manko

okay so I've been absent, still there's no need for bloody obituaries, awright? Today London's superstar elite lost Alexander McQueen, but your Manko is still alive and kickin. If you don't believe me for some weird twisted reason (you sick bastard!), get an eyeful of my recent attempts at creative boobage on Ishotmyself and most recently Zivity.

Because of boredom and for the kinky kicks I went and got myself an office job for the first time in my life. I feel like such a dirty slapper adhering to the corporate dresscode - matching starched shirts with towering heels and pinstripe pencil skirts. But also... who coulda thunk a photo retoucher's job would be so entertaining. Oh the desperate craving of faux beauty of your average woman like any of those random females on the tube! I smirk all the way home in the rush hour, after a day of doodling a wacom pen around flabs, wrinkles, zits and ingrown hairs of random strangers who want to be slimmer, younger, healthier, happier, fitter... Feeling like a gynaecologist or a priest, keeping dirty little secrets in utmost confidence in a strangers' expensive and fruitless fantasy of "what if i were to see myself on the cover of a magazine"... Not Vogue, not even OK!, though perhaps on Crochet! or Fisherwoman's Delight. Wah wah wah.

Anyway, I still prefer REAL fabulous clobber to that kinky secretary uniform. My new jacket commission from Drag Fiend Crew is the best piece of clothing I have ever owned - fine art at its finest.


My dead mother's jacket from the 70ies, covered in broken jewelry, rusty safetypins, blood, spells, bicycle chains and lace. Pure mojo. How I love getting in quick with a young talent before they charge designer prices! And he is a pretty tasty looking boy as well, purrrr.

Random cute fact - Pseekal came and defaced all my SG books and magazines:

And Espira made this Honey Manko Regina painting:

After this report of no particular interest or importance I gotta love ya and leave ya - my mind is preoccupied with more essential subjects, such as what I should be drinking. Or what to wear with my jacket to get papped at that fancy party I have to show my face in a couple of hours. Too bloody freezing in London for rubber stockings and sheer white slip a la Cicciolina, which was my first idea. This rum oughta help warm up, let's see.... Cheers to you Alexander, RIP whilst herds of mediocre tossbags live on.

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