Oh, gee, I just don't know, dear. There has been too much fabulous and fucked up action to even begin to catalogue it in a new blog, plus a feeling of What'sTheBleedinPoint for any of this anymore. Went through a million hair changes, stalkers, photoshoots for money, bleaching eyebrows, animals, victories that strangely mean fuckall, legs in stirrups and surgical instruments. Making things and breaking things, the usual.
I can hardly bring myself to do anymore typing, twittering, fucking with words; clearly the wrong season for fingers on keyboard. With new season upon us, hysterically sunny, blooming, bleeding, drunken, purple and orange, it's high time for chaos and dressy acid parties in the sunlight cemeteries, and not for fingers on keyboards, no no.



Manko is alive and well. See you around... maybe.