I first met Mark Martyre in an airport in New Jersey in the summer of 1979. He was playing his acoustic guitar for the passers by, trying to make ends-meat, I assumed. I was on my way to Dallas, but as I was early I decided to stick around and listen awhile. Soothing tones flowed from the instrument, calming my tangled nerves, while his homespun lyrics whisked me away to a euphoria I had previously only envisioned in the sweetest of dreams. The experience was so moving that I completely lost track of time and missed my flight; but I didnt care. I had to meet the man behind the sound. I walked toward him, told him my name and shook his hand. But upon shaking his hand, I was completely overcome with an incalculable sense of awe. I lost all feeling in my arm, became light-headed and passed out. I awoke several hours later in a maintenance closet, dazed, bloodied and completely void of all valuables. But Mark also stole something else that day, something he had not bargained for: my heart.
This encounter changed my life forever. I quit my job, sold all my possessions and put all my money towards my new calling: Martyrism. I am the first follower of Martyre, a Martyrite if you will (copyright). I follow Mark, study his teachings and eat what he throws away, all in a constant struggle to find my salvation. I have dedicated my life to documenting the man, the myth, the legend: Mark Martyre. On this page, I will share all my knowledge with you, teaching you of his ways, in hopes that one day you may honor him as I have and break a commandment, as well as several municipal laws by constructing a giant, gold statue in his likeness on your property.
Want to send me an angry letter; or sign me up for random bondage-themed internet magazines out of spite? Now you can! Readers sans MySpace can e-mail me at [email protected]
I edited my profile at Freeweblayouts.net , check out these Myspace Layouts!
