thank you.
Alison Fennell Vaccarino